She closed her mouth and pressed her fingers to her temple. “It throbs every now and then. Nothing unexpected.”
“Do you know what to expect during a concussion?” he asked.
She grinned, as if just bringing up the incident helped the weight of it slip away. “No.”
“Just tell me if anything changes. Blurred vision, seeing spots—let me know, okay?”
She nodded and scooped a spoonful of chili to her lips. “How about seeing double? That’s okay, right?”
“Ha, ha,” he said dryly. “The twenty-four hours after impact is the most dangerous time for people with concussions. Don’t take anything for granted.”
“I won’t.” She smiled. “That’s my lame way of saying…thank you. For keeping an eye on me.”
“Like I said….”
“Least you could do,” she chimed in. “Since I saved Mitten at all. Poor Mitten. Did she know you were going to banish her to a boarding center for Christmas?”
“Ha! Banish her to a five star pet resort.” Daniel pulled out his phone and streamed in the footage of Joe’s Boarding House. A half-dozen dogs were nuzzling each other and playing fetch.
“Whoa—hey, if I’d known that was an option, I would have asked you to bring me there. Not too late, is it?” Suddenly she heaved in a breath and waved her hands in front of her eyes. He saw they were tearing up and she let out a half-laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.”
“What happened is the rug just got pulled out from under you.” He reached for her, but she waved him away.
“I’m not a crier, I swear.” She wiped at her eyes.
“I know,” he said, resisting the urge to lay a soothing hand over hers.
“You do?” She fixed him with a questioning look.
“It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.” But he’d say anything to wipe that sad smile from her face. “I remember you from the bookstore’s story hour. I had a pretty huge crush on you.” He smiled when her jaw practically hit her plate.
“I thought you transferred to Snow Creek in high school.”
“Nope, I grew eight inches before high school. I’ve been here forever. I remember you as this total bossy girl. I wasn’t sure if you bled red, much less cried.”
She laughed and buried her face in her hands, embarrassed. “I was kind of OCD about the books back then.”
“I liked being bossed around,” he admitted.
Her cheeks went warm. “You want to hear something funny? When I was stuck in the store and bored and after I’d read all the stories, I started to make up my own. They usually involved you.”
He pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows.
She nodded. “Daniel Hennessey! Small town hero.”
“I would have used Paul McAlester,” he said, smiling.
“He may have appeared in some of the weekend programming,” she admitted. “But you were the main event. Monday thru Fridays. Either you’d save me from the crumbling bookstore, or something else. It was pretty absurd. But it kept me going.” She smiled. “It really did make it easier for me.”
He stared at her quietly from across the table, and as the silence grew it seemed the space between them shrunk. Finally, he broke the tension with a grin and asked, “So who’s the better imaginary kisser, me or him?"
“Who said anything about kissing?” her voice squeaked.
“I didn’t kiss you in these fantasies?” He shook his head. “Imaginary me sucks. I’m going to have to have a talk with him.”
She rolled her eyes but felt herself smile.
***
The blizzard rolled in quickly and soon the view outside Daniel’s floor-to-ceiling windows was nothing but white-out. The news channel predicted it would clear up in the morning, but for the moment, Jessica felt like nothing in the world existed but Daniel’s cabin.
Of course that wasn’t true, as a quick email check revealed. Her vlog was already a big hit with people commenting from the various airports she’d covered. They were delighted to discover shopping, restaurants, and even museums they hadn’t known existed to entertain them within the airports.
Jessica had never even been on a plane.
She heard the pipes in the house kick on with a rusty groan, and tried her best not to picture Daniel taking a shower. Soon, however, her mind was swamped with images of water tracing rivulets down the planes of his perfect face and chest.
She swatted her own face and lay back on the couch, staring at the wooden ceiling beams. She needed a plan, a real life plan. She felt tears sting the corner of her eyes and inwardly chastised herself. Why should she get to cry when she’d put herself in this position?
She heard the water shut off and a few minutes later, Daniel came down the stairs. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tank, his Saint Christopher’s medallion around his neck, hair wet, green eyes shimmering.
“What are you doing on the couch?”
“Not sleeping yet,” she answered, pulling the throw blanket over her shoulders.
“You should be in bed.”
Jessica thought that restraining herself from jumping his bones should be applauded after that line, frankly. She pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders. “I’m fine. I’m not going to ruin a perfectly clean pair of sheets—hey!”
He reached over the back of the couch, slipped one hand under her knees and the other around her back, and hoisted her against him. For one second, she had nothing to say. She slid against his chest, her hands found their way around his neck, and she held on.
After a moment, though, she found her voice. “What is this? Me Jane, You Tarzan?” she said loudly enough to drown out her rapidly beating heart.
“This is Me Host, You Guest,” Daniel murmured.
His breathing had quickened and his arms were straining to hold her. Great, she was probably as heavy as a heifer. How mortifying. He reached the door to the guest bedroom and kicked it open. The door swung and hit the wall. Mitten yelped from the couch.
