“Yeah, me too,” I said quietly. “But I’m okay. Really.”
He smiled wryly and covered my right hand with both of his.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
For a few moments, we sat in silence, with me dropping my gaze tactfully while he regained his composure after that momentary slip. The warm touch of his skin on mine was distracting to the extreme, but I didn’t take away my hand, and neither did he.
“I’m sorry you missed that industry party,” Curtis said finally. He sounded genuinely contrite. “I know it was important to you.”
I shrugged. “Me getting a movie deal was a long shot anyway. And my agent was understanding of the situation—especially when I promised I’d make that true-crime book happen after all. Seems a shame to waste the opportunity to tell the story from such a unique perspective—not that I ever want to be in that position again. So, no, I don’t regret not making it to that party.”
“I imagine you’d want to move back to New York anyway.” Curtis’s tone was neutral now that he’d gotten a grip on himself, but I sensed the effort under the put-on nonchalance. “Can’t say I’d blame you, after everything that happened.”
Was I going back? Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. Jenny and Noah had insisted I spend the holidays with them, and I needed to meet with Alexis to discuss the new book idea. I could be on the road tomorrow morning, as soon as the doctors gave me the all clear to check out, and yet, I knew I’d linger.
I could go back to my old life, or at least to some semblance of it until I got my financial affairs in order, so what was stopping me?
“When we last talked in your office and I told you I was going to leave Maplewood, you said it wasn’t your place to say anything,” I began haltingly. “But if you could…if I gave you permission to be as honest as you wanted with me, what would you have said?”
Curtis took a deep breath, and his fingers tightened on mine for a brief moment.
“I’d have said that I don’t want you to go.”
I swallowed and looked away.
“Can I ask you something too?” Curtis asked.
“Yeah.”
“You said that you don’t regret missing the chance to meet with the streaming service exec. What do you regret?”
My lips curved. With his usual acute insight, Curtis picked up exactly on what I’d been holding back from saying. It seemed like I had to say it anyway.
“Back there, when I was sure Atwood was going to shoot me, I regretted never telling you the truth about…”
I swallowed hard against my trepidation.
“Truth about what?” Curtis insisted gently. The look in his eyes, full of tenderness and hope, told me he already knew the answer but still needed to hear it from me.
His quiet tenderness gave me wings as I took a running jump off a cliff.
“About how much I care about you.”
I blushed slightly under his intense gaze—deep and dark and full of mystery like an ocean at dawn. But with the scariest part now behind me, I might as well put all my cards on the table.
“That whole going back to New York thing… A part of it was me being scared of getting my heart broken again. None of my relationships have worked out, and I guess it was my fault.” I sighed. “It’s just…with you, it’d hurt so much more if I were to muck it up.”
“I understand being afraid to get hurt,” Curtis said. “There’s a reason I’ve been single for so long after my divorce. And yet, for my part, I’m willing to risk it. The last thing I want is to hurt you, Declan. I can’t promise it won’t happen, but I’ll do my best to try and make this—us—work.”
“Then let’s try,” I said, my heart rising.
“What do you want me to do?”
He was most likely talking about something else, something practical, like picking up my car or bringing me a change of clothes, but I didn’t care about any of that.
I knew exactly what I wanted.
“Kiss me.”
Our fingers were still entwined above the covers, so there was no mistaking his pulse quickening. Very slowly, very carefully, he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine.
I’d craved this kiss, but I didn’t know just how much. The very scent of him, that understated smell of forest and snow, threatened to overwhelm my senses, and I clung to him desperately, ignoring the twinge of pain in my injured shoulder.
Finally, we broke apart, smiling self-consciously at each other.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” Curtis said, echoing my thoughts.
“Then you shouldn’t stop,” I said, and reached for him again.
*
The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, and the smell of fresh pine wafting off the little Christmas tree in the corner enveloped the room in an almost tangible cloud.
I righted a silver-toned bauble on one of the higher branches and stepped back to admire my handiwork. It wasn’t the most elegant of arrangements, but I’d done what I could with the decorations I found in a dusty cardboard box in the attic. I dimly remembered Dad storing some hand-carved angel figurines in the cellar with the rest of the old furniture, but the added frippery wasn’t worth my going down there. In fact, I couldn’t think of anything short of a genuine emergency that would make me poke around down there ever again.
The wind was picking up, and dark shadows from the shaking branches moved across the yellow glow spilling from the lights I’d installed around the porch and above the windows. There was nothing like a brush with death to help find comfort behind added layers of security, even if they were just a handful of bulbs at the moment. At least Curtis had promised to look into some more efficient security systems for me.
I glanced at my watch. Getting used to looking at my right hand was a little weird at first, since my left arm was still in a sling. He’d promised to come over at 8 p.m., and while he still had a good ten minutes before he was officially late, I was beginning to fret.
