by Iris Morland
He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “My dad knew he didn’t have much time left. He took me aside and said that there was no reason I should throw away my future because of him. So I didn’t.”
Holly wished she could tell a story like that about her parents, but she’d never known her father, and her mother was God only knew where right now. Holly’s mom had dragged her from place to place, boyfriend to boyfriend, always looking for drugs and a place to sleep. By the time Holly had been in junior high, she’d run away enough times that the state put her in foster care. She’d left on her eighteenth birthday to attend college before she’d met Sam.
The conversation lulled, and Holly finished off her second beer and began on the third. She was pleasantly tipsy at the moment, and warm from the fire, the blanket, and the alcohol. She noticed that Matt had unbuttoned his shirt, which revealed a golden throat with light stubble dotting it. Wondering if he would taste as yummy as he looked, she willed herself not to reach out and touch him.
It’s just been too long since you’ve had sex, her hazy mind reasoned. Once you get on the road, you’ll forget all about him.
She had a distinct feeling that wouldn’t be the case, but she was good at lying to herself. And her brain was too mushy to combat the idea, anyway.
“Tell me why you left Louisiana.” Matt lifted his beer to his lips as he looked at her.
She swallowed. Sipping her own beer, she called herself all sorts of foolish for starting this game in the first place. Then again, there was a feeling of relief in the idea of spilling everything to this man. Would he understand, though? Or would he look at her in disgust instead of with his eyes flashing in the firelight?
“I broke up with my boyfriend a month ago,” she said, staring at the dancing flames of the fireplace. “But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Sam, he is—was—volatile. Emotional. We’d break up, and then he’d come back, begging for me to take him back. I always fell for it, but this time, I was done.”
Matt just waited for her to continue.
“I got my own place and everything. I’d gotten a decent job down at the mall, and I was paying my rent. I’d never done that before—Sam had always done it. I’d changed my number, all the things they tell you to do. But he still found me.”
Her voice fell away, and she sensed the tension running through Matt’s body.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
She shrugged, but it was a pointless gesture. It was an attempt at levity where no levity could be found. “He came to my place, and we had a fight. A huge one. He…he pushed me up against the wall and tried to choke me.”
Matt swore, and she looked at him in surprise. “That piece of shit,” he growled. “I hope you killed him?”
She shook her head. “The cops came, and they took him away. But I knew that he’d get out on bail and find me. So I packed up my stuff and drove. I didn’t even know where I’d go. And now I’m here, telling you my sob story.”
“Holly.” He looked like he wanted to touch her, but thought better of it. “I’m sorry.”
“You know, it’s funny. When people say that, I never believe them. I always think, ‘why are they the ones saying sorry?’ They didn’t do anything. With you, I believe that you mean it.”
They gazed at each other, and Holly felt her heart crack. Just a little—a mere fissure—but she wondered, with an overwhelming sadness, if the entire trajectory of her life could’ve been different if she’d met this man years earlier.
Now, though, it was simply too late. She wasn’t going to get Matt involved in her troubles. She’d go underground, and forget any of this ever happened.
This was what she told herself, even though she knew with a painful clarity that it was a complete lie.
3
A s the night waned on, Matt was aware of two pressing things: one, they were going to be out of firewood soon and the power hadn’t come back on yet; and two, he was becoming more and more unwilling to part with Holly in the morning.
He watched as the fire slowly waned down to a mere spark, and he cursed himself for not getting more firewood before tonight. But who would have thought that the power would go out—and be out—this long? It had been close to three hours now, and the house was beginning to get colder, but nothing dire yet. He glanced at Holly, wrapped up in her blankets, and his very stupid mind told him he wouldn’t mind sharing body warmth with her if necessary.
Leave her alone, he told himself. She’s been through hell and back again. She doesn’t need you getting handsy.
This was what Matt told himself, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from pouring into his mind. He couldn’t sleep now. How could he sleep with her sitting next to him, smelling of flowers, her bright red hair glinting in the low light?
