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His hat disappears along with a retreating crunch of footsteps over snow, and I swallow hard. My eyes stay fixed on the box of food we’ve been handed as I try to make sense of how we’ve ended up in this scenario.

“C’mon. Let’s go.” Brad hoists the carton into his arms. “Dunno about you but I’m fucking starved after all that. There better be something in here heavy on the carbs.”

“Sure.” I feel like my chest is growing tighter by the second. Last night was … different. Brad was drunk and there wasn’t anything more to it than doing a good deed. Of taking care of him and making sure he didn’t pass out in the snow.

What does it look like when we walk into that house together, and there’s nothing but a fireplace and a warm meal … and a choice between doing the right thing or the thing I really fucking want to do.

We walk the road back to his place in silence. Just the repetitive sound of our boots on snow accompanies the moment as daylight filters weakly through the trees. It’s so quiet out here, like the world has descended into a hush now that the drone of multiple chainsaws working has dropped away.

I don’t know what to say. Sober Brad hasn’t exactly offered anything overly flirtatious or cheeky. In fact, since our brief chat in the kitchen this morning, we’ve not had much of a chance to talk about anything at all. Which leaves me wondering if this is all just gonna be awkward as hell. In the cold light of day, and now that I’m stuck here, it might all be a completely different story.

Brad might want me gone, and it’s gonna be one hell of an uncomfortable night on the couch pretending that doesn’t sting like a motherfucking hoof straight to the stomach.

We reach the house and I’m climbing out of my skin. I’ve not had sleepovers with guys I’m interested in. There’s so much I haven’t ever done before and that just adds to this jumble of guilt and confusion and frustration. It’s much easier to allow Brad to keep walking while I put the chainsaw away with the rest of my tools and take a few moments to breathe. If I hang out here for a while, maybe I’ll be able to settle myself the fuck down.

I don’t want to check my phone. Other than texting my sister to say I decided to crash at a motel rather than put up with another night on her couch, I can’t be bothered trying to invent more lies. Most likely she won’t have texted back anyway.

I’ve only just secured the chainsaw safety guard when a cold thump smacks me in the back of the head. Snow showers all over my shoulders and some slips down the back of my collar.

Spinning around with a yelp on my lips, I take another snowball straight to the chest. This one is packed way harder and hits me with enough force that an “oof” puffs out of me.

Brushing my gloves over my front to dust the snow off, I look up and Brad’s grin is pure mischief as he arches one eyebrow while packing another snowball in between his palms. Touching his tongue to the front of his teeth, he eyes me up from head to toe, then hurls it straight at me. This one I see coming and duck just in time. The projectile whistles by, narrowly missing me, but hits the side of my truck with a thump.

“Oh, you sneaky fuck. It’s like that, huh?”

Brad lets out a maniacal chuckle and starts scooping snow. I’m down on my haunches, doing the same within a second. With heart pounding, something bright and hopeful races through my veins at the idea that maybe, just maybe, Brad does mean what he said last night after all.

We duck and weave and yell, racing to create snowballs and hurl them at each other. Breathlessly cursing anytime one or the other manages to land a blow. The awkwardness of earlier evaporates in the face of chasing him down as he skids to a hiding spot on the far side of my truck.

“Too fucking slow, horse boy,” Brad hollers.

“Like hell I am,” I grunt. Tossing one handful of snow across the other side of the truck, I watch as his head whips around to follow the spot where it landed. I strike.

I’m on him, tackling him to the ground, immediately smushing a glove full of soft snow in his face. He splutters and wriggles beneath me as our legs tangle and I brace myself over the top of him.

“Okay, okay. I yield. Blegh.” He coughs and sticks out a flattened tongue. Snow dusts his eyelashes and lips, rapidly starting to melt on his flushed cheeks.

Looking down between us, I see the way his hands fist the front of my jacket. He’s holding me tight, not pushing me away, and my stare darts back to connect with his. We’re both breathing heavily.

My throat dips, words feeling hoarse as I say the thing I probably shouldn’t say, but my blood is fucking rioting being this close to him. “You said you had rules. That the blackout drunk does the dishes. Is that something you do often? Get wasted and have bed buddies stay around for breakfast on the regular?”

“Jealous?”

Maybe. Definitely. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

“I’m just figuring out what the lay of the land is,” I grunt.

It’s Brad’s turn for his Adam’s apple to work as he swallows hard. “Well … other than your sister …” The guilty flicker crossing his eyes matches my own. His fingers tighten their hold on me. “There’s been no land to lay, or laying on anyone’s land. So to speak.”

And my world goes blank when he tugs me down, pressing our mouths together.

CHAPTER 13

I keep my mouth sealed to his the whole way inside, stealing kiss after kiss, inhaling this man like he’s the only sustenance I need.

“You talk so sweet.” I nip at his jaw, tracing along all that stubble. Loving every second of scratch and scrape against my lips. “I bet you’re a cowboy who would say the sweetest words while doing bad, bad things. I bet you’d be the guy who could ruin a man because you’d say all the right words to make me melt and then ruin my life by being so wicked.” We’ve made it inside, and I start shedding both our clothes for the two of us.

I mean, I’m nothing but helpful.