One Snowy Night (Heartbreaker Bay #2.5)(14)

Max shrugged. “I hope so. I know him, or I know who he is. He works with my older sister at the post office. He’s a good guy, married with three other kids. He says you can hitch a ride with him so you won’t miss Christmas morning. But you have to decide right this minute. He’s out of time.”

If she went, she could get home by dawn and make amends with her family. It was perfect and she was grateful for the offer but— Max, apparently taking her silence as a yes, reached in to take her hand.

“No,” she said, resisting but not letting go of his hand. Her heart was pounding. She knew she should take this opportunity and go. That’s what this whole thing was all about—-getting home in time. Or that’s what she thought it’d been all about.

But in that moment, she knew it was about far more. Like being a better person, one who put others first.

“No?” he repeated.

“No. Thank you but no. I’m not going when you’re stranded here with Carl missing.”

“I’ll find Carl,” he said.

“You might need help,” she insisted. “I’m not leaving you.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Rory, I can handle this.”

“Maybe.” Okay, definitely. Not the point. She wasn’t walking away from a friend. And yeah, maybe at the moment they weren’t friends exactly, but they were . . . something. “I’m still not leaving you out here alone in this storm on the side of the road,” she said. “So tell him thank you and good luck to him and his wife but I’m staying with you.”

Max looked at her as if she’d lost her damn mind but he strode back to the car, said a few words, and then the car was gone, leaving them alone on top of the world in a massive blizzard.

Max whistled for Carl but the wind was so loud, the sound got swallowed up.

Rory slipped out of the truck and back into the mind numbing cold to make her way to Max. “Carl!” she yelled and nearly got blown over by the next gust of wind.

Max caught her and held her at his side. “You could’ve gotten home,” he said. “You know you’re crazy, right?” he asked.

Yes, she knew. And yeah, her whole purpose had been to show her family she’d changed but hey, there’d be plenty of time to stress about that later. “This is for Carl, not you.”

He choked out a rough laugh. “You’re still crazy,” he said but he’d kept his arm around her, holding her close. And he didn’t sound quite as mad at her anymore.

Which might have just been wishful thinking on her part.

“Carl!” Max yelled, using the hand that wasn’t holding onto her to cup around his mouth. “Carl, come!”

From out of the woods came a huge snow abomination. When it was only a few feet from them, it stopped, shook, and sent snow flying.

Carl.

Proud of himself, he sat happily at their feet and panted a smile, while Rory fought with relieved tears.

What was wrong with her tonight?

Max got them all back into the truck. He dried off Carl the best he could and then turned to Rory.

She had no idea that she’d lost the battle with her emotions until Max cupped her face and swiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Rory,” he said, voice low and concerned.

“Does Christmas always have to suck so hard?” she whispered.

He looked at her for a long beat and then slowly shook his head. “No. Not always.”

They stared at each other some more and then . . . he kissed her. Softly at first, carefully, but she didn’t need either and let him know by fisting her hands in his jacket and letting out a needy little whimper for more.

This wrenched a deep, rough male groan from him that rumbled up from his chest, and she clutched at him, trying to get closer. Before she knew it, he’d hauled her over the console and into his lap, tucking her thighs on either side of his, letting her feel exactly how his body had responded to the kiss. He was hard.

Everywhere.

Hungry for the connection, desperate to forget her problems, trembling in her boots for more of this man beneath her, she kissed him back with all the pent--up longing and need she felt. When they broke free, his eyes were heavy--lidded with lust and desire, and she had one single, devastating thought.

All these years later, she still wanted him as her own.





Chapter Six


MAX DIDN’T OFTEN act without deliberate conscious thought. In his job, his life depended on him being a clear, levelheaded thinker at all times.

But at the moment, with the wind and snow beating up his truck on the outside, the interior both dark and intimate, his tongue halfway down Rory’s throat, he couldn’t kick--start his brain or mobilize his thoughts. All he could do was feel. And, Christ, what he felt. Rory’s loose hair streaming over his shoulders and arms as she strained against him, her petite body chilled enough to sink in and concern him—-which was an excuse to wrap her up even tighter in his arms.

Better.

Carl gave a happy “wuff,” and clearly thinking they were all going to wrestle, he tried to stick his big, fat head in between them.

Rory choked out a laugh and gave the dog a playful shove and then, in what might have been Max’s favorite part of the day, hell his entire year, Rory slid her fingers back into his hair and kissed him.

Yeah, that worked. Big time. He tried to keep it light but she kept responding with more than he expected, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, sliding it sensually against his, and he was a goner. With a groan, he tightened his grip on her and gave her all he had.