by Zoe Chant
The snow was coming down in a soft curtain now, too thick to see even to where the driveway curved. Patricia's car was already blanketed in nearly a foot of snow. "Oh gosh, it's pretty," she said. "Like a dream." Lee was close behind her, smelling like sex and forest and wildness, and he was part of the whole crazy dream.
He put his hands on her shoulders–hands, strong hands, sexy hands, and said in a voice like chocolate, "I suspect you are stuck here for a little while, at least."
"Papa! Papa!"
Clara's voice from down the hall had them scrambling apart. Lee dressed himself so swiftly that Patricia was still trying to figure out what to do with her own hands when he was back in his clothing and striding out the door.
"Miss Patricia brought me home!" Clara said enthusiastically when they met in the hallway, her blonde curls rumpled from her nap. "And it's snowing white! It never snowed white at home!"
Patricia chuckled. "It didn't snow white?"
"Only gray! Everything was dirty!" Clara seemed utterly nonplussed to find that her teacher was still there, hair still damp from a shower, and took her hand with authority. "Can I need a snack and go play in the white snow?"
"I think that's a remarkably good idea," Lee agreed. "Let's go show Miss Patricia the kitchen."
Chapter Eight
LEE AND PATRICIA WALKED with Clara between them down the stairs and back to the sprawling kitchen. He couldn't keep himself from glancing over, watching the profile of her smiling face as she entertained Clara's endless prattle.
His mate.
There was bone-deep contentment just being close to her, knowing that she was his. All of his earlier concerns and worries were swept away in the simple peace of her presence.
Her delight in the kitchen was almost (but not quite!) as rewarding as her delight in his body had been. Clara gave her a gabby tour, opening every cabinet in her reach and pointing out all of the others.
"The blender is there, I'm not allowed to touch it and it's very loud. That's a mixer! I'm allowed to play with the plastic things in here."
Patricia was a rapt audience. "Oh, that's lovely! What a beautiful plate! Such soft towels!"
She said more seriously to Lee, "This kitchen is a cook's fantasy, Mr. Montgomery. If I had designed my dream kitchen straight from scratch, it could not have been more perfect." She actually squealed a little when she saw the heavy-duty mixer.
"I've never used it, but I asked our cook to make a list of everything he wanted in a kitchen," he explained, half-apologetically as he stacked up a few dirty dishes from lunch that he hadn't washed yet.
"Your cook had excellent taste," Patricia said, with delight.
"In all things but choosing to stay in the city," Lee agreed. "We'll have a housekeeper in a few weeks, I hope," he added apologetically, aware of his dirty lunch dishes and the sawdust footprints he had tracked into the kitchen.
Clara got herself a plate with a pile of peanut butter and an apple, which Patricia cut into careful wedges for her, exclaiming over the high-quality chef's knife. Clara settled herself in the booster cushion at the kitchen table.
"There is a formal dining room," Lee explained. "But we're still waiting for the dining set to be delivered."
When Clara had finished eating, graciously sharing her last two slices with Lee and Patricia, she insisted on showing Patricia the rest of the house.
Their last stop was after a full circle back to the dining room. "We'll eat here when we have a table," Clara explained, tugging Patricia through the doorway. Lee followed them. "This is my favorite room! Except for my own room. And Papa's room. And the kitchen."
"I can see why," Patricia said without sounding patronizing. It was a big, empty room with a hardwood floor. The only furniture was a built-in sidebar and a single padded bench that had been put there temporarily. "It's such a lovely, big room. It's perfect for dancing! I bet you dance here all the time."
Cornflower eyes blinked up at her. "I don't know how to dance."
"Don't know how to dance?" Patricia looked genuinely alarmed at the idea. "How can you not know how to dance?"
"I never took classes for it." Clara looked at Lee for guidance.
Patricia's laugh was reassuring. "You don't need classes, sweetheart! You just dance from inside! Everyone is born knowing how to dance!" She held out her hand to Clara. "Come dance with me!"
