Winter's Wonder: Pine Point, Book 2

by Allie Boniface

  “Good,” he finally said. “I’ll pick you up at quarter to seven.”

  “Okay.” She finished her soda and the last few fries on her plate. “What else did you want to ask me?”

  His mouth dipped a little and then closed. “Nothing. Not important.” But his eyes betrayed the words, and Becca spent the rest of the night wondering what Zane hadn’t said.

  What else had he wanted to ask her? Promise me you won’t leave in the middle of dinner. Promise me you’ll stay until the next morning. After their one amazing night together, all he’d fantasized about was when it could happen again. A couple of days ago, he’d thought he might get lucky, until an emergency phone call from the vet tech had Becca rushing out and leaving him to make small talk with her sister. He wanted to tell her they were just animals. They’d be fine.

  But he couldn’t. Besides, it was part of what he liked about Becca, her devotion to anything with fur and four legs. She had a heart bigger than anyone he’d ever met, and he had no right to be jealous. He squashed the thought that maybe it was more than jealousy. That maybe her leaving jolted him back to the days of his father leaving with Goldie in tow. Don’t get attached, he tried to tell himself. But it didn’t seem to work.

  He pulled up to the Glen and relieved Sue at ten minutes to four. “Anything I need to know?”

  “Nope.” She hauled herself out of the captain’s chair and hefted a tote bag of magazines onto her shoulder. She squinted at the sky. “Snow’s comin’. Maintenance said they’d be on call if we need ’em to plow.”

  “Good.” As if on command, a flake danced through the air. Then two. Zane couldn’t help but grin. “’Bout time,” he said, but Sue was long gone. He spent the next eight hours watching the ground turn white and wondering what to buy Becca for Christmas.

  By the time midnight rolled around, the snow had tapered off. So much for the three-plus inches the weatherman had predicted. Zane did a last check of the cameras, then pulled his woolen hat low over his forehead and headed for his truck. Out of habit, he rounded the corner by the maintenance shed. Hadn’t seen the stray in a while, but the food always disappeared. Still, he was beginning to wonder if another rogue animal was helping itself to the dish instead.

  “Maybe it’s found a better place to hang out,” he muttered. Hell, maybe it had even found itself a home. He glanced at the dish and the blankets in the corner. This time, a pair of yellow eyes looked back at him. Curled into a ball, the dog lifted its head but didn’t move. Nor did it growl or put its ears back, the way it often did.

  “Well, hey there.” He stopped a few feet away. “Guess you didn’t find yourself a penthouse suite somewhere else, huh?”

  The dog stared at Zane for another few seconds. Then, with a faint thump, it bumped its tail against the ground. A chill moved over Zane, and he zipped his jacket up to his chin. Goldie used to wag her tail like that. Slowly at first, then working up to a steady drumbeat until her entire body wriggled with the effort. Then she’d launch herself into Zane’s young arms and lick his face until it tickled.

  He turned on his heel and walked away. Stop thinking about dogs. He rubbed his arms to thaw them. Damn, but less than five minutes outside in this weather was enough to freeze them solid. He pulled himself into the cab of his truck and turned the heat to high. A mile to his place, a shower, and then a long, deep sleep if he was lucky. He turned onto Red Barn Road and gunned it, forgetting about the slick inch of snow that had fallen.

  “Shit.” He hit a slippery spot, fishtailed and nearly went off the road. Slow down, idiot. Too much on his mind. Too many weird emotions playing in his heart. He took his foot off the accelerator and straightened the truck just in time for a deer to skitter from the woods. He mashed the brake pedal to the floor, jerked the wheel, missed hitting the deer by about a foot and crashed his right front tire into what felt like the world’s biggest pothole just short of the turn onto his road.

  “What the—” A string of curse words left his lips. As soon as he pulled to the shoulder, the truck clunked to a stop, and all the air whooshed out. Definitely a flat. Probably also a bent rim, if not damage to the axle too. Damn it to hell. Zane pounded the steering wheel in frustration. One whole paycheck gone, not to mention the use of his truck for at least a day. And the thermometer on his dashboard read minus two degrees.

  “Who was wishing for a damn white Christmas?” he said as he locked the truck and left it where it was. He pulled on a pair of gloves and bent his head into the wind for the quarter-mile walk home. What had started out as a pretty fine day, asking Becca to the Christmas party and watching her turn three shades of pink before saying yes in the cutest way possible, had turned to shit twelve hours later.

  Zane shivered. The wind went straight through his jeans and leather jacket. Only an idiot didn’t buy a ski jacket upon moving back north. First thing tomorrow, he’d head over to the Feed ’n Seed and buy the warmest hunting parka they had. He cupped his hands to his mouth and blew. He hadn’t even left a light on in his trailer. Clouds covered the moon and the stars, so he almost didn’t see what waited for him on his porch.

  He stopped on the front step. “What the hell?” He grabbed the flashlight he kept in the corner and focused it on the center of his door. “How did that…” Only when he swept the beam to his feet did he see the prints of someone who’d been there before.

  Thought you could use a little Christmas cheer, read the note attached to the wreath with a perky red bow in its center. Can’t wait for the party. Becca.

