One Hot Night: A Jupiter Point Novella

by Jennifer Bernard

  The hell if he was going home and giving Daisy a chance to meddle in this. After they’d unloaded the crew buggy and debriefed, he’d go out to the cabin.

  The cabin he’d bought because it felt like a connection to Mia.

  Too bad he was a firefighter now, or he’d be tempted to burn the place down.

  The cabin had a new bright blue metal roof and double-paned windows. It no longer looked like a haunted house, but a cozy little forest getaway. The surrounding brush had been carefully cleared away. The last pockets of snow glistened in the deep shadows of the woods.

  She remembered so clearly the moment when she’d finally stumbled onto this cabin, looking for a safe haven after that horrifying glimpse of Darren’s true nature. She’d wondered if she’d gone from the frying pan into the fire, from a hitter to a serial killer.

  And then she’d heard Aiden.

  She walked to the front door, which now hung levelly on its hinges. She knocked, but no one answered. Was there a new owner? Had they changed the lock? Did they keep the key in the same place? As if in a dream, she searched the lintel over the door and felt cold metal.

  The key slipped into her palm as if it was inviting her inside.

  This was trespassing, right? Whoever owned it now probably didn’t want her here. Maybe they had an alarm system. Maybe…

  Ugh. Enough. This was a pilgrimage, damn it. She was going to revisit the place where she’d rescued Aiden and changed her own life in the process. It would only take a few minutes.

  Shoving aside her misgivings, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  It was so cute and cozy! A tiny camp stove and a cooler made up the kitchen, along with a plywood board that formed a counter. A table for two sat near the window that looked out over the clearing. A pine branch in a small vase sent its aroma wafting through the cabin. In the corner, a Blaze King wood stove promised future warmth, though now it sat cold and lifeless. An Indian print curtain hung over a doorway that probably led to a bedroom.

  It was all so welcoming. She sat at the little wooden table with its carved peg legs. The peace and silence settled around her like a whisper.

  The envelope that Kai Rockwell had given her rustled in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled it out and set it on the table in front of her.

  What better time to read it than here and now? This pilgrimage was about courage, after all. Reading a letter from her long-lost, nameless, mystery-man father would definitely take a dose of that.

  She ripped open the envelope, like tearing off a Band-Aid.

  “My dear Mia,” it read. “I was so very sorry to hear about Samantha’s death. Your mother was a spectacular woman, an incredible dancer, a force of nature. We had a complicated relationship, but it was based most of all on respect. It was out of respect for her wishes that I stayed out of your life. I couldn’t be a full father to you, and she didn’t want you to feel as if you came second. To her, you were always first, which is how it should be. Our affair was a passionate one that took us both by surprise, like a tornado. But tornadoes cause damage, which we vowed to limit when she became pregnant. We decided it would be best for all concerned if we broke things off permanently, even though it was terribly hard to do. I went back to my family and she devoted herself to you.

  However, I promised that if you ever needed anything, I would come forward. I don’t know if you need me, or should I say-- if you need US. I have told my wife and children the whole story, and they’d like to meet you too. Of course, nothing and no one can replace Samantha, but I don’t want you to think you are alone. You have a family waiting and hoping to meet you, although the decision is entirely yours. I will understand if you choose not to meet. I gave Kai Rockwell all the information you need to reach me. Having spent a week in the wilderness with him, I trust him completely. I wouldn’t send just anyone on this mission, believe me.

  Humbly and with hope,

  Timothy Van Ness

  P.s. Don’t worry about any of the debt incurred by Samantha’s hospital bills. I’ve taken care of it.

  Mia drew in a deep breath, the fragrance of pine needles filling her nostrils. It grounded her, made her think of fresh air and roots going deep into the earth. Her mother had been sick for so long Mia had almost forgotten that she’d been a ballet dancer before giving birth to Mia.

