Winter Signs (Season Named Series Book 2)

by Sarah Gai

  Just as he was lost in his thoughts, he heard Winter descending the stairs, her long, wet hair braided and wearing flannelette pajama bottoms and a white tank top. She even made plain, sleeping attire sexy and Nolan knew he was in for a long night without sleep. All he would be thinking about was the woman two rooms over in his house, driving him to the point of lustful insanity.

  Winter

  The moment Nolan parked in front of his log cabin home, Winter was in love. It looked like the house of her dreams, literally; close enough to town, yet far enough away to feel the seclusion, with an open living plan—every part of it called to her.

  As they stood on the balcony, she had a brief thought of Connor and their dream of one day having a home like this one. They actually fought about it—he wanted an iron-made house, yet she wanted a log cabin. They agreed to disagree on that one. She felt bad standing there with this man that was everything she could ever want, yet thinking of her first love. It wasn't fair to either of them.

  As Winter stepped into the hot bath, sinking into its depths and sighing with contentment, she thought about the man downstairs and the path her life had taken. She may be back home, but it was unlike Winter to be so impulsive, like walking away from a life she had built and quitting her job. She had returned to a place that brought her nothing but heartache. Actually, that wasn't true as it had also brought her many years of moments, memories, and happiness. Before her world was ripped away from her, this was the place where she had planned her adult years.

  What scared her the most, causing her to struggle and acknowledge, was that her mind was ready to move on and her heart was following right along with it. The guilt of saying goodbye to Connor and what they should have was eating her up inside. She was ashamed to admit to herself how she was forgetting things about him. She couldn't remember his scent anymore or how his face looked. Her chest barely sliced open when she woke in the mornings, as her first thoughts were of Nolan—the way he smiled, how his pupils dilated when he looked at her, the feel of his hands on her skin. It was all moving so fast and Winter struggled to breathe at the thought of it. To her, all of this didn't just happen in mere weeks. It had taken her six long years to come to this point. Should she really punish herself any longer?

  She pulled herself out of the bath, wrapping a soft, white towel around her. Looking in the mirror, she braided her hair as she stared at the reflection looking back at her, the girl she once was still deep within her mature face. She saw possibilities again, maybe even of a future in which she was happy.

  Turning away, she opened up the bathroom door and exited, making her way into the guest suite. Dressing in her pjs and preparing to walk down stairs to see Nolan, she bit at her lip in contemplation. For an instant, she thought about running, packing up her belongings and hightailing it back to Seattle. Surely, her boss could give her the job back. She could just say goodbye before things got too heavy between her and Nolan; he would be better for it. He couldn't see it, but deep down Winter knew he deserved someone complete.

  The thought of walking away and never seeing him, kissing him, touching him, almost sent her to her knees. He was like a freight train, running at her full speed and that scared Winter. She didn't expect to come home and fall hard for someone, but it had happened. She felt the pieces of herself slowly gluing themselves back together. She had locked herself away and it was as if Nolan was the key. She felt the wave of emotion roll over her as if her heart had taken its first beat as she made up her mind.

  Standing from the bed, she walked towards the step, an invisible cord pulling her along, tugging at her body as it dragged her towards the man downstairs. Her mind was begging her to turn around and think some more, but her soul was imploring to be near him.

  She saw him as her feet carried her down the last few steps. He started to pick up the plates and hand one to Winter, but she placed her hand up to tell him to stop. He did, leaving the sandwich sitting there on the bench. She closed the distance between them, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down so she could take his lips with hers. It was soft, slow exploring as they began. Winter tried the only way she knew how to show him what he meant to her, how her feelings for him were growing.

  Nolan had other plans as he grabbed her thighs, lifting her off the floor, her legs wrapping around him as he began to move. She knew he was heading towards the living room. Without breaking their kiss, she tapped the side of his face, getting his attention. With the same hand, she pointed up the stairs. He stopped momentarily in his tracks, still keeping his mouth on hers, warring with himself. Moving her hips up just once gave him all the signal he needed and with a throaty groan he once again was off and climbing the stairs.

  Winter was thankful he didn't trip, his stride fast, yet steady. Nolan stopped outside the guest room, placing her back against the door and rocked into her. Winter tapped his cheek again and pointed towards his room. He didn't hesitate that time as he turned and carried her with a speed she hadn't seen from him before.

  Her mind was in a fog; his touch making her heady and euphoric. Their kissing almost stopped as she felt herself being lowered gently on the soft mattress, his body pressing down on hers. His hands left her thighs, slowly trailing over her hips. Winter pulled back and took in a lungful of air. He stopped his wandering and stood up at the edge of the bed. Winter looked up at him, desire swarming under her skin.

  His chest was heaving, his pupils dilated with desire. One eyebrow peaked up with curiosity. "Are you sure about this?" he signed, his body language showing raw alpha.

  Winter nodded, just wanting his skin to return to hers. Before they went any further, before she completely lost herself with him, she had one thing to let him know. "This is me, Nolan. You will never hear me verbally say the words I want you, I need you, I...love you," she pleaded for him to understand. She couldn't offer him everything.

