Page 9 of Grumpy on the Mountain
Molly's face lights up like I just offered to solve every problem she's ever had. "You'll what?"
"Drive you." I raise an eyebrow. "What? Did all that city noise deaden your hearing?"
"No." She shakes her head, a cute little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "It's just... kind, that's all. My fiancé never offered me anything like that."
The words hit me like a sniper's bullet.
Fiancé.
Not boyfriend. Not ex-boyfriend.
Fiancé.
Riley was engaged to her. My brother… the same brother who used to steal my lunch money and tell our parents I was the one who broke things… was going tomarryMolly Jennings.
The only woman who's ever stopped my heart the way she does.
"Let's go," I mutter, turning toward the door before she can see the truth written all over my face.
Chapter Three
Molly
The wind howls like it's auditioning for a horror movie soundtrack as Beau yanks open the passenger door of his truck.
"Get in," he grunts, snow already coating his broad shoulders like a second layer.
I eye the massive vehicle with what I hope passes for cool confidence rather than complete terror. Seriously. This truck is a beast of steel and power.
The massive tires, caked with mud and ice, stand taller than my knees. The step up is practically at my chest height, and in these ridiculous boots, I'm one wrong move away from a humiliating face-plant.
"Right… get in.Sure. Absolutely," I mutter, grabbing the handle and attempting to haul myself up with something resembling dignity.
My foot slips on the icy running board, and I let out a mortifyingly high-pitched squeak as I start to fall backward.Before I can embrace my inevitable reunion with the cold, hard ground, a warm, solid hand presses against my lower back, steadying me with irritating ease.
"Christ.Be careful," Beau mutters, his breath warm against my ear.
His hand spans practically my entire back, and I'm suddenly, acutely aware of howbighe is. Not just tall, but substantial in a way that makes me feel almost delicate.
I scramble the rest of the way into the seat, my heartbeat doing a salsa rhythm in my chest.
"Thanks. I swear I can usually manage basic human movements like climbing and walking."
His only response is the slamming of my door.
"Fair enough."
Inside, the truck is surprisingly clean. Not showroom clean like Riley's cars were. They always smelled like expensive leather and that pretentious cologne he insisted on spraying everywhere.
But thislived-inclean.
There's a worn comfort to the seats, and it smells like the forest. Not like the artificial pine of those little tree air fresheners, but the real deal. Like Beau has somehow managed to trap the soul of an entire forest inside this fortress on wheels.
Beau appears at the opposite door and yanks it open. He shoves the keys in the ignition and starts the engine.
"Crank the heaters. I'll hook up your car," he says gruffly, disappearing back into the swirling white chaos outside.
I flick the heat dial all the way up and quickly shed my useless coat, laying it over my legs. My sweater is damp from melted snow, and I feel more than see Beau's eyes briefly flick toward me.
