Can't Fight This Feeling (Cabin Fever)

by Christie Ridgway

  Every night, she’d held out hope he’d share more of himself. A couple of times she’d brought up Lorraine Kushi, thinking he might reveal what had gone on with her...and then what had gone wrong. But instead he’d taken her to bed to terminate the questioning.

  He wasn’t opening up to her.

  Common sense reared its head each morning when she started her car and her vehicle’s engine protested the cold. By the first heavy rain, she’d need another way to get around. Without more hours or another job, replacing her convertible was an impossibility. Just yesterday, her lawyer had said her funds were still lost to her.

  Maybe if she could believe in a future with Brett, she could find a way to stay in Blue Arrow, but that wasn’t the case.

  So her life would have to restart down the hill. Soon.

  She carried the flattened cardboard out the rear exit and stacked it in the recycle bin. Back inside the shop, she saw that Glory was on the phone. A supplier, probably, because she wore that pained expression that came with an order mix-up. Gesturing Angelica over, her friend passed her cash and a note. The last read “Coffee! Please!”

  Figuring she could use a midafternoon pickup herself, Angelica headed out to the village center. The air smelled like the lake and the breeze held a distinct chill. She’d borrowed Glory’s heavy sweatshirt on her way out the door and she zipped it now, even going so far as to pull up the hood to cover her hair.

  She nodded to a couple of acquaintances and staved off a growing melancholy by pausing to admire the florist’s front window. The only practical solution was to leave Blue Arrow and the mountains. Even if she managed some way to make staying financially feasible, it would hurt too much to be here once Brett moved on.

  Because he would move on...right?

  Biting her bottom lip, she stared at a cornucopia-shaped basket filled with mums and roses, seeing none of it. Instead, she remember the night before—the crackling fire, being stretched out on the couch with Brett over her, his big body kindling more flames.

  He bent his head to kiss her neck, her mouth, her temple. “Give it to me,” he’d whispered.

  “What?”

  “That little noise you make in the back of your throat when you get wet.”

  “Brett!”

  “Or are you wet already?”

  She’d glanced away, embarrassed.

  “Such an easy girl,” he’d teased. “So easy for me.” His hand had slid down her twitching belly and into her jeans. He’d teased her over her panties until she squirmed. “So easy,” he’d murmured again.

  So easy to love was what she’d longed to hear.

  Shaking off the memory, she started up the sidewalk again. Be a realist, she reminded herself.

  A man came out of the shop ahead and she realized it was Jace Jennings. He stopped short upon seeing her. “You’re the answer to a prayer!” he said, looking relieved.

  “Um...happy to be?”

  “I’m not kidding,” he said, taking her arm and dragging her back into the store he’d just exited. It was one of her favorites—a boutique stocked with unique women’s clothing in California surfer/mountain style, as well as a selection of boots and shoes. “I need something,” he said, with a vague wave at the shelves and racks.

  “Okay.” Her lips twitched and she pretended to look him over. “What’s your size?”

  He blinked, then grinned. “Funny. It’s for London.”

  “Shay—”

  “Informed me I had to pick out the gift myself. I’m new to this dad thing and she believes I need to practice.”

  “So isn’t appealing to me kind of...cheating?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “But nobody has to know about that but you and me.”

  He was irresistible, she decided. Handsome and all-guy, but so anxious to select something just right for his daughter. They settled on a multicolored sweater with a vaguely Tibetan air to it as well as a pair of boots that had a matching woolen design woven into the brown leather.

  His kiss to her cheek was exuberant as they parted ways. “You’ll keep my secret?”

  “Of course,” she said, grinning.

  He tapped her on the nose. “I hope Brett knows what a jewel he has.”

  She thought she should protest. He doesn’t have me! We don’t have each other! But instead she held close the warmth of Jace’s regard. She didn’t realize she and Brett had even revealed their attraction that night at Poppy and Ryan’s, but apparently the family had guessed.

