Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Kait Nolan

  Harrison stirred, pushing himself up enough to look down at her. He held there for a long moment, and Ivy felt the weight of his stare down to her bones.

  “I’ll be right back.” He rolled off and went to take care of the essentials.

  Ivy stared at the ceiling, her throat dry. This whole encounter was more than she’d bargained for. Beyond the mind-numbing pleasure—and holy shit, he was amazing—there was a gravity to what they’d just done that shook her. Everything about him had been so wholly unexpected and she didn’t know exactly what to do about it. About them. If there was a them.

  He came back up the stairs, bottled waters in hand. Twisting the cap off one, he handed it over.

  Ivy guzzled down half.

  “I really hope you were at a good stopping point in the outline,” he said, sipping at his own bottle. “Because I’m not letting you out of this bed.”

  As threats went, it was one she could absolutely get behind. Her body hummed at the erotic glint in his eyes. His shields were up again. Apparently, he was intent on ignoring the weight of this thing between them. He knew it was there. She’d seen it in his face, unguarded as they’d made love—because nothing about what they’d done had been just sex. But he wasn’t ready to meet her there yet. This was more than she’d expected, more than she’d planned, as he was more. So she wouldn’t make the mistake she’d made before of sharing her observations too soon.

  Because it was what he seemed to want, she dug deep to find some levity. She met his gaze over the bottle. “This whole interlude gives ‘Thank you for your service’ a whole new meaning. I don’t think I’ve ever been serviced quite so well.”

  He snorted out a laugh and flopped into bed beside her. “Happy to oblige.” The hand he laid high on her thigh told her he’d be happy to oblige again. “So were you at a good stopping point in your outline?”

  She finished off the water and set the bottle to the side, intent on freeing her hands to touch him again. “Good enough. I poured out the lion’s share of that first rush. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, how they’d fit together.”

  Her gaze traced the coat of arms tattoo on his biceps. She hadn’t really noticed it before. The shield held a sun, a star, and a lightning bolt and told her without a word that he was an Airborne Ranger, part of the Army’s seventy-fifth regiment. Special Forces. No wonder he hadn’t thought a thing about repelling down a snowy mountainside.

  “I thought you didn’t write romance.”

  “Not as a focus, but relationships add stakes and depth to a story, not to mention verisimilitude and a great vehicle for change. Seeing a closed off character open up because of love is incredibly satisfying as a reader. I don’t think either of them will have the necessary vulnerability to impact each other without it. And I think you were exactly right. Michael is afraid of caring about her, of what he’d do for her.”

  The hand on her thigh clenched for just a moment before relaxing. “There’s not much more than love that’ll send a man straight into hell. Whether it’s love of a woman or love of a brother.”

  She wondered what hell he’d walked through and for whom.

  Laying a hand on his chest, Ivy trailed her fingers over the ridges and planes, gratified at the way his breath quickened. Several scars added character to that beautiful body. She didn’t avoid them, but didn’t pay any undue attention either. She had no trouble imagining a knife fight or Harrison hunkered down with his men, taking fire from insurgents. But she wouldn’t ask him about any of that. Not now. Still, her curiosity was more than piqued. They’d been as intimate as two people could be, but she still knew next to nothing about him.

  “Tell me something real about you.”

  “Something real?”

  “Yeah. Like—I don’t know—what was your first car? The name of your dog growing up? When did you lose your virginity?”

  “An ’88 Oldsmobile, Buster, and Mandy Gilcrest, in the back of that Oldsmobile on graduation night.”

  “I suppose a land yacht would be handy for backseat space. My granddaddy had one of those. That thing was freaking huge. You could fit a whole side of beef in the trunk.”

  “They don’t make ’em like that anymore, that’s for sure.” His tone held the kind of affection only men seemed to hold for vehicles.

  Okay, she really didn’t want to talk about cars. She wanted to talk about him. “Tell me something else.”

  His fingers traced patterns on her back. “Just ask.”

