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he spoke, he stirred her coffee, then slid it toward her. “Give that a try, see if you like it.”
    “Thank you.” The words seemed so inadequate in expressing her gratitude to this man who was so obviously going above and beyond the call of duty that her tired, scratchy eyes burned with wetness. “Thank you so much.”
    “Don’t cry.” Again his tone became alarmingly hard and he was close enough to feel his body stiffen. “Don’t you fucking cry, Mia. Look, food’s here, so concentrate on that and just… don’t cry.”
    She didn’t answer as steaming plates of golden waffles with mounds of melted butter and crispy, still-sizzling strips of bacon appeared before her, mainly because two basic needs had shut down her brain. She was starving and needed to eat, yes, but she also wanted to cry. She wanted to let it all out and just freaking bawl . Every cell in her body quivered with bone-breaking tiredness, and on top of that she was swamped with the fierce frustration of not being where she wanted— needed —to be. While she sat there in the middle of nowhere, Jackson was living it up in beautiful, non-stormy Seattle without her and posting pictures designed to make her think terrible things. Wrong things.
    Heartbreaking things.
    Anyone would have been crying if they’d been in her shoes.
    “Mia.” A hand came down to grip the nape of her neck. Warm. Solid. Strong. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to enjoy this stranger’s touch as much as she did, but she was too exhausted to fight anything that felt that good in a world that held no comfort. “Eat.”
    Nodding mutely, she grabbed up her fork and stared at the waffle. It was too much trouble to cut. Maybe it would be okay just this once if she ate it with her fingers…
    “Don’t wimp out on me now.” He poured on a small ocean of maple syrup over the waffle before his hand engulfed hers still holding the fork, and began cutting it up. “The pancakes here are okay, but the waffles are the total shit. Seriously, I don’t know how they do it, but they’ve got this great buttery, crunchy outside but they’re still really light on the inside. One taste and you’ll see why this place’ll be packed a couple hours from now despite the sixty-below temp outside.” With that, he guided her hand holding the fork to her mouth.
    Heaven.
    “Good, right?”
    She moaned and closed her eyes, and she didn’t give a hoot if the sound she made was inappropriate. It was seriously that good. “Oh my God, yes .”
    “Damn, woman. Do that again.” He helped her shovel in another bite. Maybe it was the fatigue, but it seemed like the heat of his hand at her nape and the leg that was against hers intensified to the point of making her feel feverish. “Let me know you like it.”
    Eyes still closed, she sighed as she savored the bite. “I love it.”
    “Yeah, you do. You know you do.”
    “More.”
    “I’ll give you more. So much you can’t handle it.”
    “Trust me, I can handle it.” Slowly Mia’s eyes opened as she ate another bite, and with the nutrients hitting her zapped system it dawned on her that their hushed conversation, in a different context between two complete strangers, should have been pretty damn creepy. Or maybe that was just her brain seeing things that weren’t there.
    No.
    It wasn’t that she was seeing things.
    She was being totally creepy.
    Ugh.
    “On second thought, maybe I should slow down. If I eat too fast I’ll just wind up making myself sick.”
    “Yeah. Right. Good thinking.” The hand at her nape went away, as did his guiding hand on hers. Without warning, she was once again aware of the cold seeping in from outside. He pulled his own waffle toward him, dumped a healthy slug of syrup on it and dug in. “I think you’re going to like the bacon, too. Organically raised and cured by Khrys’s uncle. You won’t find any better.”
    “Wow.” She breathed in the salty, smoky flavor while her mouth watered. “Do they