by Jean Oram
“Yes. And I have a boutique.” Simone turned in her seat, addressing Connor. “Hasn’t it cleared off yet? What kind of weather can helicopters fly in?”
“Afraid to pay up?” Josh joked quietly. He could still feel the burn of her kiss, where her lips had lingered when she’d thanked him only minutes ago. He had a suspicion he’d be enjoying the phantom sensation of her touch for hours, days, weeks.
“Not this,” Connor replied.
“What do you sell in your boutique?” Josh asked, attempting to distract Simone into relaxing.
“I own it, run it, stock it,” she replied simply, not answering his question. Her hands were pressed tight between her thighs, her shoulders hunched forward.
“And it does okay?” Josh was definitely getting the vibe that something was wrong in Simone’s life right now. Was her business in trouble? Was that where the tension was coming from? He knew it couldn’t be easy running a store, given the ebb and flow of tourists that ran through the local area. “I have some stuff I sell on Etsy and eBay.”
He cringed internally. Why did he say that? Was he nuts? She didn’t need to know about his creations. She was the last person who would understand him, and the first to make assumptions. She was the type who would mock his work and fail to understand who he was just because he made delicate hair accessories.
“It does fine,” she said.
“She does art shows, too,” Hailey added as she passed by, looking for something.
“Anything to get foot traffic.” He understood that.
“It’s on the main route through Port Carling. Traffic isn’t an issue in the summer.”
“Do you have much space for inventory?”
“It’s a converted house, so yes.”
Something familiar was trickling through his mind, setting off alarm bells, a tightness forming in his chest.
Wait a second… “Didn’t a boutique in Port Carling just get a deal to expand and distribute their handmade dresses internationally?”
It had to be her. He’d almost reached out to that boutique owner, asking if they could form a partnership of sorts, but he’d chickened out at the last moment. Now he was glad he had. The last thing he needed was someone like Simone laughing at him, feeling sorry for him while being trapped in the same old cottage overnight.
“That was a few months ago,” she said, her tone offhand, her glance flicking to the Summers and their men.
Son of a… Her boutique was obviously doing better than fine.
Josh felt his shoulders fall. Simone was the woman he needed to talk to if he wanted to bump things up to the next level with his hobby, turning it into a legit business. But she was the last woman he wanted to talk to. She was a superwoman, and everything was too fresh, too tender for him to deal with someone who could be so blunt, callous, and to-the-point with her criticism and advice.
“Her business is doing really well,” Melanie said. “Her dresses are always perfect.”
“Delectable,” Tristen agreed, giving Melanie a kiss on the forehead.
“She was in the Financial Times a few weeks ago,” Connor offered, quick to get in on singing her praises.
Instead of looking pleased and proud, Simone seemed almost bothered by the attention and ready to change the subject.
“Congratulations,” Josh said.
She gave him a brief smile. “Thanks.”
“What?” he asked. “You don’t like the success?”
“It’s fine.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was hiding something.
“You want more?” he prompted.
She let out a weary sigh.
“Too much attention then?” What made this woman tick? He almost hoped she found the spotlight too much, as he could identify with that. When he brought his fairy art and hair accessories into the Children’s Burn Unit the kids always made such a fuss. It was a pleasure, a real reward, to see them enjoy his creations, but sometimes it was overwhelming. They were just ribbons, sequins, lace, and other fun bits glued or stitched together. Painstakingly. But they weren’t going to change the world, and the assessing sidelong looks, along with the unwanted questions in the nurses’ eyes, almost didn’t make it worth it sometimes.
“The attention is fine.”
“Yeah?” He reached over, tapping Simone’s arm with his knuckles. “Then chill. Enjoy the ride.” She was at the top of her game. What was there to worry about? It wasn’t as if anyone would be looking at her as though she’d lost her mind for creating dresses.
“Chill?” She blinked at him twice and repeated, “Chill?”
“Yeah.” Why did it feel as though he was fighting a long-term girlfriend and not an acquaintance? “Be happy.”
She gave him a nasty scowl. “Who says I’m not happy?”
“Your face.”
“Excuse me?”
Women. Everything was an insult when they were mad.
“You’re obviously not.” He glanced behind him, expecting some backup. But everyone remained silent, suddenly too involved in their card games, books, and other conversations to lend a hand.
Apparently Simone wasn’t one to be messed with. Which meant he was going in, guns blazing, alone.
Goodbye, nuts. Nice knowing you.
“If you were happy and doing what you’re supposed to be doing with your life you’d be overjoyed, and it would show on your face.”
“And you’re the poster boy for happiness and fulfillment?” She crossed her arms, giving him a look as if to say, “I win.”
“Not in the least.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his iced tea. “But at least I’m willing to admit it.”
“Maybe I’m already doing what I want to do,” she added, a hint of imp twinkling in her eyes.
Secrets. That woman had secrets.
“Then smile.” He leaned forward, knowing he was pressing into her personal space again despite them being in opposite chairs.
She flashed him a lot of teeth.
“Not a snarl, a smile.”
