Speaking of Love

by Ophelia London

  “Is this your idea of catching me off guard?” Rick asked, eyeing the snowball.

  “No,” Mac replied. “This is.”

  Using the momentum of the downward slope, Mac dropped the snowball and sprang. She hit Rick a little harder than she’d anticipated when she jumped on him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body. She knew he was more than caught off guard when he gasped, lost his footing, and fell backward into the snow.

  Mac landed on top, her chin knocking against his chest.

  “And you call yourself…” She laughed breathlessly. “…a hockey player?”

  “That’s not allowed in hockey,” Rick said. He was a little breathless, too. Had she hit him too hard? But when she made a move to roll off, he wound his arms around her waist, pinning her to him. “And neither is this.”

  Faster than she thought possible, he flipped her over. Her back pressed into the snow and Rick was pressed against her.

  …

  Mac’s nose was pink from the cold and her hair was splayed around her like an angel. Rick was balancing on his elbows, careful not to really allow his body weight to weigh her down. But when she finished blinking in surprise and looked into his eyes, he felt his elbows start to shake.

  Before he collapsed on top of her, he rolled off and lay at her side, their heads close together. He could hear her breathing. He squinted up at the sky, but all he could see was bright white and falling snow.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, worried when she didn’t move for a while.

  “Cold but yes,” she said, sounding completely normal. “I was just wondering how you would handle something.”

  “Handle what?” he asked. Before she could answer, snow was up his nose.

  “That,” he heard Mac say.

  “A snowball to the face of an unsuspecting man on his back,” he said, wiping his hands over his face. “Only you would sink so low.” When he sat up, Mac was already on her feet, backing her way up the hill toward the house.

  “Truce,” she said. “I’m not wearing arctic snow boots like you.”

  Rick shook his head and rose to his feet. “Mackenzie Simms, your toes are the last thing you should be worried about.”

  She held up her empty hands. “No, I swear, I’m done. Honest truce.” Then she made a face and kind of wiggled. “I have snow where snow shouldn’t be.”

  Rick couldn’t help lifting an eyebrow. “Are you that cold?” he asked when he neared her. “I can always carry you to the cabin.” He gestured up the hill. “We seem to have slid down quite a ways.”

  “Ha! Thanks but no thanks.” She shivered then cupped her hands over her mouth and blew. “My clothes are stylish. I just don’t think they’re snow-proof.”

  Out of impulse, Rick stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “Better?” he asked, dipping his head.

  Mac felt a little stiff at first, like his movement had surprised her. He’d kind of surprised himself. But after a moment, she softened in his arms, and he thought he actually heard her sigh. “Mm, much better,” she said. “I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

  Heat flared inside Rick when Mac nuzzled her face into the crevice between his arm and chest.

  “Unzip your coat,” she said.

  Rick’s eyes popped open. “Why?”

  “Because I’m cold,” she said. “I want to put my arms inside your coat with you.” She reached for his zipper. “It’s got to be warmer in there than out here.”

  “No,” he said automatically.

  Mac looked up at him, her fingers frozen in front of his zipper. “What’s wrong?”

  Rick looked down at her face, unsure what to say. “Nothing.” But he took a step back—a very deliberate step back. “We really might freeze out here. We should head in.”

  “Okay,” Mac said with a sigh and they started back to the cabin. “I didn’t know you were such a snow bunny,” she added, walking at his side.

  “Bunny?” Rick asked, turning to her. When she stumbled, he took her hand and looped her arm through his. “That’s not very manly.”

  “I assume snow horse is more apropos?” she asked.

  Rick laughed. “Much more.”

  “We don’t get snow like this in Franklin,” she continued. “So how would I know this side of you? The only time we see each other is when you’re at work or when we’re on a date.”

  “I thought we weren’t dating,” he said. He felt Mac’s body kind of twitch.

  Neither of them said anything for a moment. “Maybe we’re seeing different sides of each other today,” he finally said, and then stopped walking and moved in front of her. “Did you ever think of that?”

