Bast woke up alone.
Lately, this was not that unusual. Over the last year, he’d been rather down about his injury, which had a net effect on his sex life. He didn’t feel like going through the motions, playing the game of flirtation—not that he needed to employ that much in the way of gamesmanship to get someone into his bed. But he had not been as active in that area since he broke his wrist.
Or, not active at all.
At first, it was because he didn’t want to risk hurting it. Protecting it was key. Then he just got out of the habit. Until the night he met Pepper, and then suddenly, hello, libido, where ya been?
Lately he’d been feeling on edge and could have done with a night of sweaty sex before his season started. But something had held him back. He’d gone the entire spring and summer without trying, all because—well, he wasn’t sure why. The yips, he supposed.
So waking up without a warm woman wasn’t so unusual. But waking up in an empty car with the windscreen covered in snow was unexpected.
The car was parked, the engine off, the driver nowhere to be found. He fumbled for his phone, wondering where they were. Wondering where Pepper was and hoping she was safe.
He had several messages from Reid.
Are you okay?
Have you checked the weather?
Text me when you get in.
When had his brother become such a mother hen?
The trunk opened, bringing with it a blast of cold air and a thump as something was dropped in it. Ten seconds later, Pepper was back in the driver’s seat.
“Where were you?” he barked.
“A little cranky when we wake up, are we?”
“You weren’t here.” He didn’t go to the trouble of rescuing her to have her fall down a damn gorge or something. “You should have woken me.”
“You needed your rest. We’re a few miles out, so I stopped for supplies.”
“Reid has the place kitted out for the Apocalypse. We’ll be okay.”
“You needed fresh milk and coffee and fruit. And there’s no ‘we’ here.”
He could say powdered creamer, instant, and Trader Joe’s dried apricot shit, but he didn’t. Instead he picked up on the other thing.
“What do you mean there’s no ‘we’ here? You’ll be staying at the lake house tonight. It’s too late to go back, and I haven’t had a chance to organize the return trip for you.”
“Or yell at me properly.”
“Yeah. Mustn’t forget that.” Once he was more awake, he planned to break it all down.
How she’d ruined his comeback with her terrible skating.
How she’d almost ruined his signing onto the Rebels with her lying.
How those hazel eyes and luscious lips haunted his nights.
Maybe not the last one.
He took another look out the window, which was now completely covered.
“Did you really think you were dropping me off and skedaddling? Not in this weather.”
“It’s not that bad,” she said, her tone more hopeful than confident. The windscreen wipers strained mightily to remove the heavy, wet snow that was clinging barnacle-like to the glass.
“I’ll drive the last few miles,” Bast said. “You’ve done enough.”
“It’s okay, really.”
But he was already out and around to the driver side. The snow was falling consistently now, crunching like broken glass underfoot. “Just climb over the stick.”
“I can walk around—”
“Now, Pepper!”
With a peel-his-skin glare, she clambered over to the passenger side, and he made sure to help himself to a good eyeball fill of her most excellent ass. All curves, the perfect roundness for his hands.
She settled in the seat with an oomph and turned to catch his ogle.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
He’d had the hots for her in that bar and now desire was rearing its head again. Which was inconvenient because she was the last woman on earth he wanted to think of like that.
Were the rumors about her and Gallagher true? That she cheated with his teammate, broke the guy’s heart, and ruined his career? Connor hadn’t said so outright, but he blamed Pepper. Said she was a jinx. The press were of the same mind. The focus of the media was on what had happened to Gallagher, but what about the effect on Pepper?
So many questions.
He adjusted the seat back a couple of inches, started the car, and checked the GPS. Five miles out. “What’s the forecast?”
Pepper was on her phone, her eyebrows crimping in that way he really enjoyed.
“This can’t be right. It’s now saying that the snow is supposed to fall for thirty-six hours.” She passed her phone over as if he might interpret it differently.
This was not what he saw this morning. “I checked the weather coming up, and it said two inches. This is projecting a foot or more.”
“Are you kidding me? How the hell am I supposed to get back to Chicago in this?”
“We’ll assess tomorrow and worry about it then.” He nudged the rearview mirror, not that anything was visible. “Let’s just focus on not dying on the way to the lake house, okay?”
She looked over her shoulder. “Maybe there’s a hotel in town. They’d be better equipped for an easier exit tomorrow.”
“Maybe. But we’re a few miles away from the house. Let’s stick to the plan instead of pulling a Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and looking for an inn.”
She folded her arms. “Drive on, Mr. Bossy.”
He put the car in Drive and inched out onto the road. Shit, it was coming down hard, but this SUV had four-wheel drive so he wasn’t too worried about getting stuck.
Five miles took forty minutes, but soon they were turning into the driveway down to Reid’s place. He’d bought it last summer and Bast had seen a ton of photos. Right on the lake with its own dock, a hot tub, room for a pony.
A wave of tiredness hit him, the last twenty-four hours finally catching up. The excitement of his return, the soul-crush of failure. He just wanted to sleep and wake up in a world where his wrist was healed.
Instead he’d created a world where he was stuck with her.
Six hours ago, he needed to get away, and having Pepper drive seemed like a smart idea. Give his wrist and brain a break. While he agreed the crash was an accident, that didn’t make everything better. She needed to suffer and atone somehow; driving four hundred miles out of her way seemed like a good start.
He hadn’t reckoned on a snowstorm, or how his dick pulsed with life every time she leaned in close. Neither had he reckoned with how her scent filled the car, or her ass looked perfect enough to take a bite from. He especially hadn’t reckoned on still wanting her despite their complicated history.
Now the smart idea didn’t seem so smart.
Now it seemed kind of stupid.
Because he was pretty sure that Pepper wasn’t getting out of here tomorrow. Or the day after that.
Which meant the only person likely to suffer here was him.
15
Pepper couldn’t catch a break.
They were in the middle of nowhere, caught in a snowstorm. With how it was raging, there was no way she’d make it out tomorrow, which left her stuck. With Bast Durand.