Never Too Hot: A Novel

by Bella Andre

  They were all the things he’d wanted to tell Isabel. But it had already been too late by then. Because Connor’s mother had come to him with the news that she was pregnant.

  “Do you seriously expect me to take advice from you about relationships?”

  And this time when his son walked away, Andrew had to let him go. Because Connor was right.

  He didn’t know the first thing about love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE DINER was slammed through breakfast and lunch, but after the last customer left, Isabel said, “Looks like it’s time for our regularly scheduled afternoon chat, isn’t it?”

  Without waiting for Ginger’s response, Isabel put her hand on the small of her friend’s back and pushed her out the door.

  “Let’s take it down to the lake this time. Get a little change of scenery.”

  Families were playing along the shore. Babies splashing. Mothers tickling tummies. Fathers encouraging sons to swim all the way to the buoy. Brothers and sisters goofing around on the floating docks out in the water, hooting with laughter as they shoved each other off.

  “That’s what I want,” Ginger said wistfully.

  Isabel lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “It’s not always this perfect, you know. Later tonight the kids will be bickering in the backseat, while the husband and wife bite each other’s heads off over something stupid.”

  “I’m not asking for perfect,” Ginger said. “Just for the chance to have a few moments like these.”

  “What about Connor? Is there some reason he can’t give all that to you?”

  Ginger half laughed then. “I come in here looking like this,” she gestured to her still puffy eyes, her blotchy skin, “and you actually ask me that. As if there’s some way I’ll go home today and find Connor waiting for me with roses.”

  “Roses aren’t your style. If he knows you at all, he’ll be waiting with a fistful of wildflowers.”

  “Trust me, there aren’t going to be any flowers.”

  “Tell me something, when you first got involved with Connor, what did you think was going to happen? Because correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t exactly get the sense that he was riding in on his white steed like Prince Charming. More like he was the villain coming to pillage Poplar Cove.”

  Ginger flashed back to the first night. To his nightmare.

  “You’re right,” she said slowly. “I knew, right from the beginning, who he was.”

  Who he couldn’t possibly be.

  “And you chose to spend time with him anyway. To sleep with him.”

  Yes. It had been her choice. The same one she’d made again and again, the choice to be with Connor.

  He’d never lied to her. Never made her promises he hadn’t kept. From that first night, all the way through, he’d been brutally honest.

  “We shouldn’t do this. I don’t have anything to give to you, Ginger. Nothing at all.”

  She’d told herself that as long as she walked into Connor’s arms, eyes wide open, it wouldn’t hurt. She’d let herself fall in love with him knowing he couldn’t love her back.

  But then, last night, when she’d offered herself to him completely, nearly bled with love for him, something had shifted around inside her heart. Because even after she’d told him over and over that she wanted him just the way he was, he’d still stayed away.

  Isabel studied her in silence. “Look, I know you’ve got really strong feelings for him. Maybe you even love him. But honey, you’re worth so much more than you know. I thought you realized that by now, that moving to Blue Mountain Lake and starting your life over showed you just how fantastic you are. Any guy you’re with damn well should consider himself the luckiest person in the world.”

  Ginger pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms around her legs. “After I left Jeremy, I promised myself the next time would be different. That I’d wait patiently until the right guy came. I thought for sure I’d know the real thing when I saw it.”

  And then Connor had walked in through her door and she’d been lost.

  “We all think that,” Isabel said with a rueful smile.

  “And even though I know better,” Ginger found herself saying aloud, “a part of me keeps hoping Connor will turn into that guy. If I just give him enough time. If I just love him enough.”

  Isabel’s look of concern intensified into worry. “No. No. And no. Listen to me, you cannot change him. He’s the only one who can do that.”

  And that was when Ginger saw the real problem, as clear to her as the blue sky, the sparkling ripples on the water, the happy sounds all around her.

  Just as she’d told him again and again, she wasn’t hurting from the way she and Connor had come together the previous night. He hadn’t been nearly as rough as he’d thought and she really was tougher than she looked. The problem wasn’t even that he’d hurt her feelings by choosing to stay downstairs on the couch last night rather than open himself up to her.

  No, she was hurting for another reason entirely. And it had just become so painfully obvious that she wondered how she could have gone on this long without seeing it.

  The real problem wasn’t the way Connor had treated her. It was the way she’d been treating herself.

  She’d ached so badly for him, had wanted so badly to help heal his wounds, that she hadn’t spared a second thought for herself. She’d put Connor first, just like she’d always put her ex-husband first, her parents, her causes.

  Only this time it was worse. Because she’d secretly believed that Connor would see all she was doing for him and reward her with his love. Love she wanted more than anything in the world.

  “Have I changed at all, Isabel?” she asked now. “Since you first met me?”

  “So much. I’ve been so proud of you. Especially since I know firsthand how hard it can be to start over after a divorce. You’ve done a great job of moving on, Ginger.”

