Like Fresh Fallen Snow

by Tara Wyatt

He cut into the steak the waiter had set down in front of him, and he closed his eyes briefly as the flavor of the tender meat hit his taste buds.

  Damn. The steak alone was worth putting a suit on for.

  “So when do we get to come visit you in Seattle?” asked Christie in her cute Southern accent, a piece of lobster dripping with butter on the end of her fork.

  “Give me a few weeks to get settled, and then yeah. Come on out. Bring your umbrellas.”

  “It sucks that you’re leaving, but I’m happy for you, man.” Luke clapped him on the shoulder. They were only twelve minutes apart in age, and they’d never lived more than twenty miles from each other. Leaving his brother, and his nephew, Luke’s eight-year-old son Ethan, behind, was the hardest part of the move. But they could come visit, and he needed a change.

  A familiar, sweet laugh mingled with the music and he turned in his seat, heat prickling down his spine.

  It was her. His Ellie, standing on the other side of the room near the bar, smiling and nodding at a man. But from her body language, Matt could tell she wasn’t interested in the conversation. Her shoulders were squared away from the guy, and she was listening politely, but she wasn’t engaged in what he was saying, not tilting her head, not leaning toward him. And yet the guy, who just kept talking and talking at her, didn’t seem to notice. Her long, blond hair hung in thick waves over her shoulders, and her lovely curves were emphasized by a blue dress that clung in all the right places.

  Matt watched as the man put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and spoke into her ear. He took in the rigid line of her spine, and the lightning speed and nervous laugh with which she extricated herself, pushing her sexy glasses back up her nose. Her eyes darted around the room, as if she were searching for an escape.

  Before he was even fully aware of what he was doing, he’d pushed his chair back from the table.

  * * *

  God. Lionel Hutz would’ve been better. Granted, just about anyone would’ve been better than Baron von Grabbyhands, but still. Yikes.

  “And that’s the great thing about the law, you know?” It was a question, but Victor didn’t wait for her to respond, barreling into a story about how many billable hours he’d racked up over the past year. Ellie smiled and nodded, staring vacantly at his constantly moving mouth. He really was attractive. Swoopy blond hair, strong jaw, nice teeth. Tall. Big hands. All things she typically liked, but Victor was so incredibly self-absorbed that his personality ruined the entire package. With the right costume, he could’ve done a fair impression of Westley from The Princess Bride. Until he opened his mouth, at least. He’d dominated the conversation over dinner as well, and even though Lauren had valiantly tried to steer the conversation back into more inclusive waters, her efforts had been in vain. By the end of the meal, Ellie had given up trying to participate in the conversation, sitting back to enjoy her dinner and the party around her while Trevor kept shooting her apologetic smiles.

  “Don’t you think?” Victor asked, touching her arm.

  Almost unconsciously, she shrugged and moved her arm away from him. “Uh huh. Yep.” She nodded and he looped an arm around her and pulled her toward him. She took a step back and scanned the room, praying for Lauren or Trevor or someone to come bail her out. She’d already used the ladies’ room excuse. Twice. He reached for her hand and she moved it away, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off her dress.

  “You know what I like about running Crossing the Streams?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He took a sip of his scotch and squinted at her, as though he were unsure what to do now that the conversation had moved away from his interests. “That you get to do what most people would consider a hobby for a living?”

  She frowned, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing what to say, when suddenly a strong arm slid around her waist. Her mouth went dry and her stomach exploded with butterflies as she found herself hip-to-hip and face-to-face with Matt. Matt, who had traded his tan police uniform for a dark blue suit, paired with a light blue shirt and silver tie that emphasized the startlingly bright blue of his eyes. A smile creased his face, and the nerve endings in her body buzzed with awareness as he pulled her a little closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and she willed her body to behave. It was amazing, the sharp contrast in the way she responded to Matt’s touch compared to Victor’s. It was like comparing chocolate to cabbage; both were food, but that’s where the similarities ended.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Matt winked at her, leaving his arm around her waist, which was just fine with her. She steeled herself against swaying into him and running her hands over his wide chest, which seemed to be what every single cell in her body wanted her to do.

  Victor frowned and pointed a finger at Matt. “You know him?”

  A lightness filled her and she smiled at Victor. “I do. This is Matt, and I owe him a drink.” She turned her gaze to Matt, whose fingers flexed into her waist, just slightly, and heat curled over her hips and down her thighs.

  He held up the half-empty beer glass in his free hand. “I already have a drink, but I’ll take a dance.” He tipped his head at Victor. “It was nice meeting you.” Without waiting for Victor’s response, he led her away through the crowd and toward the dance floor. He deposited his beer on a passing waiter’s tray before spinning her into him, tightening his arm around her waist and scooping up her hand in his. Tentatively, she slid her tingling palm up his arm and over his shoulder as her mind spun, scrambling for something to say. God, he made her feel so . . . so what?

  Hot. And bothered. Like she was going to jump out of her skin. Anxious and nervous, but in a deliciously exhilarating way.

  “So that’s twice now,” she managed, trying not to stare at his face, at the way the shadows danced over his cheekbones and jaw. He had short, dark-blond hair, stick straight, thick, and soft looking, which had been hidden under his police hat earlier that day.

