Holding Her Hero

by Amy Lamont

  Uh oh.

  Gone was the soft, warm look he’d had since they finished working together. His eyes darkened to an almost stormy gray and focused on her face with the precision of a laser. Her lips parted slightly and the intensity of his expression made a fine tremor go through her.

  As if he’d been waiting for just that subtle sign, Mitch shifted forward. His hand moved up from his supportive touch on her arm to cup her shoulder. The small shift brought their bodies into closer contact. They stood with only a few inches between them.

  Mandy’s breath came faster. Six thousand and two objections formed and dissolved without ever making it to her lips. When she finally opened her mouth to give voice to one of the many reasons they shouldn’t be doing...well, whatever it was they were doing, Mitch closed the distance and crashed his lips down on hers.

  This was no gentle, slow meeting of the lips. Mitch ravished her mouth from the get-go, slanting his lips over hers, tongue demanding entrance.

  Mandy opened her mouth to him and met his tongue with her own, struck with the same savage need that seemed to be driving him. Her body melted into his as her arms slid around his waist. Mitch’s hands held her shoulders in a grip just shy of painful, clutching her body to his own hard length.

  Heat pooled in Mandy’s belly. Nothing had ever felt as good as Mitch’s arms holding her or his mouth claiming her own. Her fingers dug into the material of the T-shirt stretched across his back, grasping it and holding on for dear life.

  Mitch tore his lips from hers, but didn’t loosen his grip. He kissed his way across her cheek, moving toward her neck. His hands moved over her shoulders to slide down her back, pulling her harder against him. As his hands settled low on her hips, her hands traveled up around his shoulders, her fingertips brushing the softness of the close-cropped hair on the back of his neck.

  She tilted her head back to give him better access to her throat. His lips found the sensitive juncture between neck and shoulder and a soft moan escaped her lips.

  Mitch’s body went rigid at the sound, and with a groan, he dove back up to reclaim her lips. Mandy eagerly lifted onto her toes to meet him, reveling in the hard length of him pressed against her from shoulders to toes. A shiver ran through her as his tongue found hers again, rubbing sensuously.

  So long. It’s been so long. That one barely coherent thought making its way through her drugged senses had the chilling effect of a bucket of ice water. Mandy tore her lips from Mitch’s and stepped back in a rush, almost tripping over a laundry basket in her attempt to put space between them. When he reached out to steady her, she scrambled backward until her back met the cold, slick surface of the washing machine. She reached up to touch her swollen lips.

  She had no business feeling this way with any man. She was only supposed to feel this way with Will. She bit down hard on her lower lip, almost relishing the pain.

  “Mandy, what...?”

  The roughness of Mitch’s voice and his harsh breath made Mandy aware of her own uneven breathing. She gripped the edge of the washing machine, as she tried to get control of her own racing pulse and raging emotions.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said, not able to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze, but when she lifted her eyes, she found he wasn’t looking at her. His hands were resting on his hips and his head dipped low between his shoulders as he stared at his feet. His posture reminded her of a runner trying to regain his breath after a challenging race.

  It took a few minutes for him to gain control of himself and look at her. What she saw forced a gasp from her and caused a hollow emptiness to spread through her chest.

  He’s back. The Mitch that had met her at her grandmother’s front door the day she arrived. The one with the hard eyes and the distant stare.

  “You’re right. This shouldn’t have happened.” With that he turned and left the laundry room.

  Mandy remained where she was, gripping the washer for support. If she let go, would her legs carry her? A slight trembling shook her and tears clogged her throat. Should she go after Mitch and try to explain? They’d shared such a comfortable warmth as they worked side-by-side in the kitchen. Who knew one kiss could ruin it all?

  Not one kiss, Mandy reminded herself. Ending the kiss and jumping away from him like his hair was on fire caused the rift between them, not the kiss. But she couldn’t help it. As soon as she thought about how good it felt to be held in a man’s arms again, she remembered the last time she felt this way.

  Will.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears seeping from underneath her lids. How could she stand in the circle of another man’s arms? How could she get so carried away by the unexpected attraction between them that she’d almost forgotten Will?

  Waves of guilt swept through her, causing her tears to flow more freely. She had nothing to feel guilty about. She let out a small, self-derisive snort. She’d had enough therapy to know it wasn’t healthy to continue being faithful to a man who died three years ago. Her head fell back, tilting her face toward the ceiling.

  Hell, it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about dating again. But when she’d allowed herself to think about it, she’d always pictured a nice, safe man. Definitely not another soldier.

  Or Marine, she corrected herself. Her eyes popped open as her thoughts strayed once again to Mitch. She could hear him moving around the kitchen, metal clinking against metal as he stored his tools. She didn’t think he’d come back here looking for her.

  Should she go apologize? Try to explain?

  Yeah, right. Cause men just loved the “It’s not you, it’s me” speech.

  A little snorting laugh escaped her. She could just picture Mitch’s face when she tried to feed him that line. Plus, her grandmother had told Hal about how Mandy lost her fiancé. Surely she’d filled Mitch in on the story, too. So it wasn’t like he was totally ignorant of why she might have trouble getting close to another man.

