“I’m fine.” She swiped the rain out of her eyes and appeared to gnash her back teeth together. She was soaking wet, and looked cold, miserable, and mad at the world, including Stone. “I was trying to avoid Bambi.”
Harley shook her head as she wrapped the chains around the Sinclair truck. “First rule of the Sierras. Never swerve to avoid an animal. It’s survival of the fittest out here.” She struggled with a clamp on the chains, and TJ moved in.
When their hands touched, Harley jerked back and shot him a glare, which TJ ignored, muscling her out of the way to do her job.
With temper making her ears red, Harley jumped into her truck and the two of them worked silently together to pull Emma’s truck out of the ditch. It was like watching an old silent movie, no words necessary since the seething tension between the two of them spoke for itself.
“They go way back,” Stone said to a shivering Emma.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
Hiding his concern, he shrugged out of his denim jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Take it,” he insisted when she opened her mouth to protest, pulling the fleece lined hood up and over her head, using the excuse to touch her. He’d come to see her again, since he hated how she’d left last night, but now he was very glad he had because she needed him.
And she didn’t need easily. “You’re shivering.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. Come here,” he said, and pulled her in his arms to try to warm her up.
Emma hadn’t even noticed how cold she was until Stone had pointed it out, and then she’d realized that she was shaking rather violently. And there was a funny pain in her chest—not funny good but funny bad. “I’m fine,” she repeated as he hugged her very carefully, as if she were a fine piece of china. “I’m just annoyed that you’ve caught the stupid city girl getting stuck.” Annoyed and embarrassed.
“It’s okay to be stupid once in a while.”
“Really? Does this ever happen to you?”
‘Well, no.”
She was still shivering like crazy, and that made her mad too, just as it also made her want to burrow even closer, which didn’t help. Not one little bit. “Everything’s so easy for you.” She told herself to let go of him but she didn’t listen. “Well, here’s a memo for you, life isn’t easy.”
“No,” he agreed, sweeping a hand up her back, his smile gone. “Life sure as hell isn’t. But you make of it what you can, and you do your best to enjoy the hell out of it, because it’s the only life you get.” He turned her toward the truck, which was out of the ditch now—thanks to Harley and TJ.Not saying another word, Stone reached across her to open the door for her.
There was no reason for her to feel like a complete ass, yet she did. With as much dignity as she could manage, she thanked Harley, arranged to go by the shop later to pay her, and then hopped up into the truck, the movement giving her a bad moment. Her ribs were killing her.
Her own fault.
Just as she put the truck in gear, the passenger door opened and Stone got in, as drenched as she. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water raining down his jaw. His eyes seemed darker, the lashes inky black and spiky with rain water. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I had a choice.” He plopped his big, wet body into the seat. Having given her his jacket, his t-shirt was sculpted to his chest. His jeans were plastered to him as well, the soft, worn, drenched denim lovingly molding to his hips, his thighs, the intriguing bulge behind his button fly—
She jerked her gaze up to his eyes, and met his wry ones. “Choice?”
“Between being a referee for TJ and Harley, or…” Leaning forward, he flicked the heater on high. “Figuring out how badly you’re really hurt.”
She hugged herself and her aching ribs. She was having trouble keeping her eyes off him, which was odd since she’d seen all there was to see last night. “I’m not.”
“Do you want me to drive?”
Yes. More than she could say, but that would be admitting defeat, and she never admitted defeat.
“I swear I won’t write the feminist police,” he said dryly.
She sighed. “It’s not that. If I let you drive, I’ll never be able to face this road again.”
He looked at her, something new coming into his eyes in addition to the irritation—approval.
It was unexpected, and washed over her like a welcome balm, whether she liked it not. For the record, she didn’t. She didn’t like it at all. She swiped at the water running out of her hair and into her eyes, a movement which hurt, dammit. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he said.
That was another difference between them. She would never have left herself so wide open. What if she wanted to know how many lovers he’d had, or the last time he’d cried? “You were right about what you said before. How we only get one life, how we need to handle it right. So I guess what I want to know is…” She paused. Talk about putting herself out there, but it was too late to go back now. “Are you happy? Here? With what you do for a living?”
He let out a low sound that might have been a laugh, and scrubbed a hand over his face before he leaned back and looked at her. Water was running down his face too, in little rivulets. “I guess I thought whatever question you could possibly have for me might be a whole lot easier to answer than that one.”