by Jean Oram
“These?” She held out her phone for him to see. He nodded. “They’re beautiful. And obviously much loved.” The expression on her face reassured him. She saw the beauty in the creations as well as how they brightened the days of small children. A win-win. But he wanted to do more. He wanted to reach further, touch more lives.
Polly put down the phone, hands on her hips. “You need to talk to Simone. For real. These are amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“Do it,” she insisted.
“Right now?” he joked.
“Just tell her I sent you and she’ll help you until the world ends.”
He was pretty sure he’d discovered the loophole on that claim.
“She’s connected,” Polly continued, turning back to the dishes. “She’ll know everyone you need to meet in order to make this a go. Seriously. Talk to her.”
“Right now?” he repeated, still joking.
“Well, she’s probably having supper with her mother.”
“Her parents are split up?” he asked, trying to disguise his interest by polishing the blade of his mother’s old carving knife. It had been a wedding gift from her first marriage, to Patrick/Patricia, and it always made Josh think about those confusing times when his mom had tried to support her partner the best way she could, but finally had had to go separate ways when Josh’s father went through his metamorphosis into womanhood.
“They split up when she was a teenager. A real piece of work. Always pushing her to do more and work harder. I remember her winning an award for top marks and he asked her why she hadn’t got 100 percent. The look on her face…” Polly paused, her mouth pinched with anger on Simone’s behalf. “I’ll never forget it. She was crushed. But the next year, what did she do? Got 100 in math.”
“Does she see him much these days?” Josh felt as though he was close to something.
“I think they talk on the phone.”
He waited for her to continue unloading her peeves about Simone’s father. Josh’s patience was rewarded when his sister turned, still ticked off. “Nothing was ever good enough and he made her work harder and longer than everyone else. It’s no surprise she’s as successful as she is, but I don’t think it came without a price. She keeps telling me she wants an understanding, touchy-feely guy, because she can’t keep a man longer than about five seconds.” Polly laughed. “But a woman like her? She needs someone who’s determined and can stand up to her, or she’ll walk all over him without even realizing it.”
Josh nodded in agreement.
“She just needs someone awesome, you know? A guy who will support her and encourage her without pushing so hard or taking over with his own ideas. There has to be a point where enough is enough, and good enough is good enough. Everyone wants to feel as though they’ve made their parents proud. I don’t know if she’s ever felt that.”
So good ol’ Simone was fighting ghosts, not him. Josh had sensed that, but had still allowed himself and his own ego to get in the way.
She was strong, but afraid of failing. She feared not being enough for those who cared about her, hence her practice of always giving the Summer sisters dresses, which must take inordinate amounts of time. She had a father who pushed her to do well in her field and what had she done? Sold it all.
That woman was about as lost as a blind man reading a paper map.
It was time someone told Simone Pascal that she was special, amazing and most of all, enough. Enough for him.
As long as she thought he was enough for her.
Polly wiped down the counter, then faced him. “So? Are you going to talk to her and get some advice?”
“Yeah.” Josh reached for his coat. “And I think I’ll do that right now.”
CHAPTER 11
Josh never did find Simone on Christmas Day. Nobody had come to the door at her mother’s house or her own. By then, out of leads, he’d lost the steam behind his mission to convince Simone he was her man, and had ended up going home.
That had been three days ago, and he was feeling more and more miserable with each hour that went by and he hadn’t figured out an amazing “we’re meant to be together” speech that would knock down her walls so she could fall into his arms once and for all.
Josh pulled into the grocery store parking lot, having spent the entire afternoon bouncing through Lake Rosseau’s drifts. He’d reclaimed his snowmobile from Nymph Island, winching the dead machine up onto his truck. He was hungry and ready to indulge in a hot barbecue chicken, potato salad, and a couple beers in front of tonight’s hockey game with his favorite teams, the Boston Bruins and Toronto Maple Leafs.
He would not spend the night thinking about his projects.
And definitely not thinking about Simone.
Not tonight.
Parking toward the back of the lot, he trudged through the couple inches of wet, heavy snow that had fallen during the day. Shoppers were struggling, the snow-covered asphalt causing their carts to become unwieldy machines. After watching a woman in a red parka unsuccessfully shove hers through the mess, the front wheels digging in and tipping the cart forward every time she got momentum, he finally gave in and went to help. By the time he reached her, she had come around to the front of the cart, puffing as she tugged it forward.
He hesitated for a second, then picked up the cart and carried it.
He felt entirely unprepared to face Simone despite the baker’s dozen speeches he’d rehearsed in his head over the past few days. All he had to do was open his mouth and start talking, but the only thing he could think about was how cute her thighs looked peeking out from under her bulky coat and how pale she seemed, with dark circles smudged under her eyes.
“Where’s your car?” he asked.
She pointed across the lot to a black SUV that looked as well kept as the woman who drove it.
“Have a good Christmas? Get home in time?”
“I caught my mom’s flu. It’s left me wiped out.”
He set the groceries inside her vehicle, pausing as he tried to think what to say.