  And she was spectacular. Just like Timothy Van Ness said. The memory of her mother as a vibrant, beautiful young woman came flooding back. She used to chop vegetables with one foot on the counter, stretching her hamstrings as she diced and minced. She took Mia to every single ballet that ever came through Fresno. From the way she reacted to the movements onstage, she obviously knew every step. She tried to get Mia into dance, but Mia was more interested in art. She’d taught dance for years, then when she’d gotten sick, she’d switched to teaching French.

  Timothy Van Ness knew a part of Mom that Mia didn’t. Imagine all the stories she might get to hear about her mother.

  How had the two of them even met?

  Before heading to the trailhead, Mia had done a quick Google search on him. About twenty-six years ago, he’d worked as an assistant director on a film about the backstabbing world of New York City ballet. Had her mother appeared in that movie? She’d never mentioned it and her name wasn’t listed in the credits. But the timing made sense.

  Of course she could meet Timothy herself and ask him.

  He lived in LA. She’d learned that too. In the Wikipedia entry, two sons were listed, both several years older than Mia. One of them had children.

  That meant she was an aunt! Or a half-aunt? How did that work?

  Or--she could just walk away. Toss this letter into the wood stove and light a match. Mom had been all the family she needed. If Mom hadn’t wanted her to know her father, obviously she’d had a really good reason for that. Why should anything change now?

  She took the envelope to the stove and crouched down next to it. Too bad Aiden wasn’t here to get the fire going, because her Girl Scout skills were seriously lacking. She opened the door and poked at the pile of ashes left from the last fire. How hard could it be to light a fire in here?

  “You have to open the damper or it won’t light.”

  The sound of Aiden’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. She sat back on her butt and swiveled to look at him.

  Good thing she was sitting, because the sight of him stole her breath away.

  He’d grown at least three inches in height since she last saw him. And that wasn’t even the main change. He looked bigger, brawnier, wider in the shoulders, stronger everywhere. He’d lost some of that open-faced innocence, and gained some scruff. But his eyes still held that summery sparkle, even though he wasn’t smiling at the moment. Not at all. His hair was longer, a little shaggy around the edges, as if he hadn’t had time to cut it.

  “Mia Grant,” he said. “Of all the cabins in all the wildernesses…”

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, forgetting that she was the one who was trespassing.

  “It’s my cabin. I own it.”

  She looked around at the cozy little nest he’d created here. No wonder it was so sweet and inviting—Aiden had made it that way.

  “Why? Why do you own it?”

  An uncomfortable expression crossed his face, and instead of answering, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Nothing. I’m, uh, here to…” She couldn’t quite remember the reason. “I’m here.”

  “Yeah, I see that.” He didn’t exactly look happy about it, either. “And you’re about to start a fire.”

  “Oh.” She snatched the envelope back from the wood stove. “I don’t have to. This is your cabin and I’m totally trespassing and I can leave—”

  “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to leave.”

  He stepped farther into the cabin and slid a duffel bag off his shoulder onto the floor. He wore work pants, boots with thick, rugged soles, and a knitted sweater in a heath
ery brown that set off his eyes and his blond-streaked hair. It was so long that he no longer looked like Captain Bedhead. Now she’d probably draw him as…Captain Hottie McHotshot.

  “Were you leaving a note?”

  “What?” She realized she was still holding the envelope from her father. “Oh, no. It’s…a long story.” She eyed his gear bag, his boots, his general air of rugged fitness. “So you’re a firefighter now. I met Daisy in Jupiter Point, and she told me that you were off fighting a wildfire.”

  “Yup, I jointed the hotshots,” he said proudly. He shut the door behind him. The temperature seemed to rise—who even needed a fire? “I love it. It’s just in the summers, though. I’m applying to graduate school.”

  “Oh yeah? What are you going to study?” Mia got to her feet, feeling awkward. Should she stay or should she go? Aiden wasn’t giving her any signals.

