by Donna Alward
He drove to his house, a bungalow hidden by trees on White Rock Road. It wasn’t anything overly special. Probably twenty years old or more, plain white siding, dark blue shutters on the windows. An oversized garage sat to the left of the driveway with a handful of cars waiting outside. A large white and blue sign announced Jackson’s Auto Repair. His business as a mechanic paid the bills, and he was a proud member of the Volunteer Fire Department. Chris was only a year older than she was and he already had a mortgage, a new vehicle, had a career. He was a respected member of the community.
It was rather intimidating.
He’d always had a path clearly marked, hadn’t he? The only thing missing was the wife, the kids, the dog. But give him time. He’d have it all, right on schedule. She’d bet money on it—if she had any.
She got out of his truck before he could come across and open her door. It was perfectly quiet up here—far enough away from the highway that there was no traffic noise, and the nearest neighbor was several hundred yards away and on the other side of a line of maples, their leaves already turning orangy-red in the mid-autumn warm days and cool nights. Her feet crunched on the gravel of his driveway as he went ahead and unlocked the door.
She stepped inside.
His house was scrupulously clean, if a bit barren. A leather sofa, coffee table and entertainment unit made up the sum total of furniture in the living room. There were no pictures on the walls, no little decorating touches. The hall to the left was down to the bare wood, and closed doors led to the assumption that the bedrooms were down there. The kitchen was big and roomy with solid maple cupboards and a table and chairs in an eating area. Beyond the table was a sliding patio door leading to a greying deck.
“I’ve only been here a few months,” he explained. “I don’t have a lot of furniture. I didn’t have room for it in my last apartment, and I’m renovating so it kind of seemed pointless to buy stuff before I get it all done.”
She nodded. “I should call home,” she said quietly. “Or text.” There was an added attraction to texting. It would be a lot cleaner and easier than a phone conversation.
“They’re probably worried. You should call.”
She knew he was right, so she picked up his phone and dialled the number. He was right, as usual. Her mother was horribly worried. She’d always been overprotective and a trouble borrower, ever since Ally’s sister had died in an accidental drowning. Now her voice came through the receiver loud and clear. Ally was constantly aware of Chris standing just a few feet behind her as she made her assurances that she was fine. And then when she said she was at Chris’s for a while, there was a telling pause on the other end of the phone.
A silence that she knew Chris heard as clearly as she did.
And since she was at Chris’s, and her parents had always thought she was crazy to give him back his ring, no more was said about it.
She hung up the phone, uncomfortable in the quiet.
Chris put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, then moved past her and down the hall. “Come on,” he said. “Bathroom’s this way. You can get cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”
He opened a door on the right and flipped on a light switch. “Towels are in the cupboard behind the door,” he called from the next room. She opened the cupboard and took out a fluffy bath sheet. When she turned around, he was standing in the doorway holding clothes in his hands.
“They’ll be a little big.”
Her stomach did a little flip knowing she was going to be wearing his clothes. “Thanks,” she answered, taking them from him. Her fingers brushed against his hand and tingled from the simple contact. It seemed to erase the time they’d been apart, taking her back to three, four years ago when it had been nothing to curl up in Chris’s sweatshirt or feel his hands on her skin.
She’d gotten used to seeing him around town without all the memories rushing through her brain. It had been over for a long time. But not today. Today was different. And right now it was just the two of them standing in the doorway of his bathroom.
“You can use my shampoo and stuff,” he said, his voice sounding lower, softer than she remembered. Before she could look up into his eyes, he turned on his heel and left her there, standing awkwardly holding the enormous towel and his clothes.
She had to stop this nervousness around him. They’d been over and done for a long time, and it had been her choice. Why couldn’t they just be friends, acquaintances, neighbors? It was a small town. They’d managed this long, right?
She turned on the water and let it heat up before stripping off and stepping in the tub. The scent of acrid smoke rose in the moist steam of the shower, stronger as she stuck her head under the spray. Her lip wobbled as she reached for Chris’s shampoo, something herby and woodsy, the same scent she’d recognized when he’d come up behind her tonight. She ran her fingers through the tangles in her hair. Now the scent was all over her, running down her back and shoulders as she lathered and rinsed. She eyed his bath puff and body wash and decided to simply soap up using her hands. She washed off the dirt of the day, the panic, the fear and the loss.
It was the loss that did it. Her hands halted and tears sprang to her eyes as she felt her heart break. Not just for the loss of the shelter, though that was absolutely devastating. But for Chester and the kittens, and the rest of the animals who were now without a home. The thought of them left inside the building while the fire…
Her face crumpled and she braced her hand on the wall of the shower. She should have done more. She should have gotten them out somehow.
She should have made sure that fire never happened.
When she had cried herself out and the water was losing its heat, she shut it off and squared her shoulders. She wanted to know how and why that fire started.
And once she knew that, she was going to start over. Everyone said she wasn’t a finisher, but that was just because she’d never found the one thing she believed in enough to see through to the end. Until now.
