Harlow snorted and shook his head before taking another bite of his salad.
Foxx really wanted to demand that Harlow keep driving, even as the Jeep pulled to a complete stop on the compacted snow-covered backroad.
“It’s not plowed.” Foxx glared at, based on the location of the mailbox, what should have been the entrance to a long ass driveway…but it all looked like one solid, smooth snow ‘wonderland’.
“Yeah, it doesn’t appear that anyone has driven on it since the last big snow storm the area had a few days ago.”
“Drive over it…”
“I’m not getting stuck in the snow because you don’t want to walk. Get out.”
“Nooooo,” Foxx cried. “The snow is like a foot deep. How do you expect me to walk in that?!”
“More like two.”
“I’m five-foot-four!”
“Foxx, the sooner we get to the house, the sooner we can go to the nice, warm hotel.”
Foxx let out a whine of defeat. “This is absolute bullshit.”
Grumbling, he threw his seatbelt off, kicked off his boots and stripped out of his sunsuit, pulling his phone out before tossing it in the back seat. Slipping his shoes back on, Foxx picked up the small duffle bag off the floor in front of him. Pulling out his baby blue peacoat, he slipped his phone into the inside pocket. Putting it on, he zipped it and fastened all the buttons. Next, he pulled on a matching baby blue hat with a giant pom-pom on top, along with his gloves. And he intended to wrap on the scarf that went with the set, but found it nowhere in his bag. Well…fuck a duck… Foxx whimpered—he’d forgotten his scarf…
He glared at the absence of it for a moment, before sighing and shoving open the door, only to get blasted in the face with freezing cold wind.
His gaze snapped to Harlow, who’d been waiting impatiently. “Let me put my sunsuit back on.”
“No!” the human grunted without looking at him as he got out.
Sighing, Foxx jumped out and almost landed on his ass as his right foot went out from under him. At the last minute, he grabbed onto the side mirror and steadied himself.
“Winter,” he hissed, his breath creating a cloud. Once he had his balance, he wobbled his way to the back of the Jeep, where Harlow was adding a few weapons to whatever else he had strapped to his body.
The hunter rose a brow at him. “Having issues?”
“Shut up,” Foxx snapped as he reached for his large, colorful duffle bag. He looked through it and snagged his chest holster. Putting it on, he then pulled out his brand-new glittery rainbow Desert Eagle pistols. They were beautiful and sparkly, and just loud.
Foxx smiled smugly up at the human as he holstered them.
Harlow stood there looking dumbfounded. “I really…just want to smack you.”
“I. Dare. You,” he hissed.
The human growled before spinning on his heel and marching off. “Let’s go!” he barked out.
Foxx’s smugness flew away as another harsh wind blew past him. Wrapping his arms around himself, he followed Harlow. He grimaced as he tried to step into the path Harlow was making in the snow.
With each burst of wind, his face grew colder and colder. Frankly, it felt like his face was about to fall off. “I can’t feel my nose.”
“You’re fine,” Harlow grunted.
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“They are still there.”
“My fingertips feel like icicles.”
“I doubt you have ever touched an icicle.”
