Page 200 of Santa Daddies
Did he care? Nope.
He kept his arms crossed over his chest and tried his best to keep the pain from showing on his face. He’d had a lot of practice pretending that he wasn’t hurting.
“Huh? Who are you?” she asked, peering up at him.
“That’s what I asked you,” he reminded her. “You’re on my property, checking under my house, so who are you?”
“Your property? Your house?” she asked.
“Yep.”
A strange noise came from her. Was that her teeth chattering?
For fuck’s sake.
There wasn’t much light out here, but he could see that she was shivering.
What was she thinking? Why was she here?
“I thought . . . I thought this w-was my c-cabin,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.
She seemed small. Then again, everyone seemed small to him. At six-foot-five and weighing close to two hundred and sixty pounds, he was used to towering over people.
“Oh no,” she said. “Is this not two-oh-eight?”
He grunted. He should have known she was searching for Caldwell’s cabin. “Nope, that’s about five miles up the mountain from here. Should only take you another twenty minutes in this weather.”
“Five miles?” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Oh God, I barely made it here. I guess it’s closer than going back down to the town, though, right?”
Shit.
Just let her go. She’s not your problem.
Should he warn her that the road got worse from here on up? And that Caldwell needed to update his driveway? That it was steep and would likely be slippery as fuck?
“Right. I, um, I’m so s-sorry for intruding. You should go back inside where it’s warm. Again, really sorry. I’ll just l-leave.”
She stumbled over to her car and tried to open the door. The handle seemed to slip out of her hand and he heard her muttering to herself.
Fuck.
He really, really wanted to just let her go and return to his evening.
His quiet evening. Where he didn’t have to deal with people. But what if she had an accident driving up to Caldwell’s place? That asshole probably hadn’t even lit the fire for her. Or left a light on. If she made it, she’d been freezing by the time she got there.
He didn’t want to feel this responsibility toward her. This worry.
Anson didn’t want to care about anyone else.
But he knew that if she died or had an accident it would be on him.
At least make the offer. If she says no then your conscience is clear.
And hopefully she said no.
“Snow’s coming down harder,” he said gruffly. “You used to driving in the snow?”
She paused and glanced back at him. “I’m not used to driving at all.”
