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Sigh.
“I’m not letting you freeze to death,” he says, taking the hill with a speed that has my free hand gripping the seat, my other arm wrapped tightly enough around Steve that he snorts disapprovingly against my chin. But then we’re up and over the hill, moving slowly and steadily along the road. “Too much fucking paperwork.”
“Let?” I ask dangerously.
A danger he ignores, just driving forward without answering me.
“Paperwork?” I ask, tone even icier.
He flicks on the radio, keeps driving, and I debate hurling myself out the door.
But…Snowmageddon.
And Steve.
And hurling sounds like it would hurt.
So, when he keeps driving, the soft rock music playing in the background, I settle into my seat and do what I always do.
Let this latest fuck-up roll off my back.
And then I hug Steve a little tighter.
Six
Lake
The dog is droolingon her chin, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.
Ido, though, judging by the glares she tosses my way repeatedly during the short drive to my house. “If you’re an ax murderer, I swear to God,” she mutters, still holding on to the little demon dog like it is the most precious object on Earth.
And not a tiny terror with a smooshed-up face.
I’m almost tempted to ask her to finish that sentence.
But that would mean talking to her more.
And I can’t decide if she’s annoying as fuck, or…kind of amusing. And, frankly, I’m worried I’m settling on the side of amused, which is a complication I really don’t need.
Hence why it’s tempting to stop my car and order her to get out.
Unfortunately, I’m an asshole with a bit of a conscience—or else I wouldn’t have rescued her from the side of the road in the first place—so I can’t dump her out in the snow to turn into a human popsicle.
As much as it pains me, the only place I can take her is my house—
Wait.
She said she rented a place nearby, and—
“Where are you staying?”
A narrow-eyed glare in my direction. “1262 Forest Bend.”
I blink.
Then frown.
Because…what the actual fuck?