  Mac didn’t answer, just kept looking up at him. The tip of her nose was red. Her blond hair was blowing around her face, stray snowflakes caught in her curls.

  Rick watched as she dropped his arm and took a few steps away from him. He wondered if what he’d said was more meaningful than he’d intended. Mac was right, for the most part. When did they see one another, other than when they were going out for the evening? Obviously, they still didn’t know each other very well.

  His knowing how to change a flat tire and owning a pair of Levi’s seemed to genuinely surprise her. For his part, he had no idea she had been so mistreated by a man three years ago that she refused to commit. Maybe it was her defense mechanism to hold back and not open up to him. Maybe if he’d known about it six months ago, that first kiss would have been the first of many, instead of their last.

  “Mac,” Rick said. She looked so small, so lovely. He felt the urge to cradle her in his arms. But the sudden gust of icy wind that blew her hair back reminded Rick of the airplane carrying Brandy—the one that would be landing very soon. Brandy…the woman Mac chose because she didn’t want him.

  “I’ll…grab the wood and meet you inside,” Rick said with a smile. “But no more sneak attacks. I want to see your hands the whole time.”

  Mac displayed her gloved palms, fingers splayed. “Okay.”

  As she walked toward the cabin, Rick picked up the logs, trying to forget the way Mac had felt in his arms and where exactly his mind had gone, where his body had wanted to take her.

  He blew a stream of frozen air out his mouth and headed up the hill.

  The warmth of the room greeted him, but Mac did not. He noticed her boots and coat by the back door—she must be upstairs taking a hot shower. Rick could use a shower, too. Although, maybe not a hot one at the moment.

  He dumped his load of wood beside the hearth, then sat down at the kitchen table, draped his coat over the back of a chair, and unlaced his boots. En route to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, Rick pulled his shirt off over his head. It was wet, thanks to Mac’s snow-up-the-nose routine. For staving off the frostbite, no clothing was better than a wet shirt. He was about to throw it in the dryer when Mac suddenly rounded the corner.

  She seemed stunned, because all she did was freeze and stare at him. The next moment, she jumped and flung her hands over her eyes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Sorry!” Mac said. Maybe she repeated it a few times, she couldn’t be sure. “I didn’t know you…were…”

  “I thought you were in the shower,” she heard Rick say.

  “I was. I mean, I was going to.”

  “Why are you covering your eyes?”

  Mac pressed her lips together and laughed, slowly lowering her hands.

  Wow. Chest. Nice chest. And even better non-pixillated.

  “Why don’t you have a shirt on?” she asked.

  “You dumped snow on me.” He laughed. “Should I have kept it on?”

  “No,” Mac said, attempting to look away. “But…”

  “Mac.” He laughed again and walked over to her. “You’ve already gone into my pants for my keys today. Are you really afraid of a bare chest?”

  But it wasn’t just any bare chest. Even when she was trying very hard to look out the window behind him, she could still picture it clear
ly. Before she’d averted her eyes, she’d gotten a pretty good look at it. It was muscly and toned and speckled with dark blond hair the same shade as on his arms. She could easily imagine running her hands across his skin. She’d seen his abs, too. Had he had a six-pack all this time?

  He was standing directly in front of her now, but she was still looking away, concentrating on one particular beam on the ceiling so she would stop imagining how it would feel to run her fingers along the rippled muscles of his stomach.

  “What are you doing?” Rick asked. “Hey.”

  When she finally looked him in the eyes, he was smiling.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hey there.” She smiled back, going for the whole nonchalance vibe. “So, what’s going on with you?”

  “Oh, you know,” Rick said, “nothing much. Walking around half naked, scaring women to death. Same old thing.”

  Mac pressed her lips together, stifling a giggle. “Sorry for laughing.”

  Rick walked to the fridge. When he pulled it open, she was a bit mesmerized by the way his back muscles moved. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just glad it was me who got caught and not you.”

