by Olivia Arran
But he didn’t hesitate, engulfing my hand in his, completely enclosing it and squeezing gently.
I stared down at where we were joined. Did the man have paws for hands? “You have very big…” I cut myself off, but it was too late. I’d done my usual trick—blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “…Hands,” I forced out.
After a startled cough, maybe more of a grunt, the man smiled. “Max.” He didn’t let go of my hand.
I should pull my hand away; he’d let go then.
But I didn’t.
I should. I stared down at where my hand had been captured, willing my body to obey.
Instead I swayed closer, traitorous feminine hormones deciding they liked this man. Wanted a taste of this delicious morsel of a hunk. What the hell, Jeanie?
Just when I was at the point of declaring all out war with myself, he let go.
And I nearly fell over.
Large hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. “Easy there. You must have stood up a little too quick.” His voice was a low rumble, meant for our ears only.
I risked a glance at his face, certain I’d find amusement masking a good dose of derision.
There was none, only concern. And enough attention to have my cheeks blazing again and eyes swerving away. Warmth seeped through my light, cotton shirt, soaking from his hands into my bones. I focused on his list, not on the fact that every breath I managed to suck in was filled with a crisp, spicy smell that had to be him. “You’ll find everything else you need on aisle two and four,” I murmured. God, he smelled good. Like a man should. Not the bathed-in-aftershave, eye-watering experience that accompanied most men of a reasonable dating age.
And there I went, considering this guy as dating material. Which he wasn’t. At least, not for me, anyway.
“You’re a handy woman to know.”
I caught his wink, noting the way his eyes crinkled around the corners, hinting at a life well lived. “It’s nothing.” Great, a mumble.
“Thank you, anyway.” His hands left my shoulders, and I was kidding myself if I tried to believe that my stomach wasn’t sinking into my boots.
“Sure thing.” Clutching my bag of screws, I turned away, already schooling myself on how not to act like an idiot if we should ever bump into each other again.
“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could grab something decent to eat around here, would you, Jeanie?”
His words were a sweet caress, a teasing hint that he wasn’t ready to let me go. But, why? Surely he must know that he’d have the pick of the women in town… Taking my time to arrange my face into one of nonchalance, I turned back around.
He was slumped against the shelving, his arms crossed over his chest, biceps doing their whole bunching and straining routine again.
I licked my lips, my mouth dry. Words failed me as his eyes traveled over me with a frank appreciation that left nothing unclear, and everything confusing. Geez! No messing around for this guy! He looked about ready to eat me! Which reminded me… “Ralph’s, of course.” I folded my arms across my chest, wishing, not for the first time in my adult life, that I had something in the cleavage department I could plump up.
He tilted his head in a nod, the corner of his mouth quirking up as I stiffened under his frank stare. “Of course.” Then his eyes flicked down zeroing in on my left hand, nearly quick enough for me to miss it, but not quite. His smile faded a little. Became a little less warm, not as inviting.
Now, this was the real test of character. What kind of guy was he? Would he still ask me out?
“See you around, Jeanie.” He sauntered off toward the till, and I couldn’t help but appreciate his firm behind stretching the denim in all the right places. Clock how his work boots were well scuffed and broken in. How the scruff on his chin and his shorn brown hair had brought out the blue in his eyes. Memorize his laugh lines and wonder what tales they could tell, while I itched to smooth the worry lines carved deep into his brow. I had admired his large hands, imagining what he could do with his strong, blunt fingers.
Why had I noticed his fingers?
Because I’d been checking for a ring too.
Only his wouldn’t have been false like mine.
No ring.
Didn’t make a difference.
That’s what I was telling myself anyway. Though, if I’d have been a different kind of woman, I might have been convinced to take him for a spin. It had been a long dry stretch and a woman had needs. Needs that a man with a body like that should be able to scratch. Easily. But I wasn’t that kind of woman. Never had been.
Bet he’s rubbish in the sack. Minuscule dick. Ego the size of the moon.
As though he’d heard my inner musings, he turned and touched a finger to his brow in a silent salute. His smile widened, flashing white teeth and curling into a grin that could only be described as knowing.
Yup. No way that guy was anything less than an animal between the sheets.
It was just a shame he wasn’t going to be warming mine any time soon.
Chapter Three
Max
Giving the wrench one last twist, I scooted back out from underneath the sink, rolling back up to my feet and flicking on the tap. Water chugged out, splashing into the sink and draining with a contented gurgle. Another job completed. Giving the taps a wipe with a rag that was starting to look like it had seen better days, I mooched over to the coffee maker and poured myself a mug of the good stuff. Things were starting to look up. My bear was being uncharacteristically quiet, his deafening roar having dialed down to a low rumble for the first time in weeks. I wasn’t about to question his abrupt turnaround. His silence was giving me space to think for once. To make plans.
To think about Jeanie.
I rubbed a hand over my face and leaned back against the counter. Nope. Don’t go there. But it was as if I’d lost the off switch, her face dancing in my mind and shoving out all sane thought. And it wasn’t as if there was a law against liking someone. Even if they were married. It wasn’t like I was actually going to do something about it.
