by Noelle Adams
“I don’t think I asked for your advice.” She was pleased her tone sounded cool and lofty rather than petulant.
“Brad would never forgive me if I let you take pneumonia. Not to mention your mom. Can you imagine how she’d lecture me?”
“I’m not going to take pneumonia. Don’t be melodramatic.” She did shoulder off her coat, though, and leaned down to unzip her pretty, impractical boots.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked, watching as she pressed into it, trying to check its condition.
“Fine. Just twisted it.” It felt more like a sprain, but she wasn’t going to make a fuss. Especially in front of David.
“Come on,” he said, stretching a hand toward her. “You need to warm up.”
She didn’t object, since her teeth were still chattering. She let him put an arm around her again so she could lean against him as they walked.
It was worse this time, now that they weren’t wearing thick coats. She could feel his warmth, smell his familiar scent, and feel the solid substance of his body beneath his clothes.
He led her to the radiator in the kitchen, conveniently located near the kitchen table. She sat on a chair in front of the pleasantly wafting heat, finally having the courage to take off the gloves.
Her hands hurt like hell.
She’d been wearing David’s gloves, though, which meant he hadn’t been wearing any. So she wasn’t about to complain that her hands were raw and numb.
She held her hands closer to the radiator and tried not to wince as the heat hit them.
He sat down on a chair next to her and, without speaking, took one of her hands in both of his, gently rubbing it to restore the circulation.
He worked with his hands every day—he had all his life—so they were rough, strong, and calloused. But he was gentle as he massaged her frozen fingers, and he didn’t say a word.
He wasn’t even looking at her, his eyes focused down on their hands.
For some reason—for no good reason—she felt her eyes burn with tears and her throat tighten.
She’d always thought he was gentle beneath his tough exterior. That was how he’d seemed growing up. He would beat up bullies at school and take care of stray dogs. He’d helped her with her car, with her science projects, and with boys that wouldn’t leave her alone, long before he thought about her as anything but his friend’s little sister.
He’d been so careful—almost tender—when they’d made love under that tree. He’d been eager but realized she was nervous, so he’d gone very slowly to make sure she enjoyed it too.
Even in the last few years, she couldn’t help but see how he silently helped people who needed it—plowing snow from driveways for a few elderly women at church who would never be able to afford to pay, keeping Brad out of trouble when he’d gone through a bitter divorce two years ago and might have drunk himself into a stupor.
Rachel just couldn’t understand. How David could seem to have such a kind heart. How he could massage her hands so gently even now.
And yet still have stomped her heart into the mud eight years ago.
She had to close her eyes, since for a moment she was sure she would cry.
It was probably just the aftermath of the cold and effort, but her heart ached as much as her body.
David had moved on to her other hand, and her fingers weren’t quite so painful. She’d stopped shivering.
And now she was sitting in front of a radiator thinking soft thoughts about the man she was supposed to hate.
She pulled her hand away from his and made herself stand up. “I need to change clothes.”
She wore a gray, pinstripe pants suit—stylish, flattering, and more expensive than she could really afford. The bottom half of her pants were now soaking wet.
He stood up too, and she could feel his dark eyes searching her face.
She hoped he wouldn’t see how emotional she’d gotten, since she thought she’d managed to control her expression, but he reached out and softly thumbed away a stray tear she hadn’t realized had streamed from her eye.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice strangely thick. His brow lowered like he was trying to figure something out.
He was probably wondering if she was really as pitiful as she appeared, still mooning over a man who’d dumped her almost a decade ago.
She couldn’t bear for him to think that. She’d humiliated herself enough for one day.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, putting on the pose of indifference that had protected her for all these years. “It looks like you’ll be stuck here for a while.”
She limped over to her suitcase, which she’d left in the hallway when she’d arrived to find an empty house, but David beat her to it. He carried her luggage to her bedroom—the same room she’d slept in all her life—and she mumbled thanks before she shut the door in his face.
She could get through this. The weather would hopefully clear up before evening.
She was an adult. She was a successful professional. She’d gone out with plenty of men since she’d been in love with David back then.
Being stuck with him for a day wasn’t the end of the world.
He just didn’t mean that much to her anymore.
Two
“I’m sorry we can’t get home,” her mother said, her voice clearly anxious on the other end of the phone call. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” As she talked, Rachel pulled on thick purple socks, carefully maneuvering one of them over the bandage she’d wrapped her ankle in. “It’s no big deal. Of course, you and Brad can’t come out here tonight if the weather is still so bad.”
“At least David is there. I’d be so nervous if you were all by yourself in that big house in the storm.”
Rachel rolled her eyes but managed not to say anything rude.
“He’s such a dear boy. Did I tell you he spent a whole Saturday helping poor Mr. Foster rebuild his porch after that terrible thunderstorm this summer?”
