Page 35 of Bracing The Storm

“It’s not you; it’s the cold,” I yell.

“Whatever you say.” He laughs, the irritating noise vibrating through me long after I’m in my bedroom flicking through my wardrobe for something more suitable to wear. Preferably something that hides any signs of my attraction to him. Unfortunately, I didn’t think of packing an astronaut suit so a thick sweater will have to do.

Chapter Eleven

It takes me half an hour to settle on something to wear. By the time I finally head downstairs it’s almost noon. I went through the contents of my entire wardrobe, and settled on a gray, oversized sweater that reaches down to my hips and a pair of skinny jeans. Granted, it screams more tourist than young fashionista from the States but I doubt Patrick will know the difference, what with him showing little fashion sense himself. The only things I’ve seen him wear are jeans and a shirt, but even in those he looks like he belongs on an international runway show.

I sling my handbag over my shoulder, squeeze into a pair of sneakers and dash out the door, almost expecting him to have bolted with the excuse that I kept him waiting for too long.

But, he’s there—already settled behind the wheel of his truck, one arm resting on the ledge of the open window, gaze fixed on a point beyond the windshield. He seems lost in thought, thousands of miles away from here, and only notices my presence when I open the door and jump onto the passenger seat.

“Sorry I took so long.” I don’t know where the apology’s coming from. It just blurts out of me even though it’s the lastthing I want to say to him after the galling comments he’s been dropping since my arrival.

“It’s fine. You probably couldn’t decide what to wear so you went forthatto prove a point. That point being you’re not attracted to me. It didn’t work.” His hot gaze brushes over me; his stunning grin renders me speechless for a moment.

What gave me away this time?

Can he smell my suddenly sweaty palms? Or see the way my knees are wobbling under my weight?

“Like on cue,” I mutter to myself, making a mental note to never ever apologize to this guy again. “Just drive.”

“Where to, princess?”

Seriously, could he be more condescending? He’s trying to rile me up. I can see it from a mile.

The high road, Lori.

I take a deep, calming breath and put on my Zen smile as I decide I’m not going to take the bite and engage in one of his verbal battles. Not when the tingling sensation in my lower abdomen that seems to be present whenever he’s nearby keeps distracting me from putting him in his place.

Patrick doesn’t wait for my reply; he puts the truck into gear and speeds down the driveway. The tires roll on the gravel as he expertly maneuvers us around a bend and downhill, flooring the accelerator in the process.

It’s a short drive to the village, barely a few minutes. I’m only a few seconds in and my back’s already drenched in cold sweat. I don’t want to seem scared but the man drives like a maniac and his scrapyard zombie of a vehicle isn’t exactly boosting my confidence. I squeeze my hands beneath my thighs to clutch at the seat, digging my nails into the crumbling brown leather as I’m thrown back and forth in my seat. Whoever taught him to drive deserves to be locked up. Or maybe Patrick was a lost cause to begin with and his driving instructor took pity on him,figuring he couldn’t do much harm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lush green hills and animals.

Speaking of?—

I narrow my eyes against the glaring sun and crane my neck to get a better look. There’s something in the middle of the narrow road. It looks like a huge, brown blob, blocking more than half of the road, and we’re approaching it fast. Patrick doesn’t seem to feel the need to slow down though the thing is not moving from the spot.

For the life of me, I can’t make out what kind of animal it is and why it’s not moving.

“Is that a—” A woolly mammoth, I want to say, but the word remains lodged in my throat. It can’t be a primeval animal because those have been extinct for nearly four thousand years. And yet that boulder looks just like one.

My heart starts to beat frantically in my chest and panic shoots through me.

The truck’s going to collide with the mammoth. I know who’s going to win, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be us.

“Oh, my gosh! Slow down, slow down! You’re going to kill us!” I yell, briefly imagining pushing him aside to take control of the truck to save us. Or maybe I could just open the door and jump out and leave him to his fate. I mean, heisa crappy driver. People will probably think they all saw it coming.

Patrick suddenly remembers where the brakes are and hits them hard, catapulting me forward against my seatbelt. For a moment, my air supply is cut off and I’m seeing stars. But the truck has come to a halt, inches from the rock of an animal.

My breath comes in ragged heaps. I fight to swallow whole gulps of air as I turn to face him, fuming mad. “What’s wrong with you? You could have killed us!”

Ignoring me, he leans out the window and calls out to the animal in what I can only assume must be Irish. He’s the epitome of calm while my heart stops for a split second.

“Are you crazy? Don’t draw its attention to us,” I whisper. “Stop talking to it! What if it decides to ram us and then eat us alive? Do you not want to live another day?”

To my surprise, the animal turns its head toward us. From up close I can see a pair of soft brown eyes that shimmer with intelligence, and the fear in my chest subsides a little. And then it starts to walk away, slowly but steadily heading down an incline. I stare at it until it’s disappeared behind a large stone formation.

Patrick turns to look at me and a huge grin breaks across his face. “Eat us alive? That gentle thing? Never seen Highland cattle before, have you?”

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