“Oh, it is. Trust me, the only casing I’m going into is the Spanx in my closet.” She turned back to the door. “Freezing is the far superior option.”
“Or—and hear me out on this one—we could put down the poker and play poker instead. I saw a deck of cards in the lobby.”
“Lobby is too generous.” With a sigh, she sat next to him, still holding the fire poker.
Rick straightened because it was hard to pretend to be relaxed when her hip was mere inches from his own.
The door banged open, revealing Carl in all his glory with an armful of towels, and Rick had the absolute wonder of finding himself with Lana jumping three feet in the air like a startled cat, landing on his lap. A frightened Lana didn’t scream, and her hair was in his face so he couldn’t see hers, but Rick had the feeling she had placed herself in between the threat and him for the second time that night.
A warm feeling of amusement filled him. Still, he wanted to show Lana that he didn’t need her protection. Not from Carl anyway. Silas…possibly. The solid weight of her on his lap? Definitely. But not from Carl and his towels.
Rick wrapped his arm tight around her waist, then shifted her over enough so he could see.
“That was unexpected,” he said. “Maybe try knocking next time?”
“These are towels.” Carl stared at them, not blinking.
Yes. Yes, they were.
“Ma said we turn the lights out at nine. I put the other set in the other room.”
“There were dolls,” Rick told him. “We only need this one.”
If Carl cared, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, he grumbled all the way back to the door, then slammed it shut.
“How did he walk so quiet on the floor out there, but now he’s making so much noise?” Lana asked in a whisper.
“You probably couldn’t hear him because of the sausage grinder.”
Lana shuddered. “Rick, I think we should leave.”
“In the snowstorm?”
“We’re going to be made into sausage. I’d make a terrible sausage. Do you know how much body fat percentage I have? Because sausages are supposed to be twenty-five percent, and I have at least twenty-eight percent. Maybe more. I’m probably closer to thirty, because these things are not pure muscle.”
When she stuffed a thumb into her breast and poked it a few times for emphasis, Rick’s brain tried very hard not to notice.
“How do you know the fat content of sausage?”
“Everyone knows that, Rick. Everyone knows.” Her voice was taking a panicked tone, which would have been more alarming if her thumb had changed places. But nope. Still poking, giving her a somewhat squashy lopsided appearance on that side.
He’d never been aroused by a squashed breast before, especially not when the owner of said breast was frightened, but Rick was only human, and she was…well…in that dress. On his lap. And it had been a long time since his lap had entertained anything other than a cereal bowl or his cat’s abject disapproval.
“You’d make an even worse sausage,” she continued, “Because let’s be honest, you don’t have an ounce of fat on your body. Which would be sexier if I didn’t think it was because you don’t eat enough. That’s probably my fault. I’m charging you way too much rent, and you can’t afford to eat, and now they won’t make you into sausage, and you’ll probably end up strips of Rick jerky covered with too much pepper or not enough teriyaki and—”
Okeydokey. Watching her have a mild coronary event was not in the plan for this date. Rick took her hands so she stopped poking a hole in one of the most appealing breasts he’d ever seen.
“Lana, breathe.”
The sausage grinder’s choice to make several loud squealing noises at the time did not help his case. Her eyes widened, so Rick pulled her in closer.
“I can afford to feed myself,” Rick said. “Rent’s high because rent’s always high in Alaska. No one is making jerky out of me, and they’re definitely not going to make sausage out of you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because even I don’t have bad enough luck for that to happen on the first date I’ve been on in years.” Rick wondered if it was too much to ask that she keep leaning into him like that. “But…on the off chance that we are actually in a slasher movie, what’s the plan here?”
“That’s not funny,” Lana said with a cute pout.
“I wasn’t joking.”
Yes, he was totally joking, but it took her a moment to realize it. Then she grinned. Not the breezy smile he hated—the one covering what she really thought and felt—but her real smile. The one that made his blood sing in his veins.
Slender fingers reached up to touch his cheek, and Rick found himself leaning into the contact. “The plan is we’ll take over the dining room and set up our defensive perimeter,” Lana said conspiratorially. “With a squirrel army at our backs, we’ll definitely last until morning.”
“As long as one of us knows what they’re doing.” Rick winked at her.
Silence fell between them, a silence where Rick desperately wanted to say the right thing, but all he could focus on was how good her hair smelled and how soft it felt brushing along his arm.
“I haven’t really done this whole dating thing in a while,” he admitted in a rough voice. “It’s like being benched for forever and abruptly finding yourself up to bat with bases loaded.”
“If you’re going to make sports analogies, I much prefer football. And trust me, as far as my dates go, this is much better than most.”
“Are we still calling this a date?”
“Huddled together for safety in a hotel of horrors?” Lana asked, her bright eyes full of mischief. “Absolutely.”
Her lashes were long enough to brush her cheeks. How had he never noticed before?
“My last actual date was with a masseuse last July,” she said. “It wasn’t much to speak of.”
