by J. H. Croix
In a matter of minutes, I’d tossed on a T-shirt and sweatpants, brewed a pot of coffee, and returned over to Donovan’s place, not even bothering to knock. I stepped through the door just as he came out of the bedroom. He smiled slowly when he saw the travel mug of coffee in my hand.
“Here,” I said, handing over the coffee and a blueberry scone. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”
He tugged his T-shirt over his head as he stepped toward me, hiding his glorious chest from my eyes. It was quite a disappointment really. Dressed or not, Donovan just might be the sexiest man I’d ever known.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly, accepting the travel mug from me and taking a quick sip. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Maybe not as good as Janet’s, but I make a mean cup of coffee. If you like it dark, that is.”
“I do,” he said, his low voice sending a ripple through me. “I’ve gotta go.”
He stepped into his boots by the door, snagging his jacket with his free hand. Turning back, his eyes coasted over me.
“Be safe,” I called as I followed him out into the hallway.
He flashed a grin and a wink over his shoulder. “Always.”
I listened to the sound of his footsteps as he jogged down the stairs and outside. Only then did I return to my suite.
As I soaped my body in the shower a few minutes later, I noticed the soreness between my thighs. Donovan was—no surprise—well-endowed. He’d fucked me more thoroughly last night than I’d ever been fucked in my life. I leaned my head back into the water, thinking that I was starting to like him an awful lot. I didn’t know if that was such a smart plan. In fact, it might be flat-out crazy. After all, it had only been a matter of weeks since I’d driven away from San Francisco in a bit of a fit, leaving behind my cheating fiancé.
Chapter Eighteen
Jasmine
That morning, I went out to my parents’ place for breakfast. My mother, Gloria Phillips, met me on the porch, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her gaze warm as she smiled at me. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray now, but her blue eyes were as bright as ever. She was the kind of beauty that looked better with wrinkles. They simply gave her a quality of timelessness.
She wore a pair of royal blue, swingy cotton pants and a heather gray T-shirt. As soon as I stepped onto the porch, she tugged me into a hug, dropping a kiss on my cheek and then looping her elbow through mine. I walked beside her into the kitchen.
“Your father’s out and about, so it’s a perfect day for breakfast. I’m making omelets, and I’ve already started coffee.”
I slipped onto a stool at the counter. My parents’ home was a farmhouse-style house with two stories and a wraparound porch. The kitchen was large and airy with a table by the windows that looked out over the field behind the house.
Three counters lined the kitchen walls with an island with a stovetop in the center. It was comfortable to sit across from her and watch her cook. I knew she would wave me away if I offered to help, so I let her cook. I loved to cook as well. The kitchen was one of my favorite places to be, mostly because it was where we spent the most time as a family. It didn’t matter where we lived, the kitchen was the heartbeat of the home. My mother puttered about as she whisked eggs, chopped vegetables, and shredded cheese. Meanwhile, I sipped on my coffee as we chatted casually.
Once the omelets were ready, I carried the plates over to the table. She sat at an angle across from me. It was still fairly early. I’d been up since just past dawn when Donovan got the call out to the fire. I figured Levi was out there with him, but was careful not to comment on that.
Levi’s job, day in and day out, was responding to fires. If I implied, at this time of day, that I knew he was already out at a fire, my mother might wonder why.
After a few bites, I decided to share my best news. “So, Amelia connected me with the woman who runs the Midnight Sun Arts galleries.”
My mother smiled slowly. “I know. Lucy mentioned that Amelia told her about you. So, are you going to call her?”
For once, I had news my mother didn’t have before me. “Well, she already called me. I took the day yesterday to go down to Diamond Creek. She wasn’t going to be up in Anchorage for a while, and I had the time. Anyway, once I get a space set up so I can start producing pottery here, she wants to display my work in all of the galleries. They have a gallery in Fairbanks, Juneau, one in Anchorage, the one in Diamond Creek, and they even have one in Seattle.”
“Oh sweetie! That is the best news. I’m thrilled!”
Emotion tightened in my chest. I’d moved away to pursue some sort of career in what I loved, but all I’d done thus far was cobble it together. I hadn’t thought I could make my living in Willow Brook with art as a viable option, but Risa was leading me to believe I could.
“I know, right?”
My mother grinned, pausing to take a sip of coffee. “Speaking of your kiln, I talked to Janet about that too,” she said.
“Mom! You know I can take care of things myself.”
“I know you can. You’ve been taking care of everything yourself for years. There’s nothing wrong with someone trying to help.”
“I know, I know. It’s just …” My words trailed off when my mother shook her head.
“Hon, it’s okay to have friends and family to help. We all take care of each other.”
Not wanting to argue and realizing I did need some ideas about where I could set up a workspace, I took a sip of coffee and cocked my head to the side. “Okay, what did you talk to Janet about?”
“I just mentioned to her that if you were going to stay around, you would probably be looking to find a place for your studio. I don’t know exactly what you need, although I do know you need enough room to work and set up your kiln. Right?”
“Of course. So, what did Janet say?”
