Mountain Made Baby

by Aria Ford

  My poor body yearned for him. That grunt of laughter worked strange magic on me and made me ready to lie back and feel him inside me. I knew I was getting ready and resisted the urge to slide my hand between my thighs to check. I was not—absolutely not—going to let myself fantasize about Carson now. I must have managed, because the next thing I knew I was lying in my room and someone was making coffee and singing in the kitchen below me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Amelia

  I showered and dressed and tiptoed down to the kitchen below. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock yet. My body was not yet used to the fact that I was on holiday. It seemed the only other person in the house who was still on work-schedule was Brett.

  “Hi, sis,” he said quietly. He was sitting at the table alone, still in his nightgown, a cup of coffee and his phone out in front of him. I smiled into his bluntly-handsome face.

  “Hi, bro. You couldn’t sleep?” I asked. He looked tired, gray imprints under his sky-blue eyes.

  “I slept,” he laughed, then winced at the noise. “I just can’t seem to go on holiday.” He sighed. “Old habits and all that.”

  “Me too,” I nodded.

  “Coffee?” He stood and pushed in his chair with exaggerated quietness and went to the kettle.

  “Yes, thanks, bro.” I took a seat at the table, breathing in the morning scent of coffee and toothpaste and relaxing in the chic simplicity of my brother’s home’s kitchen. He stirred my coffee and brought it to me—black and sweet, just as I liked it. I smiled.

  “You always remember how I like my coffee.”

  “Of course I do,” Brett whispered back. “Not just because you’re my favorite sister, but ‘cos it’s the opposite to mine.”

  I laughed. “I am your only sister, Brett.” He grinned.

  “But you’re still my favorite.”

  I sighed and gave him a weary smile. “I missed you.”

  “Me too.”

  We sat in silence for a while. I sipped coffee and appreciated having time with my brother. It was just like when we were kids. I breathed on the steam, watching it make patterns. He was looking through the open window where the faintest orange sunrise was starting.

  “You didn’t mind about…” he tossed a hand toward the stairs indicating—I guessed—Carson’s presence in the room opposite the stairwell.

  I sighed. It was typical of my mischievous and absentminded brother that he would have thought to invite Carson when I was here. Quite whether he meant for us to meet up or whether it was a grand overhaul of memory, I wasn’t sure.

  “No, Brett.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Upstairs, we heard footsteps cross the ceiling and someone went into the shower. The kids giggled. I tried to decide what I was feeling.

  “It’s just…you might have warned me.”

  “Carson?” he asked, sipping his coffee thoughtfully.

  “Yeah.” I sighed.

  “I’m sorry, sis,” Brett said softly. “It’s just…I couldn’t leave him alone.”

  “I know,” I said. “You told me earlier. But…”

  “But what?” he asked, brow raised in curious obliviousness.

  I stared. “Brett, you might have told me more!” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but it sounded as if everyone was waking anyways. “I’m sorry,” I added, slumping a little. “I just find it hard to figure out how much of him has changed and how much hasn’t.”

  “I know.” Brett sighed. He slumped forward, elbows on knees. “I just didn’t know if it’d upset you.”

  “Well, seeing him face-to-face didn’t seem like something upsetting, so…”

  Brett heard the irony in my voice and closed his eyes momentarily. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be,” I said softly. “You didn’t do it.”

  “No.” He knew what I meant. The issues with Carson and I weren’t his fault. “Well, I guess I should fill you in on some details.”

  “Is he likely to overhear it?” I asked, casting my eyes in the direction of the stairs.

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Brett observed. “He’s probably sleeping. We can close the kitchen door if you’d prefer.”

  I nodded.

  “Carson got back from the army last year,” Brett explained, closing the door and joining me here. “He contacted me about a month afterward. Said he was in Boulder.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know he lived in Boulder. His parents used to live in Aspen.

  “He came to see me, once.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know that either. Though I probably should have guessed, since the kids knew who he was.

