Free Thawing the Ice by Shyla Colt Page A

stepped back, avoiding
him. Too close and he muddled her thoughts like a lead wall dampening airwaves.
His deep-seated, brownish-green eyes and high cheekbones led down to a full
pair of deep pink lips she wanted to nibble. Her pulse ramped up.
    “Are you running from me?” Ryan’s
hazel-colored eyes widened. A frown curved his tempting lips down, and the
sharp angles of his face softened with concern. Since the mauling, she’d had
panic attacks. Periods of time where rationalization left the building and
fight or flight set in.
    “We’re all running from something.”
The bitchy tone made her wince. This isn’t how I wanted this to go .
”Shit. I am mangling this.” She hung her head.
    “Just…breathe. It’s clear this
has been bothering you forever, but we’re clueless.” Casey’s soothing baritone
brought her outside her head. The man had a knack for saying the right thing to
smooth over choppy waters. A skill she was convinced he’d been gifted with to
offset his brother’s brusqueness.
    “I had this all worked out in my
head, and now, it’s too much.” Leighton shook her head, begging them to
understand with her eyes. Please don’t make me spell this out. Embarrassment and shame, mixed with a bit of self-loathing, proved to be a pill
too bitter for her to swallow. I just had to flummox this all up by falling
for them.
    “I know it’s been hard since you
lost your dad—” Ryan said.
    “Don’t!” She held out her hand. “I
can’t have that conversation tonight.” Her stomach rolled, protesting the
topic. The sight of her father’s body shredded and left like garbage before the
bear came at her would haunt her for the rest of her life. The nightmares
stopped a few months ago with the time, grieving, and a healthy dose of
counseling. She had no desire to make them resurface.
    “It’s been six months. When are we
going to?” Ryan tilted his head, refusing to back down. Bullheaded and bossy,
he boiled her blood in more ways than one.
    “Not now.” She ground her teeth.
Images of scarlet puddles and internal organs strewn across the grass flashed
in her head. She’d been lucky to make it out alive. Without Ryan and Casey, she
never would have. Thank God they made a habit of stopping by the house to
check on us. Her father, Carl, had been a surrogate father figure to the
boys, and with old age setting in, they often swung by. She’d grown up in this
rural area, had been around wild animals her whole life, often hunting them.
Yet, this bear had been from hell itself. Beastly, it came in at about
eight-hundred-and-fifty pounds and stood at six foot. She’d battled the thing
tooth and nail to survive long enough for help to rush to the rescue when the
bear made a mockery of the security door on the back porch and finagled its way
inside. Pulvers did what they had to.
    “Isn’t that what this is about?”
Ryan scowled. Frustration tinged his voice.
    “No. It’s about me fucking up and
trying to rectify the situation.” Leighton wrapped her arms around her waist.
The thought of leaving the sanctity of their home made her sad. Has to be
done. Man up, Pulver. You screw this up and you’ll have no one left.
    “Leighton, you can tell us
anything, you know that. We’ve known you since you were born,” Casey said. Always
the voice of reason.
    She rolled her eyes. “You love
bringing that up, don’t you?” Right now, the last thing she wanted to remember
was how they viewed her as a little sister.
    “Since when is having history a bad
thing?” Ryan’s jaw flexed.
    “Since the only thing I can think
about is fucking the two of you.” She covered her mouth, shaking her head
vigorously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Casey gasped, and Ryan’s jaw
dropped. The words spilled out like air from a balloon with a hole. “The
one-night-stand, wing woman of the year shit is killing me a little more every
day. I know we could never do casual. Ryan doesn’t do anything else