Page 3 of My Reluctant Valentine

Ella

I was going to kill my brother.

He could have warned me that Cole Sutton was sex on legs. Would it have killed him to mention that his military buddy looked like a romance novel cover model come to life? “Don’t worry, Ella,” he’d said. “I’ve got a friend who can drive you around Hope Peak. Real professional guy.”

Professional. Right. Professional men did not make my knees weak with one growly word. They didn’t have biceps that flexed distractingly when they lifted your bags like they weighed nothing. When they caught you like you weighed nothing.

And they definitely did not look at you like they wanted to devour you whole while simultaneously wrapping you in bubble wrap.

I snuck a glance at him as he navigated through Hope Peak’s snowy streets. His profile was all sharp angles and masculine beauty, jaw dusted with dark stubble. A small scar cut through his left eyebrow, while a longer, more wicked looking one left a jagged streak down his left cheek. And his hands... Lord help me, his hands on the steering wheel were a religious experience. They were huge, scarred from combat, capable-looking in a way that made my imagination run wild. What would they feel like on me?

The good girl side of me instantly made herself known.Stop objectifying the nice man who’s just doing his job, Ella.

My bad girl side started whispering all the naughty things he could teach us.

Nothing about my medical training had prepared me for the way Cole Sutton made me feel. Sure, I could name every muscle group currently on display beneath his military style vest and shirt—trapezius, deltoids, pectorals. But knowing the anatomical terms didn’t stop me from wanting to conduct a very hands-on examination.

I pressed my thighs together in the passenger seat, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in my belly. This was ridiculous. I was a professional. A doctor. I’d seen plenty of attractive male bodies during my residency. But none of them had made me want to climb into their lap and grind against them like a stripper on spring break.

His hands flexed on the steering wheel, and my mind immediately cataloged the tendons and muscles in motion. Those hands could span my entire waist. Earlier, when he caught me, I’d felt the strength in them. I bet they’d feel incredible sliding up my—

“You’re staring.” His deep voice made me jump guiltily.

“I’m observing,” I countered, trying to sound professional rather than hormonal. “It’s what doctors do.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “And what’s your diagnosis?”

That you’re criminally attractive and I’m going to embarrass myself repeatedly over the next few weeks.

“That you’re...” I searched for a safe word. “Intense.”

He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a growl. Both possibilities did funny things to my insides. “I get that a lot.”

“I bet you do.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I mean... because of the whole...” Again, I waved myhand vaguely at his everything. It was code for broad shoulders, rugged features, thick thighs… package in between those thick thighs… “Security thing.”

Smooth, Ella. Real smooth.

His lips twitched. “The whole security thing?”

“You know what I mean,” I huffed, removing my knit scarf. I was suddenly very, very hot. “The scary capable vibe. Very professional and... scary. In a good way. A professional, scary good way.” I closed my eyes in mortification. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

His laugh was rich and dark, like expensive chocolate. “Don’t. You’re fascinating when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered. I’m just...”Attracted to you. Terrified of traveling on snowy roads. Worried about living up to everyone’s expectations.“Cold.”

His expression shifted instantly to concern. He reached for the climate controls, and I tried not to stare at how his biceps bulged under the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll turn up the heat. You should have said something sooner.”

“The temperature’s fine,” I admitted. “I just... I get nervous. In cars. Since the accident.”

His voice gentled, though his eyes stayed focused on the road. “Jake just said you don’t like driving in the bad weather.”

I turned to look out the window. Strange how the snowy scene beyond didn’t frighten me. I felt as safe with Cole as I did with Jake. Maybe more so. When I didn’t say anything, one of Cole’s hands moved from the wheel like he wanted to reach for me, but he didn’t. The aborted gesture made my heart ache.

“I haven’t driven in winter conditions since. Can’t even ride in cars some days without panicking. Pathetic, right?”

“Nothing pathetic about being human.” His voice had roughened. “We’ve all got our scars.”

I wanted to ask about his. About the physical ones I could see and the emotional ones I sensed beneath his controlled exterior. Instead, I found myself saying, “You make me feel safe.”

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