Nevada rolled a heap of snow into a ball. Her smile practically glowed. He’d never seen anyone so happy to play in the snow. It was a wonder the stuff didn’t melt around her. She was like spring, warm and full of life and promise. When she was with him, he couldn’t feel the cold.
They’d had three blissful days of nothing but snow, good food, hot fire, and even hotter sex. He could stay in this lodge forever. He knew they couldn’t, and thinking about going back brought dread. It would be like coming back to a war.
Relax, he told himself. She’s right here, safe and happy. Her family will want to see her on Christmas, and he would have to take her back, but for now they could play in the snow.
He had already bought her present.
The snowball hurled through the air and hit him in the chest.
“Really?”
“Bring it,” she called, her eyes shining.
He raised his hand, shaping the magic around him. A barrage of snowballs broke free from the snowy bank behind him, streaked across the air, and pelted her. He kept the hits gentle, breaking the snowballs a fraction of the moment before they hit her. She stumbled and landed on her back in the snow, laughing.
“Not fair!”
“I’m Mad Rogan. I don’t do fair.”
His phone chirped. He took it out and flicked his finger across it. A message from Bug.
Cold gripped him.
He didn’t see Nevada until she was on top of him. She knocked him off his feet and landed on his chest. Her lips closed on his, and he kissed her, while his mind feverishly cycled through a dozen different strategies.
“What is it?” she asked.
“What?”
“You were here with me and now you’re not. What is it, Connor?”
He opened his mouth to tell her it was nothing, greedy for a few more hours of bliss, and then remembered who she was.
“Bug identified the shell company that tried to buy your mortgage.”
Nevada pushed her hat back. “And?”
“We thought it was Augustine. It’s not. The shell corporation belongs to House Tremaine. Your grandmother knows, Nevada. We have to go back. Your family is in danger.”
