She suddenly shoves a flashlight in my face.

“Here.”

“Point it down here,” I direct her and resign myself to sporting a hard-on while Jill “helps” me fix the furnace.

“Is the pilot light out?” she asks.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure why.” I’m not a mechanic—hell, neither is Josh—but I’m pretty handy. I tinker around but can’t find anything obviously wrong; nor can I get the pilot light lit, no matter what I try. “Damn,” I mutter.

“What?”

“I think your thermocouple needs to be replaced.”

“Oh.” She pats her hips where pockets would be and looks around. “I don’t have a thermonuclear thingamabob on me right now.”

“You have no idea what I’m talking about,” I say with a laugh.

“You would be right.”

“It means that it can’t be fixed tonight.”

Her shoulders sag in defeat, and I have to fight the desire to pull her into my arms and reassure her that it’s all going to be okay.

“Go ahead and pack a bag,” I murmur.

“Where am I going?” she asks with a frown.

“Jill, it’s about fifty degrees in here. You can’t stay here all night.”

“I’m sure I can borrow an electric heater from someone,” she replies.

“You’ll be safer in a hotel. Just pack a bag and I’ll follow you over there.”

She shakes her head and looks like she’s on the verge of tears, sending panic through me.

“I don’t think my car will make it to the hotel,” she replies softly.

“Why not?”

“I never had studded tires put on it.” She shrugs with frustration. “I didn’t have time, and then this storm hit. It took me almost an hour to make my way off the mountain this afternoon, then Max hit me at the bottom, and I slid most of my way home from there.”

My heart stills at the mention of someone running into her. “Who hit you?”

“Max Hull is in town, and he took the corner too fast and clipped my back fender. It’s a tiny dent. Ty can pull it out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your car, Jilly. Are you okay?” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight, her arms trapped between us. I can feel her trembling, and whether it’s from the cold or being in my arms, I’m not sure. I press my lips to her head and breathe in her fresh lilac scent. I rub my hands up and down the quilt covering her back, trying to soothe her.

“I’m fine. He barely hit me.” She pulls away all too soon, and I’m left feeling . . . empty.

“We’ve been telling you for the last two months to replace those tires,” I remind her.

“Yeah, well, now you can say ‘I told you so.’ ” She rolls her eyes and marches away from me, grabbing her phone from off the couch.

“Who are you calling?”

“I’m going to see if I can borrow an electric heater.”

“Just pack the bag, Jill. I’ll take you to the ranch.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Leaving you here in this house with no heat in this storm is not an option, Jillian. I’m taking you to the ranch. Grab your shit and let’s go.” I shove my hands into my pockets and glower at her, daring her to argue.

“Why are you so bossy? Just because you bossed people around in the army doesn’t mean you can boss everyone else.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh deeply. “Jesus, you are the most infuriating, obstinate woman I’ve ever met.”

“I doubt that’s true.” She sniffs and tugs the quilt more tightly around her.

“Please,” I begin again, as patiently as I can, “pack some clothes and let me take you to the ranch. Everyone would feel better if we know you’re safe.”

She bites her lip and finally nods. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” I say in exasperation and take my tools out to the truck. Sure enough, I can’t even see the paths I shoveled earlier.

When I stomp back into the house, Jill has a duffel bag set by the door and is shoving her computer into a briefcase. She’s wearing sweats and a big, warm hoodie. She’s got her black-rimmed glasses on now. “I’m almost ready.”

“That was quick.”

“I won’t need much.” When she’s gathered all her papers and pulled on her coat, she turns and looks expectantly at me, and all the breath leaves my body.

God, she’s gorgeous.

She bites that pouty, pink lower lip, her blue eyes wide as she peers at me through her glasses. She looks vulnerable and small, and I want to scoop her up and protect her from everything.

“Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other all night? We’ll die from hypothermia.”

“Funny.” I take her bags and follow her out to my crew-cab Ford, stow her things in the backseat, and start the engine.

“Could you have bought a taller truck?” she asks as she pulls herself up into the cab. “I need a stepladder to get into this thing.”

“I don’t drive many short people around,” I reply with a smile.

“Seth is short.”

“Seth hops in without a problem.”

“I’m not a twelve-year-old boy,” she reminds me and rubs her hands together briskly to warm them up.