Stranded with a Hero (Entangled Bliss)

by Karen Erickson

  Would he look back? Would she?

  She arched into him, reaching deeper, further, unable to get enough. There was no reason to pretend she didn’t want this. If she’d never see him again, she had to store up every kiss, every sigh, every stroke, enough to get her through a lifetime without him.

  Red gripped her hips and lifted her onto his lap. The movement brought her closer to where she wanted to be, but not close enough. His hands splayed across her ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of her aching breasts. She ground herself against him, grateful to feel an answering urgency.

  “You sure about this?” Red’s eyes were liquid gold. His fingers, now caressing the sensitive skin at her waist, trembled.

  “I’m sure.”

  Gently, he slid her thin undershirt off. She shivered as goose bumps rippled across her skin.

  “No fair.” Her voice hitched. She grabbed his shirt, but before she could do more, he hauled it over his head himself, swearing when the sleeve caught.

  “Better?” he asked, pulling her against his body.

  “Much.”

  Much, much better, she thought later, as they held each other, skin to skin, while their blood cooled.

  Best.

  Chapter Nine

  It was probably lack of sleep that had him feeling off balance, Red told himself the next morning as he eased Conrad’s truck onto the main road. Or was it the shock of rejoining the world after a week of isolation?

  It couldn’t be the shock of being intimate with someone after so long.

  The thought disturbed and excited him in equal amounts.

  Carefully he entered the freeway, grateful for the traction of salted-and-sanded asphalt beneath the wheels. And that Frankie hadn’t insisted on driving the rig back alone.

  Grateful too that this meant she’d have to drive him back to the ranch, which in turn meant that she’d have to stay another night.

  “I’ve never seen such empty roads,” said Frankie.

  “Traffic advisory is still in effect,” said Red. “No driving unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Which this is,” she said. She angled her head, sending him a sweet, apologetic smile. “Thank you for coming with me, Red. Hopefully we’ll be able to make good time.”

  The thought sat like a lump of coal in his belly. The faster they returned Conrad Toole’s property, the faster she reclaimed her car, the faster she’d disappear from his life.

  “Yeah,” he said, hearing the hollowness. “But it’ll still be close to midnight when we get back.”

  One more night with her, that’s all he’d have. But after the passion that had exploded between them, one night couldn’t possibly be enough.

  He tried to force his mind to stay on the road, but it didn’t work. All he could think of was the sound of her soft breath against his skin, her hands, gentle yet insistent, determined. Seeing her shake and cry out, then later, sigh contentedly in her sleep, when he settled a freshly warmed blanket over her small frame.

  What was this between them? What would happen now?

  Maybe he was over-thinking it.

  They’d dug their way out of the snow. They’d almost dug their way out of the mess created by her reindeer-rescue project. One more night, he could count on nothing more. What could he do, ask her to stay here so they could start…dating? She had a job, a home, a life.

  He had a job.

  So what, they’d begin a long-distance relationship?

  Imagining broaching the subject with her had his insides twisting. What if she said no, what if she looked at him with pity, what if—God save him—she laughed at him?

  “Thanks, Red,” she said, startling him out of his reverie.

  “For driving?”

  “For everything.” Her voice was husky. “Last night was…amazing.”

  Male pride rushed through him. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “And you don’t have to worry.” Frankie looked out the window. “I don’t have expectations. We’ve both got lives to get back to.”

  “Of course.” Pride fizzled into disappointment. That answered that question. “Good. That’s good.”

  “Have you heard from Zach about the caribou?”

  “He said Carson knows a guy at a wildlife conservation agency. He figures it’ll all be sorted out in a day or two.”

  “Good. I won’t leave until I know they’re safe.”

  He glanced at her, sitting quietly, her hands in her lap. That was Frankie. Always trying to do the right thing for everyone else.

  “Damn right you won’t.”

  She rewarded him with a small smile and the air warmed between them. “I do, however, have expectations for tonight.”

