Present Day...

"No way, baby. Fuck that. We're not calling a tow truck. It's only a little snow!" Ryan  yells from behind the car.

Right. Only little a snow. We've only been trying to push ourselves out of a two-foot snowbank for the last twenty minutes. No big deal.

I don't get it. He'd rather be knee-deep in dirty snow and ice than have to depend on someone to get us out. I'm not sure what he's trying to prove because I've never doubted his abilities. I am starting to doubt his common sense, though.

"Just give me another minute to try clear the tires and we'll give her another go," he assures me. t's only been a month but this game is so familiar, so I roll my eyes like any wife would when her husband goes all caveman.

We've been on the road for almost four hours, and according to my dear husband, we're only half an hour away from his Mom's house. We'd practically be there by now if we'd just call for help.

I wonder what the hell he was thinking taking this route. There has to be an alternative, because we're literally in the middle of nowhere. We're surrounded by hundreds of tall pine trees. They're beautiful, especially covered in snow, but I'd appreciate them even more from inside the comfort of a toasty warm house with a belly full of turkey and cranberry sauce.

It can't be much warmer than 25 degrees. My knees bounce in place in an attempt to keep the rest of me warm. I wrap my arms around my middle and press my head to the top of the steering wheel. I'm no wimp; it's really, really cold. The only way this could be any worse if if the car battery decided to die. It's official; the universe is frowning on us today.

"Okay, Hen. Try her again!" He calls out to me. I'm in the driver's seat and the window is rolled down so I can hear him. I press the gas pedal flat to the ground and crank the wheel in the direction he suggests, but it's just no use.The tires spin beneath me and the back end fishtails from Ryan 's efforts, but we don't move forward. Not even an inch.

"Did you push it all the way, Henley? I mean, you really need to floor it."

"Yes, Ry. If I pushed any harder my foot would go through the floor..." My voice is raspy and laced with sarcasm. I bite my tongue before I say something that will make me sound like a downer.

I appreciate him trying. I really, really do. But I'm about to go off on him. I told him we should've brought the pickup truck. I'm pretty sure it could've handled this amount of snow a whole hell of a lot better than my little car. My frustration subsides when I peer into the rearview mirror and meet his eyes. I focus on how cold he looks—his frozen, red ears below his red baseball cap. Watery eyes from the nasty wind. He's miserable and I want to get him warm before he gets sick. He lets out a string of cuss words and I realize what I need to do.

I go ahead and make the decision he won't. I grab his phone from the dashboard and scroll through his contacts until I find his brother, because I'm not above asking for help.

The conversation is a little awkward because we've never actually met, but I'm glad I called. He said he should be here in under an hour with a shovel to help dig us out. Ryan  can be pissed at me all he wants. I'll deal with that later.

Satisfied that I made the right decision, I climb out of the car and make my way to him. He stops kicking the snow around and looks up, frowning.

"What are you doing? Get back inside! I'll have us out in a minute. There's no sense in both of us freezing." He breathes hot air into his hands, then rubs them together.

My feet slide on the ice beneath me. My knee-high leather boots weren't meant to be worn in this amount of snow. It's time I start thinking more practically about my fashion choices; I just saw the way Ryan's eyes lit up the last time I put these on and decided I wouldn't mind seeing that look again. And yes,I do realize I'm torturing both of us.

"Enough with the caveman routine. Get back in the car. You're being ridiculous."

My feet start moving in this woman-scorned stomp toward him. Just when I think I'm in the clear my feet come up from under me. I reach out for Ryan  to stop myself from hitting the ground, but I'm just not quick enough. My hand doesn't quite reach his shoulder in time and I start to go down. My right ankle rolls and I cry out, but his arms are around me before I crash into the snow. I focus on him instead of my pain and instantly feel better.

"Jesus, baby. I told you to get back in the car. Are you okay?!" He sounds really worried.

I don't know about my ankle, but the rest of me is feeling mighty fine all wrapped up in his arms. I slip my hands around the back of his neck before trying to put weight on my ankle. It hurts, but I don't think it's sprained. His hands slide down my arms and hold my elbows to steady me. I'm in okay enough shape to realize just how damn good it feels to be this close to him.Just how warm his breath is as it comes out in puffs so close they touch my lips.

