Sunday Sneek Peek at Winter Gifts

Sunday Sneek Peek at Winter Gifts

Brice let rip a swear word that had her looking up at him with the biggest, darkest eyes he’d ever seen. He swore, again. He wasn’t the kind of man who relished taking care of anyone but himself. He’d stayed single by keeping to the plan of never getting emotionally involved with any woman. Casual sex was the way to go. It meant that a woman never stayed overnight. Here he was, stuck with the one woman in town that he didn’t even particularly like, and he was going to have to take care of her because she was too dumb to take care of herself. Rolling his shoulders, he pulled her hat off and tossed it in the corner. Then he carefully pulled her mittens off her chaffed hands. An indrawn breath told him louder than words that she was in pain.
“Miss Grant? Can you get undressed and turn on the shower by yourself?”
“I d-don’t…” She took a shaky breath and shook her head.
“All right, then.” Brice took a deep breath as he tried to ignore the punch to the gut he experienced when she looked up at him with helplessness in those big brown eyes. He knew the sensation of time standing still and his mind rebelled against it even as his lower body responded to her. It was a case of caveman syndrome. She was a weaker female in need of help, so as a strong alpha male he felt compelled to take her as his responsibility, as his property, really. It was a simple basic human reaction. Nothing more.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sink. His boots came next. Brice stepped closer to her and deftly untied the dripping scarf from around her neck. Her lips were alarmingly purple in the low light of the candle. She looked like a wraith with bloodless lips, pale cheeks, black eyes, and black hair falling out of her braid to frame her face. Did wraiths look breathtakingly beautiful? He shook himself and remained intent on getting her out of her clothes. Her jacket was next. God help him.
Max would have smiled if she could have felt her face. Brice Vanzetti, the powerful, arrogant chef was having difficulty unzipping her jacket. He cursed under his breath and a small giggle built and spilled out of her mouth. He looked up at her and she tilted her head to stare at him with what she hoped was a sincere look. “S-sorry.”
“Find this funny, do you? You could be going into hypothermia and I can’t get this damn zipper down.” He yanked hard and her jacket opened with a metallic protest. The toggle on her zipper flew across the room, clanking as it landed on the tiled floor. “Finally. Relax your arms.”
“You broke my j-jacket. Ouch.” She winced as the material slid off her hands. Her arm muscles screamed as he tugged the jacket off them. It landed on the floor in the corner along with her scarf. She felt humbled as Brice knelt down on his knee in front of her and picked up her boot. He seemed to be an efficient man. There wasn’t any movement that was wasted, no energy used that didn’t count. Her boots hit the floor and he placed them next to the door. Her heart sped up as Brice looked up at her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow at her pink-and-white-striped fuzzy socks.
“Cute, but they don’t go with the outfit.”

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