  “If that’s true then why am I falling into all the same traps? Why am I working so hard to make everyone else happy?”

  Why had she told herself she could feed off scraps? That a little affection was better than none at all?

  Isabel’s arm came around her. “Oh honey, that’s just human nature. You can’t beat yourself up for it. All you can do is hope that maybe it’ll be easier next time.”

  “Is it?” Ginger asked her friend. “Easier next time?”

  Isabel snorted. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear the answer.”

  “I guess I already know.”

  The images were still with Ginger: Andrew looking broken as he’d left Isabel’s house, Isabel more pale and shaken than Ginger had ever thought to find her strong friend.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Isabel said, “I’ve been giving myself the same advice since yesterday when Andrew blindsided me at my house. I’m working like hell right now not to beat myself up for still having all these stupid feelings for a guy I haven’t seen in thirty years. I was so sure it would be different this time. That I could just put up a wall he couldn’t cross. That it wouldn’t hurt so bad just to be near him.”

  “I’m sorry that it does,” Ginger told her friend, reaching out to hug Isabel back.

  “Me too. Especially since I just agreed to cater his son’s wedding. The very son he got that girl pregnant with the night he cheated on me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Isabel was standing in the paint aisle of the hardware store staring at a dozen different greens that all looked the same when Connor came fast around the corner. For a moment she was stunned by his resemblance to his father, got such a clear picture of what Andrew must have looked like twenty years ago it took her breath away.

  Connor was clearly preoccupied, barely looking at her as he said, “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

  He looked tired and beaten down. Pretty much the way Ginger had been all through breakfast and lunch.

  She told herself to keep her n
ose out of their business, but damn it, she cared too much about Ginger to stay quiet. Ginger wasn’t just a friend, she was almost like a daughter.

  “Connor.”

  He finally realized who she was. “Isabel.”

  It wasn’t until then that she thought to wonder if he knew about her and Andrew. But judging by how displeased he looked at seeing her, she guessed he did. She got it that no kid wanted to think of his father having feelings for anyone other than his mother, no matter how old they were.

  “How’s work going on Poplar Cove?”

  “All right,” he said. “You know how these old camps are.”

  She nodded, picked up a paint sample, working to find a tactful way of telling him what he needed to hear.

  “Ginger is really important to me.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “I know she is.”

  “Coming here after a bad divorce. Starting over. I know how hard that can be. The lake has been good to her. This town. These people. Everyone loves her.”

  She paused, let him nod, made sure he got what she was saying.

  “Ginger is a wonderful person, Connor. She deserves so much more than she asks for.”

  He didn’t move, barely blinked, but the flash of torment in his eyes almost made her regret saying these things to him. Because in a heartbeat, Isabel had seen just how much he cared for Ginger.

  And she knew that if he did end up hurting her friend, it wouldn’t be because he didn’t have a heart.

  It wouldn’t be because he didn’t care about Ginger.

  He did.

  But Isabel knew too well that sometimes even loving someone wasn’t enough.

  The phone was ringing when Connor walked into the cabin and he nearly pulled it off the wall when he answered it.

  His brother’s voice came across the landline. “Had to check in, see how things are going with Dad.”

  “You couldn’t stop him from coming?”

  “There was no stopping him. He was a man on a mission.”

  It was the first time they’d talked since Sam’s message from the Forest Service and Connor knew what was coming next.

  “So, how’s it going out there?”

  “The cabin is coming together.”

  “Not the cabin. You. How are you doing?”

  He couldn’t lie to his brother.

  “Bad.”

  Sam’s response was just as short and to the point. “Shit.”

  “I’m fucking everything up.”

  “No one gives a damn about the cabin. We’ll have the wedding somewhere else.”

  “Not Poplar Cove. Ginger.”

  “The renter? Are you getting involved with her?”

  Connor had to know. “What made Dianna different?”

  “Everything.”

  Connor couldn’t have asked anyone but his brother, “How did you know?”

  “I couldn’t push her away, couldn’t get her out of my head. Every single second, she was with me.”

  Sam and Dianna’s relationship had spanned ten years. Not a week, a sledgehammer falling unexpectedly into the center of Connor’s heart.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he told Sam.

  He couldn’t spend another second in this cabin, not when he couldn’t push Ginger away.

  Isabel had brought it all home. Her warning couldn’t have been more clear.

  Leave Ginger alone. Let her be happy. Without you.

  Jesus. How was he going to find the strength to do that?

  The wind was strong again today. Cold and biting, perfectly suited for his mood. He needed to get out in the Laser, let the whitecaps whip him around. He went down to the boathouse, stripped down and put on one of the suits hanging from a hook on the wall.

  The sail was dusty as he carried it waist deep into the water to the buoy. His abs got a workout as he balanced on top of the boat, unrolled and raised the sail and hooked it into place.

