Chapter 3 Piper
PIPER
The couch is trying to kill me.
I shift for the hundredth time, trying to find a position that doesn't make my spine scream in protest. The throw pillow under my head is about as comfortable as a brick, and the blanket keeps sliding off every time I move.
It's midnight. I've been lying here for an hour. And I haven't slept for a single second.
The cabin is quiet except for the wind howling outside and the occasional creak of the walls settling. I can't hear anything from the bedroom. No snoring, no movement, nothing. Is Callum even in there? Is he sleeping soundly while I'm out here suffering?
Why do I care?
I punch the pillow, trying to fluff it into something resembling soft. It doesn't work.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm just stuck in a cabin during a blizzard with my best friend's estranged brother who keeps looking at me like I'm something he wants to eat. Who dropped his towel in front of me and called me beautiful.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force my brain to stop replaying the way his gaze felt.
I throw off the blanket and sit up, my back protesting immediately. There's no way I'm sleeping on this medieval torture device.
I head toward the bathroom, already imagining myself sinking into that clawfoot tub.
A hot bath. That’s what I need. Something to melt the tension in my shoulders and clear my head. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with Callum.
I tiptoe across the cabin. The bedroom door is closed, no light visible underneath. He must be asleep. Good. Perfect. I can take a bath in peace without him making some comment about how I look all wet and…
Stop. Thinking. About. Him.
The bathroom is small but beautiful, all vintage tile and that gorgeous clawfoot tub. I try the lock, but it doesn’t catch. Figures. I let it go with a sigh and turn on the water, letting it run hot enough to steam. The sound is loud in the quiet cabin, but hopefully not loud enough to wake him.
I strip down quickly and sink into the water with a sigh. The heat soaks into my aching muscles, and I let my head fall back against the rim, eyes closing.
This. This is what I needed.
The steam curls around me, and for the first time since I arrived, I feel myself truly relax. The tension in my shoulders starts to ease. My breathing slows. I let myself float in the heat and the quiet, trying not to think about anything at all.
Especially not about the man sleeping in the other room.
The door flies open.
I scream, jerking upright and sinking deeper into the water at the same time, arms crossing over my chest even though the bubbles are… oh God, there are not enough bubbles.
Callum stands in the doorway, shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants that should be illegal. Looking completely unbothered by the fact that I'm naked in the bathtub.
“What the HELL are you doing?!” My voice comes out about three octaves higher than normal.
“Brushing my teeth.” He walks to the sink like this is completely normal. “What does it look like?”
He actually reaches for his toothbrush.
“Get out!”
“It's my bathroom.” He squeezes toothpaste onto the brush with infuriating calm.
“I'm in the bath!”
“I can see that.” He glances at me in the mirror, and that smirk, that goddamn smirk, curves his mouth. “Nice bubbles.”
“Callum, I swear to God.”
“Relax, darlin'. It's nothing I haven't seen before.” He starts brushing his teeth while I'm sitting here naked and mortified.
“You haven't seen ME before!”
He rinses and spits, still holding my gaze in the mirror. “True. But I've got a pretty good imagination.”
Heat floods my face. “You are unbelievable.”
“So I've been told.”
I grab the washcloth and throw it at him. It hits him square in the back with a wet smack.
“Get. Out.”
“Or what?” He leans against the counter, arms crossing over his bare chest. “You gonna chase me out? You're a little... exposed for that.”
My entire body is on fire now. “You're an asshole.”
“Also… so I've been told.” He settles in like he's planning to stay. “How's the water?”
“It was perfect until you ruined it!”
“I'm just standing here.”
“You're staring!”
“Hard not to.” His gaze drags over what he can see above the water.
That's it. I've had enough.
I reach for the towel without standing, trying to stay low in the water, keeping everything important submerged. My fingers brush the edge of the fabric on the nearby rack. I manage to grab the towel, but when I pull, it slips… and dunks straight into the tub with a wet plop.
Shit.
I hiss through my teeth, dragging the dripping towel into my lap, trying to cover myself while also maneuvering out of the tub in one smooth motion. It is not smooth.
Water sloshes everywhere. The towel clings to me, soaked and useless. I try to stand, keeping my arms clutched around the sopping fabric, doing my best not to flash Callum, who is absolutely still standing there, watching every second of this disaster unfold.
The playful smirk he usually wears is gone. His gaze is fixed.
And hungry.
I wrap the towel tighter, though it’s clinging more than covering, and step onto the wet tile, keeping my chin high like I haven’t just lost every ounce of dignity I ever had.
I don’t look at him as I pass. But my robe is on the hook behind him.
Of course it is.
“Move,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
He doesn't. Just watches me with those hungry eyes.
“I said move, Callum.”
“You're the one who decided to put on a show.”