  "Then show me," he signed.

  That was something Winter could do. And she showed him with every touch, every kiss; more was said in the silence, than any words could ever say. Their bodies knew each other, their nerve endings absorbing each touch. Sweat drenched, they moved together and reached heights both thought were impossible. Their bodies entwined as they came together; Winter felt things she had never felt before as they melded as one, in and out, up and down. She was riding a high she never dreamed of reaching, feeling emotions she thought had been long buried. The magnitude of their joining, the way her body exploded as he played her like an instrument he knew well; in those short hours, she felt like she would cry with the passion and love she felt in her heart, yet only a single, solemn tear escaped, one in which Nolan caught and kissed away. Winter knew in that moment she couldn't run from this. She had fallen hard for him and Nolan’s arms were the things that would lift her skyward, keeping her safe, loved, treasured, secured, and adored. Winter couldn’t walk away from the light and warmth he had gifted her and back into the dark, cold, gloomy existence she had grown accustomed to.

  The sun began to rise after their slow and lingering night; the two of them settled, small kisses still exchanged as their eyes remained closed, their bodies sated. Winter didn't want to go to sleep as she nestled herself into the crook of his body, his hand running up and down her arm, soothing and comforting her.

  Maybe she could just rest for a few minutes, she thought, the smile she couldn't tame causing her cheeks to ache.

  Winter

  They didn't wake until two o'clock that afternoon. Winter's muscles ached in a glorious way and she could have continued to sleep if it wasn't for the distracting, yet wanted, lips kissing their way down her body. She rolled over onto her back, grabbing the descending head making it's way lower and lower. She pulled on his hair pulling him up to come eye-to-eye with her. He was so unbelievably attractive—it physically hurt to look at him.

  "Hi," he mouthed.

  Winter responded by kissing him. One thing led to another and their previous performance was r
epeated. She couldn't get enough of him. It was more than physical; they were communicating everything they felt, wanted, and needed without a single word.

  The clock showed half past four when they finally pulled apart. Winter scooted to the edge of the bed and out of reach, needing a breather, the bathroom, and some food in order to survive another round. As she left the bed, Nolan reached out trying to grab her body, missing by inches. She turned to look at him, his messy bed hair ruffled and sexy, as his mouth pouted that he didn't catch his prey. She waggled her finger telling him he was being naughty.

  "I'm just going to use your bathroom," she signed. Winter felt her stomach gurgle with hunger. Nolan heard it too, his pout turning to a grin and nodding his head in understanding.

  "I'll start a very late version of breakfast, you do what you need to do," he insisted as he flipped the sheet off and rose. Winter stopped in her tracks, biting at her lip.

  “Well, maybe the bathroom could wait,” she suggested as she watched the very chiseled, naked man stretch. Nope, her body told her; there would be time for that later she assured herself. Rushing off before she changed her mind, Winter walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Leaning against the counter, she felt giddy replaying last night’s romp over in her mind. It was so unlike her to initiate and take the lead like that. Sleeping with someone was most definitely out of character, but Nolan wasn't just any man; he was...hers?

  Winter shook her head at the ridiculous thought as she turned the knob and started the shower. Stepping into the hot water, she washed her body, the body that had been loved so thoroughly last night and this afternoon. Where would they go from here? Did he see them having a future together? Winter couldn't think straight. She knew a piece of her heart, her body, wanted him, but her mind was screaming, “It’s just too fast! How could you fall for someone in such a short space of time?” Winter never moved this fast. Sure, she had loved Connor, but falling in love with him, well...that didn't come until eight years after their friendship had started.

  Winter thought back to the first time she met Nolan, the day he started school. Even being with Connor had not stopped her from noticing him. She had seen him all right; she just refused to let her mind go there because she had already found the love of her life. Her chest pierced with pain as she thought of her childhood love and she reached out to steady herself against the tiled wall. Why now? Why when everything is going so well did she have to think of him? He would want her to be happy. He would want her to move on and live. So why did it hurt so much to do just that?

  Winter knew she couldn't keep doing this—feeling guilty. For a second, she felt mad to be alive and unable to let go of a ghost. She was mad at what happened, she was mad at being left alone, she was mad at Connor for dying, most of all she was mad she was with a man who showed her hope, a future, and love, yet she was standing in his shower feeling torn and broken.

  Turning off the water, she stepped out and spun a towel around her wet hair and tied another around her body. With a straight back and determination, Winter walked out of the bathroom and into Nolan's closet to find something soft and comfy to wear. She was not going to do this anymore. She had a second chance at happiness and she was going to take it. One way or another, she needed to figure out how to let the past go, preserving the happy memories of Connor, but allowing herself to love and be loved.

  As of that moment, she was going to do just that. Whether Nolan knew it or not, she was going to fight to keep him, to open herself up and breathe him into her very pores.

  She searched the walk-in closet and found a pair of gray sweatpants. Pulling them on and rolling the waist down over and over again, she spotted a pile of sweatshirts on the top shelf and reached up on tip-toes to pull one down as the whole lot fell to the floor around her. Winter pulled on an oversized sweater and began refolding and neatly piling the others back together. She picked them up to replace them on the shelf when something caught her eye.

