“But what’s any of that got to do with me? I’m not Nicholas’s woman; we just had a couple of one-night stands. We aren’t even dating. And I told him I don’t ever want to get married again, so he knows better than to ask Duncan to keep tabs on me.”
Peg went back to looking horrified. “You said . . . you actually told Nicholas you’re never getting married again? Wait—he asked?”
“No!” Julia sucked in a deep breath and started pressing her thumbnail into the sleeve on her cup. “The subject just sort of came up . . . after. He mentioned something about his mom wishing he’d hurry up and get married, and I . . . um, wished him luck.”
Peg sat on the bed again and took hold of Julia’s free hand. “Does Nicholas have to bludgeon you before you get the hint, Jules? There’s not a man alive—big and strong and scary or not—who would ever bring up the dreaded M-word in the presence of a single available female unless he’s already picturing her wearing his ring.”
“Now who’s talking stupid? We haven’t even gone on a date.”
“No, you’ve just had wild passionate sex. Friggin’ twice.” Peg stood up and headed for the door. “Go on and get dressed while I put on some coffee to replace the one I gave the guard in the booth.” She stopped in the hall and looked back. “The jerk had the nerve to take it and then tell me the only way he was letting me in your driveway was if I got Nicholas to personally call and say it was okay.” Her eyes suddenly started dancing with laughter again. “You poor clueless child,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t even realize what just happened, do you?”
“Oh, please enlighten me, dear older wise one,” Julia drawled.
Peg just as suddenly sobered and walked back into the room. “Ohmigod, you truly don’t know. Julia,” she whispered, “last night Nicholas flexed his real muscle.”
Julia stilled at her friend’s seriousness. “What do you mean? All he did was . . . he just locked me . . . Ohmigod,” she whispered on an indrawn breath.
Peg nodded. “He ended the chase.”
“But . . .”
Peg sat on the bed again and took hold of her hand. “There are no buts when it comes to men like Nicholas. Last night he declared—publicly, by involving his guards in your little battle of wills—that he’s bigger and stronger and more stubborn than you, and that he will always have the final word. And you either have the courage to love him because he’s so old-fashioned you want to smack him, or you walk away before it really is too late. But that means you walk away completely, Julia; no more maybes or what-ifs or mixed feelings, and no more one-night stands.”
“But that’s what scares me; that I could love Nicholas.”
Her friend smiled warmly, giving her hand a squeeze. “But isn’t it a wonderful scary? Doesn’t it make you feel really alive? When you’re with Nicholas, doesn’t your mouth go dry and your insides clench and your heart beat faster?” Peg set Julia’s coffee on the nightstand, then wrapped her in a hug. “Be the girl I grew up with,” she whispered. “Be that brave and daring woman you were becoming, and believe in the magic again. It really is that simple, you know.” She leaned away and reached in her pocket, then lifted Julia’s hand and pressed something warm and smooth into her palm.
Julia felt her eyes start to sting as she closed her fist over the small stone.
“This is what I really came here to give you this morning,” Peg continued thickly, her own eyes welling with moisture. “So that whenever you start feeling scared, you can remind yourself how brave and invincible we both were when we believed.” Peg pulled her into another hug. “I love you, Jules. Now please love yourself enough to love Nicholas.”
“Dammit, Peg,” Julia muttered, hugging her back fiercely. “Don’t make me cry. I don’t have time for a tear fest this morning.”
Peg pulled away after wiping her eyes on Julia’s pajamas and stood up, smiling smugly. “Wow, was that another cuss I just heard, Ms. Campbell?”
Julia threw back the covers and got out of bed. “You’d cuss too if you were facing my day.” She slapped her forehead with her palm. “What am I saying? You don’t need an excuse.”
“I’ve quit,” Peg said, following her down the hall. “With the kids gone to school all day, I’ve gotten sloppy and forgot Charlie has ears. But I had to clean up my act when I heard him say friggin’ at our campfire Saturday night.”
