Page 8 of Snowed In With the Mountain Man
JJ leaned back in his seat beside her, his long legs thrust out in front of him with his dark, worn boots crossed at the ankles. He had his head tipped back slightly, and without the baseball caps or cowboy hats he typically wore, his shaggy dark hair curled over the collar of his winter coat.
Her hands twitched as she eyed him, and for one moment of insanity, she had an image of reaching out to touch that hair. To see how it felt and to tease him about how many years it’d been since he’d gotten it cut.
She turned away abruptly.
“Sorry ’bout your flight.” His voice was a low rumble beside her. “But two hours ain’t so bad.”
She scoffed as she looked around the small airport. “It is when you’re in a hurry to get home. And you’re stuck in the middle of literally nowhere. There’s not even a bookstore around here.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to chat with me.”
She turned to find him smiling at her. That smile…
How did he do that? How did he manage to look all gruff and masculine, yet so friendly and at ease at the same time?
Her withering glare, which usually made people squirm, had zero effect on him. If anything, it only made his smile bigger.
“You don’t have to stay.” She shuffled in her seat, crossing her legs so she was angled away from him.
“I don’t mind.”
Why did he always stare at her like this? Like she was so very entertaining. She’d nearly terrified the airline employee—not intentionally, but still, she’d seen the woman’s pinched expression. And even her own sister got all wary around her when she was tense.
So why on earth did this guy stare at her like she was being funny or…orcute?
“Yeah, well…”I mind.That was what she meant to say, but another glance in his direction had her swallowing the words.
He’d been nice enough to drive her all this way, and if he left and her flight was canceled, he likely knew he’d have to turn right back around.
She sank back in her seat with a sigh. “I hate waiting.”
His chuckle was a low, gravelly rumble. “You don’t say.”
Her lips twitched at his dry tone. She found herself fidgeting again, her gaze darting between the screen that announced delays and cancellations and the phone in her lap, which was unusually quiet.
Of course, itwasa Sunday, and even her bosses respected her right to have Sundays off.
“What are you itching to get back to?” he asked.
“Work,” she said. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he repeated in that same dry tone. His lips quirked up again, and his eyes…oh heck, they freakin’ sparkled. With the beard and his build, and the fact that he voluntarily spent his days riding a range and doing all the manly things, he shouldn’t have sparkling eyes. And he certainly shouldn’t have such a nice smile. Even through the beard she could see a hint of dimples as his eyes crinkled.
“Did I say something funny?” Ugh. She sounded like a shrew, but she couldn’t help it. She was on edge, couldn’t he see that? This was so not the time to be teasing her.
“No, ma’am.” He was obviously fighting a grin. “You didn’t say anything funny.”
The way he stressed “say” had her narrowing her eyes. “Am I acting funny, then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
A sound escaped her that was annoyingly like a harrumph.
His grin widened.
“You didn’tnotsay it either.” She rolled her eyes.
“Are you always such a stickler with words?”
