by Vivian Arend
“Convenient.”
“Pretty,” she corrected. “It’s a part of my relaxation therapy. Never thought I’d need them for this.”
Steam rose from the tub. “Thank God for gas hot-water heaters. I didn’t make it too hot though—you’re too cold. We can add hotter water once you’ve warmed up.”
Hope nodded. “Matt? You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?”
He was thinking things that were going to send him to hell. He undid the button on her jeans as quickly as possible, opening the zipper. Ignored her soft gasp as his cold knuckles bumped the heated skin of her bare belly. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay. Take off your pants and get in the tub.”
She obeyed clumsily. “You too, right?”
Bloody hell. “Yes, me too. I’m fucking freezing and I’m soaking wet. Don’t worry, it’ll be crowded, but your virtue is safe.”
Hope laughed as she lifted one long leg over the edge of the tub, the sound turning to a moan of pleasure as the water surrounded her.
Matt was a dead man walking. He couldn’t get in the tub now, not without her knowing he had a woody the size of a bull’s. How he had gotten a hard-on when he was this bloody cold, he had no idea, but the damn thing was there. Insistently there.
She was all the way in, liquid soaking her T-shirt and making it cling to her body. He stared and reconsidered. He could strip and wrap himself in blankets in the living room. He’d already taken a step toward the door when she spoke.
“Matt? I know this is awkward, but if you don’t get your ass in the tub right now I’ll track you down and make you regret it. I don’t care if you’ve got a hard-on, I’ve seen one before. I know it’s a natural reaction, and it doesn’t mean anything.”
Shit. “What the—”
“I danced for years, Matt. Put myself through school showing skin, and I know the female body turns guys on even if their brain isn’t engaged. I understand what happened this summer. Enough. It’s forgotten. Just get in the tub.”
Matt figured he was about fifty shades of red, but obeyed. Dragged his jeans down his thighs, deliberately not looking to see if she was watching. Because if she had her gaze on him and there was even a hint of attraction, he wouldn’t know what to do.
And if she was watching with total disinterest that might be worse.
He stripped to his T-shirt and boxers before glancing her way. She sat in the middle of the tub, leaning against the side. Her body was curled into a ball, head back on the tiles, eyes closed. There was enough room for him at the top of the tub to step into the heated water—he groaned as loudly as she had, it felt so damn wonderful—before he sat and tugged her into his lap.
“I’m glad you have such an open mind about things, darling, but if it weren’t for the fact I’m afraid you’d fall asleep and drown, I’d keep my carcass out of your way right now.”
Hope twisted until she lay flat out on top of him, hip tight to his groin, head turned so her cheek rested on his chest. “Fine by me, any excuse you want to use. Just get your hands back in the water before your fingers fall off and my guilty conscience forces me to sew you special gloves for the rest of your life.”
Matt snorted, but obeyed, slipping his hands around her and resting them on her belly. He linked his fingers together to be sure he didn’t accidentally touch anything he shouldn’t.
No matter how much he wanted to.
“By the way, thank you for rescuing me.” Her voice, soft and low, tickled his ears.
“No troubles.”
She shivered once more before relaxing with a deep sigh. “So, Matt Coleman. Can we start again?”
What was she up to? “Start again?”
Her body shook with soft laughter. “We’re sitting in a tub of water in our undies. This situation calls for some explaining. Since we’re not going to be lovers, I’d like us to go back to being friends. I’ve missed having you around since Helen deserted us. I’m sorry she was a shit to you, but I hope you won’t hold her actions against me.”
The matter-of-fact way she said it, with a cute, slightly sleepy after-yawn, wiped away the sexual stress and chaos of the past hours. He hadn’t realized that Helen had abandoned others as well.
Hope was smart, quick-witted…and a desirable woman, but the sexual part would just have to wait for someone other than him. “I would be honoured to be your friend, Ms. Meridan.”
She lifted one hand out of the water, palm toward him, and this time he laughed as he gave her a high-five, like he’d done off and on over the years since they’d been teenagers.
Friends. Yeah. He could do that.
3
The nonchalance she’d donned like a cloak was harder to maintain once she was warm enough to concentrate on something other than the ice in her limbs. Things like his firm body under hers.
The tingling in her extremities slowly faded. The tingling in her core refused to go away.
“How do you like running the shop?” His deep growly voice tickled her ears at the same time he wiggled just enough to scrape his whiskered chin over her shoulder. She hoped the lingering chill in the air would stand as a good enough excuse for the goose bumps that rose in response.
“Stitching Post?” Hope shrugged, then froze as that motion slid their skin together too intimately. “It’s amazing. Although, there are moments, like when I’ve got more work to do than seems humanly possible, I wonder why in the world I thought being a business owner was a good idea.”
Matt chuckled. “The chores can seem unending, can’t they?”
“Like ninety five percent of the time?”
“At least you don’t have to muck shit.”
A laugh escaped her and she manoeuvred carefully to the bottom of the giant tub, slipping between his knees as she dipped her hands in the water one last time. “There is that. You’re right. If we want to play ‘who has the dirtiest tasks’, I’m pretty sure the ranch wins. But mindless? Matt, you need to try restocking the thread bins sometime.”
