Then immediately kicked himself because those moments weren’t about attraction, but comfort.
“Dinner is smelling good,” she said, turning to him. With the direction his thoughts were going, he wished she hadn’t. Up close, it was hard not to notice just how gorgeous she was. Her eyes sparkled and her full lips were rosy, and she reminded him of how good life could be. Like somewhere along the way he’d forgotten that. He’d been so focused on his injury and everything that had been taken away from him instead on the fact that he was here. He was alive.
He smiled at her, backing up a step. “Thanks. I better get back to it,” he said, needing to distance himself from her. Half an hour later, he was plating their chicken stir-fry and rice and Melody was peering into the fridge to get drinks.
“I guess its beer or…orange juice or eggnog? Though I guess that’s for family.”
“Definitely beer. I think they said they’ll bring all that stuff. Where do you want to sit?”
She grabbed two bottles of beer and glanced at the table and then the couches. “How about we sit on the couch and watch a movie or something?”
“No sappy Christmas movies,” he said, settling into the corner of one couch while Melody sat in the corner of the other, a side table between them. Perfect. Less temptation.
“Agreed.”
He shrugged and put his feet on the coffee table ottoman. “Too happy.”
She nodded, taking a forkful of food. “True, but we’re supposed to be happy.”
“How about Die Hard?”
“Perfect! Also, this food is delicious.”
He’d just started the movie when both their phones vibrated. They looked at each other. “It’s borderline harassment,” he said. “I thought they were all busy professionals.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know.”
“Do you want to look or should I?”
She flashed him a smile that would have made him agree to just about anything. “You can do the honors as my doting boyfriend.”
My God, he might just turn into one of those doting boyfriends if she kept looking at him like that. He picked up his phone, reading the text aloud. “‘Hey guys, sorry to say that we won’t be able to come up tomorrow because the roads are closed because of the storm. We’ll be there Christmas Eve morning, though. Stay warm!’”
Melody frowned and looked in the direction of the windows. “It can’t be that bad. We still have power,” she said.
He was already looking up the weather. “It’s bad. Worse than bad. White-out conditions, possible power outages due to high winds.”
“Oh, great. One day later is perfect. We won’t have to fake joy for as long,” she said, finishing off the food on her plate.
He nodded, though both of them had seemed a lot less miserable the last couple days. Especially after their trip into town. Unless she’d been faking it? He wasn’t.
He frowned and worked on his own plate. Melody settled back in the sofa and picked up her beer, her eyes on the television. A part of him was very happy to not have to give up his time with her. The lights and television flickered momentarily, and they both let out a sigh of relief when they stayed on.
“I guess there isn’t a generator?” Melody said, glancing over at him.
He shook his head. “No. But there’s enough wood for a few days if the power did go out.”
“But then we wouldn’t be able to watch the rest of the Die Hard movies,” she complained, but her eyes sparkled.
He sighed. “There you go speaking the worst into existence again.”
She laughed, and just like that, the lights flickered and all power went out. The fireplace glowed, and Melody turned to him. “Oops.”
“We’ve really got to work on your powers of suggestion. Focus them on good, not evil.”
She grinned, and his chest warmed at the amusement plain on her face. No. She wasn’t faking it, either.
It was one thing to be around Melody and have lots of activities planned. It was another to sit in a dark cabin all night, warmth and laughter still hovering between them. The room had gone from friendly and bright to firelight flickering and intimate. It was so silent except for the whirring of wind outside. “Now what are we going to do?”
He got up and walked to the window, intending to assess however much of the situation he could despite the dark. They probably weren’t going to get power for hours if this storm didn’t let up. “Good thing we stocked up on beer.”
She joined him at the window. Immediately, he wished she hadn’t, because they were standing very close to each other.
“Are you implying that beer would be necessary when stuck with me in a storm?” she asked softly.
His mouth went dry, and he looked down into her sparkling eyes. “Don’t put words into my mouth,” he said with a short laugh, moving away from her and into safer territory. The kitchen was safe. Dirty dishes were definitely safe.
“How about a board game?” She crossed the great room and opened the armoire that housed extra blankets and pillows…and apparently board games.
He got busy loading the dishwasher and tried to pull himself together. “Sure.”
“Monopoly?”
“Sounds good.”
“I should warn you. I can get pretty competitive,” she said, opening the box and setting it up on the ottoman coffee table.
He bit back a smile and headed for the fridge. More beer was definitely in order. “Perfect. Me too. Once, Ben and I were so obsessed with it as kids, our mom had to hide the game. We kept playing best of three series, and when Saturday night hit, we stayed up all night. Big trouble once we were discovered.”
She started counting out the bills. “Who was the ultimate champ?”
“A tie. We still haven’t had our tie-breaker game,” he said, sitting down opposite her.
Two hours and two more beers later, Finn came to the conclusion that Melody was actually more competitive than him and Ben combined. She was counting her piles of cash, and he knew she was checking if she had enough money to buy hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place, her eyes glittering with impending victory. Little did she know he wasn’t the type to go down that easily. He stretched his bad leg out in front of him and groaned, clutching his thigh.
