Snowed in with the Cowboy. Maisey Yates

the woman said slowly. “Is that okay?”

      Tanner looked at her sideways. “We were hoping for two. She’s my sister,” he said, by way of explanation.

      And that made Chloe’s stomach get even tighter. Because she was not his sister. And step was a one-syllable word. Stepsister was not much harder to say.

      It was so strange and twisted and utterly messed up, because if the circumstances were any different she would probably like that he didn’t take pains to make it clear the two of them weren’t related. That he seemed to accept her with such ease.

      Except she didn’t think of him as a brother, and she never had. And so it made her feel distant, because it didn’t allow her the kind of closeness that she wanted.

      “Sorry,” the woman said. “It’s all I have. We are slammed, and this place isn’t that big.”

      “Yeah,” Tanner said, looking around. “I get that.”

      It was rustic, with a big living area, a massive fireplace that was currently roaring, and rocking chairs placed all around. There was a station for coffee and hot chocolate, and for all that it was rustic, it was also incredibly homey.

      “We’ll take the room,” Chloe said.

      Tanner looked over at her. “It’s not like you’re going to go out and sleep in your truck,” she said.

      “Fair enough.”

      He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, offering the woman his credit card.

      “You don’t have to pay,” Chloe said.

      “I’ll tell you what,” Tanner said. “You can buy me a coffee.”

      She rolled her eyes. “A coffee is not going to cover the cost of the hotel room.”

      “Don’t worry about it, Chloe,” he said. “I know where you live. I’m going to go grab our bags.” He left his credit card on the counter and walked back outside. Chloe watched him go, her body jangling with nerves.

      “He’s your brother?” the woman questioned.

      “Stepbrother,” she said absently.

      “Oh,” she said, as if that made much more sense. Chloe truly didn’t want to inquire as to why.

      Tanner returned a few moments later, and at that point they were checked in and ready to go. The woman handed them a metal key with a big round piece of wood attached to it. It had etching on it, identifying it as a key for room 15 at Granite Ridge Lodge.

      Chloe swallowed hard, and determined that she wasn’t going to allow the weirdness in her to be spread around.

      “Which way do we go?” Chloe asked.

      “Up the stairs,” the woman said. “First door on the left.”

      Chloe nodded affirmatively, and she and Tanner walked toward the sweeping wooden staircase that would take them to their room.

      When they reached the top of the stairs, they headed down the hall, pausing at the door, and Chloe stopped, her eyes lingering on the view of the lodge over the top of the railing, and the coyote hide that was draped over the log posts.

      She heard the lock click, and something in her body went tight. She didn’t know why she was reacting like this. Like it was anything other than normal.

      They shared the same house all the time. There would be nothing significantly different about sharing a room for a couple of hours.

      Tanner pushed the door open and the two of them walked in and then Chloe stopped cold.

      The furniture was made from natural wood, large pieces of trees that seemed to be twisted into shapes. But the largest, heaviest-looking piece of furniture was the massive bed that dominated the room.

      The only bed.

      Chloe looked over at Tanner, and for just one moment she was certain that she saw heat blazing in his eyes.

       CHAPTER THREE

      TANNER WAS ABOUT to throw his bag through the window down to the snow below, and follow it with his body. This was getting out of control. He was going to be snowed in, in this tiny room that had one bed, with Chloe. Overnight. With all that inappropriate attraction that lived inside him, deep and dark and shameful.

      At least, it should be shameful.

      Rather than giving him any pleasure. Rather than making him feel...

      He should’ve gotten laid before they left Gold Valley. He should’ve gotten laid a long time ago.

      He looked over at Chloe, who seemed serene.

      That was the other damned ridiculous part of all this. It wasn’t like Chloe had any idea her older stepbrother was lusting after her like a pervert.

      None of this probably seemed weird to her. They shared the same house. This probably seemed completely normal to her.

      To him it was all about the space surrounding them. Or the lack of it.

      There wasn’t enough space here. There weren’t enough walls.

      “I’ll take the floor,” he said, walking in past her.

      “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “You don’t have to pay for the hotel room and then gallantly take the floor.”

      “I’m not being gallant.” She had no idea. “I’m being practical. Anyway. When I go hunting I’m more than happy to sleep in my truck, or in the bed of it if I want to stretch out. I don’t have any issue with a hard surface.”

      She looked at him, her expression bordering on being so bland it had to be intentional. “What makes you think I do?”

      “You’re a woman,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’m being chivalrous.”

      Much to his surprise, Chloe rolled her eyes. If there had been a foot stomp involved he wouldn’t have been surprised. “Oh, because I’m a woman?”

      “Yes,” he returned. He slammed the room door shut behind them, trying not to be too conscious of the fact that it seemed to make the air a hell of a lot thicker.

      “It’s just that you introduced me as your sister downstairs. I wasn’t sure that me being a woman factored into anything.”

      He frowned. “That bothers you?”

      “It doesn’t bother me,” she said, so huffily that it was clear that she was intensely bothered. “It’s just that I’m not your sister.”

      “I’m aware of that.”

      “You called me your sister.”

      “You’re my stepsister. It’s close enough.”

      “Except your father died. He died and our parents aren’t married because he died.”

      He gritted his teeth. “I’m well aware that my father died, Chloe, you don’t have to repeat it four times.”

      “Well, me, too,” she said, looking ferocious. “I loved your father. I did. He was the only father that I ever knew. And it’s not... I’m not minimizing that. But I’m just saying.”

      “I don’t know what the hell you’re saying,” he said, choosing to ignore her now that she was in such an unreasonable mood.

      He was the one that should be in a mood. He was the man stuck sleeping on the floor for the night. He was the man who had increasingly inappropriate thoughts about the woman he was trapped in a room with overnight.

      “I’d better call Jackson,” he said, pulling his