Liam laughed. Then he glanced at me. “Don’t let him fool you. Sharon spoils him, too. She just gives it all to me to bring to his house because he doesn’t scare me.”
“I don’t scare anyone,” Alex muttered, dark.
I couldn’t really imagine Alex scaring anyone. Not considering how snarky and easygoing he always seemed. But then I thought back to the hospital, about how that ominous look came into his eyes and how Liam mentioned he’d been in the army.
Liam slapped Alex on the back and smiled. I turned back to get the plates.
“Speaking of guns. We need to hit the range.”
I whirled around, plates in hand.
“I was thinking the same,” Alex said.
Neither of them seemed to notice me standing there gaping. “What are you talking about?”
Liam glanced at me. The edges of his lips turned down. “Alex and I go shoot at the range sometimes. Never know when you might need shooting skills.”
Alex guffawed. “Should have seen our boy when we first started going. He couldn’t hit a target from three feet away.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed.
Alex held up his hands, surrendering. “It’s true. You sucked.”
“I don’t suck anymore.” The absolute confidence he spoke with made me squirm a little.
“True dat.” Alex flung his arm around Liam’s shoulder. “I taught him everything I learned in the army.” An ornery look lit his blue eyes. “Though, you still can’t outshoot me.”
Liam pushed Alex away, which made him laugh.
“You have a gun?” I asked, wishing my voice didn’t sound so hollow. “In this house?”
Both guys glanced at me, their expressions changing from fun to concern. I swallowed, waiting for Liam to reply. He set down the bread, which was partly unwrapped, something I hadn’t noticed until just then.
“I have a few guns, sweetheart.”
A hollow feeling punched into my stomach. When I breathed, it felt as though my middle were caving in on itself.
Liam’s hands closed around my arms. “Bellamy.”
“I—ah, I’ll just head out,” Alex said, bringing me fully back to the present.
“No!” I said, jolting out of the moment I’d just had. “Stay. Have breakfast and coffee. You can keep Liam company while I take a shower and get dressed.” I stepped around Liam to pick up the loaf of bread to unwrap it completely so I could slice some.
There was a huge bite taken out of the end.
“Who did this?” I said, pointing at it.
Alex widened his eyes and pointed at Liam. Liam pointed at Alex.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. They were like a pair of little boys!
“Liam!” I turned my eyes on him. “Did you take a bite out of this? I was getting plates!”
“Why do you just assume it was me?” he demanded.
“You have crumbs on your lip.”
He brushed them off quickly as he mumbled, “You were taking a long time.”
I laughed. Alex seemed to think it was very funny Liam got caught. I turned to him. “Oh, please. Like you weren’t gonna take the next bite.”
That wiped the smile off his face.
I sighed and set down the bread to slice off the end with the bite in it. “You’re like animals,” I muttered.
Charlie looked up at me from the floor and licked his lips. I broke off a piece of the bitten slice and tossed it to him. “Good boy,” I crooned.
“Hey!” Liam exclaimed. “That’s good eats!”
I broke off another piece and fed it to him. The way he smiled at me as his lips brushed over my fingertips made my legs go all wobbly.
The next slice I cut Alex snatched off the island before I could even move it to a plate. “I give up,” I declared, cutting a few more pieces. “You two are manner-less.”
A piece of the bread Liam snatched appeared in front of my lips. “I think you might be hangry,” he told me solemnly. I gave him a deadly look. He nodded. “Bite.”
I took a bite. The scent of it right beneath my nose was too hard to pass up. It was moist and sweet, with the perfect amount of banana. “That is good,” I said, chewing. “I need the recipe.”
“It’s a secret,” Alex said, snatching another piece.
“You asked her for her bread recipe?” I said, dubious. I could not picture Alex in the kitchen, cooking anything.
“My moms did. Sharon won’t give it up.”
“Your moms,” I repeated. Why in the world did he have to add an s to the end of her name? Why in the heck did it make it sound more charming that way?
“Hmm.” I turned thoughtful. “Maybe if I take her a loaf of pumpkin bread, she will trade recipes with me.”
Liam’s hand clamped around my wrist. “You make pumpkin bread?”
I nodded, a little flurry of butterflies sounding off in my belly.
“Pumpkin is Liam’s kryptonite,” Alex said. “Pumpkin and tacos.” He amended.
“I know,” I said softly, glancing up into my lover’s gray eyes. His stare went soft and then beyond just a look. His eyes felt more like a caress.
“You remember I like pumpkin?”
“Just like you remember I don’t like mayo.” I’d spent a long time perfecting my pumpkin bread recipe, trying to make something he would like. I never thought he’d actually eat it, but making something I knew he would like… It made me feel closer to him even though we were so very far apart.
Our stares bounced between each other for a few charged moments before I finished up what I was doing, then stepped away from the island. “I’d tell you not to eat it all, but I know you will,” I said, gathering up some of the bags Alex brought over.
Chewing loudly, Liam appeared and took the entire load out of my arms. “I got this,” he said, still chomping.