  He gripped the steering wheel. “You do, do you?”

  She ran a finger lightly down his jaw, sending charges all the way through his body.

  “Do you object?”

  Laughing, he knocked away her hand. “Let’s get there and back in one piece and then I’ll show you exactly how much I don’t object.”

  “Yippee!” Frankie started singing. “I slept with Sheriff Red LeClair, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day.”

  “Technically,” he interrupted, “it was Boxing Day.”

  She punched him.

  “His back is freckled and I don’t care, On Christmas Day in the morning.”

  And suddenly Red couldn’t resist joining in.

  “I saw Francesca’s toes today, On Boxing Day, on Boxing Day. I licked them all and made them curl, On Boxing Day in the morning.”

  He stopped.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Frankie.

  “Nothing.”

  “I knew you had a great voice. Keep singing!” She paused, then put a hand on his sleeve. “I’m sorry. It reminds you of Kayla, doesn’t it?”

  And the awkward moment was over, just like that. He’d never been so comfortable so fast with a woman. Miles passed. Minutes turned to hours. They made good time, and when they arrived at the yard where Conrad Toole parked his vehicles, it was blanketed with unmarked snow, dead quiet and empty.

  They parked the rig, dug out her little hatchback and began the trip back. Daylight waned. They discussed their favorite movies (Love, Actually for her, Minority Report for him), whether smokies were better than plain wieners (they were), and how they’d both tweeted on the #suckitboston hashtag during the last NHL playoffs.

  They talked about her parents, his marriage, and what the effect of divorce was on kids, not that either of them knew from experience.

  “Wow, Sheriff,” she said at one point, “we’ve got a lot in common, you know that?”

  “You sound surprised.” It was her turn to drive and he was enjoying a bit of shut-eye while they chatted. He could talk with his eyes closed.

  “It’s just that,” she began. “I mean, I don’t usually find that. With men.”

  “Mmm.” It was so comfortable here, with her. Easy. He opened one eye. “I’m not your average guy, or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  She smiled at him, the slanting light throwing coppery sparks through her hair. “Oh, I figured that out last night.”

  “Mmm.” That was more like it. He closed his eyes again, picturing her.

  “You snore like this.”

  A high-pitched whinnying sound pierced his fantasy.

  “I do not!” He sat up, as much as he could in her tiny tin-can. “I object!”

  “You’re right. You don’t.” She was laughing. “I wanted to see if you were still paying attention.”

  “You’re pretty low maintenance, as women go.”

  “I am, am I?” She sounded amused.

  “Yeah. Like a cactus.”

  “A cactus!” She reached over and punched him.

  Back and forth like that, he mused as he drifted in and out of sleep, for over ten hours.

  He liked this felonious little elf he’d found stranded on the side of the road. She’d followed him home. Maybe he should keep her.

&n
bsp; He jerked awake.

  “What?” she said.

  “Nothing. Did I say anything?”

  “No. Were you thinking about me? Are you embarrassed, Sheriff LeClair? Rudolph the Red-Faced Sheriff,” she sang. “Wants to ride an elf tonight…”

  No matter what they talked about, or how they teased, she didn’t become emotional or distant, making him feel like he’d missed a turn and accidentally dropped her off a cliff.

  “Okay, yeah, I was thinking about you. You make me feel…good. I like that I don’t have to worry about what I say when I’m with you.”

  The words landed on the seat between them, where they bounced around for awhile, waiting for someone to claim them. What was the matter with him? He didn’t blurt stuff out like that.

  “Maybe I should worry about what I say.”

  “No, no, I’m glad you feel that way,” said Frankie immediately. “I was thinking.”

  “Oh.” He swallowed.

  “You know it’s not your fault, right?” Frankie reached over and put a hand on his knee. “Your wife’s happiness or unhappiness was her responsibility, not yours. No one should bear that burden.”