  Mac opened her mouth, but then didn’t think it was prudent to tell him she didn’t make it a habit of walking around without a top on.

  “Do you want to shower now?” he asked. “There should be plenty of hot water for both of us, but why don’t you go first to be sure.”

  He was leaning against the counter, a bottle of water in his hand, his perfect chest just hanging out. She was cold, she was wet, and yes, she needed a shower. But she didn’t feel like leaving—in fact, she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from him.

  After Rick took a long drink, he chuckled softly at something then disappeared through a doorway off the kitchen. When he returned, he was wearing a flannel shirt and a bright-yellow fleece parka over the top of it.

  “Are you more comfortable now?” he asked.

  Mac burst out laughing. So did Rick. It wasn’t until they had both quieted that she heard Rick’s cell ringing.

  When Rick picked it up and checked the incoming caller, a weird expression flickered across his face. “Hello?” he said. “Hi. How are you? Wonderful…great, thanks.” He looked at Mac and mouthed, Brandy.

  Her stomach dropped. Wow, she couldn’t believe it… For twenty whole minutes, she’d completely forgotten about Brandy and the entire point of this weekend trip. “Have they already landed?” she asked, taking note of the smile Rick was now wearing while speaking to her cousin.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered, holding the phone away from his mouth. “Oh, really?” he said into the phone. When he started asking questions, Mac walked to his side.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  Rick held up one finger, listening. His face was a mask of concentration.

  “Okay, well, keep us posted. What?” He shot a quick glimpse at Mac then laughed at something. Mac wondered what Brandy was saying to him. Was it sweet-nothings? Gah! “Right,” Rick said. “Okay. Bye.”

  “So?” Mac asked when Rick lowered the phone.

  He was looking a little flustered. Rick didn’t look flustered very often. Something was up.

  “What happened?” Mac asked. “Are they here? Did they land early?”

  “No,” Rick said quietly, turning his phone over in his hands. “The airport is closed. No flights in or out until tomorrow because of the storm.”

  …

  Rick walked to the window and looked out. It was still snowing, but it didn’t look like an out and out storm. The airport must be worse.

  “They’re both on the first flight out of Indianapolis tomorrow morning,” Rick said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “They land at ten.”

  “Okay,” Mac said, nodding.

  Rick’s mind was racing. After the last few hours, he didn’t know how he was going to make it through the rest of the day—and night!—without becoming completely unhinged.

  Now what?

  “So, it looks like it’s just you and me until then,” he said, trying to sound casual. What a stupid understatement.

  “Yeah.” Mac sighed. Her expression was unreadable. “Looks like it.”

  “Well, once I start a fire, at least we won’t be cold.” Small talk, Duffy? Really? What next? The stock market?

  He pushed up the sleeves of the oversized parka he was wearing. It was priceless, seeing the look on Mac’s face when he’d come out of the laundry room wearing it. What was more than priceless was the way she’d been looking at him before that, when his shirt had been off. The thought made him smile and…wonder.

  He sat on the couch as Mac walked to the fridge and pulled out her own bottle of water. “That’s a sight I’d like to see,” she said.

  Rick turned to look at her. “What?”

  Her chin was tilted back as she took a drink. “You building a fire,” she said, sitting on the couch next to him. She drew her knees into her chest. “I can’t picture it.”

  “Even now?” Rick asked, gesturing at the large stack of split logs.

  Mac rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I can see it a little better. Especially while you’re in those.” She stretched out her leg and touched her pointing toe to the cuff of his jeans. “And I must say, I’m impressed.”

  “You’re impressed by how I wear my jeans?”

  Mac bent in half, choking on her last sip of water. His question seemed to throw her. On top of the choking, it looked like she was blushing—something Rick didn’t see on her very often. It was lovely. He was really enjoying getting to know the softer, more vulnerable side of Mac.