  Mandy stood away from the washer. She took a deep breath and made a point of throwing her shoulders back and straightening her spine. Maybe the best way to handle the kiss was to ignore it.

  But she couldn’t ignore Mitch. He’d come here in the middle of the night the minute she’d called for help. Even after she’d gone behind his back and hired a plumber to come do the job he’d said he’d do. She owed him a thank you at least.

  Maybe if she said thank you and went back to friendly chatting, they would find their way back to the easy warmth they’d shared earlier. And she could forget the kiss.

  5

  “Mitch?”

  Look who’s coming out of hiding. He didn’t turn around, just continued to put tools back in their proper place in his toolbox. “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to say…well, thanks. I mean, thank you.”

  Mitch dropped his wrench into the toolbox with a clatter. His head whipped around. He narrowed his eyes on her face. Just what was it she was thanking him for?

  “For coming out in the middle of the night and helping me. With—with the sink.” She waved her hand in the direction of the sink, slightly jerky like a bird with an injured wing.

  “Don’t mention it. I wasn’t going to let Miss Abigail wake up to a lake in her kitchen just because you hired an incompetent plumber.”

  She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

  “For hiring an incompetent plumber?” Mitch shrugged, trying to pretend it hadn’t bothered him when she informed him someone else had come and done the repairs he’d intended to do. “I just hope you were wasting your own money and not Miss Abigail’s.”

  She nodded and looked away. As her head moved, the kitchen light hit her cheek. Were those tearstains? Shit.

  Mitch had no clue what was going through her head when she broke off the kiss in the laundry room, but man, he’d been pissed when he had to rein himself in. He knew he was being a jackass right now. He couldn’t seem to help himself. H
e’d been waiting for what felt like forever to get Mandy in his arms. Having her pull away when he’d been drowning in the feel and taste of her was a slap. But at the evidence of her tears, something inside him loosened a little.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, after the silence had gone on too long. He gestured toward the laundry room. “I didn’t plan on that happening.”

  And it was the truth. He knew Miss Abigail’s granddaughter wasn’t his usual pick up. He’d been prepared to take her out, take things a little slow, see where things went. Instead, he’d been ready to get her naked and up on that washing machine just two minutes ago.

  Mandy turned her big brown eyes on him. Now that she was looking straight at him, he could see those eyes still held the sheen of tears. She looked so soft and innocent, and not more than a little lost. The look she turned on him made him feel like the guy who’d shot Bambi’s mother.

  It also made him want to go over to her and gather her in his arms to comfort her. Bad idea.

  “It’s okay.” Her voice was slightly husky. No doubt a combination of the late hour and the tears she’d shed. “I didn’t plan on it either.”

  Mitch was floored when she turned a soft smile on him. He’d expected her to put all the blame on him, especially after making her cry. Her simple words gave her equal responsibility for what happened between them. This woman continued to surprise him.

  “Do you think it’s possible to…I don’t know, maybe just pretend it never happened?” she asked. She picked up a dishtowel from the kitchen counter and began twisting it, wringing it between her hands.

  Pretend was the operative word. They would have to pretend because there was no way in hell he was actually going to forget that kiss happened. He could still feel her lips beneath his, taste her on his tongue, feel her soft curves beneath his hands. But he’d give this pretending thing a shot. Maybe in the light of day he could go back to the original plan of taking things slow and start by asking her out on a date. How hard could it be to control himself while they got to know each other better?

  “We could try.” He couldn’t help but smile when her hands stilled on the dishtowel.

  “Great. Cause I’d really like it if we could be friends.”

  Friends. Great.

  * * *

  Despite the lack of sleep, Mandy woke feeling like a weight had shifted from her chest. Sometime while she’d been trying to find sleep after Mitch left, something happened. Her mind played over the kiss and her feelings for Mitch, and it all tumbled together with guilt over feeling like she’d betrayed Will.

  But the more she thought of Will, the more she could hear his voice in her head. She swore she heard his laugh and could almost feel him beside her. It was the first time since he’d died that she’d really allowed herself to think about it. To remember all the little things about him.

  And suddenly, just as she was drifting off to sleep, a feeling of peace drifted over her.

  It was almost as if Will had given her his blessing to move on with her life. She wasn’t forgetting him or replacing him, but just going on to the next chapter of her life.

  She even found herself laughing as she regaled her grandmother with the story of what happened in her kitchen the night before.

  “I can’t believe I slept through that,” her grandmother admitted with a laugh.

  “You should be happy you did. It looked like we’d be able to start surfing in here.” Mandy shook her head, sending her hair swaying.

  Her gaze traveled over the kitchen. They’d done a good job last night. You couldn’t tell the floor had looked more like a lake just a few short hours ago.

  “Thank goodness Mitch was able to get here,” Grandma Abigail said.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without him.” Mandy didn’t like the sound of those words. Sounded like she was getting dependent on him. She shook off that thought and went to pour a third cup of coffee.