“It wasn't a show, you asshole! You barged in!”
“And you could've stayed in the water.”
We're close now. Too close. Me in just a towel, water still dripping from my hair down my shoulders. Him still shirtless, all hard muscle and inked skin.
“Move,” I say again.
He does. Finally. Steps aside just enough for me to reach around him for the robe.
I grab it, trying to ignore how his eyes track every movement, and the way my hands shake as I wrap it around myself over the towel.
“You should learn to knock,” I say, tying the robe's belt with fingers that won't quite cooperate. “The lock doesn’t work.”
The lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then die completely. Darkness swallows the room.
“Shit,” Callum groans.
“What just happened?”
“Storm must’ve knocked out the main power. I’ll go fire up the generator.” He glances at me with that maddening smirk. “You stay warm, darlin’. Let me handle things. I’ll take care of everything… and maybe then, you can return the favor.”
“Excuse me?” I snap. “I’m not some damsel in distress who needs you to handle things. And I’m definitely not about to owe you any favors.”
The second I’m dressed and we step outside, I regret everything.
Snow drives sideways into my face, stinging my cheeks. I can barely see three feet in front of me. We trudge into the storm. The snow is deeper than I expected, past my knees. My legs are already burning and we've only gone twenty feet.
Callum glances back at me. I glare at him through the snow and keep moving.
The shed is around the side of the cabin, barely visible through the whiteout. Callum has to dig out the bottom of the door with his hands.
Finally, he gets the door open.
The shed is small and cramped, barely big enough for both of us.
“Hold this.” He hands me his flashlight. “Keep it steady on the generator.”
I do, watching as he crouches down and starts working. His hands move with confidence, checking connections, adjusting something I can't see.
Then the generator roars to life.
“Come on.” Callum pushes to his feet. “Let's get back inside.”
We step back into the storm, and it's somehow worse than before. Snow swirls so thick I can’t even see the cabin.
Callum grabs my hand and pulls me forward.
I don’t pull away.
I want to. Every instinct tells me I should. But the wind is so strong I feel like I’ll topple over if I lose that anchor.
We're halfway back when my foot catches on something buried under the snow.
Callum catches me, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against his chest. We stumble, both off-balance, and my hands fist in his coat trying to steady myself.
We freeze like that. Pressed together, breathing hard, faces inches apart.
“You okay?” he asks, his breath ghosting over my lips.
“I'm fine.”
But neither of us moves. His eyes drop to my mouth.
“Whatever you're thinking. Don't,” I say.
“What am I thinking?” He leans in slightly, his nose almost brushing mine.
Then he kisses me.
It’s rough. Urgent. His mouth pressing hard into mine, one hand tangled in the collar of my coat, the other grabbing the hair at the base of my skull.
I shove at his chest, every part of me screaming that this is a mistake. That I shouldn’t want this.
But he doesn’t let go. His mouth moves over mine, deeper now, rougher, like he’s daring me to keep fighting.
And for a moment, I do.
But then, something shifts.
The fight in me falters. My fingers curl into his coat instead of pushing him away, and despite everything I know, everything I should feel, I melt into the kiss. Heat explodes through me despite the storm and every single reason this is a terrible idea.
He groans against my mouth, trailing his hand down to grip my ass and pull me tighter against him.
I shove him away, hard enough that he stumbles back a step.
“What the hell was that?!” I'm yelling, have to yell over the wind, but also because I'm furious. At him. At myself. At how good it felt.
“You kissed me back.”
“No, you kissed me first!”
“And you didn't stop me.” He takes a step forward.
Before I can react, his hands are on my face, and then his mouth is on mine again. It’s demanding, possessive, completely out of line.
And still, my lips part.
Still, I kiss him back.
I gasp, coming to my senses, shoving at his chest hard enough to break us apart. My palm connects with his cheek in a satisfying smack.
He freezes, head turned from the impact. For a second, I think it’s over. That he’ll back off.
But he turns back slowly, his gaze darkening as he comes at me again. His next kiss is wild and reckless and I don’t even know what I’m doing. Everything feels upside down. The snow, the wind, the heat of his mouth, the fact that we’re even out here like this.
I break the kiss, shoving him back again.
“This—” I point between us, my chest heaving. “This can’t happen.”
I spin on my heel and storm back into the cabin, slamming the door behind me and leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
What the hell was that?
I hear his boots on the porch, heavy footsteps getting closer.
Any second he'll walk through this door and we'll have to face what just happened. We'll have to talk about it or ignore it or figure out what the hell happens now.
I touch my mouth, feeling the ghost of his kiss. Tasting him still.
This is bad. This is so bad.
The door handle turns and he steps inside.
Our eyes meet.
And I know—we both know—that everything just changed.
There's no going back from this.