He saw her shiver. “You want another blanket?” he asked.
She rubbed her arms underneath the blanket around her. “I’m just so cold,” she said softly, like it surprised her. “Do you think they’ll get the power on anytime soon?”
Considering they were out in the middle of nowhere…he doubted it. The storm raged on outside, and although he could maybe try to drive into town if he were desperate enough, he could also end up in a ditch like Holly, and then he’d been in real trouble. He couldn’t very well go out into the blizzard to chop down wood for the fire, either. So he got up, grabbed all of the blankets and comforters he had, and wrapped the fuzziest one around Holly’s thin shoulders.
“Come and sit with me,” he said, not even thinking about what he was saying. If she were cold, he could warm her. It would be silly not to share warmth. “I’m basically a human furnace.”
She hesitated, but after a moment of indecision, she scooted toward him. She didn’t sit right next to him, though, like they were in junior high on their first date. He couldn’t help but smile.
“I won’t bite, I promise.”
She laughed softly. Moving until her thigh pressed against his, she curled up against him. Matt wrapped his arm around her, and he couldn’t help the feeling that this was right. She fit perfectly against him.
“Better?” His voice was husky, low. If he didn’t know better, they were lovers, sitting together in front of the fire on a winter’s night.
She looked up at him, her lashes dark, and she said in a voice that sent a shiver through him, “Better.”
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly he felt it in his bones. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe from everyone who would try to hurt her, and he wanted to make her smile and laugh. He wanted to tell her about his boring life and have her tell him that he wasn’t boring, but that he had as much to offer as anyone else.
Reaching up to stroke her cheek, he reveled when she didn’t push him away. She just stared up at him, her gaze unreadable in the dim light, and he touched the silky softness of her cheek. He pushed a strand of her hair off of her forehead. He touched her hair. And then he leaned down, not thinking, just feeling—and wanting.
“Matt…” She turned her face away. Was she breathing harder, or was it his imagination? “We can’t.”
His heart plummeted to his toes. What the hell was he doing? Did he really take women home and then try to kiss them when they had nowhere else to go? Disgust filled him, but only directed at himself.
When Holly tried to move away, he said, “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. But I don’t want you to freeze.” She didn’t say anything, so he added, “I won’t touch you again. I promise.”
He saw a bit of a smile on her face. “It’s not that I don’t want you to, but I can’t. I’m too messed up. There’s too much of…everything.” She looked up at him again. “You know what I mean?”
He did, and he didn’t. But he nodded, and they stared into the dying fire, and Matt told himself when the snow stopped, he’d let her go. He’d let her go, and he’d never see her again.
But the snow raged on, and on, piling up outside, and when the fire completely went out, the house was plunged
into darkness and frigid temperatures. Matt wished he hadn’t been cheap, deciding against a back-up generator. When he got up to go to the bathroom, he saw that the outside thermometer read 0 degrees Fahrenheit. He turned on the radio when he got back, and the weather report didn’t help him feel better.
“The snow will continue into the night and the morning,” the weatherman said in a bland voice. “Thousands are currently without power, and crews are working into the night to restore electricity. That being said, visibility is so poor that I imagine a lot of you won’t have any power for some time yet. Stay warm, folks.”
Matt switched off the radio. Holly snuggled against him, but he soon felt her shivering again. He refused to let her get cold like that.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs to my room,” he said. When she just froze, he blushed. “Not for that. I mean, because it’ll be warmer upstairs, and we can wrap up in the blankets on a bed instead of the couch.”
“Are you sure?” Holly sounded dubious.
“Very. Arya, Sansa, come on. Let’s take all of these blankets upstairs, and we’ll make a cocoon out of them. We can also stuff the cracks in the windows so we don’t lose all of the residual heat. I also have plenty of socks and jackets, too.”
