“That was a joke, Red.” I gestured toward her attire. Red and pink everything, which didn’t go together but somehow seemed to suit her. “You also have a car instead of a basket, but let me mix a metaphor or two.”
“Ah. Big bad wolf, is it then? Sorry, you don’t seem to fit.” She marched toward me and grasped the side of my pants. “Wile E. Coyote sweats aren’t exactly scary, tough guy.”
“Don’t touch,” I growled and that made her step back and cock her head, much like a puppy. Instead of a floppy ear, she had the bouncy pouf on top of her hat. “I can’t just touch you.”
She seemed to think about that. It was getting darker, and the snowflakes falling between us were coming faster and harder. But if I wasn’t mistaken, she was pondering that comment as if I’d just said the most important thing she’d ever heard.
“No,” she said after a moment. “I guess you can’t. You shouldn’t. Just because Derek ran off with Trini isn’t a reason for me to let strange men touch me. Especially ones wearing sweatpants.”
“What’s wrong with sweatpants?”
The most ridiculous thing about this whole conversation? I didn’t want to touch her. I was almost sure. So what if it had been a while for me? That was by choice. God knows I had women throwing themselves at me front, back and center, and it only promised to get worse as things took off with the single. I’d backed off the fuck-and-duck game simply because I’d gotten bored.
I was tired of fake women cloaked in pretenses who just wanted me for my fame. As much as I exploited my growing fame to get any damn thing I wanted.
Never said I wasn’t a fucked-up bastard, now did I?
“There’s nothing wrong with them, per se. They’re just not fashionable.”
In spite of the fact that my face felt like it was freezing into place, I cocked a brow. “Oh, and that eye-searing combo you have on is? You practically have on a snowsuit. Like a child.”
Her cheeks reddened. I don’t know how I could tell the difference considering she’d been awful damn pink from the wind to start with, but somehow I knew I’d gotten to her. “I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman who likes to be prepared.”
“Huh.” I crossed my arms and jutted my chin toward her car. “So how’s that working out for you?”
She stepped forward, kicking up snow with her gigantic boots. Then she let her gaze wander down the front of me and let out a little harrumph. “And you know what else? Statistics say that eighty-eight-point-six of grown men who wear sweatpants are either still living in their mother’s basements or they’re serial killers.”
Deliberately, I moved into her space, dwarfing her with my size. And yet again, she did not back down. “Those are some odds, Red. Are you feeling lucky?”
CHAPTER 2
Maggie
I was supposed to be afraid of this guy. That was what he wanted me to be anyway. Why else would he be looming over me as if he wanted to do me bodily harm?
But I wasn’t buying it. Let’s go over the evidence.
Wile E. Coyote sweats.
Enough concern to pluck me out of my car like a wilted vegetable.
Back to the Wile E. Coyote sweats.
Also, possibly the kindest, softest, most intriguing brown eyes I’d ever seen. Surrounded by a frame of inky lashes. Such a heavy fringe that snow kept gathering on them until he grew impatient and blinked it away.
But that was neither here nor there.
“First of all, there are most likely no serial killers in Turnbull or the surrounding towns. That’s extremely improbable, given the size of the population.”
“So are your dumbass statistics, but I didn’t call you on them, did I?”
I wasn’t pouting at being called a dumbass. Lord knows I’d been called much worse. As the youngest of six, I’d gotten used to verbal abuse at a young age. I almost enjoyed it.
Just because I looked small and defenseless didn’t mean I was. I tended to sneak up on people like a bunny.
Aww, she’s so cute and fluffy—CHOMP.
“Then again, you’re not making any effort to assist a stranded traveler, so maybe you are planning to Ted Bundy me. Where’s your fake cast, huh?” I gave his arms in the sleeves of his surprisingly thin coat a glance before pretending to search the snowbanks around us. “Where’s your VW Bug with the passenger seat taken out?”