by Skye Jordan
“Look, I admit, this morning was a total clusterfuck, but I’m sure we can get past the way we met and come to an agreement.” When she didn’t respond, his expression shifted from guarded hope to an almost painful mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “I’m really sorry, and I just…really need you to come back.”
That irritating little nurturer inside her tugged on a heartstring. The bully in her yanked it loose and made a grab for her keys.
Noah pulled them out of reach, brow furrowed in disbelief. “You’re just going to pass up all that easy money?”
“There would be nothing easy about working with you.”
“You’re wrong—nothing could be easier, because you don’t have to work with me at all. I can take care of myself, but I have to please my sponsor. And as long as they think you’re working with me, they’ll be happy. You get a long paid vacation in my guesthouse on Lake Tahoe; I get to rehab on my own. We’ll just stay out of each other’s way. Good plan, right?”
She wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or amused. “One—that’s not called a good plan, that’s called fraud. And two—thinking you can rehab yourself is recklessly ignorant.”
“I’ve rehabbed myself dozens of times in the past—all successfully. I know my body, and I know how to heal it.”
“Right.” Her lips curled in a sardonic smile, and her gaze lowered purposely to his open boot. “Definitely looks that way to me.” She met his gaze again. “Have you ever broken an ankle before?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. This injury is complex and difficult to rehab. And you’re not just rehabbing the bone. You’ve got half a dozen ligaments holding your ankle together. Then there’s cartilage and tendons and muscle… Whatever you’ve been doing has done more harm than good. But no one can help you because your ego is so inflated, there’s no room for anyone to squeeze in.”
“I don’t need help.” He spit out the last two words like poison, then softened his tone and gave her a sullen “And this isn’t about ego.”
“Oh, ego’s definitely driving you right now, whether you want to admit it or not. But there’s also fear and anger and denial mixed in, mucking everything up. I’ve seen this scenario often enough to know exactly what’s going on inside you. But here’s the thing, Superstar, I’m not interested in unpuzzling you. So, tell yourself whatever the hell you want.” She snatched her keys from his hand. “But I won’t stand by and watch you willingly throw away the talent that I know resulted from decades of hard work.”
She turned just as the bakery door opened again. Another big man stepped in, bringing a wild burst of icy air and wet flakes. Julia turned her head away from the stinging cold.
“Sorry about that,” the man said, shaking a layer of snow off a shiny black jacket, clearing a deputy’s patch on the shoulder. “Storm’s in two hours early. Thought I’d grab some coffee before I head out to help with road closures.”
“Got a thermos waiting on you right here, Dan,” Jill called from the coffeepots.
“Sir?” Julia asked, alarm tugging at her stomach. “Which roads are closed?”
“All of ’em,” he said, slipping his jacket off and hanging it on a peg next to the door. He turned and met Julia’s gaze. He looked about fortyish and tired. “Fifty, eighty, eighty-nine.” With a glance behind Julia, he added, “I recognize that gleam in your eye, Noah. Don’t you dare go out in this storm, boy, ’cause I won’t be pulling your stupid ass out of the powder if you get stuck.”
Noah grinned and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
The deputy looked at Julia again. “If you had plans to leave town, I suggest you find somewhere dry and warm and settle in. Everyone around here’s gonna be homebound for a day or two.”
Shock burned through her body, and she opened her mouth to challenge the reality. But the deputy reached around her and shook Noah’s hand. “How’s the leg, kid?”
“Oh, you know. Little better every day.”
When Noah started small talk with the cop about his son’s high school snowboarding team, Julia slipped out of the bakery. She wasn’t prepared for the blizzard that had closed in while she’d been inside. Her boots sank into six inches of fresh powder, so much pouring from the sky, she could barely see the road just fifty feet away. A little sizzle of panic snaked along her shoulders. She hadn’t been lying about how badly she sucked at driving in the snow. Yeah, her Audi was all-wheel drive, but she was not an all-weather driver. The thought of heading back down the mountain in what looked like a blizzard scared the crap out of her.
