Winter Inferno

Two

After reading my brother the Riot Act for forcing me into a blizzard, I gave him a huge hug and told him how much I'd missed him. Then I took a long and very hot bath. Brody, sucking up to me, had brought me my own bottle of wine to drink while I bathed, and it was long gone. It was late and I couldn't hear any noises from downstairs anymore. So I was guessing everyone had turned in for the night, which was why I felt it was safe to venture downstairs wearing nothing more than a T-shirt, panties, and fuzzy slippers. At the last minute, I wrapped a blanket around myself.

I tiptoed down the stairs and looked around until I found the kitchen. I turned on the light and held my breath, hoping the light wouldn't disturb anyone. When nobody appeared right away, I headed for the refrigerator and bent to survey my options. The fridge was fully stocked, which my grumbling stomach was very thankful for.

"Like a thief in the night..."

I gasped, whirling around, and accidentally dropped my blanket. Mr. Flannel GQ stood, leaning against the door jam. He held a whiskey glass, loosely in one hand, but that isn't what held me captive. His flannel shirt was now unbuttoned and I could see some perfectly defined abs. His chest was lightly dusted with hair and...holy shit his jeans were unbuttoned.

He pushed off the wall and started toward me. I backed up a step, warning him, "I'll scream."

He paused and smirked, "I hope so."

That made me frown. He was so cocky. It was disgusting. It was...ok so he was sexy as sin. The problem was he knew it. He kicked my blanket out of the way and then next thing I knew, he picked me up and plopped me down on the counter. That was twice now that he'd picked me up as if I weighed nothing. I was average height, with a fair amount of tits and ass, so I was no light weight.

"Sit your pretty ass down and I'll make you a sandwich."

I glared, "You can't just keep manhandling me."

"You think that was me manhandling you? Trust me, when I manhandle you, you'll know it." He said, chuckling, as he pulled sandwich ingredients from the fridge. He seemed so sure of himself, he actually struck me speechless for a moment. He'd said "when" he manhandled me, not "if". So damned cocky. I shivered and not from the cold.

"You're pretty full of yourself aren't you?" I huffed, trying to bury my wayward feelings. I'd never reacted so strongly toward anyone before.

"I could make some wise crack, saying something like you could be full of me too in a minute, but I'd like to think I've matured."

I sucked in a breath. He did not just say that to me! "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Cale McGregor and you're Brandy Gaines, temporarily here for your brother's wedding, but currently residing in Florida. Spoiled little sister of the groom-to-be, who also happens to be my best friend."

I blinked, "You're not Cale. Brody has told me about Cale and you're nothing like him."

He laughed, "Oh and what is Cale really like?"

"He's nice. He'd be the type to help little old ladies cross the street. He's not the type who would blatantly hit on his best friend's sister and I am not spoiled."

"Right." He snorted, otherwise ignoring everything I said while he put together a sandwich. When satisfied he handed it to me on a plate. I stared at it, without taking it. He sighed, sounding exasperated, "What's wrong now?"

"Why did you make me a sandwich? If you think I'll sleep with you out of gratitude or something..."

"Jesus. Trust issues, much? I just didn't figure you, being a spoiled princess and all, would even know how to make a sandwich. I was trying to be nice."

"Why do you think I'm spoiled? I'm not, you know. I've been on my own since I turned eighteen, when my mother kicked me out. I lived in a homeless shelter for a little while, until I could find a part time job and could make enough to afford a rundown apartment. I put myself through college and have earned everything I have. So I like nice things? It's because for a long time I couldn't afford them. So the next time you decide to judge someone you don't even know, maybe think twice."

He frowned, "Brody made it sound like-"

I sighed, cutting him off, "Brody doesn't know and please don't tell him. He was already living out here and he was happy. I wasn't going to upset that. I don't know why I even told you all of that. It was stupid and pointless."

"Brandy-"

"Don't. I don't need your pity. Look, thanks for the sandwich." I told him, picked up the plate as I hopped down, and then I made my escape.

I ate my sandwich, in my room. Not because I was hungry, at that point, but because I knew I needed to eat something to soak up some of the wine. When finished I climbed into bed, but couldn't sleep. Bringing up my mother, always got me riled up.

Unfortunately I looked like her. Almost identical to her when she was my age actually. I'd thought about dying my shoulder length, thick auburn hair, so I wouldn't look so much like her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. People paid good money for my natural hair color. My blue eyes and generous feminine curves, I got from her too. She was quite a bit shorter than me though, so I must have gotten my height from my father, whom I never knew. He ran out on us right after I was born. Brody, being two years older than me didn't remember him either.

With an irritated huff, I flopped over and punched my pillow, trying to get comfortable and clear my head. Finally thoughts of my crappy parents fled and I started to settle. Unfortunately, thoughts of Cale McGregor took up residence in my mind instead. Fortunately, and more than a little disturbing, thoughts of him actually calmed me. A pair of piercing dark eyes was the last thing I remembered before sleep finally claimed me.