“Anything I can do?”
“It’s not like I’ve lived in an Amish community all my life.” She cocked an eyebrow, some of her old spitfire spark returning. “We have electricity, running water, cars. It’s like living in a small town, which sums up Alaska in a lot of ways. And I run a gym. I’m a successful businesswoman.”
“I didn’t mean to sound condescending.”
“Try uninformed,” she snapped.
“And you’re touchy.”
“I’ll grant you that one. It’s been a scary day. I’ve lost friends I didn’t even know were dead,” she said, avoiding his gaze. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a rubber band she’d bought when purchasing the granola. “And you might laugh, but I’m worried about my dog.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Your friends, Liam McCabe and Hugh Franco, they’ll really check on him, just because you asked?”
“Just because I asked. You could say if Chewie’s with me, then that makes him officially one of our pack.”
“That’s nice, really nice.” Her eyes fell away, shifting to stare out the window. “They must think I’m a freak.”
He pulled the truck into a parking spot, jacked it into park.
“Since when do you give a damn what other people think?” His hand gravitated to the shiny blue streak through her hair, hesitated only an instant before stroking down the length slowly, very slowly, taking his time to touch her. He wouldn’t waste a second of what could be his last chance with her.
Her throat moved in a long swallow, her chest rising and falling faster. “Maybe I care what you think.”
She swayed closer to him, the first sign she’d given him that she felt the same connection from last night, the same regret that it would end so soon.
He reached toward her hair, carefully, waiting for her to object. She eyed him warily, but stayed quiet. The snow and slush and slow-motion world outside faded as the truck cab narrowed to just the two of them. He moved closer and slicked back her hair in his hands, the long silky strands gliding across his skin, reminding him of the way it brushed across his chest as she moved over him.
Holding her hair back with one hand, he extended his other palm for the rubber band. “I think you’re a fascinating, incredibly competent woman.”
“And hot, right?” She dropped the hair tie into his grip.
“That goes without saying.” He slid the purple band around her ponytail, and while the job wasn’t perfect, there was something definitely sexy about the low-slung hair gathered slightly to the side.
All the more sexy because every time he looked at it, he thought of his fingers in her hair, his right to touch her. The way she granted him that right without pulling back. It was something to hold on to in a day where frustration chewed through him over saying good-bye, over the secrets she still held.
Her lips parted.
He waited for her, taking her with his eyes while he waited for her to take him right back.
“Wade?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Babe?”
“Sorry. Gorgeous babe?”
She rolled her eyes. “Have you ever had a moose burger?”
Not the pillow talk he was expecting, but then when had this woman ever done the expected? He gathered her ponytail in his hand. “Can’t say that I have.”
He lost himself in the slide of her hair between his fingers while waiting to see where she would go with this line of conversation.
“Moose burgers are amazing. They have less fat, with the gamey kick of deer, but the high-quality taste of a prime cut.” Her eyes held his, unflinching as they sat mere inches apart in his truck cab, connected by his hold on her hair. “There are no artificial growth hormones. It’s healthier all the way around.”
“Makes sense.”