The Gamble (Colorado Mountain #1)(4)

I shoved the papers in my purse, snatched up my grocery bags, walked directly to him, stopped and tilted my head back to glare at him.

“So, who’s going to refund the money for the gas for the car?” I asked.

“Miss Sheridan –”

“Ms.,” I hissed, leaning toward him and then I continued. “And who’s going to refund my plane ticket all the way from England where I live but my passport is blue?” I didn’t let him respond before I went on. “And who’s going to pay me back for my holiday in a beautiful A-Frame in the Colorado mountains which I’ve spent seventeen plus hours travelling to reach, travelling, I might add, to a destination I paid for in full but didn’t get to enjoy at all?” He opened his mouth but I kept right on talking. “I didn’t fly over an ocean and most of a continent to stay in a clean hotel with nice views. I did it to stay here.”

“Listen –”

“No, you listen to me. I’m tired, my sinuses hurt and it’s snowing. I haven’t driven in snow in years, not like that.” I pointed into the darkness extending my grocery-bag laden arm. “And you’re sending me on my way, well past nine o’clock at night, after reneging on a contract.”

As I was talking, his face changed from looking annoyed to something I couldn’t decipher then, suddenly, he grinned and it irritated me to see he had perfect, white, even teeth.

“Your sinuses hurt?” he asked.

“Yes,” I snapped. “My sinuses hurt, a lot,” I told him then shook my head again, this time they were short, angry shakes. “Forget it, what do you care? I’m too tired for this.”

And I was. Way too tired. I’d figure out what I was going to do tomorrow.

Then I stomped somewhat dramatically (and I was of the opinion I could be forgiven for that too) into the night, thinking this was my answer. This was the universe telling me I should play it safe. Marry Niles. Embrace security even if it was mostly boring and deep down if I admitted it to myself, it made me feel lonelier than I’ve ever felt in my life.

Paralyzingly lonely.

Who cared?

If this was an adventure, it stunk.

I’d rather be sitting in front of a TV with Niles (kind of).

I opened the boot and put the bags back in and when I tried to close it, it wouldn’t move.

This was because Unfriendly, Amazing-Looking Man was now outside, standing by my car and he had a firm hand on it.

“Let go,” I demanded.

“Come back into the house, we’ll work somethin’ out, least for tonight.”

Was he mad? Work something out? As in, him and me staying in the A-Frame together? I didn’t even know his name and, furthermore, he was a jerk.

“Thank you,” I said snottily, “no. Let go.”

“Come into the house,” he repeated.

“Let go,” I repeated right back at him.

He leaned close to me. “Listen, Duchess, it’s cold, it’s snowing, we’re both standin’ outside like idiots arguing over what you wanted in the first place. Come into the damned house. You can sleep on the couch.”

“I am not going to sleep on a couch.” Then my head jerked and I asked, “Duchess?”

“My couch is comfortable and beggars can’t be chosers.”

I let that slide and repeated, “Duchess?”

He threw his other hand out, his gaze drifting the length of me as he said, “Fancy-ass clothes, fancy-ass purse, fancy-ass boots, fancy-ass accent.” His eyes came to my face and he finished firmly. “Duchess.”

“I’m American!” I shouted.

“Right,” he replied.

“They don’t have duchesses in America,” I educated him.

“Well, that’s the truth.”

Why was I explaining about aristocracy? I returned to target.

“Let go!” I shouted again.

He completely ignored me shouting and looked into the boot.

Then he asked what I thought was insanely, “Groceries?”

“Yes,” I snapped, “I bought them in Denver.”

He looked at me and grinned again and again I thought it was insanely before he muttered, “Rookie mistake.”

“Would you let go so I can close the boot and be on my way?”

“Boot?”

“Trunk!”

“English.”

I think at that point I might have growled but being as I was alarmed at seeing only red, I didn’t really take note.

“Mr…” I hesitated then said, “whoever-you-are –”

“Max.”

“Mr. Max –”

“No, just Max.”

I leaned toward him and snapped, “Whatever,” then demanded, “Let go of the car.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” I bit out. “Seriously. Let. Go. Of. The. Car.”

He let go of the car and said, “Suit yourself.”

“It would suit me if I could travel back in time and not click ‘book now’ on that stupid webpage,” I muttered as I slammed the boot and stomped to the driver’s side door. “Idyllic A-Frame in the Colorado Mountains, not even bloody close. More like Your Worst Snowstorm Nightmare in the Colorado Mountains.”