Clara hung back. "There isn't any music," she said, but she looked hopeful, and interested. It gave Lee a pang of guilt. Perhaps he should have insisted on lessons earlier.
Patricia pulled her phone out of her pocket, opened the music program, and put it on the sideboard. The music was terribly tinny, and it sounded like an old-time radio. She offered a hand to Clara.
This time, Clara took Patricia's hand, and a slow smile bloomed on her face. "Can Papa dance, too?"
"Of course he can!" Patricia met Lee's eyes with dancing mischief and held out her other hand to him.
"Oh, no, I..."
Patricia was already pulling Lee into the middle of the room.
"No, really, I can't..."
"It isn't rocket science," Patricia promised laughingly. "You just move around to the beat!"
Clara was willing to do what he was willing to do, so Lee followed Patricia's lead obediently, suspecting at once that she was making things more ridiculous than they needed to be. They bounced and wiggled and twisted their hips–shy at first and awkward, then looser and more joyous to match Patricia as she teased and encouraged them.
They did silly moves–twist and the moonwalk–and Patricia showed Clara the first two ballet positions to a pop version of the nutcracker.
The phone went to a slow ballad, and Patricia showed Clara how to waltz with her little bare feet on Patricia's bare feet.
Delighted, Clara danced a round of the room with Lee in the same fashion, and then gave him over to Patricia expectantly.
Lee took one hand and put his other at her waiting waist, suddenly feeling awkward. "I really don't dance," he protested, despite their antics of moments ago.
"Not on my feet, you don't," Patricia laughed at him. Her cheeks were bright with exertion, and her hair was drying from her shower in soft, golden waves around her face.
She led him patiently around the room, praising his rhythm, and correcting his form. He stumbled over her feet several times, but she only laughed off his apologies. He grew braver as they danced, holding her closer and finding it easier to sway to the beat. The smell of her, and the warmth of her close against him filled him with contentment and joy.
He could have continued to hold onto Patricia much longer, but Clara wanted another turn balanced on his feet, and he carefully cavorted her around the room again, feeling more effortless about it with every bar of music.
Finally, Lee and Patricia collapsed together on the bench by the wall. The intimacy and energy of the dancing made it natural to sit leaning close together, and he wove his hand into hers without thinking about it. Clara continued to jump and spin in giddy delight.
"Never danced!" Patricia said, shaking her head in astonishment. "You're a natural," she praised.
"I want to dance for always," Clara said, pure joy in every line of her body.
Lee didn't realize he was scowling or squeezing Patricia's hand too tightly until he caught her quizzical look, but he wasn't prepared to explain why the simple statement hit him so hard.
"It's almost time for dinner," he deflected.
"Can Miss Patricia stay for dinner?" Clara stopped dancing and asked, her voice already taking on a whine in preparation for a fight.
"Miss Patricia is stuck here for the night, sweetie," Lee explained. "There's too much snow outside for her to drive home." He gestured at the window, where the evening gloom had a strange snowy brightness.
Clara squealed in absolute delight, flinging herself into Patricia's lap for a big hug and then leaning across her for a bonus hug from Lee. "She can stay in Aunt Bella's room," she suggested happily, sprawled bo
nelessly across their laps with the ease of a small child.
"Yes, of course," Lee and Patricia said in unison, just a little too fast. They glanced at each other and Lee felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Her answering smile was a delicious promise of things to come.
Lee had never been so grateful to the weather.
"Let me cook for you?" Patricia offered, untangling her fingers from Lee's. "As a thank you for your... hospitality." She blushed beautifully.
Chapter Nine
PATRICIA HAD NOT EXAGGERATED her appreciation for Lee's kitchen. Everything was thoughtfully laid out on broad counters. A whole series of beautiful knives, perfectly sharpened, was just out of easy child's reach, and she had her choice of gorgeous hardwood cutting boards.
