By the third morning the cabin felt smaller than it had any right to be.
The snow kept falling steady, relentless, burying the world outside in white silence. Ava stood at the window in Liam's hoodie (she hadn't bothered asking permission again; the scent of him had become a quiet addiction she refused to name) and watched drifts climb higher than the porch railing. No birds. No distant rumble of plows. Just wind and white and the low, constant growl of the generator fighting to stay alive.
Cabin fever had officially arrived.
She tried to work. She really did.
She dragged her laptop to the dining table, plugged it into the last functioning outlet, and opened her email. Twenty-seven unread messages from her boss, three client deadlines she'd promised to meet remotely, one passive-aggressive note from HR about "availability during approved leave." She stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Her fingers hovered over the keys. Nothing came.
She slammed the laptop shut harder than necessary.
Ethan glanced up from where he was sharpening knives at the counter. "Problem?"
"Everything's a problem when you can't get a signal and the Wi-Fi is running on fumes," she muttered. "I'm supposed to be closing a deal right now. Instead I'm… here."
"Here's not so bad," Liam offered from the couch, legs stretched out, scrolling through something on his phone even though service was spotty at best. His grin was lazy, but his eyes tracked her like she might disappear if he looked away.
Ava shot him a look. "Easy for you to say. You're on break." He shrugged. "Breaks are overrated. I'd rather be stuck here with you."
Heat crept up her neck. She turned away before either of them could see it. Ethan set the knife down with deliberate care. "Help with dinner if you need to move. Keeps the hands busy."
She almost laughed at the irony. Busy hands were exactly what she was trying to avoid thinking about.
They ended up in the kitchen together Ethan at the stove, Liam chopping vegetables with theatrical flair, Ava rolling out dough for biscuits because Ethan had muttered something about comfort food and she'd latched onto the task like a lifeline.
Flour dusted the island. The air smelled of garlic, rosemary, simmering tomatoes. Domestic. Normal. Except nothing about this felt normal.
Ethan reached past her for the salt. His arm brushed hers. Then his thumb rough, calloused swiped across her cheek, brushing away a streak of flour she hadn't realized was there. The touch lingered.
His thumb stayed, just barely pressing against her skin. Not moving, not retreating. Ava froze, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat.
"You've got…" he started, then stopped. His eyes dropped to her mouth for half a heartbeat before flicking back up. "Flour."
"Thanks," she whispered.
He didn't move his hand.
Behind them, Liam cleared his throat. Loudly.
Ethan dropped his arm like it had been burned. Ava exhaled shakily and turned back to the dough, cheeks flaming.
Liam sidled up a moment later, wooden spoon in hand. "Taste this," he said, dipping it into the sauce bubbling on the stove. He held it to her lips.
She opened automatically. The sauce was rich, spicy, perfect. She hummed in approval.
Liam's thumb followed the spoon, brushing the corner of her mouth, catching a stray drop. He brought it to his own lips and sucked it clean slow, deliberate, eyes locked on hers.
"Perfect," he murmured.
Ethan's knife hit the cutting board with a sharp crack.
"Enough," he said, voice low and edged.
Liam raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm just helping."
"You're flirting."
Liam leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, smirk widening. "And you're not? Come on, Dad. She's wearing my hoodie. Again. Bet city girls don't know how to handle real men out here in the woods."
The words landed like a thrown gauntlet.
Ava felt the shift in the air electric, dangerous. Ethan turned slowly, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"Watch your mouth, Liam."
Liam's grin didn't falter, but something darker flickered in his eyes. "Or what? You gonna ground me?"
Ethan stepped forward. "I said enough."
Ava moved between them before she could think better of it. "Stop. Both of you. I'm not some prize to fight over."
Liam's gaze softened just a fraction. "Never said you were."
Ethan exhaled through his nose. "Come with me."
He caught her wrist not hard, but firm and tugged her toward the pantry door. She let him lead her inside.
The door clicked shut behind them.
The pantry was narrow, shelves lined with jars and cans, barely enough room for two people. Ethan didn't let go of her wrist. Instead he backed her against the shelves until wood pressed into her spine and his body pressed into her front.
Close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. Close enough to see the storm in his eyes.
"He's too young for what you're thinking," Ethan said quietly. Roughly.
Ava lifted her chin. "And you're too old?"
The challenge hung between them.
Ethan's gaze darkened. "You have no idea what you're asking for."
"Then show me."
The words barely left her mouth before his mouth was on hers. Rough, hungry, claiming.
He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other sliding to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, angling her exactly where he wanted her. His kiss was nothing like she'd imagined there was no gentleness, no hesitation. Just raw need, teeth grazing her lower lip, tongue sweeping in like he'd been starving for this since the moment she knocked on his door.
Ava arched into him, a soft moan escaping before she could stop it. Her body responded instantly heat pooling low, thighs pressing together, nipples tightening against the soft fabric of Liam's hoodie.
Ethan growled against her mouth. "This is a mistake."
But he didn't stop.
He deepened the kiss, hips pressing forward until she felt the hard length of him against her belly. His free hand slid down her side, under the hem of the hoodie, calloused palm skimming bare skin, tracing the dip of her waist.
Ava's head spun. She kissed him back just as fiercely, nails digging into his shoulders, desperate for more.
The pantry door creaked open.
They froze.
Liam stood in the doorway, expression unreadable for one heartbeat then dark, hungry, almost reverent.
He didn't leave.
He didn't speak.
He just watched.
Ethan pulled back first, breathing hard, forehead pressed to Ava's. His hand was still under her hoodie, palm flat against her stomach. He didn't remove it.
Liam stepped inside. The door eased shut behind him.
"My turn?" he asked, voice low, rough with want.
Ava's breath hitched.
She looked between them Ethan's stormy eyes, Liam's burning ones. Both of them close enough to touch. Both of them waiting.
Her heart hammered so loud she was sure they could hear it.
She was torn, aroused, terrified.
And she had never wanted anything more in her life.