CHAPTER THREE
Elle
I shut myself in the bathroom the second Harrison pointed me toward it.
Leaning against the door, I tried to get myself under control.
The first thing I did was take off my jacket.
Because honestly it was a couple of sizes too small.
But, it had started to feel like the only armor I had left between me and Harrison.
A man who left me breathless just by being in the same room.
Did driving up a mountain suddenly scramble my brain?
And why was my body betraying me all of a sudden?
I didn’t do men.
I mean I did do men.
Just not arrogant ones. Ones who thought their titles and wealth came with a side of automatic deference.
The ones who talked to my chest instead of my face.
Harrison Cole had shut a door in my face within the first ten seconds of meeting me.
He should have been the easiest man in the world to write off.
He was not being the easiest man in the world to write off.
In college I’d thought I’d had a boyfriend, until I’d woken up and realized that he’d been using me for my math skills and free food.
I’d given him my virginity because I thought that’s what you did in college.
Have wild and raunchy sex. Honestly, it hadn’t even been good sex.
Much less wild and raunchy. We’d done it twice before I’d dropped him like a hot potato.
My only other experience had been with a consultant at the first company I’d worked for straight out of college. He’d shown me a little interest when my self-esteem had been low. The morning after I’d found out he was married.
A knock landed on the door, rapid and impatient. Just like the man.
I opened the door to find him standing there. Again, those dark eyes roamed over me, making my breath catch.
“You need warm clothes,” he said, and held them out. A black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. I wasn’t going to argue with him. It would be lovely to change out of my thrift store dress I’d bought more for style than comfort.
I took them, our fingers brushing for half a second longer than the handoff required. “Thank you.”
“Don’t get used to the service.” He didn’t move right away. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I won’t.”
“Didn’t think you would.” And then he was gone, footsteps heading back down the hall, and I shut the door and stood there a second longer than the moment strictly called for. Holding up the shirt, it didn’t look like it would fit over my chest. But then I remembered he had a very broad chest.
After undressing I stood in the bathroom wearing nothing but my underwear, staring at my reflection.
Something I didn’t do very often. There was no getting around the fact that I was curvy.
Curvy in a way that had gotten me called solid.
My bra kept my breasts high and perky. And my hips were in direct proportion to my breasts.
Did Harrison think that too? I shivered at the thought. At the thought of him wanting me.
That didn’t prevent me from lifting his clothes to my nose and taking a deep breath. They smelled like laundry detergent. Of course, he wouldn’t have handed me previously worn clothing. More’s the pity.
I had to admit I felt warmer than I had in hours. The heater in my car had only managed to drive off the edge of cold as I’d traveled further into the mountains.
He was in the kitchen when I came back out, the light catching the wide line of his shoulders as he moved, like a man who’d never once burned toast in his life.
“Sit,” he said, nodding at one of the stools at the island.
I sat.
He set a plate in front of me. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a thick slice of ham. Simple. Hot. The smell made my stomach twist.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re hungry.” He didn’t raise his voice. He just stood there, arms crossed, waiting.
“Bossy,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
“Observant,” he corrected. “Eat.”
I stared at the plate, trying to remember when someone had cooked for me. I couldn’t. “I don’t need you to feed me.”
“I didn’t ask what you needed. Eat.” A pause, and something almost gentler underneath the flat delivery. “Eat, Elle.”
He hadn’t called me by name once since I’d arrived. It shouldn’t have worked on me as well as it did. I picked up the fork mostly out of spite and took a bite. Then another. Damn him, it was good.
He came back with a cup of coffee and set it in front of me. When he reached past me for the sugar, his arm brushed my shoulder.
It was nothing. A second of contact. Barely there.
But I felt it.
He froze for half a heartbeat too.
His eyes met mine, closer than they’d been since he’d shoved me through the door earlier. Dark and steady and suddenly very aware. I could smell the soap on his skin. My pulse kicked hard against my throat.
I should have looked away. I didn’t.
Neither did he.
He straightened, putting a careful foot of space back between us as he leaned against the counter a few feet away, drinking coffee and watching the snow pile up outside.
“So how long have you worked for my grandfather?”
“Just under a year.”
“Long enough to have opinions about me, then.”
I glanced up the fork halfway to my mouth. “A few. Want to hear them, or would that bruise something?”
That grim mouth of his tugged, almost, at one corner. “Go ahead. I don’t bruise easy.”
“Fine. You’re rude. You’re arrogant. And you’re used to people backing off the second you give them that stern look. Which — for the record — I’m not going to do.”
“Noted.” He didn’t look remotely bothered. If anything, he looked pleased, which annoyed me more than if he’d argued. “Anything else?”
“You cook a better breakfast than I expected from a man who slammed a door in my face.”
“Low bar.”
“You’d be surprised how many men can’t even clear it.”
He didn’t say anything, just studied me with that broody look of his.
“You really should look at the contract. Your grandfather would like your opinion.”
He didn’t say anything, just turned to the sink and started washing the few dishes he’d used to fix my food.
My thoughts turned to my boss. I didn’t know exactly what had been happening with him, just that he hadn’t been himself lately.
Looking at Harrison’s face, I wondered if the man knew what was going on. And more importantly, would he care? I knew the basics of his story. He’d abruptly walked away from his family’s business about ten years ago, burying himself in the mountains of Montana.
I ate the last of the eggs and got up, carrying my plate and silverware to the sink. Without asking, or being told, I picked up a dishtowel and started drying them.
Glancing at the clock, I realized it was later than I thought. Was it too early to retreat with some dignity intact?
But seeing the set of his jaw, I realized that was exactly what I needed to do. He hadn’t invited me here and certainly hadn’t expected to put up with an overnight guest. “Do you think the snow will have melted off by morning?”
“It should. The temperature’s not much below freezing. Snow this early in the season usually doesn’t last.” He took the dishtowel from my hand, careful not to touch me again. Which I noticed. Which I hated that I noticed. “Guest room’s ready. Try to sleep.”
“Goodnight, Harrison.” I turned to go when the too-long hem of his sweatpants caught under my bare heel.
The floor tilted. I pitched forward with an undignified sound somewhere between a gasp and a curse. His arm banded around my waist before I’d finished falling.
“Careful,” he said, low, right next to my ear.
“Your pants are trying to kill me.” I should have stepped away.
His arm was still around me, warm and solid, and I could feel every place his chest pressed against my back.
I turned my head instead and found his face closer than I’d expected.
His jaw was a rough line I could have traced with my finger if I’d been the kind of woman who did reckless things.
I’d never been that kind of woman. Standing there with his arm still around my waist, I was starting to resent that about myself.
“Goodnight, Harrison,” I said again, quieter this time, looking up at him.
For a second he didn’t let go, his eyes moving over my face.
I took a page out of his book and closed off my expression before he saw too much.
I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, and I’d only known this man for a few hours.
I sent up a prayer for a warm overnight gale to engulf the mountain and melt away the snow.
His arm finally loosened, and he stepped back, putting careful space between us again. “Goodnight, Elle.”
I walked down the hall in his too-big clothes, heart still beating too fast, and lay in the dark of the guest room wondering, in a completely unhelpful and entirely unwanted way, what he’d taste like.
Frosty Mountain Man. I’d started calling him that in my head when the door had shut in my face. Except frosty men weren’t supposed to make a woman’s pulse do this. And ones like Harrison Cole weren’t supposed to be worth the trouble of wanting.