  He dipped his head down so he could hear her better, and the desire to bury her face in his neck nearly overwhelmed her. He smelled so good, like pine and warmth and man. A throb she hadn’t felt in a long time pulsed between her legs.

  “Twice what?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “That you’ve bailed me out. Are snowbanks and blind dates your specialty?”

  “Just doing my job, miss.” He winked at her again and her anxiety ratcheted up another notch as the realization that he was exactly the type of guy she’d promised herself she was going to avoid pushed into her brain. Ridiculously good looking. Stupidly charming.

  But she couldn’t resist flirting with him. “Is this the serving part or the protecting part?”

  “Little of both. Protecting you from boredom while serving my own interests.” The upbeat Frank Sinatra tune faded into a much slower one, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice floating over the crowd.

  “And what exactly are your interests?” Because surely Matt wasn’t really interested in her. God knew she’d be better off if he wasn’t, because he was not safe. Sweet as he seemed, he was exactly the type who would leave her feeling empty and alone. Lacking and insufficient. He was too hot, too charming, too . . . everything for her.

  The corners of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “You, Ellie, are my main interest right now.” He lowered his head even further, and his breath brushed across her ear as he spoke. “I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you here tonight.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears, blood rushing through her veins as a surge of adrenaline shook her to her core. “What do you mean?”

  “Digging your car out, I dreamt up a whole bunch of different ways to ask you out.”

  “You did?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. She thought she’d felt a connection, but she’d been unsure, and a surge of victory charged through her, inflating her confidence and chasing away some of her anxiety. God, he seemed so damned sincere. “What stopped you?”

  He lo
oked away, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. A hint of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on chased across his features, disappearing as quickly as it had come. He exhaled through his nose and smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not very professional to hit on ladies stranded at the side of the road.”

  She nodded slowly. “But hitting on ladies stranded on a disastrous blind date is peachy keen?”

  He leaned back, humor dancing in his eyes. “Peachy keen?”

  “Um . . .” It was all she could come up with before his lips brushed across her cheek, sending sparks shooting through her. His fingers teased along the small of her back, and pleasure flared all the way up her spine to the base of her skull.

  Oh, God, was she in trouble.

  * * *

  Matt’s conscience screamed at him to hit the brakes. What the hell did he think he was doing? He’d swooped in, stolen her away from her date and was now dancing with her, holding her warm, soft body against his and wondering how long he had to wait to kiss her. Midnight was still a couple of hours away, and he didn’t know if he could hold out that long. Pressed against her as he was, inhaling her scent of vanilla and cinnamon, he seriously doubted it. He closed his eyes briefly, stuffing down the urge to kiss her neck.

  He didn’t know what to do. Now, even more so than before, he knew he couldn’t have a one-night stand with her. She didn’t deserve that, and based on the cautious desire he saw shining in her eyes, he was pretty sure a one-night stand wasn’t what she had in mind. Disappointment—in himself, in the shittiness of their timing—wrapped itself around his heart.

  The music changed again, the slow song ending and giving way to a more upbeat Motown tune. He and Ellie stopped moving to the music, but neither one moved to let go of the other. He fought with himself, a tug of war between his conscience and his . . . well, every other part of him. He couldn’t explain it, but he just wanted her. To be around her, to touch her, to know her. It was both the simplest and most complicated feeling. Something about her had grabbed him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and it wasn’t letting go.

  “Thanks for saving me,” she said. “Again.”

  “You’re welcome. Again.”

  She bit her lip and looked at him, gratitude and something much deeper softening her features, and against his better judgment he jumped in with both feet. As soon as he did it, he knew it had always been what was going to happen.

  “Who are you here with? Besides, uh, Mr. Fantastic, of course.”

  She laughed, the sound tugging at his chest. “My friend and her boyfriend. Playing third wheel, as usual.”

  “Hey! Me too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her eyes widened slightly, a wide smile showing off her full lips.

  “Yeah. My brother and his girlfriend.” He tipped his head in the direction of their table, where, he noticed, they were watching him with intense interest.

  “Third wheels unite,” she said, and pulled her hand out of his. She clenched her fist and raised it, and he obliged, fist bumping her. And then, just when he couldn’t have been any more fucking smitten (a word that never, in his thirty-three years had ever applied to him) with her, she made an explosion sound effect and popped her fist open.

  She caught him staring at her. “It only counts if you explode it.”

  “Right.” Through the smile threatening to split his face in two, he made his own explosion sound effect and splayed his fingers. Before dropping his hand, he caught hers, weaving their fingers together. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his mouth, his words tumbled out in a rush. “Ellie, I’d love to buy you a drink and get to know you. Talk. Maybe dance some more. That okay with you? I mean, I know you’re here with your friends . . .” He shrugged.

  Her eyes crinkled behind her glasses as she smiled, warm and wide. “Let’s do it.”

  As he led her through the crowd to the bar, he expelled the breath he’d been holding. “So that was a blind date, huh?”

  She leaned forward against the bar, her elbows resting on the gleaming dark wood. “Yep. What gave away that it wasn’t going well?”