“Yes. You told me.”
“He’s always been so helpful and generous. I just don’t know why your grandfather didn’t like him.”
“You know very well why Grandpa didn’t like him. His mom wasn’t married and worked in a bar, and that meant David was beneath us.”
There had been rumors about his mother—about her doing more than working in the bar—but Rachel had tried never to listen to them.
“You shouldn’t speak that way about your grandfather, especially now that he’s dead. He was so good to us.”
“I loved Grandpa too, and I appreciate all he did for us. But he was a closed-minded, judgmental snob, and there’s no getting around it.”
Rachel’s father had walked out on her mother shortly after she and Brad were born. Most of the time, she resented him for abandoning his family. Occasionally, however, she understood how difficult it would have been to be the son-in-law of her grandfather, who ran his daughter’s life the same way he ran the county.
Rachel had run herself ragged trying to make sure her interest in David as a teenager was hidden from her grandfather, since he never would have approved and she never would have heard the end of it.
As it turned out, David had dumped her before her grandfather ever found out.
“I wish you wouldn’t say such things,” her mother murmured, clearly agreeing with Rachel’s assessment but preferring not to hear it said.
“I’m sorry. The point is David is here if there’s an emergency, but I’d be perfectly fine on my own. You and Brad stay safe and don’t try to come out tonight. We’ll still have Christmas together.”
Rachel let out a long exhale as she ended the call.
Her mom was feeling bad enough. She wasn’t about to let her know how horrible spending the night here with David in the middle of an ice storm was going to be for Rachel.
At least the house was big. Six bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a huge basement family room. Her grandfather had spared no expense when he’d
restored the hundred-year-old farmhouse. She could keep her distance from David until morning.
She stood up from her bed and checked herself out in the full-length mirror.
She’d taken a hot shower to warm herself up and get the ice out of her hair, and then she’d put on yoga pants and a soft green sweater that matched her eyes and flattered her figure. She was smoothing down her hair when she realized what she was doing.
Primping. Making sure she looked pretty for when she saw David again.
Disgusted with herself, she pulled the sweater off over her head and dug in her closet until she found an oversized, worn sweatshirt from their high school football team that used to be Brad’s.
She pulled the sweatshirt on instead. It was very baggy on her small body. Not flattering at all.
Much better.
Then she went into the bathroom and braided her hair into two long braids. She wore her hair that way around her apartment, since the style kept it out of her way and didn’t poke the back of her head like a ponytail did. But she wasn’t in the habit of wearing pigtails in public.
The braids and baggy sweatshirt made her look like a little girl, but she didn’t care.
She didn’t want David to think for a moment that she wanted to look pretty for him.
And she didn’t want to confuse herself that way either.
Her ankle still hurt, but she could walk better now that it was wrapped. She limped downstairs and found David in the kitchen.
She stood in the doorway, staring at him. He knelt on the ground, bending over at a strange angle, working at one of the cabinet hinges with a screwdriver he’d flipped out from the multi-tool he always carried.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He jerked, evidently startled by her presence. He actually hit his head on the top of the cabinet as he attempted to straighten up.
“What does it look like?”
She didn’t appreciate his grumpy tone. “It looks like you’re doing something to my mom’s cabinet door.”
“All the hinges are loose. I was just tightening them.”
“You’ve been here less than thirty minutes. Why would you feel the need to meddle with my mother’s hinges?”
“What else do I have to do? I was making coffee and noticed that the cabinet door was about to fall off. So I checked the rest and they’re all loose.”
She went to the coffee pot, which he’d gestured toward by way of evidence for the validity of his claims. She poured herself a cup of coffee, since it was already made.
“We don’t need your help with the cabinets.”
“Well, someone needed to fix them, and no one had. I don’t know why Brad would have let them go so long.”
“They’re my mother’s cabinets. Not Brad’s.”
“Do you really think your mother’s going to get down on her hands and knees like this and tighten the screws?”
She wouldn’t—obviously. Her mother had bad knees and hadn’t done a piece of manual labor in her life. Rachel’s grandfather probably wouldn’t have let her, even if she’d felt the inclination.
“Would you stop?” Rachel felt an irrational resentment at the sight of David working in her mother’s kitchen. “You don’t need to do work around our house.”
He shrugged and ignored her. “I only have two more to go.”
She gave a frustrated huff as she poured cream into her coffee.
She tried not to watch David work. Bending over as he was gave her a great view of muscular thighs and a very fine ass through the denim of his jeans.
He was absolutely infuriating. And even more so because he was so damned hot.
“How’s your ankle?” His voice was muffled because his head was basically inside one of the bottom cabinets, but she heard it well enough.
“It’s fine. My mom says they can’t get out here tonight because of the weather, so she and Brad are staying in town.”
“I could have told you that.”
