Free Off the Map (Winter Rescue #2) by Tamara Morgan Page B

response, but he didn’t know what other approach to take. He never thought he’d see the day when he wished for the Carrie he’d walked away from, the Carrie who wasn’t satisfied until every vein he had was open and bleeding.
    “It’s a hell of a long shot, I know, and I’m courting disaster by pushing the issue, but I have to do this.” He waited, but still nothing. “Please. I’m begging you. I wouldn’t ask if I had anywhere else to turn, but you’re the only person I know brave enough to make the attempt.”
    That finally got her attention. She spun fast enough to send a frisson of fear down his spine, but slow enough that he knew she was in control of herself. Her gaze locked on his, and for what had to be the first time since they’d met, he had no idea what was going on in those oversized brown eyes. There were no hearts. No diamonds. Nothing to indicate she cared about him at all.
    The seriousness of what he’d done to cause this hit him in the solar plexus, but he didn’t have time to register the feeling before she spoke.
    “You think I’m brave,” she said flatly. “Not crazy?”
    “I never said—”
    “Not pushy?”
    “Carrie, I—”
    “Not a walking, talking disaster?”
    Dammit. He knew she’d overheard them last night. He couldn’t remember all the crap he’d said to Ace and Max, but she had to realize he’d been blowing hot air. He’d been a man in pain. A man pining. A man who couldn’t face the thought of being in a room with her without forgetting how to breathe.
    “Forgive me if I don’t fall prey to flattery right now,” she said. “It’s funny how all those things you hate about me become virtues when you want something.”
    “Of course I don’t hate you,” he said, his throat tight. After that kiss they’d shared in her entryway, was there any room for doubt? “But I understand if you hate me—in fact, at this point, it’s what I expect.”
    “Well, congratulations. Your expectations have been met. You win yet again.”
    He winced. “Then we’re agreed. Hate me. Yell at me. Call me all the names I deserve and a few more I’ll probably earn along the way. Do anything you want before and after the rescue mission, but consider what it means if you say no. Mara is—”
    He was at a sudden loss for words. An image of the dog flitted through his mind, but it wasn’t Mara’s affectionate exuberance that stood out the most—it was Carrie’s affectionate exuberance that took the forefront.
    He’d had a date with Carrie planned a few hours after he’d sent the animal off with her new handler. Even though he’d never once broken his vow not to cry over a dog’s departure, the urge never disappeared, and he’d tried to cancel on Carrie at the last minute. Which hadn’t worked, of course. She came over anyway.
    They’d only been seeing each other about a month at the time, but she’d somehow sensed that what he’d needed more than a romantic dinner for two—instead of even a fast, hard fuck—was a friend. He didn’t know how she knew that, but he would always be grateful for what came next. She’d stayed at his house all night and taught him how to juggle. They’d used oranges, dog chew toys, even sample-sized bottles of bourbon, which they’d done a good job of emptying as the lesson progressed.
    It had been a good day, despite his heartbreak. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten those two things could coexist.
    “Mara is what?” Carrie asked coldly, jolting him back to the present. “The only woman you’ve ever loved?”
    He opened his mouth to agree, to defend his feelings for the husky as the purest form of affection, but he couldn’t form his lips around the words—around the lie. She’s not the only one, Carrie.
    “I don’t think I can let her go without a fight,” he said, no longer sure it was the dog he was talking about. “Not again. I owe her that much.”
    He could tell the exact moment he broke through by the way Carrie