Page 7 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

“Fuck. Well, this is fucking great.”

I wince at the harsh language, and offer hesitantly, “Look, if you want to get somewhere, I can drop you off.”

The wintery look he threw my way withered my insides. For a man this sinfully hot, he sure knew how to commit murder with his eyes.

He looks at his phone, and I pray that he would refuse my offer and just get an Uber, but he scowls at his phone, “The battery’s dead. Drop me off ten blocks at Westminster Street.”

The authoritative tone in his voice made me grind my teeth, but since I had just wrecked his car, I really wasn’t in a position to say anything.

“Of course,” I mutter, and I watch him as he looks at my car with open disdain.

“You want me to sit in that death trap?” He says, making my blood boil.

“Look, you want to get to where you have to go, or not?” I snap at him.

He gives me a look, which I force myself to ignore. I wasn’t going to let this asshole treat me like one of his underlings.

And I especially wasn’t going to let him insult Gertha.

Not my baby.

I open the door for him, and gesture for him to get inside.

He studies me for a moment, before grabbing something from his car and getting into mine.

I slam the door shut behind him.

Chapter 3

“Your heating isn’t working,” He informs me in a snobbish tone, making me clench my hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I’m aware.”

“Why do you even have this thing?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him run a hand over the dashboard, and amidst the growing irritation, I feel a sense of pride when he couldn’t find a single speck of dust.

“This model is obsolete,” He comments, and raises a brow at me when I mutter something under my breath. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

My jaw is taut, “Nothing.”

For a moment, I think I see a smirk on his face but when I blink, it’s gone. My eyes narrow as I study him from the rear-view mirror.

I can still see the annoyance simmering underneath his surface, but he hides it well under his thinly veiled disdain for Gertha. I force my mind away from his shitty personality.

He looks rich.

Well, anybody driving that kind of a car was probably rolling in dough.

He is very attractive though. His hair is dark and thick, curling at the base of his neck. Those silky strands would make any woman want to bury her hands in it. They look soft, and I can bet they smell great.

I sniff derisively.

When he looks at me, with a brow arched, I try for a severe look that would not betray my train of thoughts.

His face is chiselled as if by the angels themselves. I can see the defined jaw, the planes of his face, the arch of his nose, and I bite my tongue. Bitterly, I think, he can afford to be an asshole with his money and good looks.

“Is something bothering you?” Those gray eyes are looking directly at me and I can’t help but be distracted by the contrast of them with their darker, well-shaped eyebrows.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I tell him, irritated at myself for being even mildly attracted to this rude, overbearing man.

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