Chapter Text
“Oh, thank God.” Julie Molina loosened her death grip on the steering wheel, put the rental car into park, and watched the windshield wipers shudder to a stop. Realizing she was actually shaking, she rested her head on the steering column. Note to self: LA girls should not drive in the mountains in a snowstorm.
She took a minute to just breathe, unevenly at first but gradually feeling steadier. Finally she lifted her head, catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Exhaustion was etched on her face—not just from the magnitude of the decision she faced, but from the early morning meetings in New York City followed by an arduous drive to this mountain cabin. Yeah. Looking good, Molina.
She shook her hands out slightly and flexed her fingers, attempting to relieve the cramping caused by her efforts to keep the car on the road. As the elevation had changed in the last twenty miles, the threatening snow had picked up. Being from SoCal, she wasn’t used to snowy drives to begin with, but between the storm and the approaching dusk, Julie had been acutely aware of every twist and turn of the snow-slicked narrow lane that hugged the mountain on one side and dropped off into blackness on the other.
She took two more deep breaths, releasing each slowly. “Nope! No panicking after the fact! You made it.” She said the words aloud, and then chuckled. “Good job, Molina. Not even a full day into your ‘Me-Time’ Retreat and you’re already talking to yourself.” Honestly, it was a good thing her father wasn’t around; he’d probably encourage her to talk to her therapist, Dr. Turner, again. It was a default suggestion whenever Julie had something stressful on her mind.
She smiled fondly as she thought of her father and little brother—not so little now. She was going to miss them over the next few days, but they weren’t going to be home for Christmas anyway. Because of that, her best friend, Flynn, had convinced her to take some alone time to think over her career options. Julie had pointed out she could easily just do that in her own apartment, but Flynn had insisted there would be too many distractions and a change of venue would equal a change in perspective. She’d helped Julie book the cabin getaway so she could be away from the pressures of her job and think about her next steps.
Julie tried to check out said cabin, but the windshield was already covered with a layer of snow. The temperature in the car was starting to drop as well, since the engine was off. “Once more into the breach it is.” She plucked a red knit cap from the passenger seat and pulled it low over her dark curls, making sure to cover her ears.
Exiting the car, she stepped onto the drive and moved to the trunk. Opening it, she shouldered her backpack and lifted a small suitcase, carrying them up to the front door. Then she returned to the car for the three bags of groceries she had purchased in the nearest town at the bottom of the mountain. From the cover of the porch, she used the car fob to close the trunk and lock the car. Not that there’s anyone around to steal it in this storm! she thought.
She exchanged the fob for her phone and scrolled to the message that Flynn had sent with the unlock code for the key box for the cabin. Ready to enter the code, she looked around for the box. Huh. Flynn’s message had clearly said the key box would be inside the storm door, but there was nothing there. Taking a chance, she reached for the door handle and sighed in relief when the knob gave way under her hand. The caretaker must have left the door open.
She typed a quick text to let Flynn know she’d arrived but noticed she didn’t have cell service. Texting Flynn and her dad would have to wait until she figured out how to get on the WiFi. Julie gave a small shrug, put her phone back in her jeans pocket, and pushed open the door. Stepping through, she tried to take in the dark room. There was a wood stove with a glass front on the other side of the room, but the fire was the only thing giving off light. She could just make out a sofa, a coffee table, a couple of guitars in stands, a dining area, and a kitchen, but it was too dark to see details.
Julie reached out a hand and fumbled along the wall until she found a series of light switches. She flipped them all, but nothing happened. Okay, that’s weird. She tried each switch individually. Still nothing. So, yeah, the electricity may be out. That’s happening. Horror movies definitely didn’t all start this way. Nope.
She pulled luggage and groceries in from the porch, and set them to the side of the door, along with her purse. There was a mat and shoe rack on the other side, with a coat rack hung above it, so she slipped off her boots, set them to dry on the mat, and hung up her coat. Crossing the floor in her socks, she was grateful for both the light and the warmth that radiated from the wood stove. Okay. Fire good. The lights would come on eventually, right?
