“Like my heart was trying to climb out of my chest.”
“Sounds uncomfortable.”
“Very. But I think it was trying to tell me something.”
She tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Let me guess. Neve Angel is very lovely and you should pull your head out of your ass and make sweet, sweet love to her?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, if we’re baring it all. Here’s my secret. I always found you attractive. I mean I have two eyes. But I think it was safer to be a pain in your ass than, you know... ogle your ass.”
“Why?”
“In my job, I can’t fall for a player. Or a coach. Or pretty much anyone affiliated with sports. It makes things murky.”
“Are you saying you feel... murky?” This was getting dangerously close to a talk about feelings—and strangely he didn’t have a single desire to run away screaming.
“I’m like nineteenth-century-London murky. Or a dark and stormy night. Murkier than a twilight walk in a forest filled with vampires and wolves.”
“Don’t forget the moose.” He cocked his head. “Ismoosea plural... It’s notmeese, right?”
“Fine. You are a-moosing.”
“Murky and punny. We’re quite a pair.”
The wind picked up, sliding cool fingers around his neck, down his shirt and across his chest. He hugged Neve closer, her warmth comingling with his own body heat.
Let the storms do their worst. He’d found shelter, and in the most surprising place.
Chapter Fifteen
Neve smoothed her hands over her dress. It really was gorgeous. The color did her pasty skin all kinds of favors, and the pop of red lipstick brightened her eyes. She’d feel like a million bucks if not for two things: her ankle was a mottled mess of purple, indigo and grey, and all she’d brought for shoes were her sneakers and a pair of spiky heels that she’d impulsively purchased on her dress-shopping trip.
Those options were both out, and Telluride wasn’t a big town. Stores closed early. By the time she’d realized her mistake, there was nowhere to try to nab anything else. So she’d have to go to Maddy’s wedding wearing not only this amazing dress, but also her scuffed New Balances.
Hot.
No way to cut this. She’d look ridiculous. But maybe she deserved the penance because she was being so chickenhearted. She had yet to ask Tor about helping her with the profile. He’d been in such a good mood all day and avoidance was easier. They’d gotten coffee and spent the afternoon in bed, her leg iced and elevated, watching tiny cooking shows on her iPad—one of her guilty addictions.
Here he was, Tor Gunnar being the corny Rovhal30from Byways.Sure, he could still be uptight and surly, just like he could be adorkably fun loving and full of moose puns. Just like she could be all work but in his arms wanted to do nothing but play... and play dirty at that.
They were both dichotomies. And maybe that was absolutely fine.
Better than fine even.
Except there was a peskybutto all this. . .
She had a decent sixth sense about people and knew as surely as she knew her outfit was a disaster that he was going to close down on her if she got professional. The question was, how hard and for how long? Followed by the even bigger question, was it for the best?
Because this weekend wasn’t real life. Real life hovered elsewhere, around the corner, at the end of town. And it would come soon enough. Monday morning. Denver. Her job. His job. They would go back to worlds that repelled them like two opposing magnets.
There was a knock on the hotel room door. She gave herself one last fuss in the mirror and stepped out to open it.
Tor’s daughter glared at her.
“Hi.” She smiled, unsure why she was getting a death stare.
“Is my father here?”
