by Leah Braemel
Time had stretched like a rubber band and snapped back as if the months since he’d last seen her didn’t exist. The moment she’d spotted him, her eyes had lit up and she’d given him that smile that rocked his world every damned time. Damn, he’d been dreaming about that smile since the first day he’d seen her.
She’d been so different from the type of girl he normally dated. He’d never met anyone so confident, so sure of what she wanted, determined to go after her dreams. Most of the girls he’d dated before had been just that, girls. Meg had been different. So when she’d tried to let him down, he’d taken up the challenge and discovered she brought out the side of him he’d kept hidden. A side he still didn’t show many people. Only with her did he feel he could relax, be himself. His need to care for her kicked into high gear but he knew he’d have to offer it cautiously once they were together full-time. She’d always been headstrong about her independence, more often pushing away any offers of help, determined to do it herself.
For now, all he wanted to do was get her home, her feet up and a mug of hot cider in her hands. He’d love to sketch her curled up asleep in front of the fireplace they’d restored in the loft, her blonde hair spilling over a pillow—the dark green or maybe the burgundy one to highlight her freckles. Would he use pencil crayons or watercolors? Oils would be too heavy, too dark. She needed light. Fanciful.
She’d have that soft smile she had only for him, especially after they’d just made love. Hoping both the truck and the gas nozzle hid him, he shifted the taut fabric over his cock. At the precise moment his phone rang—his sister-in-law checking up on him. He’d hoped that Noah and Sophie being home during the holidays would distract her need to mother-hen him to death. No such joy.
“Hi, Amy.” To forestall any long conversations, he continued. “Yes, I met Meg no problem. We’re in Oshawa right now. I expect to be home in about two and a half hours. She’s fine. I’m fine. And yes, I’ll drive carefully.”
“Up yours, Ry.” Despite Amy’s grumble, her fondness came through loud and clear. “I was just phoning to say I’m going to leave some leftovers in the oven for you. For later. After you’ve both worked up an appetite.”
“Working up an appetite? Is that what you call what you and Derek were doing that forced me to sleep in the mill all those nights?”
“You know you two are gonna be on each other like horny rabbits the minute you get her alone, don’t deny it. Now you’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you for the leftovers, Amy.’”
“Thank you for the leftovers, Amy.”
“Oh, and Derek says to tell you it’s just started to snow so watch the roads on the way back.”
Rain by Lake Ontario and snow in the Highlands meant he’d run into freezing rain somewhere in between, probably over the Oak Ridges moraine. The eastern end of the watershed ridge would take him up a thousand feet then drop him back down again, and had a weather system all of its own. “Make sure Noah sands the path to your car if you’re bringing them over yourself. In fact, just have Derek or Noah bring them over. I don’t want to hear about you slipping and falling and hurting yourself or my little niece or nephew.”
“You’re as bad as Derek. If you guys had your way, you’d strap pillows all around me and forbid me from walking.”
“And you love all the attention.” Though Amy had blossomed during her pregnancy, both Derek and he couldn’t help their need to hover over her. Not after the years they’d tried to have this kid.
“Yeah, I do. But you don’t have to worry. Derek’s already taken care of the sidewalk—you remember him, right?”
“Yeah, I remember him.” He heard his brother snort in the background, then Derek came on the line.
“You can relax, bro. Noah and I put down sand before we let Amy go out.”
Of course, his brother would have made sure the paths were cleared before he’d let Amy go anywhere. “I’m just trying to make sure she listens to you and looks after my niece, nephew, whatever it is.” He still couldn’t believe they knew but refused to tell him.
“I get it.” Quiet humor filled Derek’s voice. “Everyone’s been your responsibility for so long you can’t turn off the need to manage us.”
Ouch. “Sorry. It’s not a switch I can turn off. You’ll find out soon enough what it’s like when the baby’s born.”
“I know, but it’s time to start living your own life. Let us stop feeling guilty because of what you gave up for us.”