She held her hands out to the fire to warm them, but turned around quickly when she heard the door behind her open and close. She could just make out the outline of a man as he strode through the door. Julie involuntarily took a step backward, but that put her closer to the woodstove with nowhere to go.
She squinted in the dim light. The man was taller than she, and he wore work boots, jeans, a sheepskin coat, and a beanie. He was carrying something, and she finally realized the man was holding an armload of firewood. Oh. The caretaker. Of course.
He took a step further into the room, but now that she’d figured out who he was, she was no longer alarmed.
“Thank you,” she said warmly. “I appreciate the fire, but the electricity seems to be off.”
He looked at her silently, so Julie continued to ramble. “The wood will be helpful. It was kind of you to bring it.”
He still didn’t speak, but he crossed the room to unload the split logs into the rack near the stove. When he finished, he turned to face her, an eyebrow quirking up in question.
Julie opened her mouth to speak again, but now that she could see him better in the dancing firelight, she was rendered speechless. The man was handsome: he sported the scruff of a new beard, and his hair curled out from under the hat, twisting in many directions. Julie swallowed. Objectively, he was hot, in a mountain man sort of way.
She licked her lips, which suddenly felt very dry. He clocked the movement and frowned at her. Finally he spoke. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Um, I’m your Airbnb tenant for the next few days?” Don’t make that sound like a question. You paid for this stay.
He raised one eyebrow again, as if to challenge that statement.
Julie took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m Julie.” He showed no sign of recognition at her name. “Julie Molina.” He just kept staring. “My friend Flynn made the reservation?” The last sentence again came out like a question.
The man stared down at her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “Luke,” he finally said, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Is there a problem? I have the receipt for my deposit payment.”
“So we actually have a couple problems,” the man, Luke, said looking down at her.
“For starters, the lights don’t work.” Good job, Julie. Like he isn’t aware the lights are out!
Luke’s lips quirked up in an easy grin. “Okay. We have three problems. Number one, the lights don’t work. They went out a few minutes ago. The heavy snow must have brought down a line somewhere. But we also have a couple other problems.”
Julie nodded her head sagely, not that she, the girl from LA, knew about snow downing powerlines. “Is there a generator?”
“Nope, been meaning to install one, but the woodstove will keep the place warm, and there are battery-powered lanterns.”
“Okay. You’ll have to show me how the woodstove works.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well, that brings us to problem number two. You can’t have a reservation to stay here. This isn’t an Airbnb. I don’t rent out my cabin.”
“Um, what?” Julie reached frantically for her phone. There was still no service, but the last few texts from Flynn after she landed were still on her chat where she’d asked Flynn to resend the address, and Google Maps was still up as well. “8100 County Road Northeast,” she read off the screen. Turning it around to show him.
“Yes. That is what it says.” He looked at her skeptically. “And this is 8100, but again, it’s my private cabin. Not a rental.”
Julie’s fingers were flying over the phone as she dug through her downloads for the rental contract. Grunting in victory when she found it, she opened the document, and turned her phone toward him. “See 81—. Shit. 1800. Oh, my God. I am so embarrassed. I’m going to kill Flynn.” She paused, checked herself. “Nope. Can’t blame Flynn for the typo. My fault for not checking the source. I’m so sorry. I’ll just get out of your way.”
She was rambling and she knew it. So she clamped her lips together and mutely shook her head. She was glad the cabin was dark because she could feel her cheeks flaming. She took a step back toward the door. She groaned when she realized she’d have to get back in the car and drive down the effing mountain to the main road in the thickening snow. God, could this day get any worse? Next time she needed to mull over career options, she was definitely going somewhere warm.
