Snow Jam

by Rachel Hanna

  I spent a week finishing packing and changing things over to Jenna's name, which was so much simpler than turning off in one place and on in the other. I'd rented a studio apartment in Hanlin to tide me over until I found something good and saw what the cost of living really was. (I'm in economic development – I know how every economy claims a reasonable cost of living and how many lie.)

  Finally I got in my car in the blazing desert heat and drove basically across the country until I got to Georgia, spent one night with Sunny during which I had the chance to thank Kurt for the Rick info, and struck out for my new studio on Sunday morning. On Monday I got to work early, met the new admin executive assistant, Reggie, who still seemed lost, and she showed me to my office, where I was lost.

  "You've already met most of the team," she said brightly. She was tall and lanky with a wild crop of springy salt and pepper curls. "There's a meeting at ten in the conference room, so whoever you haven't met, you can then."

  I caught her before she escaped. I had an office and a computer which turned out to want passwords I didn't have yet and I had a window to look out of and some files to look at, but I had nothing to do.

  "Just make yourself at home," she said in the bright voice of someone who, benignly or not, doesn't care what you do. "You don't have to be on point the instant you get here. Oh, and Rick wanted to see you."

  I blinked. I hadn't slept well the night before but surely I'd misheard her.

  "Who?"

  "Oh, right. Since you were here last. Rick is our new communications director." And she was gone. How I was supposed to see this Rick was a mystery, as she'd left me no directions, but that was OK as long as I was wrong, wrong, wrong about what I was imagining.

  I got acquainted with my office and waited for someone to tell me how to find Rick, and who he was. When no one came I left my office feeling like I should leave breadcrumbs to guide me back, but the municipal building wasn't huge. Hanlin wasn't huge.

  There was nobody out in the halls, and the administrative assistant wasn't at her desk in the front where she doubled as receptionist. Fine. I could do this myself. I went up and down halls that branched off the central reception area. Most people had names on their office doors, though I doubted the accuracy of these nameplates, as the person in the office marked Bert Tomlinson had long blond hair and was wearing a pink skirt and high heels.

  I didn't find a listing for a Rick; I found an office suite marked communications. Made sense, getting the word out about the municipality is critical in economic development. I'd be working a lot with the communications department and –

  Rick Barnes. He'd just walked back into the main office with a phone in one hand and a file in the other. His hair was a little longer, curling on his collar, his eyes bright, and everything I remembered – cheekbones, jaw, forearms, pecs – all still beautiful. I made a noise and he stopped short, starting at me like he'd seen a ghost.

  "Hi," I said with stunning stupidity.

  He didn't even manage that. "What are you doing here?"

  That annoyed me. I've left Las Vegas and come to stalk you. "What the hell do you think? I told you I was applying for an economic development job in Hanlin. How many did you think there were?"

  "No," he said clearly, as if it might work some kind of magic. "They hired a Michelle Powers."

  I waved. "That's me."

  "No," he said again, clearly stuck. "Your name is Mya."

  I gave him a curious tight smile that felt wrong. "Also me," I said. "Mya's a nickname."

  "Mya's a nickname? Why didn't you tell me that?" He looked almost angry, just like I was starting to feel. Two can play at feeling stalked.

  "You didn't tell me you were applying for this job?" I demanded. "You barely told me anything about your job, just that you worked in advertising."

  "I did. I still do. That's what the communications position is. It came open two months ago. I applied and I got in about thirty days ago. Why didn't you tell me Mya is a nickname?"

  I sighed. "When should I have done that? While you were being rude or while we were having dinner? Over Scrabble? Or while running around in the snow while trees fell? Maybe afterward in the shower when – "

  "OK, OK," he said hastily. "Listen, I'll be right back." He took off down the hall at something just short of a run and while I'd been contemplating making for a ladies' room in case my stomach came undone, I sank instead into one of the guest chairs by his desk.

