Caressing fingers brushed melting snow from her forehead, forcing her eyelids open.
He loomed above her, his eyebrows furrowed with worry, not condescension. “Dumb, no. Slow, yes.” The corners of his mouth lifted before sending her an irresistible wink. God, he was magnificent. “If you’re going to live up here, you need faster reflexes.”
She didn’t let the live up here slip from her mind without storing it in her consciousness. Still flat on her back, snow falling onto her lashes and seeping into her pants, she tried hauling herself up. Only, her ankles bent under her awkward footing, sending her grappling for the closest object, Ayden McCabe.
They both fell, his body, harder and less pliable than a seven-foot tree. The wind knocked out of her, she lay wrestling for a breath, the air thinner here than in California.
They remained in frozen astonishment, both staring into each other’s eyes, neither having the fortitude to take advantage of the situation. The moment could have played out just like one of those romantic Christmas movies on Lifetime. Only it didn’t. He didn’t kiss her, she didn’t kiss him, and the magic moment slipped away.
“I think we’d better get going.” He pushed himself up, shook the snow from his coat, and presented her a helping hand. She wanted to smack it away, hurt by his aloofness. So what if her heart skipped a beat whenever he stood within a few feet of her? So what if she wanted to kiss him so bad, she couldn’t think straight?
However, she reconciled with the strangeness of their situation and allowed him to help her stand. The adrenaline and warmth of his nearness gone, she began to shiver, a visible tremor causing him to glance down with piercing eyes.
“Are you all right?”
I’m fffffine,” she said, her body trembling more.
He canted his head, and she understood when not to challenge him with another transparent lie.
“Do you think you can get back to the truck by yourself?” he asked, offering her the keys.
“Of course,” she said, with more confidence than she felt.
“Good. As soon as you get there, turn the heater on and stay warm. I’ll be right behind you.” She nodded and turned, retracing their steps until they disappeared under the heavy falling snow. Several times, she stopped, backtracked, and started forward again. It wasn’t long before she recognized nothing—not even the tips of the mountaintops.
“Ayden?” she called, her voice hoarse with alarm.
Despite the shivering, she was sweating, her heart reaching a crescendo of beats with each trudging step she placed upon the layer of new snow. “Don’t panic,” she whispered, moving forward, changing course and slogging back the way she came. She walked five more minutes before she saw the top of Ayden’s truck.
She let out a cry of relief, half-tumbling, half-sliding down the small embankment to the all but empty parking lot. Numb and frozen, she fumbled for the keys and opened her door, slipping onto the cold, hard seat.
With her fingers and toes stinging from both her falls, she tore off her gloves and shoes and stretched to switch on the ignition. She huddled near the heater; however, no matter how near or how long she stayed in the position, the warmth never seemed to touch her.
“Th-think about San Fr-francisco,” she mumbled to herself. However, some of her memories there were just as cold as she felt. Then her mind switched to Ayden. All she needed to do was remember that single kiss under the mistletoe, and her insides melted. If only the memory could thaw out the rest of her chilled body.
She blew out a wavering, unsteady exhale. This day had turned out nothing like she wanted or even expected. Having an impromptu boyfriend meant snowball fights and ice skating lessons where some sort of mutual affection formed over the course of a few days. Doomed to keep reading the same book with the same unhappy ending, Grace bent her head and cursed her sister.
If Danielle hadn’t run away, Grace would be home, stuck but safe, and unwilling to move one way or the other. As long as she stayed in Mistletoe she saw possibilities, even if they were part of a man’s plan to stay single the rest of his life. She sniffed, starting to feel sorry for herself when the truck shook, and a few moments later, Ayden joined her inside.
He glanced her way, doing a double take in her direction. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m fffffine.”
“Yes, you’ve said that. Did you do what I told you to do?”
She nodded, “But I sort of gggot lost.”
“Dammit!” he cursed.
His anger didn’t make Grace feel any better.
