She stared at the sandwich after he handed one over.
“What is this?” The cellophane baggie crackled between her fingers.
“Nothing fancy. Just plain turkey and cheese.” He hesitated. “You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?”
“No... I just...” She blinked. “You made me a sandwich?”
“Is that bad?” Why was she looking at him as if he’d just sprouted horns? All he’d done was take some sourdough bread, slap down turkey and Kraft, smear a little mayo.
She glanced to the sandwich and then back up at him. “It’s... unexpectedly cute. Tor Gunnar made me a turkey sandwich.”
“Cute?” He didn’t know what t she was so impressed by, but not going to lie, he liked the fact he’d scored a win. “Got to say, I’m not used to hearing those words directed at me, especially from you.”
“Trust me, I’m not used to thinking them.” She fiddled with her seat belt, studying the panoramic mountain scenery, and sighed. “This place really is out-of-control beautiful. I need to get out more.”
Tor was undeterred by her attempt to deflect and change the subject. “I thought you weren’t talking to me because you had second thoughts.”
“Look.” She glanced over with an uncertain expression. “Let’s promise each other one thing, okay? In addition to a truce.”
“I’m all ears,” he said gruffly.
“There is enough crap in the world without us shoveling more on the pile, don’t you think?” The wind blowing in through the cracked-open windows was cold. There was already a few inches of snow dusting the ground even though it had been a drier autumn.
Her coloring improved and she managed a few bites of the sandwich. “You going to answer?” she asked, covering a hand over her mouth, half-filled with food. “Or sit and stare?”
It was damn hard to give words to his truth, to let down his guard and speak from the heart. That he liked this feeling he got watching her eat his simple food. It was nice to feel like he was taking care of her in some small way. “You’re right. I’m just glad that you feel better. No crap.”
“Good. And can we discuss the magical Tor-turkey-sandwich carsick cure?” Her face softened into a rueful smile. “You could infomercial this. It’s amazing how much better I feel. No offense, but I wouldn’t have thought this would work in a million years.”
“Sometimes magic happens in unlikely places.” And from the startled glance she cast him, he knew they were talking about more than unusual home remedies.
The Adeline was a redbrick boutique hotel nestled in the heart of Telluride’s picturesquely historic downtown. Neve took a moment to soak in the updated but undeniably Old West vibe—John Wayne meets modern-day luxury. It was a hundred-year-old brothel given a fashionable new life.
“Let’s get our rooms. Let you rest for a bit,” Tor said as they walked into the lobby, a cozy and inviting space with pressed-tin ceilings and stuffed leather sofas.
Since Monarch Pass he’d been gravely solicitous, ensuring the windows were cracked and making frequent stops at various scenic pullouts. He might have a hard outer shell, but she couldn’t help but wonder what softness hid behind that tough exterior. Just because he wasn’t loquacious didn’t mean he didn’t communicate. As the hours passed she’d found herself becoming more attuned to the little things, the nuanced expressions on his face when he glanced her way or when a certain song came on. His little quirks and gestures that showed he enjoyed her presence.
Or at least didn’t actively dislike it.
It was strange, and disorienting, drawing closer to this standoffish man, breathing in the same air, inhaling the faint cedar and pine undernotes from his aftershave, wondering if maybe she didn’t know him at all.
He’d Mr. Darcy dissed her in the stadium parking lot, but maybe she was Elizabeth Bennet-ing him with all of her prejudice. There was so much toxic masculinity in the world that sometimes it was hard to remember that good guys existed.
“Daddy! Daddy! You’re here!” A cry cut through the lobby chatter as a wiry girl with braces sprinted across the room and leapt into his arms. She was in that ephemeral stage between child and teen, but one glance at her ice-blue eyes and blond hair made it obvious whose child she was.
Tor’s face transformed into an expression Neve had never seen. Complete happiness.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, spun his daughter around twice and then planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “You beat us. I didn’t think you were arriving until dinner.”
She giggled, adjusting her braid. “I rode up in Aunt Amber’s minivan. She said that I can sleep with Lane and Page. Can I, please? They have connecting rooms with a door to Aunt Amber.”
“Your cousins?” He frowned with mock severity. “You sure you won’t just be awake talking all night? Remember the last time they came over to my house?”
She was the picture of innocence. “What? It was fine.”
“There was that incident with the marshmallows. And the microwave. And the—”
“Pleeeeeeease, pleeeeeeeeasee. We’ll be good this time.” Olive broke off from her begging to take stock of Neve standing beside him.
