Page 38 of Snowed In with Benefits

“There, you see?” Hunter says to Josie. Apparently I just won an argument for him.

She gives me a dubious look. I don’t know if she’s questioning the worthiness of the pastime, or if she’s just unsure about me. If it’s the latter, then likewise.

We finish up dinner. Beau starts washing dishes.

“I’m lighting the fire,” Hunter declares. He grabs the bottle of whiskey and heads for the living room, not bothering to grab glasses. That gives me pause. We’re used to swapping the bottle back and forth between the three of us, but how will the girl react to that level of anti-culture?

Whatever. Not my problem. I wipe down the table, counter, and stove, and leave Beau to finish the dishes. We all do our part.

Hunter’s already got the fire going. Beau and Josie follow shortly after me, Beau wiping his wet hands on his shirt, Josie looking uncomfortable and out of place.

She glances at Beau. “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to invade your… bedroom, for lack of a better word. I mean, since you’re sleeping down here and all.”

Beau chuckles. It’s weird to see him chuckle as often as he has been lately. He almost has a smile on his face.

“It’s fine,” he says, and his voice sounds almost reassuring. What is she doing to all of us? Beau isn’t as antisocial as I am. Never has been. He’s just been more closed off since… well, since that whole thing went down. Now he’s practically smiling at a woman in our house.

Hunter sits on one end of the big couch and offers the middle seat to Josie. She takes it. Beau stretches out on the little couch, leaving one spot for me. I settle myself down next to her, trying to take up as little space as possible.

Hunter takes a swig of whiskey and passes her the bottle. She doesn’t even flinch. Maybe she’s not as caught up in social decorum as I thought she was. She takes a swig, a little too big, and hands the bottle to me as she coughs.

“Careful,” Hunter says with a grin. “The burn is good, but the burn is still a burn.”

“Thanks,” she croaks.

I drink and pass the bottle to Beau. It’s quiet and almost comfortable. Hunter has his arm stretched along the back of the couch. Looks cozy. I’d do the same, but I don’t think she wants me that close to her.

“I’ll be right back,” she says as the bottle starts to make its rounds again.

My eyes follow her up the stairs of their own accord. What’s she doing up there? Why do I care? Hunter passes me the bottle and I take a hearty gulp. She’s driving me crazy, moment by moment, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

She comes back downstairs with her laptop and camera and takes her spot back. She’s warm next to me, and doesn’t seem to be putting any extra distance between us. Of course, if she did, she’d practically be cuddling with Hunter.

We need more seating.

“What’cha doing?” Hunter asks. I almost resent that he can just ask outright like that.

“Editing some pictures. It’s relaxing.” She connects the camera to the computer and all at once the screen is full of color.

It’s a cardinal on a branch. A normal thing to see. But, somehow, it looks brand new, as if I’ve never seen a bird on a branch before and she’s just introducing me to the concept. The bird is a brilliant red, its little eye looking back at me like it can see into my soul. The snow glitters, actually glitters, caught in a moment in time.

It was taken through Beau’s bedroom window. I can tell because I know that tree, but I’ve never seen it like this before. Like it was grown specifically to hold that exact bird in that exact moment with that exact amount of glittering snow clinging to it. The whole picture carries a sense of purpose.

“How did you see that?” I ask her clumsily. That’s not what I mean. No, it’s exactly what I mean, it just isn’t what I meant to say.

She looks at me, surprised, like she can’t believe I’m actually asking. “I looked,” she says simply.

See, this is why I think before I speak.

“That’s not what I mean. How did you know to catch that bird in that position?”

She smiles and it’s brighter than the cardinal. “Luck, mostly. But also I’ve been waiting for something to land on that branch. The composition of it is just beautiful. Look, I took one without a bird on it. Let me find it.”

She clicks through a few other photos. An icicle that captured a rainbow. A cobweb catching the light, draped over an interesting knot in the wood. I would have wiped that away without ever seeing it. How does she see things like this?

“Here, see?”

I see. The branch is somehow beautiful, but it looks like it’s waiting for something. It was waiting for that bird.