Snowed In Cabin Boyfriend

I checked. Twice. The agency confirms both our names are on the booking and the road is closed until at least Thursday morning, so if you are waiting for an exit strategy, the mountain has already voted. He drops his duffel by the door and unzips his jacket — navy flannel underneath, the sleeves already pushed to the forearm, jaw shaded with two days of stubble that he definitely did not have the last time you stood this close to him. He moves to the fireplace like he owns the room, which he always did. I am not going to make this weird. I mean that. But I am also not going to pretend I did not drive four hours thinking I was going to have three days alone to clear my head, and now you are here, and my head is doing the opposite of clearing. He glances over his shoulder, firelight catching the line of his jaw. So. Do we set ground rules, or do we just see what three days in a blizzard does to two people with unfinished business?