Something icy and wet hit his nose.
Lindsey jerked back and looked up.
The dark night swirled with fat white tufts of snow.
She laughed and opened her mouth to catch the flakes on her tongue, holding out her hands with a look of wonder. “It’s snowing!”
He grinned, taken in by her childlike response. “You’ve never seen it before?”
“Only on the ground up at Big Bear or on the mountains from town. Never falling from the sky.” She stared up at the storm. “It’s mesmerizing.”
Shewas mesmerizing.
“Here.” He handed over the gloves she’d abandoned to eat dinner, pulled her back against him, and reclined against his pack.
She sighed into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped the blanket over them, shielding all but their faces against the soft, icy torrent.
If only he could protect her from every storm.
They gazed into the swirling heavens until she turned to him, shivering. “Thank you,” she breathed against his neck.
“For what?” he asked softly, afraid to break the spell.
“Giving me this moment.”
He chuckled. “I can do a lot of things, but I can’t make it snow on command.”
She smiled and gave him a whisper of a kiss. “I’m freezing. Come to bed and warm me up?”
Lindsey didn’t know where the bold request had come from, but she wasn’t going to take it back, not for anything. Not when Todd’s eyes blazed like blue fire at the suggestion. Not when she could still feel the tingle of their kiss on her lips and ached to feel his mouth on her everywhere.
Snow spiraled around them as they rose, the thick flakes slowly turning the ground white. As fascinated as she was by her first snowfall, she was cold. And craving more of Todd. Their time together could be limited and she didn’t want to waste a minute. Didn’t she deserve one good thing out of this ordeal? A positive memory to stamp out the horror?
Tomorrow they might find Megan, get her to safety, and go their separate ways.
Or, they might be killed.
Lindsey’s chest constricted. Part of her wished she’d never met Todd so he wouldn’t be here, in danger. Part of her wanted to show him how much he’d come to matter in such a short time.
After cleaning up from dinner, they brushed their teeth. Todd demonstrated how to mix a little water in her mouth then spray the toothpaste waste over the grass to avoid leaving a large pile of sweet bubbles that might attract, or even harm, animals. She laughed, feeling silly, and he grinned, wiping stray paste from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
Her stomach bottomed out.
He hesitated, his gaze on her lips, and she couldn’t catch a breath.
“One more thing,” he said, his voice hoarse as he stepped away.
He placed their food, toothpaste tube, and sealed-up trash in what looked like an oversized opaque jar and set it about five yards from the tent.
“You don’t hang it over a tree limb?” She’d seen the paw prints the length of her shoe, but had managed to avoid any bear sightings so far.
“With a bear canister, you don’t need to.” He returned to her side and unzipped the tent, ushering her in. “It’s safer for people and bears. A little harder to carry, but easier to deal with in general. Plus, a lot of parks require them now.”
“Oh.” She climbed in and lay down, anticipation making her stomach flip-flop.
He removed the holster from his waistband and curled up with her under the sleeping bag. His breath was hot on her neck, the furnace of his body easing her shivers. His arm lay carefully over her own, warm and alive, and maddeningly still.
Had he misunderstood her thinly veiled suggestion? She hadfeltbold, but maybe he’d taken her request for him to warm her up literally. He was always so careful not to overstep, not to presume she wanted anything from him until she asked. It was part of the reason she trusted him. But it also required her to be more direct about her desires.
