Arctic Heat_Frozen Hearts by Annabeth Albert

Author:Annabeth Albert [Albert, Annabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2019-09-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“I’m telling you that scratch wasn’t there when we pulled in.” The jacked-up yahoo in a red parka with a shiny black truck that cost more than Quill’s annual salary continued to stare at the other idiot, the one currently lurking behind Quill, seeming happy to let him be in the middle of this little pissing contest in the lower parking lot.

“And I’m telling you that you’re not going to fight on my watch.” Quill stared down Mr. Muscles. He might be bigger than Quill, but Quill had no doubt that he could take him if it came to that. “Moving along would be the smart choice. Leave me some contact info for the incident report, and I’ll send it on, and you can use it for your insurance if it comes to that.”

Quill hated incident reports almost as much as he hated drama and confrontations, and having had both in the same day had him beyond cranky even once the arguing men finally headed out. Funny how it wasn’t the men’s size or volatility that got to Quill as much as those loud voices. Hell, let them throw a punch. Quill would have them in cuffs on the snowy ground before a second happened. But raised voices arguing? Made his stomach hurt and neck ache and made him in no way fit for company after his patrol.

The short days meant darkness was coming, light already rapidly fading, and underscored his exhaustion from the long holiday weekend. Monday was supposed to have been a respite from the chaos, but instead tourist traffic had remained higher than normal, people seeking one more day of fun and trying to outrun the big snowstorm scheduled for midweek, and he’d had all his usual end-of-the-month paperwork to worry about as well. The last thing he’d needed was this confrontation. He stowed the snowmachine, angry voices still ringing in his ears, revving his adrenaline.

As he entered the visitor center, he was tempted to stay downstairs, hide out in his office. He had the excuse of the need to file the incident report, but that wasn’t what had him hesitating. It was late enough that Owen was almost certainly upstairs, and he was more than astute enough to pick up on Quill’s bad mood. He’d want to talk, and Quill just wasn’t up for conversation right then. But as he peeled off his snow boots and gear and stowed his piece in the safe, a pleasing aroma wafted down the steps—cinnamon and yeasty with an undercurrent of something savory as well. The hastily put-together sandwich he’d had midmorning seemed a lifetime ago, and his stomach won out over his better sense as he climbed upstairs with heavy feet.

The good smells got stronger after he opened the door, but instead of Owen at the stove, he discovered Owen on a stool, attaching lights to the doorframe that led to the little hall.

“What the heck are you doing?” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended, hours of frustration seeping in.

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