by Leah Braemel
Ryan’s voice raised loud enough that Don turned off his torch and flipped off his mask. “Ma, that’s enough.”
“I’m doing this for you, so stay out of it.”
Don ducked his head, letting his visor fall, Meg guessed, so his mother couldn’t see his scowl, or the flush of embarrassment.
Meg moved closer, fully prepared to intervene. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope.” Ryan’s jaw set as he stared at June. “June’s going to wait for Don in the car. Or better yet, you’ll go home or somewhere until Don calls you and says he needs you to pick him up.”
“You’re making a mistake, Ry. You belong—”
“As I said, the decision is mine to make and I’ve made it.” He stomped to the door and threw it open. “I’m not prepared to listen to anything more on this topic.”
Fury filled June’s face. “You’re going to regret it, Ryan. I’ve been there, remember?”
“The situation’s not at all the same. You’ve had your say. It’s time to leave.”
“Fine.” With a huff, she stalked past him. “I give you four months tops before you realize what a mistake you’ve made.”
June had barely cleared the doorframe when Ryan shut the door so hard a handful of papers on his workbench fluttered to the ground. His fists clenched once then relaxed and he faced Meg. “Sorry about that.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Don? How you doing?”
While he checked on the teen’s work, Meg bent down and picked up one of the papers that had fallen off of his desk, a college crest on the header of one, a well-known corporate logo from the States on another. Ryan snatched it from her hands and stuffed it in his pocket. “Don’t worry about those. I’ll pick them up.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, why?” He looked up from the papers he’d gathered and was stuffing in his tool box.
“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you lose your temper, and you were damned close to losing it back there.”
“It’s June. She’s always got a bug up her ass about some drama or another but she pushed a couple buttons about something today.”
“Want to talk about it?” She hitched one hip on his workbench. “I’m a good listener.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, you are. And it’s stupid—remember me telling you how I sold the dragon sculpture to a place in Phoenix?”
Meg nodded.
“She thinks I should have kept it, or at least donated it to the school.”
“Did you want to sell it?”
“I didn’t really have a choice. It took over six months of work—if I keep it, no one’s going to see it, and I can’t afford to buy more supplies on my salary, so it had to go.” He ran his fingers through his hair and paced to the window and stared out. “But yeah, it was tough.
“It’s like the mill. There’s something about it that speaks to me. It’s like it has part of my soul in it. Like it’s a part of me.” He walked back to her, his expression unfathomable when he pressed his lips against her forehead. “You do that to me too, Meg. You’ll always be a part of me.”
Chapter Five
Holding Meg in his arms helped lower his blood pressure after the confrontation with June. Thank God she hadn’t blurted out his plans before he’d had a chance to tell them to Meg himself.
“Listen, I’m going to be here with Don for a couple more hours. Why don’t you go up to the house and see if Amy needs any help?”
“Actually—” Meg tilted her head to one side, considering, “—if you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow the truck? I need to run into Peterborough for a present that I’ve just remembered I need.”
Peterborough. That was safer than having her hang around here. With a sense of relief, he handed her his keys. “Use the GPS so you don’t get lost. And there’s a storm coming in again tonight. If the weather turns bad before you leave Peterborough, don’t try driving back. Just call me to let me know you’re safe.”
“The weather channel says it’s not supposed to hit until midnight tonight.”
“The weather channel didn’t predict the freezing rain the other day. Don’t take any chances if it’s snowing. Promise me.”
“I promise.” After sliding a glance at Don, she lifted up on her toes and brushed her lips over his. “It may be a while, so I can’t promise to be home before dark, but I’ll probably be home by suppertime.”
Wondering what the heck type of present she needed that would take that long to find in Peterborough, he watched her drive away.
When he turned around, Don had put down his tools and was frowning. “My mom didn’t piss her off, did she? Is that why she left?”
He replayed Meg’s response before he shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Mom’s really pissed at you.”
