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“Morgan might not have the Goodwins,” he said, “but she has you. And that pack of loyal friends you’ve got up there.”

Despite the awkwardness lingering between them from the night before, his words warmed her.

She stole a sidelong glance at him, half afraid their eyes would meet and all the memories of being in each other’s arms again would come crashing back between them.

They both seemed to be trying very hard to pretend that kiss had never happened.

She didn’t know about him, but pretending wasn’t really working for her. The scent of him drifted to her, rough and masculine, and his hands on the steering wheel reminded her of how they had held her to him.

For one brief moment when their mouths had been tangled together, everything had felt right. Safe. Beautiful.

She frowned at herself. That sense of safety was an illusion. A dangerous one. There was nothing between them. Whatever had once existed between them was impossible now.

“Want to listen to something?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Listen to whatever you want,” she said, pulling her laptop out of her bag. “I have some work to catch up on.”

He hit a preset station on the truck stereo, and soon adult contemporary began to play through the front speakers only, so it didn’t disturb the children’s viewing.

It was soothing, unobtrusive. Fine.

She opened her laptop, stared at the screen for a few minutes as the words blurred together, then quietly closed it again. She hadn’t slept at all after their encounter the night before. Now the hum of the tires, the low murmur of music, the windshield wipers beating away soft flakes—all of it wrapped around her like a lullaby.

Before they had even reached the northern edge of the city, her eyes drifted shut, and she slid sideways against the seat, sleep claiming her.

For the moment, the complications of the night before seemed distant and unreal. Just for these stolen moments between sleep and consciousness, she could pretend that everything was exactly as it should be.

Chapter 26

Within an hour, all the other occupants of his pickup truck were asleep.

Wes glanced in the rearview mirror to find Kodi sprawled out in his kennel, snoring softly. Carter was out cold too. Beside him, Riley’s head had tipped toward the window, her mouth slightly open, her features loose and peaceful.

He cast a sideways look at Hannah.

Her lashes fanned dark against her cheeks, her lips parted slightly. At some point she had shifted in her seat, her body angled toward him, shoulder nearly brushing the console. A lock of hair had fallen across her forehead.

For one reckless moment, he had the insane urge to pull onto the shoulder of the interstate, throw the truck into Park and just sit there staring at her. He wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth, the curve of her cheek, the way sleep smoothed away the wariness she wore when she was awake.

As a young woman barely out of her teens, she had been stunning. Big blue eyes, easy smile, a glow that came from somewhere deep inside. The years had only deepened that beauty. Life had carved strength into her. She possessed a quiet confidence she hadn’t had when she was younger, which made her even more compelling, if that was possible.

His mind slipped back to the night before. Her taste. The soft sound she had made when he had pulled her closer.

It had been a mistake, he told himself for the hundredth time. An enormous one. He had no business stirring up old feelings, not when he had no intention of staying.

But he knew, with the weary certainty of a man who had been lying to himself for too long, that it was a mistake that would haunt him.

In quiet moments back in his real life, he would remember this trip, this woman, that kiss.

They all slept straight through the rest of Utah with snow swirling more thickly, blurring the horizon. He kept his hands steady on the wheel, trying not to think about the way his side ached.

Kodi woke first. The dog shifted, whined a little, then stood and turned in a tight circle in an unmistakable message.

“All right, buddy,” Wes murmured. “I hear you.”

He scanned the roadside for a good place to stop. It took another fifteen miles before he found an exit with a gas station that looked like it bordered a small park.

When he pulled to a stop near the gas pumps, the change in motion finally roused the truck’s other occupants.