He shrugged then grunted. “Ouch. Son of a bitch!”
“Take another pain med. You’re about due. There should be a water bottle on the floor by your feet.”
He clamped his lips together. “I’ll wait until we get home.”
“Suit yourself.” She focused on the road. As the snow collected on the pavement, she shifted into 4-wheel-drive, glad she’d used the Christmas check from her mother to buy new tires. “There’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable.”
“I don’t like feeling fuzzy.”
“A party animal like you? I’d think you’d be used to it.” She took her eyes off the road long enough to glance over at him.
His scowl was just visible in the dim light as dusk closed in. “I may go out a lot. My sponsors expect me to bolster the Wilde Thing image in the public eye, but I don’t drink excessively during the ski season. Or any other time for that matter. I care too much about staying in top form.”
Hannah couldn’t argue with his logic. At his brother’s engagement party a few months back, she’d seen his form in nothing but a pair of shorts as he’d headed to the shower one morning. She could vouch for the fact that he stayed in incredible shape. “Good for you.”
They rode in silence for some time as the snow fell faster.
“I’m not the complete derelict you seem to think I am.”
Her brows shot up. “I never said—”
He snorted. “You don’t have to say anything. Your expression does the talking for you every time you look at me.”
Clenching the wheel a little harder, she reined in her irritation. “I’m surprised you noticed. I always thought I was invisible around you.”
He turned in his seat and stared. “Why would you think that?”
“How many times did I visit your ranch while I was in college with Eden?”
“Uh, a couple, I’m pretty sure.”
“Three Christmases, two spring breaks and a month one summer. You were around at least part of the time on each occasion.” She gritted her teeth. “As I said, invisible.”
“That many? Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Huh. I could have sworn…” He shook his head. “Ancient history. You’re…different now.”
“You mean not fat.” Her voice came out flat and hard.
“I didn’t imply anything of the sort.”
“Only because your mother raised you better. You were thinking it.”
He let out a long sigh. “Is it a crime to notice you look pretty damn hot now?”
Remnants of old pain dissolved in a spurt of satisfaction. “Not in the least.” She flicked on her blinker and headed down the West Shore of Lake Tahoe. “Where do you live, exactly?”
“I have a house up in Talmont.”
Hannah winced. “We might get up that hill, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back down again later. It’s dumping. I’d guess four inches of snow since we left the hospital in Truckee.”
“I have extra bedrooms and a spare toothbrush. No reason for you to go anywhere.”
Her stomach did a funny little flip, not unlike the one Tripp had performed before the avalanche buried him alive. She could only hope for a better ending to the evening. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“Where’s your home?”
“A tiny, old cabin in Timberland I inherited from my grandfather. Funny, Eden didn’t mention you were only a few miles away when she visited me last fall.”
He rested his head against the window, dark lashes visible on his cheeks as they passed under a streetlight. “I was in Europe at the time, and I haven’t had this house long enough for the family to have seen it yet.”
His words slurred slightly. Hannah frowned. Maybe it was just exhaustion or the pain meds, but she wasn’t leaving him home alone with a concussion, no matter how mild. She passed the turnoff to his neighborhood and kept going.
Tripp didn’t say anything more until the car stopped. He sat up straighter, opened his eyes, then glanced around at her cabin backed up against white-coated trees just visible through the falling snow in the glare of the headlights. “Where are we?”
“My place. The doctor wants someone to keep an eye on you, and it looks like that someone is going to be me. I need to pack a bag and collect my dog. My neighbor would feed her if I asked, but she can come with us instead.” She opened the car door to a swirl of fat flakes. “Be right back.”
Trudging through the snow on the path to the front porch, she stomped her boots before unlocking the door to step inside. Her Tiffany lamp, an impulse purchase she hadn’t regretted, glowed on the end table by the couch, casting a warm glow over knotty pine walls. A soft thump sounded from the other room. No doubt Winnie jumping off the bed. Her baby strolled out to greet her, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. The spaniel yawned and stretched as Hannah stooped to rub her silky ears.
“Did you have a boring day? Sorry I’m home so late.”
Straightening, she headed into the bedroom to pack the overnight bag she pulled off a shelf in the closet. A change of clothes and pajamas was all she would need. Her hand hovered over the stack of folded flannel. She jerked it back and searched behind her practical nightwear for a lone silk gown. If Tripp caught a glimpse of her in that little red number, she might not be so invisible anymore. Dropping it into the open bag, she stuffed in a warm fleece robe and quilted slippers. It was January, after all, and she didn’t want to freeze. After collecting a few toiletries from the bathroom with Winnie at her heels, she headed into the kitchen to grab a bag of dog food and her pet’s bowls.
Hannah glanced down. “That should do it. Ready to go?”
Winnie gave a sharp bark and shook. Smiling, Hannah turned off the light and, helped by a gust of wind, opened the door then locked it after her dog scurried out.
“Go pee while you have the chance. I don’t want to take you out the minute we get to Tripp’s place.”
Apparently Winnie was feeling co-operative, or she hadn’t bothered to use her doggie door in a while. After she took care of business near a snow-covered bush, Hannah hurried toward the car. Opening the back door, she tossed in her overnight bag and the dog supplies.
“Get in.”
Winnie leaped up onto the seat then jumped to the center console to land on Tripp’s lap with a thud.
“What the hell?” He jerked upright and blinked.
Hannah slammed the rear door then slid onto the driver’s seat. “Sorry about that. She’s used to riding up front. Be glad she’s not a Saint Bernard.”
One hand came up to stroke the dog’s long, brown and white fur. Winnie closed her eyes in obvious bliss and groaned.
Why wouldn’t she? I bet most females respond that way to Tripp when he touches them.
“Pretty. What is she?”
“A King Charles Spaniel. Her name’s Winnie, although I should have called her Princess.” Hannah backed the car out of the drive then headed down the snowy street. “She expects to be treated like royalty.”
“Why not? She’s a beauty. I like dogs, but I travel too much to own one.”
“When I take out-of-town cases, I bring her with me. If my client has a problem with that, I cut them loose. I can pretty much pick and choose who I work with at this point.” She leaned forward to peer through