by Jill Shalvis
“I’m fine.” She swiped the rain out of her eyes and appeared to gnash her back teeth together. She was soaking wet, and looked cold, miserable, and mad at the world, including Stone. “I was trying to avoid Bambi.”
Harley shook her head as she wrapped the chains around the Sinclair truck. “First rule of the Sierras. Never swerve to avoid an animal. It’s survival of the fittest out here.” She struggled with a clamp on the chains, and TJ moved in.
When their hands touched, Harley jerked back and shot him a glare, which TJ ignored, muscling her out of the way to do her job.
With temper making her ears red, Harley jumped into her truck and the two of them worked silently together to pull Emma’s truck out of the ditch. It was like watching an old silent movie, no words necessary since the seething tension between the two of them spoke for itself.
“They go way back,” Stone said to a shivering Emma.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
Hiding his concern, he shrugged out of his denim jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Take it,” he insisted when she opened her mouth to protest, pulling the fleece lined hood up and over her head, using the excuse to touch her. He’d come to see her again, since he hated how she’d left last night, but now he was very glad he had because she needed him.
And she didn’t need easily. “You’re shivering.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. Come here,” he said, and pulled her in his arms to try to warm her up.
Emma hadn’t even noticed how cold she was until Stone had pointed it out, and then she’d realized that she was shaking rather violently. And there was a funny pain in her chest—not funny good but funny bad. “I’m fine,” she repeated as he hugged her very carefully, as if she were a fine piece of china. “I’m just annoyed that you’ve caught the stupid city girl getting stuck.” Annoyed and embarrassed.
“It’s okay to be stupid once in a while.”
“Really? Does this ever happen to you?”
‘Well, no.”
She was still shivering like crazy, and that made her mad too, just as it also made her want to burrow even closer, which didn’t help. Not one little bit. “Everything’s so easy for you.” She told herself to let go of him but she didn’t listen. “Well, here’s a memo for you, life isn’t easy.”
“No,” he agreed, sweeping a hand up her back, his smile gone. “Life sure as hell isn’t. But you make of it what you can, and you do your best to enjoy the hell out of it, because it’s the only life you get.” He turned her toward the truck, which was out of the ditch now—thanks to Harley and TJ.
Not saying another word, Stone reached across her to open the door for her.
There was no reason for her to feel like a complete ass, yet she did. With as much dignity as she could manage, she thanked Harley, arranged to go by the shop later to pay her, and then hopped up into the truck, the movement giving her a bad moment. Her ribs were killing her.
Her own fault.
Just as she put the truck in gear, the passenger door opened and Stone got in, as drenched as she. His hair was plastered to his head, little rivulets of water raining down his jaw. His eyes seemed darker, the lashes inky black and spiky with rain water. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I had a choice.” He plopped his big, wet body into the seat. Having given her his jacket, his t-shirt was sculpted to his chest. His jeans were plastered to him as well, the soft, worn, drenched denim lovingly molding to his hips, his thighs, the intriguing bulge behind his button fly—
She jerked her gaze up to his eyes, and met his wry ones. “Choice?”
“Between being a referee for TJ and Harley, or…” Leaning forward, he flicked the heater on high. “Figuring out how badly you’re really hurt.”
She hugged herself and her aching ribs. She was having trouble keeping her eyes off him, which was odd since she’d seen all there was to see last night. “I’m not.”
“Do you want me to drive?”
Yes. More than she could say, but that would be admitting defeat, and she never admitted defeat.
“I swear I won’t write the feminist police,” he said dryly.
She sighed. “It’s not that. If I let you drive, I’ll never be able to face this road again.”
He looked at her, something new coming into his eyes in addition to the irritation—approval.
It was unexpected, and washed over her like a welcome balm, whether she liked it not. For the record, she didn’t. She didn’t like it at all. She swiped at the water running out of her hair and into her eyes, a movement which hurt, dammit. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he said.
That was another difference between them. She would never have left herself so wide open. What if she wanted to know how many lovers he’d had, or the last time he’d cried? “You were right about what you said before. How we only get one life, how we need to handle it right. So I guess what I want to know is…” She paused. Talk about putting herself out there, but it was too late to go back now. “Are you happy? Here? With what you do for a living?”