Holly followed him upstairs, carrying blankets, the dogs padding behind them. Although Arya and Sansa were never allowed on the bed, Matt let them get up there with them since they were basically large heaters, and he hated to think of the dogs shivering in the cold on the floor. He stuffed the cracks in the windows, shut the bedroom door, and wrapped himself up in blankets. Holly put on layers of socks and mittens and a hat, and he couldn’t help but smile at her when she got on the bed with him.
He held his arms out to her. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She burrowed against him, sighing contentedly.
“How are you so warm?” Her breath fanned against his throat.
“I think I run hotter than most people. Or it’s just all of my muscles, you know.”
She laughed, and his body heated at the sound. “Something like that, I’m sure.”
He was all too aware of her against him, her body sweet and soft, and he cursed himself when his body reacted. He just hoped that with all of the blankets and clothes between them that she was unaware of the hardness against her. The last thing she needed was some creep poking her in the stomach with his erection when they were in a life or death situation.
Okay, it maybe wasn’t life or death, all things considered, but still. He’d already gone too far in touching her; making her aware how much he wanted her? That was something else entirely.
She breathed against his throat, her eyelashes fluttering. Within minutes, she fell asleep, and he thanked God for it. May she sleep the night away, he thought. May she wake up, and the power is back on, and then I can get her car out and on her way.
Arya snored behind him, while Sansa was lying against Holly’s back. All in all, the two humans and two canines were toasty warm. Feeling exhaustion swamp his limbs, it wasn’t long before Matt fell asleep, too.
IT WAS STILL DARK when Matt awoke to a noise that he first thought was one of the dogs fretting to get out. He opened his eyes, trying to make anything out in the gloom, when he realized that it wasn’t one of the dogs. It was Holly. She whimpered and moaned, pushing against his chest, and she kept saying something.
“Please don’t,” she pleaded, pushing and pushing. “Please. Sam, you can’t. Please!”
Matt froze. Did he wake her, or let the dream play out? He didn’t want to startle her. But when she started trying to hit him, he didn’t have much of a choice.
He shook her. “Holly! Holly, wake up! It’s a dream, sweetheart.” He didn’t even realize the endearment had fallen from his lips, but it felt right for some reason. “Holly, wake up. Wake up.”
She moaned. He almost thought she’d fallen back asleep, but her lashes fluttered and then she looked up at him like he was a stranger. He couldn’t make out her expression in the dark, so he switched on the flashlight.
They both blinked at the bright light. Finally, he was able to see her face, and he realized with a start that she’d been crying.
“Oh Holly,” he breathed. He brushed a tear from her cheek. “What were you dreaming?”
She shuddered; he pulled her close. Arya snuffled, her snout almost in his armpit.
“It was nothing. Sometimes I have weird dreams.” But her voice was shaky.
“Tell me what happened. Was it about your ex? Sam?”
She shook her head.
“You said his name,” he said gently. “You kept saying please and no, too.”
She seemed to deflate in his arms, like she didn’t have the energy even to speak now.
“I keep having dreams,” she finally whispered into the gloom. “About when Sam attacked me. I thought by now I’d be over it, but it’s like every time I close my eyes, he’s there. Sometimes I get away, but other times, I don’t.”
He rubbed her back in soothing circles, rage filling him. If he could get his hands on this Sam character, he would. He’d punch him so hard he’d see stars, and then he’d punch him again for good measure. How could someone treat someone as lovely and caring as Holly so badly? He’d seen enough domestic violence cases as a police officer to know there was no rhyme or reason to them, besides men wanting to hurt women and not let them get away.
He felt her body shudder, and she cried against his shoulder. He let her, not knowing what else to do. Rubbing her back, saying soothing things into her hair, he didn’t know what else to do. But it seemed to help calm her down after some time.
She moved so she could wipe her face. “God, I’m sorry,” she said. “Here I am, making you take me to your house, feeding me, and then I end up crying like a baby. You must think I’m insane.”
“Not insane. Just scared. And sad.”
