Page 7

This isn't good.

Seeing a woman in my coat should not be this attractive. I'm a grown man, I should not be sitting here imagining peeling that coat off her shoulders and finding out exactly how she'd sound if I made her come in this truck.

But here I am. My cock hard as a frozen rope.

So I reach behind the seat and pull out my thermos, unscrewing the cap and pour steam into it. "Coffee? It'll help us warm up."

She takes the cup and sniffs it like I might be drugging her.

"Seriously?" I say, rolling my eyes. "It's just coffee."

"Yeah, but…" She sniffs it again, her adorable button nose twitching. "With cinnamon? Who puts cinnamon in coffee?"

"My mom. She makes a thermos every time I leave the farm. She's been doing it since I was sixteen, but I swear she puts double in at this time of year."

Audrey lowers the cup and stares at me. "I'm sorry. You're a lumberjack slash hockey player and your mother still packs your beverages?"

"She also irons my flannels."

"Of course she does." She takes a sip, and her eyes flutter closed for half a second in a way I feel directly in my jeans. "Okay, I take it back. That's annoyingly good. Your mother is a genius and you don't deserve her."

"Ah, good. Just when I thought I had escaped my annoying brothers for one Christmas, you start to sound just like them."

Audrey smiles into the cup, and I watch her cheeks round out over the rim.

It feels weird just talking like this with her. Less than an hour ago, I found her on the side of the road in a wedding dress. Now she's making jokes and laughing along with me?

Shouldn't she be sobbing miserably? Either that or she should be on her way to a honeymoon?

I force my gaze out the windshield, toward the lights of Chilmore glittering in the valley below. From up here, the town looks peaceful and warm, like it's preparing it's cobblestone streets for the upcoming festive season.

The farm is somewhere behind me, usually dark and quiet at this hour. My parents are probably asleep and the trees would be covered in fresh snow that my brothers will whinge about tomorrow.

And here I am.

Playing hockey. Again.

"So how many brothers have you got?" Audrey eventually asks, wrapping her lips around the mug.

"Two. Hunter and Will. They run the farm with my parents while I bounce around getting paid to hit people."

"And they let you leave with the good coffee? They must love—"

Right on cue, the Bluetooth in my truck cuts her off as HUNTER STRATTON flashes across the dash screen. My thumb hits accept on the call out of pure habit.

"Miles!" Hunter's voice booms through every speaker in the truck. "Tell me you delivered the tree, because I've got news that's gonna ruin your whole night."

"Hunter, now isn't—"

"Brennan's cancelled the entire wholesale order. Two hundred trees, gone. And that buyer called again asking about the vacant land, sniffing around Dad like a coyote in a suit, so whatever Big Mike is paying you, tell him to pay faster because—"

"HUNTER."

"—we are officially one bad month from selling Christmas to a golf course developer. Oh, and also, Mom wants to know if you packed the gingerbread she left for you."

Audrey stares straight ahead through the windshield with the intense concentration of a woman pretending she's not hearing my entire financial autopsy in surround sound.

I should be ashamed.