The Most Wonderful Time

by Fern Michaels

  Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  A few minutes later he came in the coffee shop, his limp a little less noticeable. Or maybe there were too many other things about him to look at. The broad width of his shoulders, the way his jeans hugged the best butt she’d ever seen, and his I’m-your-man-in-a-crisis attitude.

  He spotted her while standing at the bakery counter, giving his order, and came over to her booth. “This seat taken?”

  “It’s all yours.” She nudged her head at the pink box he carried. “What’s with all the pastries?”

  “They’re for our meeting this morning.”

  “What kind of meeting?”

  He took off his jacket and sat across from her, sipping from his to-go cup. He had on a long-sleeved crewneck that hugged his rock-hard chest and clung to his biceps. Hannah had never been that into muscular men but on Josh . . . oh Lordy.

  “We have one every week and they’re boring as hell,” he said. “Mostly TJ running his mouth, loving the sound of his own voice.”

  She laughed, then asked pointedly, “You want to talk about what happened last night?”

  “Not really. Do we have to?” He leaned back in the red plastic banquette, his lips curving up in a naughty grin.

  “I’ll just put it out there, then. I’m enjoying this newfound friendship of ours. And I very much enjoyed the kiss.” A total understatement.

  “Okay, good to know.”

  She leaned across the table. “Did TJ say anything?”

  “TJ’s a loser. He’s so hard up he has to live vicariously through others.”

  Hannah suppressed a laugh, knowing that for all the Garner brothers’ ribbing they loved one another like crazy.

  “So we’re good, right?”

  “Couldn’t be better,” he said. “You still want to come to my workouts?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends.”

  “Yep. Friends,” he said, enunciating “friends” and getting to his feet.

  “You’re leaving so soon?” Could he be any more uncommunicative?

  “Got to get these to the meeting.” He motioned to the box and put his jacket back on.

  “You want to come over tonight and help me finish the tree? I could make us dinner.”

  “I’ve got physical therapy in Reno.” He paused as if he was about to use his appointment as an excuse to say no. “Yeah, all right.”

  Why did she get the feeling he didn’t really want to come over?

  * * *

  “I very much enjoyed the kiss,” Josh mimicked as he drove back to Glory Junction from physical therapy. That kiss had been off the freaking hook, the gold standard of kisses, the one all others should be compared against. He’d be willing to bet his Soldier’s Medal that it was the best damned kiss she’d ever had. Josh’s leg was screwed up but his mouth worked just fine.

  And “I’m enjoying this newfound friendship of ours” made them sound like girls at a freaking tea party. Ah, what was he complaining about? It was all for the best. No sense starting something he wasn’t in a position to finish.

  Yet here he was, going back to her house, wondering whether he should pick up flowers.

  Sweet Stems was at the end of Main Street, near the police department, so Josh headed in that direction, convincing himself that it was just plain mannerly to bring something to dinner. It didn’t mean anything.

  There was a parking spot right in front of the floral shop and he snatched it before noticing Colt standing on the sidewalk talking on his phone. The last thing he needed was an interrogation from his brother. Colt had always been a nosy SOB and by now, news of Josh and Hannah’s kiss had likely spread through the Garner clan like a tornado. Too late to leave, though; Colt had already gotten off the phone and was looking straight at him.

  Josh carefully got out of the driver’s seat and nudged his head in greeting.

  “You here to see me?” Colt asked.

  “Nope. I wanted to say hi to Foster.”

  “Foster? I didn’t realize you two were such good friends.”

  “We went to high school together and I didn’t get to catch up with him at the VFW breakfast.”

  Colt smirked. “You went to high school with just about everyone in this town. Who are you getting flowers for?”

  Josh answered by flipping Colt the bird and hobbled off to the floral shop. But Colt followed him.

  “Now I know they’re not for Mom,” Colt said with that shit-eating grin that never failed to annoy the rest of the Garners.

  “Get lost, big brother, and mind your own business.”

  Colt ignored him and raced ahead of Josh into Sweet Stems like he owned the place. “Hey, Foster, my brother needs flowers, something real expensive.”

  Foster came to the counter in an apron, covered in pine needles. “You need them now? Because I closed an hour ago.” He eyed Josh. “Who are they for?”

  Colt leaned up against the counter, his arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Josh.”

  Josh turned around and made his way to the door. “I’ll just get ’em at the supermarket.”

  “Come back here, Joshua Garner,” Foster called. “Don’t you dare buy any janky supermarket flowers. Tell me what you want.”

  “Flowers.” Josh raised his hands in the air. “Just freaking flowers.”

  Foster let out an exasperated huff. “If I knew who they were for I’d have a better idea what kind of flowers.”

  Josh looked at Colt and back at Foster. “How about roses?”

  “Cliché,” Foster trilled, then waved him off. “Come back in fifteen minutes and I’ll make you something fabulous. Something that won’t embarrass both of us.”

  That worked for Josh. He let Colt cajole him into hanging out in the police department, where his brother could harangue him some more.

  “You go to therapy and your vet session today?”

