by J. H. Croix
As she slowed once we reached Willow Brook, I glanced around. Although the snow was still falling steadily, the town was busy. The lights of the shops glowed through the gray afternoon. Holiday lights glittered through the snow where they were strong on the streetlights and shop fronts. It was a cute little town, with the Alaska Range as its backdrop in one direction and the ocean in the distance in the other.
Even through the snowfall, I could see the mountains looming, the jagged ridges and peaks rising above. I’d traveled up to Alaska a few times since Owen had relocated Off the Grid here. Though I hadn’t seen all of the state, I was quite aware that most of the small towns here catered to tourists. Willow Brook was no exception, with cute storefronts and lots of retail shops mixed in with restaurants. Like Diamond Creek, where Owen and Ivy lived, I expected it was quieter in the winter, perhaps even more here because there was no ski lodge.
The roads here were clear, more so than the highway. I imagined the town’s road crew stayed busy with their plow trucks all through the winter. Harlow drove straight through town, pulling into a building at the far end of the main street. The sign—Willow Brook Fire & Rescue—was barely visible with the snow coating it.
When I tossed my bags in the back, I’d noticed the back of her truck was full. As soon as she turned off the engine, she glanced to me. “You can wait, or you can come in.”
“I’ll come in.”
Curiosity led the way when it came to Harlow. I knew, quite obviously, that this was the station where her crew was housed. I was curious to see a little bit more of her life. This should have given me pause, but then, I was breaking unspoken rules up, down, and sideways when it came to her.
Following her in, we stepped into a reception area, where a woman with a riot of brown curls and wide brown eyes smiled the moment she looked up.
“Harlow! You’re back. Ward was just saying he wondered if you had the new engine block with you.”
“Of course I do,” Harlow replied as she strode across the room.
She was dressed in jeans and hiking boots with a fitted blue jersey shirt. Of course, what I had noticed this morning was the fact that her shirt unbuttoned just far enough that I was tempted to drag my tongue through the valley between her breasts.
I’d never paid much attention to what women wore. I was fairly certain Harlow could wear an actual brown sack, and I would find it sexy. She was that delectable. Her glossy dark hair was up in a ponytail, swinging between her shoulder blades.
She stopped at the counter surrounding the woman, leaning her elbows on it. “Is Ward busy?”
The woman nodded before her eyes flicked to me, blatant curiosity contained in her gaze. She didn’t hold back. “Who are you? I’m Maisie.”
With her round cheeks, her wide eyes, and a smattering of freckles, she was so adorable, it was impossible not to smile in return.
“I’m Max,” I replied, reaching my hand across the counter. She looked surprised by that, but shook my hand rather vigorously.
“If you’re a friend of Harlow’s, you’re a friend of mine. I didn’t know you were bringing company,” Maisie said, as she looked back to Harlow.
I felt Harlow’s gaze on me and turned to her, winking. I wanted to tease her, and I didn’t know why. Her espresso gaze darkened slightly and a flush crested on her cheeks.
Maisie opened her mouth to say something else when a door to the side of the reception desk opened. A tall, lanky man stepped through, his green gaze flicking from me to Harlow, and then to Maisie. Stepping behind the desk, he leaned down and kissed Maisie.
By the time he pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and she rolled her eyes, pushing him away. “Good grief. I’m working.”
The man looked to me. “Beck Steele,” he said with a wink and a sly grin cast in Maisie’s direction.
“Max Channing,” I replied.
I sensed I was being assessed. I was just relieved it was clear this man was paired with Maisie. Ridiculous as it may have been, simply the sight of another man around Harlow sent a jolt of possessiveness through me. At some point, my sanity would kick in, but not just yet.
“Max is a friend of mine,” Harlow added.
Oh, this friend bit was going to get to me. Not that I knew what my place was in Harlow’s life, but “friend” didn’t seem a satisfactory explanation. However, I knew a real quick way to piss her off would be to correct that publicly.
At this point, I should’ve been wondering what the hell I was thinking. But my common sense had fled the building, it seemed. My cock was driving this boat, and it said that Harlow was far more than a friend.
“You need some help getting that engine block in here?” Beck asked, looking to Harlow.
“I sure can’t carry it myself,” Harlow retorted with a grin.
“Pull around back,” Beck replied.
“I can drive around back,” I said, not even thinking whether that would be okay with Harlow.
She raised a brow slightly, but surprised me by simply handing over the keys. Within a minute or two, I had pulled her truck around to the back of the station, where I found her standing with Beck and several other men as the garage door rolled up.
Side note: I hadn’t considered that her job as a hotshot firefighter essentially meant she was surrounded by rugged, strong men all day. I wasn’t sure I liked that idea so much.
Dude, pump the brakes. Since when were you possessive?
Since Harlow was mine. My mental reply was swift.
Truth be told, I knew part of the driving force for me with Harlow was lust, but there was another deeper force layered under that, one I wasn’t quite ready to examine.
Figuring it was the sensible thing to do, and knowing my dad would’ve kicked my ass at his garage if I didn’t, I backed the truck into the garage, rolling the window down to call out and ask how far they wanted me to go. I recognized Beck’s voice when he replied, and followed his hand signals in the rear view mirror, stopping when he indicated.
