Chapter Twelve
The next morning was sunny and a few degrees above freezing, if the display on Liam’s phone was to be trusted. Claire was still asleep, so he took his backpack and snuck upstairs to collect the stockings. If he could get her to leave him alone at the post office, he could just buy shipping materials and package them there. They’d be fixed up good as new in new time. He hoped it would be a nice surprise. She’d walked away from them pretty damned fast, but maybe she just didn’t like seeing them in disrepair.
When he came back down, he stood there for a moment, watching her on the makeshift bed, wishing he could light the fire so she wouldn’t have to crawl out from under those blankets to a cold room, but not wanting to do so when they were headed out. The lodge might have the biggest hearth he’d ever seen, but it wasn’t big enough to leave unattended. Not by a long shot. He settled for tucking her clothes under the blankets with her, letting her body heat warm them.
Hell, as hot as she was, they’d probably combust under there. And if he didn’t want to get those stockings sent off to be fixed, he’d probably crawl right back under with her. But he had that and another surprise for her, which was a good thing. He needed to be excited about leaving the lodge, because being there with her was the kind of temptation he needed to forget about.
Everything else, he sorely needed to remember.
Like what it was like to not be able to walk down the street without people pointing, whispering, and/or taking pictures. Or screaming. That last one didn’t happen as often as the rest, but without exception, the screamers occurred in loud, shrill groups of barely legal girls, and that creeped him the fuck out. And despite the slight uptick in business, Fusion dealt with so many phone calls from people just looking for Liam that at times, his mom couldn’t keep up with answering the phone, which undoubtedly drove away real business. The entire thing sucked for all of them, and he hated to think how much worse it could get, but had no doubt it could get there, and in a hurry.
This thing with Claire was great when they were the only two around. And it might be okay for one day in a small town where she was operating under a different name, fresh faced and nearly unrecognizable, and where no one would think to look for him. But his life was in the city, and taking this back there was not an option. He needed his old life back.
He would not get that by any kind of public association with the Runaway Bride.
Even if the sex was the most phenomenal of his life.
Especially because the sex was the least of it.
He wasn’t a guy with deeply felt connections, so he had no idea where this one with her had come from. The isolation probably lent a certain intimacy they wouldn’t have found, say, on the subway, but it’s not like they were holed up, running for their lives. They were just hanging out.
Hanging out shouldn’t feel like this.
And glancing in her direction and finding her sleepy blue gaze on him shouldn’t make his heart skip a dozen beats. “Morning,” he said.
“Already?” she murmured.
He laughed. They’d seen the sun come up, or at least the sky lighten, before they’d finally drifted off in each other’s arms. Morning wasn’t the surprise. For him, it was that he was up before noon.
“Rise and shine. I put your clothes under the blankets so they’d warm up. We have an appointment.”
Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “What kind of appointment?”
A smile toyed at his lips. He couldn’t wait to tell her, but there was no way she’d get any advanced warning out of him. “Would you just trust me? Get moving.”
“Give me fifteen minutes,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “You can be ready in fifteen minutes?”
She glared, though there wasn’t any punch behind it. “Do I look so bad that I can’t be presentable in fifteen minutes?”
“Not what I meant.” Apparently he sucked at morning-after small talk as readily as he did night-before. And pretty much every other time. Fortunately, she seemed a lot more interested in giving him a hard time than in taking actual offense, and in twelve minutes flat, she was with him at the door, absolutely stunning.
Stunning enough that he wanted to haul her right back to bed.
“What?” she asked when she caught him staring.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. And the words came easily. The simple truth couldn’t do her justice, especially not when she smiled. He kind of wanted to turn away from that and the way it made him feel, but he’d have plenty of time to look at other things. He’d be on his way back to the city soon. Eventually he’d be back to get his truck—or so he hoped—but he needed to be through with her. Moving on.
She held his gaze for a moment, then looked away, murmuring thanks. She seemed uncomfortable, and he had no clue what he’d said to spur that. More evidence that in the bright light of day he needed to be thinking about escaping. Do the job, and go home.