“I should have made you stay in the truck.”
She pressed her reddened fingers to the vents and tried to ignore the way he was staring at her. After a few relatively quiet moments, he shifted toward her, giving a command that almost made her faint.
“Take off your pants.”
Chapter Ten
Grace’s head jerked in Ayden’s direction, the sudden action making her dizzy. “What?”
She blinked, afraid to move. Less than a foot away, he shrugged out of his coat and then scooted to her side to help her out of hers. His features stern and concentrated, she didn’t realize what he was doing until his fingers fell to her midsection, grasping for the button of her khakis.
“Ayden, no!” She stretched out her arm, her hand pressed firm against the thin fabric of his T-shirt and the rapid beating of his heart.
“Dammit, Grace,” he growled and reached behind her, producing a thick maroon and gray fleece blanket. “You’re going into hypothermia.” He threw the blanket over her before giving her a stern warning. “If you’re not out of those pants in three seconds, I will be more than happy to remove them for you.”
When she didn’t budge right away, he exhaled and said the one word that sent her scrambling to get undressed. “Two.”
Her arms trembled, making it much harder to slide from her wet clothes. She tried to argue with herself that he was wrong and she was just cold. “I’m not…getting…hypothermia,” she said aloud, her teeth chattering and proving him right.
“Lie down.”
She shook her head, and he wasted no time grasping her hips to pull her underneath him. In a blink, he had his coat tucked under her head and his body pressing her back into the leather seat.
“Th-th…this only wo-works in the mo-mo-movies.” She stared into his fierce and worrisome features.
He brushed a piece of hair from her eyes and caressed her forehead with his fingertips. “You don’t like it when someone takes care of you, do you?”
She turned away, his palm gently bringing her face back to his. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin higher. “I’m just not used to it,” she said when she thought she could talk without stammering her words.
With his body longer than the cab, she realized he wasn’t entirely nude and neither was she. He had lifted his T-shirt so his hard chest lay flush with hers, her black lace bra still fastened around her breasts.
She craved his warmth, shifting to adjust herself under him to accept more of what he had to offer. The woodsy and spicy scent of his skin comforted her mind, so much so she felt herself drifting in and out consciousness.
“Grace, no. I need you to stay awake, okay?”
“A little nap…I promise.”
She floated toward the awaiting darkness, content to let the obscurity envelop her when she felt the crush of Ayden’s mouth on hers, jarring her back awake. Welcoming and wondrous heat spread from her face to her stomach. Unlike the mistletoe moment, Ayden’s kiss was full of urgency and promise. His lips, unyielding and delicious, teased hers further apart. She let go a whimper and then a soft gasp when he clutched at her hips, bringing her up to meet him.
No longer drowsy, she dug her fingers into the corded muscles of his flexed arms. Her blood now rushed through her veins like a thawing mountain river. With her heart booming against her breast, she glided her tongue along the seam of his mouth, drawing from him a deep groan and a hasty retreat.
> “I…had to do that,” he said, his voice husky and low.
“Do…what?”
He struggled on an answer until she realized he’d kissed her just to keep her from falling asleep. Embarrassed that she’d thought there was something more, she shoved at his chest, but her arms only shook the harder she pushed. With a frustrated grunt, he clasped her wrists, holding them so her palm pressed flat against his heated skin.
“Stop wasting your energy,” he said.
She stared into his stern features. Since the falling snow had covered the windshield, it obscured the light inside the cab, turning his eyes an indigo blue.
“Have you ever had to do this before?” she asked.
He smiled down at her. “At least once.”
The obvious questions sat on the tip of her tongue. With whom? Was he dating her? Did the situation turn into more than him administering mouth-to-mouth? The longer she continued to ask the silent questions, the wider his smile grew. She had no doubt, with his various superpowers, he had the ability to read her mind.
Of course, he didn’t volunteer any information, and Grace didn’t dare make any more mental inquiries. Instead, she quieted herself to the moment.
