If anything could make him forget what the hell he was doing, it was Kylie Fisher.
God, she was fucking gorgeous. And funny. And she knew what the hell she was talking about when she called out the plays during the games he’d become addicted to watching with her.
He’d become addicted to her, period. He didn’t know why she’d be in such a hurry to get to him that she’d risk her safety, but he’d be damned if he didn’t ride to her rescue anyway.
She wasn’t easy to read, on any level. Sure, she smiled and flirted and laughed as freely as anyone he’d ever met, but something dark lurked in her eyes that hadn’t been there in college. He didn’t know what her deal was or why her habit of standing on the sides of her battered tennis shoes while she watched the basketball games on the TV behind the bar was so damned irresistible.
One thing he did know, however, was that she was taken, with a live-in boyfriend and commitment ring on her fourth finger.
Which meant paws off.
He’d find her. Somehow. Even if he had to comb these damn trails all night.
He pushed down on the gas, pausing as he glimpsed a bright pink glove up ahead poking out of the snow like a talisman.
Or a warning.
The only place he’d seen quite that shade of pink before was Kylie’s gloves and matching coat, though in the dark the color didn’t match his memory. But still.
Shit, what if she was badly hurt? What the hell had she been thinking, coming out for a ride on a night like this? Her boyfriend was the snowmobiler, not her.
She’d expressed a little interest when Justin had mentioned going out on the trails, but she seemed more into basketball and trying to ply him with mixed drinks, the girlier the better.
Strangely enough, he always enjoyed her concoctions too. She added grenadine to everything, and if there was one cherry he wouldn’t mind a taste of, it was hers.
Justin continued up the trail, going faster than he should’ve in the driving snow. The canopy of naked tree branches laden with ice blocked most of the light of the emerging moon, so he traveled deeper into the woods mostly from memory, following a path he’d covered many times before. He knew this trail, and the brutally cold air scraping his throat barely stole his attention from the flavor of fear coating his tongue.
He had one worry, and it sure as hell wasn’t for himself.
He shot around a bend and saw the hulk of black on its side up ahead, headlights staring straight into his eyes. He threw up a hand to shield his gaze even as he steered carefully to the side of the path. Another bundle of black lay on the snow, but this one was smaller and lower to the ground.
Panic rippled along his spine and turned into a full-blown shudder.
Dammit.
With a sharp turn of his wrist, he silenced his engine and dismounted. His footsteps crunched as he approached the unmoving form, and his heartbeat thudded dully in his ears.
He wouldn’t freak out. He’d come across downed riders on the trail before, and none of them had been seriously hurt.
She wouldn’t be either.
Tufts of pale blond hair stuck out from underneath her knit cap, and the tangled strands draped over the shoulders of her puffy coat.
Her puffy pink coat.
As silly as it was, he’d hoped until that moment he’d come upon someone else. Anything so she wouldn’t be lying motionless on the ground.
He rushed forward and knelt in the snow, barely aware of the wet seeping into the knees of his jeans. Right then, he could only see her. He turned her face toward him gently as he clutched her bare hand in his. She was so cold. So small and still.
“Kylie,” he whispered. “Can you hear me, baby?”
She didn’t answer for so long that he started to fumble his cell phone out of his jacket. He couldn’t wait. Time was of the essence. If she was seriously hurt—
She groaned and rolled awkwardly onto her back. “Justin? You found me.”
Relief crashed over him in a swift, knee-weakening wave. Her eyes hadn’t opened yet, but she knew his voice. “Yes, it’s me. Yeah, I did. Luck. I just got lucky.” The rawness of his tone as he bent forward to kiss her cheek would have stunned him if worry hadn’t crowded every other thought out of his mind. “Sweetheart, I’m going to get you help.” He stuck his fingers in his mouth and yanked off his glove so he could use his phone. If only his fucking hand would stop shaking. “Okay?”
“No.” She shifted restlessly, kicking her leg out hard enough to nearly topple him on to his side. “I’m okay. Just dizzy. Turned too fast. Protected my…head.” She moaned and clawed her bare hand through the snow beside her hip. “F-freezing. Help me up.”
He stared at her as she forced herself onto her elbows, though her eyes had yet to open. Thanks to the backwash from her headlights, he could see the shadow of a bruise darkening her cheek. One of many, he was sure. “Kylie, you could have a concussion. Or internal injuries.”
“Didn’t hit my head. Hold up your fucking fingers. I’ll count them.” With a furious exhale, she opened her eyes to glare at him. He couldn’t see her expression clearly, but impatience leaked from her lithe, vibrating body. “Well?” she demanded when he gazed at her stupidly.
Goddamn, she was so beautiful. Flakes clung to her cheeks and melted on her lips. She could be injured, perhaps badly, and all he could do was look at her as if he’d never seen a damn female before.
His cock came to life at the same instant as his mind threw up the one protest capable of shutting down his libido. Other than the possibility she could be seriously injured, that is, which was more than weighty enough.
But persisto-cock persevered.
She probably makes love to her man every night. She’s happy. She’s fucking taken, got it?
No, he didn’t get it, because the fingers of the hand he’d gripped didn’t have any rings. Her commitment ring was gone.
“Justin?”
He set down his phone on his thigh and held up three fingers. Her health was what mattered now, not her availability. “How many?”
“Three,” she said, sounding almost smug. To his astonishment, she stumbled to her feet, though he had to jump up and steady her when she swayed. “See? I’m fine. A little wobbly, maybe, but with a hot bath and some rest, I’ll be good as—”
Her eyes closed again as he clamped his hands on her waist and brought her shivering body close to his, impressive hard-on aside. Even the cold didn’t seem to affect the damn thing. But she’d certainly been around guys with hard dicks before, and she was shaking so fiercely he was afraid she’d lose her balance.
“Whoa, dizzy.” She wet her lips. “Maybe I’m not fine.”
“Maybe not.” He glanced down at his phone lying in the snow, but made no move to reach for it. No way was he letting her go. “You should see a doctor.”
“No, I’ll be all right. I’ve hurt myself worse falling off a ladder.” She looked down pointedly between their bodies. “Besides, you’re hurting too, aren’t you?”
So much for avoiding erection detection. Cuddling her against him hadn’t exactly helped on that score.
He started to deny it. He wasn’t that guy. Sex ranked pretty high on his list of priorities, but he’d never be so crass as to put his wants—his extremely inappropriate wants—above his friend’s safety.