  It wasn’t enough to get pricked and prodded, Josh was also expected to talk about how nearly losing a leg felt, emotionally. He could sum it up in two words: It sucked. “Yep.”

  “How did that go?” Colt asked as they walked to his office. The room was small and Colt cleared some paperwork from a chair and told Josh to take a seat. He sat at his chief’s desk, leaned back in the chair, and folded his arms behind his head. “You didn’t answer me, how did the group session go?”

  “Fine.”

  “You sleeping better?”

  “I’m sleeping fine, Colt.” He’d just spent the last two hours having his leg bent six ways to Sunday and his brain shrink-wrapped; the last thing he needed was the third degree.

  “We just care about you, Josh.” Colt got up and paced the office. “Mom’s worried you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “The exercise is good for my leg. I stop when it’s too much.”

  Colt sat back down. “Don’t go overboard. Take the time you need to heal. There’s no rush.”

  “I know.” Josh fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket.

  “You having dinner over at Hannah’s?” When Josh didn’t answer, Colt said, “Mom will want to know how many settings to put down.”

  Which was total bullshit. Dinner at the Garners was a casual affair. Basically, whoever showed up when the food was ready ate.

  Josh glanced at his watch. “Would you look at the time. Well, Colt, I’m really glad we could have this talk together.”

  Colt walked him out and Foster was waiting at the counter in the shop.

  “I’ll be right back.” He headed to the back of the store and returned a few minutes later holding a big red-and-white arrangement. Josh didn’t know a lot about flowers but it looked impressive.

  “Nice,” Josh said, and Foster let out an impatient sound, like “nice” didn’t cover it. “What do I owe you?”

  Foster rattled off a figure that seemed pretty reasonable to Josh, considering how involved the arrangement was. He pulled out his wallet and handed Fost
er his credit card.

  “Hannah says you’re killing it in this place.”

  “Yep. It’s certainly not the same skank shop you probably remember.”

  Josh didn’t remember it at all. Come to think of it, he’d never been in the store before today. Still, he nodded just to appease Foster, who briskly finished their transaction. Josh took the floral arrangement to his truck and secured it in the backseat.

  When he got to Hannah’s house, he grabbed the flowers and took his time getting to her porch and up the stairs in the snow. She opened the door before he could ring the bell.

  “Hi.”

  He flashed a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m early.”

  “I’m glad. Come in, it’s cold out.” She pointed to the flowers. “They’re gorgeous, are they for me?”

  “Yeah.” He’d been too busy looking at her and had forgotten that he was holding the vase. “I think you just need to add a little water.”

  She took the vase and Josh tugged off his gloves and jacket. He hung everything on a coatrack in the foyer and followed Hannah to the kitchen. She filled the vase from the tap and set it on the counter.

  “Thank you, Josh. I don’t think anyone has ever given me flowers this beautiful.”

  He wondered if she was just saying that. In all the time they were together, Chip must’ve gotten her flowers. “You can thank Foster.”

  “But it was your idea, right?”

  “Yup.” He went over to the stove. “What do you have going here? It smells good.”

  “French onion soup, roast, potatoes, and salad.”

  “You managed to do all that after work?”

  “I made the soup a couple of weeks ago and froze it. The roast and potatoes are nothing and the salad is from a bag.”

  It seemed like a lot of work to Josh. She’d also changed into some kind of sweater dress that skimmed her body like a wetsuit. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off her.

  “How was your therapy?” she asked as she moved around the kitchen, checking the temperature of the roast and adding rosemary to the potatoes.

  The table had already been set with fancy dishes. Hannah definitely had a flair for doing things up. All Josh had to do was look at her store.

  “All right,” he said.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Like a bitch. “Not too bad. The key is to get motion back and work the muscles.”

  “I guess your Ranger training prepared you for a rigorous rehab.”

  “That’s probably true. The course was sixty-one days of hell. I made it through that, I can surely make it through this.” He smiled because she was a rapt audience. “You need any help?”

  “Could you open the wine, please?” She gestured at a bottle of red on the counter.

  “I wondered if you drank . . . after Chip . . .”

  “He was the one with the problem, not me.”

  “I know that.” He took her hand in his. It was delicate and warm and he probably held on too long. “Sometimes certain things cause bad associations. I wasn’t sure whether that applied to liquor.”

  “Chip’s drink of choice was Jim Beam. Just the smell of whiskey sends me over the edge,” she acknowledged. “Wine, on the other hand, wasn’t his thing.”

  He couldn’t help himself and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re really beautiful, Hannah.” She looked skeptical, like he was feeding her a line. “Come on, men have to tell you that all the time.”

  She shrugged. “I’m just trying to get used to the fact that you don’t hate me.”

  He couldn’t hate her if he tried. But he needed to knock off the flirting.

  “Foster’s flower shop looks good.” He uncorked the bottle of red, giving it a few minutes to breathe before pouring.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” She bent over to take the roast out of the oven. Josh used the opportunity to stare at her ass and felt himself grow hard—something that hadn’t happened in awhile. He didn’t know whether to cry with relief that it was working or from frustration that he wouldn’t be using it tonight. To make himself useful he poured the wine and carried the salad bowl to the table.

