Page 57 of A Snowy Escape

“Do you like plain Alfredo or would you like chicken, steak, or both?” Bryant asks.

I peek over at Abby, and I’m surprised how dark it is outside. It looks more like it should be midnight, even though it’s only seven or seven-thirty. It always gets dark early in winter, but I’m a little thrown off. Maybe my circadian rhythm is out of whack, or maybe the impending storm is already making itself known.

“Maybe a little of both?” she says. “Wait, is that Caesar salad? I want to destroy that first. Can I have a little chicken to go on it? Then I’ll see if I still have room for more protein when I get to the carbs.”

I laugh, tossing my arm around the back of the booth. “A woman after my own heart. I think I’m going to go with that also.”

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Lawson offers.

Abby blinks.

She’s about to turn twenty-three, which I know from scanning her license for the hiring paperwork.

At that age, I’d never had a glass of wine. It was beer or hard liquor, but I was also enlisted by the time I was eighteen, so that could explain my lack of a refined palate.

Hell, I didn’t even know we had wine in the house.

Did that fucker buy wine just to impress Abby?

“Oh, no, thank you,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not big on wine. I would drink a beer.” She nods to mine. “That would work, but can I also have a glass for water?”

Damn, Bryant and I suck at setting the table. We brought the water pitcher but forgot to bring her a glass.

“You got it, sweetheart.” Lawson shoves himself out of the booth and makes his way into the kitchen.

Bryant piles Caesar salad onto Abby’s plate and forks a chicken breast, bringing it to his plate and cutting it into thin strips.

My arm is still around the back of the booth, and Abby scoots closer to my side.

“Mmm, your scent is really strong,” she says, plastering her nose to the side of my chest. “Smoky campfire with woodsy undertones.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her the smell of the grill probably enhanced my normal scent. Normally we would pan-fry the chicken and steaks during the winter, but I braved the cold to ensure it would be as flavorful as possible. Also, we have a covered back porch and a tower heater for a reason. I only had to step out of the warmth to start the grill and flip the meat.

“Thank you.” I pull my arm down, wrapping it around her shoulder. “You always smell delicious. Are you hungry?” I run my fingers through the ends of her hair, wondering how long it’s been since I was this close to a woman.

“Starving,” she says, her words coming out muffled by the material of my shirt.

It makes me smile, and even Bryant looks excited. It’s a very good sign if she’s this drawn to my scent. We’ve played it safe over the last week, but Mother Nature was on our side with this storm.

“Your salad is ready,” Bryant says, making me ache to punch him in the throat.

I was enjoying having Abby cuddled to my chest, but she pops up.

A bright smile crosses her face, and it’s hard to be angry with Bry, when I know she’s hungry.

“Damn, I guess I’m on my own to make my salad,” I say, chuckling.

“Yup,” Bryant agrees.

Lawson makes it back to the table, offering Abby her beer and filling her water glass before placing it down in front of her.

Here’s hoping she’s one of those omegas who really loves hovering alphas…

Otherwise, we’re pretty much screwed.

* * *

Christmas music plays through the speakers as we settle into the living room. It’s a fitting background for what comes next, and hopefully it helps solidify the holiday spirit.