  “Yes,” Mac said, coughing into her fist. “I mean, no…I’m not impressed by your jeans. I mean, you’re dressed down. You can’t really build a fire in your business suit.”

  “I’ve built a fire wearing much less than that,” Rick said, liking how this made her blush again.

  “Anyway,” she said, wiping her mouth, “we were talking about you warming me up.”

  Rick couldn’t help smiling. “I’ve got some more ideas to share with you about that, if you have the time.”

  …

  What was with all the flirting? Was it the fact that they’d been traveling together, trapped in the small cab of his truck for hours? Maybe it was the snow, or being in the cabin; her bare feet and Rick’s bare chest.

  She frowned, remembering the silly scene she’d caused when she’d seen him shirtless. Maybe if she hadn’t acted like a giggling twelve-year-old, he wouldn’t have put on that ridiculous coat.

  “You look like you know what you’re doing,” she said, sliding off the couch and joining Rick at the fireplace.

  He was squatting in front of it, staring in silence. A few times, he actually stuck his head inside and looked up.

  “Something wrong?” Mac asked.

  “I can’t find how to open the flue.” He ran a hand over the outside of the hearth. “Ah, here.” He pulled a small lever hidden between two bricks. There was a whoosh of air. He sat back on his heels, unzipped the yellow parka, and began peeling it off.

  “Here.” Mac crawled up behind him. “Let me help.”

  Rick looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re undressing me, Mackenzie.” There was teasing in his voice.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  One of his sleeves was caught and Mac had to take a hold of his bicep to pull it off. Despite herself, she couldn’t help lingering there for a few extra moments. It never ceased to amaze her how different the male body was from the female body. While women were generally soft and smooth, men were the exact opposite. They were hard and chiseled, they had crevices and angles…and rock-like biceps.

  “May I have my arm back?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry.” Mac quickly pulled her hand off his deliciously rounded muscle and sat his coat on the floor behind them.

  “Hand me a few pieces of paper,” Rick said, pointing to a wooden box on the floor. “There, insi
de.”

  Mac opened the lid to find some old newspaper. She handed him a stack. Rick wadded it up in his fist and placed it in the center of the empty fireplace. She crossed her legs and watched as he positioned kindling over the wads of paper. A few of them he made smaller by snapping them in half.

  No doubt about it, there was just something about a man working with his hands.

  When Rick struck a match, the smell brought back a memory. She’d been camping once, with Tess’s family. She couldn’t sleep, so Charlie had stayed up all night with her. He’d toasted marshmallows and she’d consumed ten s’mores. Despite his skirt-chasing tendencies, Charlie was a pretty decent guy.

  “Mac?”

  Mac blinked. “What?”

  Rick was looking at her. “I asked you to hand me another match. What were you just thinking about?”

  She pulled out a long stick and handed it to Rick. “Nothing,” she said. “Charlie.”

  Rick lowered the match. “Charlie?”

  “Yeah. We went camping together once, and I was thinking about it.”

  “You and Charlie?” he asked. “When?”

  “A couple years ago. I didn’t like it much. Bugs and wild animals, the idea of being unconscious in a tent all night. It creeped me out. I couldn’t sleep, so we stayed up all night. That was more fun, anyway. There was a fire like this.”

  She didn’t understand why Rick was staring at her, an angry vein popping on his forehead.

  …

  “You and Charlie?” Rick couldn’t help repeating. The conversation after hockey last week came screaming back to his memory. So there had been something between them. Rick picked up another thick piece of kindling and snapped it in half, exhaling a growl with the effort. “Interesting.”

  “Not ‘me and Charlie’ like that,” Mac corrected. But he knew she was lying, because her cheeks were flushing red. What other explanation could there be? He snapped another piece of wood.

  “Does Tess know about it?” Rick asked, staring blankly at his little starter fire.

  “Know about what?” Mac asked. “Hey.” He felt her grab his arm and turn him toward her. “Are you jealous of Charlie?”