garage door opener, but there was a key
to the service door on the ring Alex had
given me.
Fuck, it was cold. I’d have to get
used to Michigan winters again. I never
slept in clothes, but before I got into bed
I put on some pajama pants (part of a set
my mother gave me our last Christmas
together) and a T-shirt. I got under the
covers and stretched out on my back,
hands behind my head, staring at the
ceiling above me.
I could still smell her, and it made
my cock start to stiffen.
She’s up there right now.
Was she
asleep? Was she warm enough? On
nights like this, with the snow coming
down and icy wind whistling at the
windows, was she ever tempted to break
her rule and sleep with someone? Was
she ever lonely? She was so different
from any woman I’d ever been with. So
many contradictions.
During sex, or when she wanted it,
she was so fucking hot—the way she
moved and talked and responded drove
me crazy…she was liquid and molten
one moment, fiery and explosive the
next. But when it was over, that was it.
She cooled off quicker than anyone I’d
ever known. Let me be clear, I’d
never
had a woman tell me she wouldn’t spend
the night after I’d asked her to—
ever
—
let alone make it sound like going out
with me was akin to torture, somewhere
between a full body wax and a root
canal.
I wasn’t sure which side of her made
me want her more, the fire or the ice.
The fire made our physical connection
sizzle, but that ice made her more of a
challenge, and it made me more anxious
to get closer to her…not to break her,
exactly, but maybe melt her a little. Get
her to open up.
If it were anyone else, I might think
she was just playing hard to get with her
“rules,” but I didn’t think that of her. I
mean, I thought the rules were bullshit
and the whole Love Doesn’t Exist thing
was just a defense mechanism as well as
a pre-emptive strike, but somehow I felt
she guarded herself that closely, kept
herself that distant, for a reason. She
said it wasn’t her family history, but then
what? Had she had her heart broken in
college? Or more recently?
There’s no
way it could be the thing with me,
right?
I wanted to talk to her some more
about it, but dammit, I’d promised her
we didn’t have to talk about
feelings
.
What the fuck was the world coming
to when a guy finally wanted to talk
about feelings with a woman and she
said no?
And why on earth had I bet her I
could make her believe in love? What
the hell was I going to do or say or show
her to convince her it was real? I wasn’t
even sure I could recognize it in myself,
let alone other people.
I lay there for what felt like hours,
imagining her right above me, wishing
she were curled up beside me, and
wondering where the crack in her armor
would be.
Her heart was in there somewhere—
she’d given me little tastes of its
sweetness in between all the teasing and
rule-stating—like the chewy, gooey
center in a hard candy lollipop.
I grinned.
Maybe I just had to lick my way to it.
TWELVE
JAIME
MY ALARM WENT off at six-thirty,
and I groaned as I shut it off. Burying
myself again beneath the covers, I
whimpered about going outside in the
frigid dark to shovel the driveway. Came
up with a dozen reasons to just say
fuck
work
and go back to sleep. Told myself
that no reasonable person was getting to
her office on time this morning.
But in the end, I dragged myself out
of bed. When something needed to get
done, I wasn’t one to put it off.
Unless it was writing a toast to give
at my brother’s wedding. Then I was an
expert at it. Just thinking about standing
in front of two hundred people and
talking about love and commitment made
my eyelid twitch.
Relax. You still have a couple
months.
Moving slowly, I pulled on thick
socks, jeans and a sweater. Tugged on
my ski pants, heaviest coat, a hat, scarf,
and mittens. Finally, I stepped into my
winter boots, laced them up a little
tighter, and clomped down the stairs and
out the side door to face the music. I
hadn’t even looked out the window yet
because I didn’t want to get too
discouraged.
So I was shocked when I opened the
door and saw that the job was nearly
done. Done! As in someone had
shoveled almost the entire driveway
already! Perking up immediately, I heard
a shovel scrape the cement and looked
toward the street, where a figure in a
puffy dark coat, wool hat, and gloves
was banking snow on the berm.
Was it Quinn? It had to be, unless it
was Alex, but I couldn’t see Alex getting
up at five just to come out here and dig
out his sister who should have called the
snow removal guys last night but was
too busy fucking his friend.
I pulled the door shut behind me and
walked down the driveway. The air was
so cold it froze the insides of my nostrils
as soon as I inhaled. Snow flurries fell
softly, dusting the freshly cleared
driveway.
“Hey,” I called, my breath creating a
silvery puff in the dark, icy air.
He turned around, and I saw the blue
eyes right away. His smile hit me in the
gut—so hard I nearly stumbled.
I didn’t like it.
What the hell was he doing? He
wasn’t even parked in the garage, so he
had to be shoveling for me. I appreciated
the gesture, but this smelled like a
boyfriend move. Was he fucking with
me?
“Hey,” he said back.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m clearing the driveway for you.”
“Why?” I tried not to sound
suspicious, but I think it came out that
way, because he rolled his eyes.
“Because it seemed like a nice thing
to do, and there wasn’t a No Shoveling
rule last night. But come to think of it, I
have
heard there is a high correlation
between shoveling a woman’s driveway
and getting her pregnant, so would you
like me to put it all back?”
Feeling foolish, I slapped him on the
arm with my mitten-clad hand. “Sorry. I
am, in fact, grateful, so thank you
very
much. I was dreading this.”
“It is pretty cold,” he admitted, going
back to work.
“Can I help?”
“Nah, I’m just about done.”