“I haven’t kissed a woman since my ex. I probably don’t even remember how.”
“Twelve months.” When he raised an eyebrow, Lana clarified. “It’s been twelve months since I kissed someone. Last New Year’s.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“It wasn’t even one of the good kisses. Too much teeth, not enough…not teeth.”
“Not teeth is important when kissing.”
“And yet someone never told him.” Sighing with playful dramatics, she rested her palm against his stomach. “If I had known it would be so long, I might have tried to enjoy it more.”
A comfortable silence fell between them, but that silence was punctuated by the metal of the roof creaking as it contracted in the freezing temperatures.
“The rest of me is fine, but my fingers simply refuse to warm up.”
“Body heat is better than thin blankets,” he said.
“And evil sausage grinders?”
“You’re the one who thought this would make a great story.” Rick chuckled.
“Story, yes. For grandchildren and the like. Not to be on the local news. I can see it now. Two new lovers found ground to death in squirrel mausoleum. Try the stroganoff. The mystery meat is delicious.”
Rick gently squeezed her waist. “Will it help if I promise I won’t let anyone chop us up to bits?”
“It won’t hurt.” She sighed, then snuggled into his shoulder. “Rick?”
“Hmm?”
“This was the best date I’ve ever been on.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m completely serious.” Brown eyes gazed up at him. “Do you want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you cared enough to keep driving.”
Beauty was more than skin deep. Beauty was a kind heart and hands willing to help, no matter how dirty they got. Beauty was a quick grin and eyes that noticed everyone in
a room. Noticed and cared about everyone, no matter who they were.
Eyes that saw him, when he’d been sitting in the background of his life for far too long.
“Can I—” Pausing midquestion, Rick cleared his throat. Bless the woman for not making him finish his sentence. Lana nodded in encouragement.
Heart hammering in his chest, breath caught in his lungs, Rick leaned in. He wasn’t sure what he expected…maybe a slap to the face, despite her arm wrapped around the back of his neck. Instead, he found soft lips, warm despite the cool air. Just the slightest of pressure, his mouth to hers. Pulling away, Rick glanced at her.
“See? I promised I wouldn’t bite.”
“Not yet anyway. I’m sorry.” Lana nodded, kind enough not to mock him for his trembling hands. “Guess I need some more practice.”
“Or more time?” she asked gently.
“No. I’ve had more than enough of time.”
It had been too long since Rick had taken a woman in his arms, holding her close. And he never would have expected this woman to be the one. He felt outclassed, outmatched, and beyond overwhelmed. But when he slid his palm up her back, Lana leaned against him, melting into his touch. When his fingers threaded into her hair, the silky strands clinging to his wrist, this time, she kissed him.
Deepening the kiss, Rick relaxed back against the bedding, drawing her with him. The scent of her subtle perfume was almost as intoxicating as the warmth of her body beneath his hands. He could have stayed like this forever, her ankle hooked around his, her arm hugging his rib cage, as if she needed to hold him as much as he needed to hold her. Each touch of her lips against his was even better than the last.
Abruptly, Lana started to giggle.
“Should I ask?” Rick’s murmured question earned another—even better—giggle from her.
“I just think it’s funny that I got you into bed so fast. You give off a certain ‘hard to catch’ vibe.”
“Says the date who wouldn’t let me walk her to her elevator.”
“I’m hard to catch too.” Lana flashed him a pretty grin. “Takes an impressive person to pull it off. Besides, the ‘hey baby’ rules are different.”
For a guy who had spent an inordinate amount of his life feeling like he wasn’t quite enough, this woman could make him feel pretty damn great.
“I didn’t ‘hey baby’ you,” Rick reminded her, earning a peal of laughter as he rolled over onto his side, tickling her ribs as he pulled her close. “I’m much too debonair for that.”
“You totally hey baby’d me.”
“Can you blame me?”
She was still giggling when he kissed her neck, then her earlobe, then her lips one more time. Then Rick relaxed into the bedding, because she was right. Rick wasn’t hard to catch, but he also didn’t jump into something this fast. Not even with a woman he wanted this much. Rick didn’t want either one of them to regret anything tomorrow.
At some point, they’d have to get ready for bed. He’d probably have to go find Carl and see if they could get some toothpaste at least. Or maybe a pack of gum. Someone at some point would have to pee.
But right now? Rick wasn’t going to move a muscle, not if he could help it.
He loved the way her fingers felt threaded through his fingers. Better still was her nose pressing against his bicep. Did his armpit smell? Had he put on too little deodorant? Too much? Rick had more than his share of getting shit wrong, but it was impossible to miss the way she snuggled in.
Damn, how much he wanted to be just right, just this once.
“Rick?”
“Yeah?” The single word came out rougher, quieter. Whatever she said, he’d be okay with it. She’d already given him more than he could have hoped for, and the rock his heart had become was already softening.
If this was over, it would be enough.
“I have to pee.”
Yep. Someone always had to pee.
“You want me to guard the door, don’t you?” he asked in amusement as he sat up, already missing the pressure of her skin to his.
