Silver Bells

by Ev Bishop

  “Totally,” she said, embarrassed by how raw and croaky her voice was. He could probably tell how attractive she found him. After all, she practically swooned every time he looked at her, said the kindest word, and now… This.

  “I promise I won’t take advantage,” he’d said when she first offered to share the bed, an assurance she both appreciated and found slightly disappointing.

  They each sat down on their separate sides, and Bryn reached over and clicked out the light. Velvet darkness blanketed the room and for a moment they were both completely still. Then the mattress dipped and shuddered. Sean had lain down and was arranging himself for sleep. She followed his lead and eased onto her side, facing into the center of the bed. Was Sean a side or stomach or back sleeper? And if the former, was he facing toward her or away?

  The few minutes she’d been in bed by herself before deciding it wasn’t fair for her to get the good mattress while he froze on the floor hadn’t been enough to warm the sheets. She rubbed her legs up and down the soft cotton, trying to heat them. Even that simple movement felt intensely erotic.

  Beside her, Sean sighed deeply—and she realized he was indeed facing her. She shivered a little.

  “Cold?” he whispered.

  “Not too bad. The bed will warm up soon.”

  “Yeah.” Sean sighed again, sounding very content. “I love this duvet. It’s like resting under a marshmallow.”

  Under the cover of darkness, and with the added courage from the evening’s earlier drinking, Bryn decided to speak her mind, knowing if she didn’t do so now, she’d probably chicken out in the morning. “Maybe it’s weird to say this since we only met because of your accident, but I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad we met.”

  Sean didn’t reply immediately, but the mattress shifted again. In the shadows, now that Bryn’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, she saw Sean prop himself up on one elbow and study her. “I’m glad too,” he said softly. “It was a great night. In fact, there’s only one thing that would make it even better.”

  Bryn laughed a bit nervously. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “Before you went to bed I wanted to kiss you good night.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  Something thrilled deep inside Bryn. Sean liked her, was attracted to her. It wasn’t all one-sided or imagined.

  “Well, it’s not too late for one kiss.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want some chaste, gentle lip brush thing,” he warned.

  “Oh no?”

  “No, I want to give you the kind of kiss you really feel—in all your parts.”

  “Oh, really?” She tried hard to sound skeptical, not as breathless as the idea—all your parts—made her.

  Instead of answering with words, Sean responded with action. He remained propped on one elbow, taking her in with his eyes, and reached toward her with his free hand. He stroked her hair, then ran his fingers along the side of her face, pausing at the crease of her eye, the peak of her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth… He hadn’t even kissed her yet, but good grief, she was already feeling a lot of things in a lot of her parts—things she’d worried she might never feel again.

  He smoothed his hand down her shoulder and arm, stopping at her wrist, which he encircled with his fingers. Then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the tender place over her radial artery on the inside of her wrist. Her heart thumped so wildly she was sure he could feel it against his lips.

  When he pushed gently on her shoulder, she fell to rest on her back beneath him. He pressed a kiss to her jaw just below her ear and then another to her neck. One of his hands moved between her and the mattress and the other traced her ribs and hip. Then both hands found the curve of her butt and pulled her close.

  Bryn was breathing hard now, and she inhaled sharply as she felt his muscular legs twine with hers and his pelvis lightly grind against her, his erection pressing the softness of her belly. A wave of pleasure crashed through her. “Oh…” she moaned, but the sound was quelled by his mouth.

  For a few minutes, Bryn lost all conscious thought, was aware only of a flood of sensation. Sean’s lips, soft and gentle on hers. The stubble on his chin, seductively rough against her skin. His scent—faint eucalyptus from his soak, the tiniest hint of musk breaking through the mask of fresh, masculine deodorant, sweet undertones of rum… Why did the combination make her stomach tighten with desire? His mouth firmer on hers, insistent. Her opening to the press of him—

  He teased her tongue with his own, then searched, then demanded an equally intense response.

