Marshmallows and the Snow [Sweet Snacks: 1] by Liza Kay Page A

ninety-year-old woman.
    And he’d managed to lose track of his path even more. In his blind panic to escape wild, hungry animals, he’d run through the woods in a zigzag line. Oh damn, he was so fucked. This was entirely Toby’s fault! The prick hadn’t turned out to be the knight in shining armor Ruben had hoped for, at all.
    He continued trotting through the snow because, really, what else could he do? Curling into a sobbing ball wasn’t an option although it sounded tempting. Instead, he treated himself to a short break under a sprawling tree to catch his breath and assess the situation.
    He was a mess. A shivering, wet, frozen mess and he had no idea where the hotel was located and how to find the way back. Plus, he didn’t know where to search for shelter.
    Maybe there was a cozy hut or a cabin somewhere around here. This wasn’t an area reserved for ski tourists, but for hunters. Hunters had hunters’ cabins, right? At least, in the movies and the romance novels Ruben loved to read they always had cabins. Romantic ones, made of wood, and with a hot fire burning in the fireplace. Oh and a hot, burly lumberjack who lounged on a fur in front of the fireplace, dressed in nothing but a checkered flannel shirt.
    Oh boy. The cold must’ve reached his brain if he was coming up with such ridiculous pictures while faced with his possible death amidst the wild beauty of Norway. He needed a plan. Promptly. First point on the list was moving on. Standing around wasn’t going to help him. His legs felt stiff and his feet like ice cubes from the short break.
    Second, he had to find the hotel or one of those cabins. How, he had no idea. Ruben didn’t even know if there were any cabins. But he was sure giving up hope was not the right train of thought. He wouldn’t die. Damn, he was nineteen and he refused to die before he’d managed to find a guy who loved him. Really loved him, not only pretended to care for him so he could go on vacation with Ruben and get his hands on his ass.
    And he refused to die before someone really got his hands on his ass. Although they’d dated for four months, Ruben hadn’t allowed Toby to ravish his butt. Maybe there lay part of the reason why the prick had decided to ravish other butts, in the meantime. Damn.
    But Ruben hadn’t been sure enough if he could trust Toby. The first time was important and he wanted it to happen with someone who really cared for him. Maybe loved him. Someone who would make it a fantastic, overwhelming, and unforgettable experience. Obviously, Toby wasn’t that guy. Given the circumstances, he was glad he hadn’t thrown his virtue out of the window.
    Well, he’d return home to London in five days. And after some time to breathe, he’d date and search for a new boyfriend. Ruben needed someone in his life. He was so lonely.
    Growing up with foster parents, Ruben had always longed for a deep connection with another person. His parents had been nice but not affectionate. They’d taken care of him till he’d turned eighteen and since then he’d been on his own. Ruben managed his life just fine and had a job he loved. But still, something was missing. And that something was loving and being loved in return.
     
    After another hour of walking and snow, and wet feet and snow, and endless trees and snow, Ruben was close to giving up. He was so ripe for a desperate breakdown, with sobbing, tears and snot and all that shit.
    Just as Ruben was looking for a cozy place in the snow to curl into a ball, a big as fuck and scary owl flapped its huge wings and made those creepy owl-noises. Ruben fell backward and landed on his ass, his heart beat so fast he thought he’d suffer a heart attack. When he let his gaze travel up the tree, the owl peered at him with its bright, yellow eyes. It had this annoyed look going on. Like Ruben was invading its beauty sleep or something.
    “Oh, shut up, birdy! I’m the one in deep shit. You’re sitting up there on your branch with your