Page 10 of Wren's Winter

On the porch, my fist hovered over the door. Should I knock? Was it too early? He had already gotten my car out of the ditch, so he was obviously up at one point, but maybe he went back to bed? Before I lost my nerve, I knocked twice, stepping back and wrapping my arms around my body.

I heard the soft sound of footsteps and a high-pitched clicking noise.

Adrian opened the door, wearing a dark-blue Henley and gray sweatpants. My eyes darted to the front of his pants briefly before snapping to his face. Was that a shadow, or was he packing down there?

“I…” I was rarely at a loss for words, but damn if this man didn’t look better in the daylight.

Something that resembled a dirty brown mop launched itself at my knees, little dark eyes staring up at me and pink tongue lolling out to the side.

“Maizie, stop it.” Adrian grabbed the dog—that’s what that thing must have been—and picked it up to cradle in his arms.

The dog watched me, her little paws resting on Adrian’s muscular chest. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and I glimpsed a swath of his collarbone. How could a collarbone be sexy? I had been reading too many Regency romances if an exposed neck was doing things for me.

“Sorry, we don’t get company often, and she loves new people.”

“That’s okay.” I reached forward and gave the dog a scratch behind her ear. She rewarded me with a lick of my hand.

“She likes you.”

“I like her. Maizie, you said?” Moving from her ear to her chin, I realized I was closer to him now.

“Maizie, the lazy girl. A tourist I brought back to my old apartment left her behind but took all my silverware.”

Tourist. He said it casually, as if he had tourists in his home—in his bed, more likely—all the time. “Wow, sorry.” The admission surprised me.

“We’re better for it. Maizie here is worth more than a bunch of old spoons.”

Clearing my throat, I motioned to my car behind me. “Thank you. I’m assuming you’re responsible for the emancipation of my car.”

“Luckily, you left your keys in. I stuck it in neutral.”

“Oh, right. Oops.” Warmth colored my cheeks as I added forgotten keys to the list of foolish things I had accomplished in the twelve hours since meeting this man. “Anyway, that was really kind.”

He swallowed, his eyes glancing from the car to my face. “It’s not a big deal. Only took a few minutes.”

Stepping closer, I slapped a hand on my chest. “No, but it is. I called the towing company, and they were quoting me three hundred dollars to come up here. I do not have that kind of money.”

“Who does?” He gave me a small smirk. It was barely a smile, but something in my stomach did flip at the sight.

I fought against answering my stupid ex does. Instead, I motioned to the car. “I don’t know how you did it without me hearing it.”

“I use a winch.”

“A wench?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “Like old-timey barmaids from pirate romances?”

His words slow, he blinked a few times. “No. I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

“You know, bar wench—‘Bring me some ale, wench!’” I mimicked doing a motion similar to a drunken pirate cheering with a tankard.

“Definitely not.” His face was serious, but I saw a glimmer of humor in his eyes as if he were trying to hold back a laugh.

As if my face could get any hotter from embarrassment.

“Regardless, I’d like to thank you. I have to go into town to get some groceries. Could I buy you lunch?”

He motioned me in. Once we got inside, I saw his hair wasn’t as dark as I thought, more of a warm golden than brown. But his eyes were still an intense shade of blue green.

Once, as a child, I was dock fishing with my dad when a storm rolled through, bringing black-gray clouds and biting wind. We could see the rain was coming toward us, darkening everything. It was a few minutes of torrential downpour on top of us and then the rain let up. The clouds parted, and the sea below was a squall of blue green.

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