Chapter Ten
Sam watched as May’s face scrunched into a scowl at the mention of coffee. She turned and shot a glare of pure spite at the dead coffeemaker. Probably there was something very wrong with him that the look made his cock twitch.
“Dyadya expects me to be here,” she said, her voice almost a growl, which only interested his dick more. “What if he comes back and finds me gone?”
Sam shrugged. He had her now, he knew. It was just a matter of letting her pride find a way to give in. “So write a note.”
Her eyes slid away for a second. “I doubt he’ll be very long. I won’t freeze waiting for him.”
“It’s fifteen below, last I looked,” he said with a hard smile. God, did she argue with everyone like this or just him? “Without heat, this cabin’ll get very cold very fast. George has never upgraded the insulation and the windows are single-paned. I’m giving you fifteen minutes and then I’m just putting you over my shoulder.”
He was kind of hoping that she’d resist some more.
She huffed. “Fine. Just let me get dressed.”
He allowed his eyes to trail down her blanketed form to her small, reddened toes flexing on the worn linoleum floor. She’d painted her toenails black. They were awful cute. “Sure. Fifteen minutes.”
When he looked up he caught it: the slight softening of her shoulders, the heat in her dark eyes, a tiny tremble to the fingers clutching the blanket. May wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and they both knew it.
In the next moment she blinked and it was gone. She shot a glower over her shoulder for good measure before marching out of the kitchen, back straight, slim shoulders level. The red blanket swished behind her. She stopped by the couch and the blanket slid away from one thigh.
“Do you mind?”
He glanced up to find her glaring over her shoulder at him. Probably best to let her think she was still in charge.
Sam shrugged and turned his back to the open doorway. George’s kitchen was tiny. The tin cabinets were white enameled, the counters so old they were edged in chrome, tiny green squiggles wriggling over the lighter green background. The coffeemaker stood forlornly in a corner and the walls were bare, not even a calendar to add a touch of decoration.
Behind him, May cursed softly and something rustled.
He shifted, his shoulders bunching as he fought the urge to look.
More rustling.
This shouldn’t be turning him on.
“Okay.”
He pivoted at the word to see May, dressed and with her parka and beret on, the handle of her black suitcase clutched in one hand, the smaller case in the other.
She rolled her eyes and stomped to the door. “You know you can just drop me off at the motel.”
“Filled up yesterday,” he lied without remorse.
She shot him a suspicious look. “Maybe someone checked out today.”
“Doubt it.” He gave her a friendly smile as he opened the door. “Roads are pretty much shut down.”
“Then how’re we going to get to your cabin?”
“Same way I got here.” He nodded at his red Chevy extended-cab Silverado. It was outfitted with a power snow blade across the front.
“Of course you have a snow plow on your truck,” she said, as if it were an outlandish toy instead of damn near a necessity in a Minnesota winter.
“Comes in handy,” he replied, grabbing her suitcase out of her hand before she could try to haul it into the truck by herself.
Her eyes widened at his movement and she clutched the remaining case to her chest.
He snorted. Damn woman couldn’t even let him load her suitcase without a fuss.
A shovel-wide path had been cleared through the snow to the drive, probably by George. Sam led the way down the front walk, ignoring the muttering behind him. He put the suitcase behind the driver’s seat and climbed in, leaning over to unlock the passenger door. Any other woman he’d’ve offered to help into the high seat, but May needed to think this was all her idea when she got into his truck.
He started the engine to get the heat going but waited as she settled herself and buckled in, the smaller, square case on her lap. Then he glanced over his shoulder and backed from the drive. “You left a note?”
“I said I would,” she muttered like a little kid.
“Good.” He put the truck in drive and lowered the plow blade, rumbling down the road. She was soft and warm and here beside him, and he was beginning to think that if he just kept her by his side they could work this out. “Got any idea where George might’ve gone?”
She didn’t answer at once, and for a moment he thought she might’ve not heard him. Then he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw she had her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
She seemed to notice his gaze at the same time, letting go of her lip. “No. I have no idea why he took off.”
He nodded, tapping a forefinger against the steering wheel. She was probably lying. Disappointing, sure, but he didn’t take it too personal. May was the kind of secretive woman who lied as a matter of habit.
