Page 9

Nico

T he first snowflakes spiral down just as I finish inspecting the van's undercarriage. Rust spots on the frame. Leaky transmission. Shoddy brake lines. No way in hell I'm letting Holly buy this death trap, no matter how perfect the interior setup might be.

"Well?" Holly leans against the van's side, arms crossed. She changed out of the elf costume before we left, but somehow her cheeks are still flushed pink, her eyes bright with hope. "What's the verdict?"

The seller, Ray, hovers nearby, pretending to take a phone call. He quoted Holly triple what this heap is worth. My jaw clenches as I watch him pace, phone pressed to his ear, performing for an audience that doesn't exist.

"Let me handle this." I wipe my hands on a shop rag, keeping my voice low. Professional and not like I'm fantasizing about throwing her over my shoulder and getting her off this mountain before the weather turns. "Guy's trying to rip you off."

Her chin lifts with that determined look I'm learning to love and fear. "I can negotiate."

She squeezes my arm, then saunters toward Ray with a bright smile, and twenty minutes later we're heading down the mountain in my truck with Holly practically vibrating with satisfaction.

"Did you see his face when I pointed out the transmission fluid leak?" She bounces in her seat, reminding me of Bear when he's excited. "He couldn't backpedal fast enough."

"You threatened to report him to the Better Business Bureau."

"And the Department of Transportation." Her grin turns wicked. "I learned from the best. All those hours watching you negotiate with suppliers..."

Pride wars with possessiveness in my chest. She's brilliant, my Holly. Fierce. But the snow is falling faster now, coating the windshield despite the wipers' steady rhythm. Fat flakes swirl in the headlights, hypnotic and disorienting.

The engine coughs. Sputters. Dies.

"No. No, no, no." I wrestle the steering wheel as we coast to the shoulder. The truck shudders to a stop, steam rising from under the hood in the beam of the headlights.

Holly peers through the thickening snow. "What happened?"

"Stay here." I grab my jacket from behind the seat. "I need to check something."

The wind hits like a physical blow as I pop the hood. Steam billows up, carrying the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber and hot metal. The serpentine belt hangs in shredded strips, probably wearing thin for weeks without me noticing. Damn it.

Footsteps crunch in the snow behind me. Of course, she didn't stay in the truck.

"That doesn't look good." Holly huddles deeper into her coat, snowflakes catching in her hair like a crown of stars.

"Belt's shot." I slam the hood harder than necessary. "We're not going anywhere without a tow."

She pulls out her phone. "I'll call—" The words die as she stares at the screen. "No signal."

Perfect.

I check my phone. Nothing. The storm must be interfering with reception, and we're too far up the mountain for a reliable signal anyway.

Holly shivers, and every protective instinct roars to life. "Back in the truck. Now."

"So bossy." But she complies, letting me open her door. "What's the plan?"

I slide behind the wheel, mentally calculating distances. The truck's dead. No cell service. Snow is falling harder by the minute. And my cabin is...

"My place is about two miles up that access road." I point through the curtain of white. "We can wait out the storm there."

"Your cabin?" Her voice sounds strange. Breathy.

"Unless you'd rather freeze?" The thought of her in danger, even from something as simple as cold, sets my teeth on edge.

"Race you there." She reaches for her door handle.

"Holly." I catch her wrist. "We stick together. This storm's getting worse, and the trail's easy to lose in weather like this."

She studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. Together."

Something primal stirs at her easy trust. At the way she says 'together' like it's more than just hiking through snow.

I grab the emergency kit from behind the seat, then help her out of the truck. The wind whips between the trees, carrying ice crystals that sting any exposed skin. Holly's smaller frame sways against the gust, and I automatically step between her and the wind.

"Stay close." I take her gloved hand in mine, tucking our joined fingers into my coat pocket. "Path's steep in places."

Her answering squeeze makes my heart stutter. "My hero."

I pull her closer as we begin the trek uphill. "Should have checked the weather more carefully before bringing you up here."

"Pretty sure you checked three different forecasts this morning." She bumps my shoulder. "And the highway patrol reports. And probably sacrificed a goat to the weather gods."

"Smartass."

"You love it."

I do. God help me, I love everything about her. The way she teases. The way she fights. The way she sees right through every wall I've built.

The snow falls thicker now, muffling all sound except our breathing and the crunch of boots through fresh powder.

Holly matches my stride, but I can feel her trembling. The path winds through dense evergreens, their branches heavy with snow. In summer, this is an easy walk.

Tonight, with visibility dropping by the minute, every step needs careful consideration.

"Almost to the bridge," I tell her, tightening my grip on her hand. "Watch your step here."

The wooden footbridge over Miller's Creek is barely visible through the swirling snow. Water rushes beneath, swollen from the early winter melt.

"Um, Nico?" Holly's voice wavers. "That doesn't look very stable."

I test the first plank. It holds, but ice makes the surface treacherous. "I'll go first. Hold the guide rope."

One step. Two. The old wood creaks under my weight.

