by Jamie Beck
Branches—large and small—lay everywhere. This entire ridge suffered the worst wind damage he’d seen all day. He couldn’t be happier that the roof of the ranch-style home remained intact.
He noticed the For Sale sign in the front yard. The 1940s home appeared long neglected, but it was surrounded on two sides by National Forest land, and the neighbor to the left was a couple of acres away on the other side of a thick stand of trees.
“I need to use the restroom, then I’ll clear some of these branches from the shrubs while you check the house,” Gabby said, focused on the task at hand instead of being caught up in the romance of the possibilities of this property.
Once inside, Jackson found himself surveying the structure—not for the reasons he should be, but with an eye toward remodeling. In no time at all, Gabby reappeared.
“Find any leaks?” she asked.
“Oh, no. I’m just admiring the property. This place is awesome.”
She looked at him like he’d sprouted another head. “This place?”
“Hell, yeah. It’s solidly built, so imagine if I tore out the ceiling and took it up to the rafters. Throw in some beams up there for a cool look, and take out this ugly old window and make the whole back of this house glass to take advantage of those long-range views. I’d rip out that brick mantel and replace it with a twelve-foot-high dry-stack stone one. Redo the kitchen with knotty alder cabinetry and stainless steel appliances. Fix that stone patio and add a built-in fire pit.” He stopped and glanced at Gabby to find her smiling, deep dimples on full display. “What?”
“You. You were in another world now. When you describe everything you want to do, I wish I could afford to buy this place and pay you to remodel it.”
“Me, too.” For one wistful moment, he envisioned sitting on the rebuilt terrace, having coffee and scanning the paper, eating some great breakfast Gabby—er, he cooked. He shook his head and walked away from the window. “I’m going to the basement to check for water damage.”
“I’ll meet you outside.” She walked away, but he caught her glancing around now with a critical eye, as if she, too, were thinking about the house differently.
When he exited the garage ten minutes later, he glanced around and spotted Gabby working near the front of the home.
It’d been a long day of clearing debris. Hard, dirty work. Not without a fair amount of bugs or an occasional snake, either. Yet instead of complaining, Gabby’d spent the better part of the afternoon humming to herself, pausing only long enough to wipe her brow, seemingly unaware of his notice.
Nothing about her fit the stereotype of what one might expect from a girl who accidentally got pregnant in her late teens. He liked her all the more for her grit, determination, and good humor. She was one of a kind, no doubt about that, and he’d miss her when he left. He knew that, and he knew he’d probably think about her and her family for some time to come.
He wondered, now, if she’d come to a decision about her mom, but didn’t want to pry. Wasn’t really his business, was it? Still, the thought replayed like a skip in the groove of one of his Dad’s prized old albums.
“Watch it, Gabby!” Jackson called as she caught her foot on one fallen branch while trying to rescue some shrubs from the clutches of another.
“Oof!” She landed on her side, ankle twisted. “Ow.”
He jogged to her and threw aside the branch she’d been moving. She winced while freeing her wedged foot. After watching how tough she’d been all day, he knew her ankle had to hurt pretty bad for her to grimace.
“Can you stand?” He set one hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll see.” She held her hands up like a child. “Help me up, please.”
“Let’s not dislocate your shoulders, too.” He went behind her and placed his forearms under her armpits. “One, two, three, up you go.”
He held her until she seemed stable. Gingerly, she tested the bad ankle and immediately yelped, then hopped around on the good leg.
“Whoa! Stop before you fall again and hurt something else.” He curled his arm around her waist, wishing he didn’t like the tingle of awareness fanning along the whole left side of his body. Privately, he loved the excuse to hold her. To let her soft hair brush against his neck. To be physically connected in any way, really.
Just friends, he’d told her. But each day they’d worked together, that mismatched characterization of his feelings became more and more apparent. “Let’s see if we can get you back to the truck in one piece.”
He kept one arm around her and they took three steps before he realized she’d never make it back down the mountain to where they’d parked her truck. Stopping in his tracks, he said, “I think our best bet is if I carry you piggyback.”
“It’s a long way, though.” She tested her bad ankle again and winced.
“Exactly. Too far to hop. The only sure way down without another stumble is if you’re on my back.”
Gabby shrugged. “Works for me.”
Jackson squatted a bit and hefted her onto his back.
“Don’t go fast! It’s muddy. If you fall, we’re both in trouble.” She rested her chin on his shoulder.
He turned his head slightly and gave her a sidelong glance. “You think I’m some uncoordinated oaf?”
“No, but it’s steep and slick. You’re not used to these roads.” She adjusted her position, gripping him more tightly around the waist with her legs.
Carrying her down the mountainside required concentration and blood pumping through his limbs, but her movement set his oversexed imagination off and pooled all the blood in his groin.
“Stop wriggling or we are going to fall.” He sidestepped down the road to reduce the risk of losing his footing.
“Sorry.” Gabby sighed and then rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Thanks. You’re a good friend. A good guy.”
“Sometimes, anyway.” He wondered if she was thinking about her father’s warnings. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, but could feel her gaze roving his hair, profile, even his ear. “Stop.”