She tried to take another step, but Luke’s hand closed around her fingers; she bit back a gasp as she felt a spark of electricity at the touch. Static build-up from your socks, she thought, but then her brain reminded her of the fact that Luke was still wearing his rubber-soled work boots.
“I’m afraid you’re forgetting about problem number three.”
She looked down at her feet in resignation. “Okay.”
“I can’t let you leave.”
Her head flew up at that. Wait. What? Was the hot guy a serial killer?
He must have seen the fear cross her face because he quickly dropped her hand and took a step back. He raised his hands in supplication, seemingly trying to indicate he was harmless. “The roads aren’t safe because of the storm.”
“Oh, that.” She heaved a sigh of relief. “No, I’m sure it will be fine. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
“Julie, how many times did you almost slip off the road on the drive up to my cabin?”
“Once? Twice?” She looked at him in dismay.
“Exactly. You’d have to navigate the drive and the access road downhill, not to mention several more miles of the main road, at least. You’d never make it. Your car has summer tires.”
“Summer tires?” Julie blinked at him, trying to make his words make sense.
“In this part of the country, we change to winter tires, or better still, we use chains in snow. You have neither. I can’t let you go.”
“Oh, that’s kind, really, but this isn’t your responsibility. I’m not your responsibility.”
“You’re in my house. That makes you my responsibility. Julie, look outside. It’s dark and it’s snowing hard. We’re supposed to get a foot or more—”
“All the more reason to go now.” But when she reached for the door and opened it, she saw that her car was covered in about an inch of snow already, and although she knew there were trees on the other side of the drive, she couldn’t see them through the swirl of white flakes. “I could—”
“Imagine how terrible I’d feel if something happened to you. Please stay.”
He seemed sincere, but she shook her head. “You don’t even know me. I don’t know you.”
“Are you a serial killer? A regular killer? Your average everyday felon? Crazy stalker fan?”
Julie huffed out a surprised laugh. “No, of course not. Are you?”
“I’m sure it’s what a serial killer would say, but no, I’m perfectly harmless.” He grinned. “You assure me, you’re perfectly harmless. So can we just ride out the storm tonight, and we can sort out the rest tomorrow?”
It seemed he could tell she was wavering because he flashed her a pout and puppy dog eyes. “Please? It’s bad enough we’re going to starve to death with the electricity out—not to mention caffeine withdrawal from the lack of working coffee pot. Don’t make me worry, too.”
“I guess I can help with the starving to death.” She nodded at her grocery bags still near the door.
“You can cook?”
“Am I able to cook? Yes. But can I today? Is your stove gas?” She shrugged. “I was going to make an omelet, but it’d be better on the regular stove. I can try on the wood one if that’s the only way to do it.”
“No, the kitchen stove is gas. An omelet is great. You’re a goddess! I haven’t had fresh, homemade food in weeks.”
“How is that even possible?”
“I’ve been traveling for work. Just got home for the holidays a couple days ago. My friends arranged for frozen casseroles in the freezer, but it’s not the same.”
“Okay. Deal. Home cooking in exchange for shelter from the storm.” She held out her hand and he solemnly shook it. Julie noticed the static electricity was back, and standing close enough to Luke to touch him, Julie was reminded again that the mountain man was attractive. Shit. This was going to be a problem.
*~*~*
Luke put a camping lantern on the counter, so Julie had some light to work with. “We’ll need to light the stove with a lighter,” he said. “The electric starter obviously won’t work with the power out. How high do you want the flame?”
“Can you just start it on low? Then I can adjust as needed.”
“Sure thing.” Luke leaned over the stove rings and turned the knob for the front burner. When the gas began to hiss, he held a lighter near it and it ignited with a whoosh. He jerked his hand back to avoid being burned.
“Careful!” She grabbed at his hand, checking it in the dim light. She turned his palm over to check the other side, gently running her fingers over his knuckles. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “I may have singed a hair or two, but it’s fine.”