Outside, she tossed him the keys to her truck. He caught them on reflex.
“Your turn,” she said. “I’d rather enjoy the view. Besides, if you tell Monk you took a Ford for a spin, he might not give you such a hard time about that Chevy.”
He grinned. He loved the idea of getting back behind the wheel, even if it wasn’t his truck. “I’d be honored to drive you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Keep that up, and I’m taking your keys.”
“Fine.” He cast a mock glare. “Get in.”
The roads were crap. The plow, a good idea in theory, had only removed the stuff that might have provided some traction and packed the remaining snow into a solid sheet of ice. If the sun managed to melt any of it, and it refroze that night, they’d be worse in the morning. Thank goodness for four-wheel-drive and not so much for steep grades.
“How did you end up with a truck?” he asked. Not many people from the city owned cars, at least not relative to the population itself, and most of those who did seemed to own compacts. This chainsaw-wielding woman, meanwhile, had a big-ass truck.
“My sole form of teenage rebellion,” she said. “My dad drove those race cars. All I ever heard about were cars. I bought my first truck the day I turned eighteen. It made me feel better, even though my mom said it was unladylike.”
He laughed. “It’s hot.”
“Yeah, well, heat leads to unladylike things.”
He shot her a grin. They certainly had hours of shared memories to attest to that, and the thirty-minute ride down the mountain gave him plenty of time to reflect.
The little resort town wasn’t as small as many he’d visited, but like almost anywhere, it was dwarfed by the city. Claire pointed him in the direction of Monk’s, where he was somewhat buoyed by the fact that his truck was actually inside. On a lift. Great. He was going to have to get them to lower it so he could get the rest of the equipment he needed, which made him feel like a pain in the ass, but Fusion was being paid for their work.
Claire disappeared while he stood there, staring, and returned moments later with a young man who resembled Monk enough to be his son. Liam shook hands with him and said he needed to get something out of his truck, and the kid lowered it, no problem. “Thanks, man,” Liam said, and handed him a twenty for his five minutes of trouble. Tips moved mountains in the city—either that, or were demanded or taken for granted. Here, they might only move trucks, but he appreciated it nonetheless.
“I want to get a few groceries,” Claire said when they left the garage. Liam likely wouldn’t be getting his truck back any time soon, which meant he was probably going to have to accept Ethan’s offer of a ride home. Eventually.
Right now, Liam had much better things to do.
“I’ll help you later. First, I have a surprise.”
“You have a surprise for me?” When he nodded, she said, “How is that possible? You don’t even live here.”
“I can still do surprises,” he said. He pointed to a diner that happened to be within walking distance of the post office, which wasn’t that much of a coincidence, considering the walk from one end of Main Street to the other was less than a mile. “Why don’t you grab a table for us and let me hit the post office and drop this bag off at your truck? I’ll meet you there in ten for a late breakfast.”
“Ten minutes? And you need to go to the post office?” She laughed.
Well, now it was an issue of pride. “If I’m not there in fifteen minutes, order something for me with lots of meat. Sausage, bacon, ham, whatever they’ve got that comes with eggs and coffee. I’m buying.”
She gave him a soft, almost thoughtful smile. “Okay. I’ll wait for you there.”
Well, there he had it. A bet-winning date. Only it wasn’t, because he wasn’t finished with the job and Sawyer was a stickler for details when it came to bets. And there was an entire huge, glaring possibility—hell, probability—that this particular liaison had everything to do with logistics and nothing to do with any actual affection her part.
Nevertheless, he watched with way too much appreciation as she walked away from him. She didn’t look back. He should have been thrilled, but instead he was staring after her like some kid with a crush. Which really needed to stop. There was no way they were going anywhere with this, but that didn’t stop him from going to the post office and carefully folding the stockings into a box that he overnighted to his mom. Then he stashed his stuff in Claire’s truck and made a quick call to confirm their appointment early that afternoon. Then, grinning, he slid into the booth across from her.
“There was a sampler,” she said. “All the meat, plus eggs, potatoes, and pancakes.”
“That sounds great,” he said. His stomach rumbled its own vote, and he dove into his coffee, black.