Daniel's hands tightened, one around her shoulder and the other around her knees, pressing into her soft skin. She had to brace a hand against his chest. She glanced at the bed and imagined the two of them in a tangle of sheets, those strong hands curving around her hips. All of a sudden she was scrambling her way out of his arms.
“Whoa, hey, whoa.” He let her go and backed away, his hands defensively up at his shoulders. “Careful. You could have hit your head again.”
“I am a grown woman,” she declared.
His gaze traveled up and down her body once, quickly. “I’m aware of that.”
“I make my own decisions!” she added.
“Yup.”
“And I’m sleeping in the couch.” She stormed past him, heart pounding, and dove onto the couch, sending Mitten bouncing up only to settle down and snuggle at her feet. Jessica tried to slow her breathing and closed her eyes.
She waited for him to argue, but there was only silence.
After a couple minutes, she heard rustling. She opened her eyes to see him standing over her, holding a pillow and a blanket. She lifted her head as he tucked the pillow under her neck, then laid the blanket over her.
“Thank you,” Jessica said, feeling slightly silly now for overreacting.
“Night, Jessica.”
“Night.”
He stared at her, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Was he out of breath, too? Nah, he was a trained paramedic. He could probably scale the mountain without much effort. “Tomorrow’s a new day,” he said. “A new start. Let’s make it count.”
She watched him climb the ladder to his loft and disappear behind the door.
The real Daniel might not be the romantic hero of her daydreams, but he did know just the right thing to say.
***
Daniel tossed and turned for the hundredth time. He knew exactly how to solve his problem, and it involved going downstairs and finishing what he’d unintentionally started.
He
and Jessica Mendez were two grown-ass adults, as she had put it. They could make their own grown-ass decisions about sex.
Still, he meant what he said. Tomorrow was a new day, a fresh start. He knew as well as anyone that Jessica Mendez didn’t belong in Snow Creek. She had dreams that went far beyond this town….
And he couldn’t pretend it wouldn’t be complicated.
Sex with women was usually simple. That was the beauty of it.
But sex with Jessica Mendez wasn’t going to be. It was going to be a sweaty, hot, tangled web that he wanted to get caught up in.
Even now he fisted his hands and flipped onto his stomach, willing himself to stay put.
He jumped out of bed.
A second shower never hurt anyone.
Chapter Four
Tuesday, December 19th
Jessica was sleeping peacefully on her side, knees drawn into her chest, wisps of hair falling across her cheek. Her head was tucked into a sofa cushion.
After Daniel’s second shower, he had felt compelled to check on her to make sure she was still all right, despite the head injury. He’d been relieved when she’d been asleep. Because if she’d been awake and staring up at him with those dark eyes….
Jessica Mendez snored. Not a loud, sawing-wood snore. But a soft, open-mouthed snore like Mitten, who had found herself a nice perch right on top of Jessica’s chest.
Yeah, that’s where he would have chosen to rest his head, too.
Daniel considered himself a simple guy. Life was simpler when you were honest.
He said what he meant.
He did want he liked.
He took what he wanted.
But he hadn’t taken what he wanted yet or said what he wanted, not with her.
He reached out to brush her hair from her face, drawing his finger against her soft cheek. Jessica Mendez had always had something special: a snap, a sizzle, a bit of snark beneath that warm coziness. And the two of them together? He hadn't even made it past that one kiss and his night had been a slideshow of sweaty dreams.
That was the thing about willpower: one only had so much to spare, and he’d exhausted nine hours worth.
Jessica stirred and Daniel walked into the kitchen to avoid getting caught staring at her.
She joined him a moment later, stretching her arms overhead with a yawn. "Coffee?" she asked.
"Putting on a pot."
She leaned against the kitchen counter with a speculative frown. "I haven't slept in another bed in…forever."
"Technically, you still haven't." He grabbed sugar and creamer from his cupboard. "That there is what we refer to in this house as a couch."
"Ha, ha." She scrunched her nose. "I guess tonight will be the first night I sleep in another bed. Or does that not count, either?"
“Depends on the bed and how much sleep gets done.” If it was his bed, there’d be very little sleep. He looked down at her through his lashes, liking how her blush went all the way up her neck. He stepped closer to her and slipped his fingers into her hair.
Her lips fell open as he gently pressed his thumbs into her scalp. “How’s that tenderness?” he asked.
She murmured something that had him drawing closer, until he’d backed her against the counter. This was nuts, he realized. But not as nuts as not kissing her again, so he dipped his head, stopping just short of her lips.
She drew in short, quick breaths as his hands settled at the base of her neck. But then she pulled away quickly. He shook his head, confused about what had happened, until he realized his phone was ringing.
He glanced over to the counter and saw it was his parents. He picked up the phone, noting how Jessica took the opportunity to slip back into the living room. He ran his hands through his hair and forced himself to cool down. “Hi, Mom and Dad. Everything okay?”