  Red tried not to react to the warmth radiating from her touch. In a few short days, she’d managed to get inside his head, discovering things he kept hidden and even teaching him things about himself. They had something here, surely she felt it too. His heart started pounding. Why didn’t he just ask her?

  “That’s a great theory,” he said instead, adjusting the knob on the heater. “But it’s kind of hard not to take something like that personally.”

  “I guess,” said Frankie. “Women, right? What are you gonna do?”

  He grinned back at her. How did she do that? She disarmed him completely, all one-hundred-ten pounds of her, without him even knowing.

  She left him powerless, at her mercy. And damn it if he wouldn’t feel her absence. He hadn’t imagined their connection, had he? Frankie, who had friends “all over” had learned how to engage without becoming so attached that she’d suffer when they parted.

  “You’re gonna miss me when you’re gone, you know.” Red aimed for a teasing tone, then immediately felt the backlash of regret.

  What’s wrong with you?

  Red LeClair, who hated talking about stuff, kept on initiating just that.

  “I will, I think,” she said calmly, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “What about you, will you miss me?”

  Shoulda seen that coming, moron.

  “I assume you will since you brought it up,” she continued, as they turned down the long drive to Three River Ranch. “So we agree we’re going to miss each other. What do you think that means?”

  She turned off the engine and they sat in the car as silence descended.

  “Maybe,” he said finally, “we don’t need to answer that question right now.”

  They walked into the house hand-in-hand. There would be plenty of time for questions later.

  Tonight, their last night, they would simply be together.

  Chapter Ten

  Not again, thought Frankie, as the roar and thrum of snowmobile engines nudged her into consciousness. She snuggled deeper into Red, trying to pretend the night wasn’t over already.

  No use. The engine noise got louder and louder, until it stopped. She sighed, reaching out from beneath the warm blankets for whatever article of clothing might be handy.

  But this time, instead of a warning knock, she heard a key turning in the lock.

  “Red!” she yelped. “Wake up!”

  “Well, Sheriff LeClair,” said Bliss, walking through the door, her arms laden with bags. “I see you’ve used the time-honored method of keeping warm in a cold snap. You confirmed my earlier intuition, which I appreciate.”

  Frankie dove back under the covers, which put her face smack against Red’s bare chest, rock-hard and furnace-hot. She felt his breathing change. He was waking up, but not yet aware that they’d been caught in flagrante delicto.

  Frankie peeked out, keeping the blanket tugged up tight to her chin. Her nakedness—and Red’s too—might as well have been glowing neon through it.

  “Bliss,” she croaked. “We weren’t…I was just…”

  “Don’t waste your breath, missy.” The housekeeper laughed, a raunchy, suggestive sound at odds with her grandmotherly appearance. “You were, and you won’t get a scolding from me. Life’s too short to say no when love shows up at your door.”

  She plunked a bulk-size package of toilet paper onto the side table, as if for emphasis.

  Frankie nudged a knee into Red’s leg, hard. He should be dealing with this, too.

  He twitched. That was it.

  Coward.

  “However.” Bliss’s voice grew steely.

  Help me, thought Frankie. The woman wasn’t done yet.

  “I do not abide by all the shenanigans nowadays, sex everywhere, young men with pants at their knees, girls with black bras under white tops, so the whole world can see. Ordinary words now mean something dirty. Yesterday I told my niece I was going downtown and she nearly fell off her chair laughing. I don’t even want to know why!”

  This time, Frankie jammed her elbow into Red’s ribs.

  “Oooph!” he said. “Damn, woman.”

  “You deserved that, Sheriff,” snapped Bliss. She shook out her parka and hung it beside the door. “I know you’re listening. You don’t want to hear it and I’d rather not have to ask. You could say it’s not my business, but when it comes to this place, everything’s my business. You used protection, I hope?”

  Kill me now. Frankie closed her eyes.

  She heard Red mutter something affirmative.

