dinner, they tidied up the kitchen together, but when Corey suggested that he should head out, Erin was the one to protest. She wanted to know if Leia succeeded in rescuing Han, to which Corey reminded her that the movie was about a lot more than a romantic subplot. But, of course, he put the third movie on.
It was late by the time he finally said good-night, and several inches of snow had fallen. Erin cringed at the sight of the white stuff covering her car and her driveway, but she decided to ignore it until the morning. Corey wouldn’t hear of it though and, after locating a shovel in the garage, insisted on clearing her steps and driveway. Although she appreciated not having to do it herself, she wasn’t sure how she felt about his insistence on taking charge.
Not that she was really surprised—she’d instinctively known that he was the type of man who liked to be in control of any situation—but she didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t take care of herself. She prided herself on her self-sufficiency and independence. She didn’t really want to battle with him over clearing snow, but she wanted him to know that she was capable. However, as she watched Corey clear her driveway, effortlessly tossing shovels full of snow aside, she had to admit that there were worse things than having a strong, handsome man around to perform such chores.
When he finished shoveling, she invited him to come back inside for a cup of hot chocolate to warm him up. He declined the drink but did come back inside to kiss her goodbye, and she couldn’t deny that the heat they generated between them was—
She jolted as his ice cold hands slipped under her sweater and splayed against the bare skin of her back. Corey laughed and reached for her again, but she stepped away.
The wicked light in his eyes made her heart pound with anticipation; the sexy curve of his lips made her knees weak. She dodged around to the other side of the table, he feinted to the right and caught her when she turned in the opposite direction.
They were both laughing when her cell phone chimed.
Corey frowned. “Who would be calling at this hour?”
“It’s a text,” she said, reaching for the phone to check the message. “From Grant.”
His hands dropped away and he reached for the jacket he’d hung over the back of a chair.
“Carrie called in sick for tomorrow, so he just wanted to give Trina and me the heads-up that we’ll be on our own,” she explained.
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