Holly follows, gripping the rope with both hands. "See? Nothing to worry?—"

The words end in a shriek as her foot slides on the ice. She pitches sideways, and my heart stops. I lunge for her, but she's already falling, missing the creek but landing hard in the snow-covered bank. The impact sends her sliding straight into the frigid water.

"Holly!"

I'm in the water before her name leaves my mouth, hauling her up against my chest. She sputters and coughs, clinging to my jacket as I lift her onto the bank. The creek water runs in icy rivulets down her coat.

"I'm okay," she gasps, teeth already chattering. "Just wet. And cold. Really cold."

Training kicks in. Assess. Act. Keep her safe.

I strip off my coat, wrapping it around her shoulders even as I drag the emergency kit closer. "We need to get you warm. Now."

"I can walk?—"

"Emergency blanket first." I yank the foil blanket from the kit, the material crinkling as I wrap it around her over my coat. "Your clothes are soaked through. The blanket will trap body heat."

Her lips are turning blue, but she still manages a shaky smile. "You're very good at this whole rescue thing."

"Years of winter safety training." I check her hands - cold but still pink. Good. "Can you feel your fingers and toes?"

She nods, then frowns. "You'll freeze without your coat."

"I run hot." When she starts to stand, I stop her. "Don't. Cold shock affects muscle coordination. Let me carry you."

I scoop her up, adjusting the foil blanket to cover her completely. She’s a shivering bundle of silver foil and wet wool in my arms. Her nose presses cold against my throat as she burrows closer.

She burrows closer, pressing her cold nose against my throat. "You're warm."

My heart clenches. She feels so small in my arms, so precious.

"The cabin's close. Ten minutes tops." I pick my way carefully through the snow, hyperaware of my precious cargo.

She nods against my chest. "Is that smoke?"

"Timer on the woodstove." At her questioning look, I shrug, careful not to jostle her. "I like coming home to a warm house."

"So practical." She shivers again, but this time I don't think it's from cold. "And sexy."

"Keep talking to me."

"About what?"

"Anything. Tell me more about your flower shop plans."

She starts describing her ideas for seasonal arrangements, her voice growing steadier as we walk. Good. Keeping her talking means keeping her conscious.

The cabin emerges from the white haze like a Christmas card come to life. Smoke curls from the chimney, and warm light spills from the windows I forgot to turn off this morning.

"It's perfect." Her voice is soft with wonder despite her shivers. "Like something from a fairy tale."

I shoulder open the door, kicking it shut against the wind. "You need a hot shower before hypothermia sets in."

"I'm f-fine." But her violent shivering betrays her. "Just need to dry off?—"

"Holly." I set her on her feet in the bathroom, keeping one arm around her waist when she sways. "You're showing signs of mild hypothermia. You're getting in that shower if I have to put you there myself."

Her eyes spark with mischief despite her chattering teeth. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Christ. Even half-frozen she manages to test my control.

"Behave." I turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. Can't shock her system with too much heat too fast. "I'll get you some dry clothes."

I find my smallest flannel shirt and a pair of sweats with a drawstring waist. When I return to the bathroom, Holly's struggling with her coat zipper, fingers too numb to grip.

"Let me." I carefully peel off the wet layers - coat, scarf, sweater. Each piece hits the floor with a wet slap. The shirt beneath clings to her curves, nearly transparent. I force my eyes away. Focus on the practical. Getting her warm. Safe.

I swallow against a throat gone dry. My body thrums with hers. It's too much. Too fast. But I can't deny this anymore. It's so right.

"Nico?" She lifts her hands, icy fingers brushing my jaw. "Please."

Her touch sets off a rush of possession. I tear at my clothes, not bothering to fold or hang, instincts screaming to get to her.

She's still shivering when I sweep her into my arms, carry her into the shower, and kick the door shut behind us with my foot. Water pummels our bodies, steam rising around us as I press her against the tile wall, fitting my body to hers.

Our mouths crash together, a tangle of tongues, teeth, and pent-up need. Her hands slide into my hair, tugging gently, and I'm lost.

She tastes like peppermint and want and pure, unfiltered desire. My hands roam, mapping the soft curve of her hips, the supple swell of her breasts. I haven't touched a woman in years, but my body knows what to do. How to please. How to take. How to give.

I kiss a path down her jaw to the pulse, beating frantically at the base of her throat. Her fingers tighten in my hair, guiding me. The steam rises around us, carrying away the chill from the mountainside as I explore every inch of her with my lips and tongue.

Her fingers scrape down my back, and I shudder, my mouth slanting harder over hers. I skim her thighs, her hips, her ass, lifting and pressing and needing to feel all of her.

I want to give her pleasure. Every kind of pleasure.

Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling me closer. "Don't stop."

I kiss my way down her neck, over her collarbone, pausing to worship the rapid beat of her pulse again.

"Nico," she gasps, and her eyes flutter open, dazed and dark with passion. "I need?—"

"Anything." I tear my mouth from hers, trailing kisses down her throat, licking and biting and sucking. Marking her as mine. "Tell me what you need, and it's yours."

Her hands fist in my hair, pulling me back to her mouth with a ferocity that matches mine. I growl my answer as the water sluices over us, hot and steamy and endless.