  My stomach fluttered like mad. Talk about having butterflies! I had a migrating swarm. My head ached and I felt dizzy. Joy and fury and sadness kept vying for precedence.

  "This sucks," I said aloud.

  Because now that I thought about it, I'd been craving him for four months. Ever since that wild, snow-filled night. Over those months I'd been angry, amused, apathetic, appalled. I'd been mad one minute and longing for him the next and I never admitted the longing, not to me, not to Sunny, not to Jenna, not to my mother, not to anyone. Nothing was going to stand in my way. I'd gotten the job and if I had to wait four months, fine, as long as it was mine. If it meant I'd be working only ninety minutes from Rick's cabin and not that much farther away from where he lived and worked, so be it.

  No one had said anything about throwing me off the deep end right into the damn pool with him. What if there were rules about employees having relationships? Or having had a relationship, however improbably short? I'd gotten hired first but he'd been here longer. Would they let one of us go? Reprimand us for something that happened before I'd even been hired?

  Had he really not known it was me? I'd never told him my last name. It had never come up. I'd never even thought to tell him my first name, really. The communications job had come up while I was in Las Vegas, waiting to start. He hadn't done anything wrong.

  Neither had I. Except for the dreams. The fantasies. But a girl can dream, right? And they'd been harmless – I'd never expected to see or hear from him again.

  So just start over, I thought. Rick was over it. I needed to get over it. If circumstances hadn't been so weird, I probably would already be over it; it'd be nothing but a shock. And his distance? I couldn't forget what Sunny had told me. He'd lost his wife to suicide. I was pretty sure that kind of shock didn't fade. My father had caused the suicide of one of his clients and even that very tenuous bond clung to me. I could understand Rick finding any kind of a relationship challenging.

  He didn't know I knew.

  I needed to get out of here. I'd see him in the meeting, meet everyone, watch his cues to see how we were supposed to proceed together, though of course by then everyone would assume we'd met. And in the meeting he could outline how we were going to work together.

  That works, I told myself. I started up from the chair like it had been electrocuted and crossed the room to the door.

  Which Rick came through. I found myself face to chest with him. Alarm bells went off all over my body. All systems were screaming. Everything felt electric. The hair on my arms stood. I looked up at him.

  He looked down at me. His eyes held a hardness for about five seconds longer and then he said, "Oh, crap," and grabbed me, his arms pulling me tight, one shoulder hitching to slam the door shut. No need to lock it because he pressed me up against it, his mouth on mine and these weren't the tentative playful kisses of our Snow Bound Adventure, these were hot and angry and all the way present, both of us very alive, very angry.

  Very happy to see each other.

  I ran my hands over that chest again. I'd missed it. Wouldn't have admitted that for anything. But I had. I slid my arms around his waist and pulled him hip to hip with me, just as tight against me as I was against him.

  "We can't do this here," he said.

  He said it with his mouth so pressed against mine it should have echoed in my throat.

  "No, of course not," I said, without moving away from him.

  "You have to let go of me," he said and I heard some humor in his voice, that inner Rick I hadn't gotten to
see much of in our touted what, twenty hour acquaintance?

  "You touched first. You stop first." My words were indistinct. I'd started kissing his neck.

  "OK."

  "OK."

  Neither of us moved. Until finally hands came up, stroking faces, playing in hair, fingers tried for buttons on shirts that couldn't be undone, not here not now, hands raced along torsos, voices whispered and laughed and protested and agreed of course. We weren't doing this. Highly improper. He was my boss after all.

  Hold me.

  We leaned against his office door, arms around each other, kissing, unable and unwilling to stop.

  The meeting, when it happened, was an ordinary staff meeting. I met the entire team, took notes on names, and tried to memorize who each person was every time he or she spoke. I introduced myself, gave them my background with economic development in Nevada, and got some impressed looks because economic development isn't easy in the Silver State, not since its un-diversified economy that rarely went into recession was hit by the Great Recession. Having worked successfully in Nevada post-recession gave me street cred.