Julie looked at him doubtfully but dropped his hand. “Okay, if you’re sure we don’t need snow to treat a burn.” She reached toward the knob and lowered the flame; then she put the skillet over the heat. “So to make an omelet, we just need to chop some veggies and beat some eggs. How are you at chopping vegetables?”
“Is it like chopping wood?” Luke asked.
Julie passed him some mushrooms, some scallions, and a pepper as she laughed. “Not at all.”
“Well, how hard can it be?” Luke pulled a knife out of the butcher block and began attacking a mushroom with it.
Whack. Whack. Whack. Julie held up her hand in protest. “Luke! Stop. You’re not trying to kill it.”
He lay the knife on the cutting board and shrugged at her. “I told you my friends make sure I don’t starve.” He leaned both hands on the counter.
“Look, everyone should be able to cook a basic meal or two. It’s a survival skill.”
He shook his head. “Never had time to learn; also, my job means we eat out a lot.”
Julie came around to his side of the counter and ducked under his arm, so she stood in front of him. She picked up a mushroom and the knife. “Like this. See the tip doesn’t lift up really from the board. It’s kind of a rocking motion.” She finished one and cut a slice off the second mushroom, flipping it onto the newly flat side. “Now you try.”
Luke took the knife from her and reached around her to hold the mushroom in his left hand.
“No, curl your knuckles under so you don’t risk slicing your fingers.”
He jerked his hand back. “Yeah, that would be bad.”
“You’ll be fine, Luke.” Julie picked up his hand and positioned it on the mushroom, pressing on his fingers so they curled away from the knife. Then she lay her right hand on top of his over the handle of the knife. Guiding him in the rocking motion she had demonstrated. Together they sliced through the mushroom. “You’ve got it!”
Julie looked back over her shoulder to grin at him. Only then realizing just how intimately they were standing—his front pressed against her back, his arms encircling her, and her hands on his. “Um. Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “Good job.” She hastily lifted his left arm and let herself out. “So keep going just like that.”
She returned to the stove side of the countertop and dropped a pat of butter into the skillet. Next, she began cracking eggs into a bowl. By the time she got to the third egg, she realized Luke had stopped chopping and was just staring at her. “What? Did eggshell go in?” She looked down into the bowl to check.
“What? No. I don’t think so anyway. It’s just you’re doing that one handed.”
“Haven’t you ever seen someone do that? It’s really not hard.”
Luke shook his head and his face fell. “Just my mom. When she’d make cookies when I was a kid.”
She heard the pain laced through his voice and jumped to the wrong conclusion. “I’m sorry, Luke, I lost my mom about ten years ago. I know how you feel.”
“Oh, no.” Luke straightened and hurriedly said, “I mean, my mom’s not dead. It’s just my parents and I don’t see eye to eye on my life choices, so we haven’t really been close since before I was in high school. It’s just watching you do the eggs reminded me we didn’t always fight about everything, and it just kind of hit me . . .” His voice trailed off. “I’m so sorry about your mom though.”
“Thanks. It’s gotten easier,” she said lightly. “No chance of making up with yours?”
“Nah. We talk sometimes, or rather she talks at me. I think the better I get at my job, the more upset she gets. It’s like she was hoping I’d suck at it and have to get the sort of job she envisioned . . .” He paused and went back to chopping vegetables. “Sorry, this talk is probably too heavy for omelets. You’re pretty easy to talk to, Julie Molina.”
Julie smiled and returned to cracking eggs, careful to do them two handed. “I grew up with supportive friends and family. Some of it had to rub off.”
They worked in an easy silence for a while, until she had to explain to Luke which parts of the scallion and pepper to chop and how small to make the pieces. Meanwhile, Julie threw the chopped mushrooms into the pan, added the other veggies when they were ready, and then poured the whisked egg mixture over the whole thing. A bag of shredded cheese waited to be added after the eggs set.