“Thanks,” Simone said. “And I wanted to…” She glanced up, a battle happening behind her eyes. He took a step closer, not wanting to miss a single word that came out of her plush lips.
“I knew it!” A male voice came from behind them, causing Josh to tense. “I always knew it.”
Polly’s ex-husband, Chuck. Not what he needed right now.
Simone’s shoulders drooped and she turned to face the man, but Josh ushered her into her vehicle.
“Go. You don’t look like you’re in the mood to deal with a severe case of dick-itis today.”
A small smile curved her lips and she shot him a grateful look. He pulled her seat belt out of its retractor, handing it to her. She didn’t even balk at the help, which buoyed his hopes.
“I always knew it,” Chuck said, drawing alongside Josh.
“Have a safe drive home, Simone. If you need anything, I’m always running to the store.”
“Okay.”
Josh looked back at her in surprise, having expected an argument.
“When Polly told me about your latest venture—your gay little hair accessories—everything finally clicked,” Chuck said.
Josh sighed and screwed his eyes shut, summoning the strength to hold back what would surely be an immediate desire to sock the man in the jaw. For some reason, the urge to prove his manhood didn’t surface. There was no flare of anger, no flash of need so intense he found himself pummeling Chuck’s ugly nose. He opened his eyes to find Simone staring at him.
How about that? He might actually be okay.
Maybe being different didn’t always mean pain or anger. And yet he’d seen so many people get hurt for letting their freak flags fly.
Was it because Josh finally didn’t care what others thought? That he realized those who attacked were often those who were unfulfilled and weren’t following their own true path? Was it because he knew that his new business was truly him and that if he
followed it he could make a difference in the lives of others? Did being secure in his sense of self negate everything else?
Maybe this was why Patrick/Patricia never fought back or engaged in self-defense.
“You’re just like your dad,” Chuck said. Josh winced, feeling the cut of the blow on his father’s behalf. “Or whatever he is now that he’s had his balls chopped off.”
Josh felt the familiar urge to strike, the desire to protect Patricia flaring inside him. But he kept his back turned, absorbing the support he was silently receiving from Simone of all people. He gave her a tentative, what-can-you-do smile, not sure what was going on in her head.
Her quiet curiosity had turned to the brightness of dawning comprehension.
Great. Just what he needed—her pointing out the fact that he seemed to be having his own gender issues with his new career of choice.
She slid out of the vehicle and into his arms, surprising him. Her lips landed on his, hot with want, kissing him in a way that would turn Sir Elton John straight.
She released Josh, ignoring Chuck. “You’re a good man, Josh Carson.” She tapped his chest almost playfully. “Don’t forget to remind me to discuss that deal with you for your accessories. I think it’s going to become huge.” She placed a gloved finger over his lips when he gave her a confused frown, then slipped back into her vehicle, shutting the door and starting the engine.
What deal?
Oh, dang. She was covering for him, building him up, making Chuck squirm with the hint of possible success raining down on Josh.
Simone Pascal had his back.
He grinned. The kiss had been pretty good, too. Although kissing her always felt like the most natural, real thing he’d ever done. And would like to do again. And again.
There was something about that woman.
There really was.
Damn, he was going to fall even deeper in love with those bossy pants of hers if he wasn’t careful.
Wait.
Love?
Aw, crap. He was doomed, wasn’t he?
And couldn’t be happier, because she’d kissed him. By choice. Even if it was simply to shut up Chuck.
Things were definitely looking up for a certain Josh Carson of Maple Avenue. Yes, indeed.
Josh turned to the silent man beside him as Simone drove away. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Wasn’t that Simone Pascal? She doesn’t date just anyone, you know.” Chuck sized him up. “Last I heard she was dating one of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Is she trying to get you to go straight?”
All right. Josh had had about enough. He stood a little closer, allowing his size to intimidate as he moved into the man’s space. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Polly says you’re having issues getting the divorce papers signed on time.”
“Oh. Well, I…I need to discuss things with my lawyers.”
“What’s the holdup?” Josh clenched his hands into fists, squaring off.
“I’m sure it will get all straightened away in the new year. Holidays, lawyers, you know how it is.”
“I’d hate for my sister to be held back in any way. If by February she isn’t free of you, you’ll start answering to me.” He smiled, thinking that maybe his old identity of being a troublemaker wasn’t so bad to have on hand.
“I—of course.”
“Good. Happy New Year.”
Josh left the man standing in the middle of the lot. As he headed into the grocery store, doubt started to seep in about the intent behind Simone’s kiss. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who took favors without repaying them. Was she trying to level the score for the way Josh had saved her back on Nymph Island? If so, he was going to have to find many more favors to do for Simone. Many, many more.
* * *
Simone finished curling her eyelashes, then layered on the mascara. She leaned back and studied the effect. Her eyes were smoky and sultry, her dress hugging her in all the right ways, tucking in below her ribs before flaring out over her hips. She slipped on heels that emphasized the length of her legs and, using her curling iron, placed a loose curl in a wayward strand.
