Can't Fight This Feeling (Cabin Fever)

by Christie Ridgway

  She had to grin. “And your brother?”

  Kyle took a bite of the chicken, made an appreciative noise. “So good. The food—not my brother. Once when my parents were gone he locked me out on the upstairs balcony so he didn’t have to let me have a turn at the video game.”

  “I’m guessing you were the youngest.”

  He nodded, but there was enough of a smile showing that she figured it hadn’t all been painful. “Not an enviable position.”

  “Still...” Glory sampled the food and was happy to note it tasted fine to her, too. “As my parents age, I realize it’s going to be up to me alone to take care of them.”

  “Don’t they have a lot of good years left?”

  “Sure.” She waved her fork. “They’re in excellent health and all that. But my dad’s retired and I swear, if he doesn’t find a hobby, my mom might just murder him. Then I’ll have the sole responsibility for visiting her in the clink.”

  “The clink.” He grinned at her.

  The smile made her stomach jitter again. She wanted it beaming her way, morning, noon and night.

  “You know,” he went on. “If you have someone in your life...a man at your side, you won’t be alone. There won’t be such a thing as a ‘sole responsibility.’”

  God, Glory thought. Even the burden of Hallett Hardware could be shared. That notion exploded like a beautiful dream in her head. Technicolor with stereo sound. Clasped hands. Twined bodies. Merged lives.

  Glory + Kyle 4-ever.

  The idea continued to surge inside her, filling empty spaces that had been there for so long. For too long, she’d felt so solitary.

  How weird, that isolation. She lived in a small town where everyone had known her from birth. Each day, people came into her hardware store with greetings and news, and yet she still felt like her own island in the mountains. Maybe because her community was so certain they knew her, from heart to soul. They expected her dream was the life she was living behind the cash register at Hallett’s.

  There won’t be such a thing as a “sole responsibility.”

  Her head came up and her voice was full of wonder. “How do you know to say these things to me?”

  He shrugged, his gaze trained on her face. “I just...talk to you. I told you I was rusty and I am, or was, anyway. I wasn’t out there dating and practicing pickup lines these past few years. But conversation with you...it seems easy.”

  “You made a few mistakes at first,” she reminded him.

  “But you cut me some slack. How come?”

  Because I fell in love with you. I think I fell in love with you at first sight. At least over that first beer. That day you brought me double dill pickles for sure.

  When she stayed silent, he set down his fork and wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin. “Glory... What’s going to happen in January?”

  She blinked. “I put the Christmas lights on sale. Any leftover tree stands I stow away to sell next year.”

  Laughing a little, he reached out to grab her hand. “I wasn’t talking about the store. I was talking about Stu.”

  “Stu?” She stared at their laced fingers, thrilled by Kyle’s touch. Thrilled by the symbolism. The two of them, joined. “There’s not going to be any Stu.”

  Kyle brought their hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “That’s my girl.”

  “Because that’s exactly what I am,” Glory whispered. “Your girl.” The words could no longer be held inside because she was no longer fettered, the bubbling essence of her breaking free. “I’m in love with you.”

  Horror came on the heels of the admission. How could she have spilled that? It was too soon, not safe, stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

  Pulling her hand free of Kyle’s she leaped to her feet. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything.” Panic flooded her bloodstream, icy, like the water of Lake Arthur in autumn.

  “Glory—”

  “I have to...to...” She looked around wildly, her gaze dropping on the package she’d brought home from the hardware store. Racing to it, she called over her shoulder. “Something came in for you today. Angelica said you ordered an address plaque?”

  Walking back, she began tearing at the brown wrapping so she didn’t have to see his face. “We always check them before handing them over to the customer, but this arrived right before closing.”

  “Glory—”

  “Sometimes the company gets the numbers or letters wrong...” Her words trailed away as she stared at the square stone, address and name carved deeply and painted white so it stood out cleanly against the black background.

  “1493 Cedar Summit,” she read aloud. “I know where that is.” One of the fanciest streets in the most exclusive of the mountain enclaves. There was no home there worth less than five million dollars. It wasn’t the address or the likely worth of the place he was working on that gave her pause, that made her feel as if something was about to drop on her from overhead. She went so far as to glance upward. Then she shifted her gaze back to Kyle. “It says ‘Scott’ on this plaque.”

  He stood from his chair. “About that...”

  “Is the house...your house?”

  “No. Well, yes. I bought it, but it’s not my house. I bought it for my parents.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “I meant to tell you before. I meant to tell you long ago.”

  “You bought the house. You bought a house on Cedar Summit for your parents.” A housepainter didn’t do that. Not a handyman, either. She’d told him he could put a flyer on the bulletin board at Hallett’s. Offered to recommend him to potential clients. Said he shouldn’t be buying her dinner, when he’d actually purchased a piece of prime mountain real estate.

  The back of her neck and her face burned. “What is it you really do?”

  “Right now I’m taking some time off. I’m fixing up the house like I said.”

  “Time off from what?”

  He sighed. “I’m in business. Big data. I have a company I run with my old college roommate.”

  Glory had only a vague idea of “big data,” but the way he said it gave her the impression his company was important. “You’re well-off?”