When the omelet was done, Julie cut it in half before sliding one part onto each plate that Luke set out for her. She added orange quarters Luke had cut to each plate. “I have bread, we can toast in the pan, too, if this isn’t enough food.”
“Nah, I’m good for now.”
He picked up both plates and carried them to the table, already laid with silverware and cups of water. Julie followed with the lantern.
They sat across from each other in the dim light. Luke took a bite of omelet and practically moaned in joy. “Oh my God. This is so good.”
“Again, eggs aren’t exactly hard, Luke.” Julie smiled at him across the table.
Luke scoffed. “I’m not usually allowed in the kitchen. You start a pan fire one time and suddenly no one trusts you to make anything.”
Julie brought startled eyes up to meet his. “What? That’s not—”
Luke waved a hand in her direction, cutting her off. “It was fine. I put it out with the lid. The guys just freaked when the smoke detectors went off.”
“The guys?”
“Yeah, my so-called best friends.”
“The ones who leave you frozen meals?”
“Yeah, them. They may have banned me from the kitchen.”
Julie chuckled. “Sounds like they have your well-being in mind, anyway.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty great.”
They chatted amicably over the omelet. Luke made Julie laugh when he spoke around smiling orange-rind lips as he ate one of his orange quarters.
“What are you five? Even my little brother gave that up years ago.”
That had led to a discussion about Julie’s family, her two best friends, how she missed them, but they’d do a big Christmas when they all returned to LA. Luke looked wistful at the happy family talk, and Julie had placed a hand over his for a brief moment. He gave her a wan smile and squeezed her hand before changing the subject.
Julie marveled at how comfortable she felt with Luke. They seamlessly moved around each other as they cleaned up from dinner prep. Luke had insisted on washing the dishes, since she had cooked, but Julie dried them and put them away where Luke directed her.
She stifled a yawn, and then looked in surprise at her watch. It was actually pretty late, and she was definitely tired.
“So, what are the sleeping arrangements?” she asked, hanging the drying towel on the rack.
Luke rubbed at the back of his neck—a gesture Julie was coming to realize meant he was nervous. “Um, well, I was going to give you the bed.”
What? The bed? Did that imply one bed? Julie’s brain stuttered a bit. “I can’t kick you out of your room.”
“It’s actually the loft.” He jerked his head to indicate the stairs to the loft area that overhung the kitchen space.
“Oh, okay. Where’s your bedroom then?” She scanned the room trying to find a door she’d missed.
“That is my room. This is a vacation cabin. I don’t live here year-round, so I don’t need much space. If I ever need more, there’s room to add on, but—”
“Luke, I definitely am not kicking you out of your bed. You just got home, and I’m the one intruding.”
“I travel a lot, Julie. I’ve definitely slept on worse things than the couch.”
They both turned to look at the piece of leather furniture in question. It was a two-person loveseat and absolutely too small for Luke.
“Nope. I insist. You’d kill your back curled up on that, and it’s just my size.”
“Julie.”
“Luke.” She held his gaze.
“Fine.” He huffed out a breath. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?”
Julie grinned. “Only all the time.”
In the end, Luke helped he make up the couch with sheets, a pillow, and a blanket. He insisted she go through the bathroom first. Holding the door open for her, he handed her a bucket of melted snow.
She juggled her toiletry kit and took the handle from him. “What’s this?”
Luke ran his hands through his hair. “For, you know”—he clicked his tongue and jerked his chin toward the bathroom—"flushing the toilet. We’d better save the cistern water for toothbrushing and cooking, since we don’t know when the electricity will be back on.”
“The water doesn’t flow without electricity?”
“Out here we are on well water, and I have the storage cistern in the attic, which is gravity driven, but it won’t refill from the well right now because the pump doesn’t work without electricity. Thus the bucket.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”
While she was changing and brushing her teeth, Luke added a stack of wood to the fire. He turned as she exited the bathroom, and she felt his eyes sweep over her fuzzy slippers, the red and green checked flannel sleep pants, and the matching “Naughty” Christmas T-shirt. He grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
Julie was glad the dim light hid her blush. “Carlos—that’s my brother—claimed the ‘Nice’ jammies, the rat.”
