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Obviously.
“Keys.” He held out his hand imperiously.
“What?”
“Give me your keys. I’ll get your stuff out. Shit, your tires are worn thin, Little girl.”
She froze at those words. He didn’t mean them like that. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice what he’d called her as he started mumbling to himself and moving around her car.
She shivered and drew the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.
As though he had some sort of radar, he paused and turned to her. “You’re cold.”
“I’m f-fine.” Shit. Way to prove him right.
“Uh-uh, no lying. I can see that we’re going to have to set ground rules.”
“We are?”
What sort of ground rules? Like . . . no walking around half-naked in the hotel room?
Disappointing.
Wait. No. Not disappointing. What was wrong with her?
“We are. No lying is number one,” he said firmly.
Shit.
She liked that stern tone. It wrapped her up in safety.
Stop it, Greer.
“I never lie.”
“Is that so?” He moved toward her, removing his jacket.
Why was he taking off his jacket? Realization dawned as he settled his coat around her shoulders. Now he was dressed in just a Henley that clung to him in all the right places. Seriously. It seemed to highlight every muscle, every sexy bulge.
She swallowed heavily.
“You shouldn’t give me your jacket. You’ll get cold.” She tried to pull it off, but he shot her another look.
“Try to remove it, Little girl, and you’ll be in a world of trouble.”
Oh. Do tell.
No. Wait. She didn’t want to know. Did she?
Damn it. She felt like she was in the middle of one of her romance books. Only there could never be a happily-ever-after for her.
Because she couldn’t be in a relationship. Not ever.
He blinked, looking surprised. Then his hand cupped the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry about that nickname. But you need to wear that jacket until I get you in my truck and warmed up. We’ll talk more about ground rules then.”
“Goody,” she muttered.
He raised an eyebrow at her. Oops.
