I watched as he started stacking wood into a box beside the fireplace. He didn’t glance at me as I sat there, still frozen, fingers curled tightly around the edges of my boot.
I moistened my lips, trying to find my voice as I watched his arms pull and flex beneath a long-sleeved thermal shirt. A light coating of snow dusted his dark hair and shoulders.
The ability to speak finally returned. “What did you do to me?”
He stopped stacking wood, his gaze flying to my face. I sucked in a breath. Everything about him right then, in the full light of morning, was more. More good looking. More masculine. His eyes brighter, more vivid. The fact that he looked pissed didn’t alter the impact in the least. But it made my stomach knot. I squirmed inside at the intensity of his stare.
“I didn’t do anything to you except take care of your drunk ass.”
I swung a finger at the bed. “I woke up in your bed.” I waved an arm. “I assume this is your place.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Did you undress me?”
His jaw locked. “It was that or let you sleep in wet clothes.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “You fell. In the snow. Remember?”
Yeah. I remembered that. And licking him. I remember that with excruciating clarity. “Where did you sleep?”
His mouth curled in a cocky grin at this question. “Where do you think?”
My face burned hotter. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out where he slept. There weren’t any other bedrooms in this cabin.
He turned his attention back to the wood and answered his own question, sounding a little bored all of a sudden. “On the couch.”
I snorted. “Yeah. Right.” I yanked my boot on the rest of the way and stood. “Let me get this straight. You brought me here. Undressed me. And then slept on the couch?”
He shook his head and rose to his full impressive height, towering over me. “You’re unbelievable. You think I’m looking to score with an unconscious girl?” He looked me over slowly, thoroughly, making me achingly aware that I must look a mess with my bed head and rumpled clothes and day-old makeup. I probably looked like a raccoon from mascara smeared under my eyes. “Sweetheart, you’re not that irresistible.”
I inhaled through my nose. Okay. Maybe I’d insulted him, but he definitely came back swinging. “I’m sorry,” I said, not sounding very apologetic and not caring. “Excuse me for panicking at finding myself half naked in a strange bed.”
“Maybe you should pick better friends who don’t bail on you, so that if you get drunk and pass out you won’t wake up in some strange guy’s bed. I mean, that’s just a suggestion.”
Touché. “You’re an asshole.” It was the best I could do.
He smiled again, but there was no mirth in it. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure you have.” I grabbed my coat off the couch and whirled around, marching for the door.
“Where are you going?” he called.
“Home,” I shot back without looking over my shoulder.
“Oh yeah. Cool. How are you going to get there?”
I pulled the door open, stepped out onto the porch, and stopped. The full reality of just how much at his mercy I was washed over me. A winter wonderland stared back at me. The cabin sat back about fifty yards from a frozen lake. Far across the water, I could see other homes and cabins dotting a distant shoreline.
His tread sounded behind me and I whirled around. “Where the hell am I?”
“About half an hour from campus.” He cocked that infuriating eyebrow at me. “Long walk, huh?” He looked down. “And those boots aren’t made for long-distance treks, princess. Especially through snow.”
I bit back my “no shit” response. My hands went to my hips. “How did I end up here? You were supposed to take me to my dorm.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, apparently indifferent to the weather. A cold wind blew, buffeted his shirt against his chest. A well-muscled chest. Lean and hard. I could make out the definition of his pecs and the ridged stomach.
“Now how was I supposed to do that when you passed out and I couldn’t wake you? Oh, and your license has a Connecticut address so no help there. And your phone? Password protected.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him, hating that he was right. I’d done this to myself. It wasn’t his fault. Sure, he was arrogant and rude, but I guess I should thank him and count myself lucky that I didn’t end up with some perv who would take advantage of an unconscious girl. My gaze skimmed him. I couldn’t help it. He was sexy as hell.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
He jerked a hand to his ear as if that could help improve his hearing. “What? What was that? Something semi nice just came out of your mouth? Impossible.”
Seething, I bit out a little louder, “Thank you.” I sucked in a breath and added in a less angry voice, “It was really decent of you to help me out. I’m sorry if I caused you any inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience,” he murmured, smiling.
“Would you please take me home now?”
“Not a problem. I live to help spoiled little Greenwich princesses.”
The way he looked at me said it all. He didn’t think very much of me. The idea stung more than it should have. I was used to guys liking me. At least superficially. And face it, that’s as much as I let them see. I never let them get to the real me, the Em beneath the party girl veneer. Assuming they ever tried. Most were content with simply fooling around. No strings attached.
“This morning, can you tell me where you live—princess? Then I can get on with my day because, believe it or not, I have things to do.”
I bristled. So he thought I led a charmed life . . . that I was a spoiled princess who teased guys by licking them and then passed out like a pathetic drunk. My face burned. I guess he wasn’t that wrong. Except my life was far from charmed.
Not that I was telling him that. Who cared what he thought of me? He could think what he wanted.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to keep you from the things you have to do . . . like plan the next crime wave with your biker gang.”
He grinned again, and I realized he was enjoying this. Me baiting him. Him baiting me. Now that my panic upon waking in a strange place without any clothes on had subsided, I realized I maybe enjoyed it, too.