I swallow and prepare myself to ruin the moment. I have to tell him.

"I called your brother. He'll be here with a shovel in under an hour," I try to keep my voice strong to let him know I'm confident I made the right decision and that I'm not sorry about it. This was a disagreement I couldn't let him win. I'm waiting for angry eyes or a bit of a scolding but it never comes. Instead, he laughs.

A range of emotions rolls through me. Frustration, then relief. Confusion, and even though it makes no sense, contentment. I can't stay angry with him for too long because he's just so genuine. One look and I forget I was pissed in the first place.

"What's so funny?" I'd put my hand on my hips if I didn't think I'd fall on my ass. "I expected you to blow a gasket when I told you. Shit, if I knew you'd be fine with it I would've called him before you even got out of the car."

He continues laughing in this real, gut-aching way. He presses his hand into his stomach and throws his head back up toward the snowy sky before he looks at me again.When he does, his eyes shine with laughter tears.

"You're amazing," he manages. "The whole ride in you're biting your nails, saying how nervous you are. I piss you off and all that's out the window. You know what I think?" He pauses. "I think you don't like being told no. You're as stubborn as I am. Maybe worse."

I raise my eyebrows and wait. "And you know what else? You're all kinds of sexy when you're irritated. I'm tucking this little memory in my back pocket for later."

"Well what? You'd be content standing out here all day if no one ever drove past and offered to help, and that's crazy," I tell him seriously. "Your family is waiting on us to eat."

He sighs and gives me a look that tells me I was right, then scoops me up in his arms and carries me back to the car. It's freezing out, but his body is solid and warm. I notice its absence the moment he sets me down in the passenger seat. I press my head back into the headrest and squeeze my eyes closed. It's not nearly warm enough in here. I'm glad we only have to wait a little bit longer.

"I know," his voice holds apology as he grabs a fleece blanket from under his seat and spreads it across us. "I'm sorry. Trust me, this isn't the first time I've apologized to you for being stubborn, and I'm sure won't be the last."

He tugs off his wet gloves and shoves them into his coat pocket. His hands sneak under the blanket and tugs his half up to his shoulders. He'd never admit it, but he's freezing, too. Our thermos of coffee ran dry about an hour ago, and the heater in the car can only do so much.

It's not his fault we slid off the road. A deer ran out just a few feet ahead of us; if we didn't swerve we would've hit it, and from what Ryan  says, the snowbank was the much better choice. I've spent enough time in the hospital.

I turn my head to the side and stare at him. His cheeks are still red and the snow on the bill of his baseball cap begins to melt and slide down his cheek. I reach a handout from the blanket to wipe his cheek and my fingernails scrape his stubble. It's rough in the best way. He turns to look at me and tiny goosebumps pop up on my skin. When he lets out a sound of pure satisfaction, I shiver. This time it's not from the cold.

I know. Just days I go I told him we should just be friends. I did mean it. We're in a pretty good place in our relationship and I'm scared to mess anything up.

But My. God.

If he looked at me like that when we were younger, it's no wonder I married him. My skin tingles wherever he touches me, and I know that's not a normal feeling between friends. My body sizzles from his appraisal of me. I can only imagine what it's like when he doesn't have to hold back.

It's so tiny in this car. There's a gearshift between us and it's uncomfortable to reach across for too long, but I don't want to pull my hand away. When I finally try, he reaches under the blanket for my free one and he squeezes it tightly.

"You're shaking. You may not remember this, but I run hot as an oven. Come on. I'll behave,"he turns so his back is pressed against his door and spreads his legs to create an opening. For me. His coat is unzipped and my eyes flick down to his dark jeans. Heat floods my cheeks because it all looks warm and inviting. I think on it for just a moment before climbing over to him and resting my back against his warm chest.

I lean my head back into the crook of his neck and close my eyes. I'm surrounded by that familiar scent and it's doing wonderful things to heat my system. After I'm settled in, he leans down close to my ear and says, "I promise not to bite until you tell me to."

