Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I’m fine, but I have a bit of a situation.
Tension cranked Denver’s shoulders tight as he ordered Oscar into the backseat of the truck.
He’d come home for a fast game of fetch when the storm died down, but it would have to wait.
The dog leapt in, rubber ball clamped between his teeth, as if he sensed now was not the time to dally. It wasn’t.
Denver hadn’t asked if Misty was injured or what kind of shape the van was in. She’d said she was fine. But his brain readily filled in a multitude of horrors as he drove because he knew better than many that “fine” often wasn’t.
I’m fine, but there’s something weird on some of my tests.
That had been what his dad said. He hadn’t been fine.
Not even close. Denver knew this wasn’t the same thing, but he couldn’t seem to stop the churn of anxiety in his gut.
The leather on the steering wheel creaked beneath the clench of his fingers. What the hell was wrong with him?
The van sat half on, half off the road, tipped a bit from the flat, but upright and otherwise undamaged.
Misty was already sliding out of the driver’s seat as he parked along the opposite shoulder.
No blood, no bruises, no visible injury, though her cheeks were pale and the hand she lifted in a sheepish wave was a bit shaky.
His visual inspection confirmed what his rational mind already knew—she was okay.
But he couldn’t quite stop himself from pulling her in, running his hands over her.
“You’re okay.” It wasn’t a question anymore. He could see for himself, feel for himself.
Misty reached up to frame his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Denver, I’m not hurt. Really. The airbag didn’t even go off. The van is fine other than the tire.”
Fine. He really hated that word. If she’d blown out two more miles up the road, she might’ve spun into the rock wall of the pass.
Denver rode out a faint shudder. As soon as he got her settled back home and warm, he’d check the other tires and the oil and every other damned thing that could potentially go wrong.
When was the last time she’d had it serviced? Who was looking out for her?
But he finally sucked in a proper breath and dropped his brow to hers, feeling himself settle with the contact.
He didn’t like worrying about her. Didn’t like what that said about how important he’d let her become in so short a time.
But he liked thinking about all that even less, so he took another breath and stepped back to address the more immediate problem. “We need to get the van moved.”
She turned to face it with him. “I wasn’t sure if I should move it or if I even could. I mean, obviously it’s a road hazard as it is now but the tire is toast. Nobody has been by, thankfully.”
Heedless of the rain soaking through his t-shirt and cargo shorts, he circled around the vehicle and immediately saw the problem.
The remaining rear tire was wedged against a fallen tree, not in contact with the ground.
With the wet roadway, there was no way to get enough traction to pull it straight out.
Denver joined her back at the truck, where she’d cracked the door to reach in and scratch around Oscar’s ears. “It’s front-wheel drive. I’m gonna hook up a chain to my truck and help you ease it back onto the road and straighten up a bit. Then I’ll put on the new tire.”
“I really appreciate it.” Shutting the door, she stepped into him, eyes searching his face with an expression he couldn’t quite read. She squeezed his arm. “Thank you for coming.”
Denver laid a hand over hers. “Anytime.”
It took longer than he wanted, but eventually they managed to get the van more or less straightened up and out of the flow of the non-existent traffic.
He tried to convince Misty to get back inside, out of the rain, but she pointed out that they were both drenched already, so there wasn’t much point.
Conceding, he hauled out the jack and spare from the back of the van and went to work.
Having something physical to do gave him somewhere to put all that nervous energy that had been coiling since she called.
The frantic edge was gone by the time he began to tighten the last of the nuts and she’d cancelled the tow from Thompson’s.
“You should be all set.” Denver replaced the jack and hefted the flat, carrying it over to his truck.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll get this taken care of for you.” He set the rim into the bed of his truck. He’d take a closer look later to see if it needed replacing.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
Denver just leveled her with a look. “I can get away in the middle of the day when they’re open easier than you can.”
Misty’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if she didn’t quite know what to do with that. If she thought it violated her female independence or something, that was just too damned bad. He wanted to look out for her, damn it.
“Thank you.”
He just nodded. “Go on and get in. I’ll follow you home.”
She opened her mouth like she was going to say he didn’t have to do that either, then apparently thought better of it. “You can at least dry off when we get there.”
