Like she was sweet. He knew damn well she was smart as hell, she was resourceful, a survivor . . . She was a lot of things, but sweet wasn’t one of them.
Then she crouched down and hugged Carl. “Good boy. You were just checking for snakes, weren’t you? Such a good, pretty, wonderful boy.”
Carl panted happily and set his big head on her shoulder, the ungrateful bastard. They were both covered in snow. Hell, they all were.
While Rory made her way behind a tree, Max dried Carl off and got him into the truck. When Rory came out of the woods, Max really wanted not to care that she was wearing more snow than clothes and shivering, but he couldn’t do it. He watched while with shaking hands she carefully shook off before climbing into the truck. Then she stripped out of her jacket that clearly wasn’t waterproof.
This left her in a soft off--white sweater that was damp and clinging to her like a second skin. She wore a white lace bra, also damp, and not doing much to hide the fact that she truly was cold. And he was absolutely concentrating on that and how she looked like she needed a hot cheeseburger, and not her nipples, two hard little beads threatening to poke through both the lace and the material of her sweater.
Had he thought of her as the sweet, girl--next--door type? Maybe if the girl next door was pinup material, because damn. Sitting there with her long waves clinging to her face and shoulders and chest, giving him peekaboo glimpses of her perfect breasts, he couldn’t remember why he didn’t like her and didn’t want to like her.
“What?” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’ve never seen cold nipples before?”
Yes, but not ones that made his mouth water to taste. Kiss. Nibble. Suck into his mouth . . . “Did you see any bears?”
Rolling her eyes, she pulled a hair tie from around her wrist and used it to contain the wet mass of waves on top of her head.
He handed her a towel, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, if fine is drenched and cold,” he said. “Take it. It’s not the same one I used on Carl.”
“I wouldn’t care about that,” she said. “But you might have to stop and put on chains soon and you’ll need a towel for yourself.”
“We’re not going to need chains,” he said. “I’m in four--wheel drive and we’ve got good tires. Now use the damn towel, you’re dripping all over the place.”
As he knew it would, this galvanized her into action and she ran the towel over herself in jerky motions. When she was done, she was still shivering, and after a hesitation, she pulled off her damp sweater.
This left her in a white camisole and aforementioned white lace bra, neither of which were all that significant.
“You going to stare at me all night or get us back on the road?” she asked coolly.
Gentle . . . With that word echoing in his head, he aimed the heater vents her way and pulled them back onto the highway.
Things had gone downhill in the few minutes they’d been stopped. The snow was really accumulating now, making the highway slick, forcing him to slow down. Way down.
“At this rate, it’s gonna take all night to get there,” she said, sounding worried.
Most likely she didn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary. But it wasn’t like this was how he’d seen himself spending Christmas Eve either.
In the very loud silence of the truck, his belly grumbled, reminding him he’d missed dinner. And lunch. He’d had breakfast but it felt like it’d been days since then.
He heard Rory rustling around and ignored her until a sandwich appeared beneath his nose. “No, thanks,” he said.
“Take it.”
“I’m good.”
“Yeah, well, your stomach says otherwise,” she said.
“I’m not eating your food,” he said, refusing to take the dinner she’d so clearly packed for herself.
She let out a sound of female frustration. “Tell me something. Are you always this stubborn or is it something special you save just for me?”
“I meant I’m not eating your dinner,” he clarified.
“I learned how to share in kindergarten. You should try it sometime.”
He blew out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take half if you eat the other half.”
She looked surprised and then shrugged. “Deal.”
Starving to the bone, he wolfed through his portion of her admittedly delicious PB&J and then watched as she ate only half of her half, and then gave the last quarter to Carl.
His heart squeezed as Carl chomped his portion down in one bite, licked his huge chops, and gave her an adoring gaze.
Rory laughed and then pulled something else from her bag of magic tricks—-a thermos.
“Hot chocolate,” she said, pouring Max half of what she had. “Careful, it’s still hot.”
“Thanks.” He’d known he’d be making this drive tonight and he hadn’t given provisions a single thought. After all, he had an emergency kit in the back and he was good.