“At least you understand,” she said. He scratched at her leg and then trotted over to the back door and scratched it, turning to look at her. “Oh, I guess that’s what you wanted,” she said with a sigh, rising and grabbing her coat
She walked into the kitchen and pulled on her boots. She went through the motions of putting on her hat and mittens, though her mind was on Jackson. It was still blizzard-like conditions and she knew how dangerous it could be in case they got too far from the house. She opened the broom closet and found a yellow toolbox. She flipped open the lid and found a rope right away in the perfectly organized box.
“Figures he’d be this neat,” she mumbled. She paused for a moment, then purposefully took a few screws and bolts out of their compartments and dropped them into other compartments. She felt a little better as she snapped the lid shut. After hooking Charlie’s leash around his collar, she swung open the door, the cold blast making them both step back a second.
“Okay, boy, make this quick,” she yelled above the wind. She squinted, trying to keep an eye on Charlie as he pulled at the leash. It was almost impossible to see even a foot in front of them. How was Jackson able to be out in this for so long? Charlie kept nudging her down the steps, refusing to do his business anywhere near the deck. “You’re as stubborn as your owner, Charlie. Hold on, I’m going to tie this rope around the banister so we don’t get lost.” Charlie waited obediently while she tied a double knot around the wooden handrail.
Hannah tried to focus on not falling in the deep snow. She lost her grip on the leash and swore under her breath while Charlie ran off, exhilarated by his freedom. Hannah yelled after him, forgoing her hold on the rope, instinctively choosing to run after the dog. A few steps out into the almost waist-high snow, the porch light was now impossible to be seen through the thick wind. She yelled Charlie’s name as loud as she could, careful to keep her bearings so she’d be able to walk back to the house. At the sound of a bark she spun around, but there was still no sign of Charlie. She ventured out a few more steps, knowing the situation was getting more and more dangerous. She didn’t have her rope to guide her back and she knew how easily a person could become disoriented and lost in a blizzard. She turned around to where she thought the deck should be and began trudging through the snow, feeling the snow seep through her clothing.
Seconds turned into minutes and Hannah tried not to panic as the only sound she could hear was that of ice pellets, and the only thing she could feel was a frigid cold seep through her. She kept calling for Charlie but couldn’t hear anything except her own voice engulfed by the wind. She trudged along, but with each step felt herself move farther and farther from any chance of finding Charlie. Or the cabin.
No one was going to find her out here. Even if Jackson looked for her, it was impossible to find a person in this. She needed to find her way back on her own. She had been in trouble before. She could do this. She could find her own way back—despite the fact that merely moving her legs through the snow was becoming more and more laborious. There was no way a blizzard was going to be her ending. Emily needed her.
Chapter Seven
Jackson piled the wood logs on the porch and stomped his feet, snow tumbling off his boots. He was used to winters like this, growing up in the North. He actually had a few fond memories of his dad, before his mother died. His father had been kind and patient. Jackson would follow him out to the barn and watch as he’d chop wood for the fire. As a kid, he didn’t quite grasp how dangerous the weather was, though his father had drilled into him how deadly it could be.
Jackson stretched his arms wide, feeling better having worked off some of his frustrated energy while getting the firewood. He hadn’t thought about anything other than Hannah and her accusations. He had never gone from desire to pure anger in a matter of minutes with anyone in his life. Hannah knew how to push all his buttons. She’d made his idea about giving his niece money sound like he was a villain. The more he thought about what she’d said the more he realized how she was right. She got to him. Everywhere.
The glow of the fireplace from the porch made him stop for a moment. For a second he could have sworn he smelled his mother’s baking. And for a moment, he didn’t know why, he let himself stay in the past. He remembered when he’d race into the house after school, his mother stopping him with a smile and shake of her hand, reminding him to take off his shoes. That feeling of love that was always there drifted through him. His little sister would worship him and tag along with him. When did it all go wrong? Why hadn’t their father been stronger for them? He could see all their faces, smiling, laughing around the dinner table.
It had been years since he’d let himself think back to those days. Jackson cursed under his breath knowing his mother would be horrified if she knew he rejected his only niece, his only family because of his anger toward his sister. He rejected her grandchild. That didn’t make him much better than his father, did it? He stamped his feet and fisted his hands so tightly they were painful. He knew what he had to do because no matter that he’d changed his name, he was still his mother’s son and she had raised him better than this.
Jackson blinked back the moisture in his eyes that he knew must be from the ferocious wind, and not some overzealous emotions. He cleared his throat and mentally braced himself for his next encounter with Hannah.
He knew something was wrong the second he walked into the eerily quiet house. He strode down the hallway to Hannah’s bedroom. His eyes narrowed in on Emily, who slept contentedly, but there was no Hannah anywhere. Then he heard the sound of paws scratching the back door and he strode across to the back room, not bothering to take off his wet boots or coat. Sure enough, Charlie was outside on the porch scratching at the door. A sick feeling gripped him as he opened the door and Charlie barked furiously at him. Charlie shook himself clear of snow and continued to bark. The porch light was on, Hannah’s coat and boots were gone, and Charlie had been outside by himself.