  As soon as he unhooked the clip from the buoy, the Laser shot through the water. It took him only a few seconds to find his rhythm. The farther he got from the shore, the faster the wind whipped. He felt the hollow pounding of the fiberglass hull hitting the growing waves, hoping it would numb his mind. Rain had started coming down and he welcomed the storm even as the drops turned into pellets.

  He gripped the tiller hard as flew over the water, waiting for the moment when all he’d feel was the hail on his skin, the rough pull of the water beneath the hull. But Ginger was still there, in every swirling whitecap he slammed into.

  Just like Sam had felt about Dianna, Connor couldn’t get Ginger out of his head.

  Every single second she was with him.

  The wind changed directions and he barely caught the boom in time before it slammed into his head. The sheet bit into his hand, but he barely felt it. He couldn’t tell if his hands were growing numb simply from the cold or if it was his usual nerve bullshit. But then he realized it wasn’t just his hands going numb, it was his whole arm. All the way up to his shoulder.

  In the split second that he lost his concentration, the wind yanked the boat over. He hiked out as far as he could, his body parallel to the water, his abs hard, his quads flexed as they hooked to the underside of the deck. He tried to right the boat, but once the centerboard was no longer in the water all traction was lost. The sail was already dragging into the water, going under, flipping the boat completely upside down. He lost his grip on the side of the deck as he went under and had to swim hard to keep the wind from moving the boat out of his reach.

  Jesus, the water was cold out in the middle of the lake and he didn’t have enough body fat to withstand it for long. Again and again he crawled onto the turtled hull reaching for the centerboard, but it was too damn slippery, too damn slick for his hands to gain any traction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE CABIN was empty when Ginger arrived home a short while later. Looking out at the beach, she noted that the sailboat was gone from the buoy. Thinking of Connor out there in winds like this had her instantly worried.

  No, she told herself. He’d grown up on this lake. He knew when it was safe to go out and when it wasn’t.

  She needed to stop thinking about him every second. After changing into a paint-spattered sweatshirt and jeans, Ginger brought her easel in from the windy porch and stood in front of her it. This moment was a test. A test she desperately needed to ace.

  The acclaimed Blue Mountain Lake Art Show was coming up in two weeks and this was the start of her week off to get ready. The good news was that she’d just sold another one of her paintings off the wall of the diner this morning during breakfast, but it did mean that she had one less painting to put on display.

  All week she’d need to paint like a whirling dervish to get everything done on time. Especially since she’d given up so many hours this past week for the pleasure of being in Connor’s arms. At the same time, though, she was thankful for the way her time with him had fueled her. A few sweet days in his arms, loving him, had provided her work with a much deeper emotional sensibility.

  It was only if her creativity had become intrinsically tied to him that she was completely screwed.

  Taking a deep breath, as she lifted a brush she decided she couldn’t let Connor take this from her too. He already had her heart.

  She deserved to keep something for herself.

  It wasn’t an easy start, but thank God, she finally started disappearing inside her paints. She didn’t know how long she’d been working—time simply fell away when she hit her groove—when she looked up from her easel and saw that the wind had turned into a full-on hail and rain storm.

  And that’s when she realized Connor was still out there.

  In the kind of storm that could destroy a small sailboat.

  She ran out of the cabin, down the beach to the dock. The cover was still on the power boat and she ripped at it, tearing a couple of fingernails in her panic. The storm had sent a thick fog in addition to the rain and wind. With the bo
at uncovered just enough for her to be able to sit behind the wheel and steer, she quickly untied the ropes holding it to the dock and turned the key in the ignition. She wanted to go fast, shoot out onto the lake to find Connor, but she could barely see five feet in front of her and had to creep along.

  Where was he?

  She prayed then, harder than she ever had before, and then she saw it—a quick flash of something that looked like the white of the upside-down hull—and drove toward it.

  She had to get within twenty feet before she could clearly see the boat. She didn’t see Connor at first. She lost her grip on the steering wheel as the shock of losing him almost took her down, but then, a second later she saw his head, his shoulders, bobbing up and down in the water as he tried to climb onto the upside-down hull.

  Connor was trained for saving people. Not Ginger. But now that their positions were reversed, she knew she needed to not only draw from her own strength, but his too.

  Steadily, she drew the boat up alongside him, needing to get as close as she could without hitting him. With the wind and huge swells knocking them both around in the lake, it was difficult, but she refused to back down, to give in to the fear trying to break her.

  He saw her then, coming for him. She cut the engine and leaned as far as she could out of the boat without falling into the water. He was just out of reach, just beyond her fingers, but she knew she couldn’t jump into the water, couldn’t let the power boat get away from them. She reached again for him and this time, her fingers were able to catch his.

  Pulling from a strength she hadn’t known was in her, she wrapped her cold hands around his near-frozen flesh and pulled him away from the sailboat. He could barely close his fingers, and she knew that the combination of the cold and wet with his nerve damage must be making even the slightest movements nearly impossible.

  But then, he was the one pulling her toward him and as the two boats slammed together, he leaped into the power boat.