Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
“Let me guess. You were the one driving the little wind-up car earlier,” he mutters.
“Electric car,” I quickly correct, already deciding I don’t like this guy.
He has that whole backwoods country boy charm that suggests city slickers don’t belong on his mountain. Ugh, I can already hear the executives planning a movie about a bearded lumberjack who looks exactly like this guy.
“Well, where is this fine piece of machinery?” he asks with a lifted brow as if he already knows the answer.
I want to hold onto my pride and tell him to stuff it like a Thanksgiving turkey. But I don’t love the idea of walking for another three hours with no guarantee that I’ll find anyone else to give me a ride. With a tinge of defeat to my tone, I finally admit, “On the side of the road.”
He smirks, and it does something funny to my insides. It makes me feel like I’m floating. “Do you and your…cotton ball…want a ride?”
“His name is Killer, and he is a savage beast that can rip a man limb from limb. He’s very protective, more of an attack dog than a companion.” I’m sure I look very menacing as the wind howls, and I shiver. I am never taking another trip by myself again.
His smirk grows into a grin. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
I follow his gaze to see Frosty cowering behind my jingly shoes. So much for making both of us look tough and strong in front of the potential lunatic. Now he knows it’s him versus me and…yeah, I guess he does kind of look like a cotton ball.
“It’s warm in my truck,” The stranger says though he still hasn’t stopped grinning like he finds this whole situation funny.
I sigh, knowing I have to get back for the holiday party. If I leave in time, maybe I can stop Bobby from dooming both of us by proposing. “Can you get me off this stupid mountain?”
Chapter 3
Hunter
Damn, she’s prettier up close than she was out the window. It’s my first thought as the curvy elf climbs into my truck. Her green pointed shoes with the jingle bells on them make the most adorable noise.
They’re soaked through, and my heart twists as I remember too many winters as a kid with cold feet. I turn the heater on full blast and aim it at her and her puffy companion.
Then I reach into the back behind her seat and grab the blanket I keep in here for the dogs. Doesn’t smell the best, but it beats losing toes to frostbite.
When I pull it free, I realize I’ve leaned into her personal space. She’s so tiny that I expect her to shrink back against the door. I saw the debate raging on her face when I pulled up and offered the ride. She desperately wanted it, but a lifetime of urban legends has trained her to be cautious.
Her gaze goes to my lips, and fuck me. It makes my heart skip a beat. You’re too damn hard to love. Don’t know why I bother. The words from my past come back to me, and I straighten, leaving her space.
I toss the blanket between us. “Take your shoes off. You’ll lose toes that way.”
“Uh, thanks,” she murmurs. But instead of worrying about herself, she takes the booties off her dog. She carefully dries each of his little paws, and Killer, the fierce protector, makes a noise of contentment.
I start the truck, continuing on the road to my cabin. She asked me to get her off this stupid mountain which I have every intention of doing. After the snowstorm.
She peels the wet slippers from her feet. Her skin is mottled from the cold, and she hisses as she dries them. “Thanks for the ride. Do you have a phone I could call my sister on? I don’t want her to worry.”
“Cell tower is down,” I grunt out.
“Oh, any idea when it’s going to be back up?” When she’s finished with her feet, she pulls a ponytail holder from her tiny candy-cane-shaped purse.
My cab fills with the scent of her shampoo. It’s something light and floral that makes it difficult for me to think clearly. “I reckon after the storm.”
“The executives would eat you up.”
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, so I keep quiet. She does too and we spend the next twenty minutes without speaking a word.
Finally, she’s the one to break the silence. “Not to complain, but I’d like to get off the mountain, and you seem to be taking me further into it.”
“Taking you to my cabin,” I answer and realize a split second too late that my answer is making her nervous.
“And that’s where you have a very nice and normal life?” She fiddles with her phone, no doubt desperately hoping a text or phone call goes through.