“Well, you know the café’s in the old fire station?”
“Of course I know that, Mom,” I said with a laugh.
She shrugged. “Well, there’s a whole storage section in the back that she doesn’t even use. It’s just empty. There were two garages originally—the main one where the café is now and then the one off the back. She said you can do whatever you want with the space back there. She even said that she figured you’d want to pay rent for it, so once you’re set up, you can work something out with her.”
My mother was clearly quite satisfied with herself as evidenced by her grin. Her grin widened when I replied, “That sounds like it might work. I’ll go talk to her.” Pausing to take a sip of coffee, I added, “And thank you.”
She winked. “I’m trying not to pressure you, but I’m also trying to make it easy for you to stay. You know your father and I would love for you to be here. You know how much we miss you.”
“I know, Mom. I’ve missed you too.”
One thing I loved about my mother was she didn’t tend to dwell on things. As soon as we finished that conversation, she moved on. She chatted about her work, a few projects my father was working on, and how excited she was to be expecting her first grandchild.
It was good to be home. I always enjoyed coming to visit, but it felt different to plan to stay. I felt like I could relax and not try so hard to cram everything in.
After we finished breakfast, I got another big hug from my mother and then left, driving straight into town to Firehouse Café. With Risa’s offer dangling in front of me, I needed a plan sooner rather than later.
When I stepped into the café, it was bustling as usual, but Janet wasn’t at the counter. The young man named Daniel was standing there, his hands flying as he prepped coffees for customers. A cluster of tourists was gathered at the counter. He glanced up, smiling at me. “Are you here for Janet? Or something else?”
“Both.” I could always use more coffee, so I ordered a Shot in the Dark.
After I paid, and he handed over my coffee, he gestured me into the bakery in the back where Janet was working. I found her at the wide stain
less steel table in the center of the room. She had on an apron dusted with flour, and she was busy kneading dough.
“Hey, Janet,” I called as the door swung closed behind me.
She looked up with a smile, using her elbow to nudge a loose lock a hair out of her eyes. “Hi, Jasmine, so good to see you. Have a seat,” she said, lifting her chin in the direction of the stool beside the counter directly across from where she was working.
I slipped onto the stool, letting my purse slide to the floor. I watched her knead for a few minutes as I sipped my coffee.
“My mom mentioned she talked to you about a space for me for work,” I finally said, not sure why I was so nervous to ask.
Janet was like family to me. I supposed my anxiety was all tangled up in how much it meant to me. Now that I was staring down a potential deadline if I didn’t find a place to start throwing pottery soon, I was even more anxious.
In the back of my mind, I figured, in a pinch, I could make some calls around Anchorage and see if anyone would let me use a shared studio. But I didn’t have connections there and that might take as much time as this.
Janet looked up with a warm smile. “Of course I did. That space is just sitting there. Back when Dan was alive, he used it for his own personal garage. That’s where he would take care of things on his car, and had all of his tools and what not. For a long time, I just left all of his stuff there. A few years ago, I finally got around to giving it all away and now the space is just empty. I think it would be perfect for what you need. I already told your mother you can do whatever you need to get it ready. Then, when you can afford rent, we’ll work something out.”
A smile bloomed from the inside out as I looked over at Janet. “That could definitely work,” I finally said.
I was almost giddy with excitement. All this time, I’d been scraping by with odd jobs and working in galleries, and somehow trying to reach a point where I could do pottery mostly full-time. All along, I’d pretty much convinced myself I could only make it happen away from Willow Brook. Strangely, the universe was quite politely showing the opposite to be true. I just might be able to have it all right here.
Janet continued kneading the dough, rolling it into a tidy ball before setting it in an oiled bowl. She wiped her hands on her apron, resting them both on her hips as she smiled over at me.
“Perfect,” she said. She turned to wash her hands in a sink behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she pointed to a door at the back of the kitchen beside the massive walk-in freezer.
“I need to keep at this. I’ve got a few more things to get ready here, but you can go take a look. As far as I’m concerned, you just do what you need to do back there. I’ll get you a key, so you can enter through the outside. I’m assuming you’ll need to take care of a few things to set up the space. Just let me know if you need anything.”
Standing, I rounded the table and pulled Janet into a quick hug. She squeezed me tight as I stepped back, snagging a towel to dry her hands. “We’re glad you’re home, honey.”
Someone called her name. “Duty calls,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried away. “Take a look and let me know what you need.”
The swinging door whooshed as she pushed through it. Snagging my purse off the floor, I walked into the back, coffee in hand.
I vaguely remembered coming back here when Janet’s husband was alive. There had been a bunch of tools stored back here, and he always had some kind of project happening. Now, it was just a big empty space. The concrete floor was stained the same soft blue as the front. I chuckled softly, wondering when Janet had done that. The walls were bare and had shelving on two sides. It felt like a garage because it was a garage. The big door was closed, and there was a single door beside it. Windows on either side allowed light in. Dust motes floated in the air, catching the rays of sun angling through.
I meandered around the empty space, trying to envision the best way to set it up. I figured I would have my kiln in one corner with a worktable in the center and my throwing wheel in another corner.
