by Noelle Adams
“I was trying to get you out of the snow. You’re complaining about that?”
“I’m complaining because you jerked me around. I’ve already fallen four times, and I don’t feel very good at the moment.”
“Then you’ll want to get inside, I assume. Or would you rather stand there and yell at me?”
“I can yell at you as we get inside. You really think I’m not capable of doing both at the same time.”
“I’m sure you’re capable of it.” His hair and beard were covered with snow now, and the wind was making his eyes sting. He wanted to get out of the snow almost as much as he wanted to get Penny out of it. “So start walking.”
She scowled at him again, but she did put one foot out in front of the other in the right direction. He walked beside her, putting an arm around her to support her and keep her moving. She was limping, he realized after a few steps.
She was limping a lot.
“What hurts?” he demanded.
She stopped and looked up at him, blinking as if she were confused. Her face was all lush dips and curves, rounded cheeks, big blue-gray eyes, a dimple in her right cheek. He didn’t remember her ever being this pretty in the past, but maybe his vision was affected by the urgency of the situation.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, what hurts? You’re limping.”
“Oh. I turned my ankle, and it’s a little sore. And I pulled a muscle in my leg. But I’m fine. I can make it.” She started to walk again, and because he was watching, he saw her wince as she took a step. He believed her when she said she could make it, but it was going to be slow and it was going to hurt her.
He stood and processed his options for about thirty seconds, but there was really only one reasonable course of action to get her into the house quickly.
He’d lived alone too long to second-guess his first instincts. He took one long step and moved directly in front of her. Then he leaned forward, grabbed her by the waist, and hauled her up so she was draped over one of his shoulders. Then he walked quickly toward the cabin.
As expected, Penny squealed at the sudden move. “What the heck are you doing, Kent!”
He almost chuckled at the words, at the memories. She’d never cursed back in school either, always replacing the real words with “heck” and “darn” and “shoot” and “freak.” Evidently that much hadn’t changed.
“I’m getting you inside.”
“But I can walk!”
“I know, but this will be quicker.”
“And you think I want to be carried like this? I already told you I’m not a sack of potatoes. Do you have to carry me like this?”
He was walking quickly and was already out of breath. Penny wasn’t that big, but she also wasn’t skin and bones. Her body was all soft curves and firm flesh. He could feel it even beneath the wet, heavy clothes she wore. “We’re not on our honeymoon. I’m not your new husband carrying you over the threshold. If I try to carry you another way, we’ll both end up on the ground.”
“Well, I don’t like it.” She was holding on to the back of the flannel shirt he wore to stabilize herself, and it felt strangely intimate.
“You think I do?”
“I don’t know if you do or not. You sound like you’re having a good time.”
He was surprised by her words but, when he thought them through, he realized she was right. He’d always liked Penny, and it had been a long time since he’d interacted with anyone like this.
A long time since he’d felt a woman’s body in any way. Particularly one that felt as good as Penny’s did.
He could hardly tell her that though. “You really think I’m enjoying this?”
“I don’t know. But if you’re about to complain about me being heavy, don’t forget that you’re the one who insisted on picking me up like you’re a caveman who just found himself a woman.”
Leave it to Penny to discourse with him in that unpredictably clever way when she was being hauled around in the middle of a blizzard. “You’re not that heavy.”
“Well, I’m not exactly skinny.”
“What does skinny have to do with anything?” he grumbled. The front door was in sight now, and he headed for it as quickly as he dared. The last thing he wanted was to slip. “I’m not a weakling. You’re not too heavy. I can carry you without any trouble at all.”
“Okay. Fine. Well, hurry up because this is hurting my stomach and my hat is about to fall off.”
He almost laughed, which would have been a mistake. In two minutes he was opening his front door and lifting Penny off his shoulder to set her on the hardwood floor in front of him.
She bent over a little and hugged her arms to her stomach. “Wow. That was weird, and now I’m dizzy.”
“You’re welcome.”
She sneered as she pulled off her cap and gloves and dropped them onto the floor. “Thank you for helping me, but I could have made it on my own, and carrying me like that wasn’t entirely necessary.”
He rubbed the snow out of his beard and shook himself off like a dog. “You’re welcome.”
She was unbuttoning her coat with trembling fingers, and then she dropped the coat onto the floor with the rest of her belongings. The long sweater she wore beneath it was almost as soaked as the coat, and she added that to the pile of clothes at her feet.
Kent’s eyes ran up and down her body before he could stop himself. She wore some sort of long, thin shirt that was clinging to her full breasts and rounded hips. She didn’t have pants on. Just leggings that were also wet and left nothing to the imagination. The sight of all those curves was not good for a man as isolated and physically deprived as he’d been for the past few years.
He wanted to pull the rest of her clothes off. He wanted to slide his hands all over her skin, feeling the shape of her beneath his palms.