Julia stopped in the middle of the kitchen and swung toward her. “You’ve already corrupted that beautiful little boy? He’s only two.”
Peg winced, giving a sheepish shrug. “That’s the scary part; he used it perfectly. Hero was trying to steal the charred marshmallow off Charlie’s stick, and my sweet baby shook his finger at the dog and said, ‘No, Hero, it friggin’ hot.’” She hung her head. “I’m such a bad mother. I don’t think I should have any more babies.”
“Um . . . didn’t you tell me that because Duncan was sort of an only child that he wants a big family? And that you agreed, because you’re also an only child?”
“We have five.” Peg hopped onto a stool at the island counter and rested her head in her hands. “And I’m not going to survive their teens.” She looked up. “Charlotte is twelve but acts sixteen—which, if I remember correctly, was the hardest year on our mothers. And Isabel’s only a tween and she’s already giving me attitude. Belligerent boys I can deal with, but what if I have another girl?” She suddenly straightened. “I know: Let’s you, me, and Olivia all have babies together.”
Julia actually dropped the scoop full of coffee grounds on the counter. “What!”
Peg nodded. “That way we can do what Olivia and I do with Ella and Charlie; we’ll throw them all together and raise them up like a little pack of wolves.”
“I don’t have a husband,” Julia cried when she realized Peg was serious.
Peg waved that little detail away. “Pffft, I give you one month, tops, before you’re planning your own wedding instead of other people’s.” She canted her head, her smile turning cheeky. “But this time around you might want to rethink the theme. I mean, really, Jules—Cinderella?” She snorted. “I hate to break the news to you, but that particular prince turned into a frog.”
“Margaret Conroy, stop talking.” Julia swept the spilled coffee into her palm and dumped it in the filter. “And for once hear what I’m saying: I am never getting married again.”
Apparently undeterred, Peg kept right on talking. “I suppose you can just live with Nicholas, if you don’t mind disappointing his mother and having to figure out how to tell your children why you won’t marry their father.”
“I’m not falling in love with him, either.”
Peg arched a brow. “Need I remind you the chase ended last night? Publicly? How much are you willing to bet that by noon today it’s all over Nova Mare, and by supper tonight it’s all over town?”
Julia set her hands on the counter and hung her head with a groan. “And by nine tonight Nicholas will know he just caught the town slut.”
Peg was standing behind her in half a heartbeat and turning her around, Julia assumed to make sure she didn’t miss her glare. “Nicholas caught the town princess.” She suddenly went back to smiling smugly. “And I’m planning your wedding.”
“I give up,” Julia growled, spinning away and marching down the hall. She turned inside the bathroom. “And thank you for the friggin’ coffee!” she shouted, just before she slammed the door.
“You’re friggin’ welcome!” Peg shouted back.
Only Julia had barely stripped off and was just about to turn on the shower when she heard a soft knock. “Ah, Jules? The guy out front said he’s not letting me step any of my toes outside until nine A.M., either.”
Julia walked over and pressed her forehead to the door. “What time is it now?”
“Eight. And he asked me if you want the half cord of branches I saw stacked on the porch to be taken up to the summit or dropped off at the conference pavilion.”
Julia straightened. “There’s a
bunch of branches on the porch?”
“Yup. All with whittled pointy ends. There must be over two hundred. So where do you want him to take them?”
“To . . . I guess to the summit. Peg?” Julia whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Peg whispered back—although there was a smile in her voice. “For cussing at me or for being my stupid-talking best friend?”
Julia rested her head on the door again. “Yeah, for that.”
“I wasn’t really leaving just now, you know.” There was a soft thud on the door, as if Peg had also rested her head on the opposite side. “In fact, I’m staying the day so I can help you make some crazy bride’s fantasy come true.”
Julia straightened again. “Nicholas called you?”
“No, Rana did. She said you were in need of reinforcements. I cleaned Vanetta out of graham crackers when I picked up the cinnamon buns. Ezra said his meat guy is due this morning, and he’ll get several cases of hot dogs off him. But I’m afraid we’re out of luck on the marshmallows. Jules?” she asked when Julia didn’t say anything. “You do know this is how the magic works, don’t you? Everyone pulling together to help someone in need?”