“It’s a wee disaster, Daniel,” his father said, his brogue still strong after all these years. “The blizzard’s bolloxed us all up.”
Daniel glanced out the window at the clear skies. “The blizzard blew through here yesterday. We might have a snow bank, but they should have that cleared up in no time.”
“Ye don’t have the market cornered on snow in that town, son. We have a wee thing called snow here in Denver, too. The flight schedules are all messed up and you’ve been delayed again until tomorrow. Oh wait, your mother wants to say a word.”
“Dad, wait—”
“Oh dear,” his mom said, flustered. “I’m afraid the heavens are against us!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Mom.” He sighed. “This happens every Christmas. I’ll just call the airline and figure out something.”
“Not sure what good it will do,” she said. “The customer service agent won’t be able to see your face, and I dare say you’re only half as charming with only your voice.”
“Mom.” His voice felt strangled.
“Oops, your father wants you back.”
He was pretty sure his parents passed him back and forth to be sure he never got a word in edgewise. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“It might be one more day, son. If only the damn snow would stop.”
He heard Jessica clearing her throat and turned to look at her, his own throat going dry. God, she was beautiful. She twisted the tails of her shirt with her fingers.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Uh yeah,” he said into the phone. “It will be all right.”
He said his goodbyes and hung up the phone and walked towards her, not stopping when she asked what was wrong again, not stopping until he had her in his arms and his mouth was on hers.
***
Wake up, Jessica!
Jessica kept expecting to wake up in bed, gasping from her dream: Daniel twisting her hair in his fist and holding her head still; Daniel covering her mouth with his; Daniel’s other hand sliding across her hip and underneath her shirt.
Her knees went weak as she swayed into him.
As long as she was dreaming….
She pressed against him and ran her hands through his hair, stroked his neck. God, he smelled great. There were other smells, too—like coffee. Why was she imagining coffee?
He yanked her shirt over her head and it became very clear, very quickly, that she wasn’t dreaming.
This was real—Daniel Hennessey and her. He palmed her backside and lifted her against him, her legs wrapped around his waist.
It was all happening so fast. He was kissing her and walking toward the guest bedroom. His mouth began a lazy exploration of her ear, sending drowsy sparks of pleasure through her even as his hands frantically stroked her skin.
“You are so soft.” His voice was raspy and rough as his tongue laved her neck. His medallion swung from his neck and he pulled it off.
This was no fantasy. There was no declaration of love; there was only his mouth and his hands and this heat. He gently lowered her to the bed and she pulled him closer and arched against him and tore at his shirt just as his hands found the waist of her pants and he tugged—then stopped.
“Wait—are you sure?” he asked urgently.
She arched against him in answer, but his hand splayed against her stomach.
“I need to hear you say you’re sure,” he said.
She looked into his eyes, earnest and searching. She reached down for him and he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m sure,” she said.
The words had barely left her mouth when he claimed her lips again, his hands eagerly slipping her pants down her legs.
She leaned back her head and sighed. She didn’t want cool and collected fantasy Daniel anymore.
***
“I’ve got an idea,” Daniel whispered against her lips as he kissed her again.
“Does it involve me sleeping for twenty years?” She stretched out beneath him. God, she was exhausted—how many times was he going to do this? Not that she minded, but she was only human, after all.
“It involves a shower.”
�
��Oh, that sounds good,” she agreed.
“Upstairs.” He smiled as he stood and pulled her up with him. “You know I have a theory.” He nibbled at her lips. “That sex is more exciting when it’s not in your bed.”
“Like guest bedroom sex?” she asked.
“Want to prove me wrong?” He began to walk out of the bedroom towards his loft.
“More than anything.”
***
Wednesday, December 20th
Jessica bolted up in his bed as inspiration hit. She wanted to do a travel video of best hotel beds. She couldn’t feature this one, of course. She turned to look at Daniel, who had fallen asleep again, one hand thrown over her waist. She gently removed it and slipped out to the living room.
She grabbed her laptop, settled on the couch, and let Mitten snuggle next to her. She did a few quick searches for great honeymoon sites, and compiled a list of contenders. She’d have to email the lodges and hotels, ask for video and then….
Her fingers stilled. She didn’t have to email anyone.
She could just go.
She. Could just. GO. And see the lodgings for herself.
She slammed the laptop shut. What was she thinking? How could she just leave Snow Creek—her parents’ home—especially now? Especially after what had happened?
The bedroom door flung open. Daniel looked down from the loft, eyes wild. They settled when he saw her. He scratched his head as he climbed down.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, setting down her laptop which disrupted Mitten enough to move off her lap and settle at the far end of the couch.
“Yeah.” He walked into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. “I’m just hungry.”
“We did forget to eat.”
“And…I thought you’d left.”
“And just walked away?” she asked with a smile, nodding outside, where snow covered the streets.
“I was half asleep,” he said in his defense. “And you do have a head injury.” He handed her a cup of coffee and leaned against the arm of the couch. “So, how long are we going to do this?”
Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas Page 23