“Sure. And you don’t want to miss your nail appointment.”
I cocked my head. “That’s tomorrow.”
The sound of his chuckle followed me as I turned and walked off the porch. His truck was unlocked—why wouldn’t it be all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? I yanked open the passenger door and hopped inside.
He climbed in and started the engine. We sat there for a few moments as it warmed up. I stared out at the frozen lake, marveling at the peacefulness of it. I wouldn’t have pictured a place like this as his home. It was . . . nice. Which was weird. He was a biker. Some crapped-out meth house might have been a more accurate image. A stereotype, I knew, but it wasn’t as though he wasn’t stereotyping me.
I slid him a glance. “You live out here long?”
“It was my grandfather’s. He died a year ago and left it to me.”
I quickly faced forward again, my hands squeezing around my knees. It was the first bit of anything real we had exchanged beside taunts, and frankly, it made me uncomfortable. But then he made me uncomfortable. Undeniably. From the first moment I saw him.
“I’m sorry,” I said, because I had to say something. They had been close. The man had left him his house. Obviously they had been close. “About your grandfather.”
He put the truck in reverse and backed out of the property. “He went fishing with a friend, came in, made a sandwich, laid down for a nap, and never woke up. He was eighty-nine. We should all be so lucky.”
I blinked against the illogical burn that suddenly pressed against my eyes. Gazing at the strong line of his profile, I wondered at my sudden surge of emotion. I suppose it came from hearing the love in
his voice for this man who had clearly meant so much to him. And his grandfather had obviously cared for him. I wished I had that. I wished I had someone. Honestly, there was no family member who overly cared whether I lived or died. No one in my family would lose sleep if anything bad happened to me.
“Still . . . I’m sure it’s hard. I’m sure you miss him.”
He glanced at me, but there wasn’t any of the derision I was coming to expect. No cocky half grin. He looked at me curiously, almost as if he was surprised I could say anything kind. “Yeah. It is . . . thanks.”
Nodding, I faced forward again.
He drove us into town with no further conversation. I tucked my hands beneath my thighs and only spoke when we got close to campus, directing him to my dorm.
There wasn’t too much student traffic this early on a Saturday and for that I was glad. Stepping out of his truck in front of my building, no one I knew was around. No one to witness me wearing my clothes from the night before and assume I was getting dropped off after a hookup.
One hand on the door handle, I looked back at him. “Thanks. For everything.”
It was a weird moment. As anxious as I was to make my exit, I knew I’d never see him again. We didn’t move in the same circles. I certainly wasn’t going back to Maisie’s. Realizing that kept me rooted to the spot, staring at him longer than I should. Kind of like I was memorizing him. A guy unlike any other guy I allowed myself to be with.
“Sure.” His eyes looked dark as they held mine. “Stay out of trouble.”
I felt my mouth twist into a smile at the irony of some guy I met in a biker bar telling me to stay out of trouble. “I’ll try. You, too. Don’t get in any more bar fights.”
His eyes glinted. “Yeah? Well, you don’t start any more.”
I laughed once. “Yeah. No worries. That so won’t happen again.”
“Bye, Emerson.”
I closed the door on him and walked to the front door of my dorm. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and ignored that small thread of sensation running through me that told me he was watching.
THE SUITE WAS EMPTY. Not a surprise, but I checked both rooms anyway just to be sure. Pepper had a fabulous new boyfriend. Ever since they’d gotten together she spent most nights at his place. And Georgia had Harris. Not a fabulous boyfriend, in my opinion, but a boyfriend nonetheless.
For once I was glad they weren’t around and I didn’t have to explain where I’d spent the night. I loved them, but they tended to worry about me. They would love nothing more than me putting my wild streak to rest and getting a boyfriend.
Stripping off my clothes, I slid on my robe and grabbed my shower caddy and headed across the hall to the shower, trying not to shudder at the idea of a boyfriend. Boyfriends kind of wanted you to let them in. Among other things. And that so wasn’t happening.
I spent at least half an hour under the hot spray of water before washing my hair and body. I kept thinking about last night. And this morning. Waking in Shaw’s bed. Despite his bad-boy edge, he hadn’t made a move on me. Sure, the invitation had been there when I’d practically straddled him and licked him like candy the night before, but he hadn’t jumped my bones. He hadn’t pushed for more or tried to manipulate the drunk girl. And this morning . . . this morning he just wanted to get rid of me.
Turning off the water, I shook my head and reminded myself not to be offended. It wasn’t like I wanted him.
After drying off, I reached for my robe and slipped it on. The shower rings screeched as I pulled back the curtain. Suzanne stood in front of the mirror brushing her teeth.
“Hey, you!” she mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Hey. How was your date?”
Rolling her eyes, she bent her head and spit in the sink. “Fine until his ex-girlfriend walked into the place with her new boyfriend and then he couldn’t stop staring at them all through dinner. Turns out he took me to her favorite restaurant. Nice, right?”
I winced as I inched toward the door. “What a dick.”
She nodded. “ I would have had more fun going out with you.”
“I’ll remind you of that the next time you ditch me for a date,” I called, halfway through the door.
