“Until next time,” he whispered.
Sam nodded and then nestled her head against Jake's warm chest. For a moment, she forgot the storm entirely—the howling wind fell silent, all she heard was the beating of Jake's heart.
Chapter Five
The sun glinted through the window and roused Sam out of a peaceful sleep. She groaned and rolled over, opening her eyes eagerly, anticipating Jake's intense blue eyes, but instead, she was met with only an empty half of a sleeping bag. The room was still painfully cold, and Sam rubbed her bare arms, clutching them tighter around her body as she sat up. She surveyed the room for her clothes. They were neatly folded in a stack on the desk chair next to her—Jake's handiwork, she guessed. It looked like he had added a few things from her dresser, including a pair of long underwear and an extra thick fisherman's sweater. She pulled the clothes on and headed down the stairs.
Her mind was still spinning from the previous night. So much had happened that she didn't even know where to begin processing. Jake Pane, her nemesis, had come to her rescue last night. As angry and spiteful as she felt about losing her business to him, she truly believed that he was honest about having only good intentions toward her. He'd braved running off the road in a huge snowstorm out in the Alaska wilderness for her. Then there was that kiss. She bit her lip as the memory passed over her; she’d wanted more, but he'd stopped things from going too far. At the time, she'd hoped that his promise of next time meant that he was starting to feel something for her and didn't want to move too quickly. Now in the light of day, he was already gone. So much for hoping.
Outside, a thick blanket of snow coated everything in sight and it glistened in the sun. Icicles dangled from the branches of the large hemlock beside the barn. It was exquisite. The beauty of ice never failed to surprise Sam. Then she saw something almost as shocking. Huddled under the tree, Jake tended a campfire. Sam's lips curled into a smile at the sight.
“You survived,” he said flashing her a broad smile.
“It looks that way.”
“I'm making pancakes,” he shouted, waving her over.
Sam stepped carefully on the slick glaze of ice toward a stump Jake had set next to the fire as a seat.
“So you are.” Sam glanced at the pile of dishes on a tray. “Been going through my cupboards, have you?”
“I'll give you the first stack and we can call it even.” He extended a plate toward her and Sam reached for it, forgetting to check her footing. Her feet slid out from under her, and her arms flailed out as she fell backwards. She braced for the impact of the frozen ground, but instead felt only Jake's strong arms around her.
“For an ice expert, you sure slip and fall on it a lot.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. They were as blue and clear as some gorgeous glacial ice she'd worked with last year. She felt a rush of heat when their fingers touched as Jake pulled her back to her feet. Sam sank down on a large stump next to the fire and he handed her a plate of pancakes.
“This is actually pretty good,” she said, swallowing a large bite. “Thank you for this—for everything.”
Jake nodded. “It was nothing,” he said, then flipped another pancake in the pan. He wore a charcoal gray wool coat open over a thick oatmeal-colored sweater. A fine layer of dark stubble covered his jaw. He fit in perfectly here in the snow by her broken down barn cooking her breakfast.
“Not to me. Other than Polly, I...I've got—I'm on my own, you know. And it's been pretty difficult the last couple of months.”
“I'm so sorry about tha—”
“I didn't mean that. It's just been...” Sam's voice trailed off.
“The guy in the picture,” Jake filled in, remembering the picture he’d seen turned around on her desk—a smiling Sam and a rugged-looking guy with blonde hair standing in almost the same spot she and Jake sat in now beside the barn.
Sam sighed heavily; she scrunched her face, nodding slowly. “Pretty much.”
“That bad?”
“What can I say? Kevin, that was his name, decides one day that we should move to Sweden and start an ice hotel.” Sam pushed at the snow with her boot. “I thought he was joking. How would I go? I've got the—had—the Folk Art School we were starting. I thought it was our dream, but it turns out it was just mine. I’m not sure how I missed it. He told me that I was selfish to not support him and then he was gone.” She rubbed the back of her neck and then looked back at Jake. Her voice was quiet. “He went. And I've got an empty barn instead of a school.”
“Folk art school?”
“Yeah. I've been planning it for a few years. I planned to teach ice sculpting and other mediums, too. It's been a dream of mine for a long time.”
“The furniture inside—you made that?”
Sam nodded. “What do you think?”
“Amazing. I guess you also made that fantastic piece at Polly’s, too. So why no school?”
“It's expensive. I was saving a little at a time. The barn was supposed to be the space, and it needs refurbishing. Also, I wanted to make classes and studio space to be available to underprivileged children for free, so I had to factor that in.”
“And then you lost your customers.”
“Yup.”
“No wonder your letter was so...emphatic.” He wasn’t mad—instead his eyes were crinkled in a smile.
“I guess I should apologize for that.”
“You used a sharpie.” He laughed, and then took a long swig of coffee.
Sam couldn't help but laugh. She ran a hand over her hair, and quickly pulled out the elastic ponytail holding the messy bun, hoping Jake didn't notice. Her auburn hair settled on her shoulders and she gave it a quick tousle with her hand. Jake reached out and put his hand on top of hers to stop her.
“You're beautiful.”
“I'm a disaster.”
