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To her surprise, it was clean. More than clean. The dashboard was polished. So was the old-fashioned leather bench seat. The cab even smelled good. Leather. Pine. Cold, clean mountain air.
“You might want to hang onto your seat. I drive fast.”
“Good. The faster, the better. I can hardly wait to meet your boss and tell him—”
“—that I’m rude and, what was it? Oh yeah. Insolent. Trust me, lady. It’ll be a waste of time. He already knows all about me.”
“Maybe you think the fact that you got me out of the weather will save you, but I promise you, it won’t.”
“I’d do the same for a heifer. Damned if I want the trouble of finding you frozen stiff come the spring thaw.”
Lissa swung toward him. “Just in case nobody’s told you, you are one unpleasant, nasty SOB!”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Duchess, but you’re not the first.”
“I’m happy to hear that there are others here who are as discerning as I am. And do not call me duchess.”
“Must you always get the last word?”
“Yes.”
She thought that maybe his lips twitched. She still couldn’t see much of his face, just enough to know that he had a cleft chin, a square jaw, and probably a week’s worth of dark stubble. Not that she gave a damn what he looked like. Count Dracula or Prince Charming, Nick Bannister was a foul-mouthed, mean-tempered piece of work.
All that mattered was reaching the lodge and meeting the person who’d hired her.
There was no point in judging the place by the isolation of the airstrip or by her surly escort.
No point at all, Lissa assured herself…
And hoped to hell that she was right.
CHAPTER THREE
It took twenty minutes to reach the first signs of civilization.
Actually, that was an overstatement.
What they reached was a cluster of wooden outbuildings barely visible through the heavy snowfall, and a handful of what she assumed were corrals.
On a rise in the distance, she could see glimpses of a dark structure. Was that the lodge? It was big, but not big enough to house many guests. Maybe what she was looking at was a separate building from the lodge. A dining room. A card room. A bar.
She sat forward in her seat.
“Is that the Triple G?”
“Is what the Triple G?”
She looked at the cowboy. The short exchange was the first since they’d driven away from the airstrip, but his tone of voice was that of a man who’d been beleaguered with endless questions.
“That building, of course. Is it the Triple G?”
He looked at her, then back at what she assumed was the road. It was difficult to tell because of the snow.
“You’ve been on the Triple G since the plane landed.”
Lissa rolled her eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Bannister. I understand that we’re on Triple G land. What I meant was, is that building ahead of us the hotel?”
He looked at her again.