She bit her lip before letting out a breath. “I’m so tired of being scared,” she admitted. “So tired, Matt. What if he finds me? He’ll kill me. I know he will. What if I can never get away from him?”
He shushed her, but he didn’t tell her she shouldn’t be afraid. He knew the statistics; he’d seen the aftermath more than once. Not in Heron’s Landing, but when he’d first started working as a cop. He’d go out to one place in particular, see the bruises on that woman’s face, but her husband had somehow managed to avoid jail time. And when she’d tried to leave… He forced the memories away. This time, he’d keep this woman in his arms safe from harm.
Holly sighed. Matt kissed her forehead, even though he knew he shouldn’t. But it wasn’t a sexual kiss, but one of comfort. A promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.
When she tipped her head back, her eyes dark, he didn’t stop her when she touched his face. When she brushed fingertips across his eyebrows, down his face, tracing the line of his jaw. She smiled a little at the feeling of his stubble. He barely breathed when her thumb brushed his lower lip. And when she reached up and pressed her mouth against his, he didn’t tell her that this wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t say anything at all.
Instead, he wrapped her in his arms, and he kissed her with everything he had, because it was the only response that made sense. She made sense. He slanted his mouth over hers, tasting her sweetness, and when she moaned? His heart thrilled.
He kissed her until his mind emptied. Gentle, teasing kisses, kisses that told her everything he’d wanted to say the moment he’d first seen her. Kisses that even he didn’t fully comprehend. Kisses that made him see stars behind his eyelids.
He felt fingers in his hair, and he laughed a little when Holly pulled off the ski cap he’d put over his hair. What did he need all of these clothes and blankets for anyway? He was an inferno. He was burning up. It was like a fever underneath his skin, but it was a fever solely for this woman in his arms.
Holly touched her tongue to his, and it was like flame to kindling. He rolled her over, kissing her all the while, their bodies aligned. His erection pressed
against her thigh, and she whispered his name as they kissed harder and harder. He wouldn’t be surprised if steam was rising from their bodies. Their tongues dancing together, he touched her face, her neck, wishing he could get her out of all of these damn clothes—
And then he heard a whir and suddenly, the house came alive. The power turned back on, the heat practically bursting through the vents. Arya and Sansa barked, running from the bed, and the light flooding the room caused Matt to realize what they were doing. That he was on top of Holly, that they’d been kissing, and that he was the biggest jackass this side of the Mississippi.
Holly’s face seemed to echo his own horror, and he sat up so quickly that he felt dizzy. But they were still entangled in all of those damn blankets, and he cursed when he couldn’t free himself. Holly finally stumbled from the bed, her hair a mess, and then she ran from the room like the hounds of hell were at her heels.
Matt collapsed back into the bed. Eventually, Arya and Sansa came back, licking his dangling fingers. He patted them on the head, muttering, “I’m such an idiot,” to no one in particular.
4
Holly shut the door to the guest bedroom and promptly collapsed in front of said door, her heart pounding so hard she felt dizzy. She still had one of the blankets wrapped around her shoulders, and she shrugged it off and tossed it into a corner somewhere. The heat blazed through the house now that the power had come back on; it was so loud that Holly could almost imagine she was alone.
Of course, she wasn’t alone—not even slightly. She thought about Matt: about his kisses, and touches, and how he smelled so good. Why did he have to smell so good? It wasn’t fair. She wished an old man with two teeth and who smelled like fish had picked her up out of that stupid ditch. Then she wouldn’t be sitting here, her hand over her heart, wanting to return to Matt’s room and kiss him again.
I can’t let this happen, she told herself. Matt didn’t need to get caught up in her drama, and besides, she had terrible judgment in men. When she’d first met Sam, she’d thought he was the sun, the moon, and the stars. She’d loved him—and trusted him—within a day of meeting him. And look how that had turned out. Running for her life from the very man she’d been convinced was her soulmate.