Which kind of made sense if her uncle really was hiding from the Russian mob.
But she hadn’t seemed to recognize Kasyanov yesterday. Sam frowned, stopping carefully at the stop sign before 52. He lifted the blade and then turned onto the highway.
It was deserted.
Had May known Kasyanov and hidden it from him—or was Kasyanov’s arrival accidental?
“You know, I’ve never seen anyone else visit Old George.”
She stiffened at that comment, as though he’d poked into something private instead of making an offhand observation. The woman’s fences were built in odd, unexpected places.
He kept his eyes on the road this time, not wanting to spook her. “So, I dunno. Are you his only relative?”
“No.”
He waited.
She blew out an exasperated breath. “There’s my mom. You know that.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” he said quietly. “You’ve never talked about your family before.”
She shrugged. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just my mom and me and Dyadya.”
“She’s his sister?”
“Niece.” May wrinkled her nose. “My grandmother was Dyadya’s sister. She died before I was born, though. Back in Russia.”
She darted a suspicious look at him as if she’d said too much. Truth was, she’d never mentioned her Russian heritage, even though Old George had a strong enough accent Sam’d have to be an idiot not to guess. Not to mention the tattoos.
He didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted.
“Uh-huh.” He signaled and turned into the back lane that led to his cabin. “Your mom lives in Minnesota?”
“Yes. In Saint Paul.”
A real bit of information. He carefully kept himself from smiling. “How come she doesn’t come up to see George?”
She sighed, rubbing a hand against the black jeans she wore. He remembered that glimpse of pink panty he’s seen when she’d first opened the door to the cabin, the smooth, soft length of thigh. He’d never seen her in anything but black. Even that night her lingerie had been black. Was her bra pink as well? Was she even wearing a bra?
He reached over to turn down the heat.
“They don’t really get along,” May said. “Mama argues with him when they get together. Then Dyadya gets sarcastic, she gets weepy, and it kind of goes downhill from there.”
He nodded. “And he never goes to visit her, does he? He never travels at all.”
She blinked and straightened and he knew at once that he’d made an error.
“Why’re you asking so many questions about my uncle?”
“Because he’s your uncle, May. Because I’m interested in you. Everything about you.”
Her eyes widened. What? This was news to her? “You shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah.” He snorted, looking back at the road. “That’s what everyone tells me.”
He expected a sharp reply. A slice from that blade she called a tongue. But her side of the truck remained quiet.
“So…” He took a deep breath. “You seeing anyone?”
“What?” He wasn’t looking, but he felt her whiplash turn toward him. “No! Why would you think—?”
“You’ve never said.”
There was a moment of silence. Then: “I haven’t seen anybody since last August.”
“Good.” Something in his chest loosened. He chanced a glance at her. She was scowling, biting her lip like a little girl. “Before that?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s been a while. There was a guy in college. We saw each other for a bit after we both graduated, but then he moved to Washington for a job.”
“State or D.C.?”
“State.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “What can that possibly matter?”
“Everything,” he said quietly. “I said I wanted to know everything about you and I meant everything.”
He could feel her staring at him. “Why? What have I ever done to attract you, Sam?”
“Breathe,” he said, and it was true. “First time I saw you, simmering because I’d pulled you over for speeding, I wanted you. Then you began telling me all the ways I was wrong and how I ought to do my job.” He shrugged. “I wanted to grab you and kiss you and make all those clever arguments completely fly out of your mind.”
“That’s…” He glanced over to see her face had reddened with a blush. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, it kind of is, isn’t it?” He signaled and turned into his lane. “But it’s the truth. And I gotta tell you, it’s only got worse since.”
“So if I stop arguing with you, you’ll stop chasing me, right?” Was that a touch of sadness in her voice?
“Hate to disappoint you,” he drawled, “but no. You stop arguing and we’ll finally be able to get going.”
Sam turned into his drive, bumping down the winding stretch to his lake cabin. He pulled to a stop and switched off the truck.
He looked at her, the scrunch of his parka on the seat loud in the silence. She was staring straight ahead, a little thoughtful wrinkle between her brows. “Here we are.”