“You don’t deserve a smile.” She turned away in her seat. Point for Josh.
Hailey, swilling a hot toddy, tossed another log on the fire, laughing at Finian, who was making faces at Tristen’s daughter, Dot. The two were in a battle, seeing who could make Tigger laugh the hardest. Someone had to be winning, as the kid was giggling like a demented hyena and about two seconds away from accidentally smashing his phone. Sparks flew onto the hearth and area rug before Hailey closed the screen.
“Good plan. Mix alcohol and fire,” Josh snapped at her, getting up to take care of the live embers. They’d be royally screwed if this place went up in flames tonight.
Hailey stepped back, holding her drink closer to her chest. “It’s not a real hot toddy. I’m pregnant.” She gave him a look and stomped away.
Great. Way to go. Insult the hostess. He’d just bumped up the expiration date on his welcome.
“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered sheepishly.
He readjusted the screen, ensuring sparks couldn’t fly past.
“I’ve got this.” Simone pushed it aside, hip-checking him out of the way to poke at the logs, adjusting them in what he grudgingly admitted was the way he would have if he hadn’t been so worried about the place burning down.
“My hot toddy isn’t real, either,” Melanie said to the group with a shy smile. “I made mine with herbal tea.”
“Why?” Simone asked hesitantly, as though afraid to hear the answer. Standing beside her, Josh could feel the tension radiating off her like heat waves.
“We’re trying to have a baby.”
Simone’s forehead wrinkled and Josh wondered why she didn’t seem more excited for her friend.
Tristen put an arm around his fiancée’s shoulder. “We know we aren’t married yet, but we don’t care. We will be soon enough.” He gave Melanie a look filled with so much love that Josh found himself wishing he could find someone who would accept him exactly the way he was: c
onfused. And not following his dreams because he was a big chicken. Right. That would definitely be quite the woman. A great way to start a strong relationship, too, he’d bet.
He rubbed his face, dismissing his thoughts. A relationship ran the risk of pushing him off track right now, and for once he was finally allowing himself to create without censorship. Getting involved with someone would undoubtedly relocate that new ability to the back burner.
“Good luck. I hope it goes well for you,” he said to the couple, trying to put the screen back in front of the now roaring fire. But Simone stood stock-still, her shoulders rounded down, blocking his way.
“Thank you.” Melanie beamed at him and then began chatting with Hailey and Daphne about babies, while Maya rolled her eyes.
“Simone, can you move, please?” Josh murmured.
“I know, okay?” she whispered back, still blocking his path.
“Know what?” he asked. She was making his head hurt more than the bump was.
“I’m okay with being a control freak.” The strain in her expression was new and his instinct to take care of her kicked in, overriding his innate need for self-preservation. “I know it’s not easy for men like you to deal with, but it’s the way I am. It’s who I am.”
“I don’t care if you’re a control freak, but sometimes you’re a danger to yourself. Do you get that?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re so determined to get out of here, you think you can take on this whiteout. It would eat up anyone—even me.” He gestured to the windows, which now had snow packed between them and the shutters. Outside the wind howled, sending drafts through the large living room. “You need someone to take care of you or you’ll end up making use of those in the dead of the night.” He pointed to the old-fashioned snowshoes hanging above the fireplace.
She blinked furiously, her face a scary shade of red. “I do not need taking care of. And definitely not by the likes of you.”
Her voice had a dangerous edge to it, and Maya quietly slipped from the room, taking Connor with her.
The red, blinking light in his mind warned Josh to back off.
“Move.” He needed to put the screen back in place so more flying sparks didn’t ignite the place.
Simone’s delicate hands had wrapped into tight fists, ready to lash out. Fighting stance. Ready to protect herself. He echoed her posture, loving the way she narrowed her eyes in challenge.
He did enjoy a tough woman. Too bad they just about killed him every time.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I haven’t had so many fights with one person in such a short period of time since I was sixteen.” A flash of anger seared him as he recalled battling it out with Austin Smith over Josh’s father’s metamorphosis into womanhood.
“Well, welcome to talking to a real person, buster. One who won’t allow you and your wishes to rein her in.”
“Who said anything about that?” More like try to rein in the crazy insecurities.
Simone pushed up her sleeves and leaned forward, ignoring her friend. “I doubt you’ve even paused to consider what we’re up against here. You think it’ll all just get taken care of by magic, but so you know, we’re stuck in a drafty cottage with not enough food, probably not enough gas in the generator to keep the electricity on all night for the bedroom heat, nor do we have enough wood stockpiled on the back porch. We have no cell or Internet connection and nobody gives a crap because they’re under the haze of new love! These are problems.” She smacked her right hand into her left palm. “Problems I can solve. So don’t get in my face about thinking you’re somehow stronger than me and that you have to take care of me. I can do just fine on my own.”
The logs in the fireplace shifted and crashed, sending up sparks. Simone flinched and let out a squeak of pain. Without thinking, Josh yanked the straw out of two of Tigger’s juice boxes lining the mantel and squeezed, sending dual streams of apple juice onto the live spark burning through Simone’s tight jeans. Simone patted the burn and he wrenched her hand away, then tossed a nearby blanket over the spot, smothering it in case the liquid had missed its mark.
