Her Mountainside Haven

by Jo McNally

  “I can’t say I understand the difference completely, but that makes sense.” He glanced at the pictures again. “In these photos...”

  “I’ve had anxiety most of my life, but my phobia didn’t develop in earnest until I was twenty-five. I had an...episode...in Philadelphia.” She stared at the floor between them, and he sensed she was sliding back in time. “I saw someone. Someone I never wanted or expected to see again. Someone I thought was in my past. And then there he was, in my favorite bar, right in front of me. Smiling. I couldn’t breathe. I fainted. My friends called an ambulance. It was humiliating.” Her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. “I thought it would be a one-time thing, but then... I kept thinking I saw him everywhere I went. Worried about seeing him every time I left my apartment. Terrified that I’d look up in the grocery store with nowhere to turn and he’d be there.”

  Jillie closed her eyes and took a slow breath. He wanted to stop her, but he had a feeling she was lost in her own world right now and he didn’t want to startle or disturb her. So he waited. He was clenching his wineglass so tightly that he had to set it down, afraid the stem would snap.

  “I stayed home more and more. And if I did venture out, I always thought I saw him, so I stayed home again, and...” She looked up at him. “It snowballed into this.” She gestured toward herself, and then the photos. “Instead of that.”

  “Isn’t there a way to get help for it?”

  She nodded, sipping her wine. “I’ve been in and out of therapy most of my adult life. They say the best way to treat this is a mix of medication and cognitive therapy, which is basically exposing myself to what scares me in small bites, then increasing it.” She sighed, staring into the fire. “And I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to deal with changing medications and disrupting my writing. I’ve figured out a way to live my life and have friends. I mean, I’m okay, right?” She glanced at him and away again quickly, color rising on her cheeks. “I’ve even kissed a guy.”

  “Yeah, you did. You did a great job of it, too.” He frowned. “I take it it’s been a while...?”

  Her color deepened. “A very long time. I was in a casual relationship when this all started. Kyle and I were basically friends with occasional benefits. My world started shrinking, which didn’t leave him a lot of room.” She stopped. Her brows lowered. Her voice dropped. “There was a time...before that...when I was in college...well...” She looked at him, her eyes troubled. “Let’s just say you were far from my first kiss, Matt. I had a couple of wild years back then. I was acting out. Irresponsible.”

  He chuckled softly. “I’ve sown a few wild oats, too. That’s part of life.”

  She nodded absently, only half hearing him. “By the time I moved to Gallant Lake, I’d been off the market for a good long while.” A smile teased her lips, making him feel better. “Besides, the few men I’ve met here were either married to or engaged to my girlfriends.”

  “How did you get to Gallant Lake from Philly?” He stopped, waving his hand. “Never mind. You accused me on the mountain of interrogating you, and I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

  She took another sip of wine, staring at him over the rim of her glass. She leaned against the big leather chair behind her, smiling down at a now-sleeping Sophie before meeting his gaze again.

  “It doesn’t feel like you’re demanding answers from me. It feels like you...care.”

  Oh, he cared, all right. He cared a hell of a lot more than he wanted to admit—to her or himself. He kept his expression as neutral as possible.

  “I do care, but I don’t want to press you if you’re uncomfortable.”

  She looked out the wall of windows, where the wet snow was still coming down. He could hear frozen sleet mixed in, clicking against the glass. Which brought up another curious question.

  “Don’t you feel exposed with all that glass? I know you didn’t have neighbors before me, but still...that’s quite a window.”

  She flashed him a grin, then called out a command. “Alexa, close all blinds.”

  A white cylinder on a side table glowed in response, answering her in a friendly robotic voice, “Closing all blinds.”

  There was a soft whirring sound and like magic, the copper-colored blinds he’d barely noticed before closed automatically. Instead of a nighttime snowstorm, there was a solid wall of warm color. And complete privacy.

  His brow lifted. “Fancy.” He looked around the cozy A-frame. “You’re not exactly roughing it up here, are you?”

  Jillie shrugged. “I’m a recluse, not a hermit. I make a decent living from my books. It’s not writers-in-the-movies money, with their martini lunches every other day and seven-figure advances, but I’ve been fortunate.”

  “Fortunate is buying a winning lottery ticket. You are talented, and you’re being appropriately compensated for that talent.”

  She reached for the fireplace tongs and pushed a crumbling log to the back, making room for another. Matt pushed himself up to his knees and put the fresh log in. Once she’d closed the metal curtain across the hearth to contain the embers, she sat back down. Instead of sitting opposite him, she scooched close to his side, so they were leaning against the same chair.

  Matt wasn’t sure how to respond. Should he put his arm around her? Or give her her space and let her run the show, like he did with the kiss? She seemed to be struggling with what to do next, too, so he reached down and took her hand. Her fingers quickly intertwined with his, gripping tightly. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

  “This is nice,” he whispered.

  Her eyes were wide and dark. “It is.” Her mouth quirked into a shy smile. “And thanks for the compliment on my writing. My agent will tell you I don’t always know how to respond to that stuff. But I appreciate it.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and they sat there, legs extended, entwined hands resting on his thigh, watching the flames begin to snap around the new log.

