Where You Least Expect (10 page)

“Damnit, stop arguing with me!”

“You gonna make me drop and give you twenty if I don’t?” she couldn’t help but say, a giggle following her words despite the seriousness of the situation.

The death glare he threw at her pierced the darkness and hit her full force, and she stifled the laugh, though she still smiled.

“I have the Thinsulate lining, which will be plenty if I don’t have to stand out here all night arguing with you. Now put on the goddamned coat, Verna. And make sure you pull the hood tight. There are gloves in the pocket,” he said, tossing the coat at her.

“Sir, yes, sir,” she said automatically as she caught it.

He practically growled, and she made haste to put the coat on, making extra sure to tighten the hood. It was huge on her, which shouldn’t have been surprising since it had to fit Joe and Joe was freakin’ enormous. But still, she’d always worried about clothes, coats included, being too small, so this was a novel experience. As was pulling on the gloves from the pocket. They were made out of thin material, but her hands were immediately warmed when she pulled them on, and she was again surprised that they were extra roomy, had space to fit her wide hands and long fingers with room left over. She tried to ignore that little tingle in her belly at being encased in Joe’s shoes, wrapped in his coat, basically surrounded by him. But, much as she wished otherwise, knowing that she was wearing his things, touching where he’d touched, warmed her blood, warmed her almost as much as the coffee and the clothing.

And thank goodness it was dark and she was wrapped up tight. She knew from the tingling pull at her breasts that her nipples were diamond hard, and were it not for the thick coat, Joe would have known it as well. But now was not the time for that, and she was too flattered that he’d gone to all this trouble for her to be distracted.

“Look, Joe, I’m the Abominable Snowman.
Rawr
,” she said.

He smiled and let out a grudging laugh.

“Let’s go, silly woman,” he said, and they set off toward home.

Chapter Eight

Joe set a moderate pace for the journey back. He could have gone faster, much, much faster, but he wanted to make sure Verna could keep up. And, somewhat impressively, she did for the most part. About halfway through the trip, she lost her footing and went sliding, arms flailing with the effort to keep herself upright. He grabbed her around the waist to steady her, and once she’d regained her footing, she looked over at him before quickly looking away, the fleeting glance that he’d gotten of her face revealing her embarrassment.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “You went all this way to help me, the least I could do is not crush you. I make no promises, but I’ll yell ‘timber’ and try to fall left next time.” She let out an embarrassed-sounding laugh and then they crunched away in silence.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he said a few moments later.

“I’m clumsy, have been forever,” she said distractedly.

“Not that, Verna. You put yourself down all the time.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “I simply have an objective perspective of who I am, something most people don’t, and I’m brave enough to acknowledge my shortcomings, something most people can’t do,” she continued, her voice ringing with conviction.

“Objective? Not by a mile.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, glancing over at him quickly before turning her eyes back to the road.

“Well, let’s look at what just happened ‘objectively,’ to borrow your word: You were walking over ice in shoes that are too big, and you slipped on said ice. An objective person would say, ‘Gee, it seems likely that a person walking on ice in shoes that are too big might be likely to slip.’ But not you. No, you take a simple mishap, something that was almost an inevitability, and turn it into a reflection of personal failing. That’s not objective.”

“Bullshit,” she said.

“How so?”

“For starters, you haven’t slipped, not even once. You could be on a fuckin’ frolic right now.”

“I’m a well-oiled machine forged in the fire of battle. Mortals slip; I do not.”

“Oh God, I just threw up in my mouth,” she said around mock gagging noises.

They laughed for a moment. “But we aren’t talking about me.”

“Okay, so I’ll grant you that in these conditions it’s possible that we mere mortals could slip. The thing that sets me apart is that I always slip. Rain, shine, sleet, or snow. If it is possible to do something stupid, buffoonish, or embarrassing, I will do it. I can try my hardest, but it doesn’t matter. If it can be fucked up, Verna Love will fuck it up.”

“You just did it again. And, more to the point, I’ve known you how long?”

“Too long!” they said in unison, her again looking over at him with a smile on her face.

“See, I’m predictable too,” she said.

“You just did it again. I’ve known you for a pretty good amount of time now, and you don’t seem particularly disastrous to me.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No,” he said.

“This walk isn’t long enough for me to count the ways, but trust me, I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you more than enough. You might have been too distracted to notice, but it’s happened. And I fuckin’ promise on everything I love that I will kill you where you stand if you bring up my birthday or that other thing.”

“Why do you swear so much?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“It’s a sign of a simple mind. I mostly just stick to the words I know, and I didn’t make it too far past the four-letter variety.”

“Verna, you just put yourself down again.”

“See, told you I’m a fuckup.”

“And again,” he said, glancing over at her.

“I’m stubborn too. A great thing to mix with stupid.”

“Verna, stop it,” he said and she went quiet.

“Maybe one day I’ll get it right,” she said wistfully after a few more steps.

He didn’t respond, didn’t really know how to. Verna thought she was objective, but she really had no clue, and if this walk had shown him anything, it was that the pit of pain inside her ran deep, deeper than he’d ever thought, even after her birthday confession. He’d run into her parents several times at the restaurant, knew her father was a jerk but still thought they seemed nice enough, but he couldn’t fathom why they hadn’t noticed that their daughter carried a well of self-hate inside of her deep enough to drown in. Why hadn’t he noticed it?

And why did he care?