  Or they could read Brett better than she and thought he was truly into her.

  Her heart gave a little skip.

  Maybe he was truly into her. Maybe...

  Reaching Oscar’s, she swung open the door. There was a line at the counter, as usual. People crowded the tables inside, and there was even a man and woman seated at one of the bistro sets on the patio.

  She glanced at them, then her gaze swiveled back. The couple was none other than TV reporter Lorraine Kushi and Angelica’s own man-next-door, Brett Walker. If body language could be believed, he was pissed. His arms were crossed over his chest. Lorraine leaned forward as Angelica watched, putting a placating hand on his shirtsleeve.

  He shifted away from it.

  “Can I help you?”

  Angelica started, realizing her turn was up. She quickly gave her order, then shuffled to the side to wait for the drinks. After a moment’s resistance, she peeked around the side of her hood to take in the drama on the patio.

  Though she wasn’t trying to touch Brett again, Lorraine had scooted her chair closer to his. His expression had gone from angry to frozen and the look in his icy eyes made Angelica shiver a little.

  When her drinks were up, she tore her gaze away and retrieved the two cups. Then she hesitated. Out the front door was the right thing to do. But there was another exit, at the side, that would take her to the alley behind the patio. She’d be hidden by the arbor at the back.

  But she might be able to hear something.

  Would a jury of her lovelorn peers find her eavesdropping unsympathetic? What if it was because she wanted to better understand the man she cared for...and who had been so kind to her? Her war with herself lasted two seconds. Then she was out the side door and just a couple of feet away from the pair.

  Lorraine’s voice was low. “I know it was unforgivable of me—”

  “Then why are you asking for forgiveness?”

  “I’m aware I hurt you—”

  “The memory of it greets me every morning, babe.”

  Angelica blinked, surprised his pride didn’t dictate a denial. Mac had said the other woman broke his heart, and now she had confirmation from the horse’s mouth. Her chest hurt as the knowledge settled there, as chilling as the autumn breeze.

  “Please,” Lorraine tried again. “Brett—”

  “It greets me every morning...and I prize the lesson.” The scrape of chair legs accompanied the angry words.

  “Don’t leave,” Lorraine begged.

  “I’m out.” Heavy footsteps receded in the distance.

  Angelica hesitated half a second this time. Then she scurried down the alley, in the same direction as the man who’d slept with his arms around her the night before. She wanted to... She needed to...

  It seemed imperative for her to get a clearer understanding of his mood. Maybe she was overreacting to the overheard conversation. Everybody knew eavesdropping could lead to misconstrued clues.

  She didn’t want to believe he’d once cared so much for someone else, especially when he couldn’t have that same depth of feeling for her.

  Popping onto the village’s main street, she saw he was half a block ahead of her. Again channeling her inner private investigator, she followed at a discreet distance. Once she thought he felt her presence, because he paused. She slowed her steps, but then he rubbed the back of his neck and kept on going.

  At the next corner, he turned right. When she reached it, she hesitated.


  Fingers pinched the thick fabric of her sweatshirt and yanked her onto the narrow side street. Brett stared down at her, his face still set in grim lines. “What are you up to?”

  “Coffee,” she said, holding up the cups. “For me and Glory.”

  “The hardware store’s in the opposite direction.”

  “Oh.” She tried on an innocent expression as she glanced about. “You’re right. I got turned around.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  True. She took a breath, trying to come up with a better one, then shrugged. “I saw you stomp away from Oscar’s, and I was...worried about you.”

  He leaned one strong shoulder against the building behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Worried.”

  He was in his surly mood from the summer. “I just... I don’t know—”

  “Spill it, angel face.”

  “I saw you with Lorraine Kushi.” The words tumbled out.

  He could start a second career as an interrogator. When he merely continued staring, she wanted to spill every secret.

  Last summer, I used to think of you at night in my bed and touch myself.

  I once wrote “Angelica Walker” in the condensation on my shower door.

