by Jean Oram
“It’s called making conversation, you Neanderthal. Not all women who see you want to hook you.”
His expression turned to one of surprise. She gave him a smug smile, happy to have knocked the panty-dropping grin off his face for the time being. She leaned back in her chair. Even though it was possible she could end up stuck overnight in a place with no running water and heat that barely spread beyond the living room, it could be kind of fun if she got to push JC off his little “I’m so hot” pedestal. Her new life was all about slowing down and having fun again, so why not start now? She was ready to stop worrying about other businesses getting ahead of hers and ready to dropkick pressure out of her life. Ready to find her joy.
She moved her feet as Daphne glided by, placing a juice box on the mantel while she reprimanded her daughter for drinking two in a row.
“Sorry,” Dot said. “I thought that was still her first one.”
“Tigger, you know all that juice will make you bouncy.” Daphne added, “It’s okay, Dot. She’s a little trickster.” She gave her daughter a pointed look, which was returned with a giggle before the five-year-old skipped over to JC, clinging to the arm of his chair as she jumped in place.
“Did you know Nymph Island has fairies?”
JC, who had been about to take a bite of his chicken, paused thoughtfully. “You don’t say?”
“I do say!” Tigger placed her elbows on the armrest, leaning close to the man, eyes wide. “They’re real!”
“Real?”
Simone watched the exchange, curious as to why JC was taking Tigger so seriously. Was he afraid Evander would knock him out again if he didn’t entertain his little girl? If JC wasn’t careful he might become one of her new favorites, and she already had four doting men to choose from. Uncle Finian had won her over with a new party dress and tales from Hollywood; Uncle Connor had saved her from a falling tree. Evander had captured her heart with his love, while quiet Uncle Tristen had done so with his gentle ways, big shaggy dog and teenaged daughter.
“Hey, where’s your dog, Tristen?” Simone asked.
“At home. Probably crossing his legs,” he answered, his face tightening with worry at the thought of his Bernese mountain dog being locked inside for the night.
“I made them fairies houses and they ate the blueberries I left for them,” Tigger whispered loudly, still hanging off JC’s chair.
“Really?” He leaned closer, as though their conversation was the most interesting thing in the room. Which it kind of was. It had Simone intrigued, mostly due to the way JC seemed so genuine and unexpectedly gentle with Tigger.
“They like shiny things,” the girl continued.
“Like sequins?”
“Sequins?” Simone exclaimed. Okay, stop the bus. How did a man like JC know what they were? Shouldn’t he be suggesting manly objects such as ball bearings?
He set her back with a look that said, “We weren’t talking to you, lady.”
Well, she knew where she wasn’t welcome. The jerk. She’d known his nice side was just a front for a nasty under layer. She took her plate and went to join Hailey at the card table near the stairs that led up to the loft.
“Ugh, I can’t stand the smell of chicken,” Hailey complained.
“What’s wrong with it?” Simone asked, waving her drumstick under her nose. It smelled divine.
“It’s just a pregnancy thing.” Her friend leaned away, trying not to inhale.
“Oh. Sorry.” Simone slouched in the hard-backed chair, then picked up her plate and moved to sit with Daphne, who was watching her daughter, likely worried that she was abusing JC’s kindness.
“And other stuff like nickels,” Tigger was saying.
“Those would make perfect stepping stones for their garden,” JC replied.
Tigger’s eyes lit up as she crawled up onto the arm of the chair. JC didn’t seem to mind the intrusion into his personal space and Simone hoped he wouldn’t notice her watching them, trying to figure him out.
“Do you have a fairy garden?” Tigger asked.
JC shook his head, finishing off his own drumstick. “Do you?”
Tigger nodded and held up five fingers.
“Did you know that if you mix Jell-O powder and glitter together after it rains it can help them fly?”
Tigger slowly shook her head, focused wholly on the man. There was something about him that was mesmerizing to all females—any age—wasn’t there? Too bad he was a big, burly, heart-smashing alpha under it all.
