One Snowy Night

by Jill Shalvis

  “gentle” promise. He looked her right in the eyes. “Nothing.”

  Her eyes went to little slits. “Liar.” She opened her door, revealing that the slush had turned to snow, as she swung his keys from her fingers. “Tell me or say goodbye to your keys.”

  “That’ll strand you too,” he pointed out.

  She raised her eyebrows and he got the message. She didn’t care.

  “Fine,” he said. “She told me to be nice to you. Actually, she said gentle.” While she gaped at that, he snagged the keys from her lax fingers, feeling like an asshole when he leaned into her, reaching past her to slam her door shut.

  She didn’t shrink back, which meant that their bodies once again bumped up against each other, and it was like they knew what his brain couldn’t seem to comprehend—­he wanted her. He was a little thrown by that, and the now familiar zing of electricity, only slightly mollified to realize by the way her breath hitched that she felt it too.

  “If you even try to be gentle,” she said, “I’ll get out and walk.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed. He couldn’t help it. She drove him insane. “Got it.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good,” she said, sounding only slightly appeased. “Now tell me what she told you to make you agree to such a thing.”

  Christ, she was good. “How do you know she told me anything?”

  “Again, it’s Willa,” she said. She crossed her arms and stared at him, and for a second he was pretty sure she could see right inside his head and read his mind. “She told you something to make you feel sorry for me,” she guessed.

  He schooled his features into a blank face, or so he hoped. “I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

  “Ha!” she cried, pointing at him. “She did! What was it? That I applied for an internship at a local vet, which I need for the animal tech credential I want, and got turned down flat for lack of credible references?”

  Shit. No, he hadn’t known that and his heart twisted for her. “Why didn’t you ask someone to give you a reference?” he asked. “Archer, Joe, Spence, Finn . . . me? Any one of us would’ve jumped to help you.”

  She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So it wasn’t that.”

  Yeah, this conversation was about to go south fast. He reached to start the engine again because no way did he want this little guessing game to take a dark turn, which it would if she landed on the truth.

  “There was only one other thing she could’ve told you that would have made you feel sorry enough for me to give me a ride,” she said, staring at him. “But if she’d told you that, I think I’d be able to tell.”

  He met her gaze and she gasped softly, her eyes holding his prisoner. “Oh my God,” she whispered, leaning back away from him. “Damn her.”

  “You were attacked in the park when you first landed in San Francisco,” he said quietly, finding it a shocking effort to keep his voice calm. “That shouldn’t have happened to you. It shouldn’t happen to anyone.”

  She turned away. “We’re not discussing this.”

  “Did you press charges?”

  She looked out into the starry night. “Drive.”

  “Rory, please tell me he’s rotting in a jail cell.”

  “Drive, dammit.”

  “Hang on a sec—­”

  “I didn’t press charges and he’s not rotting in a jail cell because I don’t remember what he looks like!” she burst out. “I accepted a drink from a stranger, he drugged me, and I remember nothing. Not his face, not anything about him, and not a single second of that night at all. So no, I didn’t turn him in. I had nothing to turn in. I was an idiot, okay? I was a complete idiot and I paid the price, and now if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it ever again.”

  “I get that, but—­”

  “Not. Ever. Again,” she said tightly. “And I mean it, Max. Bring it up and I’m out. I’ll walk to Tahoe, I don’t care.” She turned to him then, eyes blazing with strength and temper. “We clear?”

  Her strength was . . . amazing. “Crystal,” he said quietly.

  She nodded and relaxed marginally. “Good. And one more thing. If you so much as try to be gentle or handle me with kid gloves, I’ll kick your ass. And I could do it too—­your boss taught me some mean moves.”

  He believed her. If Archer had taught her then she was lethal, and he was glad for it. No one would take advantage of her again. He started the truck and navigated their way through the falling snow back onto the highway, where they left most of civilization behind as they hit the wild Sierras.

  It was always a surreal thing to drive in heavy snow in the dark of night. In the black landscape, the snow came at them in diagonal slashing lines across the windshield. The road narrowed to two lanes, winding back and forth in tight S-­turns as they began to climb the summit.

  They hadn’t seen another car in miles when Rory started to wriggle in her seat.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road to look at her. It was always best to not look at her because doing so messed with his head in ways he couldn’t begin to explain.