••••

They trudged along in silence the rest of the way, and as they finally approached their street, Joe could see that the cold and exertion were getting to her. The entire block was dark, and as they got closer to their houses, he decided she was staying with him. She likely didn’t have electricity either, which meant no heat and no hot water, two things she needed a lot of.

“Verna, you’re staying with me tonight,” he said as he turned down his driveway, taking her hand to help her maneuver over the thick ice.

That she didn’t protest either his help or his statement only underscored how tired she must be. When they got to the porch, he kicked the excess ice and snow off his boots and she did the same, and soon they were inside the toasty-warm house. He removed his gloves and then hers, taking Verna’s hands in his. They were cold, especially her fingertips, so he held first one hand and then the other between his palms, rubbing them vigorously. Satisfied with their temperature, he unzipped his coat and pulled it and the hood off her.

Her hair was slightly damp and matted on one side, and her cheeks were deep red, almost maroon with the cold. For some reason, he found her adorable.

“Okay, boots and socks off now and then you’ll get out of those wet clothes. You can take a hot shower to warm up, and I’ll loan you something to wear.”

She mumbled something, then bent and started to remove the boots, her motions jerky and uncoordinated.

“Here, let me help,” Joe said as he knelt in front of her and began unlacing the laces on the boots.

When she teetered, he placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can lean on me, Verna,” he said, though he didn’t look up.

“Thanks, Joe. For everything,” she said.

He nodded. “You know where to find the guest bathroom?”

His house and hers were quite similar inside, so she should have been familiar with the layout.

“Yes,” she said.

“You’ll find everything you need in there,” he said.

She trudged up the stairs, her movements still not coordinated, and once he heard her reach the bathroom, he started the process of trying to get warm himself.

••••

Verna stood under the showerhead, basking in the hot water as it flowed over her. She’d tried to be stoic during the difficult walk, but at some point she’d become convinced that they’d never make it and she’d never be warm again. Only looking at Joe, walking like he was on a fuckin’ Sunday afternoon stroll, had kept her going. Well, she didn’t necessarily want to die of exposure, so that had also helped, but seeing him walking with such ease, looking like he could start whistling at any moment, had pushed her. Her sheer patheticness had been sealed with him long ago, but if nothing else, she had pride, and she wouldn’t give it up without a fight.

Of course now her legs burned with the exertion, and would probably be screaming with pain tomorrow, but the aches were minor and well worth the price if they kept her from showing herself as more of a loser than she already had.

“Verna?” Joe called, and she jumped.

“I’m too tired to yell, Joe, but if you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said around a laugh, though the steam that filled the room and the rush of the water muffled his voice, “I won’t scare you anymore, but you shouldn’t be so skittish anyway. I left some clothes on the counter.”

Then he closed the door, and when she heard the
click
, it occurred to her that Joe had just been in the bathroom with her, while she was naked. That this fact both thrilled and terrified her was something she wasn’t up to examining at the moment, so she finished her shower, sad that there wouldn’t be time to wash her hair—it’d be poor form to hog the hot water he was so graciously sharing—and got out. There was still a faint chill in her bones, but it started to fade and she dried off and then repaired her hair as best she could.

Which left dressing as her last item of business.

Her bra and underwear were soaking wet; it gave her a chill to even think about them against her skin. And besides, she thought it a little…unsavory to put on dirty underwear after a shower.

I’ll just have to go commando.

She laughed at the silly thought and then examined the clothes Joe had left for her. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt with some kind of military insignia. Not fashionable, not that such a thing was a concern for her. She pulled the shirt on and then the pants, rolling the cuffs over once. The slight chill in the hardwood floor made her curl her toes against the cold, and then she stepped out of the bathroom.

And right into the solid wall of Joe’s chest.

On instinct, she gripped his rigid biceps, her hands tightening at the sensation of his sculpted flesh beneath her palms. She inhaled sharply, his scent, the warmth rolling off his body making her want to draw closer to him. It was a ridiculous notion, but she found it hard to ignore. Her gaze flicked up to his, and she inhaled again, the sizzling heat she saw there making her heart stutter and setting off a flutter in her stomach.

They stood still and silent, but when he lowered his head toward her, the movement slight but unmistakable, she sighed and stretched up, her lips meeting his in a kiss. The first swipe of his lips against hers was soft, seeking, but on an exhaled sigh, he increased the pressure of his mouth against hers and intensified the kiss.

A shiver stole through her at the feel of his lips against hers, simultaneously rough and seeking and gentle and coaxing. The mix of sensations left her off balance and from the little sound that was the combination of a moan and a growl that emerged from Joe’s throat as his lips held hers, he felt the same. But that was probably for the best. A moment of insight might make him realize what he was doing, or, God forbid, make him stop, and she didn’t know if she’d survive if he didn’t keep touching her.

Joe slid his hands down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before settling on her hips. The weight of his palms against her hips was startlingly intimate; it was a lover’s caress, one she wanted more of. So she took it, moving her own hands down his arms and lightly resting them on top of his, pressing just slightly, hoping that he’d read her desire.

She’d often teased Joe about his mental acuity, but he proved himself a genius in the next moment when he pulled hard, slamming her hips into his at the same time as he speared his tongue between her lips. The feel of his hips against hers, the hardness of his cock pressing against her belly as his tongue, strong and commanding, explored the cavern of her mouth, was too much. And not enough. A part of her wanted to pull back, put space between them so that she could think. Another part had thrown thought to the wind and only wanted to
feel
.