Kind of like Bliss herself, now that he thought about it.
They didn’t try to talk over the whine of the wind. Leaning forward, they forged through the snowstorm. She huddled closer to him, close enough so he could feel her shivering. That cloak wasn’t nearly enough protection from this level of winter chill. He felt the shape of her through the wool.
Maybe one of those ground rules should have something to do with physical contact. Like, they should avoid it.
When they reached the Infiniti, which was parked at an awkward angle to the curb, he clicked the key fob and they tumbled inside like refugees from a battle. As soon as the doors closed, quiet surrounded them, even though the wind still buffeted the car. Bliss let out a long whoosh of breath.
“Are you okay?” He started the engine, which purred quietly.
Bliss nodded, blinking snow off her eyelashes. “It’s actually kind of exciting.”
He glanced over at her. Her cheeks were bright pink, the wind bringing the blood to the surface of her skin. Her eyes glowed with vivid light. She looked…alive. And stunning. For a moment, his heart seemed to stop beating. Then it resumed its steady thud, just a hair faster than before.
“You must not live in the north,” he said dryly.
“I don’t really live anywhere. I travel so much, I’m hardly ever home.”
“Which is where?”
“New York. We get some snow there, but not like this.”
He didn’t mention that he lived in Boston. It seemed a little too close for comfort. “So you probably don’t mind if I do the driving.”
“Not at all. I hardly ever drive, and I tend to get distracted when I do.”
“Let me guess. Drivers and town cars?”
She shot him a look. “Sometimes. Mostly subways.”
He’d stepped in it again. He really ought to stop jumping to judgments. She was right about that.
He pulled into the street, where at least an inch of new snow had fallen since she’d parked the car. She directed him to the parking spots set aside for the inn.
And then she kept talking, as if the wind had blown away her inhibitions. “My brother Conor used to live in New York, too. That’s why I moved there. I was hoping we’d spend time together, but we hardly ever did. He was always busy, and I travel all the time. Now he lives here, and so does Carly, and that’s probably more than you needed to know about my family.”
He sensed a kind of wistfulness in the way she spoke about her half-siblings. It must be a sensitive topic for her, which made him curious. “Maybe you’ll see them more now that you’re here too.”
He pulled into a spot marked with a quaint “Bittersweet Inn” sign.
“I hope so. But Carly’s incredibly busy getting ready for the wedding. Conor’s probably all wrapped up with his new girlfriend. Anyway, I’m only here for a few days. I guarantee that I’ll see you more than them. Like it or not.”
Her mischievous wink was irresistible. He smiled, then schooled his face back to its usual stern lines.
“Are they both older?”
“Yes. Carly’s seven years older than me, and Conor’s nine. I was the barely there baby.” A smile flickered across her face, then she turned away and peered out the window. The snow lashed against the sides of the Infiniti. “Is it safe to go out there?”
A lot safer than staying inside this car together. She was starting to really appeal to him, despite his better judgment.
“I sure don’t want to spend the night in here. Nothing personal.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Come on. The longer we wait, the harder it will be.” He led the way, opening the door just as a whirling snow devil enveloped the car. He stood his ground, shaking his fist at it with a defiant roar.
Bliss’ head popped up from the passenger side. She laughed at him, and he grinned back, the first wholehearted, no-holds-barred smile he’d allowed himself. It had an effect, he saw, though he couldn’t identify exactly what. Surprise? Delight? Wariness?
He stepped to the trunk and unlocked it. Snowflakes sprinkled her suitcases as if someone was shaking salt onto them. He hauled them out, one by one, giving her the lightest duffel and loading himself up with two hardshell cases and a rolling suitcase.