  Matt tried to remember the last time he’d just held a girl’s hand like this. Maybe high school? He sure didn’t remember it feeling like this—relaxed. Intimate. Perfect. She rubbed her head on his shoulder and moved closer. Yes, please.

  “And speaking of my agent, she’s the one who suggested Gallant Lake. Lisa stayed at the resort for a conference, and said the town felt like it would be perfect for me. Not too remote, but definitely a ways from Philadelphia. I looked it up online, found a real estate agent and ended up here.”

  “Away from him.” Matt didn’t want to bring the specter of whoever had hurt her into the moment, but...there were so many unanswered questions. She stilled for a moment before nodding against him.

  “Yes. My home city became impossible once I knew he was still there, too. As a writer, I can work from anywhere as long as I have Wi-Fi and coffee, so this was perfect. When I got my next advance, I gave most of it to Amanda Randall to redo the place. That’s when it became a so-called smart house, with climate control, the automated blinds and a primo security system.”

  They sat in silence again. She’d changed the subject away from the mysterious him, and Matt was okay with that. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, just because it felt like the natural thing to do. He’d always been more of a cocktails in a hotel room kind of guy. He and his dates always knew where the night was headed. He had no freaking clue where he and Jillie were headed. And he didn’t care. He kept his lips pressed against her hair. What was this woman doing to him?

  “He was in the same foster home as me.”

  Her words were dropped as casually as if she was saying the chair is blue. Matt wasn’t even sure at first what she’d said. When the potential meaning became clear, the chill turned him colder than when he’d waded through the icy water in the ditch.

  “This guy was your foster brother?”

  She went rigid, then shook her head sharply. “He never did anythin
g to deserve the title brother.”

  “Got it.” He squeezed her hand. “You don’t need to...”

  “I was thirteen.”

  God damn. He didn’t want to hear this, but she seemed to need to say it. He released her hand, sliding his arm over her shoulders to pull her closer to his side. Her eyes stayed fixed on the flames, but she pressed up warm against him.

  “It was one of those foster homes that churned kids through like a factory, just to collect the checks. He was seventeen and getting ready to age out of the program in a few months. It started with typical pick-on-the-new-kid bullying. Insults. Shoving and tripping. Then...” She hesitated. “Ted came into my room one night. I think he just intended to scare me, but...he touched me and something changed in his eyes. When I started to cry, he told me to shut up or he’d...” Her whole body seemed to fall in on itself. Matt’s heart clenched when she continued. “Or he’d hurt one of the younger kids. There were twins sleeping in the next room. They were nine.”

  Jillie went quiet. Matt combed his fingers through her hair slowly from scalp to tip. Sophie had shifted so her head was next to Jillie’s leg, and Jillie’s fingers tangled in the fur of the dog’s thick neck. He cleared his throat, or at least he tried. Emotions had knotted everything together inside him.

  “More than once?”

  “On and off for months. There was no real pattern to it. He said if I told anyone, he’d hurt the twins. And I knew he’d do it.” So she’d sacrificed herself. Over and over. At thirteen. He’d never consider Jillie Coleman afraid again. She was the bravest person he’d ever met. “So what happened to end it?” Please tell me someone ended it.

  “The foster dad, or whatever you want to call him, caught Ted leaving my room one night. The school had contacted them because my grades were tanking and I kept falling asleep in class. I couldn’t sleep at home, because I was listening to every little sound to see if he was coming. The fact that the guy suspected what was happening right away tells me I probably wasn’t the first. I think the only reason the fosters reported him was because Ted was about to turn eighteen, so they wouldn’t be getting checks anymore.”

  “Bastards,” Matt muttered. “It was their job to protect you.”

  “Yup.” She sighed. “Social services moved me and the twins. For the first time in my life, I got lucky. I lived with Sandy Ryan until I aged out, and even after that. She was old enough to be my grandmother, but Sandy was the closest to a mom I’d ever known. She’s the one who started calling me Jillie, and helped me find who I was meant to be. She encouraged me to journal, and that’s how the writing got started.”

  He felt the tension pulsing through her body begin to ease as she talked about Sandy. She looked up with a soft smile. “She was my biggest fan when I decided to write fiction. She told me to put my monsters on paper, and that’s what I did. She lived long enough to see my first book published.”

  “So that’s why you write horror? To exorcise your monsters?”

  “I hope it helps other people exorcise theirs, too. In my books, women and girls are the heroes. That doesn’t mean I paint all men as evil or anything, but my female characters tend to find a way to be the champion. I want girls to see themselves as having power.”

  “And your monster? Did they arrest him?”

  “No. The system wanted the whole thing to go away. Nothing to see here, folks. They said they couldn’t prove anything unless I wanted to testify, and even then, it was my word against his. I didn’t want to go to court. I didn’t want to sit there and tell people what he did. I didn’t ever want to look at his face again.” She shuddered. “So everyone just...moved on.”

  “You never had closure.” He kissed her hair. “No wonder it’s still messing with your head.”

  She gave a soft chuckle. “Thank you, Doctor Danzer.”

  “I’m sorry you lost Sandy.”

