Trouble on Tap (21 page)
God knew exactly how long she’d been lying in wait for him, but it was enough time for her button nose to turn red and her glasses to frost over. His gaze slid to the right. The temperature gage read twenty–six.
A smarter man would have shut the door and walked away, let her deal with the consequences of spending time in the Sweet Salvation Brewery’s cooler without a coat. But no one—from his asshole of a father to his always–hungry–for–more agent to his on–set teachers—had ever accused him of having an overabundance of brains.
Instead, he whipped off his thick hoodie and pulled it over her head. Not bothering to get her arms through the sleeves, he wrapped her up— clipboard and all—inside its fleece warmth. The hood drooped over her head, covering everything down to her nose. Before she could squeak out a noise over the chattering of her teeth, he wrapped an arm around her narrow waist and tossed her over one shoulder like a sack of grain. Her cold seeped into him, pouring over his body and making him shiver.
“P–p–put me down.” She made a halfhearted attempt to wriggle free.
“No.” He spun around and kicked the cooler door shut with his boot heel.
“This is unseemly.”
Her body may be half a degree away from being a snow cone, but holding her like this had him running a few degrees warmer. “Yep.”
“You can’t just carry me around like this,” Natalie huffed against his lower back. “I’m your boss.”
“I can and you are.” But he was bound to forget that last part if she kept squirming against him. Hell, he couldn’t seem to remember that fact while he was alone at night staring at his bedroom ceiling and imagining how those damn little buttons would open under his touch.
Table of Contents