Chapter 4
FOUR
Lake
There are tiny pinpricks of pain in my ankle.
Like a swarm of little bees are stinging me—except all at once, like eight or ten of them have surrounded my ankle to mount a coordinated attack.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, breaking away from the woman’s surprisingly captivating emerald eyes—the color of the slender, green needles of the pine trees surrounding this road, when they aren’t being hidden beneath the snow that is falling faster by the second anyway.
I glance down and see…
“What the fuck is that?” I ask, lifting my ankle, the creature—and apparently the source of those pinpricks of pain radiating up my leg.
The woman gasps and yanks the tiny demon off my ankle, sending razor blades of sensation along my skin—even through my jeans and socks—then cradles the creature against her chest. “Steve is not a that. Steve is a pug and he’s the most adorable of all adorable pug puppies in the whole world.”
I lift a brow at the smooshed-up face of what is apparently a dog. “He’s a puppy?”
She narrows her eyes, hugs him tighter. “Okay, so maybe he isn’t a puppy, but Steve is still the most adorable dog on the planet.”
“Your dog’s name is Steve?”
Those emerald eyes narrow further, and her chin comes up. “Steve is a perfectly acceptable name for a dog.”
I shrug. “If you say so.”
“I—” I smirk and a flash of stubbornness settles across her face. “Just go on with your life, yeah?” she snaps. “And leave me to mine.”
“So I can get questioned by the police”—or worse, blasted on social media—“when your frozen body is discovered on the side of the road and people find out that I’ve abandoned you during Snowmageddon?”
Her head tilts to the side. “What the hell is Snowmageddon?”
I look to the sky. Back at her.
Then to the sky again—to the darkness, to the thick clouds, to the fucking blizzard settling in around us.
And I decide I’ve had enough of this conversation.
I bend, snatch the creature from her arms—which is snorting and snotting and making noises that belong to a fucking demon and not a dog—and then I turn toward my SUV, ignoring her shout of protest as I stride toward my car and dump the creature in the passenger’s seat.
It growls at me and I narrow my eyes, silently telling it to stay there if it wants to live, then close the door.
Last thing I need right now is the little shit running off into the snow.
I’m not a total asshole.
I’d go after it.
But I’d be pissed off about it—or more pissed anyway.
The tiny demon’s head appears in the window, teeth bared, but I ignore the sight that should be in a horror film and move back to the woman.
“What the fuck are you—?” The rest of her question cuts off with an outraged gasp as I snatch her purse over her head, reach past her, and grab a bag from the floor of the car.
I walk away, toss the shit in the back seat of mine.
“—doing?” she exclaims as I come back, look to see if there’s anything else.
When I don’t spot anything, I slam the door and glare at the annoying woman with those emerald eyes and a butterfly stud in her nose, and ask, “Anything in the trunk?”
And yeah, I can see she’s definitely got something in her trunk, and it’s a big, juicy ass that tempts a man.
Just not enough to tempt me.
“I—” She frowns. “What?”
“Anything.” I pause, glance toward the back of the car. “In the trunk.”
Wide eyes on mine. Then she seems to shake herself. “My suitcase is—”
I’m moving before she finishes the statement, wrestling with the trunk’s latch for far longer than I want to, the cold already settling heavier over me, sinking into my hands.
She has to be freezing in those fucking sneakers.
Finally, the latch pops open and I grab the bags filling the inside.
“Hey,” she exclaims. “Don’t touch—”
I sling them over my shoulder, look back at her as I slam the trunk. “Lock your car and come on.”
A long, slow blink.
I ignore that she looks pretty when she’s a little discombobulated.
The world is full of beautiful women.
She’s nothing special.
Plus, her dog is ugly.
I open the door, chuck the bags in the back seat with the rest of her shit, and slam it shut again.
When I turn around, she’s standing there, just inches away, and I catch the slightest hint of cinnamon on the air. The snow’s still falling and the wind is still blowing, but in that moment, it seems as though the world has quieted.
I shake my head once hard, sending that sensation from my mind.
The wind rushes back in, the world intruding abruptly.
Coldly.
I glance behind her, see that her car appears secure—or as much as it can be when it’s sitting in a snowbank on the side of the road, rapidly being covered with even more of the white fluffy shit.
Good enough.
I open the passenger’s seat, dodge the dog that takes a run at me, snot flying, teeth bared, and order, “Get in.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but—thank fuck—starts to climb in.
I react without thinking, grasping her hand, steadying her as she steps onto the slick, black running board.
Her head whips around, deep green eyes locking with mine for a moment.
Time stilling. The wind quieting again. The cold fading away.
Her skin is soft, her fingers fit in mine like two pieces of a puzzle coming together.
Sparks of sensation along my palm, up my arm, toward my heart—
“Woof!”
I shake myself, all but shove her the rest of the way inside.
Then, fingers flexing, that prickling awareness acute, I step back.
I glance down at my hand, expecting…it to look different.
But it’s just the same.
The wind gusts and I plummet back into reality—ankle hurting, temperature dropping by the second, snow falling harder. Sighing, I ignore the woman and dog tossing twin glares at me through the window, round the hood, and get into the driver’s seat.
Thankfully, she’s clutching the dog to her chest so it can’t take another run at me.
I grind my teeth together as I buckle in, jabbing at the button to turn on the engine, putting my car into drive, and reaching forward—
There are fucking bite marks on my steering wheel.