LOL #3 Romantic Comedy Anthology Read online

  The hours tick by until I become uncomfortable lying on the floor. Apparently, part of being an adventurer is sleeping until God knows when. I don’t have that luxury. With the snowstorm past, I need to go out and see what damage it has done to the cabin. I also need to shovel snow off of the roof.

  Michael sleeps like a log while I get dressed and eat a piece of bread with some jam for breakfast. It’s a pity he’s just passing through. I would have liked to get to know him better.

  There’s at least a good eight inches of fresh snow outside from the storm. One of the trees a few yards away from the cabin lost several of its branches from the weight of it. While there doesn’t appear to be any exterior damage to the cabin, the roof will definitely need to be shoveled, and soon.

  Amazingly, the snowman survived the storm, sans his carrot. I plod through the snow to get to him, smirking. Most of his eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons either fell off during the storm or were buried under more snow, leaving his once round face almost unrecognizable.

  “Poor thing. You froze your twig and berries off,” I jest, searching the ground for the carrot. There’s no point in digging in the snow for it. That’s energy I don’t need to waste, better saved for all the snow shoveling I have to look forward to.

  With my assessment done, I go back inside to check on Michael. He’s finally awoken and is sitting in front of the stove with the blankets wrapped around himself.

  “Morning,” he says to me with a smile.

  “Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I tease him.

  “I’m still cold.” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

  “Well, I can’t afford to cuddle you today. The roof needs to be shoveled, and I’m sure you need to head back into town soon.” I try not to sigh. It seems like I’m pushing him out, but more than anything, I wish he would stay.

  “I imagine you have to work a lot living like this.” He looks around the cabin, and for the first time, I feel like he’s judging me. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. The truth is, I take no pride in how I live.

  “It’s certainly no picnic.” I place my hand on my hip. He needs to leave so I can get back to my miserable life. “I’ll get you some clothes, and you can be on your way.” I go to find some of my father’s clothing that I think will fit him.

  After I toss Michael some long johns, a shirt, a pair of pants, a pair of socks, gloves, a scarf, a hat, a heavy jacket, and a pair of some old work boots, I head back outside to start shoveling while he gets dressed. My father will surely mourn the loss of the garments, but he’ll understand. That’s part of the wilderness code we live by. Everyone helps each other, or no one survives.

  About fifteen minutes later, Michael emerges from the cabin looking winter-ready. He trudges through the snow a few feet before turning around and seeing me on the roof. It would be nice if he asked if he could help, but I’m not going to press for it. The guy has been through a lot, and this isn’t the first time I’ve shoveled the roof by myself.

  “What are you doing up there?” he asks.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I toss a shovel full of snow over the side of the house.

  “That looks miserable.”

  “Someone’s got to do it.” I sigh, wishing he’d just shut up and leave. “Taking off?” Maybe if I mention him leaving, he’ll actually leave. The thought makes me feel both hopeful and sad.

  “How far away is the village from here?”

  “About three miles.” I point in the direction of the village.

  He frowns, obviously thinking of the trek. I should probably offer to take him on the snowmobile, but I just have so much work to get done. All the slacking off I did yesterday didn’t help me any.

  “Well, I guess this is goodbye then,” he says awkwardly.

  “I guess so.” I don’t even look at him as I continue with my shoveling.

  “Thanks for everything. You’re a lifesaver. You really are.”

  When I don’t respond, he starts walking towards the village. I’m not sure why I don’t respond. Maybe because I feel bitter that he’s leaving, and I’m not. Perhaps because I know I’ll never see him again, so words I say now don’t matter. One thing I do know though is that as much as I wanted him to leave, it’s killing me. There’s no love between us—attraction, maybe, but he’s still a stranger to me. It’s just the possibility of what could have been. He’s the last fresh face I’ll see in a very long time. Nothing ever changes around here. Especially me.

  I put my back to him and listen to his boots crunch in the snow as he walks away. Every strep brings me closer to breaking down. Usually, being busy helps to divert my negative thoughts. Not today though. My world has been thrown off its axis. What’s wrong with me?

  Just work, Ferne. Within an hour, it will be like he was never even here. You’ll fall back into your routine like the well-oiled little machine you are. I imagine my gears rusting and breaking. Mechanical arthritis from too much repetition and not enough care. Years and years of repeating the same chores, living the same life, hoping for a change that will never come.

  The crunching grows louder, and I wipe my tears with the back of my sleeve before Michael gets the chance to sneak up on me. What does he want now? He couldn’t have left anything behind. He didn’t bring anything. It takes a second for it to hit me that he’s coming back to ask if I’ll drive him to the village.

  “No.” I turn, looking down at him as if his very presence offends me.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, blinking a few times. “No, I can’t take you to the village.”

  “That’s not what I came back for.” He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “What do you want then?” I don’t have time for this. Dilly-dallying never did anyone any good.

  “Come with me.” He puts his weight all on one leg, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.

  “What?” Surely, he doesn’t mean what I think he does. It’s probably a trick. A ploy to get me to drive him to the village.

  “You made it seem like you wanted to leave. I’m giving you the opportunity.”