“Would you mind?” Lana asked. “This is the hotel of horrors after all.”
“As long as you lead the way.” He winked at her, earning a rosy blush to her cheeks.
Waiting for her to use the shared bathroom wasn’t a big deal. When the lights went out and they returned from the bathroom to find the squirrel in her nightdress back on the windowsill, that was fine too. They ended up spending the night in his car, doors locked and their blankets wrapped around them as she kept a hand on the fireplace poker, ready to protect them both. Up until Lana fell asleep and dropped the poker. She drooled on his shoulder, the snow falling across the windshield like her hair across his chest, their fingers intertwined against his stomach.
It was the best date of Rick’s life too.
Chapter 9
The trick to keeping warm in a car out in the snow without dying of carbon monoxide poisoning was to roll down the windows a tiny bit and only run the engine for a few minutes intermittently.
Which meant Rick hadn’t slept very much. Lana was curled into Rick’s shoulder, a deep enough sleeper that once she was out, turning the car on never bothered her. And if he kept it on a little longer than he should have, well, he didn’t want her to get cold.
Rick had been dozing when Lana shifted, her nose pressing into his bicep. Then she raised her head, woken by the sound of the snowplow going past on the road next to the parking lot. It wasn’t the first plow to come through, but Rick hadn’t wanted to wake her.
Having her cuddled into his side was far too pleasant for such mundane things as getting safely home.
“Good morning,” she said, blinking sleepily. Eyelashes long enough to brush her cheeks left his brain utterly incapable of coherent thought. “Hmm, that was very unfair of me to pass out while you were stuck turning the key on the hour.”
“Do I look like I mind?” Rick asked her in an amused voice.
“I suppose we didn’t get made into sausage after all.”
“Speaking of which, do you want to get some breakfast?” Rick nodded toward the B-and-B, a little grin on his face.
“Oh goodness, no.” Lana shuddered at the very idea. “Although I should probably return their poker.”
She picked her weapon of choice off the floor. Even as Lana started to tug her clothes to tidiness, Rick took the fire poker away and opened the door.
“Give me a moment. I’ll be back,” he told her.
When Rick returned a few minutes later, Lana looked far more awake than the sleepy version he’d left.
“How did it go?” she asked as he got into the car.
“I think they’re mad at us for leaving. There were lots of angry sighs.”
“Did you tell them about the squirrel?”
“I told them.”
“The nightmarish squirrel with the nightgown that moves of its own volition?”
“Yep, that squirrel.”
When he handed over a small takeout container, Lana brightened. “Ooh, muffins.”
“They’re squirrel muffins.”
“They are not.” Inhaling the scent of blueberries, she took a bite of one of the muffins. “Oh yeah, come to momma.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you if you find a little squirrel ear in there.”
Sighing blissfully, she leaned back in her seat, holding out a piece for him to take. “You can’t ruin this for me, Rick,” she said. “But you’re welcome to try.”
And try he did. For the next fifteen minutes, they drove down freshly cleared roads, still slick with ice, while Lana handed him bites of muffin and Rick thought up every gross thing imaginable that Carl could have put in said muffin.
“So are we doing this?” Lana asked around her last bit of muffin. “The holiday fling with a yet to be determined termina
tion clause?”
“You know how to make a guy’s heart swoon,” Rick said teasingly. “Termination clause?”
“I just like knowing the terms and conditions of my business arrangements. Especially the ones as handsome as you when you’re snoring.”
She gave him an arch look. Damn, it felt good to laugh.
“I’m not the only one who snores, sweetheart.” It was dangerous to pull her in and kiss her while driving, but Rick was feeling risky. “There are worse things than letting yourself have fun on the holidays.”
Lana beamed at him, and this time, she was the one to make the car bobble on the icy roads, her mouth on his.
When his phone rang, Rick was planning on ignoring it, then he saw who was calling on his dashboard. Hitting the Accept Call button, Rick regretfully kept both hands and eyes on the road.
“Hey, Jonah,” he said, hoping this was another Santa Moose call, even though his gut said it wasn’t.
“Rick, I need you to come down to the station.”
The standard self-indulgent tiredness was gone from Jonah’s tone, replaced by a professional seriousness. Instantly, Rick’s chest tightened down.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’ve got Diego here,” Jonah said. “You all are going to need to call a lawyer. If you can’t afford one, he’ll get one appointed by the state.”
“What happened?”
“We’ll talk about it when you get here.”
Jonah had a habit of not actually booking the unruly locals who ended up in some sort of skirmish or another. It took something bad to have him officially take someone into custody.
The roads were still slick, but Rick drove faster than he should have. Halfway back to town, Lana placed her hand on his leg, a silent show of support.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked him.
Covering her hand with his own, Rick shook his head. “I don’t even know what the kid did this time.”
“Has he been arrested before?”
Hesitating, Rick finally answered, “Not in a while. And not without reason.”
Mistletoe and Mr. Right Page 19