  She bent over a few more times to move things around in the oven, clearly trying to kill him.

  “Everything looks great.” He grabbed the serving tray of sliced roast off the counter.

  “Sit and relax.” She took the platter from him.

  “Hannah, I can carry a plate.” It came out rougher than he intended but he could handle walking and holding a lightweight dish at the same time.

  “I have no doubt that you can cart a lot more than a serving tray.” She eyed his biceps. “But I’m the host and I take my serving responsibilities seriously.”

  It was a good save, he’d give her that.

  “I’m already impressed.” She might act casual about it, but a lot of work had been put into this dinner and he appreciated it.

  “Did you eat those MREs overseas?”

  He nodded. “And more recently hospital food.”

  “So the bar’s pretty low?” Hannah started to take her place at the table and Josh pulled the chair out for her.

  “Nah, I’ve been eating my mom’s food and she’s a great cook.”

  Hannah served him salad, meat, and potatoes. “Dig in and tell me if my meal lives up to Mary’s.”

  He took bites of everything and, yeah, Hannah knew her kitchen stuff. “It’s fantastic,” he said with a full mouth, and kept plowing through the huge portions she’d served him.

  And damned if she didn’t glow like downtown Glory Junction’s holiday lights. It made him wonder if Chip had been stingy with the compliments. But look at her: She ran her own business, made delicious home-cooked meals, decorated like a pro, and was smart, gorgeous, and sweet to boot. If she were his, he’d praise her until the cows came home. Longer.

  “I made Sabine’s pecan pie for dessert,” she said.

  “Seriously? When did you have time for that?”

  “I made a couple of pie shells a few days ago and froze them. The filling is nothing. You’ll have to take a piece for Colt. He loves her pie.”

  Josh choked back a laugh. No way would Sabine’s pecan pie ever make it past Josh’s mouth. Colt could get his own damn pie. “Sure.”

  Even though he was stuffed, he took seconds on the roast and potatoes. Every time he took a bite Hannah beamed. “Am I making a pig of myself?”

  She laughed. “Not at all. I like to cook and it’s nice to have someone enjoy it.”

  “You can cook for me anytime,” he said. “Let me ask you something, you still read mysteries?”

  “My gosh, you remember that.” Of course he did. She was reading one the first time he’d met her.

  “I’m addicted to them,” she continued, ticking off the title of the latest book she was reading before glancing at his empty plate. “You ready for pie or should we finish the tree first?”

  “Tree first. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  She got up and started clearing away the dishes. Josh tried to help but she wouldn’t let him.

  “You can help with KP next time, but first-time dinner guests get a pass.”

  He at least leaned against the counter while she quickly rinsed their plates and stuck them in the dishwasher. Within a short time she had the leftovers packed away and the table wiped clean.

  She grabbed the bottle of wine. “Let’s go in the living room.”

  He brought both their glasses, put them down on the coffee table, and topped them off. Next to the tree were the same boxes of ornaments from the other night.

  “You want me to keep hanging them?” he asked, nudging his head at the decorations.

  “That would be great. I have some ribbon I brought home from the store in the mudroom.”

  He watched her walk away, getting lost in the sway of her hips, then started hanging small wooden birdhouses off the tree’s surprisingly sturdy branches, trying to keep his mind off all the things he wanted t
o do with Hannah. None of them included decorating a Christmas tree. Although he had to say, he liked it, especially being in this house with her, just the two of them.

  “Pretty, right?” Hannah was back, holding up spools of ribbon.

  He shrugged. “What’s it for?”

  “To wind around the tree. You’ll see, when it’s done it’ll look amazing.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss. I like your dress, by the way.”

  She turned a nice shade of pink. “It’s warm and this house is drafty.”

  “If you’re cold I could make a fire.” He eyed a small stack of wood by her hearth.

  “That’s okay, I’ll warm up decorating.” She brushed by him, her breasts grazing his back, as she wound the ribbon around the tree.

  He wanted to be the one to warm her up, take her in his arms, and hold her. The other night had been a mere dress rehearsal for all the things he wanted to do.

  “What are you thinking about?” Hannah rehung one of the birdhouse ornaments he’d haphazardly put on the same branch as another one. “You drifted off for a second there, didn’t you?”

  “You really want to know what I was thinking?” She smelled like rosemary and evergreen and a perfume so familiar . . . His desire throbbed. “I was thinking that my kisses are a hell of a lot better than nice.”

  “Who said they weren’t?”

  “You did.” He moved toward her, took her around the waist, pulled her into his chest, and smothered her mouth with his.

  She melted against him. “Mm. For sure . . . better than nice.”

  “They sure the hell are.” A wall, he needed a wall to lean on so he backed her up against one and caged her in, using his forearms to hold him up. She twined her arms around his neck, never letting go of his mouth. He angled her head back so he could take the kiss deeper, using his tongue to explore. She tasted like wine and her body felt soft and warm snugged against him.