“I hospitalized a guy named Gunner in a fight once. That count?” He handed me the keys, then dropped onto his hands and knees and stuck his head under the car to investigate, slowly making his way around the whole thing.
A fight?Damn. The thought of him getting violent shouldnothave turned me on so much. Clearly, the altitude was messing with my head.
“No, it doesn’t count,” I said. “So you’re not a Gunner or a Blade. Rock? Mack? Jack? Yes, Jack fits you. Rugged, classic—”
“Hawke Stevens.” He climbed out from under the car and stood to face me again, dusting the snow from his hands.
I waited, but he didn’t offer any additional details. “Not much for regular-type conversation, are you, Hawke Stevens?”
“You converse enough for the both of us.”
I pressed my lips together, ignoring the burn in my cheeks.
“Here’s the situation,” Hawke said. “Bent axle, two bent rims, and that tranny’s FUBAR—and that’s just the shit I could see. You ain’t going anywhere tonight, Cupcake. Not in that heap.”
I knew it was stupid to hope, but still. Hearing him say it out loud like that made it official: Maddie Lockwood, miracle of miracles, had ruined Christmas once again.
The disappointment must’ve shown all over my face, because suddenly Hawke was looking at me with… well, it wasn’t sympathy exactly, but close enough.
“Thanks anyway for trying,” I said. “Sorry to waste your time.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Hawke put a hand on my shoulder, his calloused fingers unintentionally grazing my neck beneath the scarf. After all his gruffness, the touch felt strangely intimate, sending shock waves of warmth rippling through my body.
“But as much as Iloveshooting the shit out here in the middle of a storm,” he continued, “I got a blazing fire and a bottle of illegal whiskey I’d like to get back to, preferably before my balls freeze off.”
“I… oh. Of course.” I smiled and stepped back from his touch, cheeks burning again, despite the cold.
Time for plan B. I might not be able to get the car moving again, but maybe I could use the onboard nav system to signal a tow truck or… something. Not that tow trucks were running right now, given the treacherous conditions.
Shoot.
I unzipped his jacket and slid it off my shoulders, my entire body grieving the loss of the warmth and his intoxicating, masculine scent. “Thanks again for your help, Hawke. Um… okay, then. I guess I’ll just… right. Merry Christmas, then.”
I shoved the jacket toward him, but Hawke gave me a crooked, wicked grin that sent a bolt of desire straight to my core.
“Nice try, Cupcake.” He closed the distance between us and jerked the coat out of my hands, wrapping me up in it again like I was his own personal Christmas gift. With a firm grip on the collar, he pulled me so close I could see the snowflakes melting on his feathery black eyelashes, feel the hot steam of his breath as it puffed white against my cheeks.
In a growl that made my panties wet, he said, “I told you, you ain’t going anywhere tonight. Except inside. With me.”
The grumpy barbarian held my gaze, those flint-gray eyes boring into mine as if he’d issued an order rather than an offer.
Holy hell.
I’d been planning this trip for months, so determined and excited to surprise my family, to finally enjoy Christmas outside of a hospital bed. I was so, so close, too—I’d made it all the way from my apartment in New York City, from buses and planes and shuttles to the rental car, across highways and through tunnels and up the side of a damn mountain, only to crash a mere twenty miles from my destination.
Despite all that, the strange, magnetic pull of Hawke Stevens was too strong to resist—even if hewasa little rough around the edges.
He finally released his grip on the collar, and I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the familiar tiny lump of the locket, warm and comforting against my skin. Behind it, my heart beat strong and steady once more, calming my nerves.
Seeing no other sane options for the moment—at least until the storm let up—I sighed and hit the button on the key fob, popping the trunk. “I need my things.”
Hawke looked inside. “There’s enough luggage in there for an entire platoon. You need all of it?”
“Just the big one. The rest can stay.”
Hawke hauled out my suitcase, hefting it over his shoulder and slamming the trunk shut. “Let’s go.”
Without a backward glance, he walked back up to the cabin, stomping a fresh path for me through the snow.
I took a deep breath, blew it out in a white plume, and followed him, a new warmth spreading inside me.
Yeah. Maybe a little “rough around the edges” was just what I needed tonight.
Not like things could get any worse, right?