“How about some coffee? I could go
make some.”
“Actually, I’m heading to the gym in
a few. My class was canceled for
today.”
Jesus. Only Quinn would voluntarily
go work out on a morning like this.
Especially after shoveling all that snow!
I looked at his SUV, which was a
mound of white. “Can I at least brush off
your car?”
“No, thanks. I’ll get it.”
Shivering, I wrapped my arms
around my chest. “You have to let me do
something nice for you.”
He glanced at me. “What did you
have in mind?”
“Blowjob?”
He grinned. “You’re relentless,
although that would warm me up nicely.”
Me too
, I thought, hopping from one
foot to the other to keep my toes from
going numb.
Maybe we could even do it
in a hot shower. I could—
“How about a drink after work?”
I stopped moving and gaped at him.
“You’re turning down a blowjob for a
drink?”
“Can’t I have both?” He stuck the
shovel in the snowbank and gave me an
imploring look. “It’s
really
nippy out
here.”
I sighed, too cold to argue with him.
“I suppose. Why don’t we—oh wait. I’m
supposed to meet my friends for dinner.
It’s Claire’s birthday.”
“What do you know, I happen to be
free for dinner tonight,” he said
delightedly.
“Really. How fortuitous.”
“I agree, and I will gladly accept
your invitation to join you.”
I cocked my head. “I’m not sure I
offered one.”
“Well, it’s fucking ten below out
here, Jaime. I can’t stand around waiting
for you to be polite. I’ll die of
hypothermia.”
I groaned. “OK, OK. Fine. You can
have dinner with us.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“I’ll meet you here at seven,” I said,
backing up the driveway.
“Where are we going?”
“Antietam. It’s nice but not crazy
formal.”
“I promise to look presentable and
be ready on time.” He clapped his
leather-gloved hands together. “This is
so exciting, Jaims! Our first date!”
Oh, God.
I hurried into the house,
wondering what the hell I’d just gotten
myself into.
THAT AFTERNOON, I called Margot
to make sure it was OK that I was
bringing Quinn.
“Hello?”
“Hi. I have a problem with tonight.”
“Oh no, you can’t come? Lindsay
had to cancel because she has the flu, so
it’s just you, me, Claire, and Elyse.”
“No, I can come, it’s just—I’ll have
someone with me.”
“You will? Who?”
I spoke through my teeth. “Quinn
Rusek.”
Silence.
Then laughter.
“It’s not funny. He totally invited
himself and I had to say yes.”
“Why? Are you still trying to get him
to bang you?”
“No, we did it already.”
“What? When?”
“Yesterday.”
“How’d you make that happen?”
“Uh, it’s a long story.” One I didn’t
necessarily want to share.
“So how was it?”
I kept my voice down, since I had a
cubicle, not an office. “Amazing. Fun.
Mind-blowing. So mind-blowing I
agreed to go out with him three times.”
She laughed again. “That’s specific.”
“Well, he kept making me promise
more things in the heat of the moment,” I
complained, getting up from my desk. I’d
take the rest of this call in the stairwell.
“And I was in a weakened condition. He
took advantage of me.”
“What do you mean? Were you drunk
or something?”
“Not exactly.” I pushed open the
stairwell door and waited for it to shut
behind me. “Just…really, really turned
on. He seriously does something to me. I
don’t know what it is. Well, I know
partly. His face alone melts my panties,
but once I saw the body, I was lost. And
he’s
really
good.” I’d caught myself
staring into space ten times already
today, reliving yesterday’s sexcapades in
my head. My undies had been damp
since 9 a.m.
“Damn. You’re a mess over this
guy.”
“I’m not a mess over him. I’m simply
—” I rolled my shoulders, trying to
relax, unclench my insides. “I simply
enjoy his company in very specific
ways. And those ways don’t involve
dinner dates. That said, he’s coming with
me to dinner tonight.”
“Well, I think it’s nice he wants to do
something other than bang. It’s normal.
And healthy. And maybe you’ll actually
enjoy the dates!”
“I don’t want to enjoy the dates,
Margot. Are you crazy?”
“Why not?”
I slapped a hand to my forehead.
“Why not? Have I not explained this to
you guys like a thousand times?
Closeness kills the spark. I never end up
having good sex with guys I date.”
“That’s because you don’t want to.”
“What? Why wouldn’t I want to have
good sex?”
“Because you don’t want to have
reasons to continue a relationship. Meh
sex gives you a reason to get out. And
great sex gives you a reason to avoid
getting in.”
“That is not true,” I said. But my
eyelid began to twitch. “Look, I was a
psych major. I get it. Do I fear intimacy?
Maybe. But it’s fine, because I don’t
want it, OK? I fear giant lizards too, but
that’s also fine because I don’t want a
Komodo Dragon for a pet.”
“Do you know how ridiculous you
sound? You’re the only woman I know
who wouldn’t be thrilled about this.”
“I can’t help the way I am.”
She sighed. “Do you want me to see
if Tripp can come? I originally told him
it was girls only, but if you want another
guy at the table, I can ask him.”
I wrinkled my nose. Tripp was short
for triplet—not that Margot’s boyfriend
was a multiple. But he was the third
Percival Dodge Jewett in his family, so
they went with Tripp for a nickname,
since his grandfather had claimed Percy,
and his father was called (not kidding)
Deuce. Personally, I thought he looked
more like a Percival than a Tripp, and