Chapter 3 Frostbite, Firefights, and First-Base
Frostbite, Firefights, and First-Base
GWEN
Jesus, it’s freaking cold! It’s as if the whole state of Indiana has taken part in an Arctic Polar Plunge Challenge.
I need to get to my apartment—which isn’t that far away.
Sadly, my car battery didn’t like the cold, so now I have to hoof it, and that sucks.
Once I get home, I’ll get my neighbor to give me a ride to work.
Kimber works the same shift as me, so she can drop me off at the house tonight.
I have tomorrow off, so I’ll deal with the whole battery thing then.
Of course, all that is dependent on making it home without freezing my ass off.
When I get to the other side of the crosswalk, I fish out my phone.
I dial my neighbor’s number so I can let her know I need her to drop me off at the hospital on her way to work.
By the fifth ring, I feel a little panicked.
It’s early enough that she should be home.
Just as I’m about to hang up, she picks up.
“Hello,” Illa answers, her voice raspy, cracking, and congested.
“Illa?”
“Yes,” she responds, sounding half dead.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, my teeth beginning to chatter.
“My kid gave me strep,” she says, coughing—the sound of which is painful even to hear.
“I’m sorry. I was going to hitch a ride to work, but obviously you’re not going anywhere today.”
“Afraid not. I’m pretty sure I’m dying later.”
I giggle, despite the cold. “No worries. Get better. I’ll check on you after my shift.”
“Bye, Gwennie.”
“Bye, Illa.”
I hang up the phone with a sigh. “Shit,” I grumble.
“Something wrong?” someone asks behind me. It startles me so much I jump into the air and squeal like a little kid. “Woah, be careful,” the man’s deep voice says, his hand settling on my hips.
My body goes taut. I’m afraid to move—or breathe.
I twist my upper body to look over my shoulder.
Behind me is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
A huge mountain of a man with chocolate eyes and matching hair.
He’s wearing faded jeans and a motorcycle cut over a black thermal.
His hair is cut short, but the top is shaggy.
The five o’clock shadow he’s wearing is scruffy and hot-as-hell.
He reeks of trouble—which sadly always seems to be my type.
I turn back around, needing a minute of not staring at his perfection to gather my chaotic thoughts back in order. It’s then I realize he still has his hands on my hips and they’re burning into me, branding my body with nothing more than his touch.
Shit. I think I’m in trouble.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, and I force my feet to move so I finally step away from him. I immediately miss his hold on me, but I push that down. It’s completely insane.
I finally turn to face him, although I don’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah, I just need to get going, though. I’m going to be late for work.”
“You’re going to freeze to death. Can I drive you to your vehicle?”
“I’m walking home. I don’t live far,” I explain, feeling stupid when his gaze hits me, making it clear he thinks I’m insane.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Um … I don’t know you.”
“I’m Horse. What’s your name?”
“What kind of name is Horse?”
“My road name.” He gives me a devilish smirk. “I’ll tell you how I got the name later.”
My eyes go round as saucers. “Um … That’s okay.”
“What’s your name?”
“Gwen.”
“Nice to meet you, Gwen. Now you know me. Let’s go.”
“I can’t leave with you. You could be a serial killer, an axe murderer, a lawyer—anything!”
His full lips jerk slightly as if he’s fighting a laugh escaping his beautiful mouth. “You categorize lawyers with serial killers and axe murderers?”
“Mm … it’s probably an insult to axe murderers and serial killers, but yeah.”
“Wouldn’t an axe murderer be the same as a serial killer?”
“Only if they’ve offed more than one person. Really, it should probably be over three. I’m not sure of the official rules.”
“You’re cute, Holly. Now, let’s get your ass in my truck before you turn into ice.”
“I told you my name is Gwen, not Holly,” I mutter. It’s a blow to the ego that the guy can’t even remember my name.
“I remember, but you’re dressed like Santa’s wet dream, and I’ve always had a crush on Holly in Frosty the Snowman. Your blonde hair reminds me of hers. So, you’re Holly.”
“Holly? She’s a kid!”
“So was I when I watched it. Don’t get it twisted. When I look at you, I don’t see a kid. I see a fucking gorgeous woman. One I’d like in my bed, so I’d rather she not freeze her tits off out here. Can we get a move on?”
I stare at him, unable to reply right away. I couldn’t even if my life depended on it. “My name is Gwen. You don’t need to know that, because I don’t plan on talking to you again—”
“Sweetheart—”
“You’re an asshole, and I don’t let assholes into my life,” I snap.
I turn to walk away at the exact same moment I hear firecrackers go off extremely close to me.
I turn to look, and I see the man I had just berated grab his stomach.
Immediately, bright red begins blooming through his shirt.
I instantly go into work mode. I close the distance between us, but before I can check him over, another round of popping noises begins.
I let out a scream, but the man who arrogantly calls himself Horse, pulls me down and then he does something that robs me of breath completely.
He lays his entire body over me—and my dog—using his own as a shield.
He's protecting us with his own body. Seriously, he made a special effort to pull Baby underneath him and cradle his shaking little body. Who does that?
“It’s going to be okay, Gwen,” he says, his voice thick as sirens ring in the distance. I look into his beautiful chocolaty eyes, and I lick my lips when I see the intensity in them staring back at me.
I should be worried about one of us dying—or the fact that there’s a drive-by shooting in the town I’ve lived in all my life. Instead, all I can think is I really want to kiss this man.
So, that’s exactly what I do.
Holy Mother of God, doing that is either the best thing I’ve ever done in my life, or the worst. I’m too busy having this man kiss the life out of me to figure it out. The only thing I truly know for sure is that there is no way I will ever be the same again.
No. Freaking. Way.