Thirty minutes later, he’d decided small-town breakfasts were the best. The heaping plate of food he’d been given was so far removed from his usual granola bar that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to eat out of a package again. Although eating like that would turn him into a rock. One who couldn’t strap on his snowboard.
Or climb into a sleigh.
After breakfast, they walked just to the edge of town, where a massive horse with feathered feet and a harness covered in bells awaited, attached to a sleigh that was nearly dwarfed by the size of the animal.
The surprise Liam planned for Claire. Something Christmassy and safe, even for someone who didn’t get along with wintery things.
“Your chariot awaits,” Liam said, throwing in a formal arm sweep that was probably cheesy, but whatever.
“Sir,” said the scrawny teenaged kid standing by the rig. “It’s not a chariot. It’s a—”
“It’s a sleigh. I get it.” He offered a smile to temper his words, lest he sound like a jerk. But seriously, the thing sat on runners. What idiot wouldn’t know it was a sleigh? To Claire, he said, “I thought we should find a winter activity you could actually enjoy.”
“I thought we’d done that last night,” she said, giving the horse the side-eye. “That thing is huge.”
“And I heard that last night.”
“Liam.” A pretty pink flush made her skin look porcelain under the winter sun. God, she was gorgeous. “I meant the horse.”
The young driver shifted and apparently found something really interesting on the horizon.
“There are blankets and hot chocolate,” Liam said, hoping something sounded tempting. He hadn’t considered she’d refuse. The day was perfect for a sleigh ride, with a crystalline blue sky, a relatively fresh snowfall, and temps pushing forty. After a few days below freezing, forty felt almost tropical. “And I promise not to sing ‘Jingle Bells’, despite the obvious necessity with it being a one-horse open sleigh and all that.”
“Well, that’s great. Now every time I hear that song, I’m going to think of you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Good or bad.”
“Let’s make it good. You’re going to love this. All you have to do is not fall over the side.” He glanced at the driver. “How many people fall over the side?”
The poor kid didn’t seem to know if Liam was joking or if the question actually needed an answer. Eventually he went with the latter. “Um, I don’t think anyone falls over.”
“See?” Liam said to Claire. “No one falls over.”
“Okay.” She sighed, but then she smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were piled under what had to be horse blankets, considering the smell and the amount of hair on them, but they were warm. As was the hot chocolate. Liam wasn’t much of a hot chocolate guy, but even he had to admit it was the beverage of choice for a sleigh ride. But what mattered most was Claire was glowing. He’d never seen her so happy. Her eyes perfectly matched the hue of a blue, cloudless sky, and her laughter made him warm in places a pile of blankets couldn’t touch.
The horse, as it turned out, wore a godawful noisy set of bells, which were cute at first. Not so cute after twenty minutes, but Claire seemed to enjoy them, so Liam tried to tune them out. Until the sleigh jerked a few times and the kid at the helm voiced a few not-so-joyful words, for which he immediately apologized. “Sorry,” the kid muttered. “He doesn’t like the bells.”
Hell if Liam and the horse didn’t have something in common. “Dude. You can take off the bells. We’ll cool with it.”
The kid shook his head. “No, they’re on the harness.”
“You’re the one who threatened jingle bells,” Claire said. But her amusement came to a halt about the time the horse did, digging into the snow. The driver smacked the reins.
The horse kicked. Hard.
Claire dug her fingertips into Liam’s leg, and for the first time since she’d rested her hand there, he was grateful she hadn’t rested it higher.
“Why is he wearing bells when he hates bells?” Liam asked.
“It’s his first time. For Christmas.” The kid seemed a bit wary of the animal. Anyone should have been, big as the horse was, but Liam kind of assumed the guy had a handle on things. Even if the thing in question was only following orders because he’d wanted to, because there was no way an creature that big could be coerced into trotting around dragging a sleigh full of people if he was against it. Which, come to think of it, made riding in that sleigh a bit of a dicey idea.
“Of course it’s his first time,” Claire said. “I told you I was a disaster with all things snow and ice.”