  He shrugged and raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention. “You.”

  “Me?” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and his fingers tingled, wanting to find out if her hair was as silky to the touch as it looked. “What do you mean?”

  “Glass of wine?” he asked. She nodded and he ordered their drinks before answering her question. “Your body language. You were turned away from him, and you kept looking around the room. When he tried to touch you, you politely kept your distance. Stuff like that.”

  “Jeez. You should be a detective or something.” She smiled and picked up her wine glass, clinking it against his beer in thanks.

  Guilt socked him right in the gut, and he tried to tamp it down with a big swallow of his beer.

  “Hey, there you are. I’m so, so sorry about Victor. I had no idea he’d turn out to be such an ass.” An attractive woman had appeared beside Ellie, her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Matt leaned forward, listening with interest.

  “I think ass is maybe too kind.” Ellie rolled her eyes, and a possessive kind of pride swelled in Matt’s chest.

  The woman’s eyes landed on him, and bright curiosity lit up her face. She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Ellie’s friend Lauren.”

  He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. Matt Grayson.”

  “Matt’s the police officer I told you about. The one who helped me out of the snowbank.” Ellie smiled at him, an adorable twist of her mouth to one side that made him instantly want to kiss her.

  You can’t kiss her until you tell her the truth. Doing it the other way around would be wrong.

  “Hey, Matt. Making friends?” Christie came up beside him, giving his arm a friendly squeeze. He didn’t miss the way Ellie’s eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of worry creasing her brow, just for a second, and damn if that didn’t make him feel ten-feet tall.

  “This is Lauren, and this is Ellie. This is Christie, my brother’s girlfriend.” As they all greeted each other, he saw Luke signaling to him, trying to catch his attention. He’d secured a larger table and was waving everyone over. Luke had always been more social than Matt, and he smiled wistfully as he remembered how annoying Luke had been when they were kids, always up for a party. He was going to fucking miss him.

  As they all made their way to the table, drinks in hand, he checked his watch. It wasn’t even ten yet. He still had time. But he had to tell her. She deserved to know the truth.

  Before midnight, he promised himself.

  Chapter 4

  As they settled in at the table, it hit Matt that this could be a terrible idea. It would be unfair to Ellie if Luke or Christie spilled the beans about his move before he had the chance to tell her himself. She didn’t deserve to find out that way.

  Ellie sat down beside him, and her movements stilled as she shook hands with Luke, her eyes zipping back and forth between him and Matt.

  “You’re identical?” she asked, still looking back and forth between them.

  “Yep.” Luke and Matt answered at the same time, in the exact same tone of voice. Luke leaned forward. “But I’m twelve minutes older.” Twelve minutes older, and easily distinguishable from Matt with his longer hair and permanent stubble.

  Ellie laughed. “Good to know.”

  He sat back in his seat, taking a deep breath. What, exactly, was he hoping to accomplish here? He’d already determined that Ellie wasn’t the kind of woman he could have a one-night stand with. He rubbed his chest as he thought of what it would be like to have her and then walk away the next morning.

  Thankfully, Trevor and Christie had discovered that they’d both gone to Tulane, and for now, the conversation was safely away from the topic of Seattle. Under the table, Ellie’s fingers laced with his, and he could’ve sworn that his heart literally skipped a beat. Shit. What was happening to him? He was buzzing, floating, and it had
nothing to do with alcohol. He’d only had the one beer, and he pushed his glass away, not wanting more. He didn’t want anything about this night to be fuzzy. He wanted to remember every single minute, every single second, every look, every gesture. Every touch. Wanted it all imprinted on his brain, because something was happening tonight. Something rare and impossible to explain.

  The conversation at the table continued, but he wasn’t paying attention. His sole focus was the feel of Ellie’s fingers between his, her small palm flush and warm against his. God, he wanted her. He couldn’t even fully explain why. Yes, she was pretty and cute and sweet. Funny and charming in a very accidental way. But it was more than that. There was something about her that made him feel awake and alive for the first time in—well, in years.

  He was half-hard just thinking about falling into bed with her.

  Trevor stopped mid-sentence as Victor lurched toward their table.

  “Hope you’re enjoying my date,” he slurred, his eyes stabbing daggers at Matt. Then he cut his eyes to Ellie. “I wouldn’t have tried so hard if I’d known you were this easy.”

  Matt slowly rose to his feet, not wanting to start a fight, but no fucking way was he going to let someone talk to his Ellie like he owned her.

  And yet you keep thinking of her as your Ellie and you barely know her.

  It didn’t feel like he barely knew her. Not at all. Which was both confusing and exciting at the same time.

  “You had a date, and it didn’t go well. End of story.” Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching them into fists.

  “It was going fine until you pounced. What’s wrong with you? Find your own date.” Victor’s hand landed on Ellie’s shoulder, and she shrugged away from him. Trevor stood and placed a hand on Victor’s back, clapping him in mock affection, a forced smile on his face. “Come on, Vic. Let’s go have a drink.”

  “I don’t want to have a drink. I want my date back, which was going perfectly fine until this asshole barged in.” He shoved a finger in Matt’s direction, spittle flying as he spat the words out.