He wanted to—
“Kent?” she said sharply. “Are you going to just stand there like a statue, or are you going to get me a towel—and maybe a blanket?”
He blinked. Shook himself off again. “Oh. Yeah. Right. Sure.”
“Thanks.” She limped over to the woodstove he used to heat the small cabin. She warmed herself up while he finished pulling himself together and then went to the bathroom to find a clean towel.
Everything he owned was old and worn except for his computer, so the towel he found was rough and thin.
But she didn’t complain when he handed it to her, and she used it to dry her face, then blot some of the snow out of her hair.
She looked cold and bedraggled and curvy and far prettier than she was supposed to be. She’d already left a mess in his home, which no other woman had set foot in for years. She’d always been like that when she was younger too, spilling over into every space she entered, littering it with art supplies, jewelry and pieces of clothing, snacks she’d brought with her. She filled up rooms with her presence, and it was so strange that she was filling up his space right now.
When he didn’t say anything for a few minutes, she turned to look at him. “It’s okay if I stay here for a few hours until I’m able to leave, isn’t it?”
He swallowed hard. A few hours. With the way it was still snowing and showing no signs of stopping, it was likely to be a lot longer than a few hours.
Penny. In his house. All around him. Turning him on. Driving him crazy. Filling up his world.
“Kent?” she prompted when he didn’t answer. “You’re not going to send me out in this snow, are you?”
“Of course not,” he said, his voice gruff to hide how rattled he was feeling. “You can stay as long as you need to. Hopefully it won’t be too long and you’ll be out of here soon.”
“Nice. I see you’re just as polite and welcoming as always.”
She thought he was being rude, and maybe he was. But it was just because he was suddenly terrified.
He had no idea how he was going to make it through the rest of the day and keep his hands off Penny.
He’d cut himself off from the world a few years ago because he just wasn’t capable of forming healthy relationships, because he was afraid of what or who he might become. Nothing about that had changed.
Which meant touching Penny would be a big mistake.
Three
PENNY WAS COLD AND still so wet that even her underwear felt damp.
She wasn’t sure how that had happened, but she really wanted to change clothes.
There wasn’t much chance of that, however. Not anytime soon. Not stranded here in Kent Matheson’s cottage with the man himself standing on the other side of the room, glowering at her.
He’d been a good glowerer—even back in school when he’d gotten annoyed every time she even teasingly put herself down. Now he’d apparently mastered the art.
“You should change clothes,” he barked out, as if he’d read her mind.
“Into what exactly?”
“Don’t you have something in that bag?”
She frowned and glanced over to her oversized handbag, crocheted by a friend of hers. “No. Why would I carry clothes around in my purse?”
“That’s a purse? It’s so huge I thought you might have been traveling.”
Leave it to Kent to insult her when he’d just rescued her from the snow. “It’s not that huge!”
“Yes, it is. What the hell do you have in there that you have to carry around all the time?”
“Just stuff I need.”
He’d moved closer to her, and he was peering at her with those amber-brown eyes that all the Matheson men had. They looked darker and fiercer than they used to against his rugged face and long, untrimmed beard. He didn’t have a hint left of his baby face. He was all big, hard man and powerful contours. It was unnerving since she wasn’t used to thinking about him like that.
“Like what?” he asked. “The entire contents of your art studio, plus an extra fur coat?”
She reached down to her purse to push back in the small fur cushion that had been peeking out. She’d actually forgotten the cushion was there. She’d stuck it in her purse last week to bring it up to her room, and it had slipped her mind, so she’d never taken it out. “Don’t be a jerk.”
When she glanced up, she saw Kent’s eyes had lowered to her neckline. She glanced down to discover that her top was hanging loose as she was leaning over, exposing a complete view of her breasts and her pretty red bra.
Sucking in a breath, she straightened up with a jerk, jarring her body in a way that made her wince. Her shoulders were sore from catching herself too many times. Her ankle was sore from twisting it. And she’d pulled that muscle in her leg that hurt every time she moved.
She wasn’t feeling good, and Kent could be a little nicer.
And maybe not leer at her cleavage.
Not that he seemed to have been leering. Just looking. His face was impassive, and there was still a scowl on his face.
“I’d be happy to change into something dry and warm,” she said, moving back to the previous conversation without segue because it was the only thing she could think of to say. “But I don’t have anything to put on that’s drier than this.”
“You can wear something of mine if you want. It won’t fit, but at least it won’t be wet.”
“Really?” She was still shivering even though she was starting to warm up standing near the stove like this. “That would be great, if you don’t mind.”
“Whatever. If it stops you from chattering your teeth, I’ll do it.”
Great. Even a somewhat nice gesture from him was hampered by his bad attitude. She gave him a narrow-eyed look that was supposed to express her disdain for him and his behavior and of how little importance he was to her at the same time.