The bell on the bakery’s door tinkled, and Julia pulled her jacket tighter around her, wishing she’d thought to pull her gloves, scarf, and hat from her car when she’d grabbed a jacket. She drudged her way through the snow toward her car where Noah had parked it in a spot near the street. Snowflakes batted her face, stuck to her eyelashes, and melted on her lips.
What in hell had she been thinking? She’d never be able to live up here in the winter. She was a swimmer, a fair-weather athlete, not a mountain woman. She didn’t like to ski or snowboard. Hell, she didn’t even like walking from clubhouse to poolside in the cold. And she hated that first dive into the pool in any season other than summer.
By the time she reached her car, she was panting. This was worse than running on the beach in dry sand. How could those fluffy flakes feel like slogging through cement?
“Julia, wait.” Noah’s voice right behind her made her jump. She hadn’t heard him coming—damn snow acted like a sound insulator. “You can’t drive in this.”
“I’m not staying.” She was fed the hell up—with him, with Drake, with Sunrise Manor, with the crooked roads leading her away from her dream. She pushed a pile of snow off her door handle and jerked at it, but the door didn’t open. Swearing, she clicked the key fob again, saw the lights flash, and tried the door. “Dammit, it’s stuck.”
“It’s frozen.” He stepped up beside her. “Let me—”
He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder. Julia followed his gaze to the roar of a huge yellow snowplow coming toward them. Orange lights flashed on the cab, and the curved blade scraped the road. Snow curled up and over the blade, then sprayed off to the side in a six-foot wave of ice, forming a street-side berm. And that thing was moving fast.
“Ah, shit.” Noah’s words came out only seconds before the plow barreled closer, right about the time distances and positions clicked in Julia’s head, and she realized an avalanche was headed straight for her.
She made a sound in her throat, hunched, and turned her back on the inevitable. Noah’s arms closed around her, and pulled her off her feet. Before a cry of surprise exited her mouth, her back hit something hard, and her lungs emptied in a heavy whoosh. Then Noah’s body hit her front, sandwiching her against something hard and cold, and hard and warm. He jerked her close and curled around her, dropping his head to her shoulder and pressing her face to his chest with a hand on the back of her head.
Ice poured over them in one giant wave. Noah swore in her ear, his hot breath bathing the side of her face, trickling down her neck.
In seconds, it was over, the heavy spray gone, and the snow falling from the sky didn’t seem so harsh anymore.
“Jesus Christ,” Noah bit out, lifting his head, his gaze following the plow. “Asshole.”
But he continued to hold her tight, and now that the alarming moment had passed, all Julia’s senses came back online—to the way they fit together, the feel of their thighs intertwined, the fullness of his package low on her belly, his heartbeat beneath her ear. And, God, he smelled good—incredibly masculine and musky and real. Only a hint of cologne and…perfume? Yes, Samantha’s perfume.
Reality check.
“You okay?” he asked without letting go.
She pulled from his warmth and glanced around to get her bearings. Snow layered her hair, stuck to her back, and covered her to the knees. They were standing close to the car in the next parking spot, where Noah had
used the vehicle to shield them from the heaviest hit.
“Yeah,” she said, still stunned by the event, by how quickly Noah moved, by the way he’d taken care of her. Admittedly, there was more to this guy than she’d initially seen.
“That guy’s getting reported.” He stepped back, hands gripping her arms, and looked down at her. “Are you steady?”
She nodded and pushed off the cold metal, concern for his ankle growing now that the incident had passed. “Is your leg okay?”
“Hasn’t been okay in months. Nothing new.” Noah brushed snow off her hair and shoulders, and her loose ponytail fell from the elastic band. Reaching around her, he cleared the snow from her back and shoulders. “Get this off before it melts. Let’s go back inside so you can warm up.”
She pried her boots from the snow and shook herself off. “No. I’m done with this. I’m going home.”
