Chapter 5
Holly
Hunter’s dogs are just as sweet as he is. I love all of them, but there’s a special place in my heart for Donatello. I didn’t even know dogs could use wheelchairs. It makes me happy to see him rolling along. He’s already making fast friends with Frosty. The two of them are going to be best buddies.
I watch them play together as the heat of the fire warms my face. It crackles merrily as if the cabin is glad I’m here.
“I’ve always wanted a house full of dogs,” I tell Hunter, petting Michelango’s tummy. The sweet little beagle is a cuddle monster.
He stares into the fireplace. We’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the plush rug as the flames bathe us both in the golden light. “Me, too. That’s why I got into fostering. I take them in for a while, give them a good home then…”
“Let them go?” I ask softly.
He flinches. “Turns out, I’m not so good at that part. Not easy to let go when no one has ever wanted you.”
“Hunter…” I call his name softly. I don’t know what to say. We’re the opposite. No one has ever wanted him, and everyone has always wanted me. Yet neither of us have ever felt loved.
He shakes his head and stands. “I’m going to need more firewood if I hope to keep this place warm tonight.”
I want to yell at everyone who’s ever left him behind. I want to scream and curse every person who forgot to tell him just how amazing he is.
“You should take the bed. I’m going to sleep on the couch.”
I wish I could help him. Wish I could soothe the ache in his heart and erase the haunted look in his eyes. But I know I can’t, and being this vulnerable with a stranger must have cost him, so I accept his conversation change. “I can’t take your bed.”
“I’m a restless sleeper and often get up in the middle of the night.” He reaches for his coat, hanging on the hook by the door. “You’ll sleep better there.”
I’m about to protest again when a yawn sneaks up on me, and he smirks at me. “You’ve had a long day. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I finally push to my feet. “Thanks, Hunter. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, I promise.”
He murmurs something about not being thrilled then disappears outside. I probably heard him wrong. He’s probably happy at the idea of being rid of me. Meanwhile, the thought of leaving him is making me feel like I need a tub of ice cream and a good cry.
Maybe it’s not about Hunter at all. Maybe it’s about feeling free from my responsibilities. As soon as I think about it, I know that’s not true. It’s not about being free from my responsibilities. It’s about him, the way he makes me feel things I’ve only pretended to feel on screen.
Inside Hunter’s bedroom, I try to call my sister with my dying phone. I really need to hear her voice right now. But my call won’t connect, and a text message to her fails to send as well. With a sigh of defeat, I finally acknowledge that I won’t be able to contact her until tomorrow.
I crawl into the flannel sheets on his bed. I can’t help smiling when I see cartoon dogs printed on them. They seem like just the sort of thing that Hunter would like.
The bed smells like him, and it’s only a matter of minutes before I’m drifting to sleep completely surrounded by his scent of pine and masculinity.
The next morning, I wake feeling completely refreshed, but I’m not happy at the thought of leaving the cabin. I linger in bed for a few minutes before I finally decide that I’m being a terrible guest. My host will probably be glad to get rid of me.
After all, Hunter didn’t ask for me to come traipsing into his life. When I get out of bed, my toes scrunch against the cold hardwood floors. I stretch my arms above my head to work out my aching muscles. Yesterday’s impromptu hike took more out of me than I realized.
When I spot my elf costume folded neatly at the foot of the bed, I pause. I pick it up and sniff it, noting immediately that it’s been washed and dried. It has the same laundry detergent smell as his clothes.
Maybe I can figure out what brand it is and buy some. I blush when I reach into the pile and see my panties. That means he saw my panties. Not only did he see them, he was touching them. My mind can’t help but come up with ideas of other situations where he could see my panties.
“Stop it,” I mutter. “You’re probably never going to see him again after today.”
I don’t know why that thought makes me so sad. I dress quickly and grab my cell phone. Still no messages or missed calls. If the tower is still down, my sister and mom will be worried. That makes it even more important that I get back to my regular life.
