3. Vivienne

3

VIVIENNE

T he moment Vivienne crossed the threshold of Alex’s cabin, she knew she was in trouble.

The transition from bitter cold to sudden warmth hit her like a brick wall, stinging her frozen cheeks. Melted snow dripped from her cashmere sweater dress onto the wooden floor, each drop a reminder of how utterly unprepared she was for this situation. Her feet, numb in her ruined leather boots, screamed back to life with painful tingles.

Alex's cabin was a single room—rustic, cramped, and wholly unremarkable. Weathered logs made up the walls, their uneven surfaces absorbing what little light filtered through the storm-dimmed windows. A wood-burning stove dominated one corner, radiating heat that fought against the drafts sneaking through the cabin's seams. The scent of woodsmoke clung to everything: the mismatched furniture, the worn curtains, even the air itself.

Vivienne froze in the entryway, clutching her luggage like a lifeline. Somewhere in her bags was a cream silk pajama set she'd packed for lounging in front of a beautiful gas fireplace as she sipped champagne. The reality of her new situation settled over her like a lead weight. This couldn't be the place. Surely, there was another door somewhere, one that led to something more civilized.

Alex glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. Snowmelt darkened her jacket, but she seemed unbothered by the wet or cold. "You coming in or planning to freeze out there?"

"I—yes, of course," Vivienne stammered, stepping fully inside. The door shut behind her with a thunk that felt disturbingly final, cutting off the howl of the wind. The cabin, for all its faults, was warm, but it felt stifling. Claustrophobic. The walls seemed to press in, and she fought the urge to fling the windows open and let the cold rush in, just to escape the overwhelming earthiness of it all.

Her gaze darted around, cataloging everything the space lacked. No thermostat. No state-of-the-art appliances or pristine surfaces. And, worst of all, no router or any sign of Wi-Fi. Her perfectly manicured nails, one broken from her earlier ordeal in the storm, clicked against her phone screen as she tapped it instinctively, as if sheer determination might summon a signal.

Alex dropped her bag near the stove with a wet thud, shaking the snow from her coat. Water droplets scattered across the floor, adding to the growing puddle around Vivienne's feet. "Don't bother. There's no service out here."

"I wasn't—" Vivienne began, but the three little bars refusing to appear on her screen betrayed her. She snapped the phone shut with a frustrated huff, the sound echoing in the too-small space.

“Right." Alex's lips quirked in what might've been a smirk, though it vanished as she turned to stack firewood next to the stove. Each log landed with a solid thunk that made Vivienne wince .

Vivienne turned her attention to the room again, willing herself to find something redeeming. A pile of books sat on a low table near a threadbare armchair, their spines worn and titles faded. A single mug rested on the kitchen counter, a faint ring marking its base. Tools hung neatly on the wall—an array of hammers, saws, and other implements she couldn't name but which, apparently, Alex found necessary. The whole place felt too primitive, too practical. No sense of real style.

Her designer sweater dress, damp from the snow, clung uncomfortably to her skin. She shifted, trying to find a position where the wet fabric didn't touch her, but it was impossible. The room's warmth only seemed to highlight how out of place she felt.

"I see you're not a fan of modern conveniences," Vivienne said, her voice sharper than intended. A draft whistled through some unseen crack, making her shiver despite the stove's heat.

Alex shrugged, not looking up from the firewood. The flames cast shadows across her face, highlighting the strong line of her jaw. Vivienne noticed how strikingly attractive Alex might be… in another world, of course. “I don't need much."

Vivienne bristled at the implication. "Well, clearly."

The sarcasm slid off Alex like melted snow, and she moved with an ease that grated on Vivienne—practical, steady, and wholly indifferent to the storm outside or the chaos brewing inside Vivienne's mind. The sound of her boots on the wooden floor was sure, confident, a stark contrast to Vivienne's own unsteady footing.

Desperate for a sense of control, Vivienne crossed the one-room cabin to the books and straightened them into a neat pile, her fingers leaving damp prints on their worn covers. Then she adjusted the throw blanket draped over the armchair, smoothing its edges. It was handmade, she realized, the stitches irregular but sturdy. Nothing like the cashmere throws that adorned her own furniture back home. It was a small act, but it felt like reclaiming a piece of herself.

"Didn't know you were an interior designer," Alex said, her tone unreadable.

