by Jean Oram
Was he really a good guy? He’d been so kind last night. A thoughtful, caring gentleman who had allowed her a semblance of dignity while taking charge in a way that didn’t leave her bristling. He hadn’t made her feel weak or powerless—at least not intentionally. Anything that made her feel less strong was because she had been fighting imaginary battles with a very decent man.
His words echoed in her head: It doesn’t make you any less of a powerful woman to accept help when you need it. It’s a sign of strength.
Maybe it wasn’t so much about it being a sign of strength as accepting help from the right person. A person whose hand up would give her strength, not diminish it.
“Merry Christmas,” she said softly.
“What time is it?”
“Time to go.” She pulled on her dried jeans, keeping the blanket hunched over her shoulders for privacy. Next, she grabbed her sweater from where it was laid out on a chair. She dropped the blanket, back turned, not caring what he saw, since he’d already seen enough. She pulled her hair out of the sweater and let it hang down her back, adding another layer of warmth.
Fully dressed, Simone brushed aside the curtains on the French doors and peeked out. It was calm and still. A beautiful white Christmas, and it wouldn’t be long until the helicopters came.
She felt the warmth of JC standing behind her. She resisted the urge to cave against him, to suck in his strength and heat. Turning, she found him much too close. She had to get home and create a baby. She had plans, plans that didn’t involve him. He was wonderful, but he wasn’t The One.
She raised her hands to create a barrier, her heart skipping and racing unsteadily as her fingertips grazed the smooth skin of his pectorals. He had a six-pack and a teasing line of muscle that slipped under the waist of his low-slung jeans. His body represented heady doses of power and sexy masculinity, and she needed to tell her hormones to stand down.
JC ran a thumb over the edge of her jaw, sending shivers straight to her core. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Good. Fine.”
She pulled away, feeling as though she’d bared too much to him last night. Too much skin, too much longing. Too much vulnerability. Too much everything. She needed space to think. He was going to ask her to feel things about him, before turning around and deciding, too late, that she really wasn’t his type, after all.
“I guess you’re off the hook,” she said, feeling a foreign pang of disappointment. She went to duck past him, but he reached out and lightly grabbed her by the waist, holding her, making her desperate for his touch.
“I’ll be down on the ice digging out my machine. But I won’t leave Nymph Island until I know you’re safely on your way and this damsel in distress is no longer in need of my rescue services.”
Simone straightened as if someone had goosed her. Damsel in distress.
She’d allowed his help and now he was throwing it in her face. She had known it was coming; why had she let her guard down? She braced herself, waiting for the next blow. Waiting for him to prove without a doubt that her first gut reaction in regards to who he really was had been correct.
“You’re still having that baby?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“You should wait.”
“Why?” she asked, chin raised. If he was suggesting she wait and have a baby with him, he’d lost his mind. They’d spent most of the past twelve hours butting heads.
“Because. You might…regret it.”
“You think I don’t know my own mind?” Her head cocked dangerously to the side.
“I think you do,” he said carefully.
“You don’t like single moms? You have a problem with them?”
“I think we’ve proved I’m a lot more open-minded and accepting than you are, Simone Pascal.” His voice was soft, his face close to hers, fencing her in, not allowing her to lash out and escape.
“Yeah? Then how come you can’t let me be? Why are you always in my thoughts? Why are you always making me doubt my path? Why are you always there to see me fail? I’m strong.”
“I know,” he said softly.
“I’m strong! I’m independent. I don’t die in house fires. I can take care of myself, but I can accept help, too. I’m not who you think I am. I’m more than that.”
JC yanked her close, kissing her so deeply that she had to cling to him to keep from falling to the floor. Their anger was like fireworks, electrifying and exploding around them. She curled into him, shaping herself to his build, wrapping her arms around his neck, hating the way she absolutely loved kissing him, hating the way she wanted all of him. Every bit, from his attention and admiration to his heart.
No. Not JC. She couldn’t fall for a man like him.
“I am not a damsel in distress,” she said, breaking away.
“Don’t have a baby.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” If they got together, this would be how it went—him in the driver’s seat. JC determining the who-what-where-when-why-and-how of her future, even when it pertained to her own body.
“It’s a mistake. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I think I do!”
“He’s a stranger.”
“That’s the point. A stranger can’t—” She cut herself short, not adding hurt me, be disappointed in me, expect things I can’t deliver.
“What if he wants the rights to his child?”
“He’s signed a consent.”
“Laws change. He’s a stranger and could carry—”
“He’s been screened. Psychologically. Diseases. The works. That’s a lot more than I get dating some guy I pick up in a musty old cottage.” She dared herself to look down her nose at him, dismissing him even though it hurt every cell in her body to do so.
Men like JC couldn’t give her what she needed. She knew that. She’d learned that lesson already and wasn’t going to test the theory once again by breaking her own rules. Not for him. Not for anyone. She couldn’t trust him and she couldn’t trust herself around him. If she wanted to carry her own baby she needed to get JC out of her life—pronto.
