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reached out and grabbed her poncho, shirt and bra strap and what felt like part of her breast, and hauled her in. She was still bouncing in the seat when he reached across her and slammed the door shut against the push of the wind.
     
     
     
    The raging storm and the throaty idle of the truck’s engine were shut out with the slamming of the door. Quinn Kingfisher watched Mia Flowers warily as she sat beside him, looking too stunned to take the lumber to him for inadvertently copping a feel. Not that he could feel much of anything with thick winter gloves on, but still, every man-nerve in his body had told him that he’d momentarily had a hold of a very delicate, very feminine rounded, lush breast.
    Damn.
    “You okay?” To distract himself from the growing heaviness low in his gut, he messed with the air vents until they faced her, then turned the heat on to max. “That’s some wind, huh?”
    “That’s n-not n-normal c-c-cold.” Her teeth chattered so hard it was a wonder those ice-blue eyes of hers didn’t rattle right out of their sockets. “I know w-what n-normal cold is, and th-that’s n-not it.”
    “Welcome to Montana. Not that you actually planned on coming here, but now that you are, you’re getting a big-ass dose of it.” Twisting around, he reached into the back seat and brought a bundle forward to plop it in her lap. “Put this on, then get your hands up by the vents. I want to make sure your fingers stay nice and frostbite-free.”
    Clumsily she huddled into the red and black-checked hunter’s jacket. He saw her wince at the coldness of the jacket’s inner lining, but she didn’t offer up a peep of complaint. “W-Where’d you g-get this?”
    “It’s always smart to keep extra coats and blankets in the car in case something happens and you find yourself stranded. Buckle up and get your hands into the warm air,” he went on once she’d settled into the jacket that swallowed up her smaller frame. Again she didn’t complain about the oversized fit of the jacket as she followed his instructions, and it had him studying her curiously. If it had been Lorette sitting there, she would’ve already bitched him out nine ways to Sunday, then worked up some of those ever-present crocodile tears to make him feel like shit if he’d so much as said boo to her. God, he hated fucking tears. There was no defense against them if a woman was bound and determined to wield them like battle axes.
    Then he shook his head. Why the hell was he thinking of his ex now, of all times? Two years ago Lorette had dropped herself out of his life, along with a huge portion of his family. They were gone, long gone, and he was more than happy for them to stay that way. He was an idiot for wasting another second thinking about any of them, especially Lorette the Weeper.
    The tips of Mia’s fingers edged out of the jacket’s cuffs, and she held them up to the vents like it was a warm, crackling fire. Her sigh of relief was audible, and just about the sexiest thing he’d heard in a long while.
    “Better?”
    She glanced over the edge of the collar at him as though startled he was still there. “Yes, thank you.”
    Her polite response was off-the-charts adorable, and he had to shake his head at it as he put the truck into gear. “Next stop in Mia’s continuing adventures—the airport Hilton.”
    “Just think,” she muttered into the collar. “I could have gotten a good night’s sleep if I’d just been allowed to go my own way. I’d be asleep right now, safe and warm in a bed just a few yards from where we’d been forced to land.”
    “I know, Red.” Turning on all the lights his truck had to help see through the storm, Quinn paused to glance at her and couldn’t help but feel a stirring of sympathy at the exhaustion hovering around her pale eyes. “I probably would’ve decked that flight attendant when the captain said you were going back to where you’d wanted to be in the first place. I thought you were