No shit, Sherlock. He hitched one hip on his own workbench. “What about you? Are you pissed at me too?”
“Nah.” One side of Don’s mouth quirked up. “She’s cute. Meg, I mean. In a hard-ass kinda way, but I get what you see in her.”
A car door slammed outside, followed by two heavier slams. The workshop door slid open and Derek walked in, Ryan’s agent by his side. “See, told you he was here.”
Roger stuck out his hand. “Hi, Ryan.”
When he shook Roger’s hand, his agent’s baby-soft skin made Ryan aware of just how callused and dirty his was. At least Roger did the courtesy of not whipping out the Purell or a wet wipe the way one of his clients had during the viewing.
“I thought you were going to pick this stuff after New Year’s.”
“Truck was available today and the buyer is anxious.” Roger shrugged. “So, is your baby ready to fly the nest?”
Ryan swallowed. No going back now. Besides, what he’d told Meg hadn’t been a lie. It would be a waste to leave the thing in the back of the workshop unseen, and he needed the funds to buy more supplies up north, not to mention if Sophie decided to live in England, she’d need extra funds. Still, the idea of turning his creation over to the men, sending it off on a plane, was like sending off his firstborn. Suck it up, Porter. “Yeah, let’s do this thing.”
Less than an hour later, the workmen swung the door shut, blocking Ryan’s final view of the dragon, and the truck’s engine rumbled to life. Ryan followed it a few paces as it eased onto the road, ignoring Roger standing beside him.
“It’s going to cost a hell of a lot of your profits if you go through with your plan. Not to mention the cost to ship the finished works back to civilization. I wish you’d rethink it.”
Figured Roger would be worried about the money. Sometimes he thought the guy wasn’t interested in the artistic side of the work at all, just how much of a cut he could weasel out of his clients. “I’m positive I’m doing the right thing. I love her, and I’m prepared to move wherever she is to be with her. Even if it means supplies may be hard to get, that I may not get the next contract or win the next prize because I’m not available. My mind is made up, so give it a rest.”
“Look, I get it. You love her. Fine. But why the hell doesn’t she transfer to Ontario? The RCMP have got an office in Bowmanville and Kingston, for Christ’s sake.”
“She tried.” Anger rising within him, Ryan took a deep breath. “She applied for a transfer last year but she didn’t get it. She’s tried, Roger. But because we have the provincial police, there are limited positions available here in Ontario.”
“Then why doesn’t she get a job with the O.P.P., for Christ’s sake? She’d still be a cop.”
“Because it’s always been her dream to be a Mountie and I’m not about to ask her to give that up.” He’d spent too many days railing at having his own dreams put on hold to ask that of anyone else.
“In other words, she doesn’t think you’re worth giving up her career for the way you’re giving up your career for her. Your relationship sounds pretty one-sided to me.”
“I told you. I’m not abou
t to ask her to give up her career when I can work anywhere.”
“How can you be sure she wants you to live with her twenty-four/seven? You see her, what, a couple months a year? How do you know she’s not been fucking around with some other guy up there while you’re down here?”
“Just because you and your wife cheated on each other doesn’t mean everyone else cheats. I trust Meg. The same way she trusts me not to cheat on her. And this is none of your business.”
Roger’s lips thinned until they were white. “I’m your agent—your career is exactly my business. Haven’t you put it on hold long enough while you’ve been playing daddy to your brothers and sister?”
“They would have done the same for me. Any one of them. And this conversation is over.” Ryan stalked back to his bench and picked up his coat.
“You’ve got talent, Ryan. Hell, you burst onto the scene, what, eighteen months ago? And I’ve already sold this piece for two hundred thousand.”
“I know, and I appreciate that you talked them into paying that much.”
“Talked them into it? Jeezus, you haven’t got a clue how talented you are, do you? That type of success doesn’t come along every day. Not to most folks. Some of them are almost as talented as you and have been working for thirty years. They’re existing by making door handles and coat hooks that they sell at arts and craft shows. That’s not for you. You’re better than that. The next one you make? I’m asking double. I’ve got clients lined up from Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver, Ireland, Houston, a couple in California. Hell, the show in Sydney will probably get you some sales. Now is not the time to make yourself unavailable.”
