Chapter 14
THANKSGIVING MORNING I woke around nine to the sound of my cell phone ringing. It was Henry calling to see how I was faring. Listening to his tone of voice, I tried to figure out his mood, but it was the usual clipped accent with no inflections whatsoever. How had the date gone? I hoped he and Mrs. Pennington had kissed as passionately as Ciaran and I. Ciaran. I almost let out a groan at the mere thought of him.
“Did you hear what I said, Miss Heywood?”
“No, I’m sorry. What was that?”
“I said we need to understand the details for today. The agenda and all.”
The agenda? Could Henry be more uptight? It was possible he needed to have sex even more than I. “Come at three. All of you.”
He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Pennington as well?”
“Depends. How did last night go?”
“Fine.” Aha! I detected a smile in his voice.
I decided not to torture him by teasing him. It was Thanksgiving after all. “Can you bring them all out? Moonstone, too?”
“Yes. About that.” He paused. “She and Sam. Well, they seem to be…how shall I say it? Becoming close?”
“How close?”
“She seems to think she can hear his thoughts. The two of them have been huddled up together on the couch since early this morning. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Weird?”
“Right,” said Henry.
“Moonstone’s a weird one. No doubt. But she’s harmless.”
“I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“What’s this, Henry? You going soft on me?”
“Hardly. We’ll see you at three.”
“Splendid. Did I sound British just now?”
A sigh from the other end of the phone. “Not even slightly.”
I called my sister next, confirming that the guests were arriving at three and asking when I should come to the big house to help her cook. She laughed at the suggestion. “No need to help in the kitchen. I have Rori.”
“What? I can help,” I said. “You know, stuff the turkey or whatever one does on this gluttonous holiday.”
“You’re going to stuff the turkey?”
“Uh. Sure. If you need me to.” I shuddered, thinking of the inside of a turkey carcass. “Do you have any plastic gloves?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, the turkey’s already in the oven. Rori and Lola are here helping me cook and Ciaran’s bringing a few dishes. You and Clementine can set and decorate the table. How’s that?”
“I’m as talented as an eight-year-old. Great.”
“Well, you might consider taking instructions from her, actually.”
I flushed, remembering the microwave incident from last night. “Any idea when Ciaran’s coming over?” Was that a guilty squeak in my voice? If so, Blythe didn’t seem to notice.
“Three or so. He just called and said he’s elbow deep in sweet potatoes. He’s making a soufflé.”
A soufflé? That sounded serious.
We hung up and I got out of the warm bed, shivering from the chill of the room.
After dressing in yoga clothes, I went through my daily routine of poses in front of the fireplace, then showered, fixed my hair and face but dressed in the robe I found hanging in the bathrobe instead of clothes. I smiled, thinking of Henry and his request for the agenda. Lounging in front of the fireplace was my agenda for this morning, I thought, as I perused the novels in the bookcase before choosing a mystery set in Seattle. Perfect vacation book, I thought. I put the book on the coffee table and went in search of food.
Grapes, a boiled egg and a piece of toast made a fine breakfast as I sat on the couch eating and gazing out the window. The clouds had parted to let in a sliver of sunshine that made crystals sparkle on the blanket of snow. Tree limbs heavy with snow hung low like the curve of a white swan’s neck. My thoughts went to Ciaran, unfortunately, wondering if he had thought of me at all this morning. After my meal, I wandered back to the kitchen, deciding a cup of coffee sounded like the perfect partner to a good book. I found a bag of coffee grounds in the freezer and located a small maker under the sink. I scooped a generous amount into the metal filter, liking my coffee strong, and had just hit the start button when a knock on the door startled me. Probably one of the little girls, I thought.
But when I opened the door, it was Ciaran. He held two oblong contraptions made of orange canvas encased by metal with a dangerous looking clamp in the middle that reminded me of an animal trap.
“What are those?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer. “Please tell me those don’t go on a person’s feet.”
“They do, indeed. Snowshoes.”
I looked down at his feet. He wore a pair of the contraptions and they were covered in snow. Behind him on the porch were two backpacks and two sets of poles. “Snowshoes? For me?” I asked.
“Yes. Your gateway to the great outdoors even during snowy season.” He shook them above his head like they were trophies. “I’ve come to take you snowshoeing. No better way to see the property than walking.”
Snowshoes? I knew nothing of these awkward looking things and had no intention whatsoever of walking in the snow or anywhere else with them attached to my feet. No, I would stay inside with my book rather than go out into the elements. Much safer on all counts.
“I kind of made plans to stay in and read this morning.” I clutched the collar of the bathrobe, feeling quite naked and vulnerable underneath. “I’m not dressed, as you can see.”
His eyes ventured lazily down the length of my body. I felt my nipples harden and moved my arm to cover them. “I can see that.” He moved his gaze back to my face.
“I thought you were cooking?” I asked.
“I am. And I need your help.” His eyes twinkled. “With the microwave.”
“Very funny.”
“Actually, I’m all finished. I woke early this morning. Restless. I can’t imagine why.” He raised an eyebrow before glancing behind me. “Is that fresh coffee I smell?”
