Page 37 of Snowed In with Benefits

What is she doing now? Somebody’s cooking, I can smell it. Must be almost dinner time. What’s Hunter going to whip up today? There we go, that feels better. Being curious about something normal, about someone normal, feels better than being curious about photos or women… or woman. Singular. Just this one.

I clear the path all the way to the driveway. There’s already a dusting of snow all along the path again, making it look pristine. I bet she’d like this. I bet she’d take a picture of it. What would that picture look like? I tilt my head, crouch down to her level, and imagine that I’m holding a camera.

It’s just a path with snow on it.

Snorting at my own ridiculousness, I head back inside. As I’m stomping the snow off my boots, the smell of dinner grows stronger. Something Italian. That’s good. Nice and warm and full of carbs, whatever it is. I hang up my coat and kick off my boots, then stretch, wondering where Josie is right now.

Damn it. She’s here somewhere. Isn’t that all that matters?

Annoyed at myself, I head for the kitchen. Whatever’s cooking smells like it’s almost done. I can hear voices before I enter the room and something shifts in my chest. She’s in there, flirting with Hunter the way she does. That doesn’t bother me. Hunter’s a good man. What bothers me is something I can’t define yet.

I walk into the kitchen and freeze. Hunter is sitting at the table. Josie is the one at the stove. What is this?

She catches me looking and smiles that tentative smile at me, like she isn’t sure whether I’m going to kiss her or take her head off.

“I insisted on making dinner,” she explains. “I feel like it’s the least I can do to repay you guys for letting me stay here. Besides, you’ve got all these great ingredients to work with, it would be a shame not to use them. Don’t worry, I won’t burn anything. At least, I’ll try not to.”

She talks too much. It should annoy me. It doesn’t, and that annoys me. I give her a nod and sit at the table with Hunter.

“She’s a really good cook,” he tells me in a stage whisper.

“Am not. I can make food eatable, that’s about it.”

“Lies!” Hunter’s face breaks into a grin.

I grunt noncommittally. I haven’t tried her food, so I wouldn’t know. I guess I’ll be trying it tonight. It isn’t long before Beau comes in, called by the cooking.

“Spaghetti?” he asks, sniffing the air.

“Spaghetti,” she confirms. “It’s just about done, if you want to grab me some plates so I can serve you guys up.”

He moves without a word and gets down the plates. I guess he’s under her spell the same way Hunter is.

The same way I am.

I frown at the table. I don’t like the idea of being under anybody’s spell, let alone a woman who can soften Beau and breathe life into Hunter. That’s a kind of magic I don’t want anything to do with.

“Oh, this smells amazing!” Hunter breathes in the steam over his plate, letting his eyes roll back dramatically. He takes up a forkful and shoves it in his mouth, making all kinds of noises of appreciation. “And it tastes even better. Damn, Goldilocks, you’re good at this.”

I roll my eyes. It’s okay. It’s decent, hearty food. The meatballs are nice. But it’s nothing special, it’s no five-star restaurant or anything. Just normal kitchen food.

But she blushes and sits down, her eyes gleaming. “It’s not that good,” she protests.

“You’re right,” Hunter says. “It’s not that good. It’s fantastic.”

“Oh, stop.” She laughs lightly.

Her laughter doesn’t bother me. It’s a musical little sound, pleasing to the ear. I don’t have to fall all over myself to appreciate it like some people do. I give Hunter a hard look. Is he in love with her, or is he just enjoying having someone around to flirt with?

Conversation circles the table as I consider that thought fully. Hunter is the outgoing one, the one who likes people. The only people he sees on the regular are me and Beau. Maybe he needed this little invasion.

“Isn’t that right, Emmett?” Hunter looks at me expectantly.

“Mm?” I was not paying a lick of attention.

“Drinking by the fire is a worthy pastime, right?”

I nod. Of course it is. That’s how we unwind after long, cold days. It’s better than television and more comfortable than a games night or whatever else people do. You get the warmth of the whiskey, the warmth of the fire, and the warmth of companionship of people you actually like.