He let out a low sound that might have been a laugh, and scrubbed a hand over his face before he leaned back and looked at her. Water was running down his face too, in little rivulets. “I guess I thought whatever question you could possibly have for me might be a whole lot easier to answer than that one.”
“So you’re not? Happy?”
“Oh, I am. I get to work with my brothers, when they’re around. I’m my own boss, which actually isn’t quite as fun as it should be. I get to do the outdoor stuff I love to do, but…” He breathed out heavily and leaned forward to crank the heater up. “Sometimes I’d like to also do something else as well, not for Cam or TJ, but for me.”
“Like?”
“Come on. Do you really want to know this?”
“Actually, yes. Maybe I like knowing I’m not the only one who wishes things were different. Misery and company and all that.”
He arched a brow. “I almost thought you cared there for a minute.”
“Maybe I do care.”
“You have a lot of maybes going on.” His eyes were steady on hers. “I used to do some renovating and I want to get back to it. I want to restore one of the historical buildings in town, top to bottom.”
“Yourself?”
“I like the work, like using my hands to fix things up.”
Besides the fact that she had firsthand knowledge that he was excellent with his hands, she worked with her hands and she got it. “I can understand the appeal of that.”
His smile was small, but warmed her nevertheless. “Thought you might.”
She thrust the truck into drive, took a deep breath, which tweaked her ribs and gave her a jolt of pain as she eased back onto the road. The rain was still coming down in droves. Every bump was agony on her ribs, not that she’d admit it to the man sitting next to her.
For his part, Stone didn’t say a word, just sat there filling up the passenger seat of the cab with his big, tough, rangy body, until about a mile down the road when she hit another bump and just about died.
“Okay, stop.”
Instincts had her doing just that. “What?” She whipped her head from one side of the road to the other, looking for trouble. “Another deer?”
“Scoot over, toward me.” Before she could move, he shifted closer on the bench seat, his hands going to her hips, lifting her as he slid beneath her to switch positions without getting out into the rain. There was one breathless heartbeat at the halfway point, with him under her and her straining above him, when her bottom ground into his crotch.
She didn’t mean for it to happen, she sincerely doubted he meant for it to happen, but it did, and the two of them went utterly still.
She had no idea what he was thinking in the moment, but she knew what she was thinking.
Sweet Jesus.
The small, inarticulate sound that escaped her see
med to galvanize him into action and he lifted her over to the passenger seat, as he landed in the driver’s seat. For a minute, he stared straight ahead, hands on the wheel. The inside of the cab was warm and humid from their wet bodies. The windows were closed and a little fogged up.
It felt close. Intimate.
With fingers that weren’t quite steady, Stone shoved his wet hair out of his face and let out a very long, low breath. “That keeps happening.”
She didn’t ask what. She knew exactly what. The bolt of sexual awareness between them that packed a punch of, oh about a million watts. She let out a shaky breath of her own. “I thought we’d be over it after last night.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “No.”
“Maybe…maybe it’s just the altitude.”
He let out a mirthless laugh and drove the rough roads with a smooth ease that didn’t escape her. She was good at being a doctor, she’d made sure of that. But as she kept noticing, he was good at all the life stuff. The important stuff.
She could admit that when she’d first come to Wishful, she might have imagined herself just a little above it all. Above them. But both the town and the people in it had proven her wrong.
On every score.
“You can stop blaming yourself,” he said quietly without looking at her. “This road is really hard to handle in the heavy rain or snow.”
She turned to face him, watching as a lone drop of rain slid down his temple. “You read minds?”
“I read yours easily enough, apparently. You’re mad at yourself.”
“And you. Let’s not forget that.”
“Why me?”
“Because you make the drive look easy.”
“I’ve been driving it since I was fourteen.”
That effectively took her mind off being cold, wet and hurting like hell. “You’re not supposed to drive until you’re sixteen.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t have a lot of supervision in those days.”
She’d left Wishful far too young to remember him or his brothers, or to even know their story. “Where was your mother?”