Harlow was already opening the back of the truck and pointing to what I gathered was an engine block. It was no wonder she had good traction on the slick roads with the weight of it in the back. I didn’t grow up around a mechanic to be oblivious to the weight of an engine block.
Beck had stepped in, along with another man who had black hair and silvery gray eyes. His gaze cut to me. “Ward,” he said, simply nudging his chin up.
“Max. You guys need some help?”
“Sure thing, there’s only three of us, and this thing weighs a fucking ton,” Beck said with a wry smile.
Another man approaching caught my eyes. “I’m Jesse, by the way.”
“Max,” I repeated.
“I can help,” Harlow said, stepping to the back of the truck’s tailgate.
Ward looked from her to me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Harlow. I know you can handle yourself at a fire as well as any of us, but this is brute strength. Max is stronger.”
Harlow rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue and stepped back. With Beck and Jesse lifting on one side, and Ward and I on the other, we carefully moved the engine block out of her truck onto a heavy-duty steel table right beside it.
“Thanks, man,” Ward replied, as we all collectively stepped back. Ward looked to Harlow. “And thanks for picking this up. We need it for one of the old brush trucks. Change of plans, by the way. You’re off for the rest of the week.”
“Oh, why?” Harlow asked quickly.
“We changed up the rotation because I need time off for the holidays, so Beck’s crew is covering. Enjoy it. Looks like you’ve got company anyway.”
I didn’t know why, but it was clear this bothered Harlow. She didn’t say anything though and just shrugged. “Okay.”
“What brings you here?” Jesse asked conversationally.
“He’s a friend of Harlow’s,” Beck explained.
I might’ve known Beck for a whopping total of five minutes at best, but even I could sense the sly tone
in his voice and see the gleam in his eyes. No doubt he was a perceptive man and had picked up on the electricity zinging between Harlow and me.
“You should join us tonight,” Jesse added.
“For what?” Harlow asked, her eyes bouncing to him.
“Dinner at Wildlands. It’s Em’s birthday tomorrow, so she’d love for you to be there,” he explained.
Whether Harlow would’ve wanted me to go or not, I sensed she felt cornered. She nodded though, which surprised me a bit.
“Of course we’ll be there for Em’s birthday. What time?”
“Six o’clock.”
Harlow nodded and turned to climb in her truck, pausing when she reached in her pocket. Turning to me, she held out her hand, and I tossed the keys over.
“We’ll see you guys later,” she called over her shoulder.
“Nice to meet everyone. Sounds like I’ll be seeing you later,” I said, casting my gaze around.
Beck winked, Ward nodded, and Jesse grinned. I almost laughed. Even though my territorial urge was pulsing right under my skin, I didn’t sense any of these guys had a thing for Harlow. I didn’t care to contemplate how fucking insane it was that I was even thinking like that. Only one word came to mind when I thought of Harlow.
Mine.
Chapter Twenty
Harlow
When I rolled my truck to a stop in front of the house, I experienced a flash of uncertainty. I kicked it away, reminding myself that while Max might have money now, I’d since learned he hadn’t been raised with it. In fact, his childhood had certainly been more simple than mine. I didn’t need to wonder what he might think about my small home here in Willow Brook.
Snow was piled high on the steps and porch, and I glanced over to see Max looking curiously around the yard. The snow had slowed its pace enough that some of the yard was visible. The cabin I’d rented from Susannah was a small A-frame. It was fairly new and had purple trim and a bright green roof, which stood out in the snowy landscape. It sat in a small clearing, with spruce trees, cottonwood, and birch scattered about the clearing and then thickening into the wilderness behind the house.
From the front of the home, the mountains were visible in the distance, their peaks looming above the tree line. Max’s gaze circled back to me. “I’ll help shovel,” he said.
I didn’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. A surprised laugh escaped. “No need.”
He opened his door, climbing out quickly. I followed and caught his reply. “I’m not going to just stand around while you do it,” he called over his shoulder.
Fetching our bags out of the back of the truck, Max walked with me to the house. The sound of our footsteps was muted through the snow as we walked onto the porch. Since I’d left yesterday, a good foot of snow had fallen. Stepping through the side door into the kitchen, I knocked the snow off my boots and tossed my bag on the floor while Max did the same. I snagged a pair of gloves out of a little basket on a table by the door, intending to take care of clearing the steps right away.
Just when I thought Max wouldn’t be able to help me shovel because I couldn’t imagine he had gloves, he reached into his bag and took a pair out, snagging a hat in the process.
When he caught me looking his way, he winked. “You know, this isn’t my first time in Alaska. Plus, I plan to do some skiing while I’m here.”
Tugging his gloves on, he followed me back outside. I handed him a shovel, and he got right to work. Inside of a few minutes, he’d cleared the snow from the deck and steps, while I shoveled a path to the parking area. I had a plow guy who would likely come by sometime this evening to take care of the driveway. Fortunately, my four-wheel drive truck could make it through the snow that had fallen so far.
Once we returned inside, I quickly showed him around. “I rent this place,” I offered by way of explanation as I circled my arm around the downstairs. When I started to walk up the stairs, Max snagged our bags without me even asking.