  I’m in love with you.

  What came out was the L word, all right, but turned on its head. “You loved her, didn’t you?” she said.

  Brett’s expression froze over. “What does this have to do with you?”

  Nothing. Everything. She sucked in a breath. “I...I just want to help. You’ve been my friend—”

  “Oh, fucking stop the friend stuff.” He grabbed a hold of her sweatshirt at the throat and yanked her to her toes. “I’ve sucked your nipples and bitten your neck. You’ve taken my cock in your pussy and in your mouth. None of that happened because we’re friends.” He released her and she fell back to her heels.

  Her face was hot. She cleared her throat. “Well, that was frank.”

  “You want frank? Here’s frank. Lorraine Kushi is a snake. We had a thing...years ago when I got back from Afghanistan and was almost immediately sent to Florida for a hurricane relief effort. I wanted a woman and she wanted access. Fair enough, I suppose, until she dumped me for a superior officer with superior access.” He ran a finger over his scars.

  “Um—”

  “I got the breakup text while I was waiting to show her into a restricted area full of damaged homes for her latest story. While I was standing there gnashing my teeth, I heard something from inside one of the houses. Without thinking—because that was how I’d been operating of late—I went inside. In moments, the place fell down around me.” He pointed to his face. “Cuts here, broken bones elsewhere. I was alone for the next twelve hours, trapped in the dark.”

  “Oh, Brett.”

  “Don’t. Don’t pity me about that. Because here’s the frankest of the frank, princess. I’m glad I had that time to think...to see things clearly. It was just long enough for me to realize I can be an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot,” she protested.

  “Oh, I am,” he said. “I have lousy judgment when it comes to women.”

  Angelica reared back.

  It gave Brett the space he needed to stride off.

  I have lousy judgment when it comes to women.

  Stinging from the verbal slap, she watched him go. Okay, she thought, blowing out a breath.

  Answers given. Situation clarified. She’d wanted real...and that’s just what she’d received.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  GLORY’S HEAD SWUNG around at the jingle of the bells on the door. Brett Walker stood at the front of the store, his wide shoulders tense and his expression carved from granite. A plastic bag dangled from one of his fists.

  Uh-oh.

  Angelica had returned from her trip for coffee thirty minutes before, her usual glow gone. Glory had sent her to the storeroom to handle paperwork because her sad face would have upset the customers—she was that much a favorite.

  Smiling as if she couldn’t sense his mood, she approached. “Hey, there! How are you?”

  “Where is she?”

  Oh, yeah. Here was the source of her friend’s low state. Angelica had hinted that things between her and Brett had become...friendly, and here was evidence that all wasn’t so warm now.

  “Glory, where is she?” he repeated.

  “Hi, Glory,” she said in overly cheery tones. “I’m peachy. Yourself?”

  “I need to talk to Angelica.”

  He’d completely missed the point. “No social niceties?”

  “I’m not feeling very nice at the moment.”

  If he’d already bitten off Angelica’s head, and now thought to take another piece of her, he had another think coming. “Then why don’t you toddle out to the deli and pick up a soda or something? Maybe it will sweeten you up.”

  Instead of answering, he raised his voice. “Angelica!” With long strides, he ate up the linoleum floor in the direction of the back room. “Angelica!”

  At a run, Glory managed to get herself in front of Brett. Cutting him off, she put her hand on his chest to halt his forward movement. He glanced down at her fingers. “What the hell? What’s gotten into you, Glory?”

  Panic. Fear. An unreasonable—maybe—concern about the state of her pal’s heart. It was projection, possibly. Probably. Yes.

  But she and Angelica were connected, sisters of the soul, and it suddenly seemed important to save her friend from heartache. That way, she could have hope she’d avoid her own.

  “Angelica’s not here,” she said.

  He plucked her palm away. “You’re as bad a liar as she is. Her car’s in the parking lot.”