He sat straighter, his wet shirt clinging to the ridges of the six-pack muscles covering his abdomen. Oh dear. Hope dragged her gaze away.
“Those little white spool things? They got numbers on them, right?”
“Yeah, only they slip out of the rack on a spring-loaded system, which makes it oh-so-fun for the kids who get away from their moms to stand and one after another make them go ping ping ping across the room. One day I swear I reloaded that thing four times before I caught the little vermin and tied them down.”
Matt was laughing as she stood and reached for the towel. The timbre of the sound changed then cut off. She steadily ignored him, stepping onto the bathmat to catch the drips.
Yeah, she had enough body to catch anyone’s attention. She wasn’t unaware of it. Only she wasn’t trying to make this any harder for him than it already was.
The sheer dirtiness of her thought patterns made her want to snort. Poor baby. Hard?
“You warm already?” Matt crossed his hands over his lap casually, pulling his knees up to hide what must be another erection. Although she didn’t think he’d really lost the first one.
“Warm enough to go…”
The power was still out. What in the world was she leaving to go do?
Matt smirked. “I think you need to reconsider your options, friend. You were pretty chilled. The apartment isn’t getting any warmer.”
“So we’re going to sit in the tub all night?”
“Until we’re wrinkled like prunes.”
She shivered, and his expression changed, this time from lighthearted to deep concern.
Not even that was enough to stop her from getting out of temptation’s reach. “Now don’t look like that. I’m okay. Let me get a bunch of layers on, and I’ll be fine. You stay in the tub for a bit then we can talk about what happens next.”
It was the best idea—he couldn’t argue with her logic. When he nodded, she picked up one of the candles and used it to reach her bedroom.
She tapped on the bathroom door. “Knock, knock. Is it safe to enter, your majesty?”
“My kingdom consists of six feet of water, two feet deep. One knock will suffice.”
Hope laughed and opened the door, her amusement dying away as she took him in. Candlelight glowed over Matt’s naked skin—he’d taken off his wet T-shirt, and all those ridges she’d felt under her before were now out in public. It wasn’t clear right off if he’d also removed the boxers. She wasn’t sure she could handle knowing.
Sweet mercy, what evil thing had she done to be tormented like this?
Ignoring him completely—ha!—Hope strode to the sink and plopped down the pile of clothing. She clicked on the spare flashlight and set it on the counter as well.
“I found some things that should fit you. If you’re warm enough, I thought you could get dressed. You could be home pretty quick.” She turned and looked him in the eye. “I have tons of quilts. I won’t freeze. And if you’re worried about the roads, you’re welcome to stay as well.”
Matt returned her gaze steadily. “I’m not worried about the roads, but if we went to my folks’ place, there’s a fireplace…”
“I’m sure the power will be back on soon. You hungry?”
He had to realize she was deliberately changing the topic. She was damn stubborn when she needed to be. She was not leaving her place and that was final.
Matt nodded. “A sandwich would be good.”
Then he moved to stand and she fled the room as casually as she could. Because there was no way, even with talk of being friends and all that nonsense, that she could watch his beautiful body any longer without giving in to the desire to drag her fingers over him. To follow her fingers with her tongue.
Yeah, friends. What had seemed like a simply marvelous idea at the time simply sucked.
She’d brought him his own clothes. A pair of sweats. A T-shirt. Thick sweatshirt. The only thing that didn’t belong to him were the socks, and those looked hand-knit.
Matt dragged the towel over his skin harder than needed to dry himself. It was useless though. Scrubbing away the pain of the past was impossible.
Another sign of his fucked-up relationship—he tugged on the sweats. A pair that he’d left at Helen’s one day. The T-shirt? One she’d said was her favourite. He could picture her pulling it on her naked body after they’d made love. Could imagine he still smelt her scent on the fabric, and a knife drove through him hard enough to kill the lingering sexual frustration that had built over the past hour.
Matt sat on the edge of the tub and wrestled with the demons in his soul. Helen hadn’t only left him, she’d cheated on him first. Called him and his choices stupid and shitty. Blaming her words on the alcohol she’d consumed over New Year’s Eve could only excuse so much. Drunk as a skunk, what she’d really been thinking and feeling had exploded out. Even her apology later that week before she left town for good had been no kind of an apology. More of a rationalization on her part, as if he had to agree that the big city had more to offer.
The fact Helen had the guts to beg him to join her—to abandon his family and simply up and leave—the memory of that scene cut off any sympathy he might have had for her.
He pulled on the T-shirt. It was just a chunk of material. The sweatshirt would keep him warm. They had nothing to do with any past memories.
If he kept pretending, maybe that would make it true.
He didn’t bother to look in the mirror, because he knew his expression was dark and angry. Matt blew out the candles one after another, trying to blow away his frustrations at the same time. Because out in the living area was a different woman than the one who had hurt him so badly. Hope wasn’t responsible for her sister’s offenses.
