A Christmas Storm by Elle Harte

Author:Elle Harte [Harte, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

The Storm Outside

I walked up the stairs to my house.

Empty.

Was I expecting it not to be?

I took a deep breath and turned the key.

“Can we talk?”

No.

Please tell me I was hearing things!

My hands started to shake and by that time I could feel him walking up the stairs and standing right next to me. I concentrated on opening the lock and it finally happened but it was too late to ignore Callum.

“What?” I breathed out, barely interested in anything he was about to say. But before he could respond, something in the air cut him off. There was a strange noise, like the patter of rain on roofs but louder, much louder.

“Get inside!” Callum yelled, and basically hauled me in, and closed the door after us. When the door was shut, I felt a little safer. Callum still had his hand on my waist. He realized this and broke off. “What were you doing out? Didn’t you hear the warnings?”

“What warnings?”

“The storm,” he explained. “Don’t you watch the news?”

“Not really,” I said, taking off my coat and placing it on the coat rack in the foyer. Callum rushed in ahead of me and went to the living room TV, turned it on. The news started blasting predictions of terrible weather.

“Everyone’s snowed in,” he said. “You seriously knew nothing about this?”

I shrugged.

“What kind of adult doesn’t watch the news?”

“The kind who wants to stay away from panic attacks.”

He rolled his eyes and set down the remote. They were talking about how the storm was supposed to last at least twenty-four hours. Great. Twenty-four hours with this douchebag in my home? That’s not going to be awkward at all. I frowned and he noticed. “I’m not looking forward to it either. Trust me.”

“What were you doing here anyway?”

“I wanted to check on you idiot,” he said. “I know about your aversion to staying informed.”

“Your house is a couple of blocks away!”

“There’s a hailstorm outside!”

Fine. I could suck it up for twenty-four hours, right?

Callum took off his scarf, and tossed it aside along with his jacket. His shirt sat over that chest, sleek and muscular, it looked like he has been working out. His arms popped from underneath that shirt. That tiny bit of collarbone showing, God, why does he leave so many buttons open? Yep. Twenty-four hours. It was going to be a piece of cake. Walk in the park. I got this, okay. Twenty…four…hours. I took a lock of my hair and started fidgeting.

“Stop that, it’s annoying,” Callum said, and started taking off his shoes. He propped his feet up on the couch, of whose end I was barely hanging on to. He found a pack of peanuts on the table and started munching on them. His jaws were going chew chew chew…his feet were on my couch, mine… and I couldn’t stand that collarbone! Or that anchorperson going on and on about hailstorms… I couldn’t take it anymore! I got up from the couch, angry beyond belief and took hurried steps to the bedroom.

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