Nunavut was not unavailable. Sure, his cell reception might be spotty, and there may be delays getting supplies, but this wasn’t the 1800s where things took years to ship north. Ryan shrugged on his coat. “I told you, the subject is not up for discussion. I appreciate all you’ve done, but I’ve made up my mind so back off.”
“Christ, Porter, this chick better be the best damned piece of ass with the tightest cunt known to mankind to be worth you turning your back on the money I’m going to make you. Maybe I should hang around and see if she’ll give me a blowjob so I can judge for myself.”
His pulse roaring in his ears, Ryan balled his fist and drew his arm back.
Lucky for Roger, Derek stepped between them and caught Ryan’s hand midswing. He slammed Ryan against the wall and snarled low enough that Roger couldn’t hear. “You want to totally fuck up your career, bro? Because that’s the way to do it.”
“Fuck, Derek, didn’t you—”
“Yeah, I heard what he said, and if it was anyone else, I’d be whaling on him right along with you. But this guy holds your career in his palm and I am not about to let you destroy it. Now walk away.”
* * *
Meg took the stairs to Ryan’s apartment two at a time, excitement humming in her veins. Sure, she’d felt bad lying to Ryan about going to Peterborough instead of Orillia, and she’d gotten lost twice thanks to the damned GPS in Ryan’s truck, but the drive to the RCMP headquarters an extra hour in the opposite direction had been worth it. For such a small package, the weight of her new O.P.P. badge was heavy in her pocket. She couldn’t wait to see Ryan’s face when he opened it on Christmas morning. Of course, he’d have to give it back when she went on duty, but he’d understand the symbolism.
When she turned the handle, the door wouldn’t move. Locked out. Inside, the loft was dark. She tapped on the glass pane. “Ryan? Let me in. I’m home.”
No lights went on. No Ryan appeared.
She tried again. Still no Ryan.
Great.
Where was he? Guessing he was at Derek and Amy’s, she headed back to the truck. A rhythmic pounding of metal on metal coming from the workshop made her pause. Strange, there were no lights on... She opened the door to find Ryan backlit by the smoldering embers of the coal fire in his forge.
If only all her friends who hadn’t met him, who tried to hide sneers when she’d said she was dating an artist, could see him now. See the sweat glistening on his forearms and biceps from the heat of the fire, muscles strengthened and defined by hours of physical exertion.
An adjustment of the bar and he struck again and again, a man possessed.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He tossed the still-red-hot iron into a bucket. The water hissed and plumes of steam curled around him; he tilted his head back to the roof and roared like a wounded animal. His curses echoing off the rafters, Meg ducked as his hammer sailed across the room to thump off the door and land with a thud on the floor.
Oookaay, that wasn’t normal. Either something had happened earlier while she was away or it was simply the iron wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. She voted for the former.
While she was trying to figure out how to play it—light and teasing, or sympathetic—he saw her. “Oh shit, Meg—I could have hit you.” He stomped across the room and bent to pick up the hammer. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.” She tilted her head, unsure how to handle his unusually surly mood. “You usually work in the dark?”
“Hadn’t noticed it was dark.” He walked back to his bench where he braced his arms and hunched his shoulders. “You get what you needed in Peterborough?”
She fumbled with the wall switch, flipping it on. The bank of fluorescent lights hummed and flickered to life banishing the shadows from the back room and Meg realized the cause of his frustration. The dragon was gone. Guess it had meant more to him than he’d admitted.
“Yeah, I got exactly what I needed.” Exactly what he needed. Anticipation and impatience tugged at her pocket, tempting her to take out the badge and hand it to him now. No. She wanted it to be a Christmas memory they could tell in the years to come. Instead, she ran the flat of her hands over his shoulders and kneaded, worried about the muscles tense beneath her fingers. “Hey, are you hungry?”