  Her thoughts drifted to Mitch again as she combated her fatigue with the heavy dose of caffeine and sugar. Was he feeling equally sleepy today? Her stomach churned. It was one thing for her to feel a little sluggish. Her hardest task today was sitting down and planning their next home improvement project. For Mitch, sleepiness could be a heck of a lot more dangerous.

  I won’t think like that. He was a big boy and trained to handle himself in the toughest conditions. A few hours of missed sleep wasn’t going to hurt him. She made a concerted effort to push all thoughts of Mitch out of her head.

  “What should we work on next, Gram? The yard is in much better shape and Mitch seems to have the plumbing under control. What’s next on the agenda?”

  “I would love to be able to move back into my bedroom. Mitch fixed the leak in the roof, but we haven’t had a chance to repair the ceiling yet.”

  “Okay, we can look at that. I think he said it isn’t too bad. Just needs some sanding, spackling, and painting.” Mandy contemplated their to-do list. The ceiling in her grandmother’s room was at the top of it. There were also lots of smaller odds and ends she could take care of without Mitch’s help. She tried not to think of everything that needed to get done all at once because it overwhelmed her. But at the moment she mentally ticked off the things she could do on her own and found the list surprisingly long.

  Mandy started to calculate the amount of time all those tasks would take. When she left New York, she’d taken a leave of absence from the restaurant and the catering business where she worked. She knew the caterer would hold her job indefinitely, but it was the job at the restaurant that paid the bulk of her bills and allowed her to save a little every month. Her boss there told her she could have three weeks, but after that he’d need to replace her.

  There was no way all the repairs could be done in the week and a half she had left. And even if she could accomplish all of them so quickly, what about after that? The house was old. Keeping it up was going to be an ongoing job. What would her grandmother do once Mandy returned to New York?

  Mandy’s stomach rolled at the thought of going back. She’d sort of fallen into the jobs there after she’d graduated from culinary school. Working in Manhattan had never been one of her dreams. And even after living in her shoebox-sized apartment in Brooklyn for almost a year, it didn’t come close to feeling like a home. It was just a place to get some sleep and store her clothes.

  Her chin dropped onto her fist as her thoughts drifted back to New York. She hadn’t really made any close friends there. Sure she had a few acquaintances, people she could go grab a drink with after work or see an occasional movie with. But they all had such hectic and crazy schedules, most of them working more than one job to make ends meet. She hadn’t really had the opportunity to get close to any of them.

  “I smell something burning.” Grandma Abigail’s voice pulled Mandy from her introspection.

  Mandy smiled at her grandmother. “I was just thinking about how Kismet Beach feels more like home in the short time I’ve been here than New York does after living there for almost a year.”

  Abigail nodded. “After all those years of following your grandfather around from base to base, when he died I decided to put down some roots. I spent lots of time exploring different places, but the minute I saw this town, I knew I’d found home.”

  “I guess I work so many hours, it’s hard to even appreciate all the city has to offer.”

  “I have to say, I was surprised you moved there. I don’t remember you ever telling me about a dream to work for other people in New York City.”

  Mandy smiled. “What do you remember me dreaming about?”

  “At your engagement party, you had it all planned out. You told me you were going to finish culinary school while Will was deployed, and when he got out you wanted to find a small town to settle down in and open your own place.”

  Her grandmother’s sharp memory startled her. Of course, all that went out the window when she lost Will. She’d floated through the rest of school and job hunting. There was nev
er a moment where she made the decision to do things differently than planned. She just sort of drifted through life, working hard on putting one foot in front of the other in the wake of Will’s death.

  Mandy sipped her coffee from the chunky white mug, her eyes closing as she inhaled the rich aroma. Her mind traveled back, dusting off dreams from what seemed a lifetime ago. She and Will had taken a trip to France a few years before his death. He’d proposed to her there. For so long the memories had been too painful to revisit. But now, for the first time, she smiled as she remembered the patisserie where they’d spent a rainy afternoon at a cozy table, eating melt-in-your mouth pastries with steaming cups of the best hot chocolate she’d ever had. A seed was planted, and when she and Will started dreaming up their plans for the future, she’d often described in detail the patisserie she wanted to open just like the one where they’d spent that afternoon.

  Her dream had been so closely tied to her memories of Will, she hadn’t wanted to visit it again. But sitting here in her grandmother’s kitchen, she could almost see Will’s smiling face, and hear him encouraging her to follow her dreams.

  * * *

  Mandy waited in front of the big plate-glass window of the empty storefront on Main Street shaking her head. How had she gone from reminiscing about her dreams over her morning coffee to standing in front of a shop waiting for a real estate agent to show up just a few short hours later?

  It had started innocently enough when Mandy stopped in the hardware store to pick up a few things. She’d confided in Hal about her dreams and how much she liked Kismet Beach, and before she knew what was happening, the other woman had tugged her to the empty storefront and whipped out her phone to call the real estate agent listed on the sign in the window.

  Mandy cupped her hand above her eyes and pressed her nose against the window. If she was going to even consider opening a patisserie, the little shop did look like it might suit her purposes. How crazy was she to even consider this?