Free Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) by Stacy Finz Page A

and they slowly drove to his house, clearing snow as they went.
    “This is quite a storm,” she said.
    “This is nothing. Just a little autumn snow.” He looked over at her and squinted. “I’ve been wondering this whole time, are those pink flamingos?”
    She looked down at her flannel bottoms. “Yeah. So? What’s wrong with them?”
    “Nothing.” But even in the dim light of the truck she could tell he was smirking.
    “What do you sleep in that’s so great?”
    “Not pink flamingos,” he said, pressing the remote stuck to his visor to open the garage door.
    Max shot out of the truck, did his business and came trotting back in. Colin closed the garage and carried Harlee’s bags inside the house, switching on the light. Nice. It was toasty, too.
    He led her down a hallway into a spacious guest room with a rag rug, a big log bed, and a down comforter that looked so soft and comfy it would be a pleasure to crawl into.
    “This is beautiful,” she said. “Better than a hotel.”
    “You warm enough?”
    “Mm-hmm. Are you going to bed now?”
    He shrugged. “I might watch some TV.”
    “You mind if I join you?” It seemed too early to go sleep.
    “No,” he said, and Harlee couldn’t tell whether he was just being polite or if he wanted her company. The guy was such a damned enigma and possibly the most socially inept person she’d ever met. She still didn’t know why he wouldn’t go to dinner with her. What did he think? She’d jump him on the way to the restaurant?
    At least she didn’t have to worry about him making a pass at her.
    “I’ll be right out.” She wanted to clean up a bit. “The bathroom?”
    “Right in there.” He pointed to a door that she had assumed was a closet. Wow, an en suite setup. It really was like a hotel.
    “Great.”
    After Colin left her alone in the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, removed her snow boots, and rifled through her suitcase for her slippers. Good thing she’d left the matching pink flamingo ones at home and brought her Uggs. She’d never hear the end of it.
    In the bathroom, she unpacked her cosmetic bag, washed her face, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and spritzed on a drop of perfume. Why? She had no idea. She looked in the mirror to see if it was obvious that she didn’t have a bra on. Because who wears a bra under their pajamas? She decided to hell with it; she’d leave it off.
    Harlee found him in the living room building a roaring fire. He’d taken off his flannel and was wearing a green henley over his jeans. The man really did have about the best body she’d ever seen.
    “You turned off the lights.” She smiled to herself, noting all the lit candles. Maybe Colin wasn’t such a dud after all.
    “I don’t want to use up the generator. Who knows how long this power outage will last.”
    “Oh,” she said, a little embarrassed for imagining that he might’ve wanted to be romantic. “Want me to make hot chocolate?”
    “Uh, I don’t have chocolate.”
    “Okay. How ’bout tea?”
    “Don’t have that either.”
    Thinking three’s the charm, Harlee asked, “You have wine?”
    “I don’t drink,” he said, and scooted Max down the couch so he could have the arm. Harlee watched him stretch out his long legs. “There’s milk if you’re thirsty.”
    She went into the kitchen and checked the cupboards. Lots of canned soups, chili, and stews. In fact he had more treats for the dog than he did for himself. The refrigerator had a lot of leftovers, milk, and apple juice. “Hey, I can make hot apple cider,” she said.
    “Whatever you want.”
    She grabbed a pot off the rack hanging over the center island, poured in the juice, and put it on the stove top to boil. From the pantry she actually found allspice, cloves, and cinnamon sticks—odd, since Grizzly Adams didn’t seem like the baking type. And tossed that in, too. She grabbed an orange from a well-stocked fruit basket—at least he wouldn’t die of scurvy—and