  His hands on the small of her back kneaded in rhythm with his tongue and Bryn was conscious of the liquid heat pooling between her legs and a feral urge low in her center. Then Sean moved suddenly, shifting his attention lower, kissing and licking the sensitive arch of her exposed throat. She couldn’t keep from groaning.

  When he found the hollow of her neck with his tongue, then gently sucked, she yelped. Sean seemed undone by the noise and collapsed, panting, beside her.

  “Okay then, that’s out of the way. Good night,” he said finally.

  It was a moment before Bryn could respond, but then she laughed, her own breathing a little ragged.

  “No, seriously,” he added. “You are… That was…” Seemingly at a loss for words, he didn’t complete either thought. Instead he nudged her onto her side, facing her away from himself, and curved his body around hers. “Is this okay?”

  “Yeah,” Bryn agreed happily.

  For a few seconds they were completely silent, then Sean added, “Did you like that as much I did?”

  “Couldn’t you tell?” Bryn asked.

  “Hell yeah, I could.”

  Bryn giggled softly, too sleepy and happy to bother feeling embarrassed. She’d leave all self-doubt and self-berating until the morning when they said good-bye. A tide of wistfulness swept over her. She hadn’t even known Sean for twenty-four hours, but she was going to miss him. A lot. Was it remotely possible that they could continue to see each other? Maybe arrange to meet for a date in the new year and see if they still liked each other, if maybe they had something?

  Sean’s arm on her waist grew heavier and his breathing slowed; he was obviously falling asleep. Bryn sighed and curled into him, letting herself fully enjoy the moment. Why couldn’t she pretend they had a chance? Who was to say they didn’t? Maybe he didn’t want kids, not everyone did.

  Sean stirred and hugged Bryn closer, then mumbled sleepily, “I think I want to marry you.”

  What the hell? Bryn’s brain bolted awake, all sweet dregs of sleepy, sexy feelings momentarily obliterated. What kind of weirdo talks about marriage after one kiss? Then Sean let out a soft, boozy exhale and Bryn relaxed. It was the alcohol talking, removing all inhibitions. Hadn’t she just been fantasizing about some possible future too? If her thoughts had been spoken aloud because inebriation turned off her internal self-censor, she would’ve looked equally out to lunch.

  Sean exhaled again, but it wasn’t his warm breath on her skin that made Bryn shiver and want to resume their long, sweet kiss and move onto all sorts of other things. No—since she was fully admitting her own lack of sobriety and her raging attraction to Sean—she let herself privately acknowledge something else. His words had filled her with a longing that went deeper than desire for physical pleasure—though heaven help her, she was pining for that in spades too.

  What if marriage, not to Sean most likely, obviously, but to someone, sometime, wasn’t really permanently off the table?

  “You’re drunk,” she said as much to herself as to him.

  “Oh yeah, I am,” he murmured, a smile in his voice. “On happiness.”

  The teasing echo of their earlier exchange made Bryn’s stomach flip with something she didn’t want to admit was joy, but couldn’t help feeling anyway. They already had an inside joke.

  “Yep,” he continued in a d
reamy rumble. “I’ll build us a cabin like this somewhere. We can hole up, make love whenever we want, raise a bunch of babies—”

  This time, Bryn’s whole body stiffened and she pulled away. Drunken blather or not, of course a man as great as Sean would want the whole package, not a damaged—

  She didn’t get very far. Sean clasped her hip, keeping her close. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. “It’s okay. Are you having a bad dream?”

  Bryn was touched—and surprised—that even in the haze between sleeping and wakefulness, Sean was so tuned into her feelings. Her problem, however, was the opposite of what he suggested. She had let herself have a happy dream. If only her playing pretend could’ve lasted till morning.

  “Goodnight, lovely Bryn. Sweet dreams.” Sean pressed his lips to her shoulder in one last lingering kiss. Bryn waffled, then made a decision. She let her body soften and form to his again. She would allow herself this one night, this temporary but oh-so-sweet delusion.