“I like that about you.”
“No, really. I'm a complete mess.”
“The best art always is.” His voice was raspy as he leaned toward her. He reached out again and smoothed her cheek with the back of his hand. Then he kissed her. His mouth was firm, but gentle on hers. His strong arms circled her waist and he lifted her onto his lap. Sam wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. Jake leaned close to her, whispering into her ear, “If I had my way, I'd take you inside, but you don't seem to have a bed in there.”
Sam bit her lip. “Well, that and it's only our second date.”
Jake’s lips touched hers again lightly, before he said, “Exactly.”
“So how about we get your truck cleaned off?” Sam jumped to her feet and held out her hands for Jake to pull himself up.
“That's right. We've got a competition to get to.”
“You mean I've got a butt to kick,” Sam said, balling up a snowball and launching it at him playfully.
Jake grabbed a large handful of snow and ran after her. “You're in big trouble, Sam McLeod!” Sam slipped on the snow, and he caught her, tackling her into a snowdrift he'd made when he had shoveled the drive earlier. His eyes locked on hers, and he ran his fingers through her hair before he pressed his lips gently to hers. “I guess I'm in a bit of trouble, too.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she said, lifting herself to his lips again. “You are.”
Chapter Six
The sun shone through the Jeep's window and set Sam's red hair ablaze. Jake reminded himself to focus on the road, which was still slick with ice in spots. Not looking at Sam required a concerted effort on his part though. Every time he glanced at her, she surprised him by being more beautiful than he remembered.
She was such an enigma, a puzzle he really wanted to solve. One moment she was a tough Alaskan businesswoman threatening to take down anyone who got in her way, and then in the next moment she was completely vulnerable letting him keep her warm, telling him about how she'd been hurt. She was sweet and funny, but there was no denying she was very sexy. She probably had no idea how close to the edge they were in that sleeping bag
last night. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to rein himself in and stop things. Sam was special. The fact that he knew this about her so quickly was new to him. They'd come so close to being a never-going-to-happen after the misunderstanding about her losing clients to him.
Jake rubbed his hand over his hair; he still couldn't quite understand why Sam's customers were switching their business over to him. It made no sense. He had no advertising. He made a mental note to talk to Theresa about this. Maybe she'd been working some contacts or something. She seemed to know a lot about Sam's clients, come to think of it.
He'd thought he'd been clear with her about how he didn't want the ice sculpting to take time away from his painting. He had one goal when he got here, to show he wasn't just a one-trick pony. All he had to do was make one amazing piece and he'd be welcomed back in the New York art scene. But he also needed to have time to prepare a show so he could wow everyone once he was back.
Once they got out to the main road on the outskirts of town, the conditions improved and Jake was able to relax a bit behind the wheel. He glanced over at Sam.
“What are you going to do about the power?”
“I'll probably run over to the power company office over lunch and pay them to turn it back on.”
“Can you manage that?” Immediately Jake wished he hadn't asked. If he tried to offer to help her, she'd probably baulk. He believed she could get through this on her own, but he couldn't help wanting to do whatever he could to help her out.
“I'll have to,” she said matter-of-factly. Then she surprised him by laying a hand on his arm and giving him a small smile. “Are you worrying about me again, Pane?”
“I'm developing a nasty habit of doing that, aren't I?”
“Maybe. Normally it would probably piss me off. But I have to admit, it's kind of nice to have someone worrying about me for a change. I don't know...maybe it's just you.”
Jake steered the Jeep into the gravel parking lot in front of the competitor staging area. He cut the engine. He wanted to tell Sam that she could stay with him until things were sorted out with the power company and her stove was repaired, but he didn't want to be too pushy. Also, after seeing the state of her cabin and business buildings, he wasn't sure how she would feel about staying at his luxurious rental. He didn't know her well enough to predict whether she'd relish spending the evening in the hot tub with a million-dollar view or if it would just remind her of which way the money was flowing.
And then there was the whole matter of self-control. He wasn't sure he could spend another night in such close proximity to Sam McLeod and not try to make love to her. When he finally left his thoughts, she was staring at him, her brow furrowed.
“You got quiet.”
Jake smiled and squeezed her hand. “I was just thinking about what the heck I'm going to make for this thing. I've got no ideas.”
“You'll come up with something.” She ran her fingertips over his cheek tenderly.
“I suppose you have a plan.”
Sam's face brightened. “Oh yeah. A winning plan.” Sam leaned forward; a thick tendril of her hair fell over her coppery eyes. She grabbed hold of the scarf that had fallen to the floor and then slid down from her seat, her boots landing firmly on the sand-coated ground.
“Well, I guess I should let you get to it then,” Jake said playfully. His face grew serious. “Can I see you later?”
“Yes. Absolutely, yes.” She wound the scarf loosely around her neck, and gave a tiny wave to him before she walked off to find her site. “You know where to find me,” she called over her shoulder.
“Stay off of ladders!” he shouted, chuckling to himself.
Sam turned around and continued walking backwards, a huge, slaphappy smile plastered on her face, as she called out to him, “Wouldn't want you to worry!”
