Page 14 of Enraged

Oh my God.

“Close the door, Lena. It’s fuckin’ freezing.” Grabbing my arm, he pulled me from the doorway and slid the door closed. “Why don’t we get you out of that wedding dress?”

I eyed him curiously.

Excuse me, Lt.?

Exasperated, he shook his head. “Not like that! You’re freezing, the damn train of that thing keeps getting’ caught on everything, it’s about to fuckin’ snow and you need more clothes on than that!” He ran his fingers through his short hair.

He’s so funny when he’s flustered.

“My clothes are in my car,” I admitted.

“And your car is in bum fuck Egypt because someone thought she could hide her car at a location that she was already supposed to be at today and even if she hadn’t been supposed to be here, this is still the number one place anyone would look!”

“You didn’t see my car or know I was here until you were inside,” I pointed out.

“Fair point, but it’s cold as fuck and because I’m a gentleman, I’m about to walk two hundred yards in temperatures that are negative fuck you because you can’t wear that all night.”

I shook my head. “I can go get it. I’m not helpless.” I started walking towards the front door.

Within seconds, he was on my arm, pulling me backwards. “In that dress? With this wind? You’ll get your ass blown down the mountain. I’ll go.”

“The wind isn’t even that bad yet!” I hollered, irritated.

“Ok, I was being nice. What I should have said was ‘In that dress, with this wind, and your clumsiness, and Jack Daniels?”

Picking up a throw pillow from the couch, I threw it at him. He caught it with ease, smiling from ear to ear as he propped it back where it belonged.

“I’ll go, Lena. Seriously, it’s cold.”

Nodding, I conceded.

I didn’t want to walk out there in the dark anyways.

He opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. Before the door could even close behind him, he was walking back in the living room.

“Yeah, fuck that, you can wear something of mine. That wind is a bitch and a half.” He shivered as he spoke. He unzipped his bag, grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and tossed them to me.

Without thinking, I lifted the clothes and inhaled. They smelled of Dak and expensive body wash.

“Are you sniffing my clothes? They’re clean. I keep an extra bag in the truck in case I need a change of clothes while I’m at the station,” he explained.

I blushed, embarrassed. “They smell good. I was trying to figure out if I could tell what laundry detergent you use,” I lied.

“Tide. Now, go change.”

Ummm…

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He looked confused.

I spun around. “There’s about a billion fuckin’ buttons and I can’t undo them by myself.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and he reached for his bottle of Jack. He tossed a few gulps back before nodding at me.

“Ok, let’s see if I can get you out of the dress.”

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