  “I’ve got to make a pit stop,” she said.

  For this he took his gaze off the road and stared at her in disbelief. “I just asked you if you had to go. While we were at the damn gas station.”

  “That was thirty minutes ago. And I didn’t have to go then.” She glanced back at Carl. “He has to go again too.”

  Bullshit. But as if on cue, Carl whined softly.

  Hell. Max gestured to the scene in front of them. Nothing but thick, unforgiving forestland. “Where would you like to stop?”

  “At a bathroom.”

  He let out a short laugh. “Okay, princess. I’ll just wave my magic wand and make one appear.”

  She wriggled some more. “Fine. I’ll make do. Pull over anywhere, I guess.”

  “Serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” she said. “Unless you’re not fond of your leather seats?”

  He pulled over and together they peered out the windows to the endless sea of woods. “Pick a tree,” he said. “Any tree. Make it close to the road because I don’t have any snowshoes in the truck.”

  “I’m not going to pee close to the road.”

  “Unless you want to wade in up to your cute ass and swim through the accumulation of snow in those woods, that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

  Rory blew out a sigh, zipped up her jacket, and pulled the hood over her head. She opened her door and Carl leapt out ahead of her. She let out a low laugh and then hesitated.

  “What?” Max asked.

  “Do you think there are bears out there?”

  He eyed the foot of fresh snow, still coming down sideways in the vicious wind. “I don’t think there’s anything out there tonight.”

  “I bet you’re just saying that,” she said. “You probably want a bear to get me.”

  “I don’t want a bear to get you.” He didn’t. But he wouldn’t mind if, say, she stood beneath a tree and it unloaded snow on her . . .

  She blinked into the night. “Where did Carl go?”

  “Probably to do his business.” He hopped out too. “Carl!”

  Nothing but the sound of the wind beating up the trees two hundred feet above them. The heavy snow continued to fall but it did so with an eerie, ominous silence.

  Shit. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ve got a flashlight in the back.”

  “I’ve got a flashlight too—­”

  “Mine’s better.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, sounding insulted.

  “I just do.”

  “Are you always so obnoxiously stubborn—­”

  He ignored the rest of that sentence, knowing she couldn’t find Carl with the flashlight app on her phone. He dug and came up with his big Maglite, turned back and . . . nearly plowed Rory over because she was stan
ding right there, close, like she’d been snugged up to his back, afraid of the dark. He grabbed her, slipping an arm around her to steady her. “Sorry—­”

  Sorry nothing. Because she was soft and smelled good and she stood there, right there, with . . . a decent-­sized Maglite of her own in one hand, Carl obedient and smiling at her other side.

  “Got him,” she said sweetly.

  Like she was sweet. He knew damn well she was smart as hell, she was resourceful, a survivor . . . She was a lot of things, but sweet wasn’t one of them.

  Then she crouched down and hugged Carl. “Good boy. You were just checking for snakes, weren’t you? Such a good, pretty, wonderful boy.”

  Carl panted happily and set his big head on her shoulder, the ungrateful bastard. They were both covered in snow. Hell, they all were.

  While Rory made her way behind a tree, Max dried Carl off and got him into the truck. When Rory came out of the woods, Max really wanted not to care that she was wearing more snow than clothes and shivering, but he couldn’t do it. He watched while with shaking hands she carefully shook off before climbing into the truck. Then she stripped out of her jacket that clearly wasn’t waterproof.

  This left her in a soft off-­white sweater that was damp and clinging to her like a second skin. She wore a white lace bra, also damp, and not doing much to hide the fact that she truly was cold. And he was absolutely concentrating on that and how she looked like she needed a hot cheeseburger, and not her nipples, two hard little beads threatening to poke through both the lace and the material of her sweater.

  Had he thought of her as the sweet, girl-­next-­door type? Maybe if the girl next door was pinup material, because damn. Sitting there with her long waves clinging to her face and shoulders and chest, giving him peekaboo glimpses of her perfect breasts, he couldn’t remember why he didn’t like her and didn’t want to like her.

  “What?” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’ve never seen cold nipples before?”

  Yes, but not ones that made his mouth water to taste. Kiss. Nibble. Suck into his mouth . . . “Did you see any bears?”

  Rolling her eyes, she pulled a hair tie from around her wrist and used it to contain the wet mass of waves on top of her head.