“You would have done the same thing if you’d been in my place.” There had been days when he’d wished he’d been the younger brother, that Derek had been the one named guardian. He’d never realized Derek felt guilty too. “Am I doing the right thing? Just because they’re both legal age and I’m not technically legally responsible for Noah and Sophie anymore doesn’t mean I can abandon them. Maybe I should wait a year.”
“A year’s not going to make any difference. Amy and I will look after Sophie until she leaves for college and Noah will be away at university until June anyway. You don’t need to worry about us, Ry.”
Would his father feel the same way?
Derek picked up on his hesitation. “We’ve talked about this for months now, Ry. You know it’s time. You’ve put everyone else first for the last seven years. I don’t know if I would have done that when I was twenty-two.”
“You would have.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But now it’s time for you to start living your own life. You and Meg have been apart too long already. If you make her wait another year...”
Another year might cause it to snap.
“Look, I gotta go. Say hi to Meg for me. We’ll see you soon.”
Derek ended the call and Ryan pocketed the phone.
You don’t need to worry about us, Ry. His father had said something similar when he’d told Ryan they’d made him his siblings’ legal guardian in their will. Two weeks later, his father and stepmother were dead.
It wasn’t until after the funeral that he’d realized his plans to stay with Meg as she followed her dreams to become a Mountie had died too.
* * *
“You need to come in and sign the final papers and you’ll be good to go.”
“That’s good to hear, sir. Do I need to make an appointment or can I come in anytime?”
“No, you can walk in anytime. Just ask at the front desk and they’ll direct you my way. Congratulations and welcome to the O.P.P. Merry Christmas, Corporal, or should I say Constable.”
Having to drop down in rank was one of the few downsides to this plan, but they’d assured her that given her experience she’d probably be promoted soon enough. “Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas to you too.”
She ended the call and slipped her phone back in her purse. Excitement bubbled up, and the people still standing in line to place their order probably thought her a loon if they spotted the silly grin on her face.
Juggling the coffee and doughnuts, Meg stepped outside before she released her breath. She’d done it. Well, almost done it. Once the papers were signed, she’d officially be a constable with the Ontario Provincial Police instead of a corporal with the RCMP.
She hurried across the parking lot, weaving through the cars and trucks lining up in the takeout line. When she’d left her home in the arctic, it had been hovering around minus forty with the wind chill factored in. Yet here on the north shore of Lake Ontario, four days before Christmas, it was raining. Raining!
Ryan had finished pumping the gas and parked the truck at the side of the station. “All done?”
“Yup. All done.” A shard of panic edged inside that she’d actually turned in her resignation. Still a cop, she reminded herself, just with a different force. You’re not giving up your dreams, just changing the path a little.
But Ryan was worth it.
He took the cardboard tray with the coffees from her and opened the passenger side door. “Then get in before you get soaked. Last thing we want is for you to spend the whole week you’re here w
ith a fever or sniffing and snorting with a cold.”
“That would suck. I’d have to stop you from kissing me.” She looped her arms around his neck and brought his lips down to hers.
“Nah, it wouldn’t stop me from kissing you. It would just stop me from kissing your mouth.” His grin returned. “You’ve got another set of very kissable lips.”
She clenched her thighs together, hoping to find relief from the ache he created. Damn, her nipples were pebbled hard beneath her shirt, needing to be touched, to be tweaked with that bite of pain she loved, and her pussy so ready to be fucked senseless. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“And I’ll say it again.”
“Get your butt in the truck, Corporal. That’s an order.”
“Oooh, that makes me want to disobey you.” She ran her finger down the zipper of his coat and leaned in to whisper, “I like your punishments. But you’re not getting my handcuffs this time.”
Rain starting to drip from his hair, Ryan grinned. “If I hadn’t told Amy we’d be home tonight, I’d rent a room at the nearest hotel and show you I don’t need handcuffs. I am an artist. I can be very creative without needing your props.”