  Chapter 9

  Bryn studied her face in the small bathroom mirror and wished she had left the cabin before Sean woke up. She had managed—very regretfully, wanting to stay cozied up with him for the rest of the morning—to slip out of his embrace and exit the bed without waking him, but now she heard him rustling about in the kitchen.

  What had she been thinking the night before? Answer: nothing smart. Plus, she looked as hungover as she felt, which made her extra plain and limp seeming. She was, as Brad used to say, blah and bland in the extreme.

  Worse than her pounding head and unkind self-talk, however, was the crash and burn of the lovely fantasy she’d been indulging, regarding sweet, sexy Sean. Yes, she’d managed to enjoy her delicious daydream through the night, even after the ice water dose of reality his “raise a bunch of babies” line had thrown at her. But it was morning now. The fun of her late-night waking dream was over.

  She scrubbed her pale as milk face hard with a washcloth, hoping to wake herself up and possibly get a bit of color in her cheeks. Then she forced herself to get a grip. If she didn’t leave the washroom soon, it would seem like she had some horribly embarrassing problem. Sean would be scared to go in. How humiliating!

  Steve was apparently frustrated by what a ninny she was too. He positioned himself on the other side of the bathroom door and commenced a low panting whine. She finally crept out as quietly as she could, but it was no use. Steve gamboled about in ecstasy at her reappearance, and Sean turned from the sink of dishes he was washing, his scruffy face lit with a big smile. Good grief, the man could almost freeze to death, eat his body weight in heavy food, drink half a 26er of rum and still wake up looking super hot and ready for anything. If she didn’t like him so much, she’d have to hate him. He probably didn’t even get morning breath. Bryn was suddenly beyond relieved that she’d snuck into the bathroom first. At least her teeth were brushed and she was clean.

  “Good morning,” he said cheerily.

  “Yeah,” she mumbled, then cringed at her tone. She wasn’t grouchy—just confused. Sean still sounded friendly, like he still liked her… but that wasn’t possible and she wasn’t going to pretend to herself that it was.

  His smile didn’t falter, but he spoke a little quieter. “Can I make you coffee before we go for breakfast?”

  Right. Breakfast. Her uninhibited rum-soaked question before she’d gone to bed, before they shared that kiss, came back to her. Can we eat breakfast together before we say good-bye? Ugh. Had she sounded like she was begging, pleading, being desperate? Probably.

  He’d most likely only said yes to be kind—and she didn’t want him to feel obligated now, just because they’d kissed and she probably had “I’m a dork and have already fallen for you” written all over her forehead.

  But it wasn’t a casual kiss, her brain argued. Or it sure didn’t feel like one to her anyway—but that was the problem. Lots of people shared kisses, and a whole lot more, as easily as saying Cheers! She wasn’t going to repeat her old mistakes and read a bunch into it. The day Brad told her it was over, that he wanted someone “whole” who could have a family, she’d been utterly stunned. And twisting the knife of shock was the fact they’d made love the night before—no, scratch that. She now knew it had nothing to do with love. They’d had sex, but wild, really good sex. When she asked Brad how, why that had even been possible, she’d been permanently changed and shaken by his terse reply and the meanness in his eyes.

  “Grow up, Bryn.”

  Even now, recalling the memory, she wilted in humiliation and hurt. Everything she thought was special, was sacred was… nothing. And she had grown up since then. She saw a lot of things more clearly, much more clearly—but she missed her old self, the trusting, fun-loving, easily sensual person she’d been—the woman who had come out to play just a little bit with Sean the night before.

  Sean. Bryn crashed back to the present in a hurry. She’d almost forgotten he was right there, that he’d asked her a question. He was staring. She flushed.

  “Coffee?” he repeated softly.

  She shook her head abruptly. “No thanks. I’ve got calls to make. I’ll leave my stuff here for now and come back for it.”

  Sean hesitated, a serving spatula he’d been drying in one hand, a black and cream striped tea towel in the other. He set both items down on the counter and nodded slowly. “Oh… okay. Should I just meet you in the dining hall then? How long do you need for the phone? Fifteen minutes, half an hour?”

