struck by a blast of bone-chilling cold. “Eli Garrett,” she sputtered, “are you crazy? Get in here before you freeze to death!”
Mercifully, he shut the engine down. Lord, that thing was loud enough to qualify as a menace.
Eli dismounted, dropped the keys to his gas-powered chariot into the pocket of his coat and came toward her, that insufferable grin still in place.
“What are you doing here?” Brynne demanded, as soon as they were both inside and the door was closed.
Dripping melting snow, Eli tugged off his gloves, shoved them into another pocket, then removed his coat. Hung it from one of a dozen pegs alongside the door.
“I was under the impression a man could get a cup of coffee here,” he answered, in his own good time. “Was I wrong?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Brynne said, more flustered than angry. She was flashing back to her youth again, only this time not to school closures and sledding parties. No, this time, she went back to high school, when she’d worn Eli’s senior class ring on a cord around her neck. When she’d believed, with all her naive young heart, that someday she would marry Eli Garrett and have his children.
Instead, he’d chosen Reba Shannon.
She was still furious with him. Still hurt.
“Aren’t you supposed to be out patrolling the roads or something?” she asked, going to the coffeepot and pouring a cup of regular.
Eli took his coffee black.
He came in often enough, always with J.P. and Cord, for her to remember.
“I can be reached if I’m needed,” he said, holding up his phone before setting it on the counter, beside the mug she’d practically slapped down in front of him.
“Good,” Brynne said, snappishly, because nothing else came to her.
“How is it that you’re already pissed off at me? I just came through the door about five seconds ago, and I haven’t had time to put my foot in my mouth.”
Brynne sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be abrupt.”
“Okay,” Eli said mildly. “Thanks for that, anyway.”
“Eli, what are you doing here?”
“Drinking coffee?”
“You never come in for coffee. Not without Cord or J.P.” She paused. Maybe she’d jumped the gun, pointing out their absence. They might be on their way to Bailey’s right now, riding snowmobiles of their own.
Eli took a pensive sip from his cup. Then he grinned at her and said, “Cut me a break here, Brynne. I’m trying to be—sociable.”
Brynne didn’t know what to say to that.
So she poured herself a cup of coffee and stayed where she was to sip it, keeping the counter between them. In that moment, she sorely wished some of her regulars would show up: the sweet old codgers who always ordered the Rancher’s Breakfast; the members of the Silver Streaks book club; or even Roy, from over at the post office, who could nurse a single cup of coffee and a slice of pie for the better part of an hour and always tipped one bright, shiny quarter.
No one came.
“Do you want breakfast?”
“Nope,” Eli replied.
Brynne was flummoxed again, at a complete loss, which made her feel foolish, which, in turn, made her about half-mad.
“Well,” she said.
Eli looked her over, though not in a rude way. He might have been assessing the state of a fence post, deciding whether to shore it up or cut it into chunks for firewood.
“Put on something warm. Snow boots, good gloves if you have them.”
“Why would I do that?” Brynne countered, all too aware that her heart was beating faster than it should have been.
“Because we’re going snowmobiling,” Eli answered blithely. “You and me.”
The thought thrilled Brynne; she realized she was hungry for fresh air and countryside. It never even occurred to her to refuse that blunt, offhanded arrogant invitation.
CHAPTER FOUR
BRYNNE HADN’T RIDDEN a snowmobile in years, and she’d never ridden one seated behind Eli Garrett, with her thighs pressing into his and her arms clasped tightly around his middle.
The streets of Painted Pony Creek were practically deserted, though folks smiled and waved from windows and doorways, looking as pleased as if they knew some benevolent mischief were afoot, and they were part of it.
Brynne waved back, when she dared let go of Eli long enough to make the gesture, but mostly she didn’t dare, because she was breathless, delightfully, deliciously terrified, certain that the roaring machine racing over the snow would suddenly pitch and roll, sending both its riders flying.
Overhead, the sky was winter blue and cloudless, and the sunlight sprinkled diamonds over rooftops and yards