Chapter 4 Sierra
SIERRA
The storm had been relentless all day, burying the cabin in a thick, white silence.
Snow drifts against the windows, soft and endless, muting the world until it feels like we are the only two people left alive.
Outside, the only sign of life was a trail of Hunter’s large boot prints from when he’d gone out to grab more firewood.
Inside, I sit cross-legged on a blanket in front of the fireplace, surrounding myself with a sea of tiny paper snowflakes I’d been folding to pass the time. No internet. No television. No distractions.
What did he do up here all day?
Across the room, Hunter sits in a rocking chair, a book open in his massive hands. I almost make a crack about him looking like a retired grandpa, but think better of it. I’ve learned a few things about Hunter in the last forty-eight hours.
He doesn’t like small talk.
He doesn’t like being watched.
He doesn’t like being questioned—and he definitely doesn’t like being teased.
But really, what else was there to do here besides talk?
“Whatcha reading?” I ask.
He doesn’t look up.
“Is it a mystery?” I try again.
“It’d be a mystery if you’d be quiet.”
I arch a brow. “Are you calling me loud?”
“I’m calling you annoying. Your boredom isn’t my problem. Find something to do. Quietly.”
He means it as an insult, but I can’t help the small grin that’s tugging at my lips. I pick up another paper snowflake and fold it slowly. “You could just admit you like the company.”
He doesn’t even pause. “I like the quiet.”
“So you’ve said.”
The fire crackles softly, its glow painting his face in a warm gold color.
His beard is thick and dark, matching the tousled hair that could use a haircut.
Those blue eyes are the only bright thing on him and they keep flicking toward me in quick glances.
Like he wants to make sure I hadn’t vanished. Or, maybe he’s hoping I will.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I stand and cross the room, settling into the armchair across from him, tucking my legs beneath me.
“Know what this place needs?” I ask.
“No,” he says dryly, “but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
I smile. “A Christmas tree. You should go chop one down, and then we can decorate it.”
He looks at me like I’d just suggested he dive into a frozen lake. “I don’t think so, Snow Princess. I don’t celebrate holidays, and I sure as hell don’t decorate.”
I hide a grin, thinking, Good thing I brought my own. I’d planned to spend Christmas alone this year, so I came prepared, with ornaments and twinkle lights. But that could be tomorrow’s surprise.
“You know,” I say softly, “most people talk about themselves a little after they’ve trapped someone in a cabin for days.”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t shut me down either. That was progress.
“Why did you really come up here, Hunter?”
His jaw flexes. “Told you. I like quiet.”
“People don’t hide in the mountains because they like quiet.”
The silence stretches, heavy and brittle. Finally, he says, “Because the last time I let people get close, they died.” He looks toward the spot where I’d been sitting before. “You should go back over there.”
The words hang in the air like fog. My chest aches. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and lay my hand over his. He goes still but doesn’t pull away.
“I don’t scare easily,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe you should.”
“And maybe you should stop pretending you want me to be scared of you.”
Our eyes meet, and the space between us seems to shrink. Heat blooms, slow and steady. His thumb brushes against mine, barely, but enough to send a tremor through me.
Neither of us move.
Outside, the storm howls.
Inside, something else is building.
For the first time, I feel it, the faint crack in his armor. I’m getting through to him.
And I don’t even know why I want to so badly. Only that the more he gives, the more I want.