Snowed in with the Mountain Man (Log Cabin Christmas)

Chapter 2

2

CAITLYN

I couldn’t decide if I was the unluckiest person in the world or the luckiest.

I always tried to be an optimist. It was almost a disease. But even I would be hard-pressed to find something good to say about sliding off the road in a snowstorm and slamming my brand-new SUV into a tree.

It wouldn’t start. I’d tried. Stubbornly so. I was determined to get back on the road and arrive at my grandmother’s house in time to watch the end of the parade with my sister, just as we’d done as kids. Then we’d make Thanksgiving dinner together while sipping wine and listening to Christmas music.

Tomorrow morning, we’d get up bright and early and head to the closest indoor mall for a full day of shopping. Maybe we’d even catch a movie before stopping by the town Christmas tree lot to pick out a tree for Grammy. I’d looked forward to our day out for weeks.

“Nobody’s coming out in this mess,” my super-hot rescuer, whose name was Jake, said as he came back into the cabin from the front porch.

He’d gone out there in the freezing cold to make some phone calls, probably thinking I couldn’t hear him. I’d stayed inside to text my sister, hoping it would go through. Luckily, it did. She’d already arrived at our grammy’s house, having come in yesterday. I’d waited until super early this morning to leave…which was why I was driving in this mess.

“Maybe I should go try it again,” I said, standing and slipping my phone into my coat pocket. “It’s had a little while to rest. Sometimes batteries get…overloaded, right?”

He stood in his doorway, removing his coat. As he looked over at me, his intense expression made my knees feel a little wobbly. God, he was gorgeous. The most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen. I’d been so stunned when I saw him on the other side of my window, I hadn’t been able to speak or move at first.

And then I’d slammed my door into him—something that would have incapacitated a weaker man. This guy was not a weak man.

“I think you have bigger problems than your battery,” he said. “Your hood’s pretty smashed up. I would have been surprised if it started. And even if you could get it started, it’s not safe for you to be on these roads.”

“I did fine until I got here,” I said, watching as he picked up the coffee mug on the table next to the door. “I’m really good at driving in snow. I live in Kentucky.”

I grew up in East Tennessee, though. I’d only lived in Kentucky the past five years. I’d gone to college there, and after graduation, my roommate and I had stuck around. I’d landed an accounting job that let me work from home most of the time, but I had to go into the office every week or two.

“This isn’t driving in the snow,” he said. “This is driving up a mountain in the snow.”

Yeah, he had a point there. I’d been slipping and sliding almost since the second the road started its incline. The fact that I’d managed to stay on the road as long as I had was amazing in itself.

“I’m spending Thanksgiving with my grandmother,” I said. “We never get snow this early in the year.”

“Yeah, I was going to leave for my sister’s house after coffee, but the weather had other ideas.”

My head snapped back to him. “Was this in the forecast? I didn’t even look.”

I fell back down onto the couch with a sigh. It was my fault. I should have pulled up the weather app on my phone and checked out the forecast for my destination. There was no snow in the forecast for Kentucky, so I wouldn’t have imagined it would be a problem in the area where I’d grown up—an area that maybe got one snow a year that melted off in a couple of days.

“They said it might snow, so I was expecting a light coating as usual, but I guess I should have paid more attention,” Jake said. “Coffee?”

The question drew my gaze back to him. He’d taken off his coat, and it now hung behind him, covered in snow. It made me suddenly aware that I was probably getting his couch wet.

“Oh.” I stood up and looked at the spot where I’d been sitting. “I’m sorry. In fact, I traipsed across this room in my tennis shoes. I got snow all over your floor.”

There were just small markings where my feet had tread, but that wouldn’t be too good for wood floors, right? All I knew about them was my mom always freaked out when we got our wood floors wet growing up.

“It’s all good,” he said, then repeated his earlier question. “Coffee?”

“That would be great,” I said.

As he left the small room that hid the rest of the cabin from the front door, I used the opportunity to take off my coat and carefully put it on the hook next to his. Then I dusted off my pants and shoes as best I could over his welcome mat before finally taking off my shoes and carefully making my way back to the couch. I managed to get there without getting my socks wet. I considered that a win.

“Cream, sugar?” he asked, peeking through the doorway he’d disappeared through minutes earlier.

“Both,” I said. “I like my coffee a light caramel color. I can come help?—”

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You just rest.”

I frowned over that piece of instruction. It almost sounded like he wanted to take care of me. I didn’t need someone to take care of me, though. I was an independent woman, starting my new life in my own place. Well, it was a place I shared with someone else, but it counted.

But when Jake returned with two coffee cups and handed one to me, I was overcome with an emotion I hadn’t expected. The feeling of being cared for by a guy so hot, he’d turn heads no matter where he went.

I liked it. I liked it more than I wanted to admit.

“Is that enough creamer?” he asked.

As he held the cup out to me, my hands reflexively went around it, which put both hands solidly on top of his. At the contact, my system seemed to go into overload, my heart racing. Warmth flooded my body, and my mouth went incredibly dry—so dry, I wasn’t even sure I could speak.

I nodded and stared at the mug, but only as we managed to shift it from his hand to mine did I finally take a look at what was inside it. “Perfect,” I said.

It was more of a croak. I hurried to lift the mug to my mouth just to take care of the dryness problem.

“It might be lightening up a little out there,” he said, walking over to the blinds and twisting the pole to open them. “But it’s still going to be a while before all this melts.”

He stared out the window quietly for a minute or two, taking a sip from his mug. That was when I realized I hadn’t explained how I managed to crash into his tree.

“I’m sorry about your tree,” I said. “I’m sure the insurance will pay to replace it. If it doesn’t survive, that is.”

He turned to look at me. “I doubt insurance is going to pay to replace a tree. But it’s all good.”

I stared at him, holding my mug just above my lap. “You’re not mad?”

“Nah. People have been after me since I moved in to decorate that thing every year. I guess the previous owners always did. Apparently, the fact that I don’t decorate it has made driving up and down the mountain miserable for people.”

“You’re the town Scrooge,” I said with a smile.

I waited for his response to that. The guy seemed to have a permanent scowl, so it was hard to tell if I’d hit a nerve by calling him Scrooge. But it was more of a question than an observation.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I’d been so sure he was going to say something about the Scrooge comment that his question threw me for a second. Hungry? I did a quick inventory and realized that if not for my accident, I’d be happily munching on my grandma’s bacon and cheese egg bites right now.

“I actually am,” I said. “But I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Remote’s right there.” He gestured toward the end table on the opposite side of the couch from where I sat. “Make yourself at home. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”