Page 7 of Winter Wish

Jorie grabbed a creamy satin bra and panty set that looked great with the remnants of her summer tan—not because this was a date—but simply because it was on top of the pile in her dresser drawer. She kept up the denial as she slipped the underwear on. Yeah, she wouldn’t believe it either, but that was her story, and she was sticking to it. She nodded decisively.

To make up for that tiny fib, she grabbed thick socks and the worn, flannel-lined jeans she’d found at a thrift store across from the hotel she’d stayed at when stopping for the night in Rapid City on her way to her new life. Nothing date-like about them. Nope, those clothes were chosen purely for warmth and comfort. She couldn’t help it if the jeans molded to her skin, making her skinny ass look more curvaceous than it actually was.

Jorie didn’t even check which sweater she grabbed off the bed before pulling it on. Oh, okay, she did check. It was the burnt orange and turquoise one that came with a matching ponytail cap and fleece-lined mittens. She’d spent way too much money on the set—and then another one for Jolie—just because Felicity at Wintervale’s Country Store had gushed about how the colors made Jorie’s eyes pop when she tried it on.

Rushing back into the bathroom, Jorie took down her hair and shook out the braids. Using the curling iron, she added soft curls to her already wavy strands and gathered her hair into a ponytail, pulling it through the hole in her stocking cap. She swiped on some eyeliner, mascara, and tinted lip balm, then decided that was good enough.

She’d just finished pulling on a warm pair of fashionable winter boots when she heard the rumble of a truck below. Snagging a thinner but thermal jacket that magically reflected body heat, she pulled it on. She checked her cash situation in her crossbody wallet, looped it over her head, grabbed her mittens, and dashed out the door. She tripped down the stairs in her haste to avoid keeping the Curtis brothers waiting—for this not-a-date. Sheesh.

When she hit the cement at the bottom, Aaron laid on the horn. Jorie screamed, clutching her chest. She could hear Aaron laughing like a hyena over the rumble of the engine. Lordy, if this was what having brothers was like, she was happy she didn’t have any. Flipping him the bird, she shot him a stink-eye as she rounded the hood of the truck, making sure he wouldn’t do it again. Once again, she skidded to a stop and nearly fell on her ass.

Good Lord almighty. There was Ezra, stalking toward her—surefooted and silent as a wraith.

Jorie’s mouth went dry as all the moisture in her body ended up in a much more intimate place further south. Her pulse quickened as her brain and body slid straight into the E-zone. There was no passing go. No collecting $200, and not a single prayer of finding a Get Out of Jail Free card in sight. Day-amn.

Peripherally, she noticed a camel-colored shearling coat dangling from one brawny fist, but what really held her attention was the muted plaid flannel stretching across his chest and abs as he twisted, shoving a wallet hooked to a chain into the back pocket of a pair of dark-wash jeans. Jeans that fit him better than latex gloves. Lordy, did she mention the man was fine?

“Uh, hi,” she whispered as he stopped just inches in front of her. Her breath caught when he reached for her…and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he growled, jerking his chin toward the interior.

Oh, shit. Of course. Hello, Mr. Gorgeous, meet Ms. Awkward Twit. Thoroughly embarrassed, Jorie grabbed hold of the truck door and swung it open. The truck was jacked, and there was no step bar to help her up. She latched onto the back seat’s handle. Raising one leg, she hopped on the other foot, trying to jump in. Instead, she nearly launched herself straight through the cab and out the other side when Ezra’s big hand settled on her backside, giving her the lift her shorter legs needed.

Jorie bit back a whimper of pleasure as his palm unleashed a jolt of heat, and she scrambled onto the back seat. She couldn’t, however, stop the moan that slipped from her lips when she felt his fingers slide along the center seam of her jeans, pressing into the crease as his grip tightened on her ass.

Lordy, the man was driving her insane.

Chapter 6

Ezra stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to settle the tab, his gaze fixed on the rest of his group laughing uproariously. Well, more accurately, his gaze was fixed on Jorie. Earlier, he’d steeled himself and left the house determined to lock away the crazy feelings he had for her. But it took all of three seconds to see her dressed up for the evening, and just like that, his good intentions turned to dust.

Fuck, she was something. The desire he saw etched across her expressive face when she noticed him approaching? It made him feel like a man—no, the man. And then, of course, he fucked it all up by turning into a pervert.

That hadn’t been his intention, naturally. He didn’t think most people set out to be perverts, but what did he know? His voicehad come out rougher than he’d wanted, but because of the tightness in his jeans, he’d barked at Jorie to get in the truck.

He realized his mistake when he saw the dilemma on her face as she spun around, literally jumping to obey him. He’d seen it earlier—her willingness to follow orders—and holy hell, that had only made things worse.

He tried to leash his inner caveman, letting the manners his momma had tried to instill in him come to the forefront. He reached out to steady her, but as she hopped on one foot to give herself a boost, his big hand missed her hip entirely and instead landed on one whole cheek of her ass. What little blood he had left in his head traveled south at mock speed, causing a brief lapse in common sense, and the ever-opportunistic devil between his legs took over.

Seemingly with a mind of their own, his fingers caressed the supple seam of her jeans, warmed by her body’s heat. Realizing his fingers were only a couple of millimeters—a mere layer of clothing—away from nirvana, Ezra squeezed, officially leveling up to pervert status. When he heard her soft moan, he’d been ready to follow her into the backseat. The only thing that stopped him was Aaron asking if everything was okay.

“Now that’s a damned fine addition to your shop,” Chip, one of the town’s old-timers, remarked, snapping Ezra out of his deep thoughts as he stared over at the table where Jorie was pulling on her coat.

“Yeah, she’s one hell of a mechanic.” Ezra scribbled his name on the receipt when the bartender finally returned with his debit card.

“That’s not all I hear she’s good at,” the old man chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Ezra frowned. Jorie hadn’t been in Wintervale long, and most of the time her car just sat in their driveway when she wasn’t working. You’d better believe he noticed.

“Well, from what I hear, she’s willing to give a little extra, if you catch my drift,” Chip said, nudging Ezra with his elbow and letting out a sly, hacking laugh. “Let’s just say, the stories about chrome and tailpipes? Yeah, they’ve been verified.” The old coot had the audacity to wink. “Might be time for me to stop doing my own work and bring my ol’ chassis in for a tune-up.”

“Old man,” Ezra growled, his jaw tight. “If you show up at my shop, I’ll toss your gnarly old ass in the junk pile. That’s after I rip off anything sticking out or dangling. And if I hear you running your mouth again, you won’t like what happens next.”

Chip raised his hands, backing away. “I’m just telling it like it was told to me. No need for violence. I meant no harm.”

“Yeah? And who told you that?” Ezra clenched his fists and leaned toward the old-timer.

“J-just some young fella. Handsome, I guess. A little slick, you know? Seemed to know the girl really well, so I figured he knew what he was talking about.” Chip shrugged.

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