by Vivian Arend
“No, you’re right.” Her mom and dad exchanged glances, her father shaking his head slightly. Warning her mom off?
Maybe, and perhaps she should be grateful for that, but it bugged her that the only thing they seemed to hold against Rafe was the fact he didn’t belong to the church.
But she definitely didn’t want to get into that conversation today, so she ignored the issue like she’d done before, and concentrated on safe, generic topics, like the plans her parents were making for a short winter getaway.
She left them with hugs, that slightly uneasy sensation lingering as she drove away. They were her parents, and she loved them, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore. The world kept changing, and she still wasn’t sure how to fit the pieces together.
And now as she headed outside wrapped up against the cold, that strange sensation continued. She knew these people to some degree. All the generations of the Coleman clan, from Mike and Marion, to their son Blake and his wife Jaxi, and the growing family they were raising. And the Moonshine clan, and the rest of them, tangled up with familiar members of the community who’d been invited to the gathering.
Laurel knew them, and at the same time…she didn’t. They had faces, and they had names, but the real people inside?
She wasn’t the same person she’d been when she left Rocky, and ever since she’d returned there’d been a wall around part of her. Secrets kept because they needed to be—
Were all of them the same? Hiding parts of themselves?
Her ponderings were interrupted as a strong pair of arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her off her feet.
“Rafe?”
No answer.
She twisted in an attempt to see which Coleman male had picked her up, because it had to be a guy since she was now floating effortlessly over a foot off the ground.
A masculine chuckle sounded in her ear.
She realized her mistake the instant she spotted Rafe running toward them, his gaze narrowing as he approached.
“Jesse, he’s going to murder you,” she warned.
“All’s fair during a family snowball fight,” Jesse insisted, tugging her to the right and backing up rapidly.
Laurel laughed. “You’re using me as a shield?”
“Yup. Great idea, right?” Jesse interrupted himself to shout at his cousin. “Put the snowball down, and nobody gets hurt.”
Rafe kept coming, arm raised high.
Laurel spotted it now, the solid circle of white held in his grasp. “Don’t shoot,” she begged even as laughter bubbled free.
“Don’t worry, Sitko. I’ve got good aim.”
“Not that good,” she protested, and he winked.
“I won’t go willingly,” Jesse warned.
Laurel twisted a leg behind her, wrapping a foot around Jesse’s knee as she threw her weight backward, tipping them both to the ground.
She landed on top of him. Jesse let out a grunt, but he didn’t let go.
A second later Rafe had her free, nudging her behind him so he could stare down at his target.
Jesse held up his hands in mock horror. “You wouldn’t hit a defenseless man, would you?”
Rafe sighed before lowering the snowball and shaking his head, “Nah, you’re right. I wouldn’t.” He glanced at Laurel and tossed the snowball to her. “But I bet she would.”
“She totally would,” Laurel agreed, stepping toward Jesse with an evil grin.
The free-for-all ended a long while later as a whole lot of the Colemans joined the scramble. Rafe’s toque sat askew, and Laurel had snow melting down her back, but she was warm inside as Rafe took her by the hand and guided her toward the nearest barn.
“That was fun.” She stepped into the warmth with a sigh of contentment. “But the ice running down my back is killing me.”
“I can do something about that,” Rafe said, his voice going deeper. “Come on.”
He led her past stalls filled with horses, the fresh scent of clean hay and contented animals adding to the warmth. “What beautiful animals,” she whispered.
“Karen and my Uncle George are geniuses when it comes to breeding,” he offered, marching them past too quickly to really admire the beasts.
“In a hurry, Coleman? You have a schedule to meet?” she teased.
“More like an agenda.” He brought her to the nearest ladder that led to the loft.
She twisted to face him, making sure she wore her most serious librarian expression. “Mr. Coleman, are you taking me somewhere for nefarious purposes?”
He laid a hand on his chest and attempted to look shocked. “I can’t believe you asked that question.”
Laurel snickered. “I notice you didn’t say no.”
Rafe grinned and turned her to face the ladder then patted her on the butt. “Right. I just couldn’t believe you had to ask. You know what terrible mischief we get up to in hay lofts.”
This one wasn’t guaranteed as private as the one on Angel land, but there was a shiver of excitement running up her spine—or maybe that was the melting snow. Whatever it was, she made the decision to go along, climbing the ladder with him crowded close behind her. Letting him guide her when they reached the top. He brought her through the sweet-scented air toward a corner filled with stacked bales.
At the very edge a narrow path had been left open, and he guided her down it toward the far wall.
“Are we going to disappear like magic?”
“I had something to show you,” he insisted innocently.
She thought he was kidding, but he led her to a small platform on the west wall, unlatched the wooden partition in front of them and swung it open.
The height gave them a view of the entire Whiskey Creek house and yard, the enchanting building with its wraparound porch perched at the top of the hill, the backyard sloping to the south until it leveled off where it met a wide bend of the river. Grazing land beyond the house and the garden on the east was snow covered, but it was probably the prettiest of all the Coleman houses, except maybe for Gabe and Allison’s.