But she wasn’t going to do it tonight. She folded her dirty clothing into a neat pile and realized with heat in her cheeks that even her underwear reeked of smoke. She’d have to go commando beneath Chris’s clothing, an intimate thought made tactile as she pulled on the baggy flannel pants and T-shirt, feeling the soft material against every inch of her skin. She pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go and ignored how obvious it was that she was not wearing a bra. At least the shirt was dark blue and not a pale colour…
She’d ask him to take her home. She’d had her cry and cleaned up. There was no other reason to stay, was there?
Chapter Two
Chris stood up when he heard the bathroom door open. It had been hellish sitting in the living room listening to the shower running. He’d started to worry when she seemed to be taking so very long. Now, as she came down the hallway carrying her dirty clothes, he understood why the shower had been a long one. Her eyes were red-rimmed and slightly puffy. She’d had herself a cry in there and Chris was a bit relieved, to be honest. It was far better to get her emotions out than hold them inside to fester like an uncleaned wound. Ally had lost the shelter and not all the animals had been saved. He knew she was traumatized. Her tears were a sign she was starting to deal with it.
“Thanks for the use of the shower,” she said quietly. It looked like she was trying to smile but her lips only curved up briefly before falling again.
“Here.” He reached down and picked up a glass. “I got you a glass of wine.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You have wine?”
“I keep the odd bottle around.” He held out the glass until she came forward and took it.
“You were always a beer man,” she mentioned, holding the glass in one hand and her dirty clothing in the other.
So she did remember. There were times he saw her around town that he wondered. She had a way of looking at him that was so bland, so impersonal, it was like they’d never been lovers. In love. Engaged. He swallowed. Asking All
y to marry him had been a miscalculation at the least, a colossal mistake at the worst.
And the knowing way she was looking at him now spoke volumes. He wondered if she’d be surprised to learn that in the two months since he’d taken possession of the house, she was the first woman to set foot in it?
“Still am a beer man,” he answered. “Here, let me put those in a bag for you.”
He reached for her clothes, realizing too late that, while neatly folded, her panties and bra peeked out from beneath her shirt.
Funny. He didn’t usually find women’s underwear intimidating. And she wasn’t even wearing it…
Which made him realize that she couldn’t possibly be wearing anything beneath the pants and T-shirt he’d given her.
His body went hard.
“Chris? The bag?”
“Oh, right.” He took the clothes from her hands, went into the kitchen to grab a shopping bag from the broom closet and dumped them inside. He let out a breath. Maybe bringing her back here had been a mistake. But he’d seen the glazed look in her eyes and he knew how her parents could be. Suffocating. It all stemmed from losing their older daughter. They tended to be on the overprotective side. What Ally had needed was space to breathe, to get her balance again.
He counted to ten, reminded himself that she had broken up with him, and hoped that the embarrassment and pain would be enough to deflate the situation. He was wrong. And he couldn’t stand in the kitchen forever. He’d have to just hope she didn’t notice. Things were awkward enough.
He kept the bag in front of him and once he’d handed it over, he sat down on the sofa. “Come, sit, drink your wine,” he suggested. He picked up his glass of ice water.
She sat on the opposite side, not quite pressed up against the arm of the sofa but with the centre cushion separating them. It was the only place to sit in the room, and the distance between them was obvious.
“You look better. Smell better.” He angled her a teasing look, hoping to dispel the tension that had filled the room ever since she’d come out of the bathroom. His heart twisted a little at the sight of her puffy eyelids.
“I feel better. I had a minor meltdown in there.”
“I figured. You took quite a while.”
“I can’t believe it’s gone, you know? And Chester, and the kittens…” Her eyes filled with tears again. “It is…was…a no-euthanize shelter. It doesn’t seem fair that after all that, they’re gone anyway.” She sniffled.
“I’m sorry they didn’t all get out.”
She shook her head. “No, you were right. No one else should have gone in there. It was too dangerous. It was way smarter to open the cages and let them go. If you hadn’t helped not many would have gotten out alive. I know it’s lucky that we only lost a few. But it still hurts. They were so sweet.” She held out her hand. “This kitten, Marmalade, would curl right up in your hand and purr. She loved having her ears rubbed.”
She turned her blue eyes up to his. They were bright with moisture, wide with pain, and yet there was something behind them he didn’t expect. Determination. “I want to find out why this happened, Chris. Even if it’s something I did unknowingly. I have to know why.”
“The investigation will shed some light on that,” he reassured her. “And while you were in the shower, I called Dr. Swan. She assured me that all the animals are doing fine. And they’re keeping their eyes open for the one that’s missing.”
“Moose,” she said, her brow furrowing. “I’m not surprised he took off. He has some fear issues.”
“Well, she said a couple of the dogs had gone home with staff for the night, and the others are at the clinic.”
“Oh, that’s good news.” She sank back into the cushions, letting out a sigh of relief.
“She also said you can call her if you want to, but otherwise she’ll speak to you tomorrow. And that you’re not to worry about a thing.”
