6. Maya

6

MAYA

I rub the sleep from my eyes, roll over, and stare at the magnificent view through the large, arched window. The boughs of tall pines dip gracefully under the weight of the falling snow. As far as the eye can see, the world is covered in a thick blanket of white. A lone cardinal sits on the edge of a birdfeeder, creating a splash of color in the middle of the white wonderland. This is why I want to buy land in Thunder Ridge.

I want the serenity, the peace.

Where else can you wake up and feel like you're living inside of a snow globe?

I reach over to grab my phone to see if AAA sent another message.

Great. There's no service…which means I'm trapped, and any hope of leaving with my sanity intact is gone.

For the life of me, I still can't understand why I told Cade about my sister.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, I know why.

I'm attracted to the man. Even worse? I like him. And despite my most valiant efforts, I haven't stopped thinking about him for three years.

I'm doomed.

I grab a pillow, toss it over my face, and let out a small shriek.

If his smug smile stops making me weak in the knees or if his deep-blue eyes stop burning my skin, I might survive this horrible encounter unscathed.

He's a hockey player.

And I can't fall for a hockey player.

I just can't.

I stare at the ceiling, ticking through my options. I can stay in this room and brood until AAA rescues my car. But that would be rude. I can pretend to be the Ice Princess the world thinks that I am and make Cade's life a living hell. But that would be going too far. Or I can take a shower, get dressed, and make Cade breakfast as a thank you for helping me. I settle on option three. The storm is holding us captive. Our time together doesn't have to be miserable.

I climb out of bed and remind myself that I am a strong-willed woman with rock-solid control over my emotions. And I can one thousand percent remain in the friend zone with Cade Wylie.

When I turn on the shower, the image of Cade's blinding white smile from last night makes my knees wobble, my heart flutter, and my brain grinds to a halt.

"Oh, my God." I slap my hand over my mouth.

With vivid clarity, I understand… I'm not in control.

I'm in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

I'm turning smoked apple thick-cut bacon strips when the door at the back of the kitchen opens. Cade freezes in the doorway.

"Are you cooking?"

The disbelief in his voice is irritating. "Don't look so surprised." I turn off the burner.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, duchess." He takes off his coat and hangs it on a hook. "But I don't see you as the domestic type."

"I made the salad last night." I huff.

"Chopping vegetables isn't the same as cooking."

A few minutes ago, I was terrified I might make a horrible mistake and sleep with Cade Wylie. Now I'm worried I might toss the pan of bacon grease at his face. "You're a caveman."

I open the oven to take out a tray of muffins.

"Are those muffins?"

"No, they're rocks." I lift the lid off the pan of eggs. "And these aren't eggs, either." I shoot him a glare. "In case you were wondering."

He stares at me for a heartbeat, then yanks his coat off the hook. "I'll be right back." I suck in a breath watching him leave. There's something wrong with him. Desperately wrong.

Suddenly, the door flies open.

"Mmmmm…" He walks into the kitchen, flashing one of his killer smiles. "Something smells divine." He takes off his coat and hangs it on a hook.

"What are you doing?" I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel and toss it over my shoulder.

"Starting over, duchess." He saunters over and smells the muffins. "Banana. My favorite."

I hold my hand over my chest as my heart decides to do summersaults.

"Was that better?" He takes a step toward me.

It's hard not to stare at the way the navy-blue thermal stretches across his wide chest or how his hazel eyes twinkle with mischief. A rush of heat flashes up my neck and straight to my face. "Yes. Much better." I whip around and fumble with the coffee pot. I struggle to catch my breath. This man is going to kill me.

"Do you want coffee?" I scurry to the opposite side of the kitchen to grab some mugs.

"Yes, I would. It's cold out there." He rubs his hands together before sitting on a stool.

"Were you shoveling?" I set a mug down in front of him. "Eat while it's hot."

He snags a piece of bacon. "Went out to check on the generator and set out some blocks for the deer."

