She squinted through the icicles on her eyelashes. Those buns were criminal. Hard and sculpted, filling out his jeans in the best way. Bitable.
“Ow! Christ, woman,” he jerked and hollered again when she giggled. She wasn’t cold anymore, just sleepy. Now all the blood was rushing to her head, making her all floaty, and her laughter turned to a soft hum of contentment.
Just as a cozy darkness blurred the edges of her vision, he dumped her unceremoniously onto her feet. Sheriff Callahan propped her against something solid and dug out his keys from his pocket, his broad back shielding her from the wind.
They had made it, at last, to the cabin.
The door burst open, and they stumbled inside. He staggered forward and slammed the door closed, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. The flick of a light switch, and then a savage, “Fuck!” when nothing happened.
“W-we m-made it,” she chattered through half-frozen lips, sinking to the floor.Nap time.
“Come on.” He hauled her up. “We’ve got to get warm.”
The world tilted violently when he swept her into his arms again. Lily gasped, clutching his shoulders. The sudden motion made her head spin, though she wasn’t sure if it was the cold, her adrenaline, or the man carrying her like she weighed nothing. His grip was firm under her back and knees, and protective as he carried her farther into the cabin.
Inside, the cabin was dim except for the beam of his flashlight. She caught impressions—the glint of a metal woodstove, the shadow of a small kitchen along one wall. The sheriff shouldered open a door, set her down on the closed toilet lid, then crouched to set the flashlight on the floor beside them.
“What are you doing?” she croaked.
Her lips were so frozen they barely moved, but he must have gotten the gist. “The power’s out,” he answered curtly. He stripped her gloves off and started chafing her hands roughly between his own. “We have to warm up before the hot-water tank gets cold.”
He moved to her feet, unwinding the frozen layers of the satin dress methodically. His face was white and pinched, yet his hands were gentle while he unwrapped one and then the other foot. She nodded numbly, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.
“Get out of this dress. Do you need help?” Snow had frozen on his eyebrows and was melting into his eyes. He wiped the water off impatiently onto the shoulder of his flannel. “Lily,” he said sharply. “Do you understand?”
Lily felt herself nodding automatically at the authority in his voice then frowned.He’s rudeandbossy. His chakras are definitely off.
Too frozen still to move, she let him shrug off his heavycoat and hat, which he tossed outside the bathroom, then he turned back to study the front of her dress with a scowl. She wanted to laugh at the look on his face, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate either.
He stood up, slid the glass door of the shower stall open, and twisted to turn the shower on full spray.
The bathroom was small, with what looked like dark paneling on the walls. The only light came from the flashlight, which cast an eerie halo of light on the ceiling. He kneeled in front of her again and grasped her shoulders, frowning as he looked over the front of her torn dress.
His features in the shadows looked menacing. A twinge of nervousness pierced her stupor. Rude, bossy, but, she hoped, not a psycho. He was the upstanding sheriff of Northfield, but you never could tell who was a killer. Wasn’t that how Ted Bundy tricked all those women?
“How does this thing come off?”
She blinked, pulling her thoughts back, and decided to trust him. He was friends with her brother-in-law, Theo, who was practically a saint in her eyes to put up with Amber. One time?—
“Lily!” he barked again, and she jumped to attention.
“What?”
“How does your dress come off?”
“B-b-buttons,” she chattered automatically. “B-b-back.” She was so damn cold, sitting on the icy porcelain toilet, she didn’t even care if the sheriff took her dress off. She was past the point of caring about anything besides getting warm again. Was that even a possibility at this point?
He stood up, pulling her into his body as he searched for the line of tiny buttons along her back. Lily let her head fall forward to rest on his stomach, grateful for the heat from his body.
Very solid. Warm. Nice.Hmm.
She rested silently, feeling the tensing and shifting of rock-hard stomach muscles as he wrestled with the dress.Excellent core strength, she thought dimly.
Finally, with a grunt, the dress tore, and the tiny buttons pinged in all directions, filling the bathroom. He guided her to her feet and, in one quick motion, stripped her of the wet, heavy dress. She felt almost weightless with the sudden change.
“What the fuck is this?” He froze, his gaze locking on the lacy white merry widow she wore underneath.
The corset-style lingerie hugged her curves, cinching her waist with delicate boning, the lace cups lifting her breasts almost indecently. Sheer panels skimmed over her ribs, leading down to tiny satin bows and garter straps that clipped to thigh-high stockings.