Vivienne ignored her. The neatly arranged books gave her some satisfaction, though it was short-lived. She glanced back at Alex, who was now crouched by the stove, coaxing a flame to life with maddening efficiency. The fire's glow softened her features, catching the hints of gold in her hair.

She found herself studying her rescuer despite herself. The way Alex's hands moved, sure and deliberate, as if every action served a purpose. The faint furrow in her brow, the flash of firelight catching in her dark eyes. There was an unshakable steadiness to her, a calm that should have been reassuring but only fueled Vivienne's irritation.

"Do you even have central heating?" she asked, the question escaping before she could stop it. Her toes curled in her wet boots, seeking warmth that wasn't there.

Alex glanced up, one eyebrow arching. A spark from the fire cast her face in momentary light. "That's what the stove's for."

"Right," Vivienne muttered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Another shiver ran through her, this one hard enough to make her teeth chatter.

The room suddenly felt smaller, and the absence of Wi-Fi loomed large in her mind. She fumbled with her phone again, stepping toward the nearest window in a desperate attempt to find a signal. The screen remained blank, reflecting only her own frustrated expression.

Frost patterns decorated the window's edges, delicate whorls that might have been beautiful in any other circumstance. Vivienne climbed onto the chair by the window, angling her phone upward. Her wet shoes slipped slightly on the worn upholstery, and her balance, already precarious, wavered.

"Careful," Alex said sharply as Vivienne wobbled, one hand shooting out to steady herself.

"I've got it," Vivienne snapped, but she didn't—not entirely. Her grip faltered, and Alex's hand closed around her arm just as she started to slip.

The touch was brief, firm, and surprisingly warm through the damp fabric of her sleeve.

"You okay?" Alex asked, her voice low but not unkind.

"Yes," Vivienne said quickly, jerking her arm away. The chair steadied beneath her, but her heart raced—and not because she almost fell. The warmth of Alex's touch lingered, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled into her bones.

Alex paused for a moment before stepping back. "If you're done climbing furniture, maybe you should settle in. Storm's not letting up anytime soon."

Vivienne glared at her, but the sting of her own helplessness dulled the silent retort that died on her tongue. She stepped off the chair, her phone clutched tightly in her hand like a shield.

"Fine," she said, though nothing about this situation was fine. Not the storm. Not the cabin. And certainly not Alex Carter. Not the way the room's warmth was slowly seeping into her frozen limbs, making her increasingly aware of every point of contact between her wet clothes and sensitive skin.

The storm howled outside, a reminder that she was well and truly trapped.

This was definitely not the Christmas escape she'd planned.

The shadows in the cabin grew longer as the storm raged on, darkness creeping in despite the warm glow from the woodstove. Vivienne sat stiffly in the armchair, her phone clenched in both hands. The faint tick of the wood-burning stove punctuated the silence, though it did nothing to drown out the rush of blood pounding in her ears. She jabbed at the phone's screen again, willing even a single bar of signal to appear.

Vivienne's chest tightened. "You're kidding."

Alex didn't answer. The click of metal against metal as she shut the damper was maddeningly casual, as though this were all perfectly normal. As though being cut off from civilization was just another Tuesday.

"Unbelievable," Vivienne muttered. She turned her attention back to the window and tugged it open an inch, icy wind stinging her hands and face. Leaning out, she held her phone up, her breath fogging in the bitter cold. The wind whipped strands of hair free from her carefully maintained style, another small indignity in a day full of them.

"Stop," Alex said sharply, her boots thudding against the floor as she approached. "You're letting the heat out."

Vivienne ignored her, craning her neck to see if the storm had cleared enough to reveal some distant tower. Snow lashed at her face, and the phone slipped slightly in her numb fingers. The metallic taste of panic rose in her throat; the device in her hand was her last connection to her real life, to the world she understood.

Alex's hand shot out, gripping Vivienne's arm. "Get inside," she said firmly, pulling her back.

The sudden touch sent warmth spreading through Vivienne's chilled skin, an unwelcome reminder of their earlier contact.

She liked Alex’s hand on her. Even though she would rather die than admit it.

Vivienne stumbled, the window slamming shut behind her. "I was fine!"

"Sure you were." Alex crossed her arms, and Vivienne noticed how the gesture emphasized the strength in her shoulders. "Fine enough to drop your phone into the snow, maybe. What exactly were you hoping to accomplish?"

