This was so not how I wanted the night to end.
FIVE
HUNTER
Her perfume clings to me, making it hard to breathe deeply. Not because it isn’t nice—it suits her well because it smells just as luxurious as she is—but because the more I breathe it in, the more I want it.
Every time she shifts in the passenger seat, I can’t help but lock in on her. The Mrs. Claus dress rides up around her thighs, so much so I can see the edge of her pantyhose. She still wears my jacket, hugging it to her body. I know once I drop her off and get it back, it’ll be stained with her scent. And I’m not sure whether I should like it as much as I do.
Maybe I should have taken the out. Requested the date get refunded or passed on. But as soon as I consider it, I tense. As much as my daughter is in deep trouble for going behind my back and doing that, there’s a part of me that is also a little grateful for her intervention.
Even if it means it can’t go anywhere.
“Oh no,” she whispers, sitting up.
I follow her line of sight and take in theROAD CLOSEDsign that leads to the rental she’s been staying at the last couple of weeks. There are a couple of flashing lights, but no other cars.
Slowly, I pull in beside it and idle, searching the darkness for any reason why they might have blocked access to her street. “Did you know anything about this?” I ask quietly.
Sylvie shoots me a look as she pulls her hair out of the bun it’d been in during cleanup. “Of course not. What, you think I orchestrated this as some ploy to get close to you?” She rolls her eyes. “Let me out. I think I can walk it.”
I growl and slam the locks on all the doors. “Absolutely not.” I don’t even comment on how over the top she is. “You aren’t walking home inthat.”
I pull away from her street, ignoring her indignant grunt as I do.
“Hunter, turn around and drop me off,” she demands, arms crossed.
“No,” I reply, pulling off onto the long road leading to my cabin.
Sylvie makes a sound in the back of her throat. “Why are you taking me to your cabin?”
“Because you clearly can’t go back to your place, and I would have been alerted if my cabin was blocked.” I don’t look at her as I carefully take the curve in the road and pull onto my access road. I’m one of the few guys who live closer to the main road, mostly because my cabin sits along an access path into the mountain and near the rescue centre.
Huffing, Sylvie slides down in her seat. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“And where else would you go?” I ask honestly. “Unless you want me to take you back to town hall so you can bunk with Marvin?”
Sylvie snorts, though she doesn’t look at me, not as we pull into my cabin.
My property is less rustic and more house, mostly for Opal’s sake. The two-storey building has a wraparound porch, threedormers looking over the front and back of the land, and more windows than are probably necessary. We’re lucky enough to have a creek running right past the house, though it’s frozen over now.
Pulling to a stop, I leave the engine running and say, “Either you stay here while I get you a pair of boots, or I carry you in.”
Sylvie cuts me a glare. “Bossy much? You know I’m not Opal, right? I can make sound choices.”
Leaning towards her, I breathe in that intoxicating perfume. “Oh, I definitely know you aren’t my daughter. Because she knows how to listen.”
“Really?” Sylvie cocks her head, shifting to face me. “Because last I checked, she got a hold of your bidding paddle and made you bid onme. Unless…youtoldher to do that, Hunter?”
I bite down on my irritation. “Of course, I didn’t.”
“Hmph.” She looks a little too pleased with that admission, a smirk curving her red lips. Somehow throughout the night her makeup had remained perfect. No smudging, no running mascara or faded lipstick.
Without another word, Sylvie pushes open the passenger side door. A shiver rushes through her, visible and dramatic, but she doesn’t let it stop her from putting on her heels.
For fuck's sake.
Growling, I jump out before she can put the second stiletto on and enter the snow. The sky has a strange, almost silver tint to it, like a warning it’s about to get worse. I haven’t shovelled my driveway in nearly forty-eight hours, and the thick layer of snow proves that. I’m nearly calf-deep in the icy cold substance. Her heels wouldn’t survive.