After a great deal of time had passed, Ayden cleared his throat and spoke in a deep and restrained tone. “I should get you back to the house.”
He lifted above her, his gaze falling over her breasts and then quickly away. Her head hurt too much to interpret his sudden withdrawal, so she observed, instead, him jerking his shirt back on and trying to avoid glancing over to her again. Perhaps she did affect him more than he wanted her to know.
“Leave your clothes on the floor and the blanket around you.” Ayden switched on the windshield wipers, his gaze shifting everywhere but to her.
Too exhausted to argue, she wrapped the polar fleece tighter around her bare skin. “I’m sorry,” she said to break the quiet and initiate a conversation. Of course, she wasn’t sorry, nor did she want to feel guilty about any of this. Not for trying to save a bird’s nest, or getting lost, or forcing Ayden McCabe to tear off his shirt so he could lay on top of her and kiss her back to recovery. “I mean—”
“I should never have let you go back to the truck by yourself.”
Before she could shake her head or say anything to make him feel less responsible, he changed the subject. “You’re going to be sore for a while,” he said above the squeak of the windshield wipers.
If she didn’t feel so miserable, emotionally and physically, she might have harrumphed at his words. She believed one of the benefits of pretending to be his girlfriend was to fast-forward them through this awkward stage of pre-dating. She supposed if she were taller and blonder, Ayden McCabe would have no problem taking advantage of the situation and making her sore for an entirely different reason.
“Are you all right?” he asked after a long moment of awkward silence.
“No.” She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of everything except the hum of the engine and the click of the dog tags on the rearview mirror. Afraid to fall asleep, however, she allowed herself to reminisce over the last fifteen minutes. It wasn’t hard. Every time she inhaled, she smelled Ayden’s heady, masculine scent. She still tasted him, still felt the pressure of his lips on hers. She imagined him kissing her, without the need to do so and without the unemotional pact between them.
What seemed like a second later, the jolting underneath her changed, and a familiar coldness whipped across her chapped face. She fluttered her eyelids open to find Ayden beside her on the passenger side. He bent down as if to scoop her into his arms when she pushed him away.
“I think I can manage,” she snapped, unable to imagine him carrying her up a flight of stairs like a helpless child.
“Don’t fight me on this, Evans,” he said, lifting her up with little effort. Too tired to struggle, she let him carry her all the way to the room she’d occupied the last part of the previous night. It lay as she left it, cloaked in partial darkness, a single ray of daylight seeping in through a set of velvety blue curtains. He sat her on the bed, before stepping to an antique mahogany dresser. Under hooded lashes, she watched his rugged and disheveled form, her body so much more aware of him since they’d spent a few intense half-naked moments together.
When he returned to the bed, he sank down beside her and placed a pair of men’s blue and green flannel pajamas next to her. “They might not fit, but they’re a lot warmer than what you brought with you.”
She thought about arguing, but the words stuck somewhere between her mind and windpipe. She didn’t like being this dependent on anyone, or rather, she wasn’t used to being this dependent on anyone. Since her father’s abrupt departure from her life, she’d taken care of her mother and sister, diving into the role without question or resentment.
When Ayden left her, she shrugged into the heavy fabric and then laid her head on his cologne-scented pillow, wondering how any woman would ever let him go. Then again, she wondered how many hearts he’d shattered trying to break free. The answers continued to wreak havoc on her emotional state of being. She didn’t have time to conjure up any more unsettling questions before he returned.
“I made you some chamomile tea.” He set down the steaming mug and took a seat close to her hip. In his hand, he held a small first aid kit.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
He reached up, and she drew back, sucking the air between her teeth as his fingertip grazed a tender spot above her left eye.
“You’re the one who tried to fight a seven-foot tree,” he teased.
“I was trying to save a bird’s nest.”
He nodded. “I know.” When he lifted his hand to clean the cut, she tried not to flinch. After all, how many scrapes had she cleaned of Danielle’s when their mother confined herself to her room for a full year after their father left?