  A hundred questions leapt to her lips, but she held them back. She didn’t want to ruin this by voicing any of the ones she really wanted to know. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Little town in Washington, near the coast. What about you?”

  “Well, as I said, I was a preacher’s kid, so we moved a lot. Most of my childhood was in South Alabama at varying distances from Mobile. Mom, Dad, sister.”

  “You’re the oldest.”

  “I’m the oldest,” she confirmed.

  Leaning up, she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek. “What’s this really from?”

  “Coffee mug. It was Mother’s Day and I was six. I’d made her breakfast. Which was really a bowl of cereal with an orange. But I’d watched her make coffee every day of my life, so I made some of that. Probably got the ratio of grounds to water all kinds of wrong, but I was so damned proud I’d managed the machine. I was in a rush, trying to get it all done before she woke up, so I could surprise her, and I tripped as I was carrying it to the tray on the kitchen table. The mug crashed to the floor and I hit right after. Landed right on one of the pieces of the mug. So instead of the nice relaxing morning I’d planned for her, we spent it in the ER getting stitches.”

  But he’d tried. She liked knowing that even when he was little, he’d tried to do something to take care of his mom. She liked, too, that not all of his scars were from his military service.

  “Y’all are tight?”

  “Yeah. It was just us growing up.” He didn’t elaborate and Ivy didn’t press.

  Because she wasn’t sure she could hold back the rest of the questions she wanted to ask and because she didn’t want to screw this up, Ivy decided the best course of action for them both was distraction. Sitting up, she swung a leg over his and shifted to straddle him. “Are you done with your water?”

  Arching a brow, he drained the last of his bottle and tossed it.

  “Good. Because as my current muse, I think I should get to study this body for research, and round one was all about you studying mine.”

  He grinned and sat up, running his hands down her back. “It’s my new favorite subject.”

  The position made it more than clear he’d had enough time to recover. Digging for some control, she shoved him back. Or tried. He didn’t budge an inch. “Lay back down and be a good test subject so I can take some notes. With my mouth.”

  Harrison dropped back, arms spread wide. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter 10

  They made love and talked and made love again until eventually starvation drove them to the kitchen, where they devoured the leftover French toast, still cold, before hitting the shower, where they had each other again. With each kiss, each caress, each climax, Harrison felt a few more layers of armor peel back—his and hers. They spoke of everything and nothing. Ivy told him about her childhood, of moving often, just when she’d really settled into a place.

  “It made me rootless, I guess.” She sprawled in his lap after their shower, wearing nothing but his shirt and a satisfied smile, her fingers tracing patterns on his nape.

  Harrison stroked the wet hair back from her face. “Wouldn’t your family have been your roots?”

  “I mean, they were. They did their best. But I’ll never get to go ‘home’ for holidays. I don’t have one house I grew up in with all these built-up memories. I don’t really have childhood best friends that I stayed close to. I learned never to get attached to places—or people either, really. I had to learn to apprecia
te the moment.”

  Was that what this was for her? Was that why she was able to throw herself into an unplanned affair with such enthusiasm? Harrison didn’t like the idea that she already had her eye on the end of things. He hadn’t been looking for this, hadn’t planned for it, but he couldn’t imagine walking away from her after today and never seeing her again. He didn’t know exactly what this was beyond the first real connection he’d felt in years, but he wasn’t ready to let her go. And that scared the shit out of him.

  He tightened his arms around her and opened his mouth to say—he didn’t know what. But his undoubtedly ill-advised honesty was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Ivy tensed. “Expecting someone?”

  “No. No one knows I’m here except my friend, Porter. It’s his cabin.” But surely he hadn’t come all the way out here in all this snow. Unless it had melted while they were otherwise occupied? He slid Ivy off his lap and buttoned his jeans.

  Though no one could see in through the blinds, she tugged down the tails of his flannel shirt. “I’m just gonna zip up to the loft and get pants.”