  “Me, too. She was in her sixties when she took me in, but it was still way too soon and way too fast. She had a heart attack. I never even got to say goodbye.”

  “I used to say that about my parents, too. I never said goodbye. But I think with the people we love, that’s a moot point. They already know we love them. That we want them to stay here with us forever. They know we don’t want to lose them. A spoken goodbye doesn’t change that connection.”

  She pushed back and looked up at him, her dark eyes warm and just a bit amused.

  “That’s pretty deep, Matt.” Her smile faded. “You became a parent to Bryce at a young age.”

  “I was twenty. I had to grow up fast, but I was ready. I had to be.”

  “You had to give up a lot.”

  Matt shifted as the latest log on the fire fell into two pieces, sending sparks and embers up the chimney. After hearing her story, it felt weird to think of what were basically inconveniences by comparison.

  “I gave up...plans. Things that weren’t real in the first place. It’s not like...”

  They both paused, and she broke the silence first.

  “I hear you. I lost my childhood. And a big chunk of my emotional well-being. But you lost something, too. You gave up your future—at least, the future you’d envisioned.” She looked up again. “What were you going to school for?”

  “Architectural engineering.” He gave her a slanted grin. “So I didn’t give up that much. I wanted to design and build new things. Now I use that knowledge to rebuild old things, and that works fine. I started as a grunt with a friend of the family who was a contractor. Moe taught me everything about quality construction. No cutting corners. No saving a penny here when it might cost you a fortune to repair down the road. He offered to loan me the seed money to start my own company, but once Bryce got hot on the competitive ski circuit, we hit the road. I’d pick up a few houses or businesses to flip wherever he ended up training. Footloose and fancy-free.”

  “Do you miss having roots?”

  “Nah. Bryce is a royal pain in my ass a lot of the time, but we’re closer than a lot of brothers because of the life we lived. I wouldn’t trade that for picket fences and a minivan somewhere.”

  “But Bryce is a full-grown man these days. You’re not going to follow him around forever, are you? Because that would go from sweet to creepy pretty fast.”

  He snorted, but she wasn’t wrong. Bryce had been pushing back at the idea of Matt continuing as his manager lately. But Matt liked knowing what the finances were and who Bryce was hanging out with. His vow to his parents was never far from his mind. There was bound to be a battle if Bryce got serious about breaking free.

  He didn’t want to think about that right now—or talk about it—so he tipped Jillie’s chin up with his fingers, catching her by surprise. He lowered his face close to hers.

  “Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

  Her smile deepened. “Not at all. In fact, I think it would be very sweet.”

  And it was sweet. At first. Within mere seconds of their lips connecting, things got spicy. The kiss deepened, and Matt’s arms encircled her, pulling her close against him. She turned, her leg sliding over his. His mouth never left hers as their bodies slid to the floor. She let out a soft moan, her fingers twisting in his shirt. His hands began to move, sliding down her sides, lining her up beneath him until he was settled between her legs. They were fully clothed as they moved against each other...and it was sexier than any other moment Matt could remember.

  His fingers moved beneath her butt and gripped tightly as he slid back and forth. He didn’t have to lift her hips—she was doing that on her own. She made soft little sounds as she turned her head to take the kiss to the next level. This kiss was sweet, all right. It was like sugar injected right into his veins—a sugar high he didn’t ever want to end. He was still commando in these borrowed sweatpants. She had to feel him. Had to know he wanted to be inside her.

  The thought made him dizzy. He
’d never considered making love to this woman...well, other than in his dreams, which he had no control over. But right now? Right now it was the only thing in the world he wanted. Take the ski lodge, God. Take my car. Take my savings. Take it all. Just let me lie with Jillie Coleman tonight. One night. One perfect night.

  He lifted his head, staring down into her wide, dark eyes. Her chest was quickly moving up and down. He placed his hand in the center of her chest, sucking in a sharp breath as he felt the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. He took her hand and placed it over his heart. Her eyes went nearly black with desire.

  “Do you feel that, Jillie? Do you feel how our hearts are racing in the same damn rhythm? Like a team of matched horses?” He cupped the side of her face. “Don’t we owe our hearts a chance to see what happens next? Can you imagine what it would be like to race together?” He kissed her soft lips. “I can’t imagine it, but damn, I want to see it. Don’t you?”

  Her lips parted, her nostrils flaring, moving with each intake of air. Her eyes told a different story, though. Doubt and fear were taking hold.

  “I do, but...”

  He opened his mouth, wanting to scream no buts! That would make him a selfish SOB, though. And that was not who he wanted to be with Jillie. He closed his eyes and tried to harness his desire. Put the brakes on his plans. He wasn’t going to pressure her, especially after knowing her story. He finally managed to nod his head, meeting her eyes again. Her hand was still over his heart, so he took it and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her palm.

  “It’s okay. I get it. We don’t go any further unless you want to. I didn’t mean to push you past what you’re ready for.” He started to sit up, willing his body to stand down, trooper. He held her hand, bringing her up with him.

  Her mouth curved into a frown. She stared at him through thick lashes. The brave, sultry woman she’d just been started to fade away. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, then closed again.