Ivie ducked his eyes and focused on her twisting fingers. As her mind went blank and her heart thundered, she had an impulse to run out of the room. But then an image changed her mind. She saw her father, standing out in the cold from the night before, his feet planted in the snow, his huge muscled arms bare to the frigid night air, his head up and shoulders back as if he were prepared to bull’s rush anything and everything in his path. That was her oak, that male. And she was his daughter, damn it.