“I suppose you want a cup?”
“Sounds delicious. Thank you for offering.”
“Fine. Come in, but I’m not going snowshoeing.” I stepped back and indicated that he should come inside, knowing I might never get rid of him and not even sure I really wanted to.
He unsnapped his feet from the snowshoes, stamped his boots against the floorboards of the porch and followed me inside. He set the snowshoes meant for me, and his bag, on the table and hung his jacket and cap on one of the hooks near the door. I hadn’t noticed the hooks last night—apparently too distracted by the company, I thought, glancing at him. His hair stood up in all directions. I wanted to run my hands through every strand of it. Instead, I went to the refrigerator and pulled out the pint of half-and-half I’d spotted earlier and set it on the counter. “Cream?” I asked, turning back to look at him. Folding my arms over my chest as if that would protect me from my desires, I leaned against the counter, watching him. In two steps he reached me and picked up the ends of the robe’s belt. “Are you wearing anything under this?” His voice was gruff but teasing.
“None of your business.”
“So you aren’t?”
“I might be,” I said.
“I could have you undressed in under a second.” He fingered the collar of my robe with one hand and traced my lips with the other. “I couldn’t sleep a wink last night thinking about you.”
“Really? I slept fine.” A lie.
“I must not have done a good enough job getting you as worked up as I was then. Not even the cold ride to the house calmed me down.” He untied the bathrobe’s belt, inch by inch, all the while staring into my eyes. “But I happen to like a challenge.”
I held my breath until he leaned in to kiss me, soft at first, pulling at my bottom lip with his, th
en harder. I gasped as his fingers found their way under the robe to the bare skin of my waist. “This isn’t a good idea,” I said against his mouth.
He stopped, leaning back an inch or so to peer into my face. “Why?”
“It’s so complicated. Us. The family.” I paused. “What I know of your reputation.”
Cocking his head to the left, the sides of his mouth curved into an almost smile. “I’m supposed to teach you how to have fun. Wasn’t that the agreement?”
I nodded in the affirmative, feeling vulnerable and fragile, like a woman perched on the side of the cliff so precariously that all it would take was a soft breeze to push me over. A memory of a drive to a swimming hole in my hometown of River Valley came to me. The best hole of all—Six Mile, the locals called it. A spot on the river over forty feet deep and a sandy beach with rocks to jump from. But to get to it you had to take a skinny road with bends and curves for miles up the side of a mountain. As you climbed, if you dared to look down— Blythe did but I couldn’t—you could see the river, snaking through the canyon. One wrong turn and your car could tumble from the road and bounce against the side of the mountain until you landed in the river, nothing but a ball of metal with your crumpled body inside. Ciaran was like the bend in the road that tossed you over or maybe the car coming around the corner until it was too late and both cars were lost to the canyon below.
“Well, sex is fun,” he said. “Especially with me.”
“I am familiar with the concept.”
“I’m sure you’re more than just familiar.”
“It’s been a while, actually.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Wrong or just unlucky?” I touched the side of his face with my fingertips. He’d shaved since last night and his skin was smooth. I caught the scent of his lime shaving cream. A smudge of residual suds made a quarter-moon shape below one ear that he’d apparently missed when wiping his face. Did he wipe with a towel or run water over his face, I wondered? The thought of him in that intimate setting—a towel wrapped around his waist, shaving, made me shudder. It was either that or the way his hand was moving from my waist to my hip and then down to my backside as he pulled me closer.
“We could just agree to enjoy one another. No strings attached?” He leaned over and teased my earlobe with his tongue before moving his mouth down my neck. “It’s not like you’re moving here or anything. Just stay a couple of weeks. Let me show you a good time.”
I turned my gaze to the ceiling, trying to reason through what he was saying, which was no small feat given how my body was reacting. I’d had arrangements like this in the past. Why was I hesitating now, with this particular man? I’d never been as attracted to someone as I was to Ciaran—there was no question of that. I was afraid the family would find out about us, or was it that I was afraid I might fall for him? Or, a combination of both? “Women like me shouldn’t get involved with men like you.” Unless they wanted to get hurt, I thought.
“Men like me?” He slid his other hand under the robe and found my breast. He cupped it gently and then moved his thumb against my nipple. I sucked in my breath and let out a whimper of pleasure. “What’s wrong with a man like me?”
“You don’t stick around for long.”
His hands went still as he looked into my eyes. “But I’m sure fun when I’m here.” He grinned for a second before turning sober. “I would never lie to you or mislead you. I am what I am. We’re both adults with no one in our lives who would get hurt if we spent some time together.”
I moved my arms to wrap around his neck. “What about our families?”
“No one has to know,” he said. “It’s not their business anyway.”
“You make it so I can’t think straight.”
“Good. You think too much.” He kissed me again, quickly this time, and released his hands from under my robe, tying the belt like I was a child about to go out to play. “But I’ll let you run away if you want. Go get dressed. I promised you fun, and I shall deliver.”
“Now?”
“Yes. I’m going to teach you how to snowshoe. You’ll love it. Great exercise, which will hopefully help get my mind off taking you to bed.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
He pointed at the bag on the table. “Blythe sent over some of her snow gear for you to use.”