  Harrison scooped up his discarded t-shirt and waited until she’d disappeared behind the half-wall to open the door. This was gonna be fun to explain to his buddy.

  But it wasn’t Porter on the porch. A broad-shouldered guy with a badge pinned to his thick winter coat stood in the doorway. “Harrison Wilkes?”

  He shifted his weight, instinctively blocking the man’s view inside. “Yeah?”

  “I’m Sheriff Xander Kincaid. A friend of Porter’s. He asked me to check on you since I was doing patrols on this side of the county.”

  “Oh.” Harrison relaxed a notch. “Well, I’m fine. I’ve got the generator going and plenty of supplies.”

  “He’ll be relieved to know you made it okay. Not everybody did. We had a guest expected at the inn in town. It’s looking like she went over the side a little over a mile from here. One of my deputies is waiting on some of our search and rescue guys to go down and check the wreckage, but we don’t have a lot of hope, not after how cold it got last night.” The other man’s face was set in preparation for facing the grim reality of body retrieval.

  “Chevy Blazer?”

  The sheriff’s eyes sharpened. “Yeah. Did you see something on your way up here?”

  Harrison glanced back at the loft, where Ivy was making her way down the narrow staircase. “I’m happy to report you won’t be notifying any next of kin. The driver’s right here.” He stepped back, opening the door fully.

  Xander stepped inside, going brows up as he caught sight of Ivy, who still wore Harrison’s flannel shirt. “Ivy Blake?”

  “Guilty. I take it you found my truck.”

  “Yeah, just a bit ago. I—” His gaze skimmed over her in quick assessment. “You weren’t hurt?”

  Ivy lifted a hand to the cut on her temple. “Not badly. A few scrapes. Some bruises. Harrison found me about an hour after I went through the rail. He’s the one who got me out.”

  The sheriff’s gaze swung to him. “By yourself?”

  Harrison shrugged. “Nobody else around at the time.”

  “Damn. Let me just say we’re all glad you came by. And you, Miss Blake, are a very lucky woman to have made it out of that wreck alive and in one piece. Pru will be so relieved. She was worried sick when you didn’t show yesterday.”

  “Pru?” Harrison asked.

  “My sister-in-law. She and her husband and my wife run The Misfit Inn where Miss Blake has reservations.”

  “I’m sorry about not calling. My phone was toast in the wreck, the cabin doesn’t have a phone, and we haven’t ventured out in the snow to try to find a signal.”

  Xander turned back to Ivy. “It’s spotty around here anyway. Listen, I’m not sure what we can do about your vehicle before everything thaws, but I can take you back into town, drop you at the inn. The local doctor will absolutely come by to check you out.”

  Harrison bit back the urge to say she was fine exactly where she was. All day they’d avoided the topic of going into town. But this was it—the big intrusion of the outside world. Their intimate little bubble had been broken.

  His mind raced, trying to figure out some way to suggest she stay with him. For all he’d thought he wanted to be alone, he’d found he didn’t. He wanted to be with her. She’d proved to be a better distraction from his shit than anything else. Not just because of the sex—though that was fantastic—but just because of…her. She kept him in the now, pulled him back when he began to slip. And beyond all that, he’d enjoyed the hell out of her company. She was interesting. Working with her brainstorming her plot was the most legitimate fun he’d had in ages. He wanted to tell her about his own work and maybe talk through what it was he needed to do with his own plot problems. Was it weird that he’d waited this long to bring it up?

  Despite all of it, he didn’t speak. It wasn’t fair of him to ask her to stay. She’d had a plan before the wreck interrupted it. She had a life she probably needed to get back to, details to sort out. Hell, there were probably other people she really should call to notify that she was okay. He was…just a break. A distraction for her. That was all they could be to each other.

  “Actually, Sheriff, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stay here. Harrison and I were going to go into town later on, once the roads were more clear, so I can take care of some business.”

  She wanted to stay. Here. With him. Relief had the tension draining out of his muscles so fast he dropped back to lean against the arm of the sofa. He crossed his arms as if he’d done it on purpose.

