by Ann Yost
“I see you’re wearing the Christmas scarf. You look good in pink.”
He let out a mock sigh.
“When you’re the father of a small female, you find pink invading every aspect of your life. This is no worse than smelling like strawberries because there was only one shampoo in the bathroom.”
She giggled, and, before she’d realized what was happening, he’d scooped up her hand and slipped it through the crook of his arm. He hugged it close to his big body.
“I need you to help me balance,” he explained.
Hallie laughed. “You don’t have to convince me.
I’ve seen you skate before.” They pushed through the half-melted ice. “It’s slow-going today.”
“Real slow,” Jake agreed. She knew he was referring to the progress of their relationship. Her heart squeezed. She’d have to disappoint him, and he didn’t deserve it.
“You’re pretty good out here,” he said, discreetly changing the subject. “I’m guessing you learned to skate as a child.” She nodded. “Tell me something else about your childhood.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t her favorite topic. “It wasn’t too exciting. My father died when I was young. My mother, who was a corporate executive, was transferred a lot. I lived all over the country.”
“Were you and your mother close?”
“Probably about as close as any parent with a rebellious teenage daughter.” Hallie didn’t tell him that Art and Felicia Scott had adopted her or that, after Art’s early death, Felicia realized she didn’t really want the responsibility of a child after all.
“Mom died while I was in veterinary school in California.” It felt odd to call Felicia “mom,” but it would raise questions to call her anything else.
Jake digested the information. “The holidays must be rough for you with no family.”
“The Outlaws have always made me feel a part of theirs.”
Before he could reply, a harsh shout shook the air like a sonic boom. “Halliday!”
Hallie’s heart pounded against her ribs.
The speaker looked neither to the left nor the right. Skaters scurried out of his way like dried leaves as he made a beeline across the ice. His eyes resembled the winter sky. They were cold and accusing.
Hallie was aware of Jake’s hand on her back and she was grateful for the implied protection but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She spread her feet and braced herself. He stopped only inches from her still form.
“What’s this all about?” She forced herself to remain calm, reasonable. “You’re not even wearing skates.”
His eyes glittered and his jaw worked. Before he could speak, Hallie heard an ominous crack. She swung her head around to see flailing arms and a frantic expression on Richie Ward’s pudgy face.
Lilly’s screech filled the air.
“Daddy! Daddy! Richie’s falling in! He’s going to drown!”
As the child slipped through the ice in slow motion, everyone froze. Everyone except Baz. He charged toward the child. Hallie’s throat constricted when his weight cracked more of the ice, and both man and child disappeared into the frigid black water.
Hallie heard an anguished cry and realized, with a shock, it had come from her. Baz’s head surfaced, dark and sleek as a seal. She started toward him.
“Don’t go any closer! You’ll break the ice,” a voice warned. “Lie down and feed this rope to him.”
Good grief. She hadn’t been thinking. She flattened herself and scooted to within a few feet of the hole. She forced herself not to think about the freezing water or the precious seconds ticking away.
There was a loop in the rope, and she fed that to Baz.
For the first time, she realized he was holding Richie and that the terrified child was struggling against his chest.
How long could the man tread water before his legs went numb? How long before the icy current
sucked both of them under the black surface?
“Please,” she whimpered as she watched the man try to loop the lasso over the little boy’s head.
Richie sobbed and wriggled.
“Richie,” Hallie called out. “Just hold still and let Dr. Baz tie the rope. We’ll pull you to safety.”
“I’m scared, Dr. Hallie. I want my mom.”
Just them Fern shrieked from the other side of the rink where she’d been chatting with a hockey player.
“I want to get out,” Richie wailed.
“Hold still, baby. Remember the bullfrog?”
Richie stilled. “You mean Otis?”
“Right. Otis.” Baz had gotten the loop over the boy’s head and was securing it around his chest, under his arms. “You need to get back to your natural habitat, just like Otis.”
“I’m cold,” Richie howled.
“You’ll be fine. Just hold still.”
“Pull,” Baz shouted.
Hallie heard the ambulance in the distance. She hoped Chester Appleton was driving tonight and not Edna Mae, his wife. Chester was nearing seventy, but he was still reliable and strong for his age.
It would take a lot of muscle to get Baz’s big body into the ambulance if, for some reason, he was unconscious. Her heartbeat seemed to stop.
Cam and Jake and Fern’s friend pulled the rope carefully and pulled the little boy away from the rupture in the ice. Then Jake snagged the child’s jacket and lifted him to safety.
Hallie was aware of all that, but her eyes never shifted from the break in the ice. Baz’s face was pale under the wet, dark hair. His lips looked purple. He weighed three times as much as Richie, more since he was soaking wet. Could the men pull him out?
Was there time? His legs were probably numb.
“Hang on,” she called to him. The gray eyes fixed
on her, but she knew he wasn’t registering. All his senses were focused on staying alive.
Cam threw the looped rope back to him. His fingers worked, clumsily. Hallie heard someone praying, pleading with him to hurry, and she realized the words were coming from her. Finally, the loop was around his broad chest.