“Because, see…” JC shifted to face Tigger more fully. “If they get caught in the rain then their wings’ special flying powder gets washed away.”
Tigger gave him a somber look. “That’s bad.”
He nodded. “But usually what they do is they find a trail left by slugs—you know how they glitter and shine, but disappear after about a day? It’s because the fairies collected the glitter. They use it to replenish their flying powder. But you can mix up your own if there aren’t any slugs around to help.”
“Really?”
He nodded again. “It’s fairy magic.”
“Tigger, that’s enough,” Daphne said, trying to save JC, and making Simone snap to. She’d become totally involved in their conversation again. “Why don’t you come play Go Fish with me and Dot?”
JC waved her away. “It’s okay.”
Tigger was staring at the room’s dark windows, which were rattling in the wind, their closed shutters clanging every so often. “Fairies hibernate.”
“They do?” Simone asked from her spot across the spacious room.
“With the squirrels. They cuddle to stay warm,” she added in a serious voice filled with regret, her focus back on JC. “But the squirrels like to eat their hair ribbons. And make their coats into nests. They aren’t very good at sharing sometimes. I don’t think they went to kindergarten.”
JC chuckled and caught Simone’s eye. She was struck by how he seemed to be an entirely different person while talking to Tigger. Gentle, kind and very real. There were no walls. Not even a hint of the expected jock mentality or that superior grin he’d flashed at Simone moments ago.
But this was good. She’d seen both sides early and wouldn’t fall for him. There was no room in her plans to become confused over an attractive man such as JC. But he really needed to stop smiling and being so sweet to Tigger. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be so nice to the girl, lure her into liking him, then go back to being a big macho guy who wouldn’t even say hello if he passed her on the street. The connection was going to mean too much to Tigger.
“Have you read the Rainbow Magic books?” he asked, head bent low to match Tigger’s. “It’s about little girls who are friends with fairies and get help from them. I think you’d really enjoy the stories if you haven’t read them already.”
Fairy books? Did his sweetness never end? This was so wrong. He needed to stop acting like the man Simone had dreamed about. Carefully, she crossed her arms, pinching the tender flesh on the inside of her arm. Nope. Not having a hormone-induced fantasy.
“She hasn’t learned to read yet,” Evander said gruffly, his own arms crossed, his brow furrowed. Simone smiled in relief. JC’s act wasn’t getting under just her skin, but Evander’s, too. The men would suss him out, help her stay safe—or sane, or whatever it was she needed. Maybe an ice-cold shower.
“I know a few words, like bat and cat,” Tigger said eagerly. “I could read them!”
“Maybe your mom could read them to you? Or, uh, Evander?” JC glanced at the big man somewhat doubtfully.
He gave a sharp nod.
“Right.” Simone stood with her empty plate. Enough of the Mr. Nice Guy act. Time to get to the bottom of who he really was. “So? Beat anyone up lately, or have you been too busy learning about fairies?”
JC gave her a hurt look, the walls folding around him again. She could practically hear them clang and lock back into place, shutting her out so fully she almost had to take a step back.
“Simone…” Hailey said, giving her a funny look.
“You used to get into real knockdowns, didn’t you?” Simone continued, determined to figure out what game JC was playing, to expose him for who he really was.
“Yeah, I did,” he said, standing to face her. “Usually when close-minded individuals tried to place me and my family into a little box.”
Simone gasped. “Are you implying I’m close-minded?”
He simply raised an eyebrow and turned back to Tigger. “Come on, kid. I’ll show you some ribbon designs so you can help your fairies redecorate their hair come spring.”
Simone glanced around the room, looking to see if anyone else was as outraged by the way he’d dismissed her. But everyone’s gaze darted away. Okay, so she’d been a bit harsh, but she’d only been trying to protect Tigger.
“I am not close-minded,” Simone said, her voice small.