  “I...” He sighed again. “Yes.”

  “You have a life down the hill that you have to get back to.” Her face felt hot, but the muscles beneath felt cold and stiff, like modeling clay. “You’re not staying.”

  “I can’t, Glory. I’ve been a workaholic for the past seven years, and I would like to change that, but the truth is my business, my life, is down the hill.”

  “My business, my life, is up here,” Glory said. “You knew that and yet you still...you still...” There would be no tears! She had more pride than that. She felt trampled on. Flattened. “I think it’s time you go.”

  “Glory. I can’t leave right now. I can’t leave things between us like this.”

  He looked upset, but who knew what to believe when it came to him? A businessman. A rich businessman, who’d toyed with her affections and had a life far away from Hallett Hardware. It was everything she’d always protected herself from. The sting of tears had her turning away from him. “Go. Please.”

  “God, Glory. You just said you loved me.”

  “I didn’t know who the hell you were when I said that.” She crossed to the front door and pulled it open. “Goodbye. Goodbye, stranger.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  BRETT HAD A hangover when he walked into Oscar’s for morning coffee with his brothers-in-law-to-be. The pounding between his ears was all for the best, he decided, because it didn’t leave a lot of room for regrets and self-recrimination.

  The night before, the one Angelica had spent at Shay’s, Brett had devoted to quality time spent with the cold beers in his refrigerator. Until he’d passed out on the couch in front of the TV, he’d told himself and his best girl Stella Artois that his unfeeling remarks to the princess had actually been beneficial.

  Now she knew what kind of bastard he was.

  Now she’d keep he
r distance—finally!—aware he wasn’t good enough for her to kick, let alone kiss. He wasn’t sentimental. Any soft feelings he’d had were hardened by experience...and by the very fact he’d worked to banish them. Like Poppy, Angelica needed someone who would nurture her heart, not someone who would smother it with clumsy words and a lousy temper.

  Who the hell has ever loved you? Shit. He’d actually said that.

  He wasn’t the right man for her, and to prove it, he wasn’t even going to apologize.

  Though the subject hadn’t been tackled directly, he supposed she wasn’t long for these parts anyhow. She’d dropped hints about leaving recently, and as the temperatures continued to drop, he’d always figured her interest in mountain life would, too. From the beginning he’d known she’d be going down the hill sooner than later.

  If he’d pushed her in that direction...well, it had been inevitable anyhow.

  Jace and Ryan were already at their usual corner table. Jace had driven up from LA that morning, but it didn’t look as if the commute had worn him down any. Brett couldn’t see Ryan’s face because he had a ball cap pulled low over his eyes—his habitual effort to camouflage his famous movie-star features. Though this time of year, midweek among the locals, he didn’t draw special attention unless someone acquainted with Poppy wanted the word on the upcoming wedding.

  Once his coffee was in hand, he tossed his coat over the empty chair and dropped onto the seat. According to the TV, an arm’s reach away, the weather was predicted to be warm and sunny by the beaches. Angelica was made for such moderate climes, with her warm-toned skin and bright smile. She’d be happy there.

  “What’s the scowl all about?” Ryan asked. “And by the way, good morning.”

  “Keep your jolly down,” he groused. Then he remembered Angelica calling him out on his negative attitude. Shit. Guilt added a backbeat to his pounding headache. “Sorry. I have a hangover.”

  “You might not be the only Walker feeling the effects this morning,” Jace said. “The call I had from Shay last night was accompanied by the roar of the blender. They were arguing about how much tequila goes into a margarita. By the sound of their voices, I think they decided on ‘a lot.’”

  “Mmm.” Cursing himself, Brett shifted his gaze from his coffee to the other man. “Do you happen to know...was Angelica there?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Jace nodded. “She was singing.”

  Brett winced. “She really shouldn’t.”

  “I have to agree with you there,” Ryan put in. “She was still at it when we called, so Mace could wish his mom good-night. But she’s enthusiastic, I’ll give her that.”

  And apparently she wasn’t broken up over the words they’d traded in the morning. Well, good, he thought. That was just great.

  Jace drew back. “Take it easy, fella. Those bared teeth look lethal.”

  Instead of answering, Brett’s attention turned to the television. Usually the nearby big-city stations didn’t cover much about the mountains except for fire and snowfall, but during a roundup of local news, the burglaries in the Blue Arrow Lake region were mentioned. It made sense when some of the missing items were described. Beyond the usual cash and computers, items once belonging to the recently deceased philanthropist Walter Elliott were gone: a pair of dueling pistols, an antique sets of golf clubs, some Native American artifacts.

  “Your binoculars are safe, right?” a voice asked.

  Brett glanced up to see Vaughn hovering near their table. “My binoculars?” He just remembered that he’d left them at Poppy’s and he would have to retrieve them. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Poppy. I ran into her the other night. She told me she bought the pair and gave them to you. Remember, Ryan?”

  Ryan grunted and drew the free chair at their table closer with his foot. Apparently the volunteer sheriff got on his nerves, too. But Poppy, chatterbox and bubbly with happiness these days, likely told everyone she met all her business and that of everyone else she knew. It was both the plus and the minus of life in the mountains.