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re staring at me.” He stepped over a large crack in the road where running water had eroded the surface.
“Sorry. I was just wondering.”
Uh-oh.
When he didn’t pry, she spoke with a manly sounding voice. “Oh? What were you wondering, Gabby?” Then she went back to her own voice. “Well, seeing that we’re friends and all, and seeing how friends care about each other’s feelings, I was wondering how much of my dad’s lecture you overheard last night.”
This? Now?
“Enough to know he’s concerned about you and Luc.”
“I was afraid of that. Don’t take it personally. My mom hurt him so much, he can’t be objective.”
“And you can?” Jackson deliberately kept his eyes ahead. “Your mom hurt you, too, otherwise her letter wouldn’t have upset you.”
“True, but it’s different from my dad. Unlike me, he chose her. I think he feels guilty about that, like his bad choice screwed up my life.” Gabby shrugged. “The truth is, my life’s not all that screwed up. I could waste time wishing my mom had never gotten sick, gripe about how her drug habit embarrassed me, how her leaving hurt, and even blame her for my teen rebellion and pregnancy, but what good would any of that do anyone? Besides, I love Luc so much, how can I regret him? Heck, in a twisted way, maybe I even owe her. Ultimately, what happened in my family forced me to grow up and get my priorities right. Sometimes life feels hard and lonely—and I envy my friends, like Tess, who have freedom and options I no longer do—but then nice surprises happen, too. Like you. You’ve been a great surprise.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. More importantly, he admired the way she could turn pain on its head and embrace the silver linings. If anything, she’d been the great surprise, not the other way around.
“As have you.” And then, because she’d somehow unlocked the closed-off part
of his heart, he added, “Meeting you has been the best thing that’s happened to me in quite some time.”
Instead of saying anything, she readjusted her arms, keeping one slung over his right shoulder while the other now snaked beneath his left armpit. Clasping her hands together in front of his chest, she hugged him. The whole maneuver fitted her body even more snugly against his back. “Better?”
Not really. Well, yes, actually. It did feel better.
Safer. Warmer.
So warm, he started feeling flush from it.
Thank God her feet weren’t locked at the ankles, or they’d have butted up against the bulge growing in the front of his sweats.
He couldn’t close his eyes and think of anything else without losing his balance, so he shifted his focus to the stones on the road, counting his steps in his head, something—anything—to take his mind off how much he wanted to twist her around and kiss her.
“You know so much about me, but you haven’t told me anything about your family except that your mom died and you’ll be an uncle soon. How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Gabby’s breath brushed over his skin, as enticing as the soft scratch of a woman’s fingernails.
Of course, thinking about his family helped douse his libido a bit, so he seized on it. “Older brother, David, and a younger sister, Cat.”
“Ha, Cat St. James, like the model.”
Jackson chuckled. “Exactly.”
Gabby gulped. “Exactly? You mean your sister is the model?”
Jackson nodded, finding it amusing to hear Gabby’s reaction to learning about Cat. He knew his sister left some—mostly men—starstruck, but he’d always seen her as the hedgehog—his nickname for her—who could be his best friend or a pest, depending on her mood.
“Wow . . . I guess I can see how she looks a little like you, but a lot prettier.” Gabby snickered. “Only kidding. You’re pretty, too.”
“Pretty?” Jackson scoffed, and she snickered again.
He stepped over a fallen branch, thinking about his family now. He glanced over his shoulder at Gabby, who’d fallen silent. Finally, she sighed. “It’s nice that you have them. I’ve always hated being an only child. Are you close?”
“Yes,” he said, then elaborated. “We were closer, but after my mom died, things got a little weird. David moved to Hong Kong for a while, and Cat got herself involved in a bad relationship. So did I. Everything kind of went to hell for a while, but somehow David and Cat landed on their feet. I’m still finding my footing, I guess.”
“Sounds like you don’t like the fact that it’s taken you longer to recover. You know what I think, though? I think the more deeply you care, the more deeply you hurt, so of course it takes longer to heal. If I were you, I’d be proud of the fact that I could be that hurt. A caring heart is a good thing, Jackson.”
He might’ve stopped breathing for a minute. She’d voiced the exact thing he’d wanted to believe about himself. Somehow Gabby really saw him—or at least the “him” he wanted to be. Whether they both were right or just crazy didn’t matter as much as the fact that they were in sync. Suddenly neither her age, the geographical distance, nor Doc’s warnings mattered.
When they arrived at the truck, Jackson opened the passenger door and turned so she could scoot off his back. As soon as her butt hit the seat he whirled around, cupped her face, and kissed her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Heat flared throughout Gabby’s body as Jackson’s gentle kiss turned rough and hungry. One of his callused hands settled behind the base of her neck, and the other quickly groped her hip, yanking her forward so he could nestle himself between her legs. The throbbing in her ankle disappeared only to reappear higher up inside her thigh.
He nipped at her lip with his teeth before kissing her again. She threaded her fingers through Jackson’s silky waves of hair, sealing herself to him in a passionate tangle of tongues and lips and warmth and moisture. A sensual, gentle, giving kiss, just like the man she’d known him to be. It outperformed every fantasy she’d had about it and him.