  “He was…quite different.”

  “He seemed the same to me,” I said. He was a little older, his face softer with a few lines where there hadn’t been any before, but he still had the same sparkling eyes, the wicked smile. He was Carson and unfortunately my heart hadn’t forgotten him.

  “Well, in some way, yeah,” Brett said carefully. “The war…it does things to people Mel.”

  “I imagine so,” I said carefully.

  “He was…he was having trouble when he got back,” Brett explained. “I think he’s okay now. But it was hard for him at first. To adjust. To return.”

  “I can imagine,” I repeated myself, though I wasn’t sure I really could. I had read a bit about the cost of war—the way soldiers were affected by it years afterward, the toll it took on their lives. All I knew about it was that it was beyond what I could comprehend.

  “He’s okay now,” Brett said. “At least, he says he’s stabilized.”

  “Good,” I said feelingly. The thought of quiet, distant Carson being wounded in ways I couldn’t see troubled me. He was stable; a rock. That was one of the things I had loved about him: that there was never a problem that seemed too big for him. He liked challenges. Actually, he didn’t see anything as impossible, so I guess there weren’t any challenges to him.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have invited him here,” Brett said softly. “But I couldn’t not.”

  “I understand.”

  That, I did understand. Brett was always warmhearted. He had filled our house with people and laughter when I was growing up; and he was always holding open arms out. My mom had always said he was overly-generous, that he would bankrupt himself one day. I hadn’t believed her.

  “Reese wasn’t sure about it,” Brett confided.

  Reese was always cautious. I thought, not for the first time, that Nature had created Brett and Reese for partners. As careless and lively as Brett was, Reese was thoughtful and reserved. She was a high-powered executive for a boutique chain and she took no nonsense from anyone; not even from Brett. A more light and fun-loving person, Brett’s friendly openness was tempered by her care.

  “If you wanted to have him here, I think it was the right thing,” I said hesitantly.

  “Thanks, sister.” Brett smiled. He patted my hand where it lay on the table in front of him. “I appreciate it.”

  I smiled. Together we sat in the comfortable silence of his kitchen and listened to the noises in the street, the ticking clock, the breeze. The clock said it was eight-thirty and I yawned. I really was tired after the day’s driving.

  “Want to go to sleep again?” Brett asked, looking at me caringly. “The rest of them will probably only join us at nine or so.”

  “I’m okay,” I lied. In truth, the tension and long drive had just caught up with me. I would love to take a rest. My body just didn’t want to play along and let me off the hook.

  “Well, then,” Brett smiled, patting my hand again. “We have a whole week to talk.”

  “We do,” I agreed. “Almost Christmas too.”

  Brett laughed. “Isn’t it, though? I really should get some last-minute shopping.”

  I rolled my eyes. That was typical Brett. “You mean, you haven’t done your gifts yet?”

  “Two of them,” he admitted. I laughed.

  “Brett, my brother, don’t ever change
.”

  He chuckled. “I would have thought change was what I needed most right now.”

  “No,” I insisted, looking into his eyes fondly. “If you changed, I wouldn’t know what was going on. You’re my anchor. If you weren’t unpredictable, everything would change.”

  Brett smiled. “Thanks, sis.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I laughed. “Now, I really am going to need some more coffee, before I fall asleep here at the table.”

  “I can recommend the spare room.” Brett grinned. “More comfortable by far.”

  I laughed. “I believe it, brother. It was last night.”

  I stood to make more coffee and pushed my chair in, blinking to keep myself awake. He stood too and hugged me.

  “It’s so good to have you here, sis.”

  I squeezed his shoulder as we stepped apart, looking up into his earnest, smiling face. “It’s good to be here,” I said sincerely.

  As I made coffee, Reese appeared in the kitchen, already dressed. “Hey! Hello,” she said warmly.

  “Hi,” I said, then turned back to the minutiae of making coffee. I heard someone cross the ceiling, a heavier footfall, and my heart tightened, knowing who it was. Carson.