  It was the community that he was embedded in, hip-deep. He’d never wanted a life outside it.

  Vaughn wandered off. Ryan rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I can’t take that guy.”

  “It’s the fake badge,” Brett said, then he shoved up from his chair as Lorraine Kushi came onto the camera. “Time for a channel change.”

  Switching to a different station would make him feel better. Out of sight, out of mind. Except then he went cold all over.

  “What the...?”

  “You didn’t see it last night?”

  He glanced over at Jace who was leaning back in his chair, his gaze on Brett, a little smile curving his mouth.

  His attention returned to the screen. Angelica sat on a chair—in Jace’s house, maybe?—and was speaking to a slick character in a dark suit. “I didn’t watch any TV last night.”

  “She granted the interview because—”

  “Shh!” God, she looked so beautiful, Brett thought. Dressed casually in her usual autumn uniform of sweater, jeans and boots, her long hair wavy and gleaming under the lights. If she was nervous it didn’t show in her big brown eyes. Her tender, lush mouth didn’t tremble.

  The reporter gave a rundown of the charges against her father, and that’s when Brett learned the man had pleaded guilty to half of them, while the other half had been dropped. Speculation was that his sentence would be over fifty years.

  “You might never see him outside of prison again,” the man said to Angelica.

  She sucked in a quick breath. “That’s true. I can only hope that this plea bargain in some way helps the victims and that it means at least some of their losses might be quickly recouped.”

  “Your own money was lost, as well.”

  “Not through investing it with my father,” she said quickly.

  “It was lost when he stole it from you to pay his investors.”

  “I don’t know his motives.”

  The journalist leaned closer. “You haven’t spoken with him, then.”

  “No.”

  “Your mother, his first wife, is remarried now. What’s her take on this?”

  Brett saw that Angelica’s hands, folded in her lap, clutched each other a little tighter. But she was all cool princess when she answered. “I haven’t had a conversation with her, either.”

  The pounding in Brett’s head redoubled. It killed him, killed him, that she was so alone. Who the hell has ever loved you?

  “Angelica, tell me this. Do you think the reason your father kept you out of his business was to spare you?”

  She blinked. “I—I don’t know.”

  God, hearts would be breaking all over Southern California at the sweet hesitance in her voice.

  “If you had found out what he was doing before his arrest, would you have turned your father in?”

  “Oh, fuck,” Brett exclaimed, wanting to punch the asshole through the TV screen. “What kind of question is that?”

  Angelica tackled it anyway. “I believe I’m a good person...so I also believe I would have done so. It would have been difficult, but I don’t run away from difficult things.”

  No, she didn’t, Brett thought. She took on as many jobs as she could and she put up with his surly attitude and attempts to push her away. Despite her fears about intimacy, she pushed past them to be the sweetest fuck of his life. And how had he rewarded her? Who the hell has ever loved you?

  “Last question, Angelica.” The journalist was clearly won over by her. There was warmth in his gaze and he leaned in again. “What’s next for you?”

  “Living my life.” A faint smile curved her mouth. “Striving to build a good one.”

  “Best of luck.”

  Best of luck? That’s all the asshole had to say after filleting her open and exposing her tender soul?

  “God.” Brett rubbed the top of his head with his palm, over and over. How had she made it through that with such grace? His ey
es narrowed on Ryan. “This was first aired last night?”

  He nodded.

  “How did that guy find her?”

  Ryan grinned. “Oh, she called him.”

  “Huh?”

  “Lorraine Kushi ambushed her at the hardware store.”

  “Oh, hell. This is all my fault.”

  Ryan was still grinning. “Don’t flatter yourself. After speaking to her, it was Angelica who decided to contact Lorraine’s biggest rival.”

  His eyes rounded. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Beautiful and clever.” He hesitated. “And maybe just a little bit vengeful toward Lorraine for trapping her, which I personally find kind of hot.”

  “Jesus.” Brett glared. “You’re engaged to my sister and Angelica is...”

  Ryan tilted the brim of his hat. “Angelica is...?”

  “Stop poking at me.”

  “Will it hurt if I tell you she was feeling happy after that interview? She knew she had come out all right, hence the loud renditions of ‘Here Comes the Sun.’”

  Though reluctant, Brett couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad I didn’t hear that.”

  He also couldn’t help but be glad she was doing well now that the cameras were off. At least she was last night. But how about now? His arms actually began aching along with the throbbing beat of his head, he wanted to hold her so much.

  But shit, wasn’t that impulse wrong? He had no forever in him.

  * * *

  WITH SHAY’S CAR idling outside her cabin, Angelica turned to her. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “No problem. My day for the car pool run, anyway.”

  “My convertible—”

  “Jace will take a look at it when he gets home. If it’s something he can’t easily fix, we’ll call.”

  “Okay. I have an auto service...” Or she thought she did. Was she paid up?

  Shay reached over to pat her leg. “Stop worrying. Everything will work out.”

  Angelica gave her a smile. “I’ll hold you to that. And thanks for last night, too. I had a great time if we don’t count the little headache pulsing about right here.” She touched her fingertips to a spot between her eyebrows.