It’s getting late now, so dark outside that there’s no way to see whether the snow is still falling. But I’m sure it is. Because that’s just my luck. I try to stifle a yawn, unsuccessfully.

 

“You must be tired. I know I’m beat.” He stands, stretching again. Again, I can’t help admiring his body, the way his shirt rides up to reveal his torso. His jeans sit low on his hips, and the two diagonal lines leading to his groin are so clearly defined I have to stop myself from trying to lick them.

 

Wow. I must be exhausted. Either that or the cold and the whiskey got to me more than I thought. Why else would I be looking at him this way? A good night’s sleep would be the best thing for me. Alone. By myself. Would a cold shower be out of the question?

 

“It’s been a long day,” I agree, forcing all these flustering thoughts out of my brain. That line of thinking has only gotten me into trouble in the past.

 

“I’ll show you to your room,” he offers, and to my surprise he holds out a hand. A gentleman, even if he doesn’t always act like one. I stand close to him. He looks down at me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Damn, damn, damn.

 

“It just occurred to me that you don’t have anything to sleep in.”

 

Oh? That just occurred to him? Why was he thinking about my clothes?

 

“Um, yeah. You’re right.” I decide not to ask, choosing to avoid another fight. It’s not worth it, and besides, he has a point. A sweater and jeans aren’t the most comfortable pajamas.

 

“I’m sure I have something that wouldn’t be too huge for you,” he says, finally moving away from me. I can breathe normally again. I can also stop tingling in my nether regions. He puts out the fire, which gets me thinking about the way his nearness makes me feel warm. Jeez. I need to snap out of this, fast. Otherwise this could be a really uncomfortable night.

 

“You okay?” He looks up at me from where he’s bent over the hearth, and he looks amused. As though he can read my mind. I’m annoyed with him. He thinks I’m staring like I’m swooning over him. Asshole.

 

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just thought you looked funny.” He turns back to the hearth, and I watch the way his muscles move underneath his shirt. He’s sure he has something that wouldn’t be too huge for me. Was that some sort of double entendre I missed? I blush, then feel angry with myself for blushing and with him for being so crude.

 

It would be different if he weren’t so damn hot, but he is. I can’t deny it. I wish he weren’t. I wish I could just ignore him, brush him off as being unimportant. But I can’t. He’s gorgeous and magnetic and I can’t stop thinking about what he would look like naked. A cold shower really is starting to sound like a good idea right now. Or a jump into a snow bank.

 

The fire’s out now, and the room is dark. I sense the tension between us. If there were a spark somewhere nearby, we might explode. The dog comes up and nudges my hand. I jump, then laugh softly, grateful for a change of subject.

 

“What’s his name?” I ask Christopher, scratching the hound behind the ears.

 

“Scout. After a dog I had when I was a kid.”

 

Sweet. “A perfect name for a handsome boy. Yes, he is a handsome boy, yes he is.” I scratch harder. Scout obviously loves the attention, judging by the way he licks my hand.

 

“He doesn’t like baby talk,” Christopher informs me sourly.

 

Even in the darkness, I can imagine what his face looks like, and I want to punch it. “Really? And he told you this? How articulate for a dog.”

 

I hear him snort softly. “Come on. I’ll find you something to wear.” In the dim light, I can just make out the stairs leading to the second floor. There are two bedrooms, I see, separated by a bathroom. I can just make out an old-fashioned claw foot tub and wonder if it would be gauche to request a soak.

 

“You can, um, freshen up in there if you want,” Christopher offers, flipping the light switch. “I’ll find you some clean pajamas.”

 

There are two types of people in the world, my father used to tell me. Those who go through the medicine cabinets at their friends’ houses and those who lie and say they don’t. I couldn’t resist the temptation to look around the bathroom, but there was nothing very interesting outside of a small hutch filled with porno magazines. Classy. Besides, don’t they have that stuff on the internet now?

 

I wash my face and rinse with mouthwash, hoping to at least be able to get my things out of the car in the morning if nothing else. I know the vehicle is buried by now, my toiletries and things locked up in the trunk.

 

When I emerge, I find Christopher in the smaller of the two bedrooms, laying a tee and boxers on the bed along with a pair of thick knee socks. “This was the best I could do,” he says, shrugging. “They’re old, and smaller than the stuff I wear now.”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine for bed.” I can’t help but feel touched by how hard he’s trying. He’s just awkward, unused to having people here with him. That has to be it. Otherwise he’s not such a bad guy.

 

“I’ll leave Scout with you if you want someone to help warm the bed for you. I can’t say I’m up for the challenge.” Oh, wait. Now I remember: he’s a total asshole.

 

“I don’t need you, or Scout, thank you very much. I’ll be just fine in here on my own. Goodnight.” I place my palms on his chest and firmly push him in the direction of the open doorway. Instead of moving him, however, I only manage to notice how firm his chest is. The guy is built, and utterly masculine. His strong, assertive energy fills the tiny bedroom.

 

“I’ll go. You don’t need to shove.” He grins, backing into the hall and closing the door behind him. I fight the urge to scream at the closed door, knowing it would only make him happy to know he’d unnerved me.

 

I sit on the bed with a heavy sigh. What the hell am I gonna do with this guy? One minute I want to punch him straight in the face, the next I want to tackle him to the ground and make out with him. If not more. I look down at my hands, which were just on his chest. Damn, he’s in fantastic shape. Like, supernaturally well-built.

 

I can’t afford to think about this stuff now. I have to try to get to sleep and forget my hormones for a little while. The shirt, a faded old thing that looks like it might once have advertised a band whose name I can’t make out, hangs halfway to my knees. The boxers are enormous, too. The socks pretty much go most of the way up my calves.

 

At least I’ll be comfortable.

 

I crawl into bed, marveling at how soft and comfortable it is. Much better than the idea of sleeping in my car and freezing to death.

 

No matter how much he pisses me off, I have to remind myself that he saved my life. I’d easily have died out there if he hadn’t come to drag me to this house, to sleep in this warm, comfy bed with its down comforter and feather pillows.

 

Now if I can just manage to get some sleep and stop wondering what Christopher looks like naked, I’ll be all set.