She put down her wad of cash and leaned forward, the evil gleam gone, replaced by a frown of concern. “Are you okay?”
He winced and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s your turn,” he said, finishing off his beer, his hand still on his leg.
She bit her lower lip, her gaze going from him to her pile of cash. He stifled his grin when she made the move he thought she would and just rolled the dice, intentionally missing her opportunity to buy property. “Your turn. I hate the Chance pile,” she said under her breath after having to fork over cash for a card she picked up from the Chance deck.
He cleared his throat and proceeded to place hotels on all the green, yellow, and red properties he owned. He shifted uncomfortably when she swore under her breath, and her eyes narrowed on him. “Did you set me up? Did you fake leg pain so that I would feel sorry for you and not buy hotels?”
He straightened some errant hotels, not looking at her. “Maybe.”
“This means war, Finn,” she said, leaning forward.
He sat back, enjoying the taste of impending victory. “I welcome the challenge.”
She made a strangled noise and picked up her beer. “This is empty,” she said, putting down the bottle with an audible thud.
“I’ll get you another one.”
“Oh, is your leg all right? Are you sure you can manage standing?”
He bit back a grin and stood then held back a curse when he put his weight on his injured leg. Dammit. Sitting on the rug for so long in the same position, due to their competitive nature, had him regretting all of it.
&n
bsp; “Nice try,” she grumbled, making piles with her five-hundred-dollar bills. “No more sympathy from me. I’ll be sitting here counting all my money and then mentally calculating how many times it will take for you to land on my property before you go bankrupt.”
He was relieved. He didn’t want her sympathy now that he actually was in pain. He walked slowly so that his limp wouldn’t be too pronounced and then leaned against the island to take a break, his heart racing. Damn. It felt like he’d just run a mile. He’d had too much to drink to make him think of touching pain meds, but not taking anything would be hell, too. His only option was another beer and then coming up with an excuse to end the game and going to his own room where he could either try and sleep it off or stare at the ceiling in misery.
“I think we need more wood,” Melody called out.
Shit. Normally, grabbing a few logs from the porch would be nothing he’d think twice about. Now it would be sheer torture. Especially without letting Melody know. He hobbled over to the door. “I’ll grab it. Just sit there and try and come up with a game plan to win. But there’s no way you’re getting through that alley of death I just set up.”
“Nice try. I actually have enough money to put hotels on St. Charles and that entire row, which comes before your overpriced property, so we’ll see who needs a game plan.”
He opened the front door, and wind and snow hit him in the face as he limped onto the porch. He shut the door behind him, almost relieved by the cold on his overheated skin. He slowly made his way to the pile of wood and grabbed a few logs. But because it was so dark out, he picked the wrong one, and it sent a few others piling out. He reached out to try and grab them before it sent the whole pile tumbling, inadvertently putting his weight on his bad leg, and it gave out. He reached out for something to steady himself but ended up causing the entire pile to collapse around him. He swore, and tears stung his eyes as he landed on his ass on the porch. He squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing, searing pain in his leg and the sudden nausea that gripped him.
He heard the door opening and Melody rushing over to him. “Omigosh, Finn. Are you okay? Why didn’t you let me help you?”
Humiliation burned through his body. “I can get a damn piece of wood,” he snapped and then instantly regretted his harsh tone.
“This isn’t the time for macho bravado,” she said in an equally snippy voice. “Clearly you need help because you’re sitting on your ass in a blizzard. So let me help you up.”
He clenched his teeth and opened his eyes. “I can get up myself.”
She sat back on her heels and crossed her arms, raising a brow. “Then go.”
Dammit. He glanced over at the pile of wood, or what had been a pile of wood, and knew it would be ugly. “Fine. For the record, you’re not a very nice girlfriend. I just need you to help me stand. Once I’m standing, I can walk. It was just a small mess-up and all the logs came tumbling down. I’m actually fine.”
“Sure you are. Just like you were going to actually win that game of Monopoly. Also, I am a very nice girlfriend, and if you can’t appreciate me, then that’s your own fault.” She stood and held out her hand, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. Clearly, she knew him better than he thought.
He almost managed a laugh, but the pain in his leg was so severe he only managed a grunt as he surrendered his pride and reached for Melody’s hand. Her grip was firm and she was strong, tucking one of her shoulders under his left arm and wrapping her arm around his waist once he was standing. “Just lean on me as much as you want. I’m a lot tougher than you think.”
He gritted his teeth hard, concentrating on just making it inside to the couch and hopefully not falling on top of her. He had thought a hoist up would do the trick, but he really did need the help. And he was pissed. None of this should have happened.
“We’re almost there. You’re doing great,” she said, the encouragement in her voice making him cringe. He liked it better when she was angry at him. He hated that she was seeing him like this. He hated being like this. When they reached the couch, he hesitated, knowing he was in for a hell of a time trying to go from standing to lying down. He just needed to lie down and that would be okay.