Never a truer word had been spoken. He’d surprised her the very first night they’d made love. When she’d learned he was an artist, she’d pegged him as being the submissive one in the relationship. Boy, had he ever proven her wrong that night. And the night after that. And every night they’d spent together since.
Without attempting to hide her grin, she climbed in the truck and took the cardboard tray from him. Once he was in place, she handed him his coffee. “Here’s your double double.”
“Yeah, yeah, where’s my cruller?”
“In the eight years I’ve known you, have I ever forgotten your cruller?” She held up the paper bag containing the doughnuts, laughing when he snatched it from her. “Doughnut hog!”
He bit into the twisted pastry, his eyes closing almost the same way they did when he came.
“I don’t know anyone else who can get orgasmic over doughnuts.”
“Hey, crullers are my lifeblood. My inspiration.” He leaned over the console and kissed her nose. “Second to you, of course.”
“Good save.” God, she missed their banter, the way he could make her laugh, especially after a particularly tough shift. “Now give me back my Boston cream.”
The doughnut demolished, Ryan scrubbed his fingers on a napkin then dabbed at her nose. “You’ve got chocolate on you.” Once he’d removed all traces of the icing, he dropped the napkin and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “God, I’ve missed you, Meg. Skyping isn’t the same as being able to talk to you face-to-face, or touch you like this.”
He dipped his head for another kiss, tasting of coffee laced with the sweetness of the honeyed doughnuts. They’d known when she joined the RCMP she’d be stationed in the arctic for five years, but she’d not been prepared to be separated for Ryan for that long. Nor had she been prepared for how much it hurt to tell him to stay in Ontario while she moved north. Oh sure, they’d told each other that soldiers were separated for months, even years at a time, but he was right. An email or a video chat wasn’t the same as those little random touches and kisses he’d rain upon her when they were together. Each time they’d had to part had torn another part of her heart.
Fog covered the inside of the windows by the time he pulled away and murmured, “I guess I should get you home.”
Home. She lifted her cup, savoring the thought as much as her coffee.
She settled back, letting the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers soothe the pounding in her chest, the vibration of the Jeep exciting the embers that had flared even before Ryan had kissed her. Gave in to her fantasies of giving herself over to him completely again. Of the scratch of a hemp rope as he trailed it over her skin, the bite into her flesh when he tightened it around her. Of him standing in front of her, his voice husky with lust, of him rocking deep inside and withdrawing until she was mindless with need.
Of lying in bed beside him afterward, talking about their days, discussing their hopes, their dreams, their disappointments, their successes.
* * *
Traffic was light at this time of day so Ryan had allowed himself the occasional sideways glance at Megan, half asleep in the seat beside him. Even in that ridiculous muskrat-fur hat and oversize parka, she was sexy. Not that she’d believe him if he told her. She’d left her coat unzipped, giving him a prime view of her chest softly rising and falling. Despite the remaining layers of fabric, his memory supplied an image of her breasts bared to his hands, to his tongue.
She’d always been as responsive as hell, easy to arouse with the simplest touch. He’d known from their very first date she’d thought that because he was a liberal arts student he’d be a marshmallow. A pushover, soft and weak. She’d thrown down a gauntlet, even tried to let him down gently that he wasn’t her type, that she’d gone out on the date as a favor to Amy.
She’d been sure of what she needed, demanding a lover secure and strong, which both excited him and amused him to see her reaction when he’d proven her wrong. Those first few weeks she’d been rigid, unbending steel, unformed at the time. Underneath he’d sensed she wasn’t accepting of her own needs to submit in the bedroom, to him or anyone else.
But he was a sculptor, trained in forging rigid metals, bending them to his will. The first night he’d set out to prove he knew his way around her body. Then he’d set out to prove that her needs, to submit, to be taken care of in the bedroom, did not mean she was weak. In exploring her needs, her limits, he’d learned his own, and together they’d pushed each other to limits they’d never dreamed.