So … she was nice. Yep. That’s it. She was a nice woman. Friendly. I tapped my chin, taking a sip of the piping hot coffee and mulling it over. More like dancing around it, if I were being brutally honest. There was something about her that called to me, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. Her presence had triggered a calm in me that I hadn’t felt in … fuck, it had been a long time. My bear had stopped grumping and whining, my head had quit hurting, and my heart? It had felt … light. Almost like before the accident.
Taking my mug over to the couch, I sank down into cushions that collapsed around me and sucked me in, springs fighting over who got to jab me next. New couch. I mentally added it to my list. No way was I sucking back a beer and watching a game on this bad boy. Giving up the fight, I let the cushions claim me as their own, leaning my head back and staring up at the ceiling. Painted a pale cream, it was probably the only part of the apartment that didn’t need fixing, and apart from the odd crack and funny stain, I could live with it. Fixing my gaze on an off-gray shape that, if I squinted, looked a lot like rabbit ears, I waited for my mind to finish its morbid cycle of dancing around the past. I’d discovered this was the easiest way to deal; to not fight it and let the memories wash over me, but to not pay it any attention. I couldn’t stop the onslaught of images, no more than I could prevent myself from thinking about the captivating and sexy Jeanie.
Latching onto the tasty breadcrumb I’d thrown it, my thoughts swerved a full one-eighty, back to the woman who I knew was off limits, but couldn’t stop thinking about.
She’d been nervy. Tongue tied and unsure of herself, her shoulders hunched and eyes cast down more times than not. Her outfit of baggy jeans and tee were all dark, nondescript colors, as if she was deliberately camouflaging herself. Not wanting to stand out, when all I had been able to see was the soft curves hinted at with every small movement, how delicate her hand had been in mine, how soft and
smooth her skin had been against my own work-roughened palms. The dark hair dragged back in a messy ponytail, and dark brown eyes devoid of any enhancements. The cutest little freckles dotting her nose. A small scar at the corner of her lip. Chickenpox? The need to know surged deep inside me.
That was it; she interested me. Nothing more. It was instinct to want to protect someone so obviously weaker than myself, to stand guard and chase away any demons that threatened her. Of course I wanted to make her smile, who wouldn’t? To chase away the shadows in her eyes, to bring a glimmer of a smile to her gorgeous lips.
What man in his right mind wouldn’t?
Then why the hell wasn’t her husband doing his job?
Cursing, I closed my eyes, fingers tightening around the cooling mug. I had been seconds away from stealing a kiss. Seconds away from pushing her up against the wall and tasting her. I’d needed to do it, more than I’d needed air to breathe.
And then I’d seen the wedding ring. She was married. Off limits. And that was that.
A low growl echoed inside my head.
Tough shit, fuzz ball. Plenty more fish in the sea, I sent to him, but I understood his frustration. For some reason the woman fascinated me.
Want her, was his snarled reply.
Yeah. Me too. And, if I had to hazard a guess, it would be that it was a little something to do with the savior complex the guys back at my old station house had informed me about. Ever so gently, so they didn’t push the loose canon over the edge again. Not after the last time. That’s when I’d known it was time to leave. So, here I was, and it was looking like I was back to square one: chasing after people who didn’t need saving.
A loud bang on the door had me lifting my head off the back of the couch, but not much else. Only a few people knew I was in town, and apart from the elusive and off limits Jeanie, they were all family.
Sure enough, the door pushed open and Ryan stomped in, a scowl on his usually good-natured face. “Where the hell were you half an hour ago?” Not bothering to remove his boots, he continued his stomp into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee.
“Help yourself, bro,” I replied.
Coffee halfway to his lips, he shot me another scowl, then drained half the mug in one long swallow.
Torn between riling him up and not having the energy to deal with it, I heaved myself out of the couch, the cushions eventually giving me up with a futile squeak, and made my way over to my brother. “I went out for supplies. I presume it was your bright idea to leave me a list of chores?”
His scowl lifted into a smirk. “It’ll keep you busy.”
“I’ve nearly finished.”
Setting his now empty cup down, the scowl returned. “Damn, that list should have taken your mind off things for at least a week or two. Couldn’t you have paced yourself?”
“Since when have you been so full of doom and gloom?” I had to admit, it was a little worrying. Ryan had always been full of optimism, smart and kind hearted, he was the brother with a smile for everyone. Even as the most serious of the five of us, he’d never let responsibility drag him down, instead rising to the occasion and doing a damn better job than I ever could have. This wasn’t like him. “What’s going on, bro?”
He let out a deep sigh, the sound whistling through his teeth. “Amy might be pregnant.”
I blinked, unable to see the problem. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“She’s lost one pregnancy already. This is too fucking soon.”
Shit. Clasping him on the shoulder, I pulled him into a one armed, back slap of a hug. “Sorry to hear it, man.” Releasing him, I punched him lightly on the same shoulder. “She’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
Blinking suspiciously, Ryan grimaced. “I know, it’s just … dammit … if anything happened to her…” His voice trailed off, his eyes darkening with his unvoiced fears.