“You told her you were coming here to ask me?”
“She suggested it. Said it would be fun for you to try something new.”
“What if I fall? I’m not supposed to hit my head.”
He grinned and tossed the bag to me. “You won’t fall. Anyway, I’ll be there to catch you.
“What about boots?” I asked, stalling for time.
“Damn. I forgot about boots.”
“It’s Thanksgiving. Nothing will be open.” I paused. “Is there even a place to buy boots in Peregrine?”
He nodded but looked distracted, running his hands through his hair. “I guess we’ll have to take the truck to my house.”
Just then my cell phone rang. I left him and went into the bedroom. It was Blythe. “Hey. I forgot to send boots over with Ciaran. I have an extra pair—they’ve never been worn.”
Darn. We had the same size feet. I was stuck now. I would have to go out into the elements and try to walk on snow with dangerous-looking contraptions stuck to my feet. Why couldn’t Kevan have had a second home in Hawaii instead of godforsaken Idaho? I threw the phone on the bed, trying to think of an excuse, when I heard Ciaran say my name. He stood in the door frame of the bedroom, watching me.
“That was Blythe. She has boots for me.”
His face lit up. “Excellent.
“Great. Cooking and snowshoeing. The fun never stops with you.”
“Now don’t spoil the mood by being snarky. You’ll have fun, trust me.” In what seemed like a second, he’d grabbed the bag of clothes from the table and emptied the contents on the bed: snow pants, sweater and ski jacket, along with a cute hat with a tassel. At least there was that. There were also a white cotton long-sleeved T-shirt and pants that reminded me of something an old man would wear to bed. I held up the pants. “What in the hell are these?”
“Long underwear. Nice and cozy for under your ski pants.”
“It just gets worse and worse.”
He ignored the last comment. “Once you’re ready we can snowshoe over to my house and have a snack. Then, we can shower and be ready by three. Where we shower and with whom is optional.”
“You’re hopeless.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Say the word and we can entertain ourselves inside.”
I pointed toward the living room. “You may leave my bedroom now. And shut the door, please?”
He shook his head, as if saddened by a great loss. “I promise not to touch if you let me watch you get dressed.”
“You’re a complete perv.”
He laughed. “Can’t blame me for trying. Seriously, grab an extra pair of clothes to wear to dinner. You can dress at my house.”
“I’ll have to do my hair and makeup.”
“That won’t be a problem. I have mirrors.”
“Please don’t say hung on the ceiling.”
Smirking, he raised an eyebrow. “That, my dear, is not my style.”
“I don’t have the type of clothes that pack well in a back pack.”
“Fine. I’ll take you back on the snow mobile in time for you to get ready for dinner. No more excuses. You can try to wear me down with your pessimistic attitude, but I promised you fun and I will not be deterred no matter what a pain in the ass you try to be.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” He left the room, closing the door behind him. Still, I felt self-conscious and took the clothes into the bathroom, dressing in the layer of soft cotton first. I had to admit it did feel lovely on my skin. Wh
en I had everything on but the ski jacket, I went out in my stocking feet to find the living room empty. Assuming he went to get the boots, I poured a cup of coffee and went to the window just in time to see him trudging back from the big house holding a large shoebox. Idaho boots. Hideous. Twenty-four hours in Idaho and already all sense of fashion had disappeared.
Chapter 15
AFTER I DONNED the boots and the ski jacket, Ciaran helped me clip my feet into the snowshoes and handed me a set of poles. He demonstrated how it was similar to walking on regular ground except that you must widen your stance an inch in either direction to make it easier on your hips. “Use the poles for balance and momentum but really it’s not that different from hiking,” he assured me.
He indicated that I should follow him. “Just try to mimic what I do.”
I did as he asked, pleased to see that he hadn’t lied. Snowshoeing was actually quite easy, although it was clearly a good cardio workout, as I was huffing and puffing in a matter of minutes. We kept on, passing by the big house, where my nieces stood in the front room watching from the window. When I waved with a pole, they clapped and jumped up and down like I was a star athlete in a parade. With one last wave of my pole, I continued watching Ciaran’s backside, quite a nice view, in his black ski pants. We walked past the lake. The edges were frozen solid, but in the middle large pieces of ice floated in a haphazard pattern. We headed onto a flat section of property, blanketed in snow, Ciaran’s tracks from earlier hinting to where we were headed. As far as I could see, the tracks continued across the meadow and into a gaggle of firs heavy with snow. The cloud cover had moved in again, and the gray sky possessed a stillness that comes before a snowfall. Close skies before a snowfall always made me feel lonesome, as if time had frozen and I was the only remaining person in the world. I was a yard or so behind Ciaran but kept pace, trying to match his gait but falling short by several inches so that our tracks became longer than if I’d been able to put my shoe in the exact same spot as his. He stopped, turning back to look at me as I approached. “You’re doing well,” he said. “I knew you’d be a natural. I’ll slow up a bit so we can walk side by side?”
Blue Moon (Blue Mountain Book 2) Page 14