Taking a deep breath, I let myself out the back, wondering who to ask to help me get everything set up. Lucy had offered, yet I knew she and Amelia were very busy this time of year. Building season in Alaska was short and crazy. Levi or my father would be other options. My hesitancy to ask for help was a little rough patch, but I’d get past it. I had to.
To force myself over that speed bump, I slipped my phone out of my pocket, stopping to sit on a bench outside of Janet’s B&B. I quickly pulled up Risa’s number and dialed.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hi Risa, it’s Jasmine.”
“Oh hey,” she said, her voice warm. “Any updates for me?”
“That’s why I was calling. I found a space for my studio. Give me another few weeks, and I should be able to talk to you about a timeline. Are you still sure about this?”
Risa laughed. “Of course I’m sure! I’ve already talked to Ethan and Jack, the owners of the other galleries. They’re totally stoked. Just give us a heads-up on timing, so we can make sure we have display space everywhere.”
Joy buzzed inside of me and tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. This was going to be perfect. The terrifying part, hoping people actually bought my work, would come later. For now, I needed to get there.
Chapter Nineteen
Donovan
I leaned back against a fallen tree on the ground, tipping my head to look up at the sky. A week had passed since my night with Jasmine. I hadn’t seen her since, yet I could hardly stop thinking about her when I had a spare moment. After our crew was called out to a fire in a neighboring town, I returned home that night, but it had been late.
I had rolled out of bed before dawn the following morning when our crew was called out to another fire out in the Interior. These calls weren’t unusual. We dealt with them all summer long.
Yet, it bothered me I hadn’t had a chance to see Jasmine before leaving for this long again.
And what would you have done? You were the one who said nothing could happen with her. You blew that up.
My mind taunted me. Hell, I’d burned that promise to myself to ashes.
She was just too damn tempting, and it felt too damn good to be with her. Being with her was a little slice of heaven—a hot, burning, yearning kind of heaven.
For the first time in years, I actually wondered about a woman. By no means had I been a monk since my engagement fell apart, but I had kept to a narrow path called “casual.” Honestly, I’d yet to encounter a woman who tempted me otherwise. Jasmine had caught the ends of the threads stitched around my heart and unraveled them so rapidly, I didn’t know what to think.
It was late, and we were hunkered down for the night. The smell of smoke drifted through the air, and the stars winked above as night claimed the sky. We were a good distance from the fire now. We’d worked damn hard to establish firebreaks around it and had gotten the fire contained at this point. We’d received word we would be heading back to Willow Brook tomorrow. Given that we were all tired and weary, we were ready for a break.
For the first time in years, I had something, or rather someone, to look forward to when I got home. A while later, I lay on top of my sleeping bag, my head propped on my hands as I stared at the sky, drifting to sleep with the thought of Jasmine and the look in her eyes when she flew apart passing through my mind.
The following day, I watched as the landscape passed by underneath the helicopter. We were flying over a section of the forest where the fire had started and had ravaged acres upon acres of spruce. Blackened trees were stark against the sky, the landscape looking desolate. Yet, with a glance to the side, I could see the firebreaks we’d created in the distance and a wide river holding back the fire.
Another hotshot crew from Fairbanks had flown in this morning to take care of the last section of that fire. Looking ahead, the mountains came into view. Denali, the centerpiece of the Alaskan Range and the tallest pea
k in North America, rose tall in the sky—a fortress of spectacular beauty. Its snow-tipped peak was bright against the blue sky.
The sight of Denali meant we were within a half hour of Willow Brook. Jasmine sashayed through my thoughts—the feel of her hair, soft and silky, and the feel of her channel, slick, snug, hot … and home.
To me.
I was going fucking crazy. To think, for even a minute, that any woman could feel like home to me—that was crazy. And dangerous. Yet, my body wanted what it wanted, and the impossible appeared to be happening. Lust was tangled up in emotion when it came to Jasmine. I didn’t know what the hell to think about that.
Levi said something, and I glanced over. “Yeah?”
Chatting in the helicopter wasn’t easy, not with the hum of the blades circling overhead.
“Just saying it’s going to be good to get home,” Levi said.
Somehow, I’d boxed out the fact he was Jasmine’s older brother. Just now, that fact came barreling at me. If he had any clue about how intimate I’d been with her, he’d kick my fucking ass. I chose to continue ignoring the ramifications of that for now.
“Always good to get home,” I replied. “You stopping by Wildlands?”
We often grabbed dinner and a few drinks together when we got back. After we showered at the station, it was a fitting way to end a tough stint as a crew.
Levi shrugged. “Probably, but if Lucy wants me home, that’s where I’ll be,” he said, flashing a quick grin.
“Of course. If I were you, I’d always stay on Lucy’s good side,” I offered.
Levi chuckled. “Oh, I do, trust me.”
It was a joke around the station that Lucy had once been uniquely resistant to Levi’s teasing and flirting. But Levi was nothing if not persistent, and he’d plain worn her down. Now, they were happily married and expecting their first baby.
