Snowbound with the Biker (Holiday Encounters Book 2) by Amy Lamont Page A

the fog my fantasies left me in. “Sure.”
    I moved into the kitchen and started opening doors. Jackpot. There was a full set of pots and pans in the cabinet under the sink. In a pantry closet, I found boxes of pasta and jars of sauce, a box of brownie mix, several packages of Raman noodles, a couple of boxes of mac and cheese, half a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, an opened box of Cocoa Puffs, a canister of coffee and a can of mixed nuts.
    “Check the fridge, too,” Hunter called. “The power just went out this morning so anything in there should still be good.”
    “Okay.” I stepped to the big, stainless steel fridge and peered inside. There was a carton of eggs with about half a dozen left, an open package of individually wrapped American cheese, some beer, half a quart of milk and a bottle of soda.
    I shut the door and moved back into the living area. “The good news is we’re not going to starve to death anytime soon.” I flopped onto one of the oversized chairs. “The bad news is we may need to see a cardiologist to have our arteries unclogged if we’re stuck here too long. You sure it was your friend here last? If I didn’t see the coffee and beer, I’d guess a twelve-year-old boy did all the shopping.”
    Hunter chuckled and straightened up. He’d gotten a crackling fire going in the fireplace and I blew out a breath as the heat hit me. I hadn’t realized how chilly I was until I started to thaw out.
    I stood and stripped off the jacket Hunter had loaned me as well as my own winter coat. I threw them over the back of the chair next to Hunter’s jacket and moved closer to the fire, holding out my hands and reveling in the heat.
    He stood with an arm braced against the mantle, one booted foot up on the wide, stone ledge. His eyes were trained on me, some odd expression moving behind them.
    I fidgeted a little under his intense scrutiny, and dropped my eyes back to the fire. I scooted forward and sat on the ledge. When I braved another peek up at him, I he still stared at me.
    I wracked my brain for a way to fill the silence between us, and hopefully give him something else to focus on. The way he looked at me was unnerving. Finally my mind grasped on something. “So how long have you been tending bar at Rooster’s?”
    He gave a quiet snort before he gave his terse response. “I’m not a bartender.”
    “Sure looked like you were tending bar when I got there.”
    He shrugged one shoulder and turned to sink into the chair closest to the fire. “I work the bar occasionally when we’re short of help.”
    Oookay . “So are you like a manager or something?”
    “How did you know to look for me at Rooster’s?”
    “Logan told me.” I made a habit of not-so-subtly pumping my brother for information about Hunter whenever he called to check in with me. Not that I was about to share that bit of information with Hunter.
    “He told you I was a bartender?” A small smile curled the corners of Hunter’s mouth.
    Holy hell . Even the smallest gesture or expression from this man turned me inside out and pushed every thought from my head. When I finally managed to tear my attention from his mouth, I thought about his question and tried to remember exactly what Logan told me last time I asked him about Hunter.
    “I think Logan said something about Rooster’s being your latest project.” I shrugged. “I guess I just assumed you were tending bar when I walked in and saw you standing behind it.”
    He arched an eyebrow at me. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
    My spine straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    He shrugged. “I guess it’s not a surprise you’d assume I was a bartender.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t get it. I think it was a reasonable assumption.”
    “Of course it was. I’m the fuck up that grew up next door to you. The black sheep of the neighborhood. Why would you assume I was anything other than the bartender?” He slouched further into his seat, for