I didn’t know what to think of any of this. I felt as if I was suspended in time. Of all the men I would’ve expected to want to spend time in Willow Brook with me, Max Channing might’ve been dead last on that list.
Not that there was anyone on that list, to be honest. I had no idea what to make of his presence here. It felt as if everything with us was like a ball rolling down a hill. I didn’t know where it was going to bounce, or what was going to happen. The momentum of it just kept pushing me forward.
I showed him the guest room and bathroom first before moving to my bedroom. Stepping through the door, I glanced around. I hadn’t decorated much. I really hadn’t had anything I could call my own bedroom when I was growing up. I’d left up a few photographs that Susannah had left from around the area, and hung a watercolor from my mother. She had loved to paint.
A queen-size bed piled high with pillows, with a matching dresser of light ash wood and two nightstands, were the extent of the furnishings in the bedroom. Max set our bags down in front of the dresser. I felt a wash of uncertainty. He was so confident, so certain, and I didn’t even know what to think. With my anxiety driving me, I spun around and hurried back down the stairs.
“Do you want something to drink before we go back into town?” I called over my shoulder.
Max didn’t reply until we were both back in the kitchen as I swung open the door to the refrigerator. “It looks like we’re going to have to turn back around soon,” he commented.
“You gonna tell me we shouldn’t drive in this weather?” I teased.
His mouth curled into a grin, sending butterflies spinning in my belly. With a shrug, he shook his head. “No. It’s not far. Who is Em, by the way?”
“Oh, that’s Emily. She’s Charlie’s daughter, and Charlie happens to be Jesse’s fiancée. Em works at the fire station, so we all know her. She’s fifteen going on thirty. She’s a sweet kid and pretty funny too. I hope you don’t mind that I’d like to go.”
“Of course I don’t mind. It’s obvious she’s important to you. Plus, it’s not like you expected my company.”
His gaze was penetrating as he regarded me. I felt suddenly nervous again. I didn’t really know how to do this. Not to mention that I didn’t know what this was.
“What are we doing, Max?” I blurted out.
The moment my question escaped, I wanted to snatch it back. Sometimes thought bubbles jumped out of my head without my express permission. As his eyes coasted over my face, I didn’t how to read his expression.
“I’m here because I didn’t like the idea of you driving alone in today’s weather. But I don’t think that’s what you’re asking. Am I right?”
My heartbeat was thumping erratically. I hadn’t been involved in anything remotely resembling a relationship in too long. I didn’t know what to call this.
Max was way out of my league. I didn’t know what to do with how much I wanted him. I had guarded myself so thoroughly, I was unprepared for anything other than the lowest possible expectations. In this case, that would have been the one night-stand Max and I enjoyed a year ago. This—him, here, in my home—was far too confusing for me to interpret. I marshaled my courage and took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders.
“What did you mean when you said you wanted to see where this went?”
He was quiet, his eyes never once shifting away from mine. Max was not a man who had trouble with eye contact. It was rather disconcerting to have his intense gaze solely focused on me.
He finally laughed softly, almost as if to himself. “I’m not entirely sure. I just know…” He paused as he pushed his elbow off the counter where he’d been leaning on the island and rounded it. I was standing in front of the refrigerator with my hand on the door handle, as if it could hold me up. I certainly needed something to help stay strong, and I suppose the refrigerator was as good as any other metaphorical option at this point.
Max stopped right in front of me. Without even an ounce of hesitation, his hands rested on my waist. In a hot
second, he spun me around and slid my hips onto the island behind us. “I’ve noticed you worry a lot,” he said, the rough velvet of his voice brushing over my skin and sending a prickle down my spine. Stepping between my knees, he slid his hands down over my hips, giving one of them a gentle squeeze.
“Maybe,” I replied, uncertain where he meant to go with this.
“When I said maybe we should let this play out, I meant that we’re a fire all on our own. That doesn’t come along very often. I pride myself on not being foolish and not being stupid. I think it would be both if we ignored it,” he said flatly.
Mere inches apart, he tugged me a little closer to the edge of the counter. I felt the hard, hot length of him pressing against my core. In a flash, I was needy and greedy all over again. It shouldn’t be this ridiculous. I’d had more sex in the last twenty-four hours than in the last two years, with the exception of my one other night with Max. I idly wondered if perhaps I had forgotten how great sex could be.
Ha. Now that’s stupid. Max is the best sex you ever had. No questions, no doubt, no argument.
It was rare I knew something with that much certainty, but I didn’t even bother to engage in an internal debate over it. I knew what I had with Max was as rare as catching lightning in a bottle.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” Max said, his icy gaze darkening as he slid a hand up under my shirt and cupped one of my breasts.
A little sigh escaped from my lips when he teased my nipple, his thumb brushing over the aching peak through the thin silk of my bra. My panties were drenched, and I wanted him all over again. I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I didn’t know if it would ever be enough.
While I might’ve wanted to tell myself I shouldn’t give in, the current of desire running between us was so strong I couldn’t swim against the tide. So I snatched what little control I had, deciding to harness the power rather than resist it.