She was wiping down the puddles on the floor by the door when Tate came into the house, worried that the water would damage the flooring.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was low and reverberated with what sounded like anger.
“I’m cleaning up the water on the floor. My stuff was soaked.”
“Leave it.”
Lara finished the job quickly and rose, but flinched at her sore thigh.
“You hurt yourself?” His voice turned to gentle concern.
“I’m okay. I hit a tree with the resort’s snowmobile, though. I broke one of the skis. I’m sorry.” She walked toward the laundry room to dump the towel.
“I said leave it.” He took the towel from her hand, led her to the couch in the living room and motioned for her to sit. “I’ll have somebody go out and get the snowmobile when the weather clears. It’s no big deal.”
She sat and sighed as the weight of her body was taken off her leg, allowing her thigh muscle to finally relax.
Tate went to dump the towel in the laundry room after he switched on the gas fireplace, returning in a few minutes with cups of hot chocolate and a blanket. He wrapped the blanket around her body and handed her one of the steaming mugs before he dropped onto the other end of the sofa.
“Would you mind telling me what in the hell possessed you to stay out when you knew a storm was on its way, and then to leave the damn snowmobile trail on top of that? Colorado blizzards are no joke. I talked to Chloe. She said she warned you that a storm was coming,” Tate grumbled. His gray eyes surveyed her cautiously as he took a slug from his own cup.
“I-I got…lost,” she lied unhappily. She didn’t exactly want to deceive the man who had gone out in such a vicious storm to retrieve her, but she had no choice. “Was Chloe worried? Did she send you after me?”
He nodded and gave her an annoyed expression.
“I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do.”
He nodded again, his gaze sharp and assessing.
Great. Now he thinks I’m an idiot, a dumb blonde who isn’t smart enough to get out of an incoming blizzard. I honestly can’t blame him for thinking what he’s thinking right now. But I don’t like it.
Strangely, she actually cared what Tate thought about her now. He’d risked his own life to come out and save her. He was irritated, and rightfully so. She kind of found herself missing his usual dimpled grin and cocky attitude. Right now, he looked dark and intense, more serious than she’d ever seen him, and that fierce expression made her squirm.
“Why did you do it? What were you really looking for, Lara? You left the trail, and I don’t buy that you were totally lost.” He locked eyes with her; his probing look drilled into her soul.
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to say to him.
I don’t want to lie to him.
A small yip saved her from having to say anything as the cutest little German Shepard puppy Lara had ever seen scampered into the room, and prevented the need for her to speak.
She smiled as the tiny creature stopped at Tate’s feet and wriggled around in excitement. Lara watched as he picked up the tiny canine with a gentleness that made her heart skip a beat. “Who is that?”
Tate scratched the pup’s body. “This is Shep.”
“Not a very unique name, Colter,” she chided softly. “Is he yours?”
“He wasn’t exactly planned,” Tate grumbled, but he continued to scratch the puppy’s quivering body. “Somebody dumped him on the highway. Probably a Christmas gift that somebody decided they didn’t want chewing on their furniture. Chloe talked me into keeping him.” Tate shrugged. “Hell, I figured I could take better care of him than his previous owners.”
He obviously took very good care of the little ball of fur, and it was apparent to Lara that Tate already loved the pup, no matter how much he grumbled about adopting the little dog. “He looks like he’s barely old enough to be weaned,” she observed thoughtfully.
“Chloe says he’s about ten to twelve weeks.”
Lara took the puppy in her lap as Shep tumbled off Tate’s thighs and crawled eagerly toward her. “He’s adorable.” She cuddled the pup against her breast and stroked over the silky fur as the dog licked her jaw. “How can anybody be so cruel? He could have frozen to death. He’s too little and doesn’t have the reserves to survive outside for long.”
“He almost did freeze. He was pretty cold when I picked him up. I’m glad Chloe was around to take care of him. Getting hit by a car was fairly likely, too. The highway is pretty busy in the winter with ski traffic,” Tate replied.
It was pretty hard not to like a guy who rescued puppies—and women—in distress. Tate might not be happy with her right now, but he’d saved her anyway. Lara looked up and smiled at him, and he grinned back as Shep sank his little teeth into her sweater and started to tug. She laughed merrily and disentangled the black and tan ball of fur from her garment. “He likes to chew.”
“He’ll be a handful,” Tate agreed, not sounding the least bit daunted.
“He reminds me so much of Chief when he was a puppy. I got him for my tenth birthday. He was a Shepard, too, and his markings were similar. Chief was my constant companion for years.” Lara sighed. Damn. Even now, she still missed her canine companion.
“What happened to him?” Tate asked curiously.
Shep leaped to try to investigate what was in her mug, and Lara laughed at his antics, suddenly remembering how much fun a puppy could be. “No chocolate for you, pup. It’s not good for you.” She held the half-empty mug higher. She looked at Tate and answered hesitantly. “I had to give him away. My parents died when I was sixteen. I had to move in with my aunt, and my uncle hated dogs.” She stroked the puppy on her lap as she finished her hot chocolate and set the mug gently on a coaster on the coffee table. Her uncle had hated everything and everyone, including his wife.
“Jesus, Lara. Both of your parents died at the same time? What happened?”
Now, even a little more than thirteen years after that horrendous day, Lara had a hard time talking about her parents’ death. “They were murdered.”
“Tell me. How?” Tate’s voice was tender and compassionate.
Lara met his eyes as she cuddled Shep for comfort. “They both died on September 11, 2001.” Instinctively, she knew that Tate would make the connection and she wouldn’t have to say anything more.