I picked up the duffle and followed him back to the bedroom, where he tossed all the bags on the bed. I put the duffle on the floor and then moved to dump out a few of the shopping bags of new clothes so I could find something to put on. “Thanks,” I told him, reaching for a soft, loose sweater.
“Bells.”
My shoulders slumped a little. “I’m fine, Liam.”
He sat on the end of the bed and pulled me between his legs. Taking the sweater I was holding, he tossed it aside and threaded his fingers through mine.
“You don’t like that I have a gun.”
I shrugged. “This is your house. You can have whatever you want.”
His body went rigid, and his hands left mine, settling on my hips to give me a shake. “No. This is our house now. Yours and mine.”
I looked into his eyes. My heart squeezed. “I’m not against guns. I just—” my sentence ended there, my voice fading away.
“You don’t like them.” He finished.
“I watched my father get shot to death. I’ve been held at gunpoint more than once. Shot at…” My lips clamped together.
Liam stood, gathering me against his chest. I sighed and sank into him. He smelled so good. Like a new winter day. But he was warm, and his body easily surrounded mine. I buried my face in his chest, using him to blur out the images I’d just described.
I didn’t like guns. I never would. To me, they represented death and finality. Still, I understood why having them here wasn’t a bad idea.
His palm cradled the back of my head as he rocked me back and forth slowly. After a minute, he kissed the top of my hair.
“If I could take away all the shit you’ve been through, I would do it in a heartbeat. I know I was only a kid eight years ago, but if I had known what your dad was all about back then, I would have done something. I would have kept you away from it all.”
“I didn’t want away from him,” I said, turning my cheek so he could hear my voice. “He was my father, and I loved him.”
I felt Liam digest my words. I knew he didn’t like them. He probably felt the way my mother had, felt I was better off not knowing him. I couldn’t say if they
were right. Maybe they were. It didn’t really matter though, did it?
I’d made my choice, and even after everything, I couldn’t regret getting to know the little bit I did about my father.
Liam pulled back, taking my face in his hands to gaze into my eyes. “I want to give you everything, sweetheart. Hell, I will make it my life’s work. But please don’t ask me to get rid of the guns. I can’t. I won’t. Getting rid of them is getting rid of a source of protection I have for you. With everything going on, with the men after you, I have to do everything I can to keep you safe.”
Emotion welled up inside me. “I know.”
He blew out a breath, relief shining in his eyes. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “I understand. I guess I just hadn’t really expected you would have them…”
He made a low sound. “We live on a mountain, sweetheart. There’s wildlife. There’s a resort full of strangers very close by. I don’t hunt, and I don’t take them out for sport or even fun. Alex and I do take them to the range because part of having them in the house is knowing how to use them responsibly.”
“You don’t have to explain. I trust you.”
“Your trust isn’t something I take for granted. I just want you know where I’m coming from.”
Rising onto tiptoes, I pressed a lingering, soft kiss to his mouth. The whiskers against his chin and above his lip tickled. “I understand.” I promised.
“Love you,” he murmured, still kissing me.
I smiled.
“Need some help in the shower?” His hand slid up the back of my thigh, dipping under the shirt.
“Alex is waiting for you.” I reminded him.
“Eating all my bread,” he grumped.
“I’ll make you more.”
Liam drew away slowly. “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t.” I promised.
When he was gone, the sense of foreboding I’d felt when they were talking about guns returned. It wasn’t just the guns, though. It was having my stuff officially here. Having Alex over… Life moving on.
The two days of alone time we’d had just weren’t enough. That was ending, though. Real life and all the problems that came with it wasn’t something anyone could put off.
Liam
I did it.
I made the call to my parents.
Since I’d hung up the phone—hell—ever since I’d dialed their number, a heavy rock settled in my stomach, weighing me down, leaving me with that overfull, uncomfortable feeling.
Bellamy came out of the bathroom, a brush in her hand and a frown on her face.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I asked, unable to not peruse her body with my eyes as she walked closer. It was the first time in days she’d been dressed in anything other than one of my shirts. The jeans she wore were more fitted than the ones she’d arrived at BearPaw in. The dark color molded to her ass in a way I frankly found sinful. I’d almost said something about it when she came into the kitchen earlier after her shower, but I figured me telling her I didn’t want other people appreciating the view wouldn’t go over very well.
The sweater she had on was loose. The gray fabric was soft and slid off her one shoulder, exposing some of her creamy skin.
“My hair is a mess,” she declared, tossing the brush onto the bed.
“Looks good to me.”
She gave me a look. “I have total bed head because that’s exactly where I’ve been for two days. I should have washed it again this morning, but it’s too much work with only one arm.”
I glanced at her shoulder, the one she’d separated in the avalanche. It was easy to forget it was injured, especially when she wasn’t wearing the sling. “Are you hurting?” I asked, concerned.
Before she even replied, I went to the dresser and retrieved the sling off the top. “I should have made you wear this.”
“I’ve been in bed. It’s not like we’ve been doing that much,” she rebutted. Her voice grew softer the closer I got. Her blue gaze dropped to my chest, then slid back up.
Not doing much = sex. But even so, I’d been careful with her. Of her.