“Uh, actually…” he said, rounding the back of her car in a limp. “You’re not going anywhere. Your car isn’t leaving this parking lot. At least not today.”
She turned to ask him what that meant—but the words died in her throat. Her gaze held on her car…where it was covered—as in buried—in snow. “Oh my God.”
“All part of living here.” Noah made a face and shrugged, looking appropriately regret-filled for the first time since she’d met him. “Damn, I’m glad you weren’t on the road when this hit.”
“Can’t we…I don’t know…tow it out or dig it out or…something?”
“Not now. Tow trucks go into triage mode on days like this. Accidents and dangerous situations get first priority. And with the snow falling this fast, digging would be like bailing out a sinking ship.”
She fisted her hands at her sides. Tears of futility and fury burned her eyes. “Goddammit.”
“Hey,” he said, voice soothing as he wandered toward her with a grimace and a limp. “It’s no big deal. We can come back and get it tomorrow when the storm breaks and the chaos dies down. Until then, you can just stay with me.”
No. No. No. “I’ll get a hotel.”
“No, you won’t. Not in a storm like this. They’ll all be sold out. Guaranteed.”
Julia ground her teeth. Tears spilled over her lashes, mixing with the melted snow. Which just made her angrier. She hated feeling helpless. Hated depending on others. Nothing but disappointment and betrayal came from believing or relying on others.
She tried to pull herself together and think straight but ended up only gesturing vaguely to her snow-covered car. “All my stuff’s in there.” The cold finally seeped in and covered every inch of her body in gooseflesh. Her jaw froze and her teeth chattered. “My clothes, my t-toiletries…”
“Trunk or backseat?” he asked.
She shivered hard. “T-trunk m-mostly.”
Noah pivoted and pointed his key fob at his SUV. His precious Maserati had escaped the spray where Julia had parked it away from the street and next to the building. The vehicle’s lights beeped and the engine turned over, purring like a satisfied kitten.
“Get in and turn up the heat,” he ordered. “I’ll dig open your trunk and get your stuff.”
“I can help—”
“Julia.” The use of her name was forceful and final, and oddly intimate. “You don’t have gloves, you’re wet, and you’re freezing. I made this mess; I’ll fix it. Now get in the damn car. I’m not asking.”
By the time Noah dumped her duffle and backpack into his backseat, the inside of his SUV was as warm as a toaster. Before he slid into the driver’s seat, he pulled off his hat, gloves, and jacket, tossing them over Julia’s bags.
Behind the wheel, door closed, he heaved a breath. Disaster averted, at least for the moment. She was still here. Though he had substantial doubts she’d stay once the storm let up.
He’d never had a woman try to run from him so many times in the span of an hour. Maybe ever. This had to be a freaking record.
Julia turned and stretched to reach into the back, rummaging in one of her bags, and Noah’s gaze slid to the creamy skin exposed in the V of her fleece top, the way her breasts pushed together and created delicious curves.
“Thanks for breaking the brunt of that avalanche,” she said, her voice sincere. She pulled back with a bottle, uncapped it, and poured two tablets into her palm, then extended them toward him. “Tylenol. Your leg’s got to be killing you from those quick moves.”
He swallowed them dry before backing out of the parking spot. “Tylenol doesn’t even curb my headaches.”
“Take Excedrin for your headaches. And why do you have headaches?”
“Because my agent pulls shit like hiring the fourth freaking physical therapist I don’t need.”
Julia sat back with an exasperated huff. “Probably more likely you’ve thrown your hips and spine out of alignment from compensating for your ankle. Have you been to a chiropractor?”
“Chiropractors don’t fix ankles.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled the cuff of her long-sleeved fleece pullover open in front of the heater vent. Warm air blew down her sleeve, and she shivered with a moan of pleasure. A sound that tied a hot little knot in the pit of Noah’s belly.
“What happened to your other physical therapists?” she asked. “Can’t wait to hear how you scared them away after this morning.”
He backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the main street. Conditions had gone nearly
whiteout in the last hour. The streets were deserted but for plows, cops, and heavy-duty four-wheel-drive trucks.
“The first one, a guy, was more interested in getting snowboarding techniques from me than working on my leg. The second one’s fights with her boyfriend over text cut into my therapy. Kinda hard to manipulate a joint when your hands are busy on the phone. And the third one had a whole different kind of therapy in mind. She talked entirely too much about sexual healing.”
“And why, exactly, didn’t she work out?” Julia asked with overt innocence.
Noah snorted. “Guess I deserve that after this morning.”
“Can your pretty toy handle this weather? If we get stuck again, I can’t guarantee my mental state will remain intact.”
“If this is intact, I’m officially terrified of witnessing a break.” When she only shot him a sour smile, he said, “This baby’s a monster in the snow. I’d never have bought it otherwise. Nothing comes between me and my powder.”
She chuckled. “You sound like an addict.”
“Absolute. Completely incurable.”
She pulled her hand from the vent and yanked her fleece over her head, then leaned forward and put her body in front of the heat. Noah was faced with that skintight tank again and all the curves filling it. His groin tightened, and he shifted in his seat, glancing at the car’s control panel for the heat settings. He made an adjustment to funnel the heat toward her side of the car.
“Dying of heat stroke over here.” And not from external temperature. “You’re cold because there isn’t an ounce of fat on you.”
He scanned the toned curves of her shoulder and bicep, took a peek at her small waist and flat belly, then purposely focused on the road. He preferred Samantha-types in his bed, but Julia was turning up the heat in all sorts of new ways. If he could get her to stop running from him, he might put some serious effort behind a new type of fling, because the thought of all her bossy ways melting underneath him sent a surge of fire to his cock.
“Physical fitness is the cornerstone of my career,” she said. “I wouldn’t be very successful if I didn’t take care of myself, the same way you won’t be if you don’t.”
She pulled her fleece back over her head. Her hair touched her shoulders in a sleek, dark curtain. She dragged it from the collar of her shirt and relaxed into the seat with a heavy sigh. At a red light, Noah glanced over at her. Her profile was striking, her face softer and sweeter with her hair down, all rosy from the combination of heat and cold.
She caught his gaze and said, “What?”
He shook his head, one side of his mouth curving in a smile. “Just looking at you, I’d never have guessed a rabid honey badger lived inside that pretty shell.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Ha.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.
“Is Samantha your regular hookup?” she shot back.
He heaved a sigh.
“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it either.” She pointed out the windshield. “Can we stop at Safeway? I’m going to need some food. God knows I can’t eat anything you’ve got in that kitchen of yours.”
The light turned green, and he continued straight. “I’d really like to clear the air about Samantha.”
As the grocery store disappeared behind a curtain of snow, she slumped into her seat. “I’ll take that as a no on Safeway. As for Samantha, it’s none of my business. Maybe, if we were working together, we’d discuss it, but we’re not, so just don’t go there.”
“How’d Drake find you?”
“I worked with a few of his clients when I was with Performance Therapy.”
Performance was a huge hitter in the business of therapy for elite athletes. Noah had never been there, but many of his friends had. “Drake says you rehabbed Favre and Simms.”
She hesitated, and her voice softened when she said, “Drake talks too much.”
“Who else?”
“I don’t discuss my clients with anyone. It’s a privacy thing, a respect thing.”
“So many morals…”
She glanced at him. “I suppose it would seem that way to you. Relativity and all that.” Refocusing out the window, she added, “Wouldn’t you want me keeping information I learned about you in our sessions private?”
“Sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it got out.”
“Then your expectations are set too low.”
He exhaled heavily. “Hey, look, do you think we can call a truce? This bickering is exhausting.”
She pursed her lips and tilted her head, then hummed and said, “Mmm, no. I’m still pissed about this whole day.”
“How long do you usually stay pissed?”