She wasn’t sure how effective the silent look was because he made a huff that might have been amusement before he moved to the old dresser in the far corner of the room near the bed. He rifled through a drawer until he’d pulled out a pair of flannel pants. “These have a drawstring so maybe you’ll be able to keep them on.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
“And here.” He grabbed a T-shirt and a sweatshirt and bundled them up with the pants to hand to her. “The bathroom’s over there.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the clothes and limped to the bathroom, which was small and no-frills with a stand-up shower, a toilet, and a pedestal sink. It looked basically clean however, which was something for a man living alone.
She peeled off the remainder of her wet clothes, including her bra. She hesitated at her panties because she didn’t have anything to replace them, but they were definitely damp and she didn’t want to keep wearing them.
She could go without underwear for a few hours until they dried.
She hung up her bra, panties, leggings, and top in the shower so they could drip dry. Kent wasn’t going to like having female things hanging up all over his bathroom, but he would have to deal.
It wasn’t her fault she’d gotten soaked in the snow.
Well, maybe it was partly her fault. She should have just stayed home.
But Kent didn’t have to know that.
She wasn’t very good at keeping secrets since everything that passed through her mind tended to come spilling out of her, but she’d try to keep that one from him. He’d just scoff at her if he knew she could have chosen to stay home this afternoon.
He’d probably gotten as good at scoffing as he had at glowering.
She pulled on the T-shirt and sweatshirt, and they were both too big and too long, but they were warm and dry, so she didn’t care. Then she pulled on the flannel pants.
Kent must have worn them a lot because the fabric was soft and faded. She snickered as she tied the drawstring. The pants were quite loose around the waist and far too long, but they wouldn’t have fallen down on her, despite what Kent had assumed.
Her butt and hips were too wide for the pants to fall down, even without the drawstring.
She had to lean over to roll up the legs so she could walk, but then she was satisfied with her outfit.
When she looked in the mirror, she decided she looked like a bundle of clothes rather than a female body, but that didn’t matter. At least she was dry.
She went to the bathroom quickly, washed her hands and her face with warm water, and felt a lot better as she came out to the main room.
The cabin consisted of a small kitchenette against one wall, a table covered with clutter that looked like Kent’s work, a worn couch, a television, and a double bed near the dresser.
That was it.
Kent lived his life in this small stoic space.
Kind of depressing.
There wasn’t even art on the walls.
“So those are okay?” Kent asked, appearing at her side without warning and making her jerk.
“Don’t scare me like that.”
“Like what? You knew I was still in the house, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t see you there.”
“I was standing right here the whole time.”
“Well, I didn’t see you.” She frowned at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Me? Never.” Despite his words, his mouth was wobbling beneath his beard. “I’m sure it’s perfectly normal to be surprised by a man you knew was already in the room.”
She felt a little like laughing too. Sometimes she wished she could hold on to righteous indignation the way Olivia could, but she just didn’t have the knack for it. Anger and annoyance had never felt very important to her. “I just didn’t expect you to be so close.”
“You want me to wear a cowbell?”
“No. Just don’t sneak up on me.” She sniffed and glanced down at herself. “And the clothes are fine. Thanks for lending them. Can you spare a pair of socks?”
“Oh. Sure.”
As he went to get them, she went over to the woodstove to keep warming her hands. “This thing puts out a lot of heat.”
“Yeah. It’s all I need in a place
this small.” He was beside her again, handing her the socks.
She took them, slanting him a quick look and wondering if he’d always been this sexy or if her mind was muddled by the crisis. Something about the breadth of his shoulders and the roughness of his beard and the color of his eyes. They made her shiver in an entirely different way.
“You’re still cold? Even wearing all that stuff?”
She wasn’t about to admit why she’d been shivering, so she just said, “My feet are still cold! Do you have to grumble about everything in the world?”
“Was I grumbling?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“It sure sounded like you were grumbling. If you’re not in a bad mood, you might consider altering the timbre of your voice to distinguish your good moods from your bad moods.” She went to the couch to pull on the thick socks he’d given her, and it was more comfortable than standing, so she stayed put.
“Okay. I’ll work on that.” He’d turned around to face her, and he kept watching as she folded up her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Are you still cold? You want a blanket?”
“I wouldn’t say no to one.”
He was chuckling for real as he grabbed one from the bed and dragged it over to her.
It smelled like him. Warm and masculine and woodsy. She wrapped it around herself and reminded herself she wasn’t here to appreciate Kent’s masculinity. She was here because she had no other choice.
“You want some coffee?”
“I can’t drink coffee after midmorning or I’ll never sleep. Do you have any hot chocolate?”
He was still laughing as he walked toward the kitchen. “Yes, I have some hot chocolate.”
“Yay. Thank you.” Since he was doing something nice for her, she smiled at him. He didn’t exactly smile back, but he’d lost his typical grouchy look, so that was something.
As he started heating up water, she suddenly remembered her sisters. Olivia and Laura had both been driving out in this weather too. Hopefully they’d fared better than she had.