“Even when that someone is acting like an ass?”
“Especially then,” Peg said with a soft laugh. “So okay, Ms. Campbell, say something . . . bossy to me.”
Julia felt herself smiling. “Two eggs over easy, toast—not too dark—and a big mug of hot coffee brewed the way the boss likes it.”
Julia heard a loud and definitely not regal snort trailing down the hall, then turned her back against the door and slumped forward to hide her face in her hands. Oh yeah, she was on one hell of a stupid roll, because she’d swear that last night she really had felt Nicholas moving inside her before she’d fallen asleep, and it had been . . . explosive.
And honestly? The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of being caught by a big strong scary atavist. Well, not so much that she was going to let him get away unscathed for publicly flexing his real muscle.
* * *
The director of special events and her entire staff—including a real live queen and a real best friend—not only survived Nova Mare’s second boisterous bonfire wedding in two days, they’d been grinning worse than the drunken revelers as they staggered off the summit at two A.M. Tuesday morning just as the first snowflakes fell from the sky. As for the bride and groom . . . well, the juxtaposed Ringwoods were likely holed up in a tent with the dear Altbussers someplace in the nearby wilderness, waiting for the three inches of snow to melt so they could hike back to the resort, no doubt with SD cards full of pictures, anxious to tell all their plain old boring friends about the huge Maine blizzard they’d survived.
If she didn’t hear from either party by noon tomorrow, she was asking the director of adventure to send out a search party, Julia decided as she sat on Nicholas’s deck with her new best buddies, watching the shadows lengthen across Bottomless. An appropriate ending to Thanksgiving Day, since she’d shared the traditional dinner she’d brought to her cottage from Aeolus’s with them.
“You guys tell anyone that I sat you at the table and served you on bone china,” she said, causing six heads to turn to her, “I swear I’ll deny it.”
Julia looked out at Bottomless again, remembering making her first executive decision at two A.M. Tuesday morning, giving her staff the following three days off and instructing everyone not to step foot on the mountain until Friday morning. Well, except Rana, since she lived here. Julia had instead politely asked her mentor to please stay away from the conference pavilion, then generously given her four days off when the dear woman had actually asked for Friday, too.
Julia, however, had spent the last three days practically living at the conference pavilion—which had felt eerily silent after the frenzy of the previous four days. But it wasn’t until this afternoon, as she’d strolled down the resort road with her stuffed-to-their-whiskers buddies, that Julia realized she had spent the last three days nesting, putting her personal touch on her beautiful new office, making it hers.
It had all started when she’d wandered into the prop room and been blown away by all the over-the-top . . . stuff. Some of which, she had realized upon closer inspection, were authentic antiques. As for the marble bust of the big scary horse she’d lugged to her office to display on her desk, she hoped to Hades it was a reproduction. Because if not, that meant she had an ancient Greek artifact dating from around the reign of King . . . Perdiccas.
Oh yeah, she’d gone on the office Internet and Googled Perdiccas just for the fun of it, and found a couple of kings going by that name ruling Macedon around the fifth and sixth centuries BC. And after reading up on them, she’d decided the angry man and his three sons were just as bad as kings Perdiccas I and II.
No, not nice men, any of them—ancient or modern.
Julia looked down at her hands, one holding the note she’d found on Nicholas’s kitchen counter this afternoon and the other holding her cell phone. She had no business feeling bummed that he hadn’t said good-bye before he’d left Tuesday—with one of his men, she’d since learned—to go . . . somewhere on some sort of business. After all, it wasn’t like they were dating or anything. But he could have at least called to ask if she wouldn’t mind babysitting his cats while he was gone, which could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, he’d said in his text.
Julia pressed the button on her phone and slid her thumb across the screen, then went to her messages and scanned down through the list of texts she’d exchanged with Trisha in New York City, and Peg and Olivia and Rana and all her assistants, only to wince when she saw all the texts she’d sent accidentally—to God, for all she knew. She finally spotted Nicholas’s name and tapped it.
