Page 91 of Drowning in Darkness

“Will the snow stick?” I wonder as a few flakes flurry against the window.

He glances up through the windscreen at the low clouds pregnant with wintry intent. “Eventually.”

The thought of being stuck in a lodge with him does all sorts of things to my tummy. None of them is bad. “How far is the town?”

“Thirty minutes’ drive on a good weather day like this.”

I hear the worry in his tone. “Do you have enough stores if we get snowed in?” I don’t doubt him, but maybe a little reassurance and reminder will help.

“Always.”

He turns on the radio, and smooth country music fills the silence between us as we wind lower and lower, my ears popping with the decreased altitude. We roll into a quaint town with all the basic stores needed for the locals. Hardwear, grocery, pharmacy, florist, diner, and an Italian restaurant which boasts to serve the best lasagna in the state. Bold declaration.

He pulls into the grocery parking lot and hands me a baseball cap. I curl my lip. “I’m not a Yankees fan.”

“And you are the minority, meaning no one will pay attention to you among the thousands wearing the same one. This isn’t about personal preference; it’s about blending in. Wear the cap or stay in the truck.”

I groan and plant it on my head. “No one needs to see this, so best hope I blend in.”

He reaches over and lifts the back to stuff my hair beneath it. Good luck with that; my hair doesn’t fit under any cap. “What are you trying to do?”

“Make you less memorable.”

“My hair is memorable?”

His eyes drop to my lips. “More than you know.”

What on earth did I say last night? It feels like something’s changed, and since I have no idea what it could be, it’s making me spiral.

“This is impossible,” he growls. “How is it escaping no matter what I do? It’s like herding cats but with hair.”

I snort. “There’s no taming me.”

He licks his lips. “That’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

He’s out of the truck and around to my side before I can process what he said. He opens the door and leans over to release my seat belt, his arm brushing my breasts. I suck in a breath. He tosses the offending cap in the backseat before producing an honest to God Stetson. He rolls his shoulders before dropping the dark hat on my head. It’s too large, which is the point because he’s able to tuck my long hair inside it.

And now I’m wearing his cowboy hat and trying not to read too much into it.

“Are you coming or decorating my truck?” he asks, retreating and offering me a hand.

If I thought I had the upper hand, I was sorely mistaken.

I slide out and wind my fingers through his. Not sure that’s what he meant to happen, but I need someone to anchor me. He closes the door and doesn’t try to pull away, which I’m endlessly grateful for.

We enter the grocery store first. I drop his hand, attempting to do as he asked—making sure I’m not memorable. He glances over his shoulder at me with a frown.

I make a shooing motion. “Go. I need to check out the ice cream offerings. I have a craving for Chunky Monkey.”

He quirks a brow. “Don’t leave the store.”

He makes a beeline for a desk at the rear, headed by a guy rocking a beard that touches his belly. He smiles at James, revealing a gold front tooth.

“Jason, I saw the parcels, so I knew you were due. Maria baked you some of her famous peach and pecan pie.”

Another alias. I wonder how many he has? It’s impossible to get lost or even out of sight of him because there’s a grand total of five aisles.

“Appreciate that,” James drawls in a Southern accent that makes my lips twitch. Well, now, that’s quite something. It’s not the low growl and cadence of his natural voice, but it makes for some interesting fantasies. Not that I need any more material.