Read A Rare Gift for Free Online Page B

feet and ankles stung from the cold.
    She should have handed him his hat and gloves back. The temperatures had dropped outside and he was doing the work bare-handed and without a hat. He must be freezing.
    He climbed back in and looked at her. “Put your seatbelt on.”
    She did, noting his red hands. “You should have taken my gloves.”
    “I’m fine. I’m used to working outside in all kinds of weather.”
    He put the car in gear and pulled carefully away from the curb. The truck tried to fishtail, but Wyatt controlled it. The roads were hazardous, the snow thick and coming down so hard that even the windshield wipers on full blast couldn’t clear the whiteout conditions enough to see clearly.
    Calliope sat quietly and let Wyatt concentrate on the road. He made the right turn and headed down the narrow street. She was glad her house was only a couple blocks from the center, and even making it that far was treacherous driving. There were no other cars on the road. This was a bad storm. He pulled into her driveway and she was glad it wasn’t uphill.
    “Got your keys ready?” he asked when he turned the engine off.
    She’d already tugged the gloves off and handed them back to Wyatt. “In my hand.”
    Wyatt snagged the keys from her. “I’ll open the door. You put the gloves back on. And don’t get out of the car until I come over to your side to get you. You don’t have boots on.”
    “You’re coming in with me, aren’t you? The roads are really bad out there.”
    He gave her one of those “You’re kidding me, right?” looks that guys gave women sometimes when women thought men couldn’t do something—like climb a mountain. “My truck is four-wheel drive. I can make it.”
    But she’d still worry like crazy about him being on the road. “I’ll make soup.”
    “You’re on.”
    She grinned and waited for him to come around and open the door for her, instantly shivering again as the cold blast of air, sleet and snow smacked her body. They made a mad dash for her front door—as much of a dash as two people could make in snow that deep. Wyatt unlocked the door and they rushed inside. He pushed the door shut and locked it.
    She shuddered against the cold and stripped off the hat and her coat, then toed out of her soaked tennis shoes. “I need to change clothes.”
    Wyatt stood on her front hall rug and did his best impression of a snowman. “I’m just going to stand here and defrost.”
    She laughed. “You are not. Take your coat off and come into the kitchen. After I change clothes I’ll make us some coffee and get started on that soup.”
    She ran into her bedroom and pulled off her wet clothes, grabbed some sweats and dry socks, then made a quick stop in the bathroom to check herself in the mirror.
    Oh, ugh. She cleaned the wet spots off her glasses, but otherwise there wasn’t much hope for her wet hair, and she didn’t think Wyatt would appreciate her taking the time to shower and put on some makeup. He likely wanted some coffee and homemade soup, not a glamour girl.
    She fluffed her wet curls as best as she could, stuck her feet into slippers and went into the kitchen.
    She inhaled when she walked in. “I smell coffee.”
    “I raided your cabinets and made myself at home.”
    Her stomach flipped in a decidedly warm way. “I’m glad. Sorry it took me so long.”
    “It didn’t. I don’t think you need to wait on me when I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of coffee.”
    He poured her a cup. She reached into the fridge. “Cream?”
    “Yeah.”
    “How about sugar?”
    “No, thanks.”
    She grabbed the sugar bowl on the kitchen table and scooped a spoonful into her cup, stirred and watched him.
    There were never men in her kitchen. She dated on occasion, but never invited them home and sure as hell didn’t have them in her kitchen making coffee for her.
    Seeing Wyatt, his tall, lean body relaxing against her counters, was a little disconcerting. He was so big and her kitchen was