The knit socks cradled his feet on the hardwood floor, like furry caterpillars cocooned around him. He found Hope in the kitchen, the diffuse flashlights making her eyes darker as she handed over a plate and nodded toward the living room. “I’m having a bite then heading to bed. If you want to stay, you’re welcome to.”
Matt accepted the food and followed her into the living room. She plopped on the floor in front of him, dragged a quilt around her shoulders and basically all but vanished from sight. The only things still visible were her hands as she took up her sandwich and brought it under the hanging edge of the quilt draped over her head.
He sat on the couch and tossed the jean quilt behind him over his lap. It was cold in the room, but not cold enough he needed to hide. “You do have enough quilts to outfit all of Rocky.”
Her smile peeked out from under the covering. “I will never freeze. The apartment pipes may burst, but a woman who can sew will never go cold.”
The sandwiches slid down easily. Hope had turned on her iPod, plugging it into a speaker system. Music filled the quiet around them.
“Batteries?”
The pile of fabric nodded. “Lasts a few hours at least. I like being able to take my own music with me wherever I go. I’ve got another speaker set up in the shop, although the play list is more applicable to the average customer’s tastes. This…” she nodded at the player, “…this is my shit.”
It was louder and raunchier than what Matt usually listened to. “That’s not country.”
A laugh burst out. “Damn right it’s not.”
“That’s almost sacrilegious, isn’t it?” Matt finished the final bite of his sandwich and followed it down with the pickle she’d popped on the plate.
“I enjoy country in moderation. Get to listen to it in all the grocery stores and everywhere else in town. So when I’m on my own, I balance it with other flavours.”
She leaned over to hit the forward button, and the quilts fell away, the combination of the long line of her neck and her bright smile warming him inside more than it should.
The music changed, and this time it was his turn to laugh. “Is that an accordion?”
“Yeah, I’ve got eclectic tastes. Keeps things interesting.”
She yawned then rubbed her hands together briskly. “Sorry for abandoning you after you saved my butt and all, but I’m exhausted. You planning on staying or heading home?”
Matt checked his watch. Shit. “I have to get up in four hours. If you don’t mind me staying…”
Hope rose, still clutching the bundle around her.
“There’s—” Her eyes went wide and she stared in consternation. “Oh, fuck it. It seems I’m going to keep kicking you in the balls, Matt Coleman, even though that’s not my intention. You can sleep out here on the couch that’s way too small for you, or you can have my bed. Or you can have the spare bedroom, but that was…”
Fuck it was right. “Helen’s room.”
Hope nodded slowly.
It wasn’t the end of the world. “It’s just a bed. I’d head home now, but it makes no sense to start the truck, scrape the windows clear, fight my way through the fresh snow to my trailer and then have to do it all over in three hours’ time.”
Hope nodded, more briskly this time. “This way. There’s a wind-up old alarm that used to belong to my grandpa if you want it.”
She grabbed for the quilts on the couch. All the way down the hall, Matt wondered what evil karma he’d earned to deserve getting the hell beat out of him this way. When she hustled him into the room and piled the bed high with quilts, there was nothing left but to deal with his torment.
Hope stood in the doorway, hands clutched together. “You got what you need?”
Matt nodded. “I’ll leave as quietly as I can in the morning. Okay if I just pull the door locked after me?”
“Perfect, because honestly, I’m not getting up with you. Help yourself to whatever you want out of the fridge.” Those blue eyes of h
ers caught him again, her expression serious. “Again, thank you. This evening could have ended way differently if you hadn’t come along.”
Then she was gone, the wink of her flashlight disappearing behind her door.
He turned to face his fate.
It was just a bloody bed. He crawled in with his clothes still on, tugging the quilts right up to his chin. Lying in the dark, slowing his breathing, trying to calm the wild activity in his brain.
It was no use. It might be self-torture, but he had to do it. He sat up and shined the light around the place, looking for signs of Helen, looking for anything that would poke him and make him bleed.
Nothing. It was just a bedroom.
The ghosts wavered and faded to mist. There was enough heat generated from his body and the food in his belly to allow him to relax. He turned off the light and covered his ears. Yeah, the only thing haunting him right now had nothing to do with the knowledge that his ex-lover had slept in this room.
It was the bright-eyed woman on the other side of the wall, her enthusiastic laugh and her kindhearted actions that dogged his thoughts as he fell asleep.
4
The welcoming tinkle from the bells attached to the shop’s front door brought Hope from her inventory to greet a massive armload of familiar-looking supplies moving toward her.
“How…?”
The boxes lowered to reveal another familiar sight. Clay Thompson, old classmate and sometime dance partner, flashed her a smile. “Got a few things for you. Must have fallen out of Santa’s sled or something.”
“That’s the stuff from my car.” She came forward to pull the topmost of the pile off and lay it on a table. “Oh man, thank you for grabbing it for me. When I called this morning your dad said the tow truck was already gone.”
“Yeah, Matt Coleman phoned first thing. We had to rescue a couple others before your car, but she’s at the shop now.”