  Why didn’t he understand he didn’t have to keep being so nice? “Not long, but you don’t have to meet me. It’s fine.”

  “But I thought we were going to…” Sean trailed off and resumed drying dishes. When he spoke again, his voice was matter-of-fact and much less buoyant. “It’s going to be a busy day. We’ll need to eat. I’ll see you there.”

  Bryn shrugged, slid her boots on, grabbed her jacket, and sprinted from the cabin.

  She finished zipping her coat as she tramped along the trail, dry snow squeaking under her boots. Although it was already nine in the morning, the sun was just beginning its slow rise and the sky beyond the snow-draped evergreens was pink and purple. Bryn couldn’t fully appreciate the beauty, however. She kept remembering Sean’s change in demeanor and realized—baffling and impossible as it seemed—that maybe she’d confused him, had hurt his feelings even. But how would that make sense? Still, she knew the difference between a wounded ego and its angry kind of “sad” (Brad!) and genuine disappointment. Had Sean really felt the latter when she hadn’t been enthusiastic about breakfast?

  No. She shook her head at herself, impatient with her undying skill for self-deception and wishful thinking. His mood change probably came from pondering the chores of the upcoming day. And his tender whisperings while they cuddled that kept sneaking back to torture her? They were the drunken ramblings of a sweet man who’d had a good night and who thought the person he was whispering to was asleep. Besides, even if there had been an iota of sincerity in them—a big if—his fantasy involved kids, so that was the end, kaput.

  As Bryn neared the big circular parking lot, a family of five emerged from the dining hall, laughing and jostling each other. Bryn pulled out her cellphone to distract herself from her sad, lame thoughts and to keep herself from tearing up. There was so much beauty around her—beauty that she was always a witness to, never a part of.

  Powering her phone on, Jo’s claim regarding cell service proved true. Bryn had only enough signal to show she had seven voicemails—all from her mother’s number—but not enough to check the actual messages.

  Chapter 10

  The scent of fresh cinnamon buns and coffee flirted with Sean before he even reached the dining hall. Normally tracking down the source of the delicious smell and eating his fill would be a priority, but today it was almost an unwelcome distraction. He didn’t want breakfast—or he did, but only if he could get things sorted out with Bryn. What had changed? Why could she hardly look at him? The evening before, her blush had been cute and
endearing. Today it was painful, obviously caused by discomfort, not mutual attraction.

  You know exactly what changed, you idiot, the nastier side of his inner voice said. And he did. The knowledge had fallen into his head, thudding like snow sliding off a roof, as he followed Bryn’s footsteps along the path toward the dining hall.

  The night had unfolded like some perfect dream, and even before that crazy, mind-blowing kiss, Sean had known one thing with his whole being: he was interested-interested in Bryn. It wasn’t just a physical attraction. He really wanted to get to know her—had thought that maybe they had something, or, even crazier, that maybe love at first sight, or close to it, was actually a thing.

  Yeah, because in addition to being an idiot, he was a psycho—

  Except he really wasn’t, though he couldn’t fault Bryn if that’s what she thought. He was something much worse—a romantic. You’d have thought being involved with Gemma for so long would’ve cured him, but no…

  He reached the stairs leading to the dining hall’s porch, but procrastinated about entering. What if she ignored him, or worse, told him in no uncertain terms to get lost? He took his time kicking the snow off his boots and thoroughly brushing it from his backpack, which he’d repacked and brought with him in case Bryn wasn’t comfortable with him returning to the cabin with her. Everything had been going so well, had been so sweet… and then he’d had to mutter that stupid crap about thinking he wanted to marry her.

  The feelings were sincere, and not because of the alcohol. He’d found himself playing the What If game all night. What if their accidental meeting, their one night, turned into something more? What if they really did become a couple? What if they got along as well as they seemed to… for life? What if he got to satisfy the desire he had for her, in every way, in all sorts of ways, all the time? What if, what if, what if?