  She just stood there and stared, questioning the coincidence of the object staring back at her. It was a small, treasure-shaped wooden box with the initials “CB” engraved on the front panel. Winter knew it well because it was a gift she had given Connor on his thirteenth birthday. What she didn't understand was why Nolan had it.

  She never knew what Connor had put in it; she had asked once, but his reply was only, “I promise you one day when we are married I'll show you. Okay?"

  She pulled the wet towel from her hair and dropped it to the floor as she ran her fingers through her long mane, trying to brush out the knots, she contemplated whether or not to touch it. It wasn't hers. Maybe she should ask Nolan about it first. The more she stared at it, the more she became upset and questioning. Seriously, why would Nolan have it? Shouldn't it have stayed with Rosie–or me?

  Her curiosity got the better of her; she stood on the bottom shelf and reached up, snagging it in her hands, falling back to the ground, cradling the box as her butt hit the floor. Scooting her body back against the closet wall, she crossed her legs, the box resting in her lap.

  Winter opened the lid and began pulling out its contents one by one. Old cards she had given him, dried flowers she had picked, pictures of the two of them taken over the years. She stopped and stared at one of the last pictures that had been taken of them both together: a Polaroid shot of her kissing his cheek as he smiled for the photo. Winter ran her index finger softly across his face, a tear falling from her eye. I miss you, she thought to herself. She dropped the photo on top of the pile that was accumulating next to her. Reaching in, she grabbed out the last item—a small, leather notebook, its pages thick and worn—Connor’s journal. Unwrapping the cord around it, Winter began to flick through the pages as her heart shattered into those broken shards she had come to know so well.

  How could he? she thought.

  Nolan

  He could feel himself floating down the stairs, his body sparking to life, his mind still in a haze from last night and this afternoon. He literally had to pinch himself just to see if he was awake or dreaming. Last night...it was more than words could describe. If he didn't know it before, he damn well knew it now—Nolan Reed was so friggin' in love with Winter Harris there wasn't a word in the dictionary to describe it. She didn't know it, but she was about to. She was never leaving Port Townsend again. If he had his way, she would never leave this house, his side, or his bed.

  As he raided the refrigerator, pulling out the eggs and bacon, he thought over the future he began to build up in his mind. As the pan heated, Nolan placed the bacon and cracked eggs in and started on the toast.

  Sure, there were a few things he needed to tell her about. She knew he was originally from Savannah, the son of a single mom. He wanted to tell her his whole history. He was sure she would understand...surely. As the toaster popped, Nolan pulled the hot bread out and buttered it. He placed the knife down and leaned against the counter. He knew there were some things she was not going to be happy about and he wondered if he should even tell her at all.

  Pushing off the counter, he shook his head, refusing to go there. Today was turning out to be too good and he wasn't about to ruin it. If he played his cards right, he was hoping one day the girl upstairs would fall for him as much as he had fallen for her. Impossible; no one could love as hard as he did.

  He finished dishing up the plates and picked them up, heading for the stairs only to be greeted by Winter descending. She was wearing his sweatpants, large and baggy making her look positively tiny, and his sweatshirt, which was also swimming on her. Oh God, he hoped she...

  "Oh, I'm so hungry. How about we eat down here?" she suggested as she walked past him towards the counter.

  Nolan looked at her puzzled. Had she been crying? He was perplexed; her eyes were red-rimmed, yet her face wore a smile. He turned and followed her back towards the kitchen, placing her plate down in front of her where she sat on the stool.

  He set his down and lifted a hand turning her cheek to look at him. "You all r
ight?" he mouthed. She nodded and smiled up at him. Nolan felt the about-face though; in his chest, he knew something had changed. He looked down at himself only wearing a pair of boxers and wondered if he should run upstairs and put some pants on. She leaned over and patted the stool beside her so he figured she didn't mind his attire. He took a seat and began to eat. He didn't realize just how hungry he was until the food hit his mouth. He looked over at Winter who had barely touched hers, merely pushing it around the plate.

  "You gonna eat?" he dropped his fork and signed. She nodded her head, but turned her body to face him.

  "I will in a minute. Why don't you tell me something about yourself, Nolan? Something I don't know," she signed. She clasped her hands on her lap and waited.

  "What would you like to know?" he asked.

  "Tell me about your family, hobbies, favorite color. I don't mind what it is, just something."

  Nolan thought about it. He guessed now was as good a time as any. He turned to fully face her. The central heating was on and warmed the whole place, but for some reason he began to overheat. Would she judge him for who he was? She had to find out sooner or later, he was just hoping today he could have skipped past it and waited for another time. But the way she was looking at him made him want to tell her everything, as if he had no choice.

  "Well, my favorite color is green." Like your eyes, he thought. "For a hobby, I actually collect marbles." She laughed and she would never know how beautiful the sound of her laugh was to his ears. Her vocals chords were unused and throaty; it was doing things to him, knowing he caused that emotion. “It’s true. I have buckets of them. One day I'll show you," he continued.