“You don’t have a key to my house do you?” I asked, remembering that he had one to the bakery.
“Afraid not,” he said, the wind whipping his words away.
“Can you break in?” I asked. “You are a cop. You should know how criminals do things.”
“Wait a minute,” Tate said and disappeared around the side of the house.
I stood there shivering in the cold wind and wondering if I would ever be warm again when there was a click sound and the front door opened.
Tate pulled me inside and said, “Sorry, I had to break one of the panes of glass in your back door. I’ll get it fixed.”
I didn’t care. We were safely inside and surrounded by blessed warmth.
Tate disappeared into the kitchen and came back. “I put a piece of cardboard over it till morning.” he explained.
I nodded, still huddled inside my coat not wanting to move.
He pulled out his cell, hit speed dial and put it on speaker phone. I heard the dispatcher answer.
“Tate here,” he told her.
“Sheriff, where are you. We’ve been worried that you haven’t checked in?” she asked.
“Had a little accident,” he explained and then he told her what had happened and where the Jeep was stuck. “I’ll need a tow truck but I don’t know if they can get out here until the roads are plowed again.
“Tow trucks are tied up anyway. There was another wreck out on 240,” she said.
“Call Hollister and ask him to come on duty early. There’s no way I’ll get back in there any time soon.”
“He’s already on duty taking care of the accident,” she informed him. “We called him when we couldn’t get you. Want him to come and get you?”
Tate hesitated and I shook my head. We didn’t need two police officers stranded out here. What if there was another house fire?
“Not until those roads are cleared up a bit. I’m in where it’s warm,” he explained.
“You’re near Old Man Sweet’s property,” the dispatcher said. “That’s why we couldn’t get you. Doesn’t Lexi live there now?”
“Yes,” Tate answered. “And she’s home safely as well.”
“At least you’re in good company,” she said with a little chuckle. “I heard about today.”
“Yeah, it was something else,” Tate answered.
While listening to the conversation, I had finally started warming up. I turned on a lamp loving the soft glow that filled the room. I was unbuttoning my coat when Tate ended his call.
“I know we’ve had plenty of coffee today but I, for one, could use something to warm up.”
“Me, too,” he said with a brief smile.
He followed me into the kitchen and pulled off his jacket while I made coffee. We stood there in awkward silence waiting for it to finish. I was thinking about how he had kissed me right there that very morning and how that had ended.
“Tate, I’m sorry…”
“How did you…”
We both started talking at the same time and then stopped, started again and laughed.
“Sorry,” I said. “You go first.”
“No, ladies first,” he said, leaning against the counter.
God, he was beautiful, even with dark stubble covering his chin, and those gray eyes were mesmerizing. We had been through a lot in the past two days and I knew I had at least made a good friend.
“I was going to apologize for spoiling your evening,” I finally said.
He looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
He was going to make me say it.
“I’m sure you had plans to meet Isabella…” I began.
Tate cut me off. “Isabella and I came to an understanding today. She is on her way back to New York or somewhere. She’s no longer a part of my life.”
So, we had both made big strides toward our futures today. I had effectively told Sean the same thing.
“It’s you I want, Lexi,” Tate was saying.
“What?”
“I want you,” he whispered.
“Tate,” I breathed as his arms surrounded me.
This time when he kissed me it was almost as if he was staking a claim, making me his and his hands were following suit. And this time, he was the one unbuttoning my sweater, his hot lips and exquisite tongue setting little fires all over my exposed flesh.
I ran my fingers through his hair and whispered his name again. My knees were weak and shaking and it was all I could do to stand up.
As if he knew this, Tate led me back toward my living room. He pulled me onto his lap on the sofa and kissed me while, together, we removed my sweater and bra. Then he eased me back into the sofa cushions, hand roaming while he moved his mouth from one nipple to the other making me gasp with pleasure.
The hand between my legs was creating even more heat and I pressed my body against it, giving him permission to continue with anything he wanted. I kicked my boots off and lifted myself up off of the cushions as he peeled my jeans and panties down my legs and tossed them aside.
There I was, completely naked and, somehow, when he gazed down at me, I knew this was right where I belonged.
I whispered his name again as he lowered his head to my breasts again. His fingers went back to work between my legs, teasing me until I rocked my hips rhythmically. And then, with a little chuckle, he licked his way down my tummy and his tongue took over where his fingers had been just moments before.
“Tate, please,” I cried out, spreading my legs eagerly for him. “Oh, God, Tate.”
My whole body was aching for release when he worked two fingers inside of me. Then he wrapped his lips around my most sensitive spot and stroked it with his tongue. Holding onto his bobbing head with both hands, I shuddered through an orgasm that felt as if it had been building since our kisses that morning.
While he undressed, he kissed me, allowing me to taste myself. That excited me further and I reached for him as he settled on his knees between my legs. He was throbbing steadily and I quivered just knowing that he would soon be inside of me.
