Snowed In With You

Chapter One

Sara

This couldn’t be happening.

My brother’s voice continued to rumble through the phone I had pressed tightly to my ear, oblivious to the maelstrom of panic now crashing through me.

When I’d reluctantly agreed to go on this trip – mostly to stop Rob’s whining – I’d known it was possible he was coming, as this was supposed to be a thank-you trip for organising the wedding.

But I’d thought, It’s a big lodge, I’m sure I can avoid him for a week.

Maybe he won’t even come.

Ha.

Apparently Rob (and whoever I’d pissed off upstairs) had other ideas.

What could I say though? Um, sorry Rob, but hell no?

It would seem like a pretty strong reaction to someone that (as far as he knew) I’d had only a passing acquaintance with and there were a thousand reasons I didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole.

Firstly, it was none of Rob’s business what I did or who I did it with.

Secondly, he was my brother and the thought of talking to him about sex made me want to barf.

Lastly… it was hard to simply tell your brother you had a one night stand with his best friend.

At his wedding.

And it hadn’t even been worth it.

‘Sara? Hel-lo, God I swear you are the most – Have you even been listening to anything I’ve said?’

Rob sounded annoyed, it was a tone I was fairly familiar with as it was almost always directed at me and I’d heard my fair share of it back in September when I’d flown out to California to stay with Rob and Tanya for the wedding.

Admittedly, on this occasion he was right to be mad, I had tuned out all of his words after Fletcher will probably be on his way to pick you up by now.

That sort of seemed like information he might have wanted to mention before this whole trip was organised.

The fact that I was going to have to spend several hours in the tight confines of Fletcher Harris’ car and pretend like we hadn’t screwed each other’s brains out less than a month ago?

Not that Rob knew that last part so he’d probably just thought it made ‘economical sense’ seeing as Fletcher apparently lived close-by.

‘I’m here, I’m listening,’ I said with a huff of breath, flipping my auburn bangs out of my eyes a little harder than was strictly necessary.

‘So, you’ve packed a swimsuit then, yeah?’

‘Erm–’

Rob swore colourfully, ‘There’s a sauna in the lodge.

Bring a suit so I don’t have to see your naked ass.’

‘Sure,’ was what I said, but internally I was screaming.

Pack a suit? What swimwear did I even own any more? I lived in Anchorage, not Florida.

This day was only going to get worse.

I’d never even thought to ask Fletcher where he was from, I had just assumed he lived near Robert in Cali.

I’d never felt more terrible about being wrong.

‘Listen, I’ve got to go, I’ll see you at the lodge, right?’

Rob murmured an affirmative and then said sternly before hanging up, ‘Be nice to Fletch.

He’s not been himself recently.’

Not been himself? Was this me reading into things, or was Fletcher just as unhappy about my presence on this trip as I was about his? Which, honestly, seemed a little unfair –

I hadn’t done anything besides give him the ‘best head of his life’ and let’s be real, there was no way it wasn’t the best sex he’d ever had either.

I was there.

It was great.

The evening up until then had been nice too, we’d laughed together and danced together and I still couldn’t shake off the way his eyes had heated when I’d told him I was going to bed.

‘Oh,’ he sounded disappointed as he glanced away from me.

‘You’re tired?’

‘Not at all,’ I’d said with a slow smile and an answering grin had tugged at his mouth as his eyes turned molten.

He wanted me and I was more than happy to oblige.

I groaned as I tried to brush the memory away, why did he have to live so close? How had I not known? Well, actually, his surfer-boy tan and blue eyes screamed California, and I had just never questioned it.

Was I even swimsuit appropriate at the moment? I frantically thought back, trying to remember my situation down there when I’d put on panties this morning –

I couldn’t remember anything too wild and it looked like headlights were approaching outside, so I just had to trust that I’d kept up some form of maintenance downstairs.

It was a little risky because I hadn’t slept with anyone since Zach, who had been a rebound fling that had fizzled almost as soon as my ass had hit his bedsheets, and I didn’t always bother to shave if it was only me, myself, and I heading to orgasm-town, population… one.

I dropped my duffel to the floor and ran to my bedroom to search for some sort of swimwear before the devil himself knocked on the door.

It was times like these that I was glad for the lack of stairs in my house, everything on one floor and easily accessible.

It made rolling to bed after an ice cream fuelled crime documentary binge so much easier.

