Snowed in with My Grump: Chapter Three - Trapped With Him

Piper didn’t mean to end up at his cabin. But when a blizzard hits and her car’s in a ditch, she has no choice but to take shelter with the one man she swore she was done with—her ex-husband.

Holt hasn’t seen Piper in years, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to find her half-frozen on his porch. But letting her in doesn’t mean letting her back in. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

The storm outside is brutal. The silence between them is worse.

And there’s only one bed.

Chapter Three 

Piper 

Trapped With Him

The extra blanket lands by my feet with a soft thud.

He doesn’t say anything. Just mutters something about not being a gentleman and disappears down the hall, footsteps heavy like he regrets the decision already.

But the chattering stops. Because it’s warmer now. And the blanket smells like him, woodsmoke, flannel, and something grounded. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t still hit me.

I shift under the weight of it and stare at the fire. It’s low, but still going. Flickers dance across the walls like they’re trying to make the place feel less tense than it is. I’m not buying it.

The wind screams against the side of the cabin, loud enough to rattle the windows. Whatever storm they predicted? It’s finally here fully. And it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

I glance toward the hallway where Holt disappeared. Everything about him tonight has been colder than the damn weather, until that blanket. And maybe that look, right before he turned away.

I pull the blanket tighter around me.

“I make a mean blanket fort,” I whisper, like an echo from earlier. No one laughs. Not that I expected him to.

The truth is, I didn’t plan this. I didn’t even want this. Not really.

But there’s something worse than being stuck in a snowstorm with your ex.

And it’s being stuck in a snowstorm with your ex who still gets under your skin with one grunted sentence and a blanket.

I didn’t expect him to care.

And that’s what makes it worse.

The fire shifts again, a soft pop breaking the silence. I tuck my legs under me, curl tighter into the blanket cocoon like it’ll do something for the ache his presence brings.

It shouldn’t still feel like this. Not after all this time. Not after everything I left behind. But the storm outside has a funny way of stripping things down. Like maybe it’s not just the trees groaning under pressure—it’s me too.

Footsteps creak down the hall, slow and steady. I sit up straighter without meaning to, heart stupidly hopeful in a way it shouldn’t be.

Holt walks back in, rubbing a hand through his hair, looking like maybe he didn’t mean to come back out at all. His flannel’s still half unbuttoned. Bare skin flashes at the collar. I look away fast.

“You forget something?” I ask, trying to keep it light.

He grunts. “Water.”

Of course. Just water. Not some second thoughts about letting me freeze out here.

He grabs a bottle from the counter and unscrews the cap. Doesn’t look at me.

But just as he turns to head back down the hall, he stops.

I don’t say anything. Just shift slightly, trying to seem comfortable even though my toes are probably blue.

That’s when it happens.

His eyes flick toward me, and then his brow furrows. “Are you still cold?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but my body betrays me with another sharp shiver.

His jaw tightens. “You should’ve said something.”

“You already gave me a blanket,” I say, trying to smile. “Didn’t want to press my luck.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just stares a little too long. Like he’s deciding something he doesn’t want to.

Then: “Come on.”

I blink. “What?”

He exhales through his nose, already annoyed. “You’re freezing. The fire’s dying. I’m not dragging your hypothermic ass to the hospital tomorrow. So come on.”

“Where?”

His jaw ticks. “Bed.”

My eyebrows lift. His frown deepens.

“Just to sleep,” he grits out. “Jesus. Don’t make it weird.”

“I wasn’t the one who invited me,” I mutter, pushing the blanket tighter around me as I rise. “And technically, you already made it weird by storming off like I was the ghost of Christmas past.”

He mutters something under his breath, then turns and heads down the hall without waiting.

I hesitate, then follow, blanket wrapped tight like a barrier between me and whatever this is. I left my sweater draped near the fire, and it’s still damp. Underneath, it’s just a thin tank and a pair of boyshort panties—what I had on under my clothes when I got here. Not exactly storm survival gear. Definitely not meant for sharing a bed with my ex. Not that he hasn’t seen it all before—but it’s been a long time. 

And this isn’t the same.

When I step into the bedroom, he’s already on his side of the bed, back to the wall, one arm folded under the pillow. He looks up and as I stand next to the bed.

“You don’t need that in here,” he says, voice rough, nodding at the blanket still wrapped around me.

“Well,” I say lightly, “I kinda do.”

His brows furrow with confusion.

I shrug, a little too casual. “I took my wet sweater  and pants off, so I don’t have much on under this.”

He swears under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

I bite back a grin. “Don’t worry. I’m not naked. Not that you haven’t seen that before.”

“Piper.”

“What?”

He groans into the pillow like I’m the actual storm. But he doesn’t tell me to leave.

So I cross the room, let the blanket fall to the floor at the foot of the bed, and lift the covers. I climb in slowly, careful not to touch him. The mattress dips under my weight. The silence crackles. His body heat radiates beside me, and the warmth in the room has nothing to do with the temperature.

I lay still. Staring at the ceiling. Heart thudding far too loud.

He doesn’t say a word. But he doesn’t move away either. And that’s somehow worse.

The silence stretches—tight, loaded, fragile. I count the seconds like they’ll give me answers.

Then his voice breaks through, low and rough.

“You always this stubborn?”

I blink, caught off guard. “Only when I’m freezing.”

A soft scoff. Almost a laugh. Almost.

Another beat passes. And then, quieter this time—like he’s not sure why he’s asking, “You warm now?”

I nod, even though he’s not looking.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Thanks.”

He exhales through his nose, like the words unsettled something. But he still doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

Minutes pass. Or maybe just heartbeats that feel longer than they should. I shift slightly, not touching him, just…closer. It’s instinct, not strategy. Like gravity’s doing the asking for me.

His breath catches.

Then so does mine.

“You don’t have to stay all the way over there,” he mutters, voice barely audible.

I roll onto my side, slow and careful. Face to face now.

He’s watching me. Shadowed eyes, jaw tense, like every second is a choice he’s still not sure he should make.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he says.

“I know.”

His hand moves, just slightly. Fingertips graze the edge of the blanket. Then my hip. Not possessive. Just there.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” I whisper, not sure why I say it. Maybe because it’s racing like mine.

“You’re not the only one cold,” he says.

But it’s not about the cold anymore.

I press in, not all the way, just enough to feel the heat of him through the thin fabric that’s suddenly too much and not enough. My leg brushes his. My hand finds his chest, warm and bare under my palm. His muscles tighten, and he doesn’t pull back.

His mouth is so close now. One breath away.

“Tell me to stop,” I murmur.

His eyes flick to mine. Then lower. His breathing shifts but he doesn’t pull away.

He leans in instead, lips brushing mine in a kiss that isn’t careful. It’s quiet, but its also not tentative. It’s familiar and everything we shouldn’t be saying.

And when his hand slips under the blanket to my bare thigh, I stop pretending I’m unaffected.

I didn’t come in here for this.

But maybe I needed it anyway. Needed him.

Even if it’s a terrible idea and only for tonight. And even if what happens next changes everything.

Come back tomorrow for Chapter Four

Come back tomorrow for Chapter Three

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: December 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix