by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, missy.
“So now it’s my turn,” Tate said in the dark.
Ella was too distracted by the pressure in her chest to realize it was time to protest.
“So after you pretty much kicked my ass to the curb,” he said, “you went to art school in Rhode Island, as you planned. I know from talking to your mother that you didn’t finish school, though. Why didn’t you finish, Ella?”
Nerves jumped in Ella’s stomach all over again, and she pressed her back firmly against the cool wall. She was going to kill her mother. Why had she even talked to him? “I lost interest.”
He was silent in the darkness, and she knew he didn’t believe her. But she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, now could she?
“So you left college and came to Holly, where you met a guy who owned a bar and decided that was your life goal? To run a bar in the middle of nowhere? How does that even happen?”
He wasn’t playing this game the way she wanted him to play it. He was asking rather than guessing. And her skin tingled because she didn’t know what to tell him. “There’s nothing wrong with running a bar.”
“No, there’s not,” he said carefully. “If you aren’t already an incredibly talented painter.”
“Maybe I don’t like painting anymore. Maybe after studying it in college, it just wasn’t fun anymore. Did you think of that?”
“No, I—”
“Maybe sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you plan, and you have to improvise,” she went on. “I know you think a couple of years is a long time to struggle, but some people struggle a lot longer than that. Life isn’t all about fancy parties and limos and yachts and celebrities, you know. Sometimes you end up in places you never planned. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with that.”
“I know,” he said softly. Close. Closer than he’d been before.
In a daze, she realized his hand was on her arm and that he was gently touching her. But her heart was beating too fast, her chest was rising and falling with her quick breaths, and she was trapped in all this plastic, so she couldn’t easily move away from him. And part of her didn’t want to move away from him because the feel of his hand on her arm was good…so good…even if she was covered in garbage bags. Which, in and of itself, was downright crazy.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” he said. “I just noticed that you don’t have any of your work hanging in the bar. And I was curious about why. You’re gifted, Ella. Makes me a little sad to think that you gave it all up.”
Her heart rate slowed, and her breaths evened out. But she still didn’t pull away from his touch when she knew she should. Because her thoughts drifted to the sketch she’d done of him sitting on that beach nine years ago, and she wondered if he still had it.
Probably not. Why would he have kept it? He’d moved on with his life. Even if he wouldn’t cop to being involved with anyone right now, she’d seen how he’d moved on.
His arm slid around her shoulder, and the movement was enough to jolt her thoughts back to the moment. She stiffened and leaned away. “What are you doing?”
“You’re shivering and, frankly, so am I. Our best chance to keep from freezing to death is to use body heat.”
A tremor ran down her spine, and she realized he was right. She was shivering. She’d just been so focused on her stupid thoughts and emotions, she hadn’t realized it. Though that didn’t mean she was okay with “body heat.”
“Come on, Ella. I don’t bite. Anymore, that is.”
A whisper of heat rushed through her as a memory flashed, of the two of them cuddling around a fire he’d made on the beach. His hands around her waist as she leaned back into him and stared at the flames, his lips moving gently along her neck. Her soft hum of approval when he’d licked a sensitive spot, then nipped at her skin until she’d moaned.
She swallowed hard. Knew she was playing with fire being this close to him. Tried to scoot away. But his arm was like a solid band of steel, keeping her close.
“I’m too tired to try anything tonight, anyway,” he said around a yawn. “Besides which, if I did, I wouldn’t put it past you to clock me with another bottle.”
That was true. She would. A little of her anxiety ebbed, and she relaxed against his arm. “I did get you pretty good, didn’t I?”
He chuckled, but the sound shifted, and she sensed he’d leaned his head back against the wall. “You did. I’m almost afraid to see the bruise.”
Her thoughts jumped to visions of his bare chest and strong shoulders and what he must look like now. And just that fast, her pulse sped up again.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly. His big hand landed against the side of her head and gently tugged her closer. “Hopefully, by the time we wake, someone will be down to rescue us.”
Ella didn’t have any choice but to lay her head against his chest. But as she drew in his familiar scent and felt the heat of his strong body seep into hers, she realized that even when they were found, there was no one who could rescue her. Because no matter how hard she’d tried to keep her heart locked off these last few years, one night with Tate Kendrick had suddenly kicked the stupid thing right into overdrive.
Chapter 3
Fingertips drifted over Tate’s bare shoulder and down his arm, then brushed his ribs, sending a shiver of heat all across his torso. He sighed and tipped his head to the side, wanting more of that warmth, more of that tantalizing touch, loving the soft glide of skin against skin and the way it brought his entire body to life.
Something smooth skimmed his abs, then a heavy weight pressed over his leg. He drew in a deep whiff of honey and vanilla. Two scents that told him he was dreaming. Two scents that made him desperate for more.
He grappled in the dark. Wrapped his hand around solid flesh. And shifted the fantasy around until she was cradled on his lap. A soft moan slipped from her lips. He grew hard and hot and achy beneath her. He nuzzled her neck, drawing in her scent again, getting lost in the familiarity of a dream he’d relived for nine long years.
