Vivian Arend: Rocky Mountain Desire

Hope snapped her head up. “I’m okay over here.”

“Don’t be stupid. You remember my do-what-I-tell-you lecture? That seatbelt doesn’t work. Get your ass over here, I want to get you home as quick as possible.”

Hope lowered her gaze and slid into the center of the bench seat. She settled against him and buckled up before holding her red hands toward the heater again. “Wait—take your glove back. You’ll need it on the steering wheel.”

He accepted it gratefully before putting the truck in drive and heading to Rocky.

Neither of them said a word for a minute. She was probably worried about her shop shit getting wet and frozen, half-buried in the ditch, not to mention her car door left ajar. “Sorry for yelling at you.”

“No, you were right, it’s just things. I hope…” She sighed. “No. It’s just things.”

Music filled the cab. The wind now carried loose snow, reducing visibility, and Matt had to concentrate on the highway. Only his focus got increasingly scattered as the scent of her perfume mingled with the hot air attempting to force its way past the icy fingers clinging to everything around them.

“I think we hit that cold snap they warned about.” Hope wiggled closer, and a small batch of the wetness at his hip was no longer freezing but warm.

“I’m not looking forward to checking the animals, I can tell you that.”

“You need to go out tonight?”

He shook his head before he realized she couldn’t see the motion in the dark. “Nah. Dad and Travis are on, and we had the main herd back where there’re enough shelters and trees the animals will be fine. But Blake and I are on tomorrow working the far fields. In these conditions we’ll use the snowmobiles, and the cold is gonna suck.”

She shivered. He felt it to his bones. “Not my idea of a good time.”

The memory of his ex-girlfriend using that exact phrase cut into his belly like a knife. Helen had wanted him to give it all up. Wanted him to move into the city with her and become something other than a rancher. The pain made his response come out sharper than he’d intended. “It’s part of the job, and you take the good with the bad. That’s life.”

Hope fell silent again. He drove as fast as he safely could. That’s all they needed, for him to hit the ditch as well.

By the time they’d reached the outskirts of Rocky Mountain House, it was borderline warm in the cab, which meant he was borderline freezing his balls off in his wet things. Hope had to be just as cold, but she hadn’t uttered a word of complaint.

“You still live above the quilt shop?”

No answer.

He stopped for a red light and looked down. Her eyes were closed, and she swayed slightly from side to side.

Shit. Hopefully she was just plain tired, and not going into shock. He dropped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Wake up. I need to know where to take you.”

She shook her head, looking up with glazed eyes. “What?”

“You still live above the shop?”

“Yeah.”

“Stay awake, okay?”

“Sure.” She shivered, and he held on tight as he drove one-handed through the side streets to reach the back-alley entrance behind Main Street.

He parked in what he hoped was her stall. There weren’t a lot of people moving, or lights on anywhere. Seemed most people knew enough to stay home when it was this damn cold.

He got out and pulled her after him. Hope draped her arms around his neck without him saying a word. The outside staircase up to her apartment was buried under an unmanageable amount of snow, so he carried her to her shop back door.

“Keys?”

Hope paused. “Shit.”

“In your car?”

She nodded, then her eyes lit up. “There’s a spare. I hid one.”

She looked so pleased with herself, Matt had to laugh. Freezing his ass off and laughing in a back alley with his hands going numb and his feet and butt turning into blocks of ice.

“You gonna tell me where it is?”

“Oops.”

She wiggled free and stepped on a box, reaching overhead behind a light. Then she turned and fell, exactly what he’d expected to happen, so he was ready. He caught her in midair, swung her to her feet and pulled the key from her fingers. “Either you’re way colder than you’re letting on or you’ve got a bad case of the clumsies.”

“Co…co…old.”

He opened the door and pressed her in ahead of him. Faint security lights glowed in parts of the shop, fabric bolts and whatnot on the shelves, and quilt samples displayed on the walls. It was warmer out of the wind, but it still wasn’t warm.

“You turned the heat off?”

“Down. Saving money.”

She stumbled and Matt read the signs all too clearly. Screw it. Physically she’d lost it. He guided her up the private stairs to her apartment. Every step he took, his socks squelched. Every pace he was more aware of the icicles clinging to his backside.

Hope turned on the landing. “I have a key here too. Wait.”

By the time they were through the door, Matt’s teeth were chattering like the gears on the old Ford. “Strip.”

He had already gotten off his winter coat and was working on his boots before he noticed Hope stood motionless in front of him.

“Hope, you listening?”

She lifted her hands to paw at her zipper before letting her arms fall. “I’m here. The brain is working, honest, but not the fingers. Can’t. Too cold.”

He dragged off his final boot and wondered what he’d done to deserve this kind of punishment. “Okay, I’ll help you. Just…relax.”

She nodded, eyes closed. That made it easier—not having to watch those expressive orbs as he peeled off her outer layers and got her down to her T-shirt and slacks. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and he was a bastard for noticing her nipples were rigid under the thin layers of her top. When he led her into the bathroom, she went without a complaint.

He turned on the taps for the tub and she nodded. “Oh yeah, that’s what I need. Perfect.”

That’s when the lights went out.

A million scenarios flashed through Matt’s brain where this would be a good thing. If he’d rescued some random damsel in distress from the side of the road who he’d taken back to a hotel and the power had gone off, they’d have to share body heat to survive. One thing would lead to another, and the heat they generated would be most enjoyable.

Hope. This is Hope.

“Matt? I’ve got candles.”

She bumped into him. He’d half-expected it though and managed to keep his balance. Logic and self-control were going to be the only way out of this mess with his sanity intact. “You need a hand?”

“Yeah, but just wait.” She snuck past him, clinging to his waist for a second. Something clattered to the floor then a drawer opened. She groped her way down his arm just before icy cold fingers pressed the hard surface of a lighter into his palm. A rosy glow filled the room as he followed her directions and lit the couple dozen tea lights arranged around the room.

“Convenient.”

“Pretty,” she corrected. “It’s a part of my relaxation therapy. Never thought I’d need them for this.”

Steam rose from the tub. “Thank God for gas hot-water heaters. I didn’t make it too hot though—you’re too cold. We can add hotter water once you’ve warmed up.”

Hope nodded. “Matt? You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?”

He was thinking things that were going to send him to hell. He undid the button on her jeans as quickly as possible, opening the zipper. Ignored her soft gasp as his cold knuckles bumped the heated skin of her bare belly. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay. Take off your pants and get in the tub.”

She obeyed clumsily. “You too, right?”