  Chapter Sixteen

  To her surprise and delight, most of Saturday passed uneventfully for Becca. Two potential adopters came in to fill out applications, and a Boy Scout troop from Silver Valley spent the morning walking dogs. They brought a reporter from the local paper, who spent a few minutes looking nervously around Becca’s office as she asked questions.

  “And how long have you been here?”

  “As manager? A little less than a month. I’ve managed the books for a couple of years though, and I’ve been a volunteer for as long as I can remember.”

  The middle-aged woman’s eyes widened behind wire-framed glasses. “Goodness. I don’t know how you do it.” One of the office cats nosed its way along her calf. She looked down as if she wasn’t sure whether to pet it or run away.

  Becca lifted her palms. Papers littered her desk. A shepherd mix, new to the shelter as of this week, slept at her feet. The space heater whirred, cats meowed from the other room and her head and arms ached. “You just do.”

  The woman looked up as she added a decisive period to whatever she was writing. “You know that story The Little Prince? About the boy prince that meets a fox?”

  Becca frowned. “I think maybe I read it. A long time ago.”

  “I never forgot that one line, something about always being responsible for the things you tame.” She looked around again and tapped the end of her pencil on her chin. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to see if I can come back after New Year’s and do a feature story on this place. Looks like you operate on a shoestring budget—no offense,” she added.

  “None taken. It’s true.”

  “But from what I’ve seen, these animals look happy and well cared for.” She tucked away her things. “I didn’t even know you were here, and I’ve lived in Pine Point my whole life. Maybe if we do a story on you, you’ll get some donations. Volunteers. Whatever you need.”

  We need everything, Becca almost said. Instead, she just smiled. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”

  She hummed her way through the rest of the day, half her thoughts on the shelter and the rest on the outfit she’d bought to wear to the Christmas party. It wasn’t red, and it wasn’t slit all the way up or down anywhere, but she still hoped it would drive Zane crazy. This time I’m not leaving, no matter who calls me. They hadn’t had a single moment alone in his place or hers to do more than k
iss or run their hands feverishly along each other’s bodies, and she was damn near bursting at the seams.

  Then Janet walked into her office at ten minutes to three, face somber as stone.

  Becca sat on the fraying couch, a tubby orange cat in her lap. “Oh, no. What is it?”

  Janet clutched her cell phone in one hand and chewed the inside of her cheek. “It’s not good.”

  For a moment, Becca wanted to press both hands to her ears. I don’t want to hear. Whatever you have to say, just keep it until tomorrow. Instead, she transferred the sleepy cat to the couch and brushed her palms on her jeans. “Tell me.”

  “You know Helen Kramer.”

  “Of course.” She’d been out to the woman’s house a couple of times last year.

  “She passed away last night.”

  “Oh, shit. That’s terrible. How? She wasn’t that old.”

  “I just got off the phone with her son. They’re not sure, exactly. He had the neighbors go over there this morning when he couldn’t reach her. They found her in bed. They think maybe a stroke or a heart attack.”

  Becca pressed her lips together. “And the cats?”

  Janet continued to chew her cheek. “They’re all still there, from what the neighbor says.”

  “Does anyone know for sure?”

  “How many did she have?”

  “Twenty-one. Always twenty-one, remember? It was the number of years she’d been married to her husband before he passed.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Kooky and solitary, Helen Kramer had adopted cats from Pine Point Paws a few times over the years, replenishing her brood as they died. Becca and Chrissy and the managers before them had long since given up trying to convince her to stop. Instead, they’d scheduled home visits every few months to check on them and make sure Helen was managing all right.

  “Where the hell are we going to put twenty-one cats?” Janet asked.

  “Did her son say he wouldn’t take them?”

  “He didn’t sound happy with the situation,” Janet added.

  “Well, his mother just died. I can’t blame him.”

  “No, I mean…he didn’t sound like he knew she had that many cats.”

  Becca stood. “I thought everyone in town knew.”

  “He doesn’t live here. I think he’s down outside of Albany. He said he’s coming up later today to take care of things.”

  “Meaning we should probably get those animals out of there as soon as possible.”

  Janet nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Okay.” Becca looked around. “Well, hopefully they can stay in the house for now. Call him back and tell him we’ll have someone go over and take care of food and water and litter boxes, at least until after Christmas.” Lord knew, she didn’t want to move that many cats from the only place they’d called home. Animals were funny when it came to change, especially felines. Sometimes they did all right. More often, they retreated, grew despondent and stopped eating. She knuckled her fingers against her forehead. “And maybe tomorrow we can start setting up cages in the back bathroom so we can bring them in on the twenty-sixth.” She hadn’t planned on working full days either the day before or after the holiday, but it didn’t look like she had much choice.

  “Okay. I know Julito’s visiting his parents today. I’ll see if Kevin’s around.”

  “I’m going to a party tonight,” Becca said with a glance outside. Snow had started falling again, thick white flakes that coated every surface in minutes. “Over in Silver Valley. I’ll have my phone, but I hope you and the guys can handle things. I’ll come in first thing tomorrow.”