“I think I might possibly be too tired to call. Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.”
“I knew you’d want to know. Dr. Swan said to tell you to look after yourself. She sounded very worried about you.”
“Lindsay is a good woman who has been a fantastic friend of the shelter. I couldn’t do this without her. I’ll call first thing in the morning and see what’s to be done about the dogs. There are too many for her to keep for very long.”
Chris put down his glass and reached over to put his hand on her knee. “It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”
“I hope so.” She toyed with her glass. “It was a big job getting it going in the first place. Now it’s like starting all over.”
“What about insurance?”
She shrugged. “Insurance will cover some of the contents, I suppose. But the building wasn’t ours. We rented it. In fact, we were looking at relocating because the landlord wanted to raise the rent. As a charity, that’s a tough pill to swallow, you know?” She sighed. “We don’t have a choice now. But we’ve also lost all our equipment, cages, food…”
“Don’t think about it.” Chris could tell she was feeling overwhelmed again. “You can figure that out later. One thing at a time, and right now it’s looking after you. Making sure you’re okay.”
She looked at him so sweetly he nearly forgot the edge of bitterness he still felt when he thought about their breakup. It still hurt, knowing they’d been so close but that she’d been able to walk away so easily.
“I’m okay thanks to you. A lot of animals are okay thanks to you. You saved us today, Chris.”
He’d left his hand on her knee, and now she put her hand on top of his. It was warm and soft and without thinking he turned his over so his fingers were twined with hers. For all the hurt, he’d never hated her. It was impossible to stay angry with Ally. She was too kind of a person.
That kind nature was part of why her leaving had hurt so bad. It would have been easier to get over her if she’d been nastier, selfish, vindictive. But she was none of those things. She never had been.
“I was just doing my job,” he said. But he knew that wasn’t strictly true. For a second today it had been intensely personal. All he had to do was think about her wide, frightened eyes and he had the urge to pull her into his arms and protect her.
He was suddenly aware that his thumb was stroking the soft skin at the top of her hand. And that she hadn’t pulled away.
“I was so scared,” she whispered. “I knew I had to try to get as many out as I could, but I could taste the smoke and hear the fire and I was terrified. And then you were there.” She slid over on to the cushion between them, turned and put her arms around his neck. “I was never so glad to see anyone in my life.”
“You’d never know it.” His voice came out all husky, and he swallowed, putting an arm around her back, trying to hold on to his composure. It was difficult when she was pressed against him, smelling like his shampoo, wearing his clothes. “You started barking orders.”
“Only because I saw you and I knew it would all be okay. I knew you’d make sure it was okay.”
It was the grandest statement of trust he’d ever heard. And certainly unexpected from her, who’d been so disapproving about his training to be a firefighter and had made no secret of her feelings. She’d hated the fact that he’d wanted to be a fireman. But he had no regrets. The only thing that had kept him sane for the first year after their breakup was how much he loved it. He still did, even if it was only as a part of a volunteer department. He could have gone somewhere else with a paid department, but he’d wanted to come back to the one place that was home for him. This way he got to have both the job and still stay in the valley. It was where he belonged.
She was pressed against him and he closed his eyes. He could feel her breasts against his chest, free from constraint inside the soft T-shirt. He turned his head slightly and his lips touched a wisp of hair just behind her ear. A breathy sigh fluttered against his neck and he felt his judgment weakening.
“Ally,” he whispered,
meaning it as a caution, but instead it came out as a plea. Slowly, giving her lots of time to stop him, he slid his hand beneath the baggy T-shirt and grazed his fingers along the soft skin of her ribs until he cupped her breast in the valley between his thumb and forefinger.
He moved his thumb over the tip and found it hard and responsive.
He should stop right now. She’d been through something terrible and she was vulnerable. And nothing had changed between them, had it? And yet he didn’t withdraw. He couldn’t. The memories were too strong, too present. He knew every inch of her body. Three years hadn’t changed that. Her curves were familiar, like coming home. He cupped her breast fully in his hand, measuring the weight, marvelling at the softness, while he turned his head and trailed kisses along her jaw until he met her mouth. It had been too long without her.
Something exploded inside him at the first taste of her. That sense of familiarity, of sensual memory was ten times as strong when they kissed. She met his tongue with hers, stroke for stroke, and she arched her back, pressing her breast more firmly into his palm. The warning that pounded in his brain, the one that said this was a mistake, receded to a dull roar as she made a little sound of satisfaction that rippled through him.
He pushed her deeper into the cushions until they were sprawled over the sofa and her hip was digging in terribly close to his zipper. His mouth skidded off hers, sliding down her neck as he pushed the T-shirt up, up, baring her chest.
She was perfect, perfect and beautiful, just as she’d always been.
As he took the first sweet tip into his mouth a cry escaped her throat and she bucked against him. His erection was damned near painful now as he ran his tongue over her nipple. She gripped his hair, and a quick glance upward showed her head thrown back, eyes closed, lips open. She was completely and utterly his.
