Just like that, it wasn’t about butting heads with Rosie and her pushy matchmaking. It wasn’t about defending her grandmother’s bourbon butter cake. This was about being alone with Ian—away from the lodge and everybody in it—and it was probably going to be the only chance she got.
“Okay,” she said, and if she hadn’t been looking at him, she might have missed the flare of heat in his eyes and the way his body lifted as he rocked onto his toes for a second. “Five minutes?”
“Sounds good. I’ll warm up the truck.”
Nola spent those five minutes getting ready to go, while also hoping one of his kids wouldn’t decide they were bored and wanted to go with him. She felt a little guilty about that, but they were going back to Connecticut with Ian. She only had him for a couple more days.
Ian got out of his truck when he saw her coming across the yard, and he offered his hand as she climbed up into his truck. He had a running board, so she didn’t really need the support, but she let him help her up just to have an excuse to touch him.
While she got settled and put her seatbelt on, he hit the scan button on the radio until he found Christmas music, and then he put the truck in gear. When he reached the end of the long drive, he didn’t immediately turn onto the main road, though. With his foot on the brake, he turned to look at her.
“Remember the trucks when we were young, with the full bench seat?” he asked. “I kind of wish I still had one of those so you could slide over and sit next to me.”
She looked at the massive center console with its cupholders and storage and USB ports. “I don’t know. If you had to choose between me sitting next to you and these heated seats…”
“You.” He didn’t even pretend to think about it. “I’d gladly suffer a frozen ass if I had you sitting next to me.”
She laughed, blushing at the oddly romantic sentiment, and then she rested her arm on the center console. He did the same, threading his fingers through hers so they were holding hands before he used his left hand to steer the truck out onto the road.
They chatted while he drove, mostly about favorite Christmas memories, until they reached the gas station. She waited in the truck while he filled his tank, not only because it was warm, but because it would minimize the number of people who saw her with a stranger with Connecticut plates. Not that she minded the gossip, really. She just knew that, after Ian went home, she wouldn’t feel like answering any questions about him.
She started getting nervous when they were about halfway to her house. With every minute that passed and every direction she gave him, she got that much closer to decision time. Did she want to let Ian go with a few stolen kisses and a lot ofwhat-ifs?Or did she want to invite him in and add the memory of an amazing afternoon with him in her bed to the pile?
When he pulled into her driveway and put the truck in Park, she knew she’d already made her decision, though. If she was going to have to let this man go and spend the rest of her life without him, she was at least going to get an orgasm out of it.
“It might take me a while to find that recipe,” she said. “You should probably shut the truck off and come in so you don’t burn all the gas you just put in it.”
He didn’t say anything, but he turned off the ignition and opened his door. When he walked around the truck to help her out, she saw the hint of a blush across his cheeks. Either the cold hit him fast, or he was feeling the same blend of nerves and anticipation that she was.
“Your house is beautiful,” he said as she unlocked the door.
“Thank you. It’s too big for me, really, but I fell in love with it at first sight.” Taking a steadying breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
As she heard Ian close the door behind them, she had a panicky moment—what was the protocol for this? Should she invite him to sit? Maybe throw together a charcuterie tray? She didn’t want any of that. She wantedhim. Naked. Now.
Nola turned, intending to at least offer him a drink, but as soon as their eyes met and she saw the hunger in the way he looked at her, she was moving. Grasping the front of his coat, she hauled him forward until their mouths collided in a kiss so hot it seared her very soul.
They managed to get their coats off without ending the kiss, but she almost fell over while trying to get her feet out of her boots, and Ian had to stop kissing her to catch her. Nearly breathless and laughing, they took off their boots and kicked them to the side, but they left the coats in a pile on the floor.
Taking him by the hand, she led him toward the stairs, waving her hand toward things without slowing down. “Kitchen. Living room. Killer view out the back. Let me show you upstairs now.”
“Nice view,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if was talking about the river or her ass as she preceded him up the stairs.
She didn’t bother pointing out the guest bedrooms or the bathroom. She led him straight toherbedroom, all of her focus on getting him out of his clothes.
There was a moment when she crossed the threshold and saw the way the sun illuminated her room, even through the curtains, that she wished it was dark. She was almost forty years old now, and she loved carbs a lot more than she loved the treadmill gathering dust in her garage.
Then she turned to face him and the hunger in his eyes chased away any reservations she had about taking off her clothes in front of him. This man wanted her—wrinkles, smooshy spots and all.
And she wanted him. She’d had a couple nibbles of that cake. It was time to say the hell with it and devour an entire slice.
Now that they were in her bedroom, he seemed content to slow things down, though. Giving her that smile that always took her breath away, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, Nola.”
Heat flooded her cheeks and the denial was on the top of her tongue—she was passably pretty on a very good day—but she didn’t say it because of the way he was looking at her. They weren’t pretty words meant to charm her out of her pants. She was beautiful tohimand that was enough.
He kissed her again. Slowly. Thoroughly. Then they’d break apart long enough to remove an article of clothing before their mouths met again. Kiss by kiss, skin was bared until finally there was nothing between her fingertips and the warmth of his skin. She ran her palms over his shoulders and his chest, down to his waist and then up his back, loving the feel of him.
“This is probably a bad time to mention this,” Ian said. “But I don’t have any protection with me. When I was packing to go to a lodge in a small and somewhat remote town in Maine during the winter with my kids, I didn’t think to put condoms on the list.”