Chapter Seven
Sam turned off the chainsaw and stepped back to examine her work. The shapes of the people, five small children, three individuals, and a couple, were mostly roughed out now. Her arms ached from holding the weight of the chainsaw so long. Tomorrow she'd go back with her hand tools to put in the details—the features of their exuberant faces, the intertwined fingers of the man and woman, the folds of her skirt as she spun, each lace of the ice skates...it would be a very long day. Then the morning before judging, before everyone arrived, she'd hit each sculpture with the propane torch, just for a moment to clear the clouding of the ice that inevitably occurred during the carving process. She looked forward to the moment when the faces finally revealed themselves to her after she'd melted just the thinnest top layer of ice.
The parking lot behind Sam was mostly empty. Most people took off well before the sun started to set, which, this late in the year, generally occurred sometime around 3 PM. In general, roughing out a piece with a chainsaw was not particularly time consuming—a skilled carver could do it in under an hour, and Sam was no different.
The distinction between her and the competitors who had been gone for hours was that she had roughed out 10 pieces in all instead of one. It was an ambitious project no one else would have even considered, but Sam had everything on the line and she wasn't holding anything back. Delight on Ice was going to blow all the other entries out of the water, at least if she finished it. Sam rubbed her eyes and plunked down on the folding chair. Her cell buzzed in her pocket and she glanced at the screen before answering it.
“Hey Poll,” she answered.
“Bessie's dead.”
“Seriously?”
“Mike just called with the coroner's report. It's going to be a lot, Sam. He said he'd do the work for free, but the parts alone...”
Sam closed her eyes and sighed. “How much?”
“Four grand...maybe more.”
Sam rose to her feet and started pacing. “I don't have that.”
“I know, babe. Look, we'll figure it out, okay?”
“What am I going to do without my truck? I won't be able to make my deliveries...I...I live more than 10 miles away from town. That's it. I'm done.”
“Sounds like you need a ride,” a familiar deep voice startled Sam, and she spun around. Her heart leapt in her chest, despite her current seemingly hopeless situation.
“Pol—”
“I know, you've gotta go,” Polly interrupted, then she was gone.
Jake obviously had been home to shower and change at some point during the day. He stood before her in dark jeans, topped off with a black sweater and blue down vest just a shade darker than his eyes. His face was clean-shaven revealing his smooth olive skin, and his black hair was stylishly tousled. Sam was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she hadn't showered or brushed her teeth. Her hair was still in one of two ways she always wore it when she was working, a tangled messy bun on top of her head. Jake reached out and gently wiped a smudge of grease off her cheek with his fingers.
“Chainsaw oil,” Sam said. She looked down at the ground, trying to hide the blush that was flaming in her face.
“Occupational hazard.” Jake smiled. He sucked in a breath. “I was going to see if you wanted dinner, but I realized I forgot my wallet back at my place. So I was wondering if you'd want to come there. I've got food and heat. I could cook for you. What do you think?”
“Actually, that sounds great.”
The sun dipped down below the horizon casting a pink glow on the white frozen world that surrounded them. Jake pulled the door to the Jeep open for Sam and she climbed in. She turned in her seat to face him. “You know, you're the only thing that's gone right today.”
Jake leaned in and brushed his lips lightly on her forehead. “Now that, I find very hard to believe.” He gestured a few yards away where Sam's entry stood. “Because that looks like it went very well. Winningly, even. If that's a word.”
“If I can pull it off without having a breakdown,” Sam said, laughing half-heartedly.
Jake's eyes fixed themselves on hers. The intensity of his gaze caught her off guard. “You w
ill,” he said earnestly. Then he closed the door and ran around the front of the truck, jumping inside.
Once they were out of the parking lot, Sam asked, “How'd your piece go?”
“Good. I think I've got something. Not your kind of something, but it might be something I could be proud of, I think.”
Sam looked out the window. They were already outside of town, and the wilderness was a dusky blur of shadows and glow. She didn't immediately recognize where they were. She turned to look back at Jake.
“Where's your place?”
“I'm renting over on Pike Mountain,” he said as if he needed to clear his throat. “It's not too far.”
Sam knew the place, but she'd never been there. If they had a railroad around here, it would have been on the other side of the tracks from where she came. The nice side. The giant luxury cabins with walls of windows and marble in the bathrooms. She fidgeted with a spot in the cuff of her sweater that was coming unraveled. “Oh,” she said quietly.
A few minutes later, they turned off onto a long winding driveway and stopped in front of what Sam could only describe as a mountaintop mansion.
“You're rich!” Sam exclaimed. Immediately she regretted the comment.
Jake seemed to take it in stride. “I've done pretty well,” he said with an air of nonchalance that Sam mused could only come from ‘rich’ being a dramatic understatement.
Sam's brow furrowed. “I don't get it,” she said, hopping down from the Jeep. “Why do you need a comeback so badly?” She tried not to sound harsh, but she couldn't help but compare Jake's situation to her own with resentment.
Jake turned to her and took her hands in his. “I just want to be an artist again. Can you imagine what it would feel like if you couldn't do what you wanted anymore?”
Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology Page 43