  Rick was still explaining himself and his platform and plans even two months in. That gave me an introduction to my own department. Other department heads – new business, business expansion, industry consultant, Governor's Office liaison and liaisons with state and county economic development authorities – all introduced themselves.

  Rick and I came through it just fine. No one even blinked at one of us and then at the other.

  My first day involved researching existing businesses and industries, stuff I'd been doing a lot of before getting to Georgia. It involved catching up on ongoing campaigns to bring more business into the Hanlin area without poaching from other municipalities. It involved having lunch with Jared and the director and admin.

  I was bone tired by the time I got out of there and tried to remember where I'd left my car, which way to my apartment, whether there was food or takeout or if I was just going to go to bed hungry. First days are like that. I felt wrung out, in a good way, bone tired and blurry inside and out.

  So of course my phone rang as I got into my car. "Better be good," I said, and answered.

  "We need to talk," Rick said without preamble. "I'll cook you dinner."

  I started to say we'd still need to talk at end of business tomorrow when I might be able to think and stand upright, as well, but he didn't give me time. Instead he gave me directions, and got off the phone.

  "Pompous, arrogant, overwrought jerk," I started, still holding the phone. "I can't possibly and don't even want to – " But I stopped. Because I could. I was already sitting up and fixing my hair, my face, using the rearview in the time honored tradition of women everywhere. I could.

  And I wanted to.

  Rick had rented a small house, cozy but not as small as the cabin had been. There was no reason for me to get there particularly late or much later than he did since we got off work at the same time.

  It had been a good first day at the new job. I'd even done a little tiny bit of the actual economic development job, though a lot of my time had been spent with personnel, doing hiring paperwork, insurance stuff, meeting people over and over again and being grateful every time someone assumed I didn't remember their name from the one-time intro at the staff meeting.

  I was looking forward to the next day. Actually I was looking forward to about a month down the line when the beginning stuff would be out of the way and I could dive into Hanlin's economic development in earnest.

  Finding Rick Barnes not only in my office but as my boss had been a shock. Most of the time when you meet someone you never expect to see again who doesn't even share your career you don't expect to wind up working for them four months later.

  I'd planned to go back to the studio and call Sunny so we could deconstruct the day and the whole Rick thing together. Finding I'd actually been thinking about him pretty much nonstop had been disconcerting. Having dinner with him just meant there'd be more to tell Sunny.

  "Want a tour?" he asked as he opened the door. I had a moment's disconnect seeing the snowy white button down he'd been wearing at work now untucked, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up.

  "Maybe later?" If we went near the bedroom now we'd never get to dinner.

  Rick nodded, stepped back from the door, and closed it behind me. I turned to look at him and we stopped talking. Our eyes met and I stepped into his arms. His mouth came down on mine and I made an inarticulate sound of joy. I reached up, circling his neck with my arms. Rick scooped me into his arms.

  He only carried me as far as the couch, where he sat and cradled me on his lap. Our mouths never parted. Every kiss felt like fire and tasted like cinnamon, every move of our lips flashed straight through my body and left me hot and wanting. Every time he raised a hand to stroke my face or brush gently down my arms, my breasts, I expected him to push me away.

  "Mya," he said softly.

  I closed my eyes, savoring my name on his lips. "Four months," I whispered without meaning to.

  "Too long," he said. He leaned down to kiss me gently. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

  "I tried," I said.

  That made him laugh, his warm breath tickling my collarbone.

  "I did," I said. "Ask Sunny."

  "I already asked Sunny," he said and I pulled back in surprise to stare at him. He nodded. "The way you took off? I know a runner when I see one."

  "What do you mean?" My fingers had minds of their own. They'd wanted to play with those curls since they'd first seen them. "The rest of your hair is so straight."

