4. Maya

4

MAYA

As we make our way up the mountain, I have to fight to keep my teeth from chattering. Even though Cade the Crude has cranked up the heat, the bitter cold has seeped into my bones.

Every part of me is shaking.

The truth is that it has nothing to do with almost freezing to death in the storm and everything to do with being mere feet away from Cade.

He smells divine.

Looks even better.

As much as I hate to admit it, he's saved me from turning into a human popsicle. But he's still a hockey player, and I need to remember that.

The vibration of my phone startles me from my thoughts. I take the phone out of my pocket, praying that it's AAA, saying they're on the way to tow my car. I want to spend as little time as possible with Cade Wylie. However, the minute I start to read the message, my heart sinks.

"Due to the severe weather, we are unable to give you a timeframe for when we will be able to provide you with roadside service. We apologize for this inconvenience. Immediately dial 911 if you are in an unsafe situation."

"Great," I grumble.

"Let me guess. Your tow isn't on the way." Cade snarls.

"Don't be such a toddler."

"Me? A toddler?" He tosses his head back and laughs. "That's rich coming from you."

"I am not a child." I grit my teeth.

"Right."

"I'm not."

"Okay. Whatever you say," he chuckles. "But I'm not the one who's soaking wet and standing outside in a raging blizzard refusing to get in the car. That was you."

"There's something wrong with you." I huff.

"Right back at you, duchess."

I scowl at his profile, trying to think of something clever to say. When nothing comes to mind, I turn to face the dashboard. Wow, this snow isn't stopping. It's coming down fast and furious.

He makes a right-hand turn onto a narrow road packed with snow. We climb higher and higher until we enter a clearing. Up ahead isn't a cabin. It's a massive A-frame house with a full glass front and an oversized two-car garage surrounded by pine trees.

It's amazing.

"This is your cabin?"

"Not good enough for you?" he snaps as hits the garage door opener.

"For your information, that's not what I'm thinking at all. It's beautiful, but it looks more like a ski chalet than a cabin."

"Whatever." He gets out of the car and starts taking out bags.

"Can I help?"

"No," he barks. Just go inside. Take off that wet coat. I'll start a fire as soon as I put the groceries away. Go upstairs. The third door on the right is where you'll find some clothes you can change into."

The nerve of this man. "First of all, stop ordering me around. And second, do you really think I'm going to wear your girlfriend's clothes?" I follow him into the house.

"No." He hoists fistfuls of grocery bags onto the granite countertop. "Sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Prescott, but the clothes belong to my cousin, Sofie. She used to come out here a few times a year to get away from the city. But she got married a little over a year ago and is now traveling Europe with her husband. She told me to donate her stuff. I just never got around to it."

"Yeah, right."

"You calling me a liar again?"

"Well…" I looked around the gorgeous space. "You keep calling me Ms. Prescott."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

I lean against the counter and let out a long, hard exhale. "I don't know. Can you please call me Maya?"

"Alright, duchess."

"You just want to torture me, don't you?"

"If I wanted to torture you, I would have left you in the snow." Cade opens the refrigerator. "Now, hurry up and get changed out of those wet clothes. You can help me with dinner." He gives me a smirk that makes my toes curl. "That is if you're not afraid of the kitchen."

"You are insufferable."

"Change." He sets a head of lettuce on a cutting board along with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, and an onion. "You can make the salad as long as you don't use the knife to carve out my heart."

"Don't tempt me."

"Upstairs." He points to the doorway.

"I'm going not because you're telling me to but because I want to get away from you." And because I'm freezing to death in these wet clothes. But I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he's right.

I march down the long hallway and step into a gorgeous open living room. The walls are cedar-lined. There are exposed beams. A sweeping staircase, and everywhere I turn, there are massive windows that frame unbelievable woodland views. In the center of the room is a huge double-sided fieldstone fireplace.

It's exactly the kind of house I want to build.

As I walk up the staircase, I'm startled that we have the same taste. I pass by Thomas Kinkade artwork and can't believe it. We like the same art, too? When I peek into the rooms and see rustic furniture decorated in blues and greens accented with shades of soft ivory, my stomach trembles.

It's the exact color scheme I would choose.

It's a fluke.

Nothing but a coincidence.

There is no way on earth I have anything in common with Cade Wylie. How could I? He's arrogant. Pigheaded. And obnoxious. Which, of course, I am not.

I thrust out my chin and make my way to the bedroom.

I'm stuck with this horrible man for now.

And as soon as I can, I'm leaving.