“Hey!” she called out defensively. “I’d understand if you canceled your plans for a date.”
I snorted. “And why would I ever do that?”
“Oh, someday you will. I just know it! When you meet Mr. Right.” Her words rang out as I headed into the hall.
Suzanne read too many romance novels. She was starting to believe in them. Shaking my head, I entered my room and made quick work of getting dressed. I dried my hair so icicles wouldn’t form when I stepped outside, already knowing exactly where I was headed this morning.
Hair dried and minimally styled, I applied light makeup and pulled on my heavy coat. Tossing a thick scarf around my neck, I slipped on my Uggs.
It was still early enough that not too many people were up and about. I made a beeline across campus for the Java Hut, hoping the caffeine would help my aching head. My stomach grumbled the instant I entered the popular campus coffee shop. It was practically impossible to get a seat during the week. At the moment the line was relatively short, only two people in front of me. Sorority girls from the looks of them and the Greek letters emblazoned on their butts.
One of the baristas spotted me. “Hey, Emerson!”
He was familiar. I think I fooled around with him at a party last semester.
“Hey!” My gaze flicked to his name badge. “Jeff.”
He grabbed a cup from the stack. Pen in hand, he scribbled my name on the cup. “What do you have?”
“Cappuccino.”
The girls in front of me shot me a not-so-nice look, clearly not appreciating my drink order coming before theirs.
The cashier shot them an apologetic look and started to punch the keys until Jeff stalled her with a hand on her arm. “I got this,” he murmured while sending me a wink.
The cashier shook her head and turned to the two sorority girls. “What can I get for you?”
With a last withering glare for me, they stepped up and ordered.
I smiled weakly at Jeff. “You didn’t have to do that.” Really, I wished that he hadn’t.
“I wanted to.” He shrugged. “Small perk of the job. Buying a drink for a cute girl.”
“Thanks,” I said, because at this point it would cause more of a scene to resist.
“So how’ve you been? You have a good holiday?” he asked as he began frothing milk for my drink.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Awesome. Went skiing. My uncle just bought a place in Vermont. Only a few hours from here. Lets me use it anytime. You ski? You should come with me one weekend before the snow melts. There’s a hot tub.” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and I knew just what he was imagining we could do in that hot tub.
“Um. Maybe.”
“Cool. You still got my number?”
Had I ever had it? I nodded.
“Well, don’t be afraid to use it.” He sealed the lid on my cup, and leaned across the counter toward me, bracing his hands on the marble. “You didn’t call me back when I called you last time.”
I accepted the cup, fidgeting with the edge of the cardboard sleeve uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Most guys were happy with a fling. Sometimes they called, but they never cornered me about it like this when I didn’t call them back.
He winked and held up both hands. “Hey, it’s cool. I’ll call you later.”
I smiled and nodded like that would be good. “Thanks for the drink.”
Turning, I walked across the wood floor, sipping from my steaming cup. I’d meant to order a muffin, too, but no way was I turning around for another dose of awkward.
Stepping outside, I tugged my soft scarf high against my chin and turned in the direction of the art building.
“Em!”
Looking up, I watched as Georgia trott
ed across the street, tugging Harris after her.
“Hey,” I greeted her.
“Hi,” she replied in her sultry Alabama accent, cheeks flushed from the cold. “What’s up? Where you headed?”
“I’m going to work in the studio.”
She nodded. “What’d you end up doing last night?”
I hesitated. Now would be the moment to tell her that Annie ditched me, but then that would lead to the topic of how I got home . . . and where I spent the night.
I settled for: “Went out with Annie.”
Georgia pulled a face, revealing just how little she thought of Annie.
“Bet ya’ll had fun.” Harris looked me up and down, his lip curling ever so slightly, and I wanted to kick him. I knew he thought I was a slut. Annie, too. I could read his dirty thoughts as he considered me. He was probably picturing Annie and me taking on half the football team or something. Judgy little bastard. I didn’t get why Georgia didn’t see it. I guess she was blinded by the fact that they’d been together since her sophomore year of high school. I knew his type though. He was happy to keep his pretty girlfriend, but he was always looking at other girls . . . leering at me. I had no evidence of him cheating, but I’d be surprised if he didn’t enjoy the offerings to be had at one of his fraternity parties when Georgia wasn’t around.
Georgia buried her hands in her front coat pockets and rocked on her heels. “Well, what are you doing tonight?”
I shrugged. “No plans yet.”
“Pepper mentioned a party.”
“We have that dinner party, Georgia, remember?” Harris reminded her.
She angled her head, frowning. “No.”
“At the home of my dad’s friend. The president of First National Bank, remember? I’m hoping to intern there.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. One look at her face and I knew she wasn’t interested in going.
“I can go alone, but I told you about it a month ago, Georgia.” He paused, letting that sink in. “They’re expecting me to bring a date.”
She nodded. “No, of course. I’ll go. I said I would.”
I took a long sip of my cappuccino, further committed to the idea of staying single as I observed their little byplay. I wondered how much longer Georgia could tolerate him, and then reminded myself it had already been four years. Some habits were hard to break—including, it seemed, a sucky relationship.
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