I swallowed hard, searching for the right words, but he’d come to the wrong brother. Platitudes and false hope weren’t in my bag of tricks. “You’ll get through this.” One way or another, I added silently, sending a silent prayer to the goddess I didn’t truly believe in anymore, hoping she’d hear me this time.
He cleared his throat, turning away to face the wall. A couple of seconds passed in silence as he sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders rolling, then squaring as his back straightened. “Enough about me, let’s talk about you.”
“Uh, yeah. Let’s not,” I shot back, keeping my tone light.
“You’re back home, bro. It’s been a long time. So, why now? And don’t go telling me it’s because of the vacancy.”
“Being the Fire Chief does have its perks.”
“You don’t care about position or prestige.”
I shrugged. “Nope. I don’t. You want the truth? I’ve had enough of the city. Its loud and crowded and people don’t care about each other.” Or they care too much. “People were beginning to look at me funny, the whispers were starting, you know how it is.”
“Yeah, don’t I ever.” Ryan had never left Craggstone, deciding to reinvent himself as his own kin whenever the townspeople got suspicious of the whole not aging thing. Shaving off a beard did a fucking amazing job of making a man appear years younger.
I folded my arms over my chest, locking eyes with him. “What’s this I hear about some people in town knowing about us?” Something I still couldn’t believe. After all this time, and how careful we’d been, we’d been found out.
“You heard about that, huh?” He didn’t look worried, his face smoothing out, with only a hint of anguish clinging to his eyes. “Not everyone, at least, I don’t think it is. Don’t let it bother you, the townspeople are fine with it.”
“Fine? As in, they’re okay with the fact that grown men turn into huge, man eating bears?” Yeah, so what if I hadn’t managed to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but … what the fuck?
“Really. And we don’t eat people, Max.”
“I know that, but do they?”
He snorted, shaking his head at me. As if this was some kind of joke, but he’d had more time to get used to the idea.
“Who knows then?”
He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his khaki uniform pants. “I’m not too sure, really. Like I said, not everyone. Anyway, back to you, being the Fire Chief in this town is going to be a whole lot different from back in the city.” He pulled a face, as if expecting an argument.
“Good. I’m ready for a change of pace.”
“It’s not going to keep you busy,” he warned.
“Maybe I’ll take up fishing. Or hiking. Or learn to juggle.” Hell, there were a lot of things I’d like to try given the time.
“Hardly high octane adventure.” His dry comment reminded me that he hadn’t seen me in a long time.
“People change.”
Ryan pursed his lips, looking me up and down in that way he had, the Sheriff trying to see beyond the outer mask of man. “That they do. If you get bored, you can always give me a hand at the station.”
“I might take you up on that.” But, probably not. Hibernation had never held any appeal before, but lately it had been all I could think about. Getting some rest, shutting out the world. Wallowing in my guilt. “I forgot to ask earlier, who’s the old man running the grocery store?”
“Funny that, you calling him old. That’s Mr. Colne, you remember him, right?”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s right, the Colne family. Shit, I am old. Is that his grandson working with him? Dark hair and eyes, looks like he needs a good wash and an attitude adjustment?” Ryan’s confirmation was a reminder that time was slipping through my fingers, a sucker punch to the stomach.
He nodded. “Moved down here when his gramps got sick, helps out some but generally spends most of his time at Ralph’s, propping up the bar.”
I returned his nod with a chuckle, “At least he’s got a Ralph’s to go to. Fuck, remember the bar that was open back when we used to go looking for trouble?”
He whistled through his teeth, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m not going on that trip down memory lane with you, bro, not today. Another night with a beer, then maybe.”
Silence stretching out between us, but it was the comfortable kind.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” He gestured at the tools littered around the kitchen.
“I’m good, you go on home and spend some time with your gorgeous mate.”
His face lit up, the love shining out of his eyes plain to see. “She is, isn’t she?”
Walking him to the door, I held it open. “You’re a lucky guy, remember that.”
Ryan paused, his hand on the door frame. “When are you going to come see Mom and Pa? They’re asking about you.”
“Soon, I promise. Let me settle into work first. I’m sure there’ll be some changes needing to be made that’ll keep me busy for a while, but I’ll make time soon.” And it’d give me time to work on a good story to tell everyone. Mom would see straight through me and, unlike Ryan, she wasn’t the type to let things slide.
Ryan didn’t budge, a crease forming on his brow. “The old Chief ran a small but tight team; I doubt you’ll need to change up much.”
Resisting the urge to visibly bristle, I tilted my head. “We’ll see. I have rules, and if they can’t follow them, they’re out.”
My brother blinked at me, his lips twitching as he searched for a reply. “Isn’t that a bit…?” he muttered, his voice trailing off as he took in my face.
“I don’t mess around when it comes to fire,” I replied in a voice that brooked no argument. I edged the door closed, but his foot jammed it open.
He peered at me, his brow furrowing into deep lines. “What happened, Max? I know there’s something you’re not telling me. I heard through the grapevine that you’d lost some people recently, but—”
“Nothing new, right? I should be used to it? That’s what the shrink said too. It was one too many in a long line, bro.” Hell if I was sharing anything more, it was still too damn painful. But, if anyone was going to come near to understanding, it would be my brother—the Sheriff.