She found a beautiful set of high-end spices, and was unsurprised that none of them except the garlic had been unsealed. The refrigerator revealed a gallon of milk and a wealth of condiments, but few useable perishables. A few plastic take-out containers were stacked in one corner. An investigation of the pantry discovered a selection of canned vegetables, pastas, and staples. Patricia suspected by their perfect organization that they had not been touched. An untidy row of macaroni and cheese boxes suggested what they usually ate.
After puzzling over the ingredients for a while, Patricia put together a spaghetti sauce from a can of tomatoes, some frozen breakfast sausages, and a sad forgotten bell pepper from the bottom of the crisper. Clara danced around her feet while she cooked, asking to see and smell everything, and Lee sat at the table, watching her move around the kitchen with unsettling–but strangely comfortable–attention. She boiled the noodles, and toasted garlic toast under the broiler.
He set the table, with Clara's help, and when she set the plates in front of them, they both gushed their pleasure and delight. She sat at the third space at the table, and they merrily shared the meal together.
"I had no idea there was anything so... edible that could be made from these ingredients," Lee confessed, mopping the last of his sauce from the plate. "I'm not sure how to thank you."
Patricia loved how relaxed his face was. There was no trace of the scowl that seemed to be his usual default expression with other people, only warm smiles and dancing blue eyes. "Maybe tomorrow you can make me pancakes," she suggested. She smiled at Clara. "I've heard so much about them."
"It's a deal," Lee said.
Sharing in Clara's night time routine seemed perfectly natural. The little girl had her own mermaid-themed bathroom, with a shell-shaped tub just her size. After a bath heaped with bubbles, she toweled herself off and insisted that it was Miss Patricia who helped her into her fuzzy-footed pajamas.
"I wish I had footy-pajamas with kitties on them," Patricia said with only mostly-mock envy.
"What do you sleep in?" Clara asked innocently.
Patricia had to bite her lip and studiously not look at Lee. She couldn't exactly admit she liked to sleep naked.
Lee didn't help matters. "Good question, Sweetie," he said, straight-faced. Humor danced in his eyes. "What DO you sleep in, Miss Patricia?"
Patricia was beginning to suspect that there was pure mischief behind the scowl that Lee had cultivated. Well, two could play that game. "Not a stitch," she admitted brazenly, looking right at him. "I figure if I can't wear fuzzy-footed kitty-cats, why wear anything?"
Clara seemed nonplussed by the idea, but Patricia took great glee in watching the tips of Lee's ears turn pink.
It was Lee that tucked Clara into bed, and Patricia retreated to the hall so they could read their favorite book together and share a quiet, murmured conversation before Lee pulled the covers up to her chin, kissed her on the brow, and turned off her bedside light.
He shut her door with a careful click, and Patricia's heart melted at the tender look on his face. He loved that little girl more than the moon. The look didn't fade as he held Patricia's gaze, and the moment grew more tense.
Patricia found herself blushing. "This is... er... familiar. Didn't we do this just this afternoon?"
"I hope we'll do this many more times," Lee said, voice husky as he gathered her into his arms and kissed her.
Patricia's heart leapt in her chest at the idea. He wanted to see her again! This wasn't a one-freak-snowstorm affair, but maybe something more... She caught herself short at the idea. Just because he wanted to continue their relationship didn't indicate he meant that relationship as more than just a comfort of the body. She was probably just... convenient.
"I think you should get into what you sleep in, too," Lee suggested, and his kiss slipped down to her neck. Patricia stopped thinking about pesky relationship thoughts and let him lead her down the hallway to his bedroom.
"Won't I be sleeping in Aunt Bella's room?" she suggested mischievously, pausing at his door.
Lee drew back from kissing her and scowled in a now-familiar way. "Do you want to sleep in Bella's room?"
Patricia wrapped her arms around his neck. "Not in the slightest," she laughed at him.
To her astonishment, he picked her up, without the slightest hint of effort, and carried her to his waiting bed, nudging the door shut behind him with one foot.
He undressed her efficiently, but paused at each layer of clothing. "Is this what you sleep in?" he would ask.
Patricia pretended to consider it. "A little bit less," she encouraged.
He kissed her, wherever was closest, and peeled off another layer. Patricia couldn't decide if she was glad for the Midwest winter encouraging her to wear so many layers, or if she cursed it.
But the time he got to her underwear, she was quivering with anticipation and desire. He slid a finger into the waistband. "Is this what you sleep in?" he asked, mouth close to her stomach.
"A little bit less," Patricia said breathlessly.
He drew off the simple white underwear–she was too distracted to wish she had dressed with more care that morning, but how could she have anticipated this kind of a snow day!–and kissed her mound, tongue flickering inside her and making her arch up in an agony of desire and need.
"Oh, Lee," she said, and she loved the way his simple name tasted in her mouth almost as much as she loved the way he felt teasing her with his tongue.
He coaxed a long, delicious orgasm from her with his lapping thrusts, and when she could see straight again, Patricia tipped up on her elbows and demanded, "And what do you plan on sleeping in, Mr. Montgomery?"
Lee pulled his shirt off with one deft move. "I like your choice of attire," he said with a slow, sexy smile.
Patricia helped him pull off his pants and free the erection that she'd been dying to see again. She wrapped bold fingers around it, and delighted in the involuntary gasp that he gave. She stroked it gently, and explored it with fingertips, observing which motions set his jaw to clenching, curious to see how much teasing he could take.
He growled at her, finally, and tilted her back onto the waiting bed with a slow, tender pressure.
Patricia lifted her hips to meet him, and he slipped into her waiting entrance, filling her slowly, irresistibly, until she cried out and clawed at the blankets in an agony of delight.
He brought her to orgasm, then slowed as the ripples of pleasure ebbed away, thrusting gently and smiling in self-satisfaction as she recovered. She had to laugh at his expression, then pulled him down and tumbled sideways with him until she was on top and could take control of the situation herself. There was so much strength in him, that he had to let her do it, and she was equal parts delighted by this and challenged by it.
She straddled him with authority, riding him enthusiastically, but careful not to let him get too close to release. He held her waist, explored her swinging breasts, and even reached up to cradle her face as they pulsed together. Patricia forgot her plan to keep him thirsting for her, and lost herself in the flames of passion, cresting to another orgasm just as he sped up and took his own final pleasure, hot seed erupting in her.
They lay together, gasping for
breath and balance, for a long, delicious moment. He continued to caress her, bringing the lovemaking to a beautiful trailing end that Patricia had never known could be.
"Tell me about yourself," Lee said, stroking her hair. "I want to know everything."
Patricia stirred so that she could look at him in surprise. This wasn't the kind of intimacy she had expected from him. It wasn't the sort of opening that usually came with casual sex. She squashed the idea that he might be thinking about something more than casual sex. That would be ridiculous.
"I grew up in Green Valley," she said finally. "A country girl to the heart. I went to the twin cities for college, took some dance classes, got a teaching degree, had to come running back."
"You took dance?"
Patricia wasn't sure how she should take the surprise in his voice. "Not that you'd know it from our dancing this evening, I know," she laughed sheepishly, choosing humor over getting offended, though it occurred to her that it would be easy to take his words the other way. "I don't have the figure for it, of course, but I love the art."
Lee was quiet, so Patricia had to fill the silence with something or think too hard about what couldn't possibly be.
"I started the Hands and Hearts Preschool after a few years of teaching middle school. There's not much of a market for it, of course–I've only got eight full-time students this year, and that's two more than last. It doesn't do much more than hire Andrea and pay the classroom rent, so I waitress on the side. I'd make more at Hardy's, but the skirts they make the staff wear there wouldn't reflect well on being a preschool teacher, so I work at the cafe."
She was babbling about money again, Patricia realized. Before she could stop herself, she had asked, "What about you? You aren't just a construction worker with McDonald Company."
Chapter Ten
LEE TRIED NOT TO SQUIRM. He had known this question was coming, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Money was one of those tricky subjects that seemed to embarrass her when she brought it up, and while he knew that she didn't have much of her own, he knew that earning her own was a matter of pride. "No," he admitted.