I rummaged around in the top drawer of my vanity, pushing aside tights that I hadn’t worn in forever and a vibrator that had run out of battery, until I found the one swimsuit I owned.

It was a questionable shade of black that had mostly faded to gray, at this point I supposed I just had to hope it didn’t disintegrate the second I stepped into a pre-sauna shower.

Oh god, I was going to be showering.

With Fletcher.

Getting sweaty in a hot sauna, with Fletcher.

It was hard to forget someone when they kept popping up uninvited into your life.

No, it was going to be fine.

Fletcher didn’t want to be around me anymore than I wanted to be around him, we would find an amicable way to avoid each other, take turns in the sauna and have a great (or at least not terrible) trip with minimal interaction.

How worried did I really need to be? Should I be treating this like seeing an ex for the first time? I glanced into the large mirror hanging in my hallway as I made my way towards the front door.

My green eyes looked a little bigger than usual and spots of colour had flared to life at the tops of my cheekbones, this often happened when I thought about Fletcher and our night together.

Which wasn’t frequently, damn it.

I raised my arms and gave my pits a quick sniff, rummaged in my bag and slicked on a little extra deodorant for the inevitable nervous sweats I was going to have.

Being trapped in a car with a man who was so ashamed of our night together that he’d left before I’d woken up was not going to be good for my nerves or my self-esteem.

I pressed my hand to my face and breathed into it just as the doorbell rang and I whipped it away so fast I almost caught myself across the cheek.

He was here.

Would he look the same? Maybe he wasn’t as gorgeous as I remembered, all long-lashes, golden skin and floppy blonde-brown hair that I’d run my hands through while we–

No.

I wasn’t going there.

I needed to open the door, smile and say hello, and then sit in silence for the three hours it would take to get to the cabin in the middle of nowhere that Rob and Tanya had booked.

I hadn’t even had the chance to do my last minute packing checks, too distracted by anxiety and last-minute swimsuit rummaging.

Well, if I hadn’t already packed it the likelihood was that it was something I could live without for a week or so.

There was a blurry silhouette showing through the frosted glass of my front door and my body trembled all over.

Don’t be ridiculous, I thought to myself, he’s just a man.

I flung the door open and Fletcher jumped.

Maybe he was just as nervous as I was trying not to be.

His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his lips parted as he took me in and well, fuck.

He looked just as good as I remembered.

He had on blue jeans, boots and a thick knit sweater and scarf.

His hair looked soft, free of the gel he’d worn at Rob’s wedding, and the lines by his eyes crinkled when he gave me a strained smile.

‘Hi,’ I said and Fletcher’s smile instantly dropped like just the sound of my voice was enough to offend him.

‘Hey,’ he said evenly, voice empty of any emotion and the small flame of heat still burning inside me tried to gutter out, but the tightly balled fists at his side gave some idiotic part of me hope.

For what, I had no clue.

He’s an asshole, I reminded myself, don’t forget about the note.

I held on to that thought, trying to keep it at the forefront of my mind as my eyes travelled over his broad shoulders and the planes of his chest, visible even through the chunky sweater.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked, a small bite of impatience in his voice and I nodded, lifting my duffel and moving to step out of the house but found myself blocked by a well-muscled arm.

I breathed through my mouth, trying to keep the scent of his cologne out of my nose and my head as I looked up at him with raised brows.

‘I think you’re forgetting something,’ Fletcher said, a small smirk twitching over his lips and vanishing as quickly as it came.

Hell yes, I thought, I was trying to forget a whole damn lot – namely, him.

He nodded behind me and I turned to look at what he was pointing at, my face burning a thousand shades of red as I saw my bikini bottoms lying on the floor by the shoe rack, apparently having fallen from my hand before I could shove them in my bag.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered as I bent to scoop them up and stow them away.

There was something odd in Fletcher’s eyes as I moved back to him, something that took me back to that night once more.

I focused on my breathing, gesturing Fletcher to move out of the way as I stepped out of the house, locked the door and strode over to the shiny black SUV in my driveway.

Don’t be stupid.

He didn’t want me.

He’d made that abundantly clear when I’d woken up at 11AM to cold sheets and a hastily scrawled note half crumpled on his pillow.

This never happened.

Damn right it hadn’t and I was going to do my best to pretend exactly that.