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“That feels good. And no, I couldn’t make it back out. Why do you think I showed up at your door again?”
“I just figured you wanted to see me.”
“You slammed the door in my face. The only reason I came back is because my car is stuck. After I’m warmed up, I’m sure we’ll be able to push it out.”
“We? You got a mouse in your pocket?”
“No.” Sam kicks off her heels and tucks her feet under her butt. “I was thinking you would help me.”
“It’s freezing out there. We’ll call a tow company.”
“I already did.”
“And?” I look at her expectantly. With any luck they’ll be pulling up any second, and she’ll be out of here before I get the urge to warm up more than her hands.
“James said I’m third in line. It’ll take at least three hours before he can get to me—two and half if I’m lucky.”
Damn.
I don’t know whether to hug James Pritchard or strangle him. What I do know is I have to get away from Sam for a few minutes, because she feels too damn good pressed against me.
Better than Lorelei ever did, and that’s a scary thought.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?”
“That would be great.”
I lift her off my lap and walk into the kitchen. It takes a solid five minutes longer to make the drink than it should, and by the time I get back to the living room, she’s standing in front of the fire with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“Here you go.”
Samantha spins around and eagerly takes the drink I offer. “Thank you.”
She pulls the mug to her lips and blows across the top before taking a sip. “This would be better with a shot of whiskey.”
“I’m pretty sure I could make that happen.”
She smiles over the rim of her cup. “If I didn’t have to drive home, I’d take you up on that. Maybe next time.”
Next time?
What does she mean, next time?
There isn’t going to be a next time.
It’ll be hard enough to hold on to my resolve for the few hours she’s here tonight. If there’s a next time, all bets will be off and my don’t-touch rule will be out the window.
“I’ve gotta be honest,” I say, sitting
on the far edge of the couch. “I never expected to see you caroling at my door. Your sister maybe, but not you. How the hell did that happen?”
Her frown is followed by a deep sigh, and she looks at her hot chocolate before her eyes meet mine. “That’s exactly why I did it.”
“I’m not following.”
She takes another sip of her drink and sits on the opposite end of the couch. Shifting her body, she turns sideways so she’s looking at me and I change my position to match hers.
With the fire glowing and a sliver of bare skin from her leg peeking out from beneath the cover, the moment feels more intimate than it should.