“You’re mine, Lexi,” he breathed as I guided him to my liquid center. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I told him as he entered me steadily and slowly filling me completely. “I’m yours, Tate.”
We began moving rhythmically as if we’d made love a hundred times before. Our bodies fit together perfectly. He knew exactly when to go deep and when to tease me. He knew exactly when to go fast or slow down. And all I could do was hang onto him with my arms and legs and ride out the waves of pleasure that crashed over me, each one more intense than the one before.
“I love you, Lexi,” he said, looking into my soul with those stormy gray eyes.
“And I love you, Tate,” I said, the words coming naturally from my lips.
And then with a guttural sound of release, he thrust himself to the hilt and exploded deep inside of me.
We spent the next few hours showing each other just how much love we could share. And while we rested we talked softly, making plans for the future.
Epilogue
Christmas Eve, one year later:
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Ida Mae quizzed.
“I think so,” I told her, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach and then smiling nervously at my employees. “Not sure how everyone is going to react to the bakery being closed on Christmas day.”
“Well, I’ve taken care of the McDonalds,” Lacey told me. “They understand completely. And unless there’s a house fire like there was last year, there shouldn’t be a big crowd trying to knock the doors down.”
“Besides, half the county will be at the wedding,” Lucas told me.
I still could not believe it. On Christmas day, in less than twenty-four hours I was going to become Mrs. Tate Chandler in one of the biggest, most anticipated weddings in the county.
“And you guys are going to be there for sure,” I said to them.
“All of us will be there,” Ida Mae
assured me.
My staff had grown during the past year just like our business. As it turned out Frankie’s dad was the IT manager at the plant where he was laid off. He helped me get the on-line bakery up and running and then he and his wife took over, running it like a well-oiled machine. Ida Mae and Lacey were struggling to keep up so I hired them some help and Lucas was training a new delivery driver. He was planning to finally retire and spend his remaining years with those grandchildren he loved so much.
The jingle bells tinkled and we all looked up to see Tate standing in the doorway.
“You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding,” Lacey scolded.
Tate ignored her, strode across the room and took me in his arms. He kissed me until I melted against him. “Hope you don’t mind,” he whispered. “I invited the McDonalds to the wedding.”
I smiled and traced around his wet lips with my fingertips. It thrilled me to know that I was going to be kissing those lips for the rest of my life. “That’s a great idea.”
“We can celebrate our anniversaries together every year,” he added. “On Christmas day.”
Looking up, I saw Lacey and Ida Mae smiling proudly at us. The tiny life growing inside of me fluttered for the second time that day and I whispered the news to Tate.
He grinned and placed his hand over our baby. “This is gonna one sweet Christmas.”
Snowswept
by
Carolina Moon
Copyright © 2012 ButtonFly Books
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief (200 words or less) quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Snowswept
Crista stared out at the heavily falling snow, which was beautiful, and then down at the dead cellphone in her hand, which was not. Crap. And from the way the sky looked, she didn't think she'd be going anywhere anytime soon. Still, how long could it last?
Well, at least until spring. The Montana Mountains were known for their long, long winters.
She turned away from the window and sank down onto the old sofa that Jack had found somewhere. It was ugly and uncomfortable, but they were only here for a few weeks a year, and usually they were outside, kayaking the lake on their small boat or shopping in the little town that was about twelve miles away.
Getting rid of the sofa was one of the things on her to-do list for this trip. She wanted to clear away everything that reminded her of him. His cheesy music went to the dumpster in a box, his sweatshirt followed, and she had given all of those ridiculous motorcycle parts to her friend Emily. When she had met him, she had thought that he was mysterious and edgy, but really he was just the sloppiest, most irresponsible goofball in Texas and it had taken her three years and one in-your-face affair to realize that.
She had spent all that time feeding his band members, putting up with his stupid, never-finished motorcycle project, and taking care of him, all because of some stupid romantic notion about bad boys. She'd told herself over and over that he would come around, that he would either take a serious shot with his music or find a real job. She'd been wrong.
Even though they'd broken up almost eight months ago, she just hadn't had a chance to come here and finish wiping him from her life. The trip itself was a spur of the moment sort of thing, really. Their time here was the last bit of history they had together before she caught him with that skinny, stupid twit of a girl. She wanted it all cleared away, and the urgency that had pushed her to go as soon as possible had drowned out the voice of reason.
Crista could still hear her mother's voice on the phone at home.
"You can't go up there. The first big storm of the season is predicted to hit this weekend."
"Mom, it's beautiful out. The radar says that the storm is lagging by a week, and I'll be long gone by then, trust me."
"The weather is different there, hon. Really different."
But, standing in her sunny Houston apartment, looking out the window with her hand on the curve of her hip, Crista just couldn't imagine a pile of snow. "Besides, it isn't the ice age. If it snows, they'll clear the roads and I'll come home."