“No. Amy sent over some dinner earlier.” He waved at a plate still piled high with lasagna and salad. “You want some? She’s probably got some she could heat up for you. Or you could finish mine.”
“I grabbed a burger before I left. But that’s not the type of hungry I was talking about.” She slid her hands beneath his leather apron and cupped his groin. “Maybe I could help take your mind off things?”
His chin fell to his chest, his body stiff against hers. “I’m not sure how much control I have right now, Meg.”
God, she loved when his voice dropped into that deep-throated growl. Sex with Ryan was always good, but those days he was on edge? Bring it, baby. “You’ve never lost control with me before. I trust you.”
He moved quicker than she’d anticipated, closing the distance between them and pressing her against the foot-wide beam in the center of the room. He tangled his fist in her hair and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. One-handed he untied his leather apron and dropped it with a thud on the floor between them. “On your knees.”
Yes, sir. Once she’d assumed the position, she bowed her head, licking her lips in preparation.
“You know what I want.”
She knew what he needed—hard and fast release from whatever demons taunted him. Her panties damp from anticipation, she reached up and undid his zipper, lowering it over the knot of flesh stretching the denim.
“Take it out.”
With pleasure. She freed his erection, letting her fingers slide over the already glistening head, down the shaft to stroke the tender sac beneath.
“Stop playing.” He tugged on her hair, tightening it until she met his gaze. The tightness of his jaw, the wildness in his eyes, sent a shivery heat into her belly and lower. “Suck it down.”
He wrapped one hand around the shaft and pressed it against her lips. She parted her lips and leaned forward, swallowing him down. His taste was an aphrodisiac that had her clenching her thighs together as she rocked him in and out of her mouth.
Was there anything sexier than his groans as she in
creased the pressure, or the pained expression on his face when her tongue played with the head?
As her rocking quickened, he braced one hand on the beam behind her, his belly twitching, his breath rough. Beneath her tongue his cock pulsed and swelled. His head lolled back so she couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew they’d be scrunched closed in a last desperate effort to hold off his climax. Her fingers curled around his balls again, found that sensitive spot between there and his ass and pressed.
“Fuck yeah!” His essence sprayed over her tongue in pulsing waves and still she didn’t let up until he pulled from her and sagged to his knees in front of her.
Satisfied she’d tamed his beast, she sat back and caught his head against her shoulder. Was there anything more powerful than knowing that when she could make him lose control?
But when he lifted his head, his eyes were just as dark, just as heated as they had been before.
“Whatever you want tonight, I’m yours.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” He stood and pulled her up with him then tucked himself back into his jeans. “I’ll want things from you tonight. Things you may not want to let me do.”
There wasn’t much she hadn’t let him do, that she hadn’t asked him to do. Fascinated by the fierceness in his eyes, she cupped his jaw. “Bring it on.”
His gaze darted to the door, to his bench, to the empty floor where the dragon had stood only hours earlier. “Come upstairs with me.”
Instead of leading her back to his loft as she’d expected, he headed to the far end and slid aside a panel she hadn’t noticed before. She followed him up the rough wood staircase, the wood creaking with each step. Shadows shifted and moved in the light of the single bare bulb swinging on a wire from the rafters high above. The walls of the stairwell ended at the floor above, opening into what must have once been a storage area when this had been used as the sawmill barn.
Moonlight streamed through the massive window at the far end and streaked across the floor, highlighting the rough planks on the floor, the wood still bearing the tool marks from when they’d first been hewn the century before. Many of the beams on the walls had drawings tacked to them, wood and clay carvings lay half-finished or abandoned along the sides, though a few perched on cross beams as if they’d gained or sought his approval. The parachute he’d used on his single jump billowed from the ceiling, a multicolored canopy over the mattress in the corner. A swing unlike any other she’d seen hung from the central beam, moving slightly as she walked past.