It's Only Love

by Marie Force

  * * *

  Thirty minutes after the DJ played the last song of the evening and everyone had left, Ella was almost finished stacking chairs and breaking down tables. Colton and Hunter were sweeping the floor and her sisters were in the kitchen with her mother, Cameron, Lucy and Megan wrapping up leftover food. They’d sent Hannah home to bed, and Lucas and Landon had left with the young women from the store.

  “Another great time,” Lincoln said when he stacked the last of the chairs on top of the cart that held them. “Well done, honey.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “What were they saying about the new product line?”

  “Everyone’s abuzz over it,” she said with a smile. “That joke isn’t going to get old for a while.”

  “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “It’s what you get for being so progressive.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice that Gavin left somewhat abruptly, and there was some sort of scuffle between Landon and Ed Sheehan.”

  Ella nodded, not surprised that her dad had tuned into the drama. “Ed was the one who told Gavin we wasted our time in Iraq, which led to the bar fight last summer.”

  Lincoln’s face tightened with outrage. “I hope Landon fired him.”

  “He did.”

  “Good. People have a right to their opinions about war and politics and religion, but to say that to someone who lost their brother . . .”

  “It’s obscene.”

  “On that we agree, my dear.” He put his arms around her. “You’ve gotten involved with a complicated man. A good man. A man I respect. I ache for what he’s lost, but I love you far too much to watch you be hurt by that good, complicated man. I just hope you’re being careful to protect your heart.”

  Ella laughed even as she blinked back tears. “I’m not being careful at all. I’m crazy in love with him, and I have been for longer than I can remember.” She wiped away the tears that spilled down her cheeks. The emotional reaction irritated and embarrassed her.

  Her dad smiled down at her, his love shining through the way it always did. “You’re our practical child, the one who always thinks before she acts, who plans everything with meticulous attention to detail. Those qualities make you exceptionally reliable and good at what you do for a living, but they aren’t necessarily the skills you need in this situation with Gavin.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  Comforted by his love and words of wisdom, Ella said, “What skills do I need?”

  “Besides patience and fortitude?”

  Ella laughed again. “Yes, other than that.”

  “I don’t know, honey, but I do know that you’re more than up to whatever challenge he presents. If anyone can lead that boy out of the darkness and back into the light, you can.”

  Touched and bolstered by his confidence in her, Ella looked up at him. “You really think so?”

  “I know so. Just don’t let him be less than what you deserve. You hear me?”

  Ella nodded. “I won’t.”

  “Good.” He hugged her again. “Now go on home and get some sleep. I’ll lock up here. You did great tonight, but then you always do.”

  “Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too.”

  On the short ride home, Ella thought about what her dad had said about the complicated man she’d fallen in love with. It helped to know he respected Gavin and liked him. That made it easier to tolerate the hurdles they were sure to encounter.

  She wanted so badly to go to him, to seek him out. But she couldn’t do that. She’d done that too many times already. Ella had no doubt at all that he cared deeply for her, as deeply as he’d ever cared for any woman. However, she couldn’t keep this relationship going on her own. He had to meet her halfway.

  Though it pained her greatly, she drove to her home rather than his. She would drown her sorrows with Ben and Jerry and get back to work on the blanket she was knitting for her new niece or nephew. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a life separate from him.

  Ella trudged up the stairs, mentally and physically exhausted from the week at work and the emotional ups and downs of her time with Gavin. She made a beeline for the freezer, where her pint of Cherry Garcia sitting next to his pint of Cake Batter made her miss him fiercely.

  She pulled the lid off her pint and dug a spoon into the creamy goodness. Taking the ice cream with her, she went into her bedroom, kicked off the heels she’d worn to work and changed into flannel pajama pants, a long-sleeve T-shirt and her favorite moccasin slippers. Tonight was all about comfort anywhere she could find it.

  Settled on the sofa with her ice cream and a down comforter over her lap, Ella pulled out her knitting bag and got to work on the blanket, determined to focus on the project rather than wondering where Gavin was, what he was doing and whether he regretted taking off the way he had earlier.

  Anger and frustration fueled her work as the multicolored yarn came together in rich pattern of pinks, blues and yellows. She couldn’t wait for the baby to arrive, to have someone new to love, to watch him or her grow up and be part of his or her life from the first day. Though she’d hoped to be a mother many times over by now, being an aunt would have to do, and she planned to be the best aunt ever to Max’s baby as well as Hannah’s.

  A sob escaped from Ella’s tightly clenched jaw. She dropped a stitch and tossed aside the blanket in aggravation. It was a bad night when Ben and Jerry were unable to work their usual magic and when she started dropping stitches. That hadn’t happened since she was first learning. Her grandma Sarah, who’d said she was a knitting prodigy, would be appalled, a thought that had Ella actively sobbing.