  The heart is a strange thing and my own had not forgotten Carson Grant.

  “I’ll go get dressed,” Brett said, grinning. “I can’t be the only one at breakfast without clothes.”

  Reese laughed. “You do have clothes.”

  “Well, I’d probably have gotten arrested if I didn’t,” he laughed. “Mr. Peterson next door would have looked through here and phoned the police.”

  We all laughed and I felt glad that I had come to visit.

  If I could just sort out my feelings about Carson, I thought, I would be completely happy.

  While Brett was upstairs getting dressed, the kids came down to join us.

  “Auntie Amelia!” Cayley said cheerfully. “There you are.” She slid into the seat beside me and I smiled at her.

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Very well, thank you.” She replied, voice prim.

  I smiled. “That’s good. Josh?”

  “I slept like an elephant!” he declared proudly. I frowned, confused.

  “How do elephants sleep?”

  “No!” he giggled. “Not like an elephant. I slept so big as an elephant.” He held out his arms, an all-encompassing gesture.

  “Oh!” I laughed, the inexorable logic of it lifting my mood. “Good.”

  Cayley giggled. “Did you sleep as big as an elephant, auntie?”

  I smiled. “I slept a bit.”

  As Reese passed me the milk and I settled down to breakfast, I thought that if only I could keep my mind off Carson Grant I might sleep as big as an elephant after all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Carson

  The next morning, I went downstairs at nine for breakfast. I was pleased to find that I was not too late. In fact, it seemed, I was early: Of all the family, only Brett and Reese were down there, having toast in the early morning sun. The kitchen smelled of fresh-brewed coffee and toast and a delicious warmth.

  “Morning,” I said quietly, tiptoeing round in my trainers to an unoccupied seat. I didn’t want to wake up anyone who was sleeping. Especially not Amelia. I remembered she loved sleeping in. when I saw an empty coffee-mug on the drainboard, I raised a brow. There were lipstick stains on it and I wondered if it was hers.

  “Hey, Carson.” Brett smiled, breaking my focus. “A good rest last night?”

  “Coffee?” Reese asked at once.

  “Mm.” I nodded, enthusiastically. “Yes, please. That’d be great.” I took a seat at the table.

  Brett laughed. “You and coffee. The day when you say no to that is the day Hell freezes over.”

  “I don’t drink that much coffee,” I said, pretending to be defensive. He laughed.

  “And it doesn’t snow in winter either.”

  “Well…” I looked out of the window onto the bare, cold ground of the yard, where there was clearly no snow. Brett groaned.

  “Reese, remind me that this man always has to try beating me…”

  We chuckled. Reese passed me a mug of coffee.

  “Thanks,” I said fervently, and I closed my eyes, drinking it appreciatively. The kitchen was warm, morning sun cheery. I leaned back to savor it.

  “Is everyone asleep?” I asked, looking at the stairs. As if in answer, a giggle drifted down to us.

  “Amelia’s with the kids,” Brett said. “When she stays here she often plays with them.”

  “Really?” I was surprised. The thought of Amelia being playful and liking kids was something that hadn’t occurred to me before. My heart lurched painfully.

  “Yes,” Reese nodded. “She’s a great help.”

  “We would pay her to move to LA.”

  We all laughed. “She’s great,” I agreed. “I can imagine she’s a help.”

  “Yes.” Brett nodded. He gave me a funny look—considering, maybe—and I blushed, looking into my coffee.

  I was surprised by how much I felt for Amelia. I was, if anything, even more surprised by how little had changed between us. She was still everything I wanted and I was still ragingly, impossibly, wildly attracted to her.

  The connection is still there too.

  Sitting next to her at dinner had been so uncomfortable, for two reasons. Firstly, because every time I breathed in, I could smell the sweet floral scent of her and it was driving my poor body wild. Second, because every time I saw her, we were young again and alone, looking at each other with love.