“Pull,” she yelled.
The second rescue wasn’t nearly as smooth as the first. The first time Baz’s two hundred-pound body came up onto the ice, the darn stuff cracked again. Hallie knew she was sobbing, but she didn’t realize she was moving toward Baz until she heard Jake’s warning. “Hallie, get back. You’re compromising the ice.”
Another ominous crack.
Oh God.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The gray eyes were glazed now. Did that mean he had hypothermia? How long could a man stay alive in those freezing waters? “Please hang on,” she muttered.
Two more men joined the tug of war. Someone suggested sitting on the ice to narrow the angle, which would reduce the strain on the rope. Hallie was ready to jump out of her skin. She knew they were trying to ensure a quick, safe recovery, but it was taking so long. Baz tried to hoist himself up onto the surface of the ice. Hallie heard another horrifying crack. She whimpered.
“Stay still,” Jake shouted. “Let us drag you.”
Apparently the command in the sheriff’s voice reached him. Baz did as he was told. She wished she could enjoy seeing him obey someone else’s orders.
She prayed she’d get a chance to see the familiar arrogance. What if he died? This was so much worse than the break up. She couldn’t bear to see him leave this world.
Finally, Baz’s big body was hauled onto secure ice. He was wearing a shearling jacket, probably not his, and he looked like a big beached sheep. A wet, beautiful, beached sheep. She held back tears as the rescuers tugged him along until he got to the edge of the river where the ice was stronger. Dozens of hands reached down to pull him up onto the snow-covered grass.
“That’s Jesse Outlaw’s oldest son,” someone said. “He moved like Batman to rescue the boy.
Faster than a speeding bullet.”
“That’s Superman,” someone argued. “He was like a Navy Seal.”
Chester pulled up next to the river. Baz insisted on getting to his feet. Cam put his shoulder under one of Baz’s arms while Jake took the other side.
“Let’s get you in the ambulance,” Cam said.
“Don’t need it,” Baz growled. It was hard to understand him. His teeth chattered like castanets.
“Your lips are blue,” Chester pointed out. “You got hypothermia.” He sounded tentative. Hallie didn’t think the ambulance driver/paramedic would force the issue, and she couldn’t blame him. Even soaking wet and half frozen, Baz was intimidating.
“T-take the b-boy,” Baz told Chester. He stuttered like Elmer Fudd. “Hallie can d-drive me home.”
“No way,” she put in. “Chester’s right. You need to go to the hospital.”
“Drive me h-home,” he repeated. She gazed at him. Be careful what you ask for. She looked to Cam for help, but the other Outlaw son just shrugged. She was on her own. She realized, suddenly, that’s where she wanted to be. She wanted to take care of Eden’s newest hero. She dug into the pocket of her white parka and found her keys. Chester wrapped Baz in a blanket while she retrieved the Jeep.
“Pretend he’s an injured squirrel,” Cam muttered to Hallie. “I’ll take care of Daisy.” She flinched. She’d completely forgotten about the little girl.
“You, okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but it was a lie. She couldn’t feel her face or her legs. Her heart seemed to be in a cage.
She felt someone tugging on her feet, and she looked down. Jake. He was untying her skates.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
He pulled them off. “Anytime.”
She drove back in her stocking feet.
“Aren’t your feet freezing?”
She could barely understand the gruff words.
She didn’t answer. She was trying to figure out the fastest way of raising Baz’s core temperature.
Hot tea? A bath? Damn. She should have asked Chester.
She pulled onto Walnut Street.
“What’s the m-matter?” Baz clacked.
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re not thinking,” he chattered. “You’re crying.”
She touched her face. He was right.
“I’m okay, Hallie.”
He was already minimizing his part in the rescue and her very understandable reaction to it.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
She didn’t argue with him. She didn’t tell him it would have been a very big deal to her if he’d been swept under the ice.
“It’s a big deal. You rescued Richie.”
“If I hadn’t, someone else would have.”
“No one else moved fast enough. You’re a hero.”
“Shit.”
She thought she understood. He’d spent so many years as an island it had been a shock to reconnect with family. He wasn’t ready for the town to regard him as a hero.
She pulled up into the yard behind the back door. She helped him out of the car and clasped her arm around his waist. He might be weak and frozen, but his body was still hard and flat and so masculine.
As soon as they got into the mudroom, she stopped and pressed herself against the length of him. His arms came around her.
“It’s all right, h-honey,” he stuttered. “I’m all right. The boy’s all right.”
She buried his face in the opening of his sodden jacket.
“Hallie? Can you help me get out of these clothes?”
Oh God. She was an idiot. She stepped back and began to peel the heavy material off his shoulders. It took forever to work his sweater up over his head.
They didn’t talk. Only the chattering of his teeth filled the silence. Finally, he leaned against the dryer, exhausted, his wide, hair-sprinkled chest clammy and white.
Her gaze dropped to his boots. The laces were frozen.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how to untie your boots.”
