Page 13 of Snowed In with Three Mountain Men

He turns his back again when he’s done, and clears his throat slightly. I wonder if the same images coursed through his mind too, even as he tried to rid himself of them—or maybe he’s been with so many women since then that he can hardly even remember what we had in the first place. Yeah, I can see that for him. Dumping me because he was more interested in playing the field, going out into the world to make sure he could land all the pussy he wanted without a girlfriend to hold him back…

I try to ignore the jealousy that wants to get the better of me as I slip out of the dress and hurry into his clothes, tossing them on as swiftly as I can. I don’t want him to catch me thinking toohard about our past. It’s just a distraction from the real trouble here, James, and I need to keep my focus…

Even if the scent of his skin still clinging to these clothes is enough to fill my head with memories that I’ve worked so hard to forget.

I turn back to him.

“Okay, done,” I snap, my voice a little sharper than I intended it to be. He moves to face me again, and as soon as his eyes lock onto mine, something seems to shift in his gaze.

“What happened, Charli?” he asks me softly. I feel a lump leap into my throat. I guess I owe him some kind of explanation, if I’m to believe that all of this is nothing more than a coincidence—though I’m still not totally certain I believe it.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it fucking does,” he shoots back, and I plant myself down on the edge of the bed. To my surprise, he moves in beside me, leaving a few inches between us—but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, a comfort I didn’t know I’d missed as much as I did until that moment.

“We found you in a crashed car by the side of the road in a wedding dress,” he points out. “And I don’t know exactly what happened to bring you to this point, but I think we deserve to know.”

“Why?” I fire back. “You chose to walk out of my life. You forfeited the right to know my business a long time ago.”

He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about what happened in the past. This is about what’s going on now. I want to help you, Charli, but I can’t if you?—”

“You should tell your damn brothers that. Seems like they can’t wait to get rid of me.”

“That’s just Dax,” he replies, waving his hand. “And you can’t exactly blame him, given you came out here all guns blazing, acting like we were in on some conspiracy against you?—”

“And I still don’t believe that you’re not,” I remind him.

“Who the hell are you running from?” he presses. “If you think that I would work with the kind of person who would hurt you?”

He sounds stung. But it’s not as though he’s got any leg to stand on, not after the way he treated me before.

“You talk a big game about not hurting me for someone who?—”

“I’m not talking about that,” he replies, his voice sharp. “I’m talking about here. Now. We need to know what’s going on with you. Why were you in that car?—”

“Fuck—the car!” I exclaim. It hits me for the first time that I left that car sitting by the side of the road—I don’t know exactly who I stole it from, but chances are James already knows what kind of vehicle he’s looking for. As he sends his scouts out on every road that leads away from the wedding venue to catch up with me, surely he’s going to see it sitting there, and he’s going to figure out that I must be somewhere nearby.

“What about it?” Callum asks, sounding confused.

“I need to—I need to get out there,” I reply, leaping to my feet.

“I already told you, you’re not going out in that cold, not in your condition,” he replies firmly. “What do you need? Something from the car? I can get it?—”

“No, I need to get that car off the side of the road before he sees it!”

The words burst past my lips before I can stop them. I can feel him staring at me, and I hate that I’ve given so much away. I can’t even look at him, as he asks the question that I know is the natural follow-up.

“Who’she, Charli?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I shoot back. “I just need to move that car. Please, let me?—”

“We can move it for you, if you’re worried about it.”

I stare up at him for a moment. I’m not sure I believe him. But as he meets my gaze steadily, I’m not sure that I’m in much of a place to argue. After all, I’m injured, it’s snowing out, and it’s not as though I can go out there and heft that car from where it’s stuck by myself.

I hate to admit it, but perhaps I need to accept a little help here. They have already shown that they’re willing to keep me alive—maybe I need to accept that this is nothing more than a coincidence, and let them do what needs to be done.

“You can?”

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