Chapter Three
Whiskey eyes slowly scanned her from across the center console of his big-ass, he-man truck. Snow stuck to his brows. It melted from his lashes. Without taking his gaze off her face, the man removed his gloves, holding large hands in front of the warm air coming out of the vents.
Despite it, Breanna still shivered. Her breath sawed in and out, chest heaving with exertion from lugging her duffel bag on her shoulder a mere ten feet against the blinding winter storm that pummeled them. She’d held onto her savior, gripping the belt loop of his jeans, until they reached the truck door, and he lifted her off her feet, slinging her inside.
Teeth chattering, Breanna asked him, “What about my car?”
“What about it?” Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he lowered his hands to his thighs.
“I can’t just leave it like that.”
“Well, it’s not going anywhere.” With a shake of his head, he snickered, releasing the parking brake. “There’s a garage down in the village. You can call when you get to Dalton House. They’re used to towing girly cars off the mountain.”
Rolling her eyes, she abruptly angled her head. “Wait, how’d you know that’s where I was going?”
“Lucky guess, Miss Dalton.” He winked. “Overheard you and Hank.”
“Oh.” She pursed her lips to one side. “I don’t even know your name.”
Except for the fact he was hella gorgeous, and he thought little of her car, Breanna didn’t know one damn thing about this man. She could just hear Kayleigh in her head.
Stranger danger, girl!He could be a serial killer or something.
Maybe. But at the moment, he was her only salvation. It’s not like she had any other choice.
“Sinjin.”
She coughed, choking down a fit of giggles that threatened to burst from her throat. “Sinjin? What the hell kind of name is that?”
“Old English.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “It’s a family name.”
“Oh.” Breanna pressed her lips together.
Stepping on the clutch, Sinjin put the truck in gear. “Let’s go. Storm’s only going to get worse.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, tugging at the cuff of her jacket. Looking through the windshield, there was nothing to see but swirling white. “Think we’ll make it okay?”
With a click of his tongue, he winked. “Sure as hell gonna try.”
“Try?” Feigning a smile, Breanna expelled the air from her lungs. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
“Nothing to fret about, princess.” Easing the Raptor around her stranded Miata, Sinjin chuckled. “Hang on. Enjoy the ride.”
A handle protruded from the interior beside her for exactly that purpose. Holding onto it with both hands, she side-eyed him. He appeared unruffled, but the precariousness of their predicament was palpable, at least to her. Breanna wanted to ask him just how in the fuck he could see where he was going. She didn’t dare break his focus.
Sitting tall in his seat, Sinjin commanded the vehicle. The road she couldn’t discern. Maybe it was familiarity with the mountain or the surround-view camera images on the screen that guided him, but after ten minutes that felt like ten hours, with the storm intensifying, he turned left off the pass.
Under the cover of the pine, visibility improved a little. Breanna could make out shapes, anyway. Sinjin chanced a glance at her. “You only missed it by a hundred feet.”
“No fucking way. This is where I was supposed to turn?”
“And the princess has a potty mouth.”
She didn’t believe for a second that he was offended and didn’t give a damn if he was. “It’s a versatile word.”
He snorted.
“How much farther?” Breanna inquired.
“We’ve got a ways yet.”
It had taken them ten minutes to go a measly hundred feet. She didn’t know how far “a ways” meant—one mile? Two? Hell, at this rate, it could be hours before they got there.
Sinjin picked up the pace somewhat, but the grade was steep, and their progress slow. She could make out tall, menacing formations on either side. Trees, Breanna. They’re just trees. But bending back and forth, branches looked like arms, eerily waving, as if beckoning them.
“Fuck.”
“Guess I’m not the only one with a potty mouth,” she said, turning her face from the window to look at him. The truck came to a halt. Sinjin engaged the parking brake. “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
Breanna followed his gaze to a fallen pine blocking their way. “This cannot be happening. Can we get around it?”
“On foot.” He glanced down at her duffel. “You got a warmer jacket in there?”
“Why?”
“You’re gonna need it.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? You said we had a ways to go yet.” Emphatically shaking her head, Breanna snapped, “We’ll die out there!”