The logs snapped and crackled behind him, throwing off another shower of glowing sparks.
“Someone put the screen in place!” He flung it in the general direction of the fireplace as Simone squealed again, dancing away from the hearth. Before he had a chance to process what he was doing, Josh had the woman bundled tightly in his arms and was standing on the veranda in the midst of the stinging blizzard, applying snow to the burn holes in her pants.
She struggled to escape his grip, but he held fast, pressing large handfuls of snow against her thigh.
“It’s cold!” One of her feet had found purchase on the veranda, but he held the other leg against him, still applying snow. She curled into him for balance, arms around his neck, a warm spot against the frigid wind swirling around them.
“The sooner we get cold on your burns, the better.”
He really needed to get back into structural firefighting and away from wildland fires. Rabbits, deer, and squirrels didn’t regard him the way Simone was right now. Such dark, trusting eyes, it made a part of him grow.
Something about holding Simone in his arms felt right. Despite himself, he took her mouth in a kiss.
5
Okay, this was nice.
JC had completely overreacted to the sparks that had burned through her clothing. Being the he-man he was, he’d jumped into action, carrying her away to save her from disaster.
And now he was kissing her with lips that were surprisingly soft and gentle, not pushy or demanding. All Simone’s insecurities and fears washed away. It was a real kiss—not like earlier. This was a kiss between lovers; he was giving and taking, and her body thrummed with a need for more.
She liked it in all the wrong ways, and she reminded herself that she didn’t need someone to take care of her. She didn’t need a big burly alpha to rescue her from a little spark singeing her skin. She hated it when men swooped in, overreacted and assumed she couldn’t handle things.
Didn’t she? Didn’t she hate that? Yes, she was pretty sure she did. She wasn’t supposed to like anything JC did.
Not even one teensy tiny bit.
Right.
Except he was a really good kisser. Olympic athlete kisser. And he was warm, strong. Solid. Holding her safely against him, her leg propped at his waist as he pressed a handful of snow to her thigh. He was shelter in the raging blizzard that swirled around them, lifting her hair and chilling her with its frigid breath.
This kiss was even better than the stupid fight-kisses he’d given her in front of everyone, trying to get her to stand down. Little did he know that she was totally onto him.
He nibbled her bottom lip and she barely held back a moan of contentment. It had been so long since she’d kissed someone so slowly and deeply, and even though her fingers were starting to hurt from the cold she didn’t want JC to stop. Ever.
Which meant he was a very dangerous man.
She liked danger, didn’t she?
She was pretty sure she did. She must, because only a fool wouldn’t enjoy this.
“I’m sorry,” JC said, finally breaking away.
“For what?” she whispered, trying to prevent herself from rubbing her cheek against his strong chest. She was certain it would feel divine. Maybe she could sink against him for a while and allow someone else to stand guard in her life so she could rest. Just for a little bit.
“For, uh, saving you. Not that you need to be saved,” he added quickly.
She practically purred against him. He was a fast learner, avoiding her personal land mines with a deftness that could be fun. In bed.
Her leg was still in his grip, wrapped around him as though they had stopped dancing midtango.
“Sometimes a woman needs to be saved,” she murmured, giving up her internal battle and allowing her cheek to rest against his warmth.
Definitely time to get out of his a
rms. The hormones were turning her into a swooning fool.
Simone did not do swooning. She did not do fool.
She did strong, reliable, and independent.
Their exhaled breath barely had time to form moist clouds before the vicious wind whipped it away. Yet they stared at each other for a moment, their earlier bickering forgotten. There was a kindness, a gentleness in JC’s eyes, and a protective vibe that came off him, leaving her feeling safe as well as quiet inside. Relaxed.
Different.
He wasn’t really a big macho man, was he? That was just an outer coating, like a garment he donned to face the world. In fact, he was…
Simone frowned in thought. What was he?
Well, whatever he was, he was striking a lot of chords that had so far not been strummed by any of the men she’d dated.
Which meant he wasn’t who she’d thought he was. And yet he was still rescuing her.
What did that mean?
“Are you okay?” His voice had taken on its earlier huskiness, and her body suddenly took notice of the ways he was male, the freezing wind forgotten.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “Is your head okay?”
“I’ll survive.” He removed the handful of snow he’d been pressing to her leg. Her body heat had melted some and the area felt icy, exposed to the wind, sending shivers ripping through her body.
“You’re always fine, aren’t you?” he murmured, setting her gently on her feet.
“Always.”
He kept an arm around her ribs as though needing to keep her close. Her arms remained around his neck, preventing him from breaking the half embrace. She liked this side of JC and wanted to discover more of it, fearing that if she let go she’d lose this exclusive glimpse.
She shivered again as the bitter wind whipped between their bodies, stealing the heat they had built up together. She snuggled into him instead of heading back inside as a rational woman would.