Another moan. A shift of her weight over his. Then she was straddling him and breathing heavily against his neck, the heat between her legs settled right over his erection, begging him to rock up against her.
He wrapped his arms around her waist. Pressed his lips against her throat. Rocked just until he heard her moan again. Groaned himself when she pressed down against him. And loved this dream. Wished like hell it were real.
Shuffling echoed from above. Followed by a female voice saying, “Did you find her?”
The fantasy plastered against him stiffened.
Footsteps sounded against wood. Then hinges groaned. And another female voice, this one clearer, called, “Ella?”
The fantasy pushed against his shoulders. And as Tate blinked into the sliver of light coming down the stairs, he realized it hadn’t been a dream. Ella was straddling his hips in the dark, looking down at him with shock and confusion and the same damn arousal he felt deep in his bones.
“Oh my God.” She scrambled off him, stumbled, but found her footing. “Y-yes,” she called up the stairs, looking quickly away from him. “We’re down here!”
“Ella?” Kelly Evans exclaimed, moving down the old stairs. “What the heck happened last night?”
That was exactly what Tate wanted to know. He shifted against the wall, unable to stand because of how tight his jeans were at the moment, so he didn’t even try. Though it was too dark to see much, there was just enough light coming down from the open door to illuminate the garbage sacks strewn across the floor. Garbage sacks he didn’t remember pulling off him or Ella.
Ella brushed the auburn hair back from her face with stiff arms and tight shoulders that told Tate she was flipping the hell out over what they’d done. Or almost done. Right here on the cellar floor. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay. The power just went out and…”
Dressed in the pub’s standard uniform—black pants and a fitted white top�
��Kelly turned at the bottom of the stairs and reached for Ella’s hands. “When I came in and saw what happened upstairs, I went looking for you, only you weren’t in your apartment.”
“No,” Ella said. “I came down to— Wait. What do you mean about upstairs? What happened?”
“You didn’t see it last night? Oh, of course you didn’t. You didn’t go outside.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs again, and Tate looked up to see another woman, this one with shoulder-length, straight blonde hair, dressed in hip country boots, jeans, and a loose sweater, descending into the cellar. “Ella? Are you okay?”
Ella let go of Kelly and stepped toward the stairs. “Faith? What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Faith gave her a quick hug. “I came over to grab the ladder you borrowed for the new lights, and Kelly told me what happened and that she couldn’t find you.”
Tate’s brow dropped as he slowly pushed to his feet and eyed the three women, his arousal long gone.
Ella lowered her arms to her sides. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Faith finally noticed they weren’t alone. Her gaze skipped to Tate’s bare chest, and she stiffened.
On Ella’s other side, Kelly slowly smiled. “Well. At least now we know you were safe. And most definitely warm.”
A shiver ran down Tate’s spine, and for the first time since he’d awoken, he was aware of the cool air. He was also keenly aware of the way Ella’s shoulders tightened again.
“Um, Faith Nicholas,” Ella said, “this is Tate Kendrick.” To Tate, she said, “Faith runs the hardware store in town. He”—she looked back at Faith—“was staying on the third floor, thanks to someone”—her gaze skipped to Kelly—“who might not get her Christmas bonus this year. Tate came down just after I did to check on the power outage.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Faith flashed a curious smile.
Kelly focused on Ella. “It wasn’t a power outage.”
“I know.” Ella ran one hand through her long, dark hair. “One of the fuses is blown. We just couldn’t find a new one down here in the dark. Kendrick let the door shut and trapped us in here.”
“It’s not a blown fuse either,” Kelly said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I noticed it when I parked and came in this morning. The lines that run into the building are cut.”
“What do you mean cut?” Tate finally asked, stepping away from the wall.
“Cut, as in…cut,” Kelly answered, glancing over Ella’s shoulder toward him. “The pipe and cables that run to the meter box on the side of the building are sliced. Like with a chainsaw, I’m guessing. Someone purposely cut the power to this building. I already called my father. He’s on his way over.”
Ella turned and looked toward Tate, and he saw the quick flash of fear in her eyes before she angled away from him. “Shit.”
“I know,” Kelly said softly. “You’re going to need to call the police.”
Ella nodded once, then moved for the stairs. With one hand on the railing, she stopped and glanced back. “Did they clear the highway?”
“Yes,” Faith answered. “Landslide’s clear, and the road’s open again.”
Ella shot a look at Tate. And before the words were even out of her mouth, he knew what she was going to say. “Good. Then I guess you won’t be late for your gig in Miami.”
She jogged up the steps and disappeared, and as soon as she did, Faith and Kelly both stared at him with wide eyes.
“What was that all about?” Faith asked.
“I’m guessing that means things did not go so well,” Kelly said with a sigh.
No, they’d gone better than he ever could have hoped. As Tate looked up the stairs after Ella, he couldn’t stop one side of his mouth from ticking up in a smile. Even if she was freaking out right now, she still wanted him. He’d felt it when she’d been in that vulnerable state between sleep and consciousness, straddling his hips and rubbing against him. A woman who wasn’t the least bit interested didn’t do that—awake or asleep.