  “Law school, actually. Watching the prosecutor at Dearborn’s trial, that got me fired up to join the legal system. Will’s pretty proud. He left law school after Dad’s murder so he could raise me. He keeps saying it’s about time we finally got a lawyer in the family.”

  Was he babbling? Was he nervous? What did he have to be nervous about, other than finding a surprise intruder in his cabin?

  “Congratulations. I…uh, I’m glad they convicted that creep.”

  “Yeah, so were we. It was a circus, though. The media got ahold of the story and things were crazy for a while. How about you? How’s your mother?” He propped his hip against the table and crossed his arms.

  “She died a couple of months ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. For the first time, he sounded like the old straightforward, compassionate Aiden.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to sit down?” He beckoned toward one of the folding chairs. “Are you, uh, on a schedule?”

  “A schedule?” She stepped to the chair, which meant entering the force field of attraction between her and Aiden. “No, why?”

  “I mean, you aren’t meeting…someone?”

  She screwed up her nose as she sank onto the seat. He claimed the other chair and turned it around so he rested his arms on the back. Meeting? Who on earth would she be meeting? “I only know one person in Jupiter Point. Well, two, I guess, now that I’ve met Daisy. Three, including her baby.”

  Aiden’s face lit up. “How’s the kid?”

  “Adorable.”

  “Right? Trust Daisy to give birth to the world’s cutest child.” For a moment they beamed at each other. Then his grin faltered. “So you came to Jupiter Point for the stargazing, then? Special occasion, maybe?” His gaze dropped to the envelope. “Is that an invitation?”

  “Sort of, I suppose.” His questions perplexed her. “It’s from…well, my father.”

  “I thought you didn’t even know who he was.”

  Wow, he remembered about that. She wondered if his memories of that time were as vivid as hers were. “I didn’t until earlier today. This stranger showed up out of nowhere and gave me this letter from my father. I didn’t want to read it at first, but I finally did.”

  “And decided to burn it?”

  “I don’t need some out-of-the-blue family. I’m good. I’ve got…friends.” She ended on a wistful note, since her roster of friends was pretty thin lately. While she’d been nursing her mother, the rest of the world had moved on without her.

  “Wait a second.” Aiden folded his arms over his chest. “The Mia Grant I knew used to say she’d give anything for even one-tenth of a big brother.”

  “You remember that?”

  He squinted at her. “Yeah, I remember that. Why wouldn’t I remember?”

  “It was a pretty crazy time.”

  “Are you saying that you don’t remember?” He shoved off from the chair and went to the makeshift kitchen counter, where he lit the butane stove. Its roar filled the room.

  “Of course not. I remember, Captain Bedhead.”

  He laughed and filled a pan with water from a jug. He propped it on the burner, pulled out a box filled with tea bags and instant coffee. “You couldn’t have conveniently forgotten that part? Tea or coffee?”

  Well, apparently she was being invited to stay. “Tea, please. I had the most incredible coffee at the Venus and Mars Café this morning. I don’t want to ruin the memory.”

  He froze in the middle of offering her the box of tea bags. “The Venus and Mars. The envelope. That’s who gave you the envelope? The stranger?”

  She peered at him in confusion. “Yes. His name is Kai Rockwell, and he’s a mountain guide. My father hired him for a guiding trip, and then trusted him enough to ask him to find me. It was definitely out of the blue, but I’m glad he chose Kai. He’s cool. And my father’s some kind of famous movie--” She broke off because he was looking at her so oddly. “What’s wrong?”

  “You came here alone then?”

  “Yes.”

  “To see—”

  “You. Yes.” Her heart felt like a wild bird trapped in her chest, flapping for escape. “Five years. Remember?”

  He gazed down at her, the box of tea bags forgotten, his eyes darkening. “I remember that you didn’t want to make a plan to meet in five years. You didn’t want to see me again. You were pretty clear about that.”