  A soft knock on the door startled her out of the pity party. She swiped at the tears that refused to stop coming, even when she tried to mop them up with the comforter.

  A second knock brought her to her feet. “Who is it?”

  “Me.”

  She contained the powerful urge to run to the door, to throw it open, to jump into his arms. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m not really in the mood to talk. It’s been a long day.”

  “Ella, please open the door. Give me the chance to apologize. Please?”

  Sighing, she went to the door, leaned her head against it for a long moment before she turned the knob. The first thing she saw and smelled were roses—lots of roses in every imaginable color—pink, red, white, yellow, coral.

  “I didn’t know what color represented ‘I’m sorry for being a dick’ so I got one of each color hoping the right one is in there somewhere. And oh fuck, you’ve been crying. God, Ella, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not crying because of you. It’s because I dropped a stitch, and I never drop stitches, even when I was angry-knitting that sweater for you.”

  He leaned against the doorframe, a small smile occupying his exquisitely handsome face. “Angry knitting. Is that a thing?”

  “It is when you’re involved.” She turned away from him and returned to her post on the sofa, tugging the comforter over her lap. “Come in and shut the door before Mrs. Abernathy comes up here to see what’s going on.”

  He closed the door and went to the kitchen. “Where do you keep vases?”

  “Under the sink.”

  While he saw to putting the flowers in water, she scooped up another mouthful of ice cream, needing all the fortification she could get to deal with him. The roses had been a nice touch. She had to give him that. And they probably hadn’t been easy to find this time of night in their remote corner of Vermont.

  He joined her on the couch, curling one leg under him so he could face her. “I’m sorry I left the way I did. I shouldn’t have done that, and about two seconds after I did it, I regretted it.”

  Ella repeatedly dug her spoon into the pint, refusing to look at him or to acknowledge
his sincere apology. That was when she realized she was well and truly angry with him for the first time. In the past, she’d been frustrated and despondent. Now she was just pissed.

  “Ella.”

  She continued to take out her anger on the ice cream. Poor Cherry Garcia. Then Gavin was taking the pint from her and putting it on the table. With his fingers on her chin, he compelled her to look at him. “I’m sorry I left.”

  “Why did you?”

  He looked away for a second before bringing his gaze back to her. “I saw that guy, and I saw red. I was afraid I’d make a scene if I stayed, that I’d embarrass you and your family by getting into it with him again.”

  “So you embarrassed me by walking away from me while we were dancing, leaving me there alone with everyone looking at me?”

  Wincing, he said, “Not my finest moment. I’m so sorry, Ella. I just had to get out of there before I did something stupid.”

  She turned her face away from him, forcing him to remove his hand, and then gathered the comforter in closer, fortifying herself against the powerful attraction she felt for him, even when she was angry. “Landon fired him.”

  “What?”

  “Landon fired Ed. He doesn’t work for us anymore.”

  “Simple as that?”

  “Yes, Gavin, as simple as that. None of us like what he said to you, and we don’t want someone like that working for our company.”

  “Wow,” he said, sagging into the back of the sofa. “That’s pretty awesome.”

  “It took about five minutes after you left to get rid of him. If maybe you’d given me the chance to address it, I could’ve saved you the trouble of leaving.”

  “It didn’t occur to me that you all would do that.”

  “Why did it not occur to you, Gavin? Caleb was an Abbott as much as he was a Guthrie. Didn’t you think we’d be as outraged as you were by what Ed said? This fight is not yours alone. It belongs to everyone who loved Caleb and everyone who lost someone in Iraq. We are as offended by him as you are.”

  “I . . .” He blinked several times in rapid succession. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath, seeming to fight with his emotions. “For being outraged, for getting rid of him, for letting me in here tonight when I hardly deserve to be here. For everything, Ella.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing.”

  He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, running them back and forth over her knuckles. “Yes, I really do. Even though Hannah and my parents have been on this journey with me from the beginning, I’ve felt alone with it for so long. To know I’m not anymore is . . . Well, it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

  As always, his touch rendered her powerless to resist him. “You’re not alone anymore. Unless you want to be.”

  “I don’t want to be. I want you. I want us. I want it all.”

  “You have no idea what you do to me when you say those things.”

  “What do I do? Tell me. I want to know.”

  “You make me feel hopeful and giddy and excited and . . .”

  He leaned in closer, so close his lips were only a few inches from hers. “And what?”

  “You know.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Ella’s body heated from the inside, making all her most important parts tingle with awareness of him. “Turned on.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded.

  He tugged on the comforter and tossed it aside. “Have I ever told you how hot you are in flannel?”

  Ella laughed, her heart beating in rapid time as he looked at her in a way that left no room for interpretation as to what he wanted from her. “Sure I am.”

  “You’re the hottest babe in flannel I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “You should get out more.”