  He stilled my hands by taking and kissing them. Holding them against his chest, he said, "I mean that you were running away from what we might have had. Sunny backed up what I thought. You're afraid of relationships. It might even relate to the claustrophobia."

  But I was staring at him now, reclaiming my hands and standing. "I ran away because when I had a nightmare in the middle of the night you thought that was the perfect time to accuse me of being clingy and pointing out our lack of the very relationship you're accusing me of being afraid of."

  He made a pained face. "What?"

  "You're wrong," I simplified. My arms were crossed over my chest. My whole body thrummed with tension. I was ready to run at any minute, get the hell out before things became difficult.

  … he might have a point.

  Before I could say anything, his gaze softened. "I asked Sunny about you," he said. He climbed to his feet and stood facing me. "She told me about your father, about how what he did changed your life and how you approach other people."

  Seriously, Sunny should be having this relationship. She was the one doing all the communicating.

  I gave him a rueful smile. "She told me about you, too. Rick, I'm sorry. I can't imagine. And when I was telling you about my father's client – "

  He held up a hand. His eyes were closed. "You didn't know," he said. "How could you? And I wish I could say hey, it was two years ago, I'm handling it, but I'm not. Obviously. It still hurts, and I'm still afraid to get close to anyone. The more I like someone the harder I push them away."

  Sunny had said something about that, too, that if Rick and I were still in school he'd be pulling my hair to let me know he liked me. But that was too flippant to say. The silence stretched between us briefly, and then I said, "We could start over."

  "Things are more complicated now," he said.

  "They don't have to be." We were moving toward each other, inexorably.

  "We work together." His hands cupped my face.

  "We're professionals. We can handle it." I reached up to trace his upper lip with one finger. Rick shuddered.

  "We both have issues with relationships." He'd begun to kiss my neck. It was hard to carry on a conversation like that.

  "But we're talking about them now. I'll try not to run if you try not to push. Because those two could work together very well."

  "They already h
ave," he said into my hair.

  A few minutes passed with no conversation. Then, "We both have demons," Rick said.

  "So we drag them into sunlight and stake them through the heart,” I said.

  "That's vampires," Rick argued.

  "Just kiss me," I said.

  * * *

  The bedroom was bigger than the one in the cabin. The bed was the same bed, all soft blankets, acres of it. Rick carried me there, holding me like he was never going to let me go and instead of feeling claustrophobic, I nestled into his arms. He lowered me gently onto the bed and started to straighten, maybe meaning to undress. I didn't wait to find out. I pulled him down on top of me, his arms going round me as if there were nowhere else for them to go. We were face to face, looking into each other's eyes, and it was then we started to undress each other, slowly, reverently. We pulled at buttons, tugged at sleeves, forced pants down over hips. We kissed and licked and sucked and bit every bit of flesh we uncovered.

  Until we lay naked together, stretched along each other's length, mouths hot, hands pushing closer to caress. To hold.

  In holding, to free.

  I'd been more caged the last four months during which I hadn't had Rick than I was now.

  I'd never felt less claustrophobic than being held.

  Summer was nicer than the snow-filled early March night had been. We stretched out together, full length, and everything was familiar and new at the same time. His hands ran down my sides, making me shiver and purr and writhe against him. My hands stroked arms and chest and shoulders, marveling at his contours, at how hot his flesh was.

  Mouths followed hands, and we were moving faster, finding what the other liked, learning. The first time back in the cabin had been all about speed, of getting through it before we came to our senses, I think, of moving on before internal censors caught up. It had been passionate and fiery and hot.

  And this time was passionate, fiery, hot, and slower, our hands lingering, our mouths following. I kissed and licked down his belly. He cradled my hips and drew me close. I nibbled. He bit. Neither of us liked it. We laughed. We tangled our hands in fistfuls of hair, we pulled heads back and licked throats and went back to kissing, to stroking, to causing those electric sensations that filled me with awe. My toes curled, fingers spread, pulse quickened.