I always do, and I hate myself for it.
It’s not his fault I find him crazily attractive. That I want him to wrap me up in his arms and never let me go. Not that he would ever see me as anything more than his younger brother’s annoying friend. That’s clear as day. Once or twice, I thought maybe, just maybe, he might be interested in me as something more than a buddy. But I was wrong. I usually am.
“Ugh!” I groan as I rest my head on the back of my car seat. “Please don’t let me die here,” I whisper to the emptiness of my car.
Out of all the ways to die, freezing to death would suck.
I should have gone straight to the bakery and delivered Owen’s muffins at lunch like I usually do. But that would have meant talking to him. Being around him and smelling the delicious air that surrounds him all while knowing nothing will ever come from how I feel for him. It kills me how good he always smells. Clean and manly. Just being around him, even for a couple of minutes, makes my head spin more than three glasses of wine.
Every other day, I’m in charge of delivering his is standing order. Where he puts them, I have no idea. The man is built like the statue of David, if David has sexy-as-sin tattoos over his chest and arms, and dark gorgeous hair and darkers eyes and a seriously masculine beard.
I shiver and make sure to keep my knees bouncing. Movement helps keep you warm. I turn my attention to the backseat for the hundredth time. Empty. Neat. For the first time in god knows how long, because I just cleaned it out and took my girl to the car wash the week before.
Car wash. I shake my head. What a waste of money and energy! Now we are in what feels a little more than a snowstorm. A blizzard.A spring blizzard.How could I have not been paying closer attention to the weather? Because of Owen and his new muffin fetish!
I called my best friend and boss, Eli, about ten minutes ago when I gave up trying to change the tire that’d gone flat. He told me to sit tight. I know he’ll be around soon. It’s just a matter of time.
I just have to be patient and pray he gets to me on time.
My eyes blink at the empty, clean backseat of my usually messy car. Just my luck. Why don’t I have at least a sweater in here? I know better! I should always have a sweater or a blanket in my car. Living in the mountains my entire life, I know this!
But I’m never prepared.Ever.
Last week, I was in short-shorts and flip-flops, sweating. Now I’m freezing.
Bright lights shine through my windows, and I turn my attention toward them. A huge white truck is parked in front of me.
“Thank goodness.” I sigh softly as my body sags with relief against my seat. I toss my phone into my purse and throw the bag over my shoulder. I’m about to turn to open my door when it swings wide. I open my mouth to say something sarcastic to Eli, but the words die on my tongue when I see the man of my dreams standing there, bent and glaring at me.
Shit. Eli sent Owen.
So much for avoiding him.
3
OWEN
Her big doe eyes are looking at me like I’ve just scared the hell out of her. I try to breathe.
She’s okay.
She’s fine.
She’s alive.
Every second of the drive, worry and fear mounted on top of one another. Crazy scenarios played out in my head of the ways she could be hurt. Or what if someone stopped to help her?
“You okay, baby?” The term of endearment slips trough my lips like it’s the most natural thing, and I am not going to take it back. I’m done holding my emotions back when it comes to her. Thinking that there was a slight possibility I’d lost her was too much for me. I’d become the man she needed me to be. Anything to have her as mine.
“I, umm, I…” she stutters, and I take account of her.
Like every time my eyes catch sight of her, my heart flips on its side.She’s so damn pretty.But as I look past my attraction, I notice she’s pale. Her body is trembling, and her teeth are chattering. Wearing jeans and a thin cotton long sleeve shirt, no gloves. She’s utterly unprepared for this weather.
Shit. That’s when I realize her putt-putt of a car is not even on. Something inside of my kicks into overdrive as I swoop into action, undoing her seatbelt and grabbing her.
“O-Owen, wha-what are you?—"
“Shut it,” I clip, cutting her off unapologetically. Her arm wraps around my neck, and I swallow hard trying to ignore how good she fucking feels in my arms. Her eyes widen further. I hate that I just yelled at her, but to say I’m on edge would be the understatement of the year.