Luke laughed. “As an only child I can’t say I ever had to fight my siblings over Christmas pjs.”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
His eyes caught hers and held a moment. “Oh, I do.” He slid past her as he made his way to the bathroom.
She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and crawled between the sheet and the blanket on the couch. Fluffing the pillow to make a cradle for her head, she settled down and closed her eyes. Letting herself relax, she was only vaguely aware of the lantern light as Luke climbed the stairs to the loft.
“Night, Julie,” he called softly.
“Goodnight, Luke.” She smiled warmly into the pillow and allowed sleep to take her.
*~*~*
Julie was cold. Correction: Julie was freezing. The fire had dwindled to embers, and it wasn’t throwing off much heat. She tried to burrow further under the blankets, but her feet were cold, and her nose felt icy. Her teeth chattered again.
She heard Luke’s soft tread on the loft stairs and felt him come hover over her. “You’re cold,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
She turned miserable eyes up to him and took in his T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sleep pants—not even flannel ones, she noted bitterly. “Well, yeah. I’m an LA girl, and it’s outdoor coat weather inside this cabin.”
“Julie, do you trust me?”
Julie blinked at him through the darkness. It was a weird question for the wee hours of the morning, but yeah, she supposed she did trust him. If he’d wanted to kill her or assault her, he could have done it already. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Great, I trust you, too, now.”
She blinked at him. “Wait. Now? What? You thought I wanted to kill you?” She shook her head, maybe her brain was more frozen than she’d thought.
Luke scoffed. “As if. I was more thinking ‘crazy stalker fan.’”
She didn’t really have much time to process that before he scooped her up into his arms, blankets and all.
“Luke!” she shrieked. “What are you doing?” She tried to flail her arms in protest, or at least detangle herself enough from the blanket enough to find purchase on his arms or neck, so she could hold onto him, but she was wrapped up like a burrito.
He moved with her back toward the stairs. “I could build the fire up again, but it would just die down again. Anyway, Julie, did you know heat rises?”
Julie was shivering in his arms, so she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. “I’ve heard that, yes.”
“Also, I’ve been told I give off heat like a furnace. You’re freezing, LA Girl. I could hear you shaking all the way up in the loft. So I figured we could conserve body heat and share the bed.”
Could your brain actually freeze? Because it felt like her brain was frozen.
He reached the loft and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. Yanking away the blanket that she was tangled in, he pulled the covers up to her chin and then added the blanket she’d been using on top.
“I’d like to avoid you turning into a popsicle. But if you won’t let me take the couch, you have a choice: share body heat or freeze to death alone on the sofa.”
Julie grimaced and Luke laughed. “Let’s at least try option one. Face the wall, Julie.” Julie turned on her side, placing her back toward the middle of the bed. Luke slipped under the sheets next to her. Turning away from her, he scootched over to press his back against hers.
Julie’s brain was still desperately trying to catch up. But then sensation took over. He was putting out an abundance of heat, and it was at least ten degrees warmer in the loft than downstairs.
“Better?” he asked.
She was grateful for the darkness, which hid her blushes. “Yes, but oh, my gosh, how are you so warm.”
“I’ve been told I’m always hot.”
Julie snorted to cover a laugh.
“Not like that, you dork. Go back to sleep, Julie, so I can sleep. It was impossible before. I could hear your teeth chattering!”
“Hmm.” Julie hummed sleepily, relaxing into the pillow.
She stretched out her feet to rest them on his calves. He hissed at the cold on his warm skin. “Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t pull her feet away. “And thanks, Luke, really.”
“It’s all good. Go to sleep now.”
And miraculously she did.