“You should heal in no time,” Ayden said, his warm breath skimming across her chafed cheeks. Despite the dangers, she relished the intimate moment, he taking his time to place a small butterfly bandage over her eyebrow.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked in a low and husky tone.
She smiled. “I’m okay.”
He blinked his dark lashes, his gaze narrowing, as if waiting for her to add something more to the conversation.
“Thanks…for…you know, keeping me…alive…in the truck,” she said, unsure of what to even call what he’d done for her.
He sent her a lazy wink, and she glanced away. It was getting harder and harder to pretend she didn’t feel some attraction to him. Forget the forbidden emotional part of their relationship; the physical aspects consisted of two kisses, one of them under some mistletoe with an elderly couple cheering them with romantic enthusiasm.
“Well,” she said, lifting herself. “This has been an adventure, but we’ve lost time trying to find Danielle.” She pushed the blankets away and shifted her feet toward the floor.
He shook his head, bending down to urge her legs back onto the mattress and to throw the covers back over her. “Not today.”
“But—”
“Grace, I have two of the most…meddlesome, yet intelligent, men I know looking for Danielle. You need to rest.”
“But—”
“Say but one more time.”
She opened her mouth and then slammed it shut when he lifted his fingers to unbutton his shirt. When he dropped his hand back to his side, she tried not to appear too disappointed.
“You need to rest, and since you’re too stubborn to listen, I’m going to make sure you do exactly what I say.” His mouth lifted into a crooked grin as he unlaced his boots and pushed them off next to the nightstand.
“What…what are you doing?” She knew exactly what he was doing, she just couldn’t believe it.
Although she thought about protesting, she didn’t have the energy or the inclination to deny him. She did, however, have to put up some sort of fight, even if it was a verbal one. “I’m not sure abou
t all the other women you’ve bedded, Mr. McCabe; however, I’m positive none of them did much resting with you next to them.”
This time, he laughed, sliding into bed and reaching over to cocoon her in a muscular embrace, her back pressed firmly to his chest and torso.
“For one, you read too many historical novels, and two, I don’t bed women, I make love to them.”
Heat spread like wildfire from her toes to ears. “God, how did I know you were going to say that,” she mumbled, her insides tumbling over the thought of him making love…to her.
After a few moments wrapped inside his arms, and reliving their kisses once again, he gave her another command. “Grace, you need to relax.”
“Relax,” she said, mocking him. “Right.”
He chuckled and pulled the hair from her neck, his steady breath soothing on her nape and earlobe.
“I’m not usually this helpless, you know,” she said, her gaze focused on the wall and the shadows growing larger and closer to the bed.
“I think you’re too hard on yourself. It’s okay to be dependent on someone once in a while.”
Funny, Grace thought. Her friend Betsy said that to her at least once a week. With a bachelor’s degree in psychology from Seattle University, Betsy counseled Grace, without charge, on her pathetic relationship with Rick and her impractical responsibility for her sister and mother.
“You need to break away, find a real man, and live your own damn life,” Betsy would say and then make up insane scenarios on how to go about doing it. Grace’s favorite scheme, so far, was Betsy signing her up for a mail-order bride advertisement from some ranch in Montana. Not that Grace had anything against cowboys, she just couldn’t imagine marrying someone she barely knew.
Then again, as she lay in Ayden’s arms, Grace wondered if time had anything to do with how well a couple knew one another. Regarding Ayden—in less than twenty-four hours, she knew how he liked his coffee and his women.
Chapter Eleven
Ayden brought Grace closer, cursing himself for being so careless as to expose her to the elements when she’d never lived in such extreme conditions before. So caught up in her presence, he wanted her with him today for selfish reasons. He’d lost his focus, and Grace ended up hurt because of it. He’d be wise, for both their sakes, not to forget why she was here and why he was helping her.
In Mistletoe Page 9