  “I sent her out...to...to...” Before she could drum up a bullshit errand, Angelica emerged from the back room carrying a clipboard. She glanced over, hesitated for a second when she saw Brett, then she continued on to the stock ladder currently set up in the aisle of cleaning supplies. As if the man had ceased to exist for her, Angelica climbed up and began ticking off items with a pen.

  Good for you, Glory silently cheered.

  Then she took a peek at Brett’s face. Oh, she thought. Oh. The hard expression on his face had softened. He was staring at Angelica, his free hand flexing as if preparing to snatch her off the ladder and throw her over his shoulder.

  He was a caveman itching to claim his woman.

  But there was hesitance there, too, as if he feared he’d break something important by making a wrong move.

  Having observed Brett and his casual, serial dating ways for years, she could see his feelings for Angelica were different. The phrase highly engaged came to mind. But the spine of his object of attention was ramrod straight, and her head was bent over the clipboard, the fall of her wavy hair masking her face. She appeared completed absorbed by her work and as if she was alone in the room.

  In the world.

  Blinking against the hot pressure behind her eyes, Glory rubbed her aching chest. Suddenly, she was struck by it all: Angelica’s fundamental loneliness; the naked want on Brett’s face and the way he seemed unable to move toward her; Glory’s own uncertainty about reaching for the only man in years who made her excited about life.

  Brett took a step forward, the sound of sole to floor as loud as a shot.

  Angelica flinched, proving she was not so immune to his presence.

  He hesitated again, and Glory finally was spurred to action. She gave a solid shove to Brett’s back.

  He glanced over his shoulder, as surprised by her romantic whim as she was. In for a penny... Glory thought, and shooed him toward her friend.

  Brett took a step and then another and another, until he was standing at the base of the stepladder. “Climb down,” he said.

  Glory winced. Really, Brett, really? This was no time for gruff orders. To prove her right, Angelica didn’t even flick him a glance.

  “No,” she said.

  “How else can I apologize for being a big dick?”
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  “I can hear you just fine from here.”

  Ooh, Glory thought with admiration. Nice royal coat of frost, there.

  “I’m sorry for being a big dick.”

  “Mmm.” Her pen made another tick on the paper.

  Brett stared up at the ceiling, blew out a breath, then took in another, the picture of a man seeking patience. “Are you going to come down the ladder now? Look at me?”

  “Why?”

  “I brought you a present.” He held up the bag.

  She glanced at him now, suspicious. “What is it?”

  From the plastic, he drew out a package of hot dogs. “Franks. To throw at my head.”

  It might get a huh? from Glory, but at the sight of them Angelica’s lips twitched. Then she was smiling, the bright one that had won the heart of every male that came looking for tape measures or tool boxes. “You think you’re funny,” she said, clearly trying to turn her mouth down in a frown.

  “I think I’m groveling.” Brett looked astonished at his own admission.

  It surprised the hell out of Glory, too, because Brett Walker wasn’t a humble kind of man.

  His voice softened and he ran his hand over Angelica’s calf, clad in dark indigo skinny jeans. “I snapped at you, angel face. That was wrong of me.”

  Glory didn’t think her friend could hold out for another minute, not when the big, handsome mountain man was speaking in such gentle tones. And when she was right, when Angelica started down the ladder and Brett pulled her free of it, Glory’s eyes stung again.

  Franks, pen, clipboard fell to the floor as Brett slid Angelica down his tall body until her toes touched the floor. He held her close, one arm banded around her waist, the other sifting through her hair. His mouth close to her ear, he whispered something that had her pushing her forehead into the hollow of his shoulder.

  Glory couldn’t look away.

  But she did, finally, when their mouths met. She busied herself behind the register, sorting through the detritus that gathered in the space beneath the cash drawer. A few minutes passed, then the bells over the door rang out again, and she saw Brett’s back as he exited.

  Angelica stood by the front window, her hand on the glass, watching him cross the street.