I pad out of the bedroom and into the living room as quietly as I can. I don’t want to disturb Hunter if he’s still sleeping. But he’s not asleep. He’s on the couch, working on his laptop.
There are even more notes on the coffee table today than there were yesterday. The dogs are asleep all around him. Donatello is on his thigh. Raphael and Leonardo are at his feet. Michelangelo is resting on a soft pillow in front of the fireplace where the fire continues to crackle.
The whole scene is perfect but what I love most is how absorbed Hunter is in his work. He’s staring at the laptop, typing and muttering words under his breath. It’s obvious that he’s completely lost in the story.
I clear my throat and wait for him to look up. Then I force out the words that I don’t want to say, “I heard you moving around the cabin and thought maybe we could get an early start.”
His expression softens. “You haven’t looked outside yet, have you?”
I shake my head. I’m not one of those people that gets up in the mornings and throws back the curtains. That’s for princesses and morning people, which are close enough to princesses in my book.
He sets aside his laptop and stands, stretching his arms over his head. His flannel raises and teases me with a glimpse of taut stomach and a peek at the happy trail. It’s enough to make my stomach flutter.
He crosses the room to the wall of windows and tugs back the heavy curtains to reveal the snow. It’s easily already waist high. Unless he has a snow plow up here, I doubt we’re getting down. Still, I try to play it cool and not act like I’m excited. “Do you think your truck can handle it?”
He grimaces. “It’s an old truck, and those aren’t exactly good tires. Looks like you’re stuck with me until the snow melts.”
I’m getting a snow day. A real actual snow day, not like the kind I pretend to have on TV and not like the kind where I sneak away for a few hours. This day is actually mine, and I have no idea how to spend it. I blink. “What am I going to do?”
He shrugs. “Stay here and eat pizza.”
My phone beeps, reminding me the battery is low and needs charging. I immediately feel a rush of guilt for being excited about my day off. Sure, it’s nice to be unreachable. “My sister is going to be worried and so is my mom and my boy–”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you said he was your ex.”
“It’s complicated.” The weight of it sits heavy on my shoulders, and I feel myself sag underneath it. One day, I want to be free from all of this. But I’m not sure how to make that happen.
“Well, you had to have broken up for good reason.” He doesn’t say the question, but it’s clearly there at the end of the sentence. He’s fishing for details.
I think about Bobby and why we aren’t together anymore. “There was no chemistry. Not like with—”
He gives me a knowing grin. “Who?”
I cross my arms and move to the window. No wonder he kept those drapes closed. I can feel the harsh winter breeze rattling the panes.
This makes no sense. I broke up with my boyfriend two weeks ago. I can’t have feelings for someone new this quickly. There’s supposed to be a mourning period, and I should be sad.
“If you’re looking for something to do today, the boys and I are going to set up for Christmas. Reckon you could help us if you wanted to.”
I think of my apartment, my sterile apartment with no personal touches. I never bother to decorate. I’m so rarely there, and when I am, I’m just sleeping and grabbing food before another round of filming. Out loud, I ask him, “You decorate for Christmas even though you live by yourself?”
“Yeah, the holidays are important to me.”
“But why?” I blurt out, trying to puzzle through this. If it’s just me, it doesn’t seem worth the effort. Besides, it’s not like I can’t go to work and be surrounded by Christmas. Christmas is every day of the year when you film holiday movies.
His voice is soft when he answers, like he’s afraid to say it too loudly. “Because one day I’m going to have a wife and babies to share it with.”
Michelangelo barks.
He grins. “Well, more babies. The kind with two legs in addition to my best guys over here. So, do you want to help?”
My gaze goes to his lips. “With making babies?”
He smirks. “With Christmas decorating though, we could make some babies. I think they’d be cute with your features.”
My face heats as if I’m standing in the fire. It’s just my luck to get stranded with a flirty mountain man who loves Christmas. Surely, someone up there in the universe is laughing at me.