  And walking into her coming out of the shower had been something else.

  My lips lifted into an unstoppable grin. My cock was hard just thinking of what it had been like, standing there in the corridor with my eyes feasting on her body and her eying me out.

  I never expected it to be like this now. That was the thing that was the hardest. The fact that, now, I couldn’t deny it anymore. I loved Amelia. I had forced myself to forget it; made myself believe that she was my first girlfriend and that was why it’d been so epic, so wonderful. But it wasn’t that.

  I’m thirty-one now and not exactly inexperienced. And I still feel just the same.

  She was still upstairs with the kids: I could just hear her giggling as she played with them, making it so hard to concentrate on what Brett was trying to tell me. My mind was up there with her, watching her laugh and tickle them and be the lighthearted, beautiful person I always loved.

  The conversation had shifted, some time, to when Brett and Reese moved into their house together. I realized I had been daydreaming and shifted gear, focusing on their words. It wasn’t hard to catch up.

  “…and then we added a garage at the back…”

  “Mm,” I nodded, trying to add some comment to the conversation to make it clear I wasn’t completely ignoring him. I wasn’t—I was just preoccupied with the new usual: thinking of Amelia.

  “You should have seen it!” Reese was laughing. “You’d think he was building it himself, he was so proud!”

  I laughed too. I could imagine it of Brett. It was weird, seeing him and how he’d settled down. He was always such a firebrand when we were in college together—always on the football pitch or at parties. Always starting something. I often found myself feeling protective of him, since his open, direct nature sometimes led him into danger. But now, he had settled down.

  “Brett Carlyle, house-proud dad.”

  I saluted him with my glass. He pulled a tongue.

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?” he asked, when we had stopped laughing.

  “Nothing,” I said wistfully. “Nothing at all. It’s great.”

  I meant it. Seeing him here, so happy and settled with his loved ones made me feel a yearning for something similar. It was strange. All my life I had resisted that, wanting to be free and alone. I had imagined a family and a wife would prevent that. Now I was starting to see that the love and support of Brett’s
family actually made it easier for him to achieve more.

  “You are staying in Boulder permanently?” Reese asked. I nodded.

  “I’m discharged, Reese,” I reminded her gently.

  “Good,” she said, nodding her head. Brett grinned.

  “Discharged! So he can’t explode anymore, Reese.”

  I grimaced. It was a funny pun, but for me it made my skin crawl. Anyone who has stood on land that could be mined, or waited for a bomb to drop didn’t joke about exploding.

  “Yeah,” I said quietly.

  Brett seemed to realize he hit a nerve, because he cleared his throat. “Well, does anyone want some more muesli? I do.”

  I heard his chair scrape as he headed into the kitchen. I looked at Reese, who lifted her shoulder in a shrug and gave a light laugh.

  “Well, it’s good you could be here with us for Christmas,” she said warmly. I nodded once more.

  “Yes. I’m glad too.”

  We sat in a polite silence until Brett joined us, bringing the milk and cereals with him. He put it in the middle of the table so we could all take some. I tried to think of something to say, but I felt too distracted to make conversation. Upstairs, the laughter had quietened.

  “I wonder if Amelia’s staying up there?” Brett chuckled. Reese smiled.

  “She’s great with the kids,” she observed for a second time, running her fingers along her collar thoughtfully. “I don’t know what I’d do without her sometimes!” She seemed on edge and I felt bad. I hadn’t meant for my sudden gloominess to put pressure on her.

  “Yeah,” Brett chuckled. “Like when we were skiing. Remember?”

  “Yes!” Reese laughed. “I nearly died laughing about that. So typical Amelia.”

  “Oh?” I asked, raising a brow. A story about Amelia was going to be interesting. I leaned forward in my chair expectantly.

  “Yeah!” he said to me. “We were we in the mountains. It must have been last year, actually. Anyway, Amelia was with us and…it was last year, wasn’t it—Josh was four?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Reese affirmed.