Is he trying to kill me? This man is at an unfair advantage; he knows me intimately. What makes me purr and tick and from the looks of it, not much has changed.

I don't move or say a thing because I can't trust my voice not to break from the sheer sensuality of that thought. I briefly wonder about the things we used to do, and how it would feel it f we were pressed together this way with far fewer pieces of clothing. Say...in our bed.

My heart rate spikes and I know he can probably feel my pulse thumping in my neck since we're practically stuck together. He draws the blanket up over us and pulls me closer to him until I'm sure there's no space between us at all. When his hands come to rest on my thighs, I realize I'm not the only one on overdrive. His heart thuds wildly against my shoulder blades. I won't try to convince myself that it's just his body trying to warm up.

I remind myself that we're only trying to keep warm.

While I've given him the friends speech more than one time since we left the hospital, I don't think he really buys it. I'm pretty sure he's just waiting for it to all click into place and for me to remember this awesome, hot thing we had going on. And I still don't remember a thing about it...but I don't need memories to tell me how good he feels. These are fresh feelings, born purely from this moment, and I'm going to let myself enjoy it until Kristian pulls up and digs us out of our little nest.

I let my shoulders relax against him and slip my hands between his grip and my thighs, threading my fingers with his.

"How's the ankle?" He asks near my ear again. He shifts his hand so it's under my thigh and draws my leg up toward us so he can remove my boot. I move the blanket slightly and roll up the bottom of my jeans so he can take a better look. I know he's not a doctor, but he's Ryan; everything else he's ever done for me has made me feel a million times better. I know this will be no different...and for once, I'm really enjoying the attention.

I turn it a few times without cringing,and after he rubs the pad of his thumb around my ankle bone a few times, he decides it's not swelling but that I should put some snow on it anyway. He sits forward to support us, then opens his door and scoops up a fresh handful of snow from the ground and presses it to my skin.

Instead of letting my leg fall back down, he pulls my other leg up and squeezes it tightly against me, insisting it'll help us stay warm. Personally, I think he just likes feeling up my legs, but I won't call him out on it. Who knows when I'll have the courage to do this again.

"You warming up?" He asks and I nod.

He's got his nose buried in my hair. He hasn't said anything in awhile and I can't be certain, but I think he's been pressing tiny kisses to the back of my head. I'm too cold to protest, and it'd only be half-hearted right now anyway. I wonder if his head is half as twisted up about this as mine. I don't want to hurt him or lead him on. He just feels so good.

"Now that the novelty has worn off, I hope you're not angry that I called Kristian. I was starting to think we'd be spending my first Thanksgiving in four years in our Corvette, gorging on chips, blueberry muffins and a 2 Liter of Diet Pepsi."

"Sounds like something we used to do," I can feel his lips turn up into a smile against the side of my neck. He runs his nose along the length of it and I shiver once more. I could get used to this. I wonder how awkward things will be once we're in a warm house and don't have a reason or excuse to constantly touch.

I wonder if I'll want to touch him anyway. I think my common sense is freezing over

"What did we used to do? Live out of our car?"

"Kind of. For awhile," he swallows. "If not our car, then a bunch of cheap hotels." There's a fondness in his voice that I just can't understand. The whole thing sounds horrible to me.

"We were on the road a lot. City to city. Track to track..." He rests his chin on my shoulder and tips his head so it's pressed against mine. "We didn't stay in one place for very long at all. I knew I'd met my match in you when you looked and me and said, 'The road feels more like to home to me than any house ever has...' We didn't have a care in the world, except for each other.

"You don't remember this car, do you?" He asks. I answer carefully but honestly, because he's holding his breath as if what I say could make or break this entire moment.

"I'm sorry. I don't," I bite my lip. "But it's a really beautiful car. I love it. I just don't love that we're driving it today," I smile. "I'm not so reckless anymore, I guess. From the sounds of it, this would've been pretty normal back then."

He nods against me. "Oh yeah. It was you, me and this Corvette. We had the pickup, too, so we could haul my race car around, but once I started doing more competitions, I had guys to drive that around when I needed," he explains, pushing a few strands of hair away from my neck.

