Beth shook her head. "I have to go."
Harrison reached around her, grabbing his own jacket. "Let's get you home then."
She looked away before he could catch the protestation on her face, but Beth knew he sensed it anyway. Harrison was intuitive, and she was sure he'd had lots of practice garnering peoples' true thoughts even while they didn't voice them.
"Get over it," was all he said.
Exhaling slowly, Beth nodded. She would.
FIVE
PROPERLY ATTIRED, SHE stepped out and into what felt like a blizzard. Her legs were covered midway up to her calves in snow as she lumbered through the thick coldness. What am I doing? The wind whipped the strands of her hair not anchored down by her stocking cap up and in her face. She could see her breaths, and her nose and cheeks were instantly assaulted. It literally hurt to be outside. Beth zipped up the jacket to her chin, the material rubbing against her sensitive skin.
Harrison met her eyes, a question in his.
Beth shrugged and turned to the vehicle.
Small tremors ran through her body as she pried open the door of the Blazer. The metal was stuck together by ice, and it took multiple tries, her fingers aching by the time she got the door to cooperate. Snow tumbled down the side of the vehicle, landing inside the car and on her. The Abominable Snowman was not on her list of things to be today. Beth allowed herself a moment to calm down as she brushed aside the snow, but she was still stiff-jawed and irate as she went about retracting the scraper from the backseat.
When she straightened, her eyes unconsciously looked for Harrison. "Harrison?" The wind caught Beth's voice and sent away the word like she had never spoken.
She closed the door and turned, seeing the outlines of trees in the valleys below the hill line. Beth faced the house. It was hard to see more than a few feet in front of her, and when she didn't find Harrison, Beth's pulse tripled its beat, and she hurried as fast as she could through the snow to the other side of the vehicle. She opened her mouth to call out again when she heard a scraping sound. Beth angled her head to the side and picked out a dark figure at the front of the Blazer, his form bent over at the waist and hard to distinguish.
"What are you doing?" she demanded as she stopped near him.
Harrison paused with a shovel in his hand and looked up. His eyes matched the shade of the night sky, his skin reddened by the below zero temperatures and powerful wind gusts. "I'm shoveling."
"I know that," she huffed, feeling silly.
He inclined his head and went back to work.
Beth started clearing off the Blazer, but as quickly as the snow was removed, it was substituted for more. After about twenty minutes, she admitted defeat, chucking the scraper to the ground. Her fingers and toes were numb, and her face ached from being so cold. She gazed down the driveway, and all she saw was white. She looked up, and all she saw was more white. Beth turned her gaze to Harrison, seeing a man framed by white. Gripping the handlebar, he rested his chin on his gloved hands and waited, his eyebrows lifted.
"This is pointless."
"It is," he agreed.
"But you knew I had to find that out on my own, didn't you?"
He didn't reply, shoveling a path to the house. She couldn't fault his logic. People generally needed to see things for themselves in order to believe them. Beth picked up the scraper and put it back in the vehicle as Harrison finished up, meeting him at the side door to the garage. He was breathing hard, and even with the limited visibility, she could tell all the color was gone from his face.
"How are you doing?" she asked, examining his features.
His mouth twisted at the inquiry, but he spoke evenly as he said, "Well enough."
"Look at you, answering questions and stuff."
Harrison's eyes narrowed.
Smiling to herself, Beth stepped forward too fast and slid on ice hidden by snow, her arms shooting up and her legs flying out from under her. With a grunt leaving her, she landed on her back, her head thumping against the shoveled part of the ground. The air rushed from her lungs in a painful gasp. It didn't take long for the snow to chill her entire body. As she ascertained she was not seriously hurt, Beth stared up at the swirling snow, thinking it deceptive as the snowflakes swayed and swirled like mini, frozen tornadoes. It was beautiful to look at, but that's as far as the exquisiteness went.
Harrison dropped to his knees next to her, concern pinching the sides of his mouth. She shifted her eyes to him. His irises looked like two black coals in the dark. He touched her shoulder and immediately removed his gloved hand as if scorched. "Can you move?"
It took her a moment to catch her breath, her mouth ineffectively opening and closing. "S-stupid … s-snow," she got out around chattering teeth.
The skin around Harrison's eyes crinkled as he showed her how a full smile looked upon his face. Both corners lifted, and there were teeth. She lost her breath again. His eyes softened, light dancing in the black. "You should write winter a very stern letter, listing all your complaints against it."
"Number one … would be the stupid snow," she told him, smiling back.
His head tilted back as he laughed, dropping his gaze to her face. The mirth lingered on his features with sharp, masculine charm. All Harrison had to do was smile and laugh and Beth forgot all sense. Good thing it didn't seem to happen often. "Let's get you up before you turn into a life-sized Popsicle."
The process was slow and awkward, mainly because each time Beth went to use Harrison as an anchor, he moved away. She was on her knees with him crouched next to her, gazing at him in exasperation when she finally said, "Are you afraid to touch me?"
He looked away. "I know you'd rather I didn't."
"You're wrong," Beth told him, conviction strident in her tone. "You told me to get over it and I'm over it. All of it. I wouldn't have asked to hug you if I wasn't."
Doubt lingered in his expression. "Just like that, huh?"
"Just like that." She nodded.
"Why?" he asked faintly.
"Why, what?"
"Why did you want to hug me?"
Her body flooded with warmth, and Beth felt her heart reach toward the man beside her. It wanted to designate all the hurting parts of him as hers, and heal them. "Because I think you needed one, and maybe I just wanted a hug."
He dropped his attention to the ground, the weight of a million invisible bricks resting on his shoulders.
For Harrison's benefit, Beth changed the subject. "Can we please do this already? I'm really, really cold."
Harrison swallowed thickly, giving a short nod.
It was much faster to get her to stand after that. With an arm around her waist, he helped her to the door. Beth leaned into him, enjoying his heat, and the firmness of his body on hers. She was lightheaded, and it wasn't from the fall. Harrison entered the garage and turned on a light. Beth stepped in after him, shutting the door on the seasonal chaos. Her body convulsed in tiny tremors; her face was numb and her lips felt dry and cracked. A hot bath, fluffy pajamas, food, and a bed were all she wanted.
"What time were you supposed to be at work?"
The room was stark white, two shelves set up along the farthest wall to house tools and other items Beth couldn't name, but that she knew were mandatory to men. A sleek black Ford truck stood tall and proud, its monetary worth clear with a glance at its shiny exterior.
She focused on Harrison, her cheeks burning as their gazes clashed. "Eight."
He nodded, removing his stocking cap to reveal untidy hair. It gave him a hint of boyishness that made it hard for her to swallow. "You should call them. I'll get you some more dry clothes."
"Can I … would it be okay if I took a bath? And, um, do you have a long-sleeved shirt I can wear to … to bed? I get cold easily." Beth shifted her feet as his eyes bored into hers. Her innocent questions somehow sounded like propositions to her ears and she hoped he didn't hear the same. She didn't even know where her bed would be.
"Yes," he said slowly, careful to keep his attention from her as he answered. "Of course. I'll fix us something to eat as well-if you're hungry?"
"Yes. I am. Thank you."
Once he disappeared through the attached door to the house, Beth tugged off her gloves and fumbled about in her pocket, searching for her forgotten cell phone. She stared at the screen, knowing if she called in to work under false pretenses, the culpability would hover over her for weeks. But if she called in to work with the truth, it would be worse. If she asked her friend and coworker, Jennifer Travis, to work for her, she probably would, but then Ozzy would wonder what was going on and try to investigate.