Laurel rested her arms on the windowsill and leaned forward. “Wow, I didn’t know they had such a great view.”
“Tamara and Lisa used to bring me up here when I was little. We were figuring out the best places to build jumps to go off with our sleds, but I’ve always remembered being jealous they had a hill and we didn’t.”
“Everyone else in your family built on level ground, didn’t they?”
“Whiskey Creek’s got more of the rolling hills right in their backyard. The rest of us have them scattered over different portions of the land.”
“Well, it’s pretty.” Laurel twisted to face him. “Did you really bring me up here to show me the view?”
Rafe blinked. “What else would we do in a hay loft?”
She fought to keep from smirking. “I have no idea.”
Leaning past him to grab hold of the window let her deliberately brush their bodies together as she closed and secured the latch. He chuckled, but didn’t step out of her way.
Didn’t make a move to ravish her, either, more’s the pity.
She slipped her fingers into his. “We’d better rejoin the party. It looked as if there were some free sleds.”
Playing for the rest of the afternoon allowed some of her earlier concerns to fade. They went up and down the hill a dozen times, the Six Pack nieces stealing rides with her. Rafe joined some of the teenage boys on the oversized inner tube, which tended to bounce everyone into the air and leave them in piles on the snow.
Inside the house there was food and laughter, and with Rafe’s hand around her waist, keeping her close, Laurel realized maybe it didn’t matter that she didn’t know these people inside and out.
So what if everyone had some secrets? The people she saw on the outside were still worth spending time with.
She was valuable as well—it was a truth she reminded herself of daily as she fought to keep from falling into sadness.
A won
derful, blessed sense of peace flowed through her as Laurel took Rafe home, slipping into her tiny apartment and guiding him directly to the bedroom.
He curled himself around her, stroking his fingers through her hair. He tightened his grip and tilted her head back. “Did you have a good time?”
She nodded as she tugged his shirt free from his jeans so she could slip her hands underneath and press her palms to his warm skin. “I like your family.”
“They like you,” he returned, dragging in air as she brushed a fingertip over his nipple. “I want to stay the night,” he murmured.
“I want that too.” She glanced over her shoulder at her bed. “You have no idea how much I’m regretting that twin mattress.”
Rafe swept her up in a tight embrace before rolling onto the bed. “I don’t know. I kind of like the fact there’s not enough room for you to get away.”
She pulled at his shirt until he stripped it off, pressing her lips to his chest. “Hmm. Warm. And tasty.”
He chuckled as she licked him. “You’re tickling.”
“Am I? I didn’t mean to. I meant to turn you on.”
“Oh, you got that part right, as well.” Rafe wiggled her shirt up and off, swearing softly. “Long underwear? Seriously?”
“We were going tobogganing,” she explained. “I wasn’t about to wear anything dainty. I don’t like the cold.” She gasped as he slid his hands beneath her layers. “Rafe, your hands are like ice.”
When she attempted to squirm away, he flipped her over and pinned her under him, his palms warming against her skin. “You make a great hot-water bottle.”
Laurel opened her mouth to teasingly give him hell—and a long, low moan of lust escaped instead. He’d placed his mouth on the bare skin he’d exposed at her lower back, and as he stripped away her pants, he nibbled and kissed and licked his way down her body.
Brief caresses sent her senses reeling. Shivers rolled over her skin in anticipation of his tongue’s attention. Sensitive spots, like the edge where her thigh and butt met, heightened the pleasure. He laved his tongue along the crease there, and she wanted to beg for more.
Even as she wanted him completely and fully at her mercy—like in any great friendship.
She twisted her head to the side, cheek resting on the mattress so she could gaze down the bed at him. “Hey, baby?”
He nipped her butt. “Still insist on using that nickname, do you?”
“Until you figure out something better than Sitko, um, yeah.”
Rafe pressed a kiss to her bottom before kneeling to strip off his shirt and undershirt. “Sweet Cakes? Princess? Like one of those?”
She fake-gagged then went back to the topic at hand. “Hey, you ready for your last Christmas present now?”
His hands were back on her body as he stroked and caressed and drove her mad. One move lifted her hips in the air, then he was behind her, hand between her legs, stroking his strong fingers between her folds and over her clit. “It’s a lovely present. Just what I’ve always wanted.”
Laurel shivered as he pressed a thick finger in deep. Slowly, carefully…
“It’s all yours. Oh, and by the way, we don’t need wrapping paper anymore.” His fingers hesitated, and she kicked herself for her bad timing. “Don’t stop,” she complained.
The bed bounced slightly as he landed beside her, his eyes fixed on hers with a question.
“Too many sugar cookies today to concentrate? Or was I pushing it with the Christmas analogies?” Laurel asked.
“Just want to be crystal clear,” he said, his voice gone a tone deeper. “No condoms?”
“I went on the pill. And it’s been long enough, we’re good to go.”
His gaze trickled over her lazily, heated intent rising. “Oh, well now. Merry Christmas to me.”
Rafe leaned closer and kissed her, his tongue sweeping in and stroking hers before he broke away to kiss a path down her back again. This time he didn’t stop until he’d reached his target. His strong hands gripped her hips as he stroked his tongue over her sex. Dipping deeper, sliding higher.