JC gave her a “sure, sure” nod and went to retrieve his cell phone out of a snowsuit pocket, then handed it to Tigger.
Simone took her plate to the kitchen and returned to the living room a moment later to find Tigger utterly engrossed by the contents of JC’s phone. Trying to ignore the fact that he’d won over the small girl in such a short period of time, Simone focused on building up the fire again.
JC came up behind her, his presence building a heat within her that wasn’t related to the blaze she was stoking with the poker.
“Push the wood in farther or it could roll out,” he said, as she added another log.
She faced him with a glare. “I know how to stack a fire.”
“And create a fire hazard.”
She growled at him and went back to rearranging the logs. Men like JC were bossy know-it-alls. They played games and weren’t real. Men like him, she reminded herself, told her that she was incapable of love and that all she thought about was her business. Men like JC didn’t see that she wanted the same things as everyone else. All of it. Family. Love. All the trappings of domesticity.
As she gave the log an extra jab she promised herself that even if it was the last thing she did, she was going to prove to JC that she was capable of love. She was going to love him and he was going to love her right back, without getting all insecure about how strong she was.
No, wait.
That was completely wrong.
She was having a baby. Her way. On her own. No JC and all his macho baggage. She didn’t need a man. All she needed was to get home in time for her morning hormone shot.
No problem.
Except for that raging blizzard.
CHAPTER 4
Josh had Simone pegged. She was an unhappy, pretty little control freak who liked having things her way as well as lined up “just so.” She probably dated men like Dustin and expected to change him.
When she’d got all in Josh’s face about knowing stuff about fairies, he’d considered hiding out in a corner until the storm blew over, but had realized that, quite frankly, he didn’t give a damn if she got her panties twisted in a knot. Her problem. Not his. She was probably used to having them wedged up her perfect little butt, anyway. If she had to reduce him to nothing more than a fighting lug so she could overlook him, then she was the one who had issues.
“Should we be rationing food?” Simone asked, as a few of the guys went back for seconds.
Control freak.
Josh adjusted the burning logs in the fireplace, carefully placing the screen across the opening when he was done.
“Who knows how long we’ll be snowed in?” she added. “And while I know this is probably the last time all of us will be together for Christmas—”
“Why?” he interrupted, feeling irritated that she was being so bossy. There was plenty of food in the kitchen and they were all adults who were capable of solving a few food shortage problems without her dictating their lives. “Because we’re going to suddenly starve to death?”
Environment Canada had said tomorrow was supposed to be nice after tonight’s flurries and wind. Getting home wasn’t going to be a problem.
“No, because everyone is moving on,” she snapped.
Without her, obviously. Hence the knotted undergarments.
And while Josh admitted that rationing was likely a smart plan—just in case—at the moment he didn’t feel like conceding any points to her controlling side. He wanted to win and he wanted to put her in her place, wherever that was.
“Afraid of a little storm?” he asked.
“You’re still such an ass.”
He let out a triumphant bark of laughter for getting under her skin so easily.
“Ass! Simone said ass!” Tigger squealed, bouncing in her seat at the card table.
“Tigger!” scolded Daphne.
“Sorry,” Josh said.
“That’s enough, Tigger.” Evander placed his hand over the girl’s. She quieted, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at the big man. That kid was life at its best.
Simone was glaring at Josh, hands on her curvaceous hips. She was sizing him up, likely trying to prevent him from getting under her skin any further. He watched her reassess her line of attack, bolster her defenses, and he admired her all the more even though he didn’t want to.
“When will we get out of here?” Hailey asked. She smoothed her sweater over a small midriff bump, which he noted Simone watched out of the corner of her eye with…was that longing?
Why would someone like her want a kid? He couldn’t even begin to imagine her doting over a gaggle of offspring. Not unless she was a power mom. CEO of the color-coded family calendar.
He smiled at the thought. That he could see, actually.
