#mearcats

Lucy peered outside the cabin window. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“The radio said six inches, at least,” Flynn called from the kitchen.

…crap.

The only reason–the only reason–she was up on this godforsaken mountain in the middle of nowhere was that Grandpa Ethan had gifted it to her in his will. He’d been the only member of her biological father’s creepy, awful family that she’d liked. He’d made the holidays after Dad had passed and Mom had insisted Lucy get to know her ‘real’ family bearable.

From now on, she was going back to spending Christmas with the Wallaces–her adoptive dad’s brother and his wife and kids–and Amy. And Mom could just put that in her pipe and smoke it.

But it was a couple weeks before Christmas and she’d been stressed as all get out with grading papers before the holidays, and so Amy had suggested that she go and check out the cabin that Ethan had left her.

“You need a break,” she’d said. “You can fly out, take a couple weeks of relaxation by yourself, then fly back to see us for Christmas.”

But what if the snow wasn’t melted enough in a few days when her flight left? What if she couldn’t get to her family in time for Christmas? She wanted to see her cousins, see Sarah’s new baby, ask Amy about this boy she’d been going on about. What if she missed it?

Of course, insult on top of injury, she was now stuck with Garcia Flynn.

Flynn lived a bit down the mountain and had, somehow, become friends with Ethan when he would retreat up here to paint or whatever it was. Lucy didn’t see how, since Flynn was the single grumpiest person she’d ever met. She’d hated asking him to come and help her fix her sink, but there was no one else around, and now…

Now it was looking like nuclear winter out there, and Lucy wasn’t about to make Flynn tramp through snow like this and possibly freeze to death. So she was stuck with him.

She turned away from the window to find Flynn leaning against the doorframe like Google Earth was taking pics, wiping his hands on a towel. “Well, silver lining, your sink’s all fixed.”

“Would you like some hot chocolate?” she blurted out. “As a thank you. For the sink. And because you’re stuck here.”

Flynn sauntered–the handsome idiot never walked anywhere, he sauntered–past her to the window. He whistled softly. “Wow. Yeah, that’s a doozy.”

“It looks like we’re the only two people on earth.” She’d never seen snow like this before.

“Oh no, guess we’ll just have to repopulate the earth then,” Flynn replied, giving her a lopsided smile.

Lucy felt her gut tighten and warm, and she had to look away. Moments like these she treasured more than she probably should have, those moments where Flynn was soft with her and teased her.

She just wished they weren’t inevitably followed by Flynn shutting down like a malfunctioning robot.

“Guess we’ll have to,” she said lightly. “Never took you for a family guy.”

Flynn coughed uncomfortably. “I… I was, once.”

Oh no. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t–”

“You didn’t know, it’s fine.” Flynn looked out at the snow. “We were driving in the snow, hit a patch of black ice. My wife was driving… I tried to get the wheel but we flipped. My daughter, Iris, where the–the impact hit her, she died instantly. Lorena… I tried, everything, but she, um, it only took a few minutes. They said I was lucky, just had a broken leg.” Flynn’s voice sounded like it was scraped from the back of his throat. “Lucky.”

“Garcia.” She’d never used his first name before, but it felt appropriate. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He glanced down at her hand, and for a moment she thought he’d remove it, but then he… he put his hand over hers. He went back to looking out at the snow. “It’s not your fault. It was two years ago now. Ethan was really good to me, during that time. Told me about a boyfriend of his, back in the ‘50s. When the guy died of lung cancer–chain smoker, apparently–Ethan couldn’t go to the funeral. He knew he’d give himself away, crying too much, and they were just supposed to be work colleagues.”

“He–he never told me.”

“He told me about you. I think he… he didn’t want to burden you. Said you made everything else worth it.”

Lucy’s eyes stung. She knew her grandfather had loved her, but it both soothed and hurt her to be reminded of it, now that he was gone. Flynn saw her wiping her eyes and made a noise of dismay. “Now I’m the one who has to say I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s good.” She laughed a little. “I’m glad he had a friend like you. I’d… I’d like to be friends, too. If you want.”

Flynn looked at her with such softness, this besotted smile on his face, that her breath caught. “Lucy. You think that’s why I’m here? Because I owed your grandfather something? Some sense of obligation?”

“I mean… we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

“You showed up without a proper winter coat, what was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not lecture me about it while grumbling about how I was going to die from idiocy?”

“I’m here because I like you,” Flynn blurted out. He dropped his hand and looked down at the ground, like he couldn’t bear to say this while looking at her. “I really. Like you.”

Lucy stared at him, at his long lashes and dark eyes, at his strong jaw, the hint of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the soft, slightly flopping hair. She’d known from the start that Flynn was handsome. Had, perhaps, had a few late-night thoughts about getting him to shut up in very creative, naked ways. But she’d never dared to think…

“So when you said we should ‘repopulate’,” she said, taking a small step closer and sliding her hand up his arm to cup his jaw, “you were serious?”

“I mean, not about the–I assume you have some kind of, ah, protection, I didn’t–” Flynn looked up and saw that she was trying to hold in laughter. He rolled his eyes. “I’m just digging a bigger hole for myself, aren’t I?”

“Just wanted confirmation you were actually flirting with me.” She got up on her tiptoes. “Because I really like you too.”

Lucy wanted to state for the record that what the man lost in attitude he more than made up for in the making out department. And in the groping department. And in the… you get the idea.

“What do you mean, you’re bringing a guest?” Amy asked over the phone the next morning, when said phone lines were actually working again. “Who? When? How?”

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Lucy laughed, lying on her stomach in bed. Flynn was lying beside her, tracing patterns along her back. “I just wanted everyone to know for food and stuff.”

“I am mining you for information, Lucy, don’t think you’ll escape me,” Amy warned.

“I love you too. See you in a couple days.” She hung up, and looked at the man beside her–the one who had a very innocent, placid look on his face, like he hadn’t had his tongue (and other things) between her legs an hour ago. “What on earth are we going to do for two days?”