“Did I hurt you this morning?” I kept my voice soft like a caress and brushed the back of my knuckles lightly over the injured shoulder. “I was rough. I wasn’t thinking about your shoulder.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “I don’t think either of us were thinking at all.”
I was thinking now, though. Thinking about a repeat of this morning. I shook the thought off. It didn’t go far, clinging to the back of my thoughts like an itch that needed scratched. “Put this on.” I pulled the sling over her head and positioned it.
The look on her face was adorably grumpy, and I chuckled. I guided her arm into the sling, noting the slight drawn look around her eyes. I sighed. “I was too rough.”
“No.” The word came fast. “You were perfect. I’m just sore. Probably best I wear this today.”
I frowned. “I’ll call the PT place I used when I moved back here. See if they can get you in. I’ll come with and see what all they are recommending. Then I’ll work with you here at home, too.”
“You will?” Her voice was small, almost shy.
I kissed her quickly. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
“What about your knee?”
I made a sound. “I’ll do PT after that thermal shrinkage procedure.”
“That’s next week, right? In Denver?”
“Yeah.” I could barely think about that right now, though. Funny how the last time I hurt my knee, it took over my whole life. Right after the avalanche, I’d been worried. Hell, in the hospital, I’d been worried. I saw my hopes of returning to snowboarding circling the drain for a second time.
The bitterness and anger still swirled inside me. Even Bells saw it. But right now? Right now, it was the last thing on my mind. Right now, that darkness was being fed by more than just my injury.
I was too concerned with what my father would tell me when we got to their house. I was worried about Bells and the look in her eyes when we talked a while ago about guns.
How much shit could be heaped on a man before he snapped? How severe of a blizzard could hammer a mountain before we all got buried?
Small fingers touched my chest. I glanced down, drawn away from my turbulent thoughts to be soothed by troubled sapphire eyes. “Are you worried?”
I rested my hand over hers. “About my knee?” I shook my head once. “Not right now.”
Her brows drew down.
I smiled. “It’s all about perspective, I guess. I have more important things to be worried about right now.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Your family.”
I nodded, noticing the way her very long hair was trapped beneath the straps of the sling. Carefully, I went about freeing it.
“I tried to braid it, but holding my arm up that long hurt.” She made a face. “I’m going to look a mess when I meet your parents.”
“You met them at the hospital,” I pointed out.
She made a rude sound. She tossed her free arm up in the air. “And I looked even worse then!”
I thought it was kinda cute the way she was worried about what my parents thought. I knew they couldn’t give a rat’s ass. Hell, this was the girl who literally managed to hold my heart for eight years without even being around.
“I know they won’t care.” Bellamy sighed. “It’s silly to even think about considering…” She swallowed and glanced up at me. She expected bad news, too.
I picked up the brush and smiled. “First world problems are still allowed even when we have the worst world problems going down, too.”
She stared blankly.
I grinned. “You don’t know what first world problems are?”
“I’m kinda surprised you do.”
I laughed. “I have a TV.”
She giggled.
I gestured for her to turn around. “I have work to do, woman.”
“You’re go
ing to brush my hair?” She was highly doubtful but clearly also intrigued.
“Just helping my girl out,” I said, beginning to brush through the very long golden strands. I loved her hair. It was like a waterfall of sunshine down her back.
I didn’t realize I’d professed my love for it out loud until she answered, “They wanted me to cut it.”
I paused. “Who?”
Even though she was facing away, I heard the smile in her voice. “Witness protection.”
I grunted and started brushing again. “The Feds are assholes.”
“They did keep me alive during the trial and for a year after.”
Begrudgingly, I relented. “Well, there is that.”
“They wanted me to cut it and dye it dark.” She went on. “But I couldn’t do it. I flat out refused. They were quite sour about it.”
“Assholes,” I muttered, still stroking her now tangle-free stands with the brush.
“I remembered how much you liked it,” she whispered, shy. “You told me once you liked it long.”
“I still do,” I told her, hoarse. It still got me, knowing how much she thought of me all that time we were apart. How much we were still part of each other’s lives even in absence. “It’s even longer now.”
“Leaving it long made me think of you.” She paused. “It’s silly.”
I stopped brushing, gently pulling her around. “It’s not. It’s fucking music to my ears.” My stare pierced hers. The regret I sometimes felt for not going after her all those years ago was so heavy. Almost crushing.
I reached out for the length again and gave her a rueful smile. “I’ll braid it.”
Surprise covered her face. “You know how to braid?”
“Ye of little faith,” I said, guiding her back around. “I’m an excellent braider.”
I was a lying liar.
But it was okay to be a lying liar if it made your girl smile, right? Besides, how hard could it be to braid?
My girl wanted braids. I would make it happen.
“Whose hair do you braid?” she asked, clearly doubtful.
“You know, people with long hair.” I hedged.
She paused. It was a poignant sound. “Past girlfriends?”
“No!” I said swiftly, not even wanting that idea in her brain. I leaned around so I could stare into her eyes. “You’re the only girlfriend whose hair I’ve ever braided.”
Blizzard (BearPaw Resort #2) Page 6