“What if your child has a hundred siblings from this guy? Do you know what kind of mess you’re inviting into your life? There are other ways. You’re an amazing woman, and I know how much your independence means to you, but sometimes you have to consider the things you may have overlooked. You have to contemplate the people you never thought of.”
He could not be asking her to consider him. He just couldn’t.
Don’t even go there, she warned herself silently. Stay angry. Don’t let him see you cry. Don’t let him open the cracks. Don’t even think about how serious he might appear at the moment—he’s just bothered that the chase is over and he didn’t win.
“Yeah, well, nobody has stepped up.” She flung herself away from him as other occupants of the cottage awakened due to their loud exchange. “And quit bossing me around. Just because you got to play hero…” She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
“Simone—”
“No.” She turned away, then whirled back to face him. “I don’t want you and I don’t need you. So just step out of my life.”
“Simone—”
“I thought you were different. I was obviously kidding myself because you kiss like you mean it. Like you’re someone I could get close to. A man I could trust.”
“I am someone you can trust. Have I ever hurt you?”
“I need someone who will support me without telling me what to do with my life.”
“I’m not looking to run your life, just stride along beside you. Be your copilot.”
“I don’t need a copilot! Just because you make me want you—I mean want you to warm me up with your hot body—” She let out a frustrated sound. “You know what I mean.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. What was it about this man? “I don’t choose you.” Her voice was wobbly, tears threatening to fall. She needed to run. And there was nowhere to go. No e
scape.
She pulled herself together, reassembling her protective walls, chin raised once again.
“You might as well leave now, as I won’t be requiring your services,” she said coolly, stopping herself from adding ever. “Have a nice Christmas.”
She turned her back and began straightening the living room, ignoring the Summers who were peeking out of their bedrooms with concern. Simone, for the sake of the future she had planned for herself, hoped she never saw JC again.
That woman was colder than last night’s blizzard. How had he allowed himself to believe she wasn’t going to turn against him, and that her softening last night had been her letting him into her ice palace to help melt the walls that surrounded her heart?
He was stupider than a sack of hammers.
Josh stomped over the crusted drifts of snow between the cottage and his snowmobile down at the lake. She couldn’t even take a joke, she was wound so tight. He’d been teasing, trying to compliment her and let her know that he believed she was strong—stronger than he’d thought—for allowing him to take charge last night. He’d known how difficult it must have been for her to set her pride aside, and he’d been stupid to think it had something to do with him.
He’d been a fool to believe that the moments they’d shared under the blanket had changed things. He’d felt something when he’d held her tight against his bare chest. A connection. And she’d felt it, too, but what did she do with it? Turned around and shoved it in his face.
He’d actually begun to think they might have something real, something he could take with him into his new life adventures. Someone who would have his back and actually understand him and all his messed up and confused ways. Someone who could see through all that and love him just the same.
What a fool. The worst of it was he’d known better, but had still plowed ahead, wanting to be wrong about his assumptions.
She was still the same old Simone his wiser, younger self had avoided in the high school hallways. She didn’t do vulnerable and didn’t like men who had a soft side or exposed her own. She was cool, calculating, and always on top.
She wouldn’t change—not even for him.
He reached the lake and cursed. There were a multitude of drifts by the boathouse, but no snowmobile in sight. Which meant one of the mounds was his machine. He broke a branch off a nearby tree and used it as a probe, poking snowdrifts until he came across something unyielding. He began digging, his anger fueling him to make short work of the job.
As he brushed snow away from the controls, sounds of the Summer family came closer. He glanced up to see a group of them chatting and laughing, Simone trailing behind, her mittened hands shoved deep into her coat. She looked cold and miserable.
Good.
He turned back to his machine. All he had to do was start it, let it warm up, and he would be out of her life forever.
Not quite soon enough, but it would have to do.
He sat on the frozen seat and turned the key. The machine groaned and shuddered, indicating something was definitely wrong. He flipped open the hood to find that the wind had completely packed the engine with snow, likely part of its starting issue. He sighed.
Canada.
He sighed again.
Winter.
Why didn’t he move south?
He began clearing snow from the engine compartment. The last thing he wanted was to be rescued and have to share a seat on a helicopter with Simone.
The men started clearing a spot on the ice for the helicopter to land, their cheery laughter snaking its way to Josh like a slap across the face. They hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for an ice queen—and that’s what he’d done last night…fallen.
He knew better than to do that.
“Won’t start?” It was Evander, standing over the machine, looking impossibly large. Josh nodded, feeling defeated. Evander tried a few things, but the engine still didn’t catch. “Too cold, maybe?”
“Yeah. I think so.” His mother would be disappointed he wouldn’t be able to take her for their annual Christmas Day snowmobile ride, but she’d survive. The frigid overnight temperatures likely had left the oil as thick as fudge, which meant his snowmobile wasn’t going to start without a significant heat-infused intervention. One he couldn’t provide out here.