My chest aches from this tiny bit of information. I try to picture us crammed into this tiny car with all of our belongings, but I can't. The life he's explaining seems rough and irresponsible. Completely opposite of the life he's been giving me now. I wonder what changed. He won't tell me what made him give up racing but I'm sure I'll find out one day. Right now I'm still processing the whole living-in-our-car thing.

I had money we could've used. Why the hell didn't we use it?

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but even now when I think back to it, it'll always be one of the happiest times in my life. Before I met you, I was looking for a way to live. To not feel numb. And yeah, we hit a lot of bumps in the road on the way, but I'd hit them all again if I had to. Hell, I'd hit them twenty times harder just to be right here with you again."

I turn and he's looking at me like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him. I can feel the love radiating off him; it's coming in big, heady waves and I close my eyes to bask in it. I feel selfish, because I don't want to lead him on. Right now, I'm not. Right now, I feel amazing. I try to ask myself if I'm just attention starved or if my hormones are overheating, but it feels like something else.

I do know his lips are pressed to my forehead and I'm ready to die. His fingers tuck my hair behind my ears and his eyes sparkle. Then, he says something I'm positive I'll remember for the rest of my life.

"Thank you for waking up, Henley."

It's enough to make a stream of tears slide down my cheeks. In the month I've been awake, he's been careful not too reach too deep or pressure me. There's something about now that feels okay. We're close and it's intimate, but not sexual. He's holding onto me for dear life, like he knows at any second I could pull away and tell him not to touch me.

But I won't. I can't. His eyes keep roaming down to my lips, like he's starved for me. It would be so selfish of me to let hm kiss me just because I'm completely into it right now. Especially since I've warned him off so much these weeks. I'm sure I broke his heart enough while I was gone for four years. What if I kiss him and regret it afterward? I can't ruin Thanksgiving. I can't ruin this good thing we've had going.

I can't worry about what I could ruin, because it's too late. I didn't move away when his lips brushed across my cheek. I didn't tell him to stop when they grazed the corner of my mouth. I think I moved closer, so it's probably completely my fault that his teeth are now sinking into my lower lip gently, pulling me into his mouth in a way that's both sweet and hot.

He tightens his grip on my hips and urges me to twist in the seat as he realigns his back so he's facing the windshield. He's worked his way up the bottom of my shirt to dig his fingers into the bare skin of my waist. My body cooperates without complaint; I can't even think of what's going to happen. I only feel his warm breath on my lips when he whispers my name like it's a holy word. Only memorize the feel of his stubble scratching my skin as he finally seals his lips on mine for the first time in four years. For the first time ever...for me.

I wonder if my heart skipped like this during our real first kiss.

He pulls me down against him and I slide my legs on either side of his hips. He comes up to kiss me hard on the mouth again and I bump against the horn. He smiles against my mouth and scoots me closer to him so it doesn't happen again.

I'll admit it; I don't know what I'm doing with him. His longing gazes have me blushing because he's the type of man who tells a woman what he wants with just a look. I'm sure as hell glad my body seems to know the drill, because I can tell he likes kissing me a certain way. I must be doing okay, because the sounds he's making are driving me insane.

It dawns on me that I may have lost my virginity to him four years ago and I don't even remember it. I can't ask him right now. I'm not sure I'm ready to know yet. I dream up all the things we may have done in this car and all the things we might be doing right now, if Kristian wasn't going to be here in just a few minutes. Nails and teeth and sweat. I don't remember being this way with him before, but I'm riled up picturing us right now.

Right. Kristian. Why did I call him, again?

My fingers wind in his hair; the diamond of my ring has spun to the inside of my finger and pushes into his scalp. I pull away for a second to catch my breath. He's breathing hard, his lips red and swollen and his cheeks flushed. From me.

I feel crazy, like I could do anything, and I wonder if this spontaneity is me, or if being stuck on the side of the road with him has made me into something else entirely. He rises up to kiss me again and tugs my hair. I let out a little yelp. It feels good enough to want