Good enough. She checked her watch. Fashionably late.
She would definitely catch the eye of JC at Polly’s New Year’s Eve party. Simone wasn’t proud of the way she’d left him on Nymph Island on Christmas morning, but their grocery store encounter had been pretty decent. Her only regret was how she’d had to make such a hasty exit after that steamy kiss, in order to play out her ploy to make Chuck jealous of JC’s new venture.
Gay?
She knew JC wasn’t. And now she felt doubly bad for tagging him with the term when he’d obviously dealt with that sort of thing enough, given his father’s own gender issues. But the poor guy was going to have a tough time proving he was still a macho man after he went public with his accessory business. A smoke jumper making delicate, pretty hair ribbons for little girls. It was sweet and she loved him all the more for going for it.
She wasn’t sure where she stood in JC’s world, and hoped he’d come to the party tonight so she could talk with him. If that didn’t work, she’d force herself on him with business plans and lists of connections.
She drove to Polly’s house, knowing the Summer sisters were due to arrive around the same time. She half hoped they’d already be there, half hoped they weren’t, so she could talk to JC without them interfering.
Polly took her coat at the door and ushered her into the ginormous house she used to share with her husband. Music was playing in the living room and her tasteful Christmas decorations were still up. The scent of cinnamon wafted from a nearby row of candles and Simone wondered where everyone else was.
“Am I early?”
“Perfect timing,” Polly replied.
Simone hated being the first to arrive at parties, although in this case it might give her a chance to catch up with her friend.
“How are things going?” She’d noticed that the more masculine décor items seemed to be missing from the house, which meant Chuck had likely experienced the full boot since the last time Simone had been over, a few months ago.
“Pretty good.” Polly smiled as though she had a secret.
“Who is he?”
“What do you mean?” Her friend frowned, tucking her white cardigan tighter around her thin frame.
“The man who has you smiling?”
Polly let out a bubble of excited laughter. “Oh, he’s nobody. Nobody yet, anyway.” She raised her eyebrows, grinning. She led Simone into the dining area, where an appetizer feast had been beautifully laid out. “Make yourself at home. Nothing is off-limits.”
“Other than the man who has you smiling? Name, please?”
“Maybe he’s not for me.”
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare set me up with someone.” Especially if he’s not your half brother. Simone stepped toward her friend as though she could stop her from causing havoc in her life.
The doorbell rang and Polly gave her a teasing grin before hurrying to the entry, where the door was already opening. “Josh! Happy New Year.”
Simone felt a rush of nervous energy rush through her, sending her thoughts into a tizzy. She wanted to run out the back door so she wouldn’t have to face to JC, but at the same time she wanted to run up and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. She quickly poured herself a glass of wine, knocking it back. She refilled the glass, then, muttering to herself about acting cool and calm and most of all collected, she joined the others in the entry.
JC, who had just hung up his ski jacket, allowed his gaze to slowly linger over her. Unapologetic, hungry, but reserved. Totally JC. His attention paused on her glass. He met her eyes, knowing exactly what the drink meant.
“Are you here alone?” he asked.
She gave a coy shrug of her shoulders. “The night’s still young.”
“Allow me to top up your glass,” he said, placing a warm hand at the base of her back, sending rivulets of desire coursing through her b
loodstream. He curved his body protectively around hers, guiding her to the kitchen when the doorbell rang again, as though worried someone might steal her away.
She loved where this night was going already.
“I’ll just get the door,” Polly said, clearing her throat.
“I think I forgot to thank you for your help at the grocery store the other day. With my groceries and with Chuck,” Simone said to Josh as they entered the kitchen.
“I should thank you for rescuing me from him.”
She turned to him, placing a hand lightly against his chest, then backing off, the heat from their touch too distracting.
“I mean it.” She regarded him through her lashes. “Thank you. For everything.” She knew she was being vague. Nevertheless, his head tipped, acknowledging her intent.
She let out a sigh of relief. No digs. No machismo.
Instead, JC gave her a wicked grin, full of mischief as a hint of scorching desire flared through his blue eyes, making them darken. “Have I mentioned I have a soft spot for damsels in distress?”
No. Just no.
She told herself to cool it—that he was simply testing her. She knew she had some pretty explosive trigger points, but that still didn’t mean he should push them.
“You know I’m teasing, right?” He sounded worried and his hand drifted up to her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The move was reassuring and her head drifted toward him as though pulled by a magnet. He massaged her shoulder, his free hand adjusting a loose strand of her hair so it stopped tickling her chin. He moved closer, his aftershave sweet and spicy. She trusted him, knew he would never intentionally hurt her and that she needed to let go of her issues—for him. For them.
“Do people never tease you?” he asked.
“Not if they want to live.”
“You need to know that I tease because I care.” He was nuzzling her curls now, and she was having issues with breathing and rational thought as well as keeping her wineglass upright. “If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t tease you.” She tipped her head, offering her neck with a moan as the heat of his breath traced a line up her flesh to her earlobe.