“Get a knife.”
She hurried over to Asia’s wooden knife block and selected a cleaver that could have brought down an oak.
“Maybe something a little less lethal,” Baz said.
Good grief. Where was her head? She found a steak knife. Its sharp blade slid easily through the stiff cords.
Baz got his belt undone and his pants unzipped, but he couldn’t manage to peel off the soaked denim.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No problem.” She couldn’t help the rush of heat that hit her as she tugged the water-soaked jeans down his muscular legs. His briefs came with them.
She had to tell herself not to stare. This was an emergency not a sexual romp.
“Let’s get you upstairs and into the shower,” she said, briskly.
“Take your clothes off.”
She halted. “What?”
“You’re wet and freezing, Hallie. Strip.”
He didn’t add that she’d drip water all through the Outlaw home, but it was true. That would be unfair to Jesse and Asia and everyone else. Besides, he was in no condition to take advantage of her nudity.
She opened the door to the kitchen and led him up the back stairs.
“Jacuzzi,” he mumbled.
“Good thinking.”
The Jacuzzi was in Jesse’s bathroom. She knew because of last summer’s renovations. She and Cam and Lucy had had to talk the older man into buying the fancy bathtub.
She helped him down the steps then turned on the jets after making sure the temperature setting was lowered to warm. She didn’t want to send his system into shock by bombarding his cold body with hot water. She tested the water with her fingers.
“How does that feel?”
He didn’t answer, so she looked at him. His face was so pale it was almost green, but the stone-colored eyes glittered as they swept her unclothed body.
“Get in with me.”
Chapter Five
She couldn’t believe how badly she wanted to join him in the hot tub. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Get in, Halliday.”
It was a mistake. The only excuse for getting into that tub would have been full-blown hypothermia, and she wasn’t even close. She was shaking, but it was half residual fear and half excitement. She wanted to be next to him, touching him, surrounding him. She wanted to assure herself that he was alive. She gazed into his pale, rugged face and knew her feelings hadn’t changed during the last twelve difficult months. She was still in love with Baz Outlaw.
“Get in, Hallie.”
She got in.
A few minutes later, despite the heated water lapping and bubbling around them Baz was still shivering. She held the back of her hand against his cheek. “You’re still too cold. I think we should go to the hospital.”
“You can warm me up.”
She tried. She soaked a washcloth and smoothed it over his face, neck, and chest. He was so muscular, so hard. And still shaking. He grabbed her wrist, and she dropped the washcloth.
“Use your hands.”
Hallie’s eyes narrowed.
“This better not be some lame attempt to get me into bed.”
“It’s the most efficient way to warm me up,” he said. “We both know you can get me hot faster than anything else.”
She considered pointing out that they’d only made love once. They didn’t know much at all about their mutual chemistry. Except that it was explosive.
She couldn’t argue with that.
He didn’t stir as she stroked his chest and rubbed his arms and legs trying to jump start his circulation. He just watched her. After a few minutes, she thought she’d made some progress but not enough.
“Use your mouth,” he said. His throat sounded dry.
“My mouth?”
“On my body.”
She had to sit on his lap to get close enough. It felt kind of awkwa
rd but definitely warm. She leaned in to press her lips against his neck, under his ear.
“Like that.”
“This is good?”
“Mmmm.”
Mmmm.
It was the sound he’d made repeatedly that night by the light of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It was a sound of pure masculine need. She moved her mouth to his.
“Good,” he said, finally, breaking the contact.
“Go lower.”
She looked down his powerful torso. Where to start? There were so many enticing possibilities.
“Nipples,” he directed. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. She was relieved to see that the shakes were calming down. His skin color was pinking up, too. She climbed onto his lap and used her tongue to flick one of his flat, copper-colored nipples. His chest hair got into her nose and she sneezed.
“Bless you.”
She laughed and shifted on his lap.
“Mmmmm.” His fingers touched her sides, her back, the bumps on her spine. Strong fingers threaded themselves through her wet curls. He pulled her against him, her cheek flattened on his chest. She tensed as she felt his erection, thick and hard coming alive under her buttocks.
“That’s a good sign,” she murmured, swallowing hard.
“A very good sign. But not at all unexpected. You’ll be able to make me hard when I’m dead, Hallie.”
A shudder ran through her body; his eyes held hers. Then he leaned against the tub surround. “I want you, baby,” he said.
His blood was no longer cold. It was boiling hot, and it was all in one place. It was like the corpuscles had decided to hold a meeting in his groin.
He fought to control the urge to take the choice away from her, to lower her on top of him, to fill her and pound into her until the veins popped out on his forehead. He had to remind himself this wasn’t a one-night stand. He wanted her for keeps. He was playing for deep stakes.
He had to be careful.
But she was warmth, and he’d been cold so long.
He felt as if he’d spent the last twelve months in the icy Eden River.
“Hallie.” Her name came out on a groan. She didn’t answer him in words. Instead she held his gaze and worked her hand down his body.
She closed her fingers around him and squeezed, gently. He moaned.