Chapter 8
Holly
While the Kringle Comet has nothing whatsoever to do with its own timing skirting across our vision this winter, its timing absolutely sucks.
Winter?
Northern latitudes?
And now being snowed in with the hottest ranch hand I’ve ever met?
Okay, okay, the only ranch hand I’ve ever met.
But I have been around buff lobstermen, lumberjacks, mountain men of different varieties.
As well as middle-aged professors and colleagues with salt and pepper hair.
Yes, I’ve seen a lot of hot men in my day.
But there is something about Jack. About his intensity. His bright blue eyes that laser into me. His soft lips and slightly scruffy chin that make heat pool between my thighs, and then spread to the rest of me.
Because of my beloved Kringle Comet, I’m now stuck—snowed in—with not only him, but his two rowdy and adorable boys. This sounds like the best holiday romcom. Ever. Too bad I’d rather watch it on television than live it.
Laptop open on my bed, because I need some cold, hard science facts to cool me down after that kiss, when glory of glories…what else could go wrong?
Oh, that’s right. The power goes out. Squinting at the bright screen of my laptop as it loads, I calculate out how many hours my battery will last. Damn. I shut the laptop; I can’t afford to waste the battery tonight, not knowing when I’ll be able to charge it next.
That’s when a foggy thought about the generator smacks me in the forehead. Which means going back into that closet. With a groan, I get up and grope my way toward the closet, only to remember I set up candles in the kitchen.
There’s a knock on my door as I approach. “Dr. Holly? I have a flashlight for you.” Silently, I curse my heart as it skips at the sound of Jack’s voice.
“Great, I was just coming to get one so I could turn on the generator,” I say as the door opens and the beam of his flashlight blinds me.
What follows is a small comedy of errors as I walk toward him to get the flashlight and he walks at me. Now, clearly he can see as he has the flashlight. Nevertheless, we still bump into each other. He tries to catch me. The flashlight ends up on the floor.
And I end up wrapped in his arms, pulled tight into his chest. His very hard plank of a chest. Gulp.
His pine and sandalwood scent is tempered with chocolate now. “I know what you’re doing,” I say, trying to be playful.
Jack’s response is confusing, not gonna lie. He squeezes me tighter, groans a bit, then releases me abruptly. He mumbles something, pretty sure about the generator, then walks away from me, leaving the flashlight on the floor.
Picking it up, I follow him, reaching him as he flips the switch. I suppose a ranch hand has to be familiar with all the inner workings of the boss’s cabin, right?
The lights flicker on for about thirty seconds, then go out. Plunging us into almost darkness—the flashlight is still on. In the other room, the boys shout for joy when the darkness returns. I snort with laughter at their ridiculousness.
“I’ll sort it out in the morning. There’s enough wood to keep us warm tonight.”
Once the four of us have ensured everyone has enough blankets, the food and cookies are put away, and there are extra logs on the fire, we awkwardly say our goodnights and the three of them stomp up the loft stairs to their beds.
I should be exhausted. All the packing, driving, excitement. The cold and the snow. The unexpected cabin guests. I should be ready to sleep and rest my brain so that I can be fresh and ready for the comet tomorrow. Comet-palooza!
Instead, I’m in this big, comfy bed all alone, and all my brain can do is throw images of Jack at me. Jack holding me in the snow. Him kissing me, tangling his hands in my hair. Jack here in this bed, on top of me, pinning me down. Driving into me hard.
Ugh. I can get myself off to this almost stranger in the house, or I can get up and read by the light of the fire; try to take my mind off my lustful thoughts and back on more important things. Mainly: sleep and the comet.
Flashlight, slippers, paperback, I tiptoe out to the main room.
It still smells faintly of cookies, mixed with the woody scents of the cabin and the fire.
There’s something twinkly in the garland on the windows, reflecting the firelight.
It feels a little magical, makes me smile.
I love science, but a girl has to crave a little bit of magic in her life, even if it sounds childish.
Rounding the sofa, I jump back, and squeal, dropping my book to slap a hand over my mouth. “You fucking scared me,” I whisper angrily at Jack, who is sitting on the floor in front of the sofa staring at the fire. He’s put a sofa cushion on the floor to sit on.
When he looks up at me, it isn’t with annoyance at my complaint, but rather with amusement.
There’s a twinkle in his eye that’s more than just the reflection of the fire.
My body heats with the idea that he knows what I was thinking; what I’m currently thinking, and I’m grateful that he can’t see my cheeks reddening.
Without a word, he picks up my paperback and hands it to me. “Werewolf romance? I didn’t know a scientist like you would read something like that.” There’s no judgment in his voice, just curiosity. All the same, I take offense.
“I am more than my work. More than the science that I love. I’m allowed to enjoy fantastical beings, magic, and romance.
” The last word dies on my tongue. I wish I could take it back.
He just nods, in that cowboy way, only missing a Stetson hat on his head.
I notice he isn’t wearing his tight jeans, but rather—gulp—gray sweatpants.
Every woman’s romance book hero has gray sweatpants.
I doubt he knows that, but all the same it feels like a peculiar torture just for me.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No. You?” The words squeak out as he’s interrupted my mini-daydream of sliding those tented sweats off his rock-hard body.
Clearing my throat, I make my move and sit at the edge of the sofa and curl my legs up under me.
Close enough to whisper-talk, far enough away to not touch. Not to feel his warmth.
When he doesn’t say anything, I open my book to my dog-eared page and start to read the same paragraph over and over. This is one of my favorite authors, but my brain can’t read beyond the wolf scenting his fated mate.
Jack starts talking quietly, and relief fills me.
I close my book on my lap and listen, loving the way his deep, gravelly voice permeates the air.
“Being here with the boys dredges up a lot of memories. Of their mom. Of love and being happy. And while it’s highly inconvenient to be stuck here in the snow, I’m grateful to be here with you. ”
I take it back. I am not filled with relief. I am filled with white-hot desire for this man.