Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set by Stacey Joy Netzel Page A

me say stupid things.
    “What’s it been, like…?”
    “Ten years,” she supplied with just the
slightest hint of sarcasm.
    “Yeah. Wow.” I forced my gaze back to hers.
“You look great.”
    “Thanks.”
    I wasn’t lying to be nice.
Summer had always been pretty and she’d improved over the past ten
years. She wasn’t supermodel gorgeous, but truthfully, that was her
appeal. Hazel eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. Light makeup
enhanced her features and shiny gloss highlighted her lips.
Beautiful yet approachable… if one didn’t have a huge, stupid mistake hanging
over his idiot head.
    Not sure how long I stared before I noticed
her shiver. I wore a flannel jacket, but she sat there in a
sleeveless dress, in her ditched rental car, with wet snowflakes
whirling through the open window.
    I gave myself a mental shake and
wondered…could this be my one shot at redemption?
    “I was just on my way home to change,” I
told her before doubt could set in. “If you don’t mind waiting at
my house for a few minutes, we can go to the reunion together and
Dave can have your car towed right to the supper club. You remember
Dave Bensen, right?”
    She nodded and leaned closer to the window.
Her muddy tire tracks were turning white again, a good incentive to
get moving. Though I figured her agreement was for the question
about Dave, I grabbed the handle of her door and pulled it open as
if she’d said yes to coming home with me.
    I held my breath when she hesitated.
Finally, she lifted her purse from the passenger seat and extended
one leg out of the rental. The long expanse of bare skin distracted
me enough that I almost messed up again. Luckily I caught sight of
her little black sandals just before she planted her painted toes
in the mud.
    “Whoa, hold up.”
    Only a jerk would let a woman walk through
muck in shoes like that—and I was done being a jerk. I leaned down
into the car to scoop her up. She drew back with a sharp breath,
but I went all in.
    “Hang on.”
    With one arm under her knees and the other
behind her back, I shifted my balance to lift with my knees. She
made a grab for my shoulders, nearly throwing me backwards onto my
ass.
    “What are you doing?” she demanded in a
high-pitched voice.
    Once I’d gained my footing and stood
straight, I gave her a grin. “You can’t walk through the mud in
those shoes.”
    She didn’t say another word, but she didn’t
protest, either. I took that as a good sign. Coming up with
something to say on the way to my truck was impossible with her in
my arms. She wasn’t skin and bones, nor was she heavy. No, she was
just about perfect. The wind swept her spicy-sweet scent past my
nose and whipped her long, dark hair across my face.
    Man, I should’ve thought this through for
more than a second. Heat built with each increased beat of my
pulse, every breath I took. Snowflakes melted on my face so fast I
half expected the moisture to turn into steam and my grip tightened
as I fought the urge to rub my fingers along the soft skin of her
legs.
    There you go…make up for
the Snowball dance with sexual harassment.
Jackass .
    I helped her inside my truck before quickly
shutting the door on my lusty thoughts. A quick trip back across
the road netted her coat and then I locked up her car. Dave’s shop
was on the way to the reunion location, so we could drop off the
keys on the way.
    One deep breath fortified me to face the
temptation in my truck. Once behind the wheel, I started the engine
and reached to shift into first. It hit me how surreal my current
situation was and I paused to cast a bemused, sideways look at my
passenger.
    “Summer Clark.”
    She lifted her eyebrows and smiled. “Josh
Nelsen.”
    Smiled . Why hadn’t she told me to go to hell the moment she saw me?
Now or the day after the Snowball dance? The coward in me stuffed
those questions down my throat as I checked my mirrors before
pulling out onto the highway. It was only a few miles to my house,
so