She took a deep breath to keep from snapping at him. She’d vowed during her shower that she was going to be as civil as she could, but he was already testing her patience. “I’m surprised, with your almighty powers of prediction, that you couldn’t forecast the storm and avoid getting stuck on the icy roads today.”
“It came in quicker than it was supposed to.”
That was what Brad had said too.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your fun with the screwdriver. I’m going to—”
She broke off when loud clicks and beeps sounded from different parts of the house. All the lights went out.
It wasn’t dark outside yet, so she could still see around the room, but she knew very well what this meant. “Damn it.”
“I’m surprised the power lasted as long as it did with all this ice.” David closed the last cabinet door and straightened up. His expression changed when his eyes landed on her for the first time. “I haven’t seen that sweatshirt for a long time.”
She’d worn it all through high school and college, after stealing it from Brad’s closet. It had always been her favorite, despite how big it was on her.
She pushed the cuffs up to her wrists self-consciously, uncomfortable at the softness of David’s mouth. “Can we try to focus on essentials? We need to switch over to the generator or it’s going to get really cold in here tonight.”
He stood up. “Is your panel in the basement?”
“Yeah. I’ll go switch it on.”
She found a flashlight and headed down to the transfer switch in the basement and was annoyed that David came with her.
When she switched to the generator panel, nothing happened.
David peered at it, checking out the wires and connections. “It’s all hooked up right. I’ll have to check out the outside unit.”
David could do every kind of home repair. Carpentry, tiling, plumbing, electrical, anything that could be done with tools and his hands. He’d built his house from the ground up—entirely by himself. He would know how to fix the generator, if it was possible in this situation.
“It’s just off the deck, isn’t it?” he asked as they went back upstairs.
“Yeah. Next to the air conditioner thingy.”
“Compressor,” he corrected automatically, causing her to frown.
David strode to the mud room, and Rachel followed more slowly because of her ankle. When he pulled his coat on, she started to put hers on as well.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“To check out the generator. What did you think?”
“There’s no reason for you to go out too.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“It’s a one-person job, and you have a sprained ankle and—”
“A twisted ankle.”
“A sprained ankle and damp hair. Your braids would freeze and break off.”
She stared at him in disbelief, until she saw the corner of his mouth twitch just slightly.
He was mocking her.
Ridiculously, she wanted to smile in response to the suppressed amusement in his expression. Fortunately, she was able to resist the impulse.
“I wouldn’t risk it,” he continued, giving one of her braids a little flick. “Just think how long it took you to grow your hair out to this length.”
It had taken her years, and the thought gave her pause. She’d heard stories of women’s hair freezing when wet and snapping off. She just wasn’t sure if they were urban legends or not.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an obnoxious asshole?” she gritted out from between her teeth.
“No one but you.” He opened the patio door, letting in a rush of frigid air and sharp sleet. “Seriously, Rachel. Unless you know how to fix a generator, you’re not going to be able to help me out there. Please stay inside.”
“Fine. Since you said ‘please’.”
She had no desire to go back out in the ice, after her trip down and up the driveway. But she still felt like she should
go with David, even though she wouldn’t be any earthly good, merely to prove she was capable of it.
She waited at the patio door and watched. She didn’t have a view of the generator, so she didn’t know what he was doing out there. The weather was horrible, though, and the longer he was outside, the more worried she became.
After a few minutes, she remember seeing a bag of ice melt in the mudroom, and she realized she should put some down on the deck so David wouldn’t slip and twist his ankle too as he came back.
She grabbed the bag and then opened the sliding door. The deck was slick as an ice rink, but she very carefully sprinkled the ice melt, bracing herself against the wind and the sleet.
She saw David approaching in the yard. His head was ducked to protect his face, so he didn’t see her until he stepped onto the deck.
She was hurriedly sprinkling the ice melt over the last few feet he would have to walk over.
“Get back inside,” he bellowed as he strode over toward her and started pushing her back to the house. “Are you crazy?”
He slammed the door shut and rubbed the ice off his face.
“There’s no reason to yell at me like that. I was trying to help.”
“You don’t even have a coat on.”
It was true, but it didn’t make his rudeness any more palatable. Deciding to rise above him by maintaining her manners, she asked coolly, “Were you able to fix the generator?”
“No. The battery’s dead. Brad evidently hasn’t tried to turn the thing on for months, which defeats the purpose of even having a standby generator.”
“Would we have a spare battery on hand, do you think?” She had no idea, since she hadn’t lived in this house for years.
“Probably not. We can look.”
They traipsed back down to the basement, where the supplies were kept, after briefly arguing about whether she would go with him, but there was no spare battery for the generator.
“What was Brad thinking?” David muttered as he scanned the shelves one last time. “He should be testing that thing every month, at the very least. I test mine every week.”