“Would you rather die in here?” Reaching into the seat behind him, Sinjin tossed her a blanket. “Wrap this around you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
But apparently, he was. Throwing the truck in reverse, he made a three-point turn. Backtracking for a while, he suddenly veered off to the right, maneuvering the truck through the swaying pines. Until he couldn’t. Sinjin shut off the engine. He turned toward her then, head cocked, his commanding expression silencing any further dissent.
Looking away from him, Breanna bundled herself in a beanie of knitted wool, scarf, and gloves. Reaching down to the floorboard, she pulled her duffel bag onto her lap.
“Leave it.”
“But I need my stuff.”
“Listen, you don’t need no books, or ballgowns, or whatever the fuck you’ve got in there, where we’re going. It’s gonna be hard enough just walking in this shit.” He placed the blanket around her shoulders. Tying the ends together tight, his features softened. “Leave it.”
With a nod, she licked her lips. “Okay.”
“There’s a cabin, maybe a couple hundred yards from here,” Sinjin informed her, rifling through the contents of the truck’s console. He pulled out a bungee cord. “This’ll have to do.”
Breanna swallowed. “What’s that for?”
“So I don’t lose you, princess.” And with a deep chuckle, he winked. “Just don’t fall into the stream, okay? Think you can manage that?”
Steeling herself to brave the brutal elements outside, she couldn’t come up with a response—not that he waited for one. Sinjin opened his door, snow rushing in, before the force of the wind pushed it closed again. Dropping the duffel bag back onto the floor, Breanna watched him feel his way around the front of the truck to the passenger side.
His gloved hand skimmed beneath her jacket. Hooking one end of the cord to the belt loop of her jeans, Sinjin tethered her body to his. He rubbed the tender bump on her forehead. “Trees will give us some cover. Cabin’s not too far. You can do this.”
Emotion stinging the tip of her nose, Breanna pressed her lips together, offering him a brief nod, and he lifted her out of the truck, setting her on her feet beside him. Her boots sank into the heavy, wet snow, already calf-deep. Biting wind whirred in her ears. It whipped through her long hair, slapping her in the face.
Sinjin pulled her scarf up over her nose, and grabbing her by the hand led her away from the truck.
And with nothing more than blind faith, she let him.
Tilting her head down to keep frozen particles from blasting her eyes, Breanna set her sights on his big, black boots, making a path through the snow ahead of her.
They slowly made their way, moving from tree to tree along the mountain stream. A dull achiness set into her bones. Her lungs burned fire with every inhalation of frigid air. Snot dripped from her nose, grossly saturating the thin, knit wool that covered it. She couldn’t be certain how far they’d already gone or how much farther they still had to go, but the trek was arduous and she was exhausted.
To make matters worse, cute UGG boots were not meant for hiking through a blizzard. Even though Breanna wore an over-the-knee pair, snow found its way inside them, packing her feet in slush. She could barely feel them anymore. Her foot struck a rock hidden beneath her, and she stumbled.
Sinjin stopped and pulled her up from the snow. Breanna leaned on him for a moment, his arms steadying her, wiping at the snot running from her nose with the heel of her gloved hand.
“C’mon.” He gave her a quick squeeze and hunched over, patting himself on the back to show he wanted her to climb onto him.
Her arms cinched around his neck, legs locked at his waist, Sinjin straightened as if she didn’t weigh a thing. “Don’t let go.”
As if she would.
“We should be almost there.”
Breanna laid her head on his broad shoulder, face buried against the crook of his neck. She could smell the masculine scent of him. His woodsy, sensual musk infused her, blocking the frozen ozone and wintry pine. Dragging it greedily into her lungs, she closed her eyes, thinking of warm, pleasant things as he carried her on his back through the storm.
Venice Beach.
A rose honey latte topped with cardamom.
Disneyland.
Cozying up to a fire with a good book.
Fuzzy socks.
Taking another whiff of him, she opened her eyes. Hot, delicious sex.
Sinjin put her down on the porch of a small wood cabin. As November raged white all around them, Breanna stood there, shivering from the loss of her body melded to his, and watched him shove his shoulder against the door.
He swooped her up in his arms, carrying her across the threshold. “Your castle in the storm, princess.”
“I do have a name, you know, and it’s not princess.”
In the dark, his whiskey eyes looked feral. His lip curled.
“It’s Breanna.”