"I don't know. Something!" Vivienne snapped. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "Unlike you, I can't just sit here like this doesn't matter."

"Because it doesn't," Alex shot back, her voice rising for the first time. "You're not going anywhere in this storm. That's the reality, whether you like it or not."

"Oh, I don't like it, thank you for noticing." Vivienne's voice dripped with venom. “Well, what did you expect, driving up the mountain in the middle of a snowstorm in that useless SUV? Room service to follow you up? Newsflash: You’re lucky I even came along. Not even roadside assistance comes up this far.”

Vivienne's face burned, but she refused to back down. "What I expected," she said coldly, "was not to be stranded with someone who thinks a wood stove counts as adequate heating."

Alex shook her head, the muscles in her jaw tightening. "You really don't get it, do you? This isn't some vacation where you can control every detail like ordering something off a menu. The storm doesn't care about your schedule, and it sure as hell doesn't care about your complaints."

"I am not complaining," Vivienne said, though her voice cracked slightly. "I'm just pointing out that this"—she gestured wildly to the room—"is unacceptable."

Alex's expression darkened. "What's unacceptable is your attitude." She turned abruptly, crossing to a corner of the cabin where a small shelf held a handful of supplies. Reaching for a black emergency radio, she held it up. "Here," she said. "Knock yourself out. Maybe the NOAA will take pity on you."

Vivienne stepped forward, snatching at the radio. "Give me that."

"No." Alex held it just out of reach, her voice dropping into a warning tone that sent heat curling in Vivienne's stomach. "It doesn't work right now. The storm's blocking the signal."

"Then why even have it?" Vivienne demanded, tugging harder.

"For when the storm passes," Alex growled, her grip tightening.

They struggled briefly, the small device suspended between them like a lifeline neither was willing to relinquish. Behind them, the fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the walls, and Vivienne was suddenly aware of how close they were standing.

Then it happened.

Vivienne's fingers brushed against Alex's hand, their skin colliding in a flash of warmth. For a moment, neither moved, and the cabin itself seemed to hold its breath.

The tension in the room shifted, sharp and electric. Vivienne's breath caught, her gaze flickering to Alex's, but the intensity there made her pull back immediately. She couldn't name the emotion she saw in those dark eyes, wasn't sure she wanted to.

The radio slipped from her grip, and Alex deftly caught it, setting it back on the shelf. She didn't look at Vivienne, but a faint flush colored her cheeks.

"Don't touch it again," Alex said quietly.

Vivienne swallowed hard, the heat from that brief contact lingering on her skin. Her frustration, her panic, all of it churned inside her, but it was something else entirely that made her feel like the floor beneath her was unsteady.

She turned away abruptly, her voice clipped. "Fine. Keep your stupid radio. "

Alex said nothing, her silence more unnerving than any retort.

Vivienne retreated to the chair by the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She stared out into the storm, but the snow blurred before her eyes. She told herself it was the biting cold that had reddened her cheeks, nothing more.

The howl of the storm seemed louder now, as if the wind was intent on battering the cabin into submission. The last remnants of daylight had faded, leaving them in a bubble of warmth surrounded by darkness. Vivienne sat rigid in the armchair again, the tension from her earlier clash with Alex still hung in the air, thick as the smoke curling from the stove.

Alex glanced up from the small radio she'd been fiddling with, her expression calm but serious. A streak of soot marked her cheek, and Vivienne fought the urge to tell her about it.

"It's not letting up. If anything, the storm is getting worse."

Vivienne's stomach sank, though she kept her expression neutral. "How much worse?"

"Bad enough that we're not going anywhere for at least a day or two," Alex said, setting the radio down on the table. The soft thud felt like a death sentence. "Probably longer."

Vivienne stared at her, a flicker of unease breaking through her icy demeanor. "You're certain?" She noticed Alex’s eyes drift down over her body before rising again and the feeling of being watched by her was an unwanted turn on.

Alex met her gaze evenly. "Positive."

The words hit harder than Vivienne expected, like the final nail in a coffin. She turned away, staring out at the white chaos beyond the window. The storm was unrelenting, determined to keep her here in this too-small space with this too-intriguing woman.

"So that's it," she said softly, more to herself than to Alex. "I'm just...stuck here."