“He’s just working late,” I told myself sternly as I carefully took two wine glasses off the kitchen cabinet shelf. “He got caught up with something and will be here any minute.”
One by one, I brought the wine glasses to the table. The extent of my hospitality stretched only so far as to empty the takeout boxes from Coffee and Cake into some nicer-looking serving plates and put a bottle of white wine in the fridge. The tiny pumpkin and onion quiches looked cute and festive, as did the heavily sugar-dusted apple strudel. Of course, as far as substantial dinners went, I would much prefer a home-cooked meal, or at least takeout from someplace less dainty and more fat-and-salt-oriented, like Dutton’s Diner. But I was in no condition to cook anything more elaborate than a cold turkey sandwich, and the diner was closed for the foreseeable future.
Still, the table looked beautiful and (dare I say) romantic. I’d even hung strings of star-shaped fairy lights over the mantel, striving to recapture some of the fairy-tale feel of the decked-out village green on a snowy night. Maybe it wasn’t perfectly right, but it was the right kind of perfect for me.
All I needed now was for my date to drop by so we could enjoy it.
I knew I was rambling in my own mind because I was nervous. It’d been two days since Curtis had visited me in the hospital, and this was our first official date. Considering it was also Christmas Eve, my anxiety wasn’t entirely unwarranted.
To calm myself, I sat on the sofa in front of the fire and picked up the collection of Robert Frost poems I’d left lying on the coffee table. I opened it at the marked page and ran my fingers over the yellowing paper.
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,” I read aloud, carefully enunciating each word.
I did have a lot of promises to keep. But these woods, with all their beauty and their secrets, were mine now, and hopefully, I was here to stay.
A knock on the door startled me from my sentimental reverie. I placed the book back on
the table and got up to answer it.
“Sorry I’m late.” Curtis’s puffer jacket was wet, and he looked tired, but his smile, when he looked at me, was genuine. I smiled back, my fears and worries melting away.
“You’re right on time,” I said, stepping back to let him in.
Curtis shrugged out of his jacket, his eyes sweeping across the cabin interior.
“Wow. I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks. Hopefully no ghosts of Christmas past will be paying me a visit.”
Curtis chuckled, but his expression turned solemn. “Really though. Are you okay staying here?”
“I think so. It’s easier knowing that all mysteries are laid to rest.”
That wasn’t entirely true, of course. I would still wake up at night, straining to catch any suspicious noises with a hammering heart, and I suspected I would for quite some time. If last week’s revelations were anything to go by, Maplewood still had plenty of mysteries buried beneath its cozy exterior.
But it was also true that I was feeling better and more hopeful about my life than I had in a while. There was a sense of purpose to it now, with my excitement about the new book I was already outlining and gathering notes for, and this new joy that flooded my heart every time I looked into Curtis’s eyes. It was enough to make it grow three sizes, all right.
“I have something for you,” Curtis said, taking a small oblong box out of the pocket of his jacket before hanging it on the coatrack.
“I thought we made a deal about no presents,” I said, picking up the faux-leather box decorated with a neat red bow. “I can’t imagine you had time for shopping.”
“Actually, it’s not from me. Janice asked me to give you this,” Curtis said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
I opened the box and couldn’t hold back a laugh at the plastic souvenir ball pen in the shape of Champ the Friendly Monster.
“She said you were going to need it for that book signing she’s organizing for you at Books and Hooks next week,” Curtis said. “Declan Kensington, you’re officially our local celebrity.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was secretly pleased and touched to receive this small token of good will. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t feel like a stranger in this town after all.
“It seems I won’t be getting out of this signing no matter what. At least I can still use my right hand to scribble.”
“I sure won’t miss it,” Curtis said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I need new tackle for my ice fishing.”
I jokingly thumped his shoulder, but he put his hand over my arm and drew me near. I’ve never been the touchy-feely type, but I couldn’t deny it was nice to surrender into his firm embrace, have that gentle power envelop me. For the first time in a long, long while, I felt safe and content.
“Merry Christmas, Declan,” Curtis whispered, his eyes locked with mine.
“And a happy New Year,” I said, and kissed him hello.
Acknowledgements
As always, I’m deeply grateful to the entire NineStar Press team for giving my stories a loving home.
About the Author
A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.
Email
[email protected]
Twitter
@Isabelle_Adler
Website
www.isabelleadler.com
Other NineStar books by this author
Irises in the Show
Frost
The Wolf and the Sparrow
Staying Afloat Series
Adrift
Ashore
Fae-Touched Series
A Touch of Magic
The Castaway Prince Series
The Castaway Prince
The Exile Prince
Coming Soon from Isabelle Adler
Afloat
Staying Afloat, Book Three
“Can’t wait to get the hell out of here,” Matt muttered to himself.