Boy, that had been the wrong kind of thinking. Evidently, since this wasn't a year-round facility, they didn't actually clear the roads until they got around to it. They didn't really expect anyone to be here.
The first thing she did when she woke up to find a foot of snow on the ground was call the little general store in town. Maddie, the owner, was a sweet but absentminded soul who knew everything about the town, but not where she put her glasses or when the cat had been fed last. Crista was the same way, sometimes, and she thought the old woman was charming. On the phone, Maddie calmed her down, but delivered the bad news with a 'tsk, tsk" that made Crista roll her eyes.
"I'll call them for you, but I can't promise that they'll jump right on your request. Those roads don't get plowed as often as the local roads."
"Local roads?" She put one hand over her eyes, trying to decipher Maddie's words.
"That's what we call the roads the locals use. You're on a tourist road."
Of course. That made perfect sense. "Well, will you give them a call?"
"It would help if you were having an emergency. Are you?"
Crista looked out her window, and caught a glimpse of a lone figure moving around. It was him. The man who lived here full time but didn't speak to anyone, according to Maddie. No one knew where he had come from except for the owner, and he evidently wasn't talking. After a moment, he was gone again.
"Are you?" Maddie sounded impatient.
"Am I what?" Crista was confused. "A tourist?"
"No. Are you having an emergency?"
"Well, other than the fact that I have very little firewood left and only brought munchies to eat...no. I suppose not."
"OK," Maddie chirped. "I'll tell them you're a freezing, starving mess who can't walk out her front door and pick up a few sticks of wood to keep her fire going."
Crista groaned. "Maddie, how long do these storms last, anyway?"
But right about then, her phone had gone dead. Stupidly, she had forgotten her charger. She was only supposed to be here for two days, anyway. How was she supposed to know a snowstorm would hit?
She could already hear her mother saying, "I told you so."
It was only September, though.
It didn't matter. Here she was, trapped. It had been snowing since last night, and by now she could barely even see her little car underneath all that snow. She wasn't going anywhere.
Hopefully, Maddie called the department of highways, or whoever was in charge of plowing, and she would be going home soon. Pushing herself up from the sofa, she walked to the other end of the main room to the kitchen area.
It was a nice cabin, one of the larger ones on the lake. One big room made up the entire living area, with one bedroom, a loft with bunks, and a tiny bathroom built onto the back. At least she had spectacular views of the quickly freezing lake and the forest beyond.
She would look at it while she starved, because all she found in the kitchen cupboards were the snack foods she had brought and a couple of cans of chili. Well, she could make do, or do without. Besides, losing a few pounds definitely wouldn't kill her.
It would be her lake diet. If it worked, she could write a book about it and become a bazillionaire. Or not.
Great. Now she was hungry. "It's just a trick of the mind, Crista," she muttered, swiping her fingers through her hair. She decided to skip breakfast and searched around for something with which to distract herself.
She spotted the hatchet on the far wall. Jack had liked to use
it when he found firewood for their bonfires, and more than once on their last trip up here, she had thought about burying it in his skull.
She hadn't though, and now it hung there as innocently as a sharp object possibly could. She could use it to gather some branches. Also, it could be the exercise portion of her new lake diet. She grinned.
Grabbing the thing - it was heavier than it looked and she almost dropped it on her foot - she put on all of the clothes she'd brought with her. Luckily, she hadn't been in the mood for cutesy outfits, simply packing jeans and a couple of hoodies and T-shirts. Also luckily, she'd brought her beanie. She didn't think she would need it, but she occasionally wore it because it was cute. Now it might save her ears from frostbite.
It was cute, though. She liked the way it curled her dark hair up along the edges. She might be pudgy, but she was sassy.
Outside, she stopped and squinted into the blinding snow, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness of her winter wonderprison. The flakes actually stung when they hit her hands and face, and she could barely see five feet in front of her. The storm was somehow getting worse. She shivered in her hoodies.
The perimeter of the property was wooded, and she decided to start with one of the smaller trees that was part of the undergrowth. Eyeing it, she decided that it looked doable. A couple of hard swipes would cut it off at the base, and then she could chop it into firewood.
Her hands were already freezing but she gripped the smooth handle as hard as she could and sent her first swing. It bounced off the tree and almost hit her in the head. She cursed.
Next she tried using both hands. It was a lot more awkward, but this time the hatchet head sank into the meat of the tree.
And stuck. This wasn't nearly as easy as it looked in the movies. She gave it a hard yank, and then another. It gave a little. She tried again.
She was breathing heavily now, and getting angry. Putting one foot against the trunk of the tree, she used both hands to pull as hard as she could. Finally, the hatchet slid out of the sliced wood. Ha! She kicked the tree, hoping it would just fall over, but then moved around the trunk a little to try a different spot. If she could sort of perforate it all the way around, it might fall over more easily. Or not. What did she know about cutting down trees?
Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set Page 38