An hour north of Lake Ontario, the temperatures dropped; sleet mixed with snow and ice pellets lashed the windshield. Something the weathermen had failed to predict. With a mental sigh of regret, he redirected the heater vent from his chest to the side window. As much as he appreciated Megan’s sexy fragrance blasted at him, the last thing he needed right now was a hard-on to distract him for the next two hours.
As they approach the turnoff to the highway leading to Porter’s Mills, every tree his headlights swept glimmered as if it’d been dipped in glass. The road was little better. Ryan flipped his signal light on and geared down in preparation for the turn. He forced his hands to stay loose on the wheel and touched the brakes, both to test the 4x4’s gripping power and to warn the driver in the car behind him. The truck slowed without skidding and he released his breath until he looked in the rearview mirror. The car trailing him showed no signs of slowing as it barreled toward him.
“Hang on.” Sweat beaded on his forehead as he clutched the steering wheel with one hand to aim the Jeep so any impact wouldn’t push him straight into the path of oncoming traffic, and threw the other arm across Megan’s chest, bracing for the inevitable crash.
The Jeep lurched forward a second later and Ryan’s seat belt bit into his chest. Something shattered—the car’s headlight or the Jeep’s taillight, he couldn’t tell which. Metal screeched as the car scraped along the Jeep’s bumper then bounced off to careen into the ditch. His winter tires and four-wheel-drive suspension couldn’t compete with the icy surface and he didn’t dare touch his brakes. Nothing he did with the steering wheel affected their motion and the Jeep pitched around in a slow spin matching the flips of his bowels.
The tires caught the gravel; Ryan tightened his hold both on the steering wheel and Megan. They bounced off the guardrail, metal grinding on metal as the Jeep fought the momentum that could tip them over the thin wire into the twenty-foot ravine on that side. Just when Ryan was certain they’d lost the battle, the Jeep straightened and stopped facing the direction they’d just come.
“Ah, Ryan? You can let go now.” Amusement tinged Megan’s voice. That she could speak at all amazed him. His lungs still weren’t working.
It wasn’t until she spoke that he felt the softness of
one breast pressed against his forearm and the other filling his palm. “Sorry. I was just...”
He pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair, hoping she didn’t see it shake. It wasn’t like this was the spot where his parents had been killed, but it was close enough that it made no difference to his brain.
“Are you all right?” She touched his thigh. “You look shaken.”
Shit. Talk about a punch to the ’nads. “Peachy. Some asshole just about ran me off the road, but everything’s fine. How about you?”
“I’m fine. It wasn’t more than a skid to me.”
“Right, you’re an adrenaline junkie.” She’d talked him into hang gliding and it had been pretty cool. Even though it had been his idea to go parachuting, while she’d wiggled her hips in a happy dance once they’d landed, he’d fallen to his knees and kissed the ground and sworn never again. Figured she’d find a car crash no big deal. He rummaged through the glove box for his ownership and insurance slip.
Her lips curved into a smile but concern filled her eyes. “If I hadn’t gone through weeks of defensive driving classes, I’d be freaked out too. You stay here. I’m going to go check on the other car.” Meg had already unbuckled and was out of the car by the time Ryan fumbled with the seat belt and opened his door. Freezing rain mixed with snow pelted him and soaked his jeans as a gust whipped away the tiny bubble of warm air surrounding his skin.
Ryan pulled the hood of his ski jacket over his head. While it kept the ice off his hair, it did little to stop the wind from grabbing the words out of his throat.
They examined the damage to his Jeep and discovered the bumper had been pushed in, and the side panel and back door damaged. So much for his perfect driving record with his insurance company.
“It’s not too bad. It’s still drivable.” Meg tipped her fur cap off her forehead so she could see him better.
“Everyone okay over there?”