A Federation space map slowly revolved on the large canopy screen, illuminating the darkened bridge with the light of distant stars. A red dot flashed sedately at the very edge of the map, marking their current location. The Elysium system was as remote as an inhabited corner of the galaxy could possibly be.
Unfortunately, as it turned out, “remote” didn’t always mean “out of harm’s way.”
Matt set the empty coffee mug on the edge of the console and leaned back, linking his hands behind his head as he considered the vastness of the galaxy, sprawled before him in all its unassuming majesty. At first glance, it appeared to hold endless possibilities, but as it turned out, they were unfortunately limited by constraints that had nothing to do with Matt’s dreams and preferences. Even the parts of the galaxy ostensibly under Federation control weren’t always safe for humans, and out of those, quite a large number of places weren’t safe for him personally.
“Permission to come on the bridge,” a voice chimed over the speaker. Matt smiled and spun around in his chair to greet Ryce as he walked in.
“So formal. Are you going to salute me next and call me ‘Captain’?”
Ryce grinned back at him and leaned down for a quick kiss before sitting beside him in the copilot seat.
“Now who’s being kinky? I thought adherence to a chain of command wasn’t your thing.”
“It’s not. But it’d still be nice to get some respect around here.”
“Knowing your crew, there’s not much chance of that,” Ryce remarked and cocked his head as he studied the map. “Have you been here all morning?”
“Pretty much. And where were you? I didn’t see you at breakfast.”
“I was playing chess with Val in the rec room.”
“Really? Two geniuses playing chess? Could you be any more cliché?”
“Neither of us is technically a genius,” Ryce observed, his eyes still glued to the screen.
“Close enough from where I stand,” Matt said.
“Val and I have also tested the new power converter for the engine, and, as far as he’s concerned, it’s all systems go.” The digitalized starlight reflected in Ryce’s eyes as he pulled the specs at the bottom of the screen, making Matt’s attention momentarily slip. “We can be out of this system the second you decide where we’re going. Have you?”
Matt sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His auburn locks had grown a bit too long for his taste, but with everything that’d been going on lately—namely, his engineer having been kidnapped and his pilot having been roped into participating in deadly drag races—he hadn’t had a chance to cut them.
“Not really. Since we’ve changed registration twice in one year already, there are only so many sectors in which we could apply for a working permit, and a lot of the others are now a warzone. This whole war business is a real nuisance when you’re on the run.”
“Do you think Griggs is still after us?” Ryce asked. “It has been rather quiet lately.”
“I don’t know, but I’m not planning on hanging around much longer to find out.”
Griggs, the black-market king of the Freeport 73 station, was the man behind their crew’s recent misadventures, and though they’d managed to strike an uneasy truce, Matt wasn’t naive enough to believe the crime lord would swallow the bitter pill of blackmail without some kind of payback. Having to—literally—piece his engineer back together was more than enough incentive for Matt to look for opportunities elsewhere.
“Tony says we’re due a vacation, and for once, I tend to agree with her. We’ve all been through some tough shit in the past few months, and we all deserve a break while we have the cash to afford it. But before we go booking that luxury resort stay on Nova, I’d like to have all
my bases covered.”
Matt shook his head and looked at Ryce.
“What about you? Is there anywhere you’d like to go, even if it’s just for a little while?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch the other man’s hand. “Have you considered getting in touch with your mother?”
“I don’t think it’s time for that yet,” Ryce said, looking away. “I’m grateful for the money she sent me, of course, but it still doesn’t mean she wants to see me.”
There was something evasive about the way he said it, as if he wasn’t completely sure or completely truthful in his answer.
“Okay,” Matt said slowly.
It really wasn’t his place to pry or push Ryce into being more open about this particular subject; God knew, Matt was prickly about discussing his own family with other people. But he couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. It was silly, really, but there he was, unable to hold back a frown because it implied Ryce didn’t trust him enough to share something a little more personal.
But his disappointment was his hang-up, not Ryce’s. So instead of quietly sulking, Matt reached out and squeezed Ryce’s hand. The feel of Ryce’s skin against his was still wondrous to him, despite them spending barely any time apart, his own private miracle. Not only because he still couldn’t quite believe a man like Ryce could love someone as flawed as him, but because after everything they’d been through, they were incredibly fortunate to even be alive to enjoy their happy ever after. This what he should be focusing on, not some imaginary slights he was learning to recognize as self-sabotage.
Ryce smiled and covered Matt’s hand with his own, his cool touch sending sparks of excitement down Matt’s spine. “What are you thinking? You have that funny look on your face.”
“Must be the aftermath of last night’s dinner.”
Ryce scoffed. “You didn’t have to be quite so unequivocal about how bad you thought it was,” he chided, but there was a spark of laughter in his eyes.
“I’m actually glad you suck at cooking. Just goes to show nobody can be perfect at everything. And if you’re not perfect, there’s hope for the rest of us mortals.”
In the Winter Woods Page 19