Keep an eye on our little herd while I’m away, he’d said, not asked. Our herd? And just when had she inherited six cats? Had to leave unexpectedly on business, and will be gone from a few days to a few weeks.
With his horse?
Because when she’d stopped by the barn Wednesday morning to once again thank Sally for making the elegant, folk-artsy wedding bands, Julia had noticed that Phantom wasn’t in his stall. When she’d asked where he was, having brought a couple of carrots for the big scary figment of the imagination—that looked a lot like the big scary bust sitting on her desk—Sally had shrugged, saying Nicholas had ridden off Tuesday around noon with one of his men on another one of their stallions, and when they hadn’t returned, she’d assumed the horses were staying at his house. Which wasn’t unusual, apparently, since several of his men were familiar with Phantom and often took care of him whenever their boss left on business.
But the only thing in the garage was Nicholas’s big scary truck. And Julia distinctly remembered hearing a distant . . . aftershock shortly after noon on Tuesday.
Be good while I’m gone and I’ll bring you back a surprise.
That ominous little text had cost her a couple of sleepless nights. Darn Peg for putting the idea in her head that Nicholas really was seeing her as wife material—which had her all worried that he was bringing back a friggin’ engagement ring.
How in Hades was she supposed to react to that?
Maybe she should start carrying a brick in her tote—although she suspected it would take a ton of them to knock some sense into him.
As they’d worked together Monday, Peg and Rana and Olivia (when she’d dropped by to lend a hand for an hour) had all offered their own little tidbits of advice on dealing with big strong scary contrary atavists—Rana introducing contrary into the growing list of . . . qualities. But what had really scared Julia was that all the women had been acting as if she and Nicholas were a done deal.
And judging by the note he’d left her on his kitchen island, so did Nicholas.
I gave the men delivering the furniture your number. If it arrives before I return, go ahead and have them place it where you think it
works best. There should be linens delivered at the same time to fit the custom-made mattress if you feel like making up the bed. I didn’t have time to clean out the fridge, so take what you can use. The house is designed to look after itself, but if any problems arise, bring them to Duncan’s attention. Also, if you find you have to return to your father’s house for any reason, I would appreciate it if you took Duncan, Mac, or Rowan with you, or Dante or Micah.
Sorry I had to leave without a proper good-bye, but duty is often an inconvenient taskmaster. I shall make it up to you when I return. Until then, the memory of me will have to do.
—Nicholas
Julia pulled in a shuddering breath as she slowly folded the note and slipped it in her pocket. She’d tried texting him back Tuesday, but now knew why she hadn’t gotten any response. She hadn’t been snooping or anything; he’d left his cell phone right there in plain sight in a basket on the counter, along with his wallet, some loose change, and his watch—almost as if he’d wanted her to see them.
Like he wanted her to question why a man—who didn’t have a last name—went on a business trip that could last anywhere from a few days to weeks without taking his personal belongings; on his big scary horse that had a lot of scars, which had disappeared with him right around the time of another rumbling aftershock.
Oh, and with one of his elite guards. Sampson, Sally had said his name was; another big strapping guy who had shown up at Nova Mare with Nicholas last year, along with Rowan and Micah and Dante. All, apparently, from the same mysterious island the Oceanuses were from—which Sally had heard was “somewhere in the friggin’ Atlantic.”
Oh yeah, it would take more than courage to fall in love with Nicholas, as Julia was beginning to suspect it would also take believing in magic again.
She pulled the small, jet-black stone Peg had given her out of her pocket and slowly rubbed her thumb over its shimmering, polished surface. Bastet suddenly stood up and walked over, touched her nose to the stone, then blinked up at Julia and gave a soft little chirp. Julia gave her a pat, remembering also looking up the Egyptian goddess online and discovering that Bastet had been the patron of love, sex, and fertility.
The Heart of a Hero Page 23