She gasped when he licked between her cheeks, face hot enough she’d forgotten she’d ever been cold. “Fuck.”
Rafe chuckled. “No swearing in bed, Sugar Plum. You know it distracts me.”
“Fuck, please?” she tried, a gasp of amusement slipping out.
“Hmmm, so polite. Hard to resist a sweet request like that, Snuggle-bug.”
Only he did. For the next umpteen minutes that blurred together into one ball of pleasure, one stroke of need, one touch of rising urgency until his rapid licking and caressing with his fingers sent her hurtling into an orgasm.
“Rafe…”
He rose behind her, hauling her hips up a second before he pushed her torso down. She was wide open to him and his cock was between her folds and—
She expected a long, hard thrust. One stroke that would join them rapidly and send her flying.
Rafe slid into her. Inch by inch, his cock thick and hot, with his body rising over hers. She was filled to the brim, covered by him, and she should have been one small gasp away from being overwhelmed.
Instead she found herself grounded. Anchored. He kissed the back of her neck so sweetly tears threatened to gather.
Until he whispered lovingly— “You good, my Darlin’ Lambchop?”
Laurel lost it, laughing out loud. “Way to break a moment.”
“Were we having a moment?” He kissed her, then hummed softly. “I’m planning on having several moments. If someone could concentrate.”
“How am I supposed to concentrate with you calling me stupid pet names? Oh, yes—do that again,” she begged.
He’d slipped out, angling higher as he stroked in. Teasing her, and priming her pleasure higher with each motion.
“Boo-bear? Pum-kin? Hot damn this feels good.”
“So good,” Laurel agreed, fists clenching the quilt as she rocked back to meet his every drive.
“Does Cutie-Pie like my cock?” He snorted at the same time she did. “Nope, even I can’t say that one with a straight face.”
“Coleman?” Laurel muttered.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and fuck me already,” she ordered.
His grip on her hips tightened. His answer didn’t come with words, it came with actions. Long hard drives, slow teasing stokes. Every time she was on the verge of coming he’d shake it up until she was making so much noise her throat was going to be sore the next day.
Rafe was over her, riding her hard when she broke, and a second later he joined her, hips tight to her ass as he wrapped himself around her and pressed her to the mattress. Heavy, but perfect.
Their breathing was fast and hard, and her entire body tingled. Rafe was kissing the back of her neck, stroking his fingers down her arms as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her.
Her face was sore from smiling so much.
This was where her joy was—with him. They were laughter, and they were light, and they were…
More.
Together they added up to so much more, and she was beginning to think that something might equal forever.
Chapter Twenty-Two
January came and went. Laurel found herself staring at the bulletin board in front of her without really seeing it.
On a scale of one to ten, she’d grade the time she got to spend with Rafe as a solid nine. Every day she looked forward to going to her job, and her friendship with Nicole was amazing.
Church, on the other hand…
After Jeff had started holding weekly meetings with the worship team, she’d asked to be taken off the music schedule. Bumping into him that often just brought up painful memories—and it was past time to move on.
Actually quitting the church was more difficult than she’d imagined, even if it would have meant not seeing Jeff’s face on a weekly basis.
Why was she doing this? Why was she being so wishy-washy about church? They were well into a brand
-new year, and still she hadn’t found the solution to her dilemma.
Sticking to her no and not teaching for her sister was the most Laurel could do. Helping put up a few decorations had seemed like a safe alternative to keeping the peace, but being back at the church midweek, stapling snowflakes around the edges of the board for her sister seemed to trigger all the things Laurel hadn’t wanted to think about too hard.
A few doors down voices were raised in song. Words of praise from a group of seniors who met every Wednesday night to pray for Rocky Mountain House and everyone who lived there.
Why was she there?
Where did she fit in?
God? This place doesn’t feel like home anymore. That’s not really a complaint, by the way, more like a comment, but… Okay, it’s a complaint. I’m mad I don’t feel the way I used to about church. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?
“Laurel?”
Shit.
Very funny, she muttered to God. You had him hidden around a corner to send out as an attack dog if I got cheeky, right?
“I’m glad to see you,” Jeff offered, leaning on the wall next to the project she was dillydallying over. “I’m finished with the youth group. You want to get a drink and chat for a while?”
“Not really.” Laurel grabbed a random piece of paper off her pile and held it against the board, trying to look as if what she was doing was absolutely vital.
“The café downtown is open for another half hour,” he teased, poking the snowflake out of her grasp with a finger. “Pie and hot chocolate.”
Really?
She turned slowly to allow herself to control a flash of temper—the temper she seemed to only develop around him. Although, maybe he wasn’t being stupid and annoying—no use jumping to conclusions. “Is there a group going?”
He smiled enticingly. “Just us.”
Or…maybe he was still being stupid and annoying. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you alone. I have a boyfriend—why is that so hard to understand?”
“Laurel.” He shook his head. “When are you going to stop pretending?”
She looked him over carefully for more clues because he wasn’t making any sense. “You think I’m pretending to go out with Rafe?”