“I’m okay,” he said through gritted teeth, moving his arm away, wishing she could just go away and give him some privacy. “You can go back to counting your money.”
She blinked. “I’m not just going to leave you standing here. How are you going to actually get on the couch without being in intense misery? Here’s what we’re going to do: you’re going to put both hands on my shoulders. I’ll hold onto your waist and slowly crouch down.”
“Why are you so bossy?” he grumbled.
“Because you’re too proud to accept my help and just listen to me.”
“I’m going to drag you down on top of me,” he said, not taking any pleasure in the idea of Melody on top of him in this condition.
“You are forgetting I work in a hospital and have had many heavily pregnant and distraught women in vulnerable positions. Believe me, I can handle you. I’ve never dropped someone. Let’s go. Trust me. I’ve got you,” she said firmly.
He shut his eyes. He had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he did as he was told, but trying to lean on her as little as possible. He let out a litany of curses as he finally hit the couch, blinding pain making him see stars instead of Melody’s gorgeous face. But she was right there, crouched beside him, a deep frown on her forehead. “What can I do to help? What kind of pain is it?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s like a muscle spasm. It was damaged in the fire, and it tightens uncontrollably. It will loosen up,” he said, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, hoping like hell it would hurry up.
“What about a heating pad?”
He gave a shake of his head. “No heat.”
“Can I massage it? Loosen the tension?”
How the hell would Melody’s hands on his thigh loosen any kind of tension? He moved his hand to his thigh. “It’s okay. It’s already easing up,” he lied, trying to apply pressure himself.
She swatted his hand away. “You’re a bad liar. Just like you’re a bad Monopoly player. Show me where and what you like.”
Oh, for God’s sake. She needed to stop talking. Her hands gently grasped the sides of his thigh, and he clenched his teeth from the pain. Thankfully, all sexual thoughts left his head due to his physical agony. “Right there,” he managed.
She slowly, gently, kneaded his leg, and he forced himself to relax. She applied gentle but firm pressure, and slowly, thankfully, after a few minutes he felt the knot in his leg beginning to uncoil.
“I can feel your muscle loosening,” she said softly.
“You can stop if you’re tired,” he said, speaking with greater ease now. He could actually take a deep breath now that the pain was lessening.
“I’ll go a bit longer until I don’t feel the knot anymore.”
“Thank you,” he said, completely humbled and grateful.
“No problem. It reminds me of the time I helped Addie make homemade pizza dough.”
“My leg is not like pizza dough,” he said in a choked voice. “It has way more muscle than that.”
She burst out laughing. “Your ego is too easy to bait.”
He grimaced. “I can’t deny it.”
“I feel bad. If I hadn’t been winning at Monopoly and beating you so badly, you wouldn’t have had to drink so much, and you would’ve been able to take some painkillers.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. And maybe fell for her just a little bit more as she crouched on the floor beside him. She didn’t feel sorry for him. She didn’t put up with his stubbornness. She was tough and knew exactly how to deal with him. He didn’t think he’d ever forget what she’d done for him here.
He wanted to reach out and move the strands of hair that kept falling in front
of her eyes as she worked on his leg, but he knew that would be crossing a line. It would be too intimate. Because then he’d want more. He’d want to touch the side of her face, to trace her cheekbone, then lower, until he reached her mouth. He wanted to feel if her lips were as soft as they looked.
Without thinking of the repercussions of a simple touch, he placed his hand on hers, and she stopped moving. He’d meant to just stop her from continuing to work on his leg, because he knew she would have kept going. But instead, it ignited a spark in him that he didn’t want to ignore anymore.
Her mouth parted, and she looked at him with the same desire sparkling in her eyes that he felt. “Better?” she whispered.
He gave her a stiff nod. “Thank you.”
She slipped her hand from his and stood. “Well, do you want to turn in for the night?”
Sitting up, he managed to swing his leg over the side of the sofa. “Nope. I’ve got a second wind. You’re a miracle worker. My leg feels so much better. Thanks, Mel.”
She shrugged and sat on the couch opposite him. “No big deal, really. I mean, what else were we going to do with our time?”
His eyes went to her mouth then back up to her eyes when he realized what he was doing. Her face had turned red, and he needed to stop. This was just two people stranded alone together for the holidays. Two lonely people who, once they left this perfect little cabin of happiness, would re-enter the real world and know they were wrong for each other. They had different long-term goals. Family was everything to him. One day, he wanted a family of his own, so starting something with someone who clearly didn’t want those same things would be pointless. Besides, he needed to figure out what he was going to do with his career—though tonight was a grim predictor of what he wasn’t going to be able to do. If the random spasms didn’t completely go away, he would be a liability as a firefighter. He’d endanger the lives of people he was supposed to rescue, as well as his own crew. He had no idea where that would leave him. Even if he passed the physical, a random episode like tonight could make the difference between life and death.
Snowed in with the Firefighter (Shadow Creek, Montana) Page 9