The mountain road twisted like a serpent, each curve sharper than the last, as Mia gunned her SUV up the incline. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, not from nerves—she didn’t do nerves—but from sheer irritation. She was Mia Harper, event planner extraordinaire, the woman who could orchestrate a gala for five hundred with her eyes closed and a martini in hand. And yet, here she was, driving through the ass-end of nowhere for a “strategic planning weekend” with a client who probably couldn’t strategize his way out of a paper bag. The things she did for a paycheck.
Snowflakes began to speckle her windshield, light at first, like a teasing whisper of winter. She flicked on the wipers with a sigh. “Great. Just what I need. A scenic detour through a snow globe.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, echoing in the empty car. The cabin was supposed to be her fortress of solitude—well, solitude plus one insufferable client—for the next forty-eight hours. She’d planned every detail: the agenda, the charcuterie board, even the brand of whiskey she’d pour to loosen the guy up. Mia didn’t just plan; she dominated.
When she pulled up to the rustic cabin, perched like a forgotten relic on the mountainside, the snow had thickened into a proper flurry. She stepped out, her heeled boots crunching into the fresh powder, and slung her designer bag over her shoulder. The air bit at her cheeks, but she smirked at it like a challenge. “Come at me, Mother Nature. I’ve handled worse than you at a bridal expo.”
Inside, the cabin was as advertised: cozy, if a bit dated, with wood-paneled walls and a stone fireplace that begged for a fire. She tossed her bag onto a plaid couch and checked her phone. A text from her client glowed on the screen. *Sorry, Mia. Emergency came up. Can’t make it. Reschedule?* Her jaw tightened. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, tossing the phone onto the counter. Stranded. Alone. In a blizzard that was now howling outside like a banshee. Perfect.
She was pacing, mentally recalibrating her weekend of wasted ambition, when a sharp knock rattled the door. Mia froze, her hazel eyes narrowing. “If that’s a bear, I’m charging it for trespassing,” she quipped to herself, striding over and yanking the door open.
Standing there, dusted with snow and looking like he’d stumbled out of a lumberjack catalog, was a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a scruffy jaw and a tool belt slung low on his hips. He blinked at her, clearly not expecting a woman in a tailored blazer and boots to answer. “Uh, hi. I’m Ethan. Property owner sent me to check the heating system. Said someone was staying up here.”
Mia crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that could cut glass. “Well, aren’t you just the snowflake whisperer, showing up in the middle of a storm. Did you sled down the mountain or just roll with the avalanche?”
Ethan’s ears turned pink, though whether from the cold or her barb, she couldn’t tell. He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, didn’t expect it to come down this fast. Figured I’d get in and out before it got bad.”
“Clearly, you’re a master of timing,” she shot back, stepping aside with a mock flourish. “Come in, then. Don’t just stand there letting all my nonexistent heat escape.”
He stomped the snow off his boots and stepped inside, his presence filling the small space more than she’d expected. She shut the door against the wind’s howl and turned to him, hands on hips. “So, Mr. Fix-It, you’re telling me you’re stuck here too? Because I’m looking out that window, and I don’t see a road anymore. Just a whole lot of white nothing.”
Ethan glanced outside, his brow furrowing as if he could will the snow to melt with sheer confusion. “Yeah… looks like we’re both snowed in. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Save it,” she interrupted, waving a hand. “You’re here now, so make yourself useful. We’ve got a blizzard to outlast, and I’m not freezing to death because the owner hired a handyman who can’t handle a little weather. Let’s secure this place before it turns into an igloo.”
Ethan blinked at her, clearly unused to being ordered around by a woman who looked like she could run a boardroom in stilettos. “Right. Uh, what do you need?”
“Start with that window over there,” she pointed to a rattling pane in the living room. “It’s letting in more draft than a bad first date. And I’ll check the supplies. Move, soldier.”
As they worked, Mia couldn’t resist needling him. She watched him fumble with a hammer, trying to nail a board over the window, and snorted. “Wow, Mr. Two Left Thumbs, did they teach you that in Handyman 101, or are you just naturally gifted at missing the nail?”
Ethan shot her a sheepish look, the hammer pausing mid-swing. “Hey, I’m better with pipes than boards, okay? Give me a break.”
“Oh, I’ll give you a break when you stop treating that hammer like it’s a foreign object,” she fired back, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Keep going. I’m enjoying the show.”
Their bickering continued as they dragged an old armoire in front of another drafty spot, their shoulders brushing in the tight space. Mia felt the heat of his arm through her sleeve and caught the way he stiffened, his breath catching. She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “What’s wrong, Ethan? Afraid of a little human contact, or just not used to a woman who doesn’t swoon at your tool belt?”
He coughed, stepping back as if the furniture had burned him. “I’m fine. Just… didn’t expect you to be so hands-on.”
“Sweetheart, I’m hands-on with everything,” she purred, her tone dripping with challenge. “Better get used to it.”
The heat, as it turned out, was another disaster. The ancient system sputtered like a dying engine, and Ethan’s attempt to fix it ended with him swearing under his breath and admitting defeat. Mia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms again. “Let me guess. You’re useless in a crisis too? Fantastic. I’m stuck with a handyman who can’t handle heat or hammers.”
“I’m trying, okay?” he muttered, wiping sweat—or maybe frustration—from his brow. “This thing’s older than my grandpa. I’ll figure it out.”
“Sure you will,” she drawled, already moving toward the fireplace. “In the meantime, let’s not freeze to death. Grab some wood from that pile and keep this fire going. I’m dragging out blankets. And don’t even think about slacking, or I’ll use you as kindling.”
They huddled near the crackling fire, the cabin growing darker as the storm raged outside. Mia tossed him an extra blanket, her grin wicked as she noticed him shivering. “Aw, poor thing. Not man enough to handle a little cold? Here, take this before you turn into an icicle. I’m not explaining a frozen handyman to the property owner.”
Ethan caught the blanket, his jaw tightening, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks. I think. You always this bossy, or am I just lucky?”
“Oh, honey, you’re lucky I’m even sharing my airspace,” she shot back, settling under her own blanket with the grace of a queen claiming her throne. “But since we’re stuck here, let’s make it interesting. Truth or dare. You in, or are you too scared to play with a big bad wolf like me?”
His eyes widened, but a spark of intrigue flared in them. “Fine. I’m in. Truth.”
Mia’s laugh was sharp and delighted. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that. Tell me about your worst romantic failure. And don’t skimp on the details. I need a good laugh.”
Ethan groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, fine. There was this girl in high school. I tried to impress her by sneaking into her dad’s barn to set up a picnic. Turns out, I’m allergic to hay. Ended up sneezing so hard I knocked over the lantern, started a small fire, and her dad chased me out with a pitchfork.”
Mia doubled over, her laughter echoing off the cabin walls. “Oh my god, you’re a walking disaster date. A pitchfork? I’m dying. You’re lucky I’m not her dad—I’d have skewered you for the sheer incompetence.”
“Laugh it up,” he grumbled, though his cheeks twitched with a grin. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” she said without hesitation, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Hit me with your best shot, Mr. Pitchfork.”
Ethan hesitated, then leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Alright. I dare you to share that blanket with me. It’s freezing over here, and you’ve got plenty to spare.”
Mia arched a brow, her smirk never faltering as she shifted closer, dragging the blanket over both of them. Their thighs pressed together, the heat of their bodies mingling under the wool as the firelight danced across their faces. She turned her head, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Careful, Ethan. You might not be able to handle my kind of heat.”
The tension crackled hotter than the fire, and as the blizzard howled outside, Mia knew the real storm was just beginning.
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