A satisfied moan rattled in his chest, shooting a burst of tingles straight to her core.
“Jackson,” she whispered when his mouth began exploring the contours of her jaw and neck.
But somehow speaking had been a mistake—a terrible, spell-breaking mistake—because he pulled back, blinking as if shaking himself free from a haze. He then hugged her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry. I got selfish and greedy and didn’t stop to think. We shouldn’t cross this line, but damn if you don’t have a way of saying things that make me feel so . . . so much. Honest to Christ, I don’t know how you do that.”
She tipped up her chin so her lips pressed against his neck again. “Don’t stop.”
He held her tight once more before kissing her forehead and then backing away. Chilly October wind rushed into the now-empty space between them, making her shiver.
“Gabby, you know this isn’t smart.” He crossed his arms, stuffing his hands beneath his armpits.
Probably true. He’d be here only long enough for her to get crushed. And then there was the not-insignificant issue of his drinking, or rather her aversion to inviting that kind of worry back into her life.
Yet, to have experienced—even briefly—his intense brand of lust and tenderness only to have it ripped away felt like a cruel slap across the cheek. The other day they’d agreed to be friends. She’d heard the sincerity in his voice when he’d admitted to needing a friend. Yet none of the complications stopped her from wanting to explore this powerful affection.
“Maybe we should seize the moment. Look at it like a breezy, short-term vacation fling?”
His eyes widened in response to her proposition, then he frowned. “No.”
“Why not?”
He looked right in her eyes. “Because flings are what you have with people you can’t see yourself caring about, and that’s not the way I feel about you.”
His flattery, so unpracticed and sincere, swaddled her heart with hope.
“If that’s true, then maybe this,” she gestured between them, “is worth the risk.”
He hesitated before responding, as if searching for a reason that could convince them both.
“My life’s in Connecticut, and yours is here, in Vermont, with your dad and your son. Then there’s Noah. And even if you are mature for your age, you are still young and don’t need to be saddled with all my shit.” He looked off for a moment. “A happy ending here seems damn near impossible, so we’d be stupid to start something that could only hurt us both to lose.”
“Jackson—” she began, until he interrupted, making it clear the discussion had ended.
Staring at her foot, he asked, “How’s the ankle?”
She glared at him, irrationally angry. “Fine.”
“Don’t be like that, Gabby.” Jackson sighed. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Maybe he was, but she didn’t have to like it or make it easy. Yanking her legs inside the cab of the pickup, she muttered, “We should get back. Luc is probably getting dropped off soon.”
Jackson closed the door and walked around the front of the truck, his expression shuttered. He climbed behind the steering wheel and started the engine without another word.
Awkward tension thickened the air inside the cab. Both kept their gazes on the road ahead for the duration of the ten-minute drive back to her house. When he finally killed the engine, he said, “Let me help you inside.”
“No, thanks.” She knew moping wasn’t attractive, but in the heat of the moment she didn’t care.
“Come on, your ankle’s still a little swollen.”
She turned on him. “Contrary to what you and my dad think, I’m actually a grown-up, capable of asking for help if I need it, or making decisions about what I can handle. So thanks, but I can manage without you.”
For a second, she felt rather self-satisfied. Then he reached across the seat and gripped her arm. “S
top it, Gabby.”
“Stop what?” Her petulant tone rang out.
“Pouting like a baby because you don’t want to face the truth about us. Refusing my help now because you’re pissed at me for not giving in.”
She shrugged out of his grip, chastised and embarrassed.
Jackson continued speaking, although with a tempered tone. “Grown-ups think things through instead of acting on impulse. They have the perspective to forego short-term fun to avoid long-term pain. They appreciate a compliment instead of sulking.”
He watched her until she met his gaze. Like always, his caramel-colored eyes affected her like black magic, bathing her in a frustrating wash of desire, intimacy, and wistfulness.
“In my opinion, a grown-up recognizes how rare this kind of connection is, and doesn’t give it up without a fight. But maybe that’s what got you stuck here in Vermont in the first place. Maybe sticking around to fight for someone isn’t in your DNA after all.”
The golden flecks in his eyes flashed with disbelief and a little anger. Gabby decided not to hang around for whatever he might say next.
She practically leapt from the car, thankful to land on her good ankle. She scrambled, as fast as she could hop, to the front door without looking back. As she entered her house, she heard the truck door slam shut. Once inside, she closed her front door and rested her forehead against it until her heart rate slowed.
“That you, Gabby?” her father called from the living room.
The man had been her hero for so long, but ever since she got her mom’s letter, the sound of his voice hurt like a bruise being bumped. Like Jackson, he didn’t think she was strong enough to handle disappointment, or to make decisions about her own flippin’ life.
The days of being seen as a child should’ve ended when she’d birthed her own.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m home.” She limped into the living room and glanced at the clock. “Didn’t Noah bring Luc home yet?”
“I’m sure they’ll be here any minute.” He waved dismissively, then narrowed his gaze. “How was the damage? Any major problems?”