His smile faded when he thought about someone sabotaging Ella’s pub, though. He looked back at the women. “What’s going on here? Who would want to cut the power to this place?”
“I don’t know,” Faith answered.
Kelly flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Best guess is one of the buyers she keeps putting off.”
“She’s still going through with that?” Faith turned toward Kelly. “I thought she’d decided to stay.”
Kelly huffed. “She’s not staying. She just doesn’t have enough money to say yes yet. She’s stringing them along, hoping she’ll have what she needs in a few months.”
Ella was selling the bar? Tate looked between the women. “Where’s she planning to go?”
“The Keys,” Kelly answered. “She’s been wanting to sell since Kyle passed, but he left her with a lot of debt, and she couldn’t go until she could turn a profit on the bar for Gillian.”
“Her leaving is going to kill Gillian.” Faith sighed.
Tate was having trouble keeping up. “Who is Gillian?”
“Kyle’s mother.” Kelly crossed her arms over her chest. “She just loves Ella. Gillian was at her book club last night, which is the only reason you didn’t meet her. She’s at the bar most nights.”
It hadn’t occurred to Tate that Ella would have family around from the dead husband’s side, but this had been his bar, so it made sense. “Does she work here?”
“No,” Kelly answered. “She just likes to come over and mingle. I think it makes her feel closer to Kyle.”
“She won’t take any of Ella’s money.” Faith eyed her friend.
“I know.” Kelly frowned. “But you know how much Ella blames herself for the accident and taking Gillian’s only child away from her.”
“It was just that, though,” Faith said. “An accident.”
Tate wanted to ask more about the accident, but before he could, Faith added, “Why do you think one of the potential buyers would mess with the bar? They want a bar that works. Not one that has trouble.”
“They want her to sell,” Kelly answered. “I hate to think one of them could have done something like this, but she’s been stringing those buyers along for almost two years. I could totally see one of them getting antsy and trying to force her to sell.”
Faith frowned. “That would be pretty crappy, especially now. They have to know how tough this week is for her.”
Kelly pinned Faith with a hard look. “That’s why they would do it now. Everyone knows what a shitty week this is for Ella. If she ever had a reason to run, this week would be the reason.”
Tate’s confusion grew. “What do you mean about this week? And what happened in the accident for Ella to feel guilty?”
Faith glanced warily at Kelly. “He doesn’t know? I assumed if they were friends, he knew.”
“They’re not technically friends,” Kelly answered. “He’s the guy. You know, the one from before.”
Faith’s eyes grew wide with understanding as she looked back at Tate. “Oh!”
Tate took a step toward the women, his patience almost at the end of his grasp. “What about this week and the accident?”
“It happened this week,” Kelly said. “Kyle died on Christmas Eve.”
Crap.
“It was snowing that night.” Faith looked down at her hands. “The roads had been icy. We’d had a cocktail party here at the bar after it closed, to wish each other a merry Christmas. Ella didn’t live upstairs then. She and Kyle had a small house outside of town.” A sad expression slid across her face, and she shook her head.
“Ella was driving,” Kelly said quietly when Faith couldn’t finish. “Hit an icy patch and slammed into a tree. Kyle died at the scene. It was awful. Ella was hurt but walked away from the accident. Since her blood alcohol level wasn’t over the limit, she was never charged. But it’s weighed heavily on her ever since.”
O
h shit.
“Everyone said it was lucky they never had kids,” Faith said. “But I think that actually made it harder for both Ella and Gillian. Gillian couldn’t wait to be a grandmother, and Ella had just told me a week before the accident that she and Kyle were considering starting a family. It was all so sad.”
Tate looked up the empty stairs, things slowly starting to piece together in his mind. Ella’s coldness, the way she kept herself isolated from others, the way her mother had encouraged him to come to Holly. Images flashed behind his eyes—Ella with a family, Ella in that car on a snowy night, Ella alone in this bar.
“Kyle adored her,” Faith added. “And even though we all knew he wasn’t the love of her life, they were happy together. For a while. It’s really just so sad that she won’t take a second chance on love.”
Tate’s heart picked up speed, pumping faster with every passing second. He looked back at Faith, then to the stairs again. And in his head, he heard Ella’s voice from that long-ago summer they’d spent together, giggling as they’d rolled across the sheets in that motel room, telling him, “You are the love of my life, music man.”
“Ella has walked through this town like a zombie for two years,” Kelly said behind him. “The first time I saw even a spark of life in her was last night, when she spotted you in her pub. And I saw it again just a few minutes ago when she ran out of this cellar. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, Kendrick, but whatever it is, don’t let it die out. Ella needs some sparks in her life. She needs to live again. And something tells me you might be the one to help her do that.”
Tate looked back at the bartender, his heart beating even faster. No way was he letting anything die out. Not when he now knew there was still something smoldering between them. Something hot. Something special. Something that hadn’t faded, even after nine years apart.
He just had to find a way to convince Ella of the very same thing.
* * *
Ella signed the last of her payroll checks and clicked the end of her pen. It was almost time for the dinner crowd, and since Angela Smith had called in sick for her shift, Ella knew she needed to get down to the bar and help out. Though part of her just didn’t want to.