  Xander divided a speculative look between them. “If you’re sure.”

  Ivy’s lips curved into an easy smile. “I’m sure.”

  “All right. I’ll let Pru know.”

  Harrison followed Xander to the door. “If you’ll just tell Porter I’ll be in touch next time I make it to town?”

  “Sure can. Y’all take care.” With one last look at Ivy, the sheriff nodded and headed out.

  Harrison stood at the window, watching him back a big ass Bronco up the drive. The tires slipped and slid a little in the snow, but he made it onto the road with less trouble than Harrison would’ve expected. Over the course of the day, it appeared the snow had finally stopped. But for the fresh tracks behind his Jeep, nothing interrupted their winter wonderland.

  “Harrison?”

  He swung around. “Yeah?”

  The casual smile she’d shot at Xander was gone. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I shouldn’t have sent him off without actually talking to you first. Is this really okay? Me staying? I mean, I made an assumption after—” She waved a hand between the two of them. “But you know what they say about assumptions.”

  Wanting to put her at ease, he crossed the room sliding his arms around her. “It’s so okay.” He dropped a quick, soft kiss to her lips before resting his brow against hers. “I wanted you to stay. But I couldn’t figure out how to ask without putting you on the spot.”

  Her face brightened. “Really?”

  “Really.” He laced his fingers at the small of her back and grinned. “How else am I gonna find out how Annika and Michael get together before anybody else?”

  She tugged back just enough to look him in the face with narrowed, laughing eyes. “Harrison Wilkes, are you a closet romantic?”

  He didn’t know, but this woman had sure as hell made his heart start beating again. And he was pretty sure he liked it.

  “I don’t wanna.” Ivy grimaced at the new, pre-paid cell phone she’d picked up at the little general store.

  Across the table of their booth in Crystal’s Diner, Harrison picked up his grilled mac and cheese sandwich. “You can’t avoid her forever.”

  “I don’t know. I feel like you know all about how to go off the grid. You could help me disappear.” He’d done a damned fine job of it so far.

  For forty-eight glorious hours, she’d put everything but him
out of her mind. They’d talked and debated and plotted, between playing in the snow like children and feeding their insatiable appetites for each other. It was the world’s best entirely unplanned vacation from her life. She felt energized, recharging with him in a way she hadn’t since her whole crazy author career began.

  But by the third day, the guilt had started niggling her. The sheriff’s visit had reminded her that there was a life outside the four walls of the little cabin. She’d never been out of contact this long before. There were people she really ought to check in with in the real world, to let them know where she was and that she was okay. Plus they’d run out of condoms—even the two long strips that one of her friends had stuck in the side pocket of her bag as a party favor from Deanna’s Thank God I’m Divorced party last summer. And wouldn’t Jasmine be shouting a “You go girl!” for Ivy having pulled that off?

  So they’d driven into Eden’s Ridge to take care of necessary business. Arrangements had been made with Thompson’s Garage to retrieve her Blazer from the side of the mountain. Not that anybody was under a delusion that it wasn’t totaled, but they couldn’t just leave it there. Willie Thompson, a grizzled old guy in overalls and a black trucker cap proclaiming “Good Guys Wear White,” was totally going in a book someday. They’d done some shopping and finally ended up having lunch at the diner.

  The call with her parents had gone fine. She’d downplayed the wreck and glossed over her current lodging situation. The preacher’s daughter did not want to admit she was cozily and intimately shacked up with her rescuer. But she hadn’t been able to force herself to call Marianne, even though she’d probably already booked a plane ticket to carry out her threat to hunt Ivy down if she didn’t hear from her by—oh hell—yesterday.

  “I could. But it would get to you eventually. Whether that’s before or after she tracks you down is up for debate. So suck it up and get it over with, Blake.”

  Ivy winced. “Marianne’s going to kill me.”

  “If she doesn’t grant you an automatic extension for having been in a life-threatening wreck a few days ago, she’s not human.”