With a smug twist of his lips, Keith turns for the door.
I get back to work, but my concentration keeps slipping.
Just before noon, I pull on my coat and grab my lunch box and water bottle, then pass the reception area where Betsy flashes me a tight smile before she returns her attention to her computer. All I did was ask her politely not to spray her perfume in the bathroom, and now she acts like I might bite her. Just add it to the growing list of my transgressions. More reasons why I’ll never fit in. Here or anywhere.
As I step out into the breezy parking area, CJ is cruising toward me in his silver IDFW work truck. It looks like Dad’s but older, probably because he’s the new guy.I know the feeling.
Should I be this relieved to see him? Nervous energy wheels inside me as I head for the passenger door, but he jumps down and crosses the front.
“Not so fast,” he says with a half-grin that stops my heart. The bright sunlight catches the copper highlights in his curls and turns his gray eyes the color of wet slate.
“CJ,” I whisper as he opens my door for me and offers his hand.
I could protest that I’m perfectly capable of opening my own door, and that this isn’t a date, or that people might be watching us. Though my office is the only one not facing the mountains.
Instead, I takehis hand and climb in. The contact from his touch brings on a welcome flicker of warmth inside me, but the moment he steps back and shuts the door, it reminds me of how quickly that comfort can be taken away.
His cab has a refitted flat center console that flips up, tan fabric seats, and a narrow bench in the extra cab space. I’m sure there’s a gun safe back there too, like Dad’s. Everything is neat inside, with two insulated mugs in the cup holders and only a stick of mineral sunscreen in the junk bowl.
Back behind the wheel, CJ buckles in and drives to the exit. “I wasn’t sure if you like hot chocolate or caramel hot cider, so I got one of each.”
I glance at the two mugs that are not in disposable cups. “You brought these…for me?”
“Nothing like a hot drink on a cold day.”
I blink at the windshield, trying to stuff down my emotions. “That’s really thoughtful.”
Maybe it’s the edge in my tone, or that my fingers are stiff when I reach for the first mug, but he stops checking for cross traffic and focuses on me instead, his gaze flickering with unease. “Oh shit, you don’t like either one of those things, do you?”
“What?” I laugh. “No. I, uh, I just…”Quit stammering!“Thank you. I love hot cocoa.”
He smiles. “I had them put in extra marshmallows, because that’s kind of the best part.”
Our eyes lock and I can’t help leaning closer. His lashes lower in that sultry way that makes the butterflies in my stomach spin and dive. It’s his broad chest and full lips and those gorgeous eyes. It’s the way his uniform molds to his lean, strong frame. But it’s not just how good helooks, it’s the respect that uniform garners. It’s these acts of kindness. His filthy mouth. His fresh cotton scent.
How can I say no to this man?
Before I can stop myself, his lips meet mine in a barely-there kiss,the soft bristles of his mustache tickling my skin and reminding me of Saturday night. How that added bit of friction heightened the pleasure and held my awareness with that extra edge that kept me grounded.
When I pull back, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, the brush of his fingertips on my skin sending a tremor down my spine, and his smile turns mischievous.
“Ready for your surprise?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
While Linnea sipsher hot cocoa, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, I drive through the tiny hamlet of Gibbs. Then I turn up the forest road I used yesterday, praying that we’ll be able to see what I want to show her.
The road winds up the side of Kettle Mountain, through forest until we reach a gravel pullout and one of my favorite views of the Bitterroots. I turn off the truck and hand her the binoculars. She sets down her cocoa and shoots me an adorable look of curiosity. It’s such a sweet contrast to the tense scowl she wore when I picked her up that the nervous edge I’ve been feeling since our phone call Sunday softens a little.
“What am I looking for?” she asks.
I cock an eyebrow. “And ruin the surprise?”
“I thought the hot cocoa was the surprise.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. She’s so fucking cute right now, with a little bit of melted marshmallow clinging to her upper lip and her pretty blue eyes bright. “Have a look.”
She peers through the lenses. While she adjusts the focusing knob and sweeps the valley below us, I start unpacking our lunch. Acutting board, some fancy cheddar and a wedge of Gouda, an apple, crackers, a sleeve of venison sausage, brownies, and my buck knife.