Hard to Handle by Lori Foster

sorry.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.”
    He was so cavalier, but how could she not worry? Removing a glove, she brushed at the snow clinging to him, put a hand to his jaw. He had beard shadow coming in, and his skin was cold. “Are you okay?”
    â€œYeah.” Distracted, he brought her palm to his mouth and kissed it, then released her as if the intimate touch hadn’t happened at all.
    Stasia sat in stupefied silence while he checked both guns, set them in the cup holders, and reached past her to the glove department. “I need you to carry a few things. Can you do that?”
    Before she could reply, he dropped a slim flashlight, a vehicle registration, and a proof of insurance card into her lap.
    â€œOkay, sure.” She tried to be as calm as him. “Why do you need your proof of insurance card?”
    â€œI don’t want to leave any ID behind in case the Jeep gets ransacked.”
    That made sense. Good thing one of them was still able to think straight. “Where do you want me to carry this stuff?”
    â€œWe’re not close enough to your cabin to make it there, and I don’t trust those guys not to return. If they want to find you, the first place they’ll look is where you live.”
    She agreed. “So where do we go? We can’t walk all the way back to town.” Then she held up a hand. “Or I should say, I can’t. You seem impervious to the weather, so I have no idea what you can do.”
    Ignoring most of what she said, Harley moved and spoke quickly, turning off the Jeep and stowing the guns in his waistband beneath his shirts. “We passed that station a little ways back. It’s dark there, so they might not have noticed it. I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t pointed it out as Ned’s.” He pocketed the keys and opened his door. “Stow that stuff in your pockets and get ready to roll.”
    â€œYou don’t have a coat.”
    â€œI know.”
    When Harley got out of the Jeep, Stasia pulled her glove back on and followed. The Jeep had a generous cargo area. It was packed with luggage and various pieces of athletic equipment. He dug out two hooded sweatshirts, pulled one over his head and handed the other to her. “Hang on to that. You might want it later.”
    After retrieving one small satchel, he moved the rest of the luggage aside and pulled a storage crate forward.
    It amazed her to see him retrieve duct tape, a first-aid kit, flares, a multiheaded screwdriver, and a space blanket out of the crate.
    â€œYou travel prepared.”
    â€œAlways.” Loaded down, he locked the Jeep and then hauled her close to his side. He draped the blanket around them both. “We’ll share body heat. Try to move quickly. I want to be inside the station before the goons get brave and make another pass at us.”
    â€œNed keeps it locked up.”
    â€œDon’t worry. It’s not a problem.”
    Of course not. Nothing was a problem for Harley Handleman, hero at large. While she was badly shaken, he took it all in stride. With her pockets filled and the sweatshirt hugged against her chest, she trudged along with him.
    She didn’t ask him how he expected to get inside; she simply trusted that he would.

    W HEN the shadowy exterior of the garage came into view, Harley hugged Anastasia a little closer. “Almost there.”
    She didn’t reply. He knew the cold had taken its toll on her, but he didn’t know what to do about it. The wind cut like a knife and if he didn’t get them indoors soon, she might get too depleted to make it on her own.
    For one brief moment, he considered carrying her, but one look at her staunch, determined expression, and he knew Anastasia wouldn’t allow it. She doggedly put one foot in front of the other, keeping pace with him even though her legs were much shorter, and not nearly as thick with muscle.
    He admired her, damn it.
    Remembering how