Both men looked directly at her. Oh dear, Georgia pushed her hair behind her ears self-consciously. It didn’t take a genius to catch their not-so-subtle hint. They thought Flynn was acting strangely because of her.
Ridiculous. He’d seen her for all of five seconds before slipping back into an unconscious stupor. He did have a head wound. Maybe that explained it.
Georgia caught the mischievous sparkle in the officer’s eyes and realized he was enjoying her discomfort. “He won’t relax until he sees his angel?” She made a clicking sound with her tongue and Roux instantly sat up, her tongue lolling out expectantly. “Roux, go check on snowmobile guy.”
She noticed the men watch as Roux tilted her head, digesting the information, then lope obediently off the bed, past Jimmy and out of the room in search of the man she’d rescued.
Georgia crossed her arms and felt a genuine smile lift her lips for the first time since her flat tire. “She is the angel he’s been talking about after all. All I saved was one little tree.”
Their doubtful expressions were priceless.
Chapter Three
Two days. The wind had been whining for nearly two days before the storm had passed. And now, instead of making her way to her friend’s house, Georgia was outside the cabin of the three sexy hunks, playing in the snow that she’d vowed to hate for all eternity.
It was a much-needed outlet. They’d been driving her crazy during their confinement. For more reasons than she could count, and only one that really mattered.
Sex. More precisely, her growing desire for it.
Where was the reclusive grump who penned witty prose but turned up her nose at flagrant flirting? She’d been replaced by a woman she was sure Grandpa Bale would call a trollop. Harlot. Hussy. If only in her dirty little mind.
With every hour her envy for that Charli woman grew. Three gorgeous men hanging on her every word, laughing at her jokes and taking care of her as if she were something precious? It was addictive.
They weren’t perfect by any means, these “sort of” brothers. They loved to argue with each other, one-up each other just like any other family she supposed. Though Georgia sensed something just beneath the surface. Something sharper. More painful. All was not brotherly love and sunshine in Doc Williams’ cabin. In fact, she’d discovered they’d only renewed this holiday tradition a few years ago. Before that they’d lost touch with each other. Why, she didn’t know.
But when things got too tense, Georgia realized she could always distract them. Make them look at her. Flynn watched her as if she were an angel. Jimmy, as if she were a game he really wanted to play. Or a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Chris studied her as if he saw her in a way no one else ever had. And he liked what he saw. They all did.
When she’d studied her face in the mirror that morning, she’d wondered at that. It wouldn’t exactly launch a thousand ships. Her chin was a bit too pointy. Her lips full but uneven. Her eyes just an average hazel. She had what her mother called a beauty mark above the right corner of her upper lip.
It was a mark that had been stared at more in the last twenty-four hours alone than it had been in all her thirty-three years.
She shook her head as she watched them each attempting to make the better snowman. For her. They were three beautiful examples of the male species. All of them healthy and normal…and snowbound with nothing and no one to occupy their time but her. Of course she had their undivided attention. And as usual, when given the opportunity, her imagination took the wheel.
She’d never had fantasies so vivid as they’d been the last few nights. Or quite so crowded.
She looked down at herself. Beneath the borrowed snowsuit that hid every curve of her body she was wearing their clothes. They’d brought her bags home along with her, but the men had apparently decided that none of the winter clothing she’d bought for her trip to the mountains would do. Instead she’d spent the last two days in giant pants held up with belts and oversized sweaters donated by each of them.
The strangest part was that instead of making her feel clumpy and unattractive, wearing their clothing made her feel feminine. Sexy. Protected. She could smell them on her all the time now. Their scents. All male. It was almost like torture.
She really needed to get out of here before she jumped one of them over their cozy family breakfast table and embarrassed herself. She made a face and lifted a ball of snow into her gloved hand, staring at it. Unfortunately she was, according to them, well and truly stuck.
The plows would go for the main roads first, so it would be a few more days before power starting coming back on in the cities. Before she could get to her rental and to Connie’s house.