He cursed and whipped open the back door, making sure Charlie stayed inside. Genuine fear for Hannah propelled him to act fast as he spotted a half-tied rope on the deck banister. There were no footsteps in sight, which didn’t surprise him. Between the pace of the falling snow and the ferocity of the wind, it would be impossible to track someone in this. He secured the rope and ventured down the steps.
Jackson yelled her name over and over again, squinting against the harsh onslaught of snow. Adrenaline coursed through him as he continued to call out for her, his voice hoarse from the strength of his yell. He swung the floodlight in a circular motion, trying to catch a glimpse of motion. The yard immediately behind the house was free from trees, but he knew if she walked more than thirty feet, the forest would start and would be a deadly maze. If she went in there…he forced himself to stop thinking about how unlikely finding her would be as the minutes ticked by.
He circled the flashlight again and paused for a second, thinking he spotted a flash of color. He moved the light slowly, praying for the first time in his memory for help from above. And there it was. Red. Her pom-pom hat. He kept the light focused on the patch of red and moved as quickly as he could through the snow. He called her name over and over again and came in closer, until finally he could see her face. She screamed out his name and tried to move toward him.
It was the sweetest damn sound he ever heard.
He knew at that moment that Hannah Woods meant a hell of a lot more to him than he wanted to admit. The need to protect her overwhelmed and consumed him. He didn’t question it, he didn’t analyze the why. All he knew was that he needed her in his arms. He could tell from how slowly she moved that he’d arrived just in time. He swallowed up the remaining distance between them in a few strides. When she was right in front of him he saw how red her face was and the blue tinge to her lips.
“You okay?” He wrapped his arms around her and felt her hands clutch his coat.
She nodded against his chest, but he wasn’t convinced. “Hold on, sweetheart,”
he whispered, the endearment coming naturally, though he’d never said it to anyone before. He leaned down and picked her up. Instead of protesting like he half expected, she just curled her face into his neck and wrapped her arms around him.
He let the rope guide them back to the house and prayed that she didn’t have frostbite. He gently put her down on the porch, his arms grasping hers, making sure she was steady. “Come on,” he said, opening the door and taking her hand to get into the house. He had experience with frostbite and cold weather exposure, but this was different, this was Hannah. Courageous, beautiful, smart Hannah. Standing a few inches from her in the darkened kitchen, she raised her green eyes to his and he was torn between wanting to kiss her and yell at her for taking such a crazy chance outside. But the look in her eyes took his breath away. He knew it wasn’t just him that felt this crazy connection. He knew it in the softness, the complete candor in her eyes. She wasn’t hiding from him anymore.
…
“What were you thinking?”
In spite of the pain she felt as the warm air pierced her cold body and the shaking consumed her, she heard the tenderness. She saw the worry in his handsome features, noticed the faint tremble in his strong, capable hands, and it warmed her in a way that nothing ever had. When she heard him calling her name through the blizzard she knew that everything was going to be okay. He’d called her sweetheart. No one had ever called her anything so wonderful. She trusted Jackson, and she had never trusted anyone before. But God, it had felt good to lean on someone, to trust someone with her life. Nuzzled in the reassuring strength of his body, she realized that he had put her ahead of his own safety. Jackson was the only person who had ever put her first.
“Emily?”
He nodded. “She’s fine. Sleeping.”
Hannah smiled shakily at Charlie, who sat and watched her. If there was ever a worried companion, it was him.
“You could have died if I hadn’t found you.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears, her throat burning. She tried to move, but everything hurt. “I can’t move my fingers yet,” she said, holding her hands out in front of her. He gently reached out and enveloped her fingers in his hands. His touch reached that part of her that she had always wondered about, the part that had been shut off so many years before, the place the therapist told her would be there when the right person came along, if she let it happen. She stared at his fingers intertwined with hers, feeling the heat and the strength that radiated from his hands. Of all the people in the world, how could it be him? The one man she was ready to let in?
She didn’t want to think about why he was wrong for her, because as much as she wanted to deny it, her feelings, her attraction, didn’t care about why he was wrong. There had never been anyone so right. In twenty-eight years, she had never felt truly safe. Until tonight, when he found her in a blizzard and carried her so protectively—like she mattered, like she was important.
Jackson pressed her fingers against his face. She closed her eyes and shuddered, partly due to the pain, and partly because of the pleasure of feeling that strong jaw, the tickle of his stubble. She lifted her eyes to his, transfixed by the warmth, the fire in them. When he took her hands and kissed each palm, holding it to his lips, she felt her knees slowly start to give. She wanted to lean in to him, to give in to the overwhelming desire to be held and touched by him.
“Do you know how fast people can get lost out there?” he murmured against her hands, his breath hot and oh so delicious against her cold skin. She had a hard time concentrating, her mind distracted by the sight and feel of his lips.
“Obviously. And I knew what I was doing,” she said, the chattering of her teeth abating. She tried to focus on the conversation and not on the sensation that his lips were causing. “I’ve seen the Little House on the Prairie episode where they get snowed in and they tie a rope from the house to the barn.” The look he gave her almost made her laugh out loud. Almost.
