Page 28 of Ripper's Redemption

Aggie huffs, rushing right behind her again and the two of us crack up. “I can’t believe that just happened,” Tara laughs.

Licking my lips, I brush a stray hair behind her ear. “Yeah, maybe we should finish this up later.”

Tara snickers, “Yeah, maybe we should.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tara

The tires crunch through the snow as we navigate the winding road to Whitefish.

Ripper offered to drive and I totally wasn’t about to deny him the absolute pleasure.

Growing up in Wyoming, I’ve driven in my fair share of snow, but if I can get out of it I will.

The landscape here is a winter wonderland, white powder blanketing the pines and mountain peaks in the distance.

I can’t help but feel a spark of awe at nature’s beauty, even if driving in it gives me the worst anxiety in the world.

When I was a little girl, I was in a really bad car accident with my mom. We almost didn’t make it out alive.

I think the trauma of it all is the reason she left, but I know my father said she was being negligent and careless.

He didn’t explain why he said that when I was a child, but when I became an adult, he admitted she was an alcoholic.

I had no idea, and I mean no idea. She hid it so well.

“Look at that,” I say, pointing out the window. “It’s like a Christmas card.”

“Yeah,” Ripper grunts, eyes fixed on the road.

He’s always so focused, so intense. But there’s something softer about him today.

Maybe it’s the way his fingers occasionally take a break from the shifter and graze my inner thigh.

I sink back into my seat, letting the heater’s warmth seep into my bones.

The cabin isn’t far now, and we should be there within the hour.

Thank God for that—the tension between us is almost unbearable, electric.

His presence is a comfort and a curse, pulling me in with every glance.

I could have easily came here alone, but I’m glad I didn’t. Hell, I’m glad he offered to come with me.

Being by myself would have been nice and all, but I think after a day I would have been a little bit lonely.

“Snow makes everything look clean,” I muse aloud, watching the flakes dance past the windshield. “Like a fresh start.”

“Clean slate,” he agrees, though his tone implies he’s thinking of things much dirtier.

A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips, and I find myself smiling despite us driving in the snow.

“Think the snow will set us back, or will we arrive right on time?” I ask, more to fill the silence than anything else.

“Oh yeah, this little snowstorm isn’t gonna stop me. You better get ready for some peace and quiet,” he replies, a rare softness edging his words.

“Peace and quiet sounds so good. Things have been nuts at Tart lately. Zane asked me to add eight things to the menu and I’m scrambling trying to figure out what to do.” I say, glancing over at him.

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