“Gone.” Keeping his eyes on the road, he lifted a shoulder. “She had three little boys, then decided life was too hard out here.” He glanced over, his eyes reflecting the knowledge that they had that in common.
But her mother had at least taken Emma with her.
His mother had walked away from him and his brothers. She couldn’t even imagine how incredibly devastating that must have been. “That’s just so wrong.”
“Agreed.”
“What about your father?”
“He was a mean drunk who only paid attention to us when we were bad—which we were a lot. We were as wild as they came.”
“Which explains how it is that you were driving so young.”
He flashed a short smile. “Yeah. So do you drive in New York?”
“No.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I have my license,” she said a little defensively. “I made sure to get that when I was eighteen.”
“I’m sure you did.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re a thorough woman, Emma. You like to cover all your bases. You probably studied hard for your test, passed it with flying colors, and keep your license renewed even though you don’t drive.”
“Yes,” she said, not liking how amused he sounded. “I don’t see why that’s funny. It doesn’t hurt to be careful, to be organized and on top of things.”
“Thing is, Emma, as you pointed out, life isn’t easy. And it’s sure as hell not black and white. Being on top of things doesn’t always count. Your father would be the first to tell you that.”
Well if that didn’t make her feel even more defensive. “My father isn’t big on telling me anything.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“He’s trying to fix his by having me out here. I know that.” She thought of her mom, and more than physical pain stabbed through her. “I just don’t think that he gets that it’s not the right way, not for me. I don’t want to resent being here, but…”
“But you do. You’re tired of treating the flu, and wayward cats. Who, by the way,” he added with a smile, “gave birth to four adorable, wayward kittens last night. Annie named the first one Emma. She has your eyes.”
She snorted and put her head back against the headrest, casually setting her hands on her aching ribs for support. “That’s nice.”
His gaze cut to her hands, though he didn’t say a word about her ribs. “But you still don’t want to be here.”
“I can’t seem to help it. Being here reminds me of my mom.” She hated that her voice cracked.
“You miss her,” he said very softly, taking his gaze off the road for a beat, offering her the sympathy that tripled her pain.
It took her a minute to speak. “So much.”
Reaching out, he squeezed her hand, and she cleared her throat. “I just want to go back to my world,” she told him. “Where I’m in control. My mom liked to be in control. I guess I got that from her.”
“How’s your stepfather taking it?”
She shrugged, which shot pain through her. Note to self: stop moving. “He left on a world cruise after the funeral. He needed to get away. It must be working because he hasn’t been back.”
“So you’ve been by yourself?”
“I’m a big girl, you know,” she said wryly. “I’ve lived on my own from the day I went off to college.”
“Sure, but it’s nice to have family around. You’ve been without.”
“I manage to keep busy enough.”
“That’s not what I mean. Everyone needs a support system, Emma. People they can count on.”
“I have friends.”
“Spencer.”
Again their gazes met as he pulled into the Urgent Care’s lot. “Yes,” she agreed. “Spencer. And others.”
Stone turned off the truck, handed her the keys, then surprised her by getting out into the rain with her. She started to run through the downpour to the building, but the small movement sent fire along her torso and slowed her down. When she came to a stop on the top step, she pressed her hands to her chest as spots swam in her vision. Dammit.
With a low oath, he took her keys from her hands. “Easy,” he murmured, and unlocking the door for her, very gently nudged her inside.
They entered the reception area together, dripping water all over the floor as she realized he was now stuck here without a way home, which showed her just how little she’d been thinking in the past half hour. “I’m sorry. I’ll drive you—”
“I’ll call TJ for a ride.” But instead of doing that, he came at her. “In a minute.”
He was big and tall and wet, and not looking nearly as laid-back and easygoing as she was used to as he reached behind her and locked them in.
“What—”
“Let’s go.” He took her hand and pulled her down the hall to the first examination room, nudging her up against one of the tables. “Let’s see,” he murmured. “How did you get started with me? Oh, yeah.” He smiled grimly. “Strip.”
Chapter 17
Emma let out a laugh that sounded jittery and nervous to her own ears, but that was bound to happen when a gorgeous, wet guy
