EMILY
AS WE WALK OUT of Mary's "cottage," the view takes my breath away.
The mountains are fading into indigo, snow glittering in the last remnants of pinkish winter sunlight. It's gorgeous but freezing. Our breath comes out in white puffs.
Garrett is clearly unbothered by the cold, not even wearing a jacket. His broad shoulders are squared, blue eyes gleaming in the sunset.
That gleam is the only warning I get before I'm pressed back against the cold metal of his truck.
Then all the breath is knocked out of me as his mouth claims mine.
The chill of the metal at my back is nothing compared to the solid wall of heat that is Garrett's body against me.
His hand fists in my sweatshirt to keep me pinned. My arms lift without thought, twining around his neck, dragging him closer. I open to him, my lips parting under the fierce demand of his mouth. His tongue slides against mine without preamble. He tastes of mint and hints of a piney kind of smoke.