"You fed the deer?" I blink.

He inhales the bacon, grabs a muffin to slather it with butter, and then decides to torture me with another one of his smiles. I have to get out of here.

"During storms like this, it's hard for the deer to find food. I try to do what I can to help." He scoops some eggs onto his plate. "Even though I'm a caveman."

I close my eyes, take another deep breath, and through gritted teeth, I say, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you that."

"No apology needed, duchess. I know better than to judge a book by its cover." He drops a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee.

"What does that mean?" I snap my eyebrows down tight.

"I judged you unfairly, which is exactly what you did with me." He tears a hunk of muffin off. "This is delicious."

I glance at the butter knife, wondering if I can use it to carve out his liver.

Is this man insane?

I outright apologized. I made him a thank-you breakfast for rescuing me, and he's taking another jab at me.

His jaw stops working. "What did I do now?" he mumbles as he eats a banana muffin.

"You're taking another shot at me."

"No." He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "That's not it at all, duchess. I'm just stating the facts. You misjudged me because I'm a hockey player, and I did exactly the same thing. I stereotyped you. And I'm sorry about that."

He's serious.

My heart pounds. He stares at me with such intensity… such softness… I can't think.

"These really are good." He grins. "Thank you."

I release the death grip on my butter knife. "You're welcome."

"Here…" He holds up the plate of eggs. You have to taste these. They're excellent."

I don't want to smile —I truly don't— but I can't help it. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely." He plops a muffin on my plate. "And you're going to die when you taste the muffin. It's better than the ones you get in a fancy bakery."

I can't believe I'm blushing again. "Thanks."

"So, tell me, what brings you to Thunder Ridge?"

I chew my eggs, trying to decide what to tell him. I haven't told a soul about my plans, mostly because I'm not interested in hearing that my dream won't work or that I am incapable of putting it together.

"I'm not going to judge you." His voice is gentle.

I take a drink of orange juice, gob smacked that he can read my mind. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"Easy." He pushes his plate away, folds his hands on the countertop, and leans forward. "I pay attention to what matters to me."

A swarm of butterflies rushes through my chest. My hands start to shake. I feel like I'm sixteen all over again. Nervous, scared, and excited all rolled into one, I stare at my plate.

Cade reaches over to tip my chin up. "I am your friend, duchess. You can trust me."

"I'm buying land," I blurt.

"In Thunder Ridge?" He sits back. "That's great news. We'll be neighbors."

"I really like this town. It's beautiful, and the people are honest and hardworking. It's the perfect place to live."

"You won't miss the big city?"

"No."

"How much land are you looking at?"

"A thousand acres, to be exact."

"What are you going to do with all that land, duchess?"

"I'm going to build myself a home." I take a deep breath. "And I'm going to build a ski resort."

"Ambitious." He grins. "I'm not surprised."

"You think I can do it?"

He gets up from the table and takes our dishes to the sink. "I think you can do anything you put your mind to."

"You do?" I whisper.

"I do." He brings over the coffee pot to refill my cup. "Except for one thing…"

I knew it.

"You can't drive in the snow."

He walks away, chuckling, and I burst out laughing because he's right. I can't drive in the snow. I laugh until there are tears running down my cheeks and my sides ache. I laugh until I realize Cade's staring at me.

"What?" I ask.

"You're even more beautiful when you laugh." His gaze drifts down to my lips, then quickly shifts back up again.

Tingles swim under my skin. He thinks I'm beautiful.

"I'm going to do the dishes while you finish your coffee. Then, if you're up to it, I could use some help with the Christmas decorations."

"I'd like that." I smile. "But you need to know I've never decorated a tree in my life."

"Me either." He smiles back.

He gets down to business, cleaning up the kitchen while I sip my coffee and watch. With every move, his muscles flex and bunch. He starts whistling "The Twelve Days of Christmas," and I realize I'm not in trouble… I'm in quicksand.

And if I'm not careful…

I'm going to drown.