“Hannah, do not tell me you are getting your advice on how to brave a blizzard from a stupid TV show.”
She frowned at him, feigning insult. “It’s not a stupid show. It happens to be my all time-favorite show.”
“You could have died. Charlie is a dog.” It sounded as though the words were ripped from his heart. Hannah felt every bone in her body melt and every speck of laughter that had teased her seconds ago was gone.
She shook her head. “I know what he is. I know what he means.” Her voice sounded odd to her ears. Maybe it was the cold or maybe it was the emotion in her throat as she spoke. She didn’t want him to feel alone anymore, didn’t want him to think that no one else could understand. She knew why he was afraid of adopting his niece now. She had been wrong. He wasn’t selfish, he was afraid. Jackson was a man that gave the people he loved everything. He gave them himself and the betrayal of disappointment, of abandonment was more painful than he could bear.
His eyes turned a deeper shade of brown, his voice a gruff whisper. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed hard. She couldn’t back down, she couldn’t be a wimp her whole life. She wanted to jump into the safety of his arms and stay there, start there. Become the woman she always dreamed of being but never wanted to. Until now. She looked into his eyes, embracing the warmth she saw staring back at her. “I know, Jackson, I know what it’s like to feel that no one loves you, that you’re not worth fighting for.” Those last words were torn from some place deep inside her. And for all the therapy she’d ever had, nothing had ever healed like this. Hannah placed her hand on his jaw and a sensuous heat warmed her body. She didn’t look away as the shock registered in his eyes. He covered her hand with his, staring at her.
Hannah took a step into him, close enough that if she leaned her head forward the solid, hot warmth of his chest could be under her cheek. She wanted to drink in his scent, his heat, his fire, and place her lips on the hot skin exposed at the collar of his shirt.
His hands framed her face and she tilted her head back to look at him. “I know your pain, I know—” She didn’t know she was crying until she felt his lips swoop down and capture the wetness that poured from her eyes. He kissed and sipped, and branded her with sweet promise. His lips traveled her face and finally slipped lower until they touched hers.
They tasted and teased until she opened her mouth with a sigh. A voice, a sound that she didn’t even know she could utter, escaped her throat as his tongue tangled with hers. She had been waiting for him forever. His tongue tasted, tormented, and made love with hers so that breathing was impossible. They fumbled with each others’ buttons, hot fingers tangling together, their lips never parting. When the jackets fell to the floor in a heap, Jackson lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the couch and lowering her with a frenzied gentleness. She reached up for him and he covered her body with his. All that she let herself feel was the desire that ripped through her faster than a hurricane. She knew she needed to let him in, to trust him.
When his tanned hands went to lift her sweater she urgently helped him shrug it off. And any shyness she ever thought she’d have was snapped away by the desire she read in his eyes, and by her own need to take off his clothes. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he drew it over his head and tossed it to the ground, their eyes speaking the words that neither of them were able to say. She felt a throbbing heat escalate with each kiss that he placed on her exposed skin, and soon it felt like Jackson was everywhere.
She plunged her fingers into his soft hair as his head trailed the length of her torso, down to her stomach, and then back up until he reached her breasts. She arched her back when she felt his hands circle around to unclasp her bra. When she felt his mouth move from her earlobe and trace her collarbone with kisses she shivered. But when he found her breasts, his lips tasting and then suckling her nipple, she cried out. Hannah threaded her fingers through his thick hair, pressing his head against her breasts.
“God, you’re so beautiful, more beautiful than I dreamed,” he sai
d before he moved his sweet torture to the other breast. She felt swollen, heady with an insistent sort of desire.
He was strong and powerful, but she felt no fear. Firelight made his tanned skin seem more touchable, more alluring. The reality of what she was doing started trickling into her mind, like a stream at the first thaw of spring, but there would be no spring with Jackson. There would be one night.
“Jackson,” she whispered, his name sounding more like a moan as his lips tormented her skin.
“Mm-hmm,” he answered, clearly not listening. She sucked in her breath as his tongue circled her nipple decadently.
“I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean?” he said, his head lifting. She couldn’t quite make his expression.
She could feel the cold air send goose bumps over her bare skin, despite the blush that she knew began to engulf her as Jackson stared at her, bracing himself on his forearms.
“I mean, this,” she said waving her hand between them, searching for some words to explain her sudden change of heart, something that could make him understand.
Her voice trailed off as he lifted himself off her slowly. She felt for her shirt with her hands, keeping her eyes glued to him. The most profound, intimate, unbelievable experience she’d ever had with anyone and she’d ruined it. Jackson exhaled raggedly and ran his hands down his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said reaching out to touch him but stopping herself, not really knowing whether or not he’d pull away. Why couldn’t she just let herself go? Let Jackson take her to that place of sweet oblivion? As she stared at his muscular back, her eyes wandering over what her hands had worshipped, she knew why. If she slept with him she would fall in love with him, and loving Jackson would be impossible. Loving anyone, giving anyone that kind of trust, that kind of power over her was inconceivable. She had spent her entire life trying to gain freedom and to give it up was unthinkable.
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