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“We can always turn back,” Rhett says.
“After you parted with all that money? Never!”
Rhett shakes his head and starts down. I’m on his heels, but it’s rough going. About halfway down, I misjudge a step and stumble, slipping on slick ice. I try to catch myself, kicking up snow and throwing ice, but it’s too late. Suddenly I’m skidding down the hill on my ass. It’s not too bad until I plow directly into Rhett and take him down on top of me.
He falls with a shout and tries to stop us, but I’ve built up too much momentum. We half slide, half fall down the hill in a flurry of snow and limbs. When we finally come to a rest in a panting jumble, my bag is still wrapped around me and I don’t have any broken bones. I’m not sure about anything else.
Then I realize Rhett’s head is between my thighs.
His face isn’t exactly pressed into my crotch but it’s pretty damn close. We both realize it at the same time. I lunge forward, Rhett jerks backward, and there’s a lot of scrambling to untangle our limbs and stand. In a moment we’re twelve feet apart, covered in snow, and wearing mirroring expressions of accusation and embarrassment.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I slipped and—”
We both start and stop at the same time. We’re also both red-faced and for once it has nothing to do with the cold.
“Let’s just go inside,” Rhett mutters dropping his gaze. Digging the key from his pocket, he trudges toward the shack. He fiddles a bit before pushing the door open, and I follow him inside.
It’s cold; there’s definitely no heat. But it’s still warmer than it is outside. That’s where the positives end. The room is small and bare. There’s no bathroom or sink. And there’s only one bed.
We’re both silent looking at the bed. Then we look at each other.
“If you bring this to HR I’m going to fight it,” Rhett states.
“If you think I’m ever going to speak about this day, you’re crazy,” I say.
Then without another word, I walk to the far side of the bed, kick off my boots, throw back the quilts, and get in, winter coat and all. I pull my hood up over my head and snuggle deep into the covers. Everything is cold. The blankets. My clothes. Me.
I don’t acknowledge Rhett shuffling around or when he finally gets into bed. But I can’t ignore the feel of his body heat emanating through the blankets. The radiating warmth is all that’s needed to activate my exhaustion. My last thought as I fall asleep is that we really should put a pillow between us.
CHAPTER SIX
RHETT
My dreams are soft and happy. I’m content, warm. The air smells fresh and exciting. There are flashes of faces, a jolt of emotion or two, and daylight in arching rays. I don’t remember much more than that as I’m lifted out of unconsciousness.
With my eyes still closed, my first real thought is that I need to turn my heat up. It’s pretty cold in here. Where was I last night? Who did I come home with?
An image of Liz in the headlights on a dark country road. A shared laugh and a burst of yearning that had left me hot in frozen air. Confusion. And then fighting. Definitely fighting.
So how did we end up in bed together?
I open my eyes all the way and everything is back in a blink. The car ride. Liz breaking my window. Falling together through the snow, my body battered and my head in a place that would turn Janice From HR’s hair white.
But that’s all the past. Here? Now? In the present? Well, my head’s in the right place, but the rest of my body sure isn’t. Liz is pressed up against me in bed. Really pressed up. Her back molds to my chest, her legs to mine. Her soft hair is just beneath my chin and my world is filled with the ethereal scent that had dogged my dreams. For a single moment, I enjoy it.
Then I come back down to Earth. This is bad. This — whatever this is — can’t happen. Liz is cantankerous and power-hungry and hates me. And sure she’s also gorgeous and foul-mouthed, brave and quick-witted. But she works for the bank. She’s a drone. And besides, Mother likes her and that’s a red flag if I’ve ever seen one.
And can my idiot brain circle back around to the fact that Liz hates me? That point alone cancels out the thudding fire in my heart and in my cock as I hold her. Oh, because I’m absolutely holding her. One of my arms is under her neck, stretched out beneath the blankets. The other is wrapped around her waist, her hand resting on my wrist.
Panicked and under a dozen wool blankets, I start to sweat. I can’t stay in this position. Screw my own confused feelings, how the hell will Liz react when she wakes up? I would rather not lose my balls in the Midwest. I don’t think I can untangle myself without waking her, but I have to try.
I shift ever so slightly to see if I can wiggle my arm out from under her hand. Liz twitches with the movement. Her hand, previously just resting on my arm, actually grasps it, the fingers squeezing my wrist and then running up my arm.
I can tell she’s waking up, but, like watching a train derail, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is freeze in horror as Liz travels through the same stages I just did.
She nestles back against me, sighing deeply. Then she freezes, sensing that something isn’t right. Then she turns around in a jolt, ripping herself away from me and turning to confirm this unpleasant reality.