  “I’ve gotten out plenty. I know what I’m talking about.” He ran his hands over her legs, exploring every part of her that was covered in the flannel he liked so much. “And you were smoking hot in that skirt and those heels tonight. When I walked into the Grange and saw you on that stage, I almost started to drool.”

  “You had me with the roses. Just so you know.”

  His hands landed on her ass and tugged her toward him, arranging them so he was above her, between her legs, looking down at her. “So the drool wasn’t necessary?”

  “It was a nice touch but not critical to your recovery.”

  “I love you, Ella.”

  She gasped, feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut by three little words that packed a huge wallop. “You . . . you . . .”

  “Love you.” He kissed her, softly, sweetly, devastatingly.

  CHAPTER 19

  Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.

  —Christopher Reeve

  “Please don’t say that because you think I’m mad—”

  She never got to finish that thought because he was too busy kissing her with deep, penetrating strokes of his tongue.

  He kissed her until she was weak beneath him, until all the fight had gone out of her, until she couldn’t resist him, as if she ever could. “I would never say something I’ve never said to any other woman only to get out of trouble.”

  “You’ve never said that to anyone?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about Dalia?”

  With his eyes open and fixed on hers, he shook his head and then kissed her again. “I was saving it for you.”

  “Gavin,” she said with a sigh. “Please don’t walk away from me again.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “I love you, too. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you.” Ella would never forget the way he looked at her as he kissed her again and again and again.

  They began to pull at clothes, equally frantic in their efforts to bare each other.

  The flannel pajama pants he’d admired ended up tangled around her ankles. His jeans were pushed down only far enough to free his cock, her T-shirt up only high enough to reveal her breasts.

  This was madness, she thought. Utter madness. And love. Gavin Guthrie loved her. In light of that amazing revelation, all the pain and agony of the last few months fell away into the nothingness of the past. What did it matter now that they had this, now that they had each other? He plunged into her, his fingers digging into her shoulder and hip as he held her in place for his fierce possession.

  “God, Ella . . . You feel so good. So hot and tight.” He swooped down on her mouth, his tongue mimicking the strokes of his cock as his chest hair abraded her nipples.

  It was too much. It was not enough. It was everything she’d always known it would be but so much more, too. He’d never been like this before, unleashed and unrestrained, and she loved it. She loved him. How freeing it was to be able to admit that to herself and him, too.

  He broke the kiss and shifted his focus to her nipple, sucking and tugging and licking while she held on tight to his hair, as if she could control the uncontrollable.

  “Ahh, Ella. Ella, Ella, Ella . . . I love you so much.”

  His words triggered the release that had been building from the moment he brushed his lips over her knuckles. She came so hard she saw stars.

  “Oh Christ . . . Ella . . .” Groaning loudly, he rode her orgasm into his own, surging into her repeatedly until he dropped, spent, on top of her. “Wow.”

  “Mmm, wow indeed.” She ran her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, loving everything about him, even when he was sweaty. That thought made her giggle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking that I even love your sweat.”

  “That’s sexy, babe.”

  “It is. I love that I made you sweaty.”

  “You make me very sweaty, among other things.” He ran
his hand over her hip, up to her ribs, stopping to cup her breast. “Are we going to be okay, Ella? Are we going to be able to make this work?”

  “As long as you stay with me rather than running away when things get hard.”

  “I will. I’m here to stay.”

  “Then we’re going to be just fine.”

  * * *

  They slept in the next morning and stopped at Megan’s diner for breakfast before heading to their afternoon shift at the Christmas tree farm. As they got out of Gavin’s truck, Landon walked over to greet them. He wore his usual seasonal uniform of heavy coveralls, a skullcap and leather gloves. His face was red and ruddy from the hours spent outside in the cold. He shook hands with Gavin.

  “Thanks a lot for coming to help,” Landon said.

  “My pleasure.”

  “I’m not sure we can afford a professional tree cutter of your caliber,” Landon said with a teasing smile.

  “I’ll give you the friends and family rate.” Gavin paused before he added, “Thanks for what you did last night, Landon. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

  “You didn’t,” Landon said, his amiable expression hardening. “He did, and we don’t want his kind around here. Personally, I can’t believe anyone in this town would say such a thing to you, knowing who you lost over there.”

  “Means a lot to me. Thanks again.”

  Ella rested her hand on Gavin’s back, offering her support.

  He smiled at her and put his arm around her. “Is this where we go our separate ways?”

  “Yep,” she said. “I’ll be over there.” Ella pointed to the shack where her mother and Aunt Hannah were doling out hot chocolate, cider and donuts to families who’d come to tag their Christmas trees. By next weekend, they’d be returning to cut them down and take them home.

  “Come on, Gavin,” Landon said. “I’ve got a whole bunch of cutting for you to do.” In addition to the tag-and-cut program, the Stillman Family Christmas Tree Farm supplied trees to retailers all over the state and the rest of New England.