Page 16 of Rockstar Baby

“Yes, well, I’m a dumb guy from California, remember?”

“Oh, I do.” I tugged my puffy vest off the hanger. “But you have a car, right?”

“Actually, I walked.”

“Oh. Well, I have mine.” I tugged on my gloves. “Let’s get moving, LC.”

“That’s not going to stick, is it?”

“Maybe.” I patted his cheek with my thermal gloved hand, then sauntered out the door. “Whoa.”

Rory came up behind me and whistled. “So, maybe a bit more than eight minutes, yeah?”

I peered up at him, then at the near foot of snow on top of my car. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

“Your feet.” He hurried after me as I stepped off the sidewalk.

“What about them?”

“Get in the car. It’s too cold.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s freezing and snowing. You are not dressed for this.”

“Baby, my blood is thick and hardy. You’re the one who is probably dying a little inside.” I’d already waded through a foot of snow from the bar to the diner tonight. My toes were just fine. Mitch was right though. No plow would be coming through for another hour or two. Easier to wait until just before work hours.

Rory grunted and brushed off snow halfheartedly with his sleeve.

“If we get stuck, we’ll just call my brother. He’s a few doors down. When it snows he crashes in his shop.”

“I don’t think your brother is going to like bailing me out to help his sister get lucky.”

I laughed. “Getting lucky with Lucky Charms.”

“Would you stop with that?”

I sliced my arm across the window of the driver’s side door as snow dropped to the ground. I opened the door and grabbed my snow brush from the floor. I slammed the door shut and another pound of snow coated my feet. With economic movements, I made short work of clearing off my car. I peered over the roof at him. “Are you magically delicious, Rory?”

He came around the car, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The dummy didn’t have gloves like I did. “The better question, my sweet fairy queen, is: are you?”

I straightened and slapped my gloves together to brush off the worst of the snow. “Wow, upgrade. Fairy queen?”

“Only the reddest of redheads are allowed the queen title.” He flicked the end of my braid. “Or is this enhanced?” His gaze dropped to my mouth then lifted to meet my gaze.

I hooked my gloved finger into his belt loop. He hissed as my snow covered fingers hit the skin between his belt and sweater. “Are you asking if the drapes match the curtains, fine sir?”

“I don’t care either way.”

I peered up at him, thick snowflakes tangling in my eyelashes. I tried to blink them away, but the snow was coming down too hard. Just as I was about to step back to continue clearing off the car, he curled his arm around my back and dragged me against his chest.

There was no asking, no teasing.

He swooped down and covered my mouth with his. I could only grip his arms as I held on for the ride. I gave back just as good as I got. When his tongue brushed my bottom lip, I groaned.

Evidently, I was going to check hard and intense off on my internal checklist. He tasted of snow and dark corners that required a roaring fire to combat. I liked it.

I wanted more.