Page 37 of Winters Heat

This was a memory to keep. A memory to store for dark days when he needed hope and belief to survive. He was smart enough to know once in a lifetime when it smacked him across the face.

Winters eyed the oversized fuel and food signs passing on the highway. “Coffee?”

“No.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nope.”

Daybreak turned into harsh afternoon glare, bearing down at him through the windshield. Hours passed in the trashed-up car, and other than a sideways glance, Mia had all but disconnected herself from him like he was a plague-infected pariah. He was ready to pop red smoke and call in for an extraction team.What the fuck did I do wrong?

She was distracted, disengaged, and detached. More focused on the passing scenery and overhead road signs than any amicable gesture he lobbed at her. He could’ve sung show tunes a cappella, and she wouldn’t have noticed.

Shit. He didn’t know the first thing about the morning after. And, as by evidence of her withdrawal from him, he didn’t always ace everything he tried. So much for thinking he was a stud.

What did it matter if the woman didn’t live for his every thought? So what if she wasn’t hungry? For food or for him. What did he even want from her anyway? Doe-eyed looks or good morning, let’s-go-again kisses? Well, he got none of those. Just a curt good morning, and a very matter of fact re-dressing in her dirty, torn clothes. He chuckled. She did a hell of a job piecing her shirt back together. If she hadn’t been so formal, teetering around like a proper marm, he might have told her so.

“Are you going to tell me what I did that was so wrong?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, hating that he even asked.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Yet, here we are. One-syllable answers and the silent treatment. You don’t seem like the type to play games, Mia.” He paused, waiting for any sign of life. “I’m glad to see the glacial attitude has returned.”

Sarcasm wasn’t helpful, but screw it. He exited the highway. The last chance for fast food would be a passing memory in seconds.

“I’m not. Look, Colby…never mind. Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired.” She shrugged and dug at her fingernail like her life depended on it.

“I call bullshit, but you can fess up to me later or tell me why you’re ignoring me. Either way, you’ll tell me.”

She didn’t say anything. Her hands were crossed in her lap, and if he didn’t know any better, she was a tight squeeze away from white-knuckled.

Winters let her ignore him. It gave him time to plan his afternoon with Titan. They had a shit ton to hash out, starting with the NOC list and ending with Mia’s sweet ass no longer in the line of danger.

He barreled down the familiar roads, tapping the steering wheel. Her safety was paramount, and there was nothing they could do to protect her without engaging the enemy. They needed to cut the head off the beast, not deal with the pansy teams that kept up their mediocre attacks.

He cleared his throat. “You’ve got about five seconds, Mia, to fess up. Three. Two. One. All right, we’ll talk later.”

The car slowed, and they pulled up to a brick fenced property with a wrought iron gate. Old, thick trees lined the property, and a green canopy was draped over the driveway. It was nice to be home, but even better that she was there with him. Though that struck him as odd since she hadn’t strung a sentence together with more than three words in it since she fell asleep in his arms the night before.

“When you said home, did you meanestate?” Mia’s jaw hung open.

“The good guy business pays well. I like my privacy, and it’s safe.”

“I can tell.” Her jaw still gaped.

It would’ve been a lie if he denied the masculine pride coursing through him at her reaction. She was impressed and, for the first time when it came to a woman, he cared.

“You can make yourself comfortable while I meet with the team for a while. I promise you, there’s nowhere safer. And my mom will whip up a mean meal. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes. The works. You can meet Clara.” He snuck a glance at Mia.Open up a little, would you?He shook his head. Now, he sounded like a whiny teenage girl. Awesome. “Are you overwhelmed yet?”

“No. Not overwhelmed. Just do what you need to do so I can get back to my life. Please.”

He shook his head again. Her life would never be the same for the simple fact that she’d been kidnapped, and she saw violence firsthand. She was a psychologist. She should know that. That stuff messed with minds. He lived through it all the time, and it was a heavy, dark burden.

“I’ll get it figured out.”

Winters rolled up to the front of the white colonial house. His mom opened the door with a baby on her hip, waving the young child’s arm. She was mouthing hellos for Clara toward the car, but the baby looked more interested in tearing her silver-haired bun out of place.

He caught Mia cringing, and her hands ran the length of her thighs. “Oh God, Colby. This is a bad idea. Horrible. I don’t even have shoes on. What is your mother going to think? I’ve worn these clothes for days. I can’t let her see me like this. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

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