  “You want me to come with you to the village?” I try to make sure I’m understanding him.

  “Yes. To the village. And beyond. Come adventure with me. It gets lonely doing it alone, and I have a feeling you’re quite handy.”

  I lean against the shovel, crossing my hands over the handle and resting my chin on top of them to stare at him. He’s such a peculiar sight from this angle, standing there in my father’s clothing. Even though we spent the night entwined in each other’s arms, I have to remind myself that he’s a stranger. It would be stupid of me to follow him. I know nothing about him. But still. Will I ever get this chance again?

  “You’re only asking me because I saved your life,” I say, though I don’t know why. That’s obvious. Why else would he want me to come with him?

  “Yes. And I think you’re very pretty, and I’d like to get to know you better. And judging by the way that you checked out my equipment last night, I’m guessing you might want to get to know me better too.” His voice takes an adorably uncertain turn, but his words still make me blush like mad.

  I bend down to make a snowball and pelt him with it. He cowers away but laughs.

  “You’ll never speak of that again,” I insist before climbing down off of the roof.

  It’s insane, but my decision has been made. I could shovel snow all day, or go with him. Stay here and continue the life of misery I’ve been living, or take a chance. Homesteading was my parents’ idea of a good life, not mine. They’ll never let me leave on my own. If I don’t go with him now, I’ll be stuck here forever.

  “The snowmobile is in there.” I point to the shed before going inside to put out the fire, pack up a few things, write a note to my parents, and make sure everything is secured. A part of me feels guilty for leaving like this, but I can’t afford to wait. Can’t afford to let this opportunity
slip from my grasp.

  By the time I finish, Michael is already waiting outside the front door for me on the snowmobile. He could have easily taken off without me. The fact that he hasn’t makes me think he might be sincere. I suppose only time will tell. There are still several places along the way he could ditch me. Then what? Who knows, but it’s worth the risk.

  I climb onto the snowmobile behind him and we take off towards the village.

  Even though I don’t want to turn around and look back, I still do. My eyes zero in on the snowman. Perhaps the wish I made on the star did come true. Maybe there really was some magic in the moment that Martha and I shared yesterday.

  I wrap my arms around Michael’s waist and clutch him. Something hard pokes at my forearm, and my mind briefly falls into the gutter, though I know I’m not reaching down far enough to be molesting him. I grope at the object that seems to be jutting up out of the front of his pants and pull it free. He doesn’t even shift his weight as I bring the thing back to look at it.

  A smile brighter than the sun splits my lips. In my hand is one freakishly long carrot.

  Author’s Note - Sky Corgan

  You’ve just finished reading “The Snowman”, a short story by Sky Corgan. If you’d like to read something else by Sky, you should try His Indecent Lessons, a steamy new adult erotic romance.

  Get His Indecent Lessons at:

  Amazon

  Also by Sky Corgan:

  Fifty Shades of BDSM

  Jack Kemble

  His Indecent Training

  Between Two Billionaires

  The Billionaires Club

  Urges

  Playing Dom

  Damaged

  Wrong or Write

  Gabe

  Click Here to Sign Up for Sky Corgan’s Newsletter.

  Other ways to connect with Sky Corgan:

  Sky Corgan’s Facebook

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  Sky Corgan / K. Matthew

  www.kmatthewbooks.com

  Can You Love Me Now?

  Gretchen Galway

  DESCRIPTION: Sasha Selkirk has been in love with her best friend’s brother, Jake Lapinksi, since she was thirteen. Now twenty-eight, she knows if he was ever going to return her feelings, he sure as hell would’ve done it by now. So when he shows up at the snowbound mountain cabin where she’s staying—alone, trying again to forget him—she pushes him away, never expecting him to kiss her. Or make any of her other dreams come true…

  GENRE: Contemporary romance short story of about 45 pages. Although it’s set in the world of Gretchen Galway’s bestselling Oakland Hills series, you don’t have to read the other stories to enjoy this one.

  HEAT LEVEL: Sensual

  Turn the page to begin reading Can You Love Me Now? by Gretchen Galway, or click here to return to this anthology’s Table of Contents.

  Can You Love Me Now?

  Gretchen Galway

  1

  JAKE LAPINSKI WATCHED HIS SISTER unwrap the painting he’d made for her new apartment, his stomach tensing. Even after a decade as a professional artist, he got edgy when a crowd gathered to look at his work.

  Not that the two dozen or so people in the small living room in Oakland, California were gathering for that reason; his sister, Jody, had just shacked up with her boyfriend. It was an open secret they were already engaged, and all their friends and family had gathered to wish them well.

  “You didn’t have to get us anything,” Jody said, smiling at him.

  “Of course I did.” Jake hoped she didn’t hate the painting. Her opinion meant a lot to him—although not quite as much as the opinion of the woman standing by the window. If Sasha Selkirk didn’t like the painting, he’d probably take it home, gesso over it, and try again. Sasha was her sister’s oldest and closest friend, almost part of the family. She didn’t talk a lot, but when she did, it was ten times more insightful than what anyone else might say.

  “Be careful,” Jake said, reaching over to help his sister tear away the paper. He’d put the small painting inside an Amazon box. “It’s not actually dry yet.”

