He tried the gate and found it locked. If she’d finally started taking all his security lectures seriously, something was definitely wrong. Carefully, he set her on her feet on the sidewalk. She stumbled and caught herself in the hedgerow. Grinning up at him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight.
“You’re a good hugger,” she murmured against his chest, seemingly unaware that his arms were at his sides.
“Gimmie your keys, Rem.”
“Hug me first,” she insisted.
“Seriously?”
“But first open your coat. I don’t want to hug coat. I want to hug you.”
It was not a good idea to let Remington Ford through any layers of defenses. Especially clothing. It was too dangerous.
When he didn’t move, she attacked his zipper and the velcro closures of his parka. It took her three times longer than it would a sober person, but she finally managed with a shimmy of triumph.
“Okay. Here we go,” she said. “Are you ready?”
He was never ready for physical contact with her.
She resumed her original position, arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest. Without the protection of his coat, he felt everything too much.
It pained him to slip his arms around her small frame, to pull her tighter to him. He hated how well she fit. He could rest his chin on the top of her head and breathe in her hair. “Did you have a hat on?” he asked. She’d changed her shampoo somewhere through the years. Instead of a bright lemony scent, it now smelled like exotic oils. Tempting the senses like a spell cast.
“It fell off somewhere,” she said cheerfully. “Keep hugging.”
On a sigh, he did as he was told because arguing with Drunk Remi was even worse than arguing with Sober Remi. And Drunk Remi used deadlier weapons. Pouty lower lips, sad eyes. He could withstand her annoyance, her anger, but he couldn’t handle her sad.
Peeling her face off his coat, she leaned back to look up at him. “It’s snowing,” she announced unnecessarily. It was always snowing on Mackinac.
“I see that,” he said, reaching up to brush a snowflake off her cheek. She cuddled her face against his palm.
“Your face and my hand are freezing. You should come inside so you don’t get frostbite and lose my face.”
“I would if you gave me the keys,” he said in exasperation.
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” she yawned, burrowing her face into his shirt again.
“Remi?”
“Huh?”
“Keys.”
“Oh, right. Check my pockets.”
Cursing, he dug through her coat pockets, coming up with two hair ties, her cell phone, and a candy bar wrapper. He found the cottage key ring in the front pocket of her jeans and fished it out as quickly as possible with two fingers.
He noticed she wasn’t carrying her inhaler. That would be a conversation for Sober Remi.
“I’m sooooo sleepy,” she announced with a dramatic yawn.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, opening the gate and wrestling her through it.
She was shuffling her feet like it took too much effort to lift them, so he picked her up again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and then stuck her ice cube of a nose against his throat.
“If I wrote Hallmark movies, this would be a scene. The sexy lumberjack carries the drunk damsel in distress into a secluded cottage.”
He got the front door open and stepped inside. It was warm and bright inside. The fire cast a cozy heat throughout the living space. He was right—she’d turned on every lamp in the house except for the bedroom.
“What would happen next in your movie?” he asked, setting her on her feet and unzipping her coat.
“The sexy lumberjack and drunk damsel would totally have sex,” she said, swaying into him.
“I don’t think you’re talking about making a Hallmark movie then,” he said.
He took off his own coat and pushed her toward a chair at the little dining table.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
“Sit.” He nudged her into the chair and knelt down to remove her boots. Her socks were mismatched.
She leaned on one elbow and closed her eyes.
“Not yet, Remi. Water first.”
“Water first,” she repeated without opening her eyes.
He went into the kitchen and filled a glass from the tap. A quick search of the cabinets revealed an old bottle of ibuprofen. With both in hand, he returned to the table where she was now facedown on top of some paperwork.
“Come on, baby. Drink up.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to drink anymore. Can’t you see I’m practically swimming in alcohol?”
“I meant water,” he said, pushing the glass into her hand. “And take these.”
“Are those Tic Tacs? Is my breath gross?”
“It’s for the headache you’re going to have in a few hours, and if there’s a god, all day tomorrow.”
“You know what sucks?” she said as she tossed the tablets into her mouth and nearly knocked over the water.
“A lot of things.”
“Hangovers. I turned thirty and BAM!” She slammed a hand down on the table. “It’s like getting hit with a three-day flu. I hardly ever drink anymore.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Yeah, well, you think I’m a terrible person, so I can see why you’d think that.”
“I don’t think you’re a terrible person. A terrible pain in the ass, yes.”
“Brick?” she looked up at him with sad eyes. Her lower lip trembled.
Damn it. Be strong, man!
“What?” God. What was she going to ask him, and would he be able to say yes? More importantly, would he be strong enough to deny her?
“Will you please make me some mac and cheese?”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “Yeah, baby. I’ll make you some mac and cheese.”
She smiled up at him. “You take such good care of me.”
“I’m glad you think so, at least when you’re drunk. Why don’t you get ready for bed, and I’ll bring you a bowl?” he suggested.
“Do I have to?”
He went into the kitchen and found the boxes of pasta he’d given her in the otherwise empty cabinet. At this rate, he was going to have to drag her ass to the grocery store. “Don’t women have to take off their eye makeup before bed?” he reminded her, putting a small pot on the front burner.
“Good point. How do you know that? Oh, right, I forgot. You were married. That was terrible, by the way.”
“It wasn’t exactly a good time for me either,” he murmured.
“If you didn’t want to be with me, you didn’t have to go off and marry my best friend,” Remi said.
He stood there open-mouthed as she shuffled off toward the bathroom.
There was a muffled yelp and a thump followed quickly by an “I’m okay!”
“Are you sure?”
“Is my macaroni done yet?”
He rolled his eyes and turned up the heat on the burner.
She was singing now as water ran in the bathroom. It sounded like she was getting ready to take a shower.
“Psst! Brick!”
He looked up and then immediately glanced away again. She was wrapped up in nothing but a towel. And that towel was only covering one of her two spectacular breasts.