  “You going with Zane?”

  “Yes.”

  Janet grinned. “Good for you. That guy’s a stud with a capital S. We’ll be fine. I’ll talk to Helen’s son and get things squared away. You go have fun. Don’t think twice about this place.”

  “Thanks.” And for a few hours, Becca foolishly thought that might actually be possible.

  At precisely quarter to seven, Zane pulled open his front door. “Sorry you had to—” pick me up here instead, he meant to say, but the words died in his throat when he saw Becca.

  “Damn, doll,” was all he managed before he swept her inside and laid a kiss on that mouth he’d been thinking about all afternoon. He skimmed his hands down her curves before settling them on her hips. “What the hell do you have on?” he said when he finally stopped kissing her long enough to take a closer look.

  She took a step back and shrugged off her long red coat. Underneath, she wore a pair of black leather pants and a tight-fitting shirt with a zipper up the front. The zipper ended just above her breasts, where creamy pink skin took over. He reached out and touched her necklace. “Very nice.”

  She cocked a brow. “Not a dress.”

  “Do I look like I care?” He tugged at the zipper. “May I?”

  She closed her hand over his. “And unwrap the package before Christmas? That would make you a very naughty boy.” She let his hand go and ran her fingers over his cheek. “Santa doesn’t like naughty boys.”

  He let go of her zipper but took his time running both hands down her sides, settling them on her ass this time. “I stopped believing in Santa in the third grade.” He nuzzled her neck. “I think the better question is what does Becca Ericksen like?”

  “Oh, I think you know.” She laughed under his touch, and he tightened his grip. Never want to let you go. She tasted like soap and fresh air, and he ran his tongue along her neck, nibbling in a few places until he felt her tremble in his arms.

  “Zane.”

  He lifted his head. “What is it?”

  But she only shook her head and fastened those bright blue eyes on his. “You make me all unsteady.”

  He smiled. “You show up here in an outfit like this, and unsteady is only the first of many things I’m going to make you feel.” Before she could say another word, he lifted her into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Jesus Christ. He hadn’t even noticed the sleek leather boots that rose to her knees. Where had Becca the shelter manager gone? This woman in his arms oozed sensuality head to toe. If he had anything to say about it, those boots would end up on his bedroom floor later on, the pants and zippered top alongside them.

  She clutched his neck and ran her thumbs along his skin and through his hair, turning him hard as stone. It took only a handful of steps before they reached the kitchen and he could set her on the counter, legs spread. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her again. His tongue teased and then retreated, while he finally got ahold of that damn zipper and eased it down.

  No bra underneath. Zane pressed closer to settle himself inside Becca’s hips, needing her to feel how incredibly hard she’d made him. She murmured against his ear. Slowly, he eased his thumbs inside and ran them over her nipples. So hard. So tight. He forced himself to take his time, building tension, letting her rock against him first, loving the sounds she made and the way her breath sped up. Her hands went to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and he loved the gentle pain it created. He lowered his mouth to one breast, taking his time to add his tongue to his hands. God, she tasted good. He nibbled and slid one hand to the vee between her legs. He stroked softly, wanting to make her come, wanting to feel her collapse against him and know he’d brought her there, fully clothed and with nothing more than his mouth and fingers.

  It took less than a minute.

  “Oh. God. I’m—” The words went away, and for a moment, it was simply her moving against him. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation.

  “My God,” she said a moment later.

  He opened his eyes.

  “You’re—” she shook her head, “—incredible.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “Feel good?”

  “I feel amazing.”


  He tugged the zipper down a little farther. “Want to skip the party?”

  She put her cheek to his. “I do.” Her breath whispered across his skin. “But I spent a lot of time getting all sexied up so I could go out with you and show the world I own more than sweatshirts and jeans.” She sat back and ran one forefinger over his bottom lip. “How about an hour or two? I never go anywhere. A Christmas party in Silver Valley is like the Oscars or a gala ball or something.”

  He smiled. She could have suggested they drive five hours to New York City and climb to the top of the Empire State Building, and he probably wouldn’t have argued. She’s getting under your skin, a voice inside him warned. She’s taming you. He knew that voice. It showed up whenever he let his guard down, which hadn’t happened in a while.

  But tonight, he didn’t care. He had a damn firecracker practically sitting in his lap, hair mussed and cheeks flushed, and he’d done that. He’d brought her over the edge. In any other world, Becca Ericksen would have been out of his league. Smart and focused, she lived her life devoted to a cause that would never give back half of what she gave to it. People like Becca changed the world, saved it and made it better, while people like Zane messed it up with mistakes.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said suddenly.

  She leaned back, palms on the counter. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

  Reluctantly, he eased her zipper back up and moved her hair behind her shoulders. One last chaste kiss on her cheek, nothing more, or he’d never be able to leave this trailer. As it was, he was counting the hours until they retuned. He glanced down at the bulge in his pants that was going to take the entire ride over the mountain to settle down again. Then he touched the space above his heart. To his surprise, he wasn’t sure which she had a stronger effect on.

  “It’s a good thing, doll. A very good thing.”

  Chapter Seventeen