  “I know. I just…couldn’t do that. It felt like some silly rom-com. My mother was dying, and that plan felt like a game. But I still thought about you a lot. Then Mom died, and I had to go through her things and all that. She loved calendars…you know, firefighter calendars and fluffy kitten calendars and Rumi quote calendars and that sort of thing. I was packing up her collection and I realized it was almost five years to the day since that time in the cave. So I hopped in my car and drove here. I figured at the very least, I’d get a nice road trip out of it and I’d get to see a pretty town and maybe do some stargazing and…”

  She twisted her hands together nervously, since his gaze got more intense with every word she spoke. “What?”

  He dropped the box of tea bags and crouched down in front of her, so their faces were at the same level. A faint trace of wood smoke clung to him. With all that shaggy blond hair and golden scruff, he looked like a young lion. He put his hands on her thighs, just above her knees, and leaned forward. Sensation shot up her legs, awakening every nerve ending in her lower body.

  And then their lips met in a kiss, both of them leaning in at the same moment, with the same intention.

  It was like a burst of sunshine in kiss form, a fountain of joy bubbling through her, washing away her doubt. She smiled against his lips—they felt the same, but different, firmer, more in control. More delicious than ever. A full-body tremor traveled through her as every part of her opened up to him.

  “Aiden,” she whispered. “Do you still…”

  “Yes.” He pulled away for just a brief moment. “I do still.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, sparking a surge of heat between her legs. “I know it’s crazy, but I thought about you so much. I felt like an ass, too. Figured I’d never see you again, and that eventually I’d meet someone who made me forget. Never happened.”

  The relief made her tremble. “Me neither. I mean, I didn’t try. I had to find out if there was still a chance for us.”

  He pulled her closer for another fierce kiss. It felt as if they were entering their own secret garden, where anything was possible and no one could pass beyond the walls except them. She pictured it bursting with vivid flowers and lush green vines and fruit trees ripe for the picking. Her artist’s imagination going wild again.

  “I want to show you something.” The husky roughness of his voice against her lips brought another rush of liquid heat.

  “Okay.”

  He wrapped her legs around his hips and rose to his feet—a move that only someone with incredibly powerful thighs could pull off. She knew enough about hotshots to know they had to be incredibly fit. She put her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. He smelled so g
ood—smoky and piney and Aiden-y.

  “Where are we going?”

  He reached for the camp stove and turned off the flame. “Bedroom.”

  10

  Aiden had always suspected that miracles weren’t just a myth. Growing up in Jupiter Point, between the stars and the honeymooners, nothing seemed impossible. Watching each of his older siblings find their soul mates seemed like additional proof. Then his best friend Daisy had fallen in love with Cassius Becker and the two of them were so perfect together, the word miracle seemed to apply. Cassius was such an easygoing guy, he didn’t mind Daisy’s busybody side. And Daisy listened to Cassius, respected him, never treated him like a kid, the way she treated Aiden.

  He was happy for Daisy, but he’d definitely started to wonder if the whole falling-in-love thing was going to pass him by. Or rather, that he’d had his chance and let it slip away.

  Now Mia was in his arms, more beautiful than ever, and she’d come here to find him.

  That was a freaking miracle.

  He pushed aside the cotton bedspread that separated the bedroom from the rest of the cabin. Everything in the place was his—he’d cleared out everything that belonged to Dearborn, all the way down to the floorboards. He’d even added a small bathroom, since he’d never forget the longest piss in creation after Mia had freed him. The bed was a brand new, cushiony king-size mattress on the floor, covered with a cozy nest of sleeping bags and soft fleece blankets.

  He set her down before the framed print he wanted to show her. He’d bought it from her website, when she first started branching out from superhero caricatures. It had a bright cartoon flair, just like all her work, and depicted a ballerina pirouetting around a confused-looking bear. In the corner was her trademark “Mia!” signature.

  “You bought my first piece?”

  “Well, a print of it. I could never afford the real thing. Of course I bought it. I lived on ramen for a month to afford it.”

  She kept staring at it, a slow flush rising up her cheeks. “You bought my art.”