  He handed her a towel, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, if fine is drenched and cold,” he said. “Take it. It’s not the same one I used on Carl.”

  “I wouldn’t care about that,” she said. “But you might have to stop and put on chains soon and you’ll need a towel for yourself.”

  “We’re not going to need chains,” he said. “I’m in four-­wheel drive and we’ve got good tires. Now use the damn towel, you’re dripping all over the place.”

  As he knew it would, this galvanized her into action and she ran the towel over herself in jerky motions. When she was done, she was still shivering, and after a hesitation, she pulled off her damp sweater.

  This left her in a white camisole and aforementioned white lace bra, neither of which were all that significant.

  “You going to stare at me all night or get us back on the road?” she asked coolly.

  Gentle . . . With that word echoing in his head, he aimed the heater vents her way and pulled them back onto the highway.

  Things had gone downhill in the few minutes they’d been stopped. The snow was really accumulating now, making the highway slick, forcing him to slow down. Way down.

  “At this rate, it’s gonna take all night to get there,” she said, sounding worried.

  Most likely she didn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary. But it wasn’t like this was how he’d seen himself spending Christmas Eve either.

  In the very loud silence of the truck, his belly grumbled, reminding him he’d missed dinner. And lunch. He’d had breakfast but it felt like it’d been days since then.

  He heard Rory rustling around and ignored her until a sandwich appeared beneath his nose. “No, thanks,” he said.

  “Take it.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Yeah, well, your stomach says otherwise,” she said.

  “I’m not eating your food,” he said, refusing to take the dinner she’d so clearly packed for herself.

  She let out a sound of female frustration. “Tell me something. Are you always this stubborn or is it something special you save just for me?”

  “I meant I’m not eating your dinner,” he clarified.

  “I learned how to share in kindergarten. You should try it sometime.”

  He blew out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take half if you eat the other half.”

  She looked surprised and then shrugged. “Deal.”

  Starving to the bone, he wolfed through his portion of her admittedly delicious PB&J and then watched as she ate only half of her half, and then gave the last quarter to Carl.

  His heart squeezed as Carl chomped his portion down in one bite, licked his huge chops, and gave her an adoring gaze.

  Rory laughed and then pulled something else from her bag of magic tricks—­a thermos.

  “Hot chocolate,” she said, pouring Max half of what she had. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

  “Thanks.” He’d known he’d be making this drive tonight and he hadn’t given provisions a single thought. After all, he had an emergency kit in the back and he was good.

  But she was better. She’d clearly given this lots of thought and was prepared, and it made him wonder why she was going home in the first place. He knew she hadn’t been there in years. “I was surprised to find that you were going to Tahoe,” he said, fishing.

  She sipped her hot chocolate. “Should’ve packed marshmallows,” she murmured.

  He had the oddest urge to stop and get her some but they were nowhere near a store.

  She drained her cup and had a chocolate mustache. Her tongue came out and licked her lips with great relish and he nearly ran them off the road.

  Startled, she glanced over at him.

  He stared resolutely straight ahead at the road—­or what he could see of it—­wondering what the hell this odd reaction to her was. Uncalled for. Stupid. Very stupid.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Terrific. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t ask one.”

  He resisted rolling his eyes. “Why are you going home this year?”

  She shrugged. “My family and I have a rocky relationship. Mostly because I’ve flaked on them, a lot. I’m . . . undependable. I wanted to change that.” She paused. “If I can.”

  Max thought of the life she led now, going to school, working hard. “You seem pretty dependable to me.”

  “Yes, well, thankfully things change. ­People change.” She hesitated again, and he realized she was weighing how much she wanted to tell him. “I’m not sure my family gets that,” she finally said. “I’ve let them down.”

  He was sympathetic to that. He’d been a punk-­ass teenager himself. If his family judged him off that asshole he’d once been, they wouldn’t like him very much either. “Then and now are different,” he said. “They’ll see that.”

  She didn’t look convinced and he couldn’t blame her. Because even he’d been judging her off something she’d done in the past. Which made him a first-­class jerk.

  “You do realize the gas pedal is the narrow one on the right,” she said.

  He glanced over at her. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re driving like a granny without her spectacles, and I’m in a time crunch.”

  He choked out a laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, things are a little dicey out there.”