Page 67 of Hold Me Today

“I’m not that much of a jerk, Ermione.”

“Says the man who insulted my pom-poms.”

Grimacing, I open my mouth and promptly dig my grave: “They look like something my grandmother would wear.” At her furrowed brow, I hastily add, “Notthat there’s anything wrong with that. They’re . . .”

“Stylish.”

“Right. Stylish.” One curt nod that’s so formal I might as well just salute her and snap my heels together like a cadet. I don’t do either, and preemptively I keep my hands in my coat pockets before I can dig myself any deeper into dangerous territory. I do, however, give her my most charming smile before asking, “Do they come in men’s sizes?”

Whatever she’s got on her mind must be troubling her pretty bad; she doesn’t laugh at my joke, though her expression does soften, and when she sidesteps me, it’s with a squeeze of my forearm. I curse my coat for blocking the heat of her gloved hand on my skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she tells me, already heading down the walkway to the sidewalk. “And I’m still going on that walk.”

Stubborn. She’s so damn stubborn and it makes me want to drive her to distraction some other way, with my mouth molding over hers until the only comebacks I hear are those sexy whimpers of hers.

“Mina, stop a sec.”

Unexpectedly, she does, swiveling on the heels of her snow boots and crossing her arms over her chest. It’s herget on with itstance, and I’m not interested in doing her bidding. So, I study her without reservation, taking in her tight jeans and the sliver of skin peeking out between the hem of her shirt and her waistband. I glance up at the wild, curly hair, tamed by only the hat pulled down to her ears—I haven’t seen her hair natural like this since we were kids, long before she discovered the merits of a blow-dryer. I like it better this way, how it frames her face and hints at her rebel soul. Aside from the towering street lamp behind her, it’s pitch-black outside. But there’s enough ambient light for me to catch the fleeting expression on her face.

And what I see there twists my gut.

Restlessness.

It widens her gaze and tugs her full mouth into a straight, uncompromising line. Her brows, always her most expressive feature—the woman does love a taunting brow raise—are furrowed, the crease between them rooted deep.

Something’s wrong.

Tilting my chin in the direction of where I parked, I rock onto the backs of my heels and force my voice to sound completely blasé. “How about a car ride instead?”

She casts a quick glance over her shoulder, deliberating on the offer, and I hear her speak before she’s even turned back around. “I need to move, Nick.”

Shit, the apartment.

Ambling toward her, I rub my hand against the outside of my thigh, trying to warm up. Boston in February is seriously no joke, and this winter seems chillier than most years. “I know you’re wantin’ to head back home,” I tell her, deliberately pausing a foot away. Getting close but nottooclose, in case she needs space. “Vince and me, we’ve got you covered.” I don’t tell her that I brought in one of my temp guys to get the job done faster. Between overhauling the salon and taking care of my other clients, including the Victorian-museum demo, my hands are beyond full. They’re straight-up overflowing. “You’ll be back in by next week, at the latest.”

“No, it’s not that. I—” With a quick shake of her head and a single, furtive glance at my face, she blows out a hard breath. It’s so cold that her breath immediately vaporizes. Damn. If she thinks I’m letting her walk in this weather—alone—she’s out of her goddamn mind. The only thing she’ll gain from wandering around tonight is frostbite. If she wants to “move,” whatever the hell that means, then she’s got a new partner-in-crime tonight.Me.

“In the car,” I husk out, staring down at her upturned face. Fuck, I want to kiss her. Again. Until we either work this insane chemistry out of our systems or we . . .What?Date, for real this time? I squash the thought before it sprouts and takes roots like an unwanted weed. “You look like you’re ready to jump out of your skin, and I’m all for hashing it out with the heat blasting in our faces.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

With a hand to the lush curve of her hip, I gently push her toward the car. “Then make me understand.”

She must get the hint that I’m not budging on this, because she squares her shoulders and cuts around the hood of the car to wait by the passenger’s side door. “No company van tonight?”

“Off the clock.” I push the unlock button on the key fob, then motion for her to jump in. “The joys of making my own hours—though you may have heard about my needy-as-hell client. A recent acquisition for Stamos Restoration.”

I slide into the driver’s seat in time to hear her wry, “Needy, huh?”

“The neediest,” I tell her after the heat’s blasting hot air in our faces and my fingers have thawed. “She’s got me working all hours of the day, kissin’ her smart mouth when I should be focusing on the job . . .”

Mina huffs out a quiet laugh. “She sounds like a piece of work.”

“More like trouble for my peace of mind.”

Silence invades her side of the car. She reaches forward and twists the heat knob to the left, then plants her right hand on the dashboard. Her left arm she loops around the back of the headrest. “Nick, are youflirtingwith me?”

I match her stance, wrapping my right arm around the driver’s headrest. My left elbow sits atop the steering wheel. Then, like I’m discussing the dreary weather outside, I drawl, “You got a problem with that?”

---