Alex's voice was quiet but firm. "For now, yes. And fighting it won't change anything."

Vivienne swallowed hard, the weight of her circumstances pressing down on her. She wasn't used to feeling powerless. It didn't suit her.

Alex moved to the small kitchenette, the clatter of a pot and utensils breaking the heavy silence. "I'm making dinner. You can join me or not. It's up to you."

Vivienne bristled at the casual dismissal. She rose from the chair, smoothing the wrinkles in her sweater. "Of course I'll help. I'm not useless."

Alex raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, simply nodding toward a small stack of root vegetables on the counter. "Peel those then."

Vivienne stared at the paring knife Alex handed her as if it were an alien artifact. She picked it up gingerly and inspected the carrot in her other hand. The vegetable was fresh, she noted with surprise, not some canned approximation. "Peel it how?"

Alex let out a short, amused breath. "You've never peeled a carrot before?"

"I've never had to," Vivienne shot back, a defensive edge in her voice. "Some of us have people for things like this."

"Right," Alex said, shaking her head. "Well, consider this a crash course in self-sufficiency."

Vivienne glared at her but said nothing, focusing instead on the carrot. She slid the knife awkwardly along its surface, managing to gouge uneven strips off the vegetable. The domestic task felt foreign in her hands, like trying to speak a language she'd never learned.

Alex, chopping onions beside her, glanced over. "You're holding it wrong."

"I'm holding it just fine," Vivienne snapped, though she knew she wasn't.

"Sure," Alex replied dryly. "If you want to waste half the carrot."

Vivienne gritted her teeth, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "I don't see you offering any helpful advice."

Alex put down her knife and reached for Vivienne's hands. "Here," she said, her voice softer than Vivienne had heard it yet. "Like this."

Vivienne stiffened as Alex's fingers curled around hers, guiding her grip on the knife and carrot. The warmth of Alex's touch sent an unexpected jolt through her, and for a moment, the tension between them shifted into something else entirely. She looked up, meeting Alex's gaze.

Alex's dark eyes softened briefly before she pulled away, returning to her own task without another word. But something had changed in the air between them.

The meal, simple as it was, came together quickly. They sat across from each other at the small table, the flickering light from the woodstove casting shadows on the rough wooden walls. The stew was surprisingly good, though Vivienne would rather freeze than admit it.

"So, what's the plan now?" she asked, more to break the loaded silence than anything else.

"Survive the storm," Alex said matter-of-factly. "Keep the fire going, ration the food, wait it out."

Vivienne frowned. "That's it?"

"That's it," Alex confirmed.

The simplicity of the answer grated on Vivienne. She was used to plans, to action, to doing. Sitting still and waiting felt intolerable.

They fell into silence again, the only sound the scrape of Alex's spoon against her bowl and the constant howl of the wind. Outside, the storm showed no signs of weakening.

After dinner, Alex began organizing their supplies, stacking cans and folding blankets with deft efficiency. Vivienne watched from the table, her mind still turning over the events of the day. The cabin felt different in the darkness, smaller somehow, yet also safer than she wanted to acknowledge.

"Let me help," she said finally as she stood.

Alex hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. Grab those blankets."

Vivienne reached for them just as Alex did, and their hands touched.

Vivienne froze, her fingers brushing against Alex's calloused palm. Her breath caught as the warmth spread up her arm, mingling with a deep ache.

Alex seemed equally affected, her posture stiffening as she slowly drew her hand back. "Thanks," she said quietly, turning away.

Vivienne stood there for a moment, her pulse racing. She pressed her lips together, refusing to let the vulnerability show .

As Alex worked, Vivienne sank back into the chair by the window. She stared out at the storm, its fury unabated, and for the first time, she allowed herself to admit how helpless she felt. Not just about the storm or being stranded, but about the way her body seemed to react whenever Alex was near.

Her chest tightened, and she wrapped her arms around herself. The storm outside was unyielding, but the one inside her felt worse—a storm of fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to desire.

She glanced toward Alex, who was now tending the fire. The flickering light caught the strong lines of her face, the quiet competence in her movements. The same qualities that had irritated Vivienne earlier now seemed to draw her eye, much as she tried to resist.

Vivienne hated that she felt comforted by it.

Hated even more that she didn't hate it at all.