  Jody lifted the flaps of the box and peeked inside. “Oh, Jake. Is it rosemary? I love it!”

  He glanced at Sasha, relieved to see her smiling as she peered over Jody’s shoulder. When he wasn’t creating pet portraits for clients, he’d been painting garden herbs all year, usually in miniature. Couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “I told him it seemed small for a housewarming gift,” Marjorie, his girlfriend, said. Jake didn’t mind if Marjorie didn’t appreciate his work. She couldn’t tell the difference between Van Gogh and Vin Diesel. Although a great optometrist, she had no eye.

  Not like Sasha.

  “It’s not too small,” Sasha said. “It suits the subject matter.”

  “Thanks, Sash,” he said, saluting her with his beer bottle.

  She gave him one of her enigmatic smiles and looked down.

  What is she thinking about? he wondered for the millionth time. He ran his hand through his longish hair, emptied his beer, and set the bottle on the table next to the other housewarming gifts.

  His girlfriend picked it up and wiped away the water ring with a scrap of discarded wrapping paper. “I’ll recycle it,” she said, patting him on the head as she walked to the kitchen.

  The gesture annoyed him. They’d been dating for two months, and he was starting to worry that it wasn’t going to last. He was over thirty. He was ready to last. Ready for a relationship to last. But Marjorie didn’t seem to like him enough. He wasn’t picky, but that struck him as important, even key.

  “Jake?”

  Marjorie was calling from the kitchen. Seeing that his sister and Simon, the shack-ee, had moved on to opening the next gift, he stood up and joined his date near the refrigerator, which was in the farthest corner from the living room, just out of eyesight of the party.

  “Want me to pour you another glass of wine?” He reached for the fridge. Marjorie seemed to like him best when he was serving her something. That was another warning sign, but he wasn’t in any hurry to admit it.

  “I’m leaving,” she said. Only then did he notice she was wearing her jacket.

  Apparently she was the one in a hurry.

  “OK,” he said.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I guess it wasn’t working out,” he said.

  Her brow creased. “I was tired.” Her voice turned sharp and pointy. Kind of like her shoes. “I wanted to go home and crash. That’s all I meant.”

  “Oh.” He felt his face get hot. “Right. Totally. I’ll—well, I can’t drive you home yet because I just had a beer on an empty stomach and I’m kind of buzzed—”

  “You thought I was breaking up with you?”

  He licked his lips and studied the shape of her head, just a few inches away from her eyes. Nice head. He’d drawn her a few times, but knew she wouldn’t appreciate his technique. He tended to make people look like animals. “Yes,” he said finally.

  “And all you were going to say was ‘OK’?”

  He sighed. Might as well go with it. “I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t believe you.”

  “I know,” he said, sighing again. “That’s part of the problem.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Save us both some time, I guess.”

  “I am sorry.” After a moment, he realized he really was. He should’ve handled that better. “Look, I only had one drink, I’m cool to drive. Let me get my coat and I can at least see you h—”

  “No.” She turned and opened the front door. “I drove us here, anyway.”

  “I know, but I could—”

  The door slammed between them.

  “Drive you home and get completely stranded,” he finished under his breath. Lame. He’d forgotten that he’d just moved up into his grandmother’s house in the Oakland Hills. Not easy to get to without a car.

  He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose
, wishing another failed relationship didn’t sting so badly, that he could cover his love life with gesso like a canvas and simply start over.

  When he moved to return to the living room, he found Sasha standing only a few feet away, watching him with her dark, beautiful eyes.

  2

  SASHA CLUTCHED THE TORN WRAPPING paper to her chest as if trying to muffle the sound of her pounding heart.

  All these years and Jake still had the power to give her a coronary. He’d taken off his glasses, which made him look just like a teenager again, especially with his sandy-brown hair flopping over his forehead.

  God help her. In the fourteen-and-a-half years since she’d first decided she was in love with her best friend’s brother, she’d had several boyfriends and a fiancé—blissfully now an ex-fiancé. But Jake Lapinski still managed to get her heart going.

  And other parts.

  “Your date had to go home?” she asked.

  “Permanently,” he said, putting his glasses back on.

  So, no more Marjorie. The involuntary surge of joy the flowed through her was ridiculous. “She’s becoming a shut-in?”

  Some of the pain easing in his eyes, one corner of his mouth twitched. “If she does, I won’t know about it.” He sighed. “We broke up.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Two months,” he said.

  “I mean, the conversation. You guys were only in here for a minute.”

  “When it’s wrong, you don’t want to drag it out.”

  She walked past him and poured herself a glass of wine at the counter. “I know what you mean.” They always talked like this. Old friends with nothing to hide. “Can I make you a drink?”

  “I’ll just get a beer. But thanks.” He opened the fridge. “One good thing about Jody moving in with Simon. Decent brew.”

  She sipped her wine, knowing she should rejoin the party but also knowing she’d never leave him alone in a room voluntarily. His tractor beam was too powerful. She was a moth to his flame. She could almost smell her wings burning.

  “You do know, don’t you?” he asked. “Didn’t you just end something pretty serious?”