“There’s an extra seat in the helicopter. We’ll come get this later.” Evander placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder, directing him farther onto the ice. The sound of helicopters grew in the distance as they made their way to the gathered group. Josh hoped the choppers landed quickly, as he was in no mood to chat.
Maya came hurrying through the thigh-deep snow from the woods as though afraid she’d be left behind. “I just threw up!” she announced.
“I told you we should have packed the pasta salads in more snow. Now she’s got food poisoning,” Melanie said, turning to Hailey. She located Tigger. “How are you feeling, little monkey? Are you okay?”
Hailey was tapping the back of her hand against Melanie’s arm, studying her in a way that made Josh turn to study her as well. She didn’t look pale. In fact, she was glowing, beaming at her sisters.
Uh-oh.
Josh quickly checked Simone, who, judging by her expression, had yet to clue in as to why Maya had been ill.
Hailey squealed, arms extended as she trundled through the snow to hug her sister. “This is so exciting! We’re going to have cousins the same age!” She hugged her sister even tighter. “They’ll be in the same class at school. Same with Daphne’s baby!”
“Wait, what?” Melanie asked, as Daphne got in on the hug, as well. “You’re pregnant?”
Connor paled and Josh reached out to steady him. “Congratulations, man.”
Connor gave a jerky nod and blinked twice before a ghost of a smile stretched across his face.
Simone quietly joined the celebrating sisters. She offered congratulations, but Josh could tell she was struggling with the news. He wanted to provide comfort, to let her know that it was okay to feel everything that had to be storming through her—even though it would mean she’d reject him again. A woman like Simone not only deserved a good man in her life, she deserved support, love, and acceptance.
Which was probably why she was choosing to have a baby on her own. Unconditional, uncomplicated, reliable love.
He shook his head, the realization seeming so obvious. But before he could figure out what to say to Simone, Evander called to the men, “Are we all clear?”
They’d knocked down the few drifts on a patch of ice the wind had blown fairly clear, to make a semi-decent landing pad.
The guys who had gathered around to offer the newlyweds their congratulations nodded.
“We should be good,” Finian said.
Evander waved in the first helicopter, like the former navy commander he was. Then he turned away from the incoming machine, arms out, shepherding the women closer to the boathouse, encouraging them to face away from the soon-to-be-driving snow as the rotors kicked up the grains and whipped them their way. “Get low.”
One of the choppers landed, while the other hovered nearby, waiting its turn on the impromptu landing pad.
Josh reached down to shelter Tigger, then picked her up, bundling her across the snow to the waiting rescue party, protecting her the best he could from the kicked-up snow. He placed her inside as Evander helped usher the women in.
Josh caught Simone’s eye. She looked sad, tired, and rejected, which was odd. He was the one who’d been rejected. Soundly.
He shook his head, knowing he had to stop thinking about her, stop wasting his time on a done deal. She would never allow him to help in the ways she needed the most.
Evander closed the doors and gave them a pat, providing the pilot a thumbs-up through the glass. Josh caught one last glimpse of Simone fidgeting with her mitts, her dark eyes cast down. He reached for the door, but Evander pulled him away, the machine already lifting off.
It was time to move on. Without her.
/> 10
Simone had been bustling around her mother’s kitchen all afternoon and their Christmas dinner was finally ready. Her mom hadn’t tossed her cookies since the night before, but she was still pale, clearly worn-out from her battle with the bug, and dozed on the couch with a blanket tucked under her chin.
Simone cupped the dish of mashed potatoes, loving the way the heat seared her palms and radiated up her wrists. Since being stuck under the spruce tree over twelve hours ago she had been craving heat. Lots of it. She was wearing layers of sweaters and had spent extra time checking the turkey just so she could allow the oven’s heat to wash over her. She still couldn’t get warm, but she knew it wasn’t a physical affliction as much as missing JC’s steady presence. Not just his body’s warmth, but the fire in his eyes when he battled with her and the way he didn’t allow her to walk over him. Quite plainly, and as annoying as it was, she missed the way she heated up in his presence.
But she didn’t need him and he’d only mess with her plans, while breaking her heart.
She poked the steamed carrots with a fork, testing if they were done, her mind drifting to the firmness of JC’s chest. The way his hand had enveloped hers when she’d been tugging on his chest hair, his body snugged up just right beneath her. She flung the fork onto the counter.
Josh had managed to get under her skin—and good. She’d walked in the door right on time to take her hormone shot, but instead of injecting it, she had gently laid the needle back in its case, unused.
She still didn’t know why, only that it felt like a betrayal to carry a baby that belonged to another man.
Which was messed up.
No, it was beyond messed up.
It was crazy. Plain and simple. A baby was her plan. Possibly her last chance. She had the father chosen. The appointment for insemination was booked. She’d rearranged her entire life around this appointment and now she couldn’t go through with it because of a stupid kiss in a stupid enchanted cottage.
She’d wanted to be swept away by someone on Nymph Island for so long that she was tricking herself into believing that what she’d felt with JC had been real.
