“I’ll give you a lift to my truck.”

“But I need to get my stuff.”

“I’ll come back for it.”

Even though she wanted to dislike him for defending the moose over her car, she had to admit he was being sort of helpful—and condescendingly sanctimonious. She couldn’t forget that.

“Fine.” She unzipped the second boot and tried not to think about abandoning their soft loveliness to the Vermont mud bath.

“Ready?” He squatted before her, and Cameron stepped out of the boots and slid onto him piggyback style. A whoosh of air escaped her lungs as he lifted her effortlessly, as if she were a bag of flour rather than a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound woman. He deposited her into the front seat of his toasty warm truck with the finesse of a flour bag landing on the floor of a bakery. “Sorry,” he muttered after the hard landing.

“No problem.” Like heat-seeking missiles, her feet headed for the warm air coming from under the dashboard of the relatively new truck. It still had that smell. How would he feel if Fred crushed in the front of it?

Before she could pose the question, he said, “What do you need from the car?”

She looked up at him, lit by the overhead light in the truck’s cab, and her breath caught in her lungs. Arresting hadn’t been the right word to describe his face. He was beautiful. Prominent cheekbones and lush lashes and full lips that made her want to drool, even though they were flat with annoyance directed at her. His strong jaw was sprinkled with the perfect amount of stubble, just the way a male jaw should look. Since he was wearing a knitted cap, she couldn’t tell what color his hair was but she was picturing light brown based on the color of his brows. Releasing a long leisurely sigh, she realized she was staring at him.

“Any day now,” he said, snapping her out of the dream state she’d slipped into.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I need my purse, phone, GPS and both suitcases from the trunk.”

“Anything else, Your Highness?”

“What? You asked.”

“Stay put.” He stalked off into the darkness, leaving Cameron to fume at his surly disposition. Of course it was just her luck that he had the face of an angel and the personality of Ralph Kramden. Looking around the neat interior of the truck, she was relieved to find no sign of an axe or chain saw.

Her suitcases landed with a loud thud in the back of the truck a few minutes later. He got in and thrust her purse and electronics at her.

Cameron caught the items with an awkward juggle, and automatically clicked on her phone to check her messages. Still no service. She moaned. “Come on!”

“That thing won’t do you much good up here,” he said with that disdainful tone she was coming to expect from him.