  “Good. Babies arrive when they arrive, and I welcome them all. But it can be rough on a new relationship. Give yourself time to be just the two of you first.”

  “Bliss,” said Red, finally. “We weren’t expecting you.”

  “Ha! I kind of figured that out on my own, cowboy! No, no, don’t get up,” continued the housekeeper. “I’m going to restock the fridge and then make you a proper breakfast. Since this is my kitchen and all. I’ll give you a little privacy to get dressed.”

  As soon as Bliss was out of sight, Frankie scrambled for her clothes, pulling them on clumsily beneath the blanket. A less romantic morning-after could not have been planned. It was just as well. No one had to be the first to speak, no assumptions to make, no awkward retractions to laugh away.

  Not that Frankie would retract a single thing she’d said last night.

  “I can’t believe you pretended to be asleep!” She flung a pillow at him.

  He caught it. “Sounded like girl-talk to me.”

  Bliss’s words were just now sinking in. When love shows up at your door? New relationship? BABIES?

  Frankie whirled around, her hands in her hair. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I’ve got to go. Right now. I’m sorry, Red, I should never have…we shouldn’t have…well. Thank you for driving with me. Hopefully you can—”

  “You look good in the morning.” Red half-sat up against the couch, his arms crossed behind his head, a lazy grin on his face. “You could dial back the crazy a touch, though.”

  His voice was scratchy, intimate.

  His beard had been scratchy, too. And intimate.

  “Get dressed!” she hissed, tossing him the jeans he’d left in a ball the night before. “And keep your voice down.”

  She hopped on one foot while she yanked on her socks.

  “Wanna hear something funny?” Bliss called from around the corner. “This very morning, Des warned me not to interrupt the new sheriff while he’s ‘getting busy’ with his little snow bunny. I must be in the wrong line of work, ‘cause I sure don’t get that kind of glow from scrubbing floors.”

  Frankie cringed. “Red! Where are my keys?”

  A knock sounded on the wall. “You decent yet? If not, cover your giblets, I’m coming in.”

  Bliss walked up to Frankie, gripped
her shoulders and pinned her with her gaze. “This house has great acoustics and while my knees complain now and again, my hearing’s just dandy.”

  Frankie felt strength, warm and calm, flow from the woman’s fingers. The lined face in front of her was brimming with compassion.

  “You’re not going anywhere. I’m not finished with you yet.” She broke eye contact long enough to wink at Red, “And I’m guessing I’m not the only one.”

  Frankie’s throat tightened.

  “I’m not your problem,” she said hoarsely.

  “Problem?” Bliss pulled her into a hug. “The only one with problems is you, gal. Now, come help me with breakfast. The rest’ll be here any minute. And you!” She poked a finger in Red’s direction. “Put your clothes on. I’m pretty sure she’s already seen what’s what. No need to keep flogging that horse.”

  A laugh burst out of Frankie.

  “What?” asked Bliss. “What’d I say this time?”

  …

  Zach and Des were only minutes behind Bliss, and following them was a woman who could only be Bliss’s twin.

  Two of them, thought Red. Two.

  “Blythe Henderson.” She stomped through the doorway, shaking out her gray hair that was short and permed exactly like Bliss’s. “I hear you lovebirds have had quite the time! I don’t normally butt in on Blister’s territory, but I want to get the story straight from the horse’s mouth.”

  “Blight’s manners leave something to be desired,” said Bliss as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Sheriff Red LeClair and our guest, Frankie Sylva. Now, quit invading their privacy and get in and help me.”

  They left the room, nattering at each other like squirrels.

  Red sighed. His last morning with Frankie and this is how they had to spend it?

  “You learn to tune it out,” said Des with a smile. “But they do tend to say what everyone else is thinking.”

  “This one,” said Zach, jogging a thumb at her, “is picking up bad habits.”

  Zach and Des moved to the kitchen, following the enticing smells. The second they were gone, Frankie grabbed his arm.