But if she wanted kids, then why didn’t she have them? She seemed like the type to make things happen, ripping through roadblocks as though they were made of crepe paper.
He shook away the thoughts. He didn’t have time to get curious about a woman like her. He needed to keep her on the defensive so she didn’t unearth his secrets, slaughter him wholesale in front of everyone.
“We’ll catch our flight,” Finian said to his wife, nuzzling her neck as she blushed and curled into him.
Josh had to look away, not quite sure where was safe. Everywhere he turned there were lovey-dovey couples getting friendly, and it made him feel like an intruder. No wonder Simone kept coming and sitting beside him. She needed escape and it was either with him, the surly teenager with strange-colored hair or bouncing Tigger. Personally, he’d choose Tigger, but then again, Simone didn’t seem to appreciate fairies. They were probably too feminine. He let out a chuckle, quickly biting it back when she gave him a look.
“What?” she asked from a few feet away, adjusting photos that were hanging crooked on the wall.
“Nothing.”
“No, what?” she insisted, abandoning her task.
“I was trying to imagine you doing something feminine.”
She appeared taken aback. “I do feminine things all the time.” She ran her hands down her sides, smoothing her outfit, and he immediately imagined her in very feminine, lacy, see-through attire.
“Sure,” he said, not at all trying to hide the way his voice dipped low and gravelly with desire.
She flushed as though she’d been out in the sun too long, and glanced around the room, her desperate gaze finally landing on Melanie Summer, who was wearing a dress over woolly leggings. “I made that dress. By hand. That’s feminine.”
“You made that?” He darted a peek at the garment, which he’d noticed earlier. Melanie wore it as though it had been made specifically for her, from the print and color right down to the style and stitching. If Simone had made that, the woman not only had an eye for design, but some pretty serious talent and skills. Something he’d love to have.
She tipped up her chin. “I did.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She gave an exasperated huff.
“She makes my woman look incredibly sexy,” Tristen interjected, running a hand down his fiancée�
��s back. “New dresses arrive all the time and we—”
“Shh!” Melanie scolded, head tipping down in pleased embarrassment.
“You need to start charging her for these. I’d pay thousands,” Tristen said, nibbling Melanie’s ear. He murmured, “I would have noticed you even without your stunning dress, you know.”
Josh did his best to shut them out as their words became sweet enough to send a diabetic into shock.
He cleared his throat, wishing the fireplace needed more attending. “So you made that dress? By hand? That’s a nice hobby.” He tried to focus on Simone and not the annoying kissy noises that were coming from behind him.
“It’s not a hobby, and I can do other things besides sew, you know,” Simone said, her back straightening. “Being feminine doesn’t get you ahead in this world.”
“Okay.” Josh let out a slow breath, realizing that while he’d been poking at her for fun, her hang-ups seemed to run deep. “Look, I’m sure you do a great job of getting ahead in the world.” He gave her a disarming smile, hoping she’d let it go.
She cocked her head to the side, and he found it difficult not to admire how sexy she looked when she was mad.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
All right. Time to pull the pin and let her explode so they could avoid each other for the rest of their sentence on Nymph Island. Finian moved behind Simone, pretending he needed the poker for the fireplace. He gave Josh a finger-across-the-throat signal.
“It means…don’t pin your issues on me,” Josh said, his voice displaying fatigue with their pointless fight.
Finian’s eyes grew large and he playacted dying a horribly violent death. It was a wonder the man hadn’t won an Oscar, and Josh tried not to appear amused by the comedy unrolling behind an unsuspecting Simone.
She stalked over to him. “Could you be any more condescending?”
“Probably, but I like how your throat gets all splotchy and red when you’re annoyed. I think you’d lose the splotchiness if you got more upset.”
He was right. That smooth skin was already being flooded by more red. This woman was a ball crusher and he happened to like his balls in a unpuréed form. That meant if he planned on coming out alive he needed to end it. End it now.
