“Are you cold?”
I was already wrapped in layers upon layers, yet he still tried to drape a scarf over me.
I dodged away.
Behind me, he chuckled.
“Why do you look like a little bear?”
I kept quiet.
My breath curled into the air, forming a misty cloud.
We were staying at a lodge at the foot of Mount Taken, a place clearly designed for the wealthy. Everything was top–tier, down to
the smallest amenities.
It was the off–season for tourism, but I still ran into a couple of fellow travelers from home.
“Where do you want to go tomorrow?”
He spread butter onto his toast with precise, effortless strokes.
Whenever I did it, it came out crooked and uneven.
Watching him, though, was strangely pleasing.
With a sigh, he swapped my messy toast for the one on his plate.
The lodge had a hunting dog–big and intimidating at first glance, but after a few days, I realized it was just a fool who wagged its tail for food.
So, I took the piece of toast Ethan had just prepared for me and tossed it to the dog.
He clearly hadn’t expected that.
Under the table, his leg nudged mine, and he let out an exasperated laugh.
“I don’t remember pissing you off, Alice.”
1 ignored him.
Outside, the snowstorm had eased since last night’s raging winds.
Thick layers of snow piled up in the courtyard, deep enough to swallow a person’s knees.
Several tourists were outside playing in the soft white drifts.
Chapter 13