The rain seemed to have downgraded from thunderstorm to heavy drizzle by the time they got to her little house.
He parked behind her van. As soon as the door opened, Oscar scrambled over Denver’s lap to race to the van for his own sniff test to verify Misty was okay.
Then he spun three quick circles, sneezing the whole time, and bolted for the front door.
Denver could hear Moxie barking from inside.
Misty unlocked the door, herding the dogs through the house and out the back. “I’ll go grab towels.”
Denver didn’t stand around. He went straight to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She needed to get dry and have a warm beverage. Even as the coffee began to drip, he wondered if she’d rather have tea. He probably should have asked first.
“Oh coffee. Thanks.” Misty passed him one of the pile of towels. “Do you have to get back to work soon?”
“It’s covered.” He’d called in Kennedy to man the bar in exchange for an extra few days off after her upcoming honeymoon. Worth it.
She opened the back door and the dogs streaked in. “Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Paws, Miss Priss.”
Moxie barked and delicately lifted one paw at a time for Misty to wipe them off.
Denver lunged for Oscar, managing to get the towel over him before he shook off all over the kitchen. “Manners, remember? Stand still.”
Oscar grumbled and fidgeted, twisting to keep an adoring gaze on Moxie, but Denver finally got him as dry as he could. As soon as he let go, the dog rocketed to his lady, barking and sniffing in a play bow. Moxie wriggled, wagging her little tail and prancing off into the living room.
Misty laughed. “Settle, you two. Go take a nap or something.”
Her skirt was still dripping on the kitchen floor, her skin pebbled into gooseflesh in the air conditioning.
Now that the crisis, such as it was, was past, Denver had a moment to take in the rest of her.
The skirt molded to her full hips and perfect ass.
The hair plastered in wet tendrils to her cheeks and neck.
The cotton tank that clung to her breasts was one of those deals with a built in bra, and it did nothing to hide the nipples pearled from the cold.
A rush of heat shot straight through him as he thought about taking those nipples in his mouth.
Not the time. Curling his fingers into his palms, Denver jerked his eyes back to her face. “You’re soaked to the skin. You need to change into dry clothes and warm up.” Okay, so his voice had gone rough as sandpaper. He was only human. But he could still be a damned gentleman.
She grabbed one of the other towels and strode over to him, big brown eyes warm and sparkling. In one, quick motion, she looped it over his head and around his neck to tug him closer, until barely an inch separated their wet bodies.
“I definitely agree with getting out of wet clothes, but I have other ideas for how we can warm up.”
Now it was his turn to gape like a damned fish. “I wasn’t expecting…You don’t have to…”
One corner of her mouth kicked up. “This isn’t because you rescued me. Although I’m happy to show my appreciation on that front. I’ve been thinking about this since that kiss in your kitchen. Longer, really.”
Well, shit, so had he. He curled his hands around her hips, loving how the lush curve of them fit in his palms. “I figured to romance you a while longer.”
“Oh, you can still do that. But I don’t see any reason why that should preclude getting naked together.”
Whatever blood was left in his brain drained south.
Misty tightened her hold on the towel and rose to her toes, bringing her mouth within a breath of his. “I know you like for things to be crystal clear, so consider this my enthusiastic consent. Take me to bed, Denver.”
At her words, Denver’s eyes went dark as storm clouds.
He growled, a deep, primal sound that made all Misty’s girly parts flutter in anticipation.
Then his mouth was on hers in a claiming kiss.
No hesitation, just raw need and enough heat she wondered that the water didn’t simply evaporate off them both.
God. This was what lay behind that ruthless control of his. Power and a potent hunger. For her.
Misty thrilled at the idea of it, at the taste of him flooding her mouth as she opened for him.
His hands curled around her hips in that possessive way she’d come to love, and she pressed closer, feeling the bulge of his erection straining against the zipper of his cargo shorts. She needed to touch him. To see him.
Releasing the towel, she tunneled her hands under his shirt, breaking the kiss long enough for him to wrench it up and off. The fabric hit the floor with a sodden thud. When he reached for her again, she held up a hand, pressing it to his muscled chest.
“Let me look at you.”