The driver looked back over his shoulder as the sleigh jolted backward. “She’s a disaster?”
“She’s wearing a horse blanket and holding a cup of hot chocolate,” Liam said. “She’s currently the least disastrous person on earth.”
“We shouldn’t be going backward,” the driver said, trying to urge the horse forward, or so Liam assumed, because he knew shit about horses other than apparently they found the nonstop jingling of bells as annoying as he did.
“The ride isn’t as smooth this way,” Liam said. “But on the plus side, the bells aren’t making nearly as much noise.”
Pretty much on cue, the horse jumped sideways in response to something the driver did, and the sled tilted and came to a jarring halt. And just like that, the world was strangely silent, at least until the horse blew out a breath that made him sound more dragon than equine. “I think we’re stuck in a rut or something,” the driver said, his tone dubious.
Of course they were. They were leaning at a worrisome angle, and the tracks beneath them were deep enough to have cut through the snow and into mud.
“Been doing this job long?” Claire asked, her brow raised.
“Since I was knee high,” the driver said. “It’s fine. He’s just—” He quit talking when they jolted, followed by the sound of a snap. Which was apparently something the horse didn’t like, because that enormous, cumbersome looking beast took off like he was in the Kentucky Derby. Only he was only half attached to the sled, so he ended up spinning them in a circle before the last harness strap finally snapped. Which was how they ended up tipped at a good thirty degrees, wearing hot chocolate and wet horse blankets, while a two-thousand-pound draft horse kicked divots of filthy snow in their faces on a mad dash the hell out of there.
Thirty fucking minutes from town.
For the longest time, no one moved. Once the thunder of hoof beats and wildly jingling bells faded, there was only the light dripping of melted snow falling from the trees and a bewildered driver and Claire giving him the most reluctantly victorious I told you so look that had ever existed.
“It’s funny,” Liam finally said, because someone had to say something. Sitting there about to fall over was just plain awkward. Especially next to a woman who knew she’d been right. “The infamous Runaway Bride meets runaway horse.”
He realized his mistake about the time the words left his mouth. Claire had gone there to escape the whole runaway bride thing, and he’d just outed her. To a kid young enough to have been raised on social media, but who might not have thought anything about it before she slammed her hot chocolate cup against his chest. Warm, dark liquid exploded covered his jacket. Apparently she’d spilled less of her drink in the incident than he had.
“So says Hot HVAC Guy,” she fired back with a murderous glare.
The driver, who had been watching them, wide-eyed, said, “Hot HVAC Guy? The Hot HVAC Guy? Hey, I’ve heard of you.”
Liam looked up from the hot chocolate that had spilled from the broken cup and was now soaking into his jacket. “Me? You’ve heard of me, but not her?”
“I am not her,” Claire shouted.
“I think you’re a her,” Liam said as she half-climbed, half fell out of the sleigh. “Should she be doing that?” he asked the driver.
“Yeah, I think we’re going to have to walk.” He jumped down and turned to give Liam a hand, but he handled it on his own. “Are you really Hot HVAC Guy?”
“Yeah. Look, I’ll fucking autograph a fifty-dollar bill and hand it to you as a tip if you’ll keep this to yourself.”
The kid looked from Liam toward the direction the horse had disappeared and back to Liam. “I’m going to have to explain the horse.”
“Not the horse, man. All references to runaway brides and HVAC anything. That part.”
“Okay. I guess.” He nodded in the direction of Claire, who was by then several yards in front of them. “I’m real sorry, sir. I’ll make sure you get a full refund.”
“Keep it.” Liam knew what it was like to get by as a small business. Besides, dubious decision of permanently attached bells aside, the stable hadn’t done anything wrong. Liam and Claire both had had to sign waivers before getting on the sled, and in doing so had agreed to accept fates much worse. “You promised an unforgettable afternoon,” Liam said, trying to sound reassuring because the kid looked like he might cry, “and we got one.”
In more ways than one.
Because he’d just outed her in the one place she could still be herself.
Worse, Runaway Bride and Hot HVAC Guy had just become a thing.
A match made in media hell.
It could be nothing less.