by Zoe York
He stood at the top of the steps, taking up far too much space for her comfort. He was larger than life and getting bigger by the second, it felt like, filling up her world. He wore a plaid shirt loose over a t-shirt that stretched tight over his chest, dark jeans and work boots. He looked big and burly, and her arms ached to wrap around him. A part of her fantasized that he felt the same way, because his thumbs were looped into his pockets and his hands clenched in fists. Don’t hold back, she wished she could say, but that would be heading in completely the wrong direction. So she pressed her lips together instead. Silence being golden and all that.
“I owe you an apology,” he started to say, his shoulders hitching up a little more with each word. “I didn’t have a great hold on my emotions last week.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t want to make excuses. There’s no justification for yelling at you. I’m sorry.”
He stepped a bit closer and pulled something from his back pocket. “I wrote you a note saying as much. I was going to leave it for you. I didn’t know you would be here.”
“Oh.” Of course not. He wasn’t here to see her. She straightened her back and held her head high as she glided across the porch. Holly Cresinksi couldn’t handle this, but Hope Creswell could. She pasted on a smile. “That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”
He frowned at her. “Of course it was necessary.” He extended his arm, holding out a neatly folded piece of white paper. “Here.”
She glanced at it, but didn’t take it. “I appreciate the apology. Really. We can just move on.”
“Holly…” He dropped his hand and moved closer, into her personal space. She could feel the faint warmth of his body and see his jaw clenching and moving. She dropped her gaze from his face, but he filled all of her senses anyway. His now familiar scent, the rough rub of his sounds as he cleared his throat and sighed. And even though they weren’t touching, she could feel his solid strength beneath her palms.
She pressed her hands to her thighs, pulling herself in tight, trying to hold herself together so he wouldn’t know how close she was to falling apart.
“There’s more,” he said roughly. “Maybe I should just read it to you.”
At the whisper of paper unfolding, she snapped her head up and reached out without thinking, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “Don’t.”
Beneath her fingertips, his pulse thumped under warm skin. Ever so slowly, he relaxed his grip on the note, and it fluttered to the ground. He repeated her name, his voice more strained and she looked up, meeting his gaze.
The heat she found there was enough to melt her frosty exterior ten times over. Enough to burn her to a crisp at the same time. It matched the restless ache she’d carried inside her for a week now. “Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.
“I can’t.” He swayed toward her, and it took all of her will power to look away. “I missed you this weekend.”
“You pushed me away.”
“I know.”
“Nothing has changed.”
“I’ve changed a little. Enough to know I don’t want to push you away again.” As he spoke, his words spilling naked between them, he brought his face almost to her cheek. So close. So far. Still in the safe zone.
“There are still things you don’t know about me.” Her voice cracked as she said it and he groaned, pressing his face into her hair. “And things I’m going to ask you…”
“We’ll talk.”
It didn’t feel like they were going to talk. She couldn’t think straight and he smelled so good, felt so warm, and her mouth watered to know how he tasted.
Come inside. “How much time do you have now?”
“Not enough for talking.”
“We shouldn’t do anything else…” She trailed off as he ghosted his lips over her temple, unable to stifle a weak moan, and she tightened her grip on his wrist that she still held between them.
“I know that, too,” he muttered, slowly twisting his arm inside the circle of her fingers. He pressed their palms together as he shifted her backwards, pressing her against the wall of the house. As he loomed over her, her world narrowed to the two square feet they occupied together and the unsettling electricity sizzling between them. When he pressed one of her hands by her head, holding her in place, she gasped—then he stroked his other hand along her jaw, cupping the back of her neck, and her brain short-circuited. “But then you touch me, and I can’t remember why this is a bad idea.”
“Because it was only a good idea as long as it was an escape from reality,” she breathed, trying hard not to press onto her tiptoes and close the gap between their faces.
“This feels pretty damn real,” he ground out. “And I’m not running.”
“You will.”
“Maybe. Or it might be you. As long as we both know…” He swore under his breath and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her next noise and the one after that.
— —
Ryan hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d planned on not even seeing her, but his cowardly plan had backfired—thankfully—and as soon as he saw her leaning against the rail, looking over the lake, his course had been set. When that polite mask had dropped over her face, something inside him had pranged—he’d hurt her, and he needed to show her how wrong that was. Show her how much he valued her. When she grabbed his wrist, the mask dropping away, his primal instincts took over.
He’d pinned her against the wall, going from zero to sixty because this was a kiss that had been days in the making. That he thought would never happen.
She was right. They should talk.
But right now her tongue was stroking against his and she’d slid her hand into his hair. Thinking and talking were for some other guy, or some other time.
She tasted like warm lemons and her skin was dewy and soft. And she made the most amazing noises, like it had been a while since she’d been kissed, too, which made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.
He brought her palm to his chest, because oh God he wanted to feel her touch, but she did him one better. She stroked her fingers down his torso and around his waist, blazing an electric path he felt through his t-shirt.
He kissed along her jaw, to her ear, exploring all the spots that made her sigh and squeeze him tighter. Down her neck, breathing in her sweetness. Tasting it.
When she gripped his hips, sliding their pelvises together, he let her rock against him before sliding away with a rueful laugh.
“Not pulling away, just slowing down,” he said roughly as he licked his way back to her ear. “Or I’ll lose what little control I have left.”
“You’ve still got some control?” She sagged back against the house as he braced his hands on either side of her. It was impossible to miss her chest, heaving between them, and those beautiful breasts. His dick thumped at the thought of how good her nipples would feel in his mouth.
“Hanging by a thread.” He kissed her forehead, and she looked up at him. “This isn’t why I came here,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said, kissing his jaw with featherlight brushes of her lips. “I’m okay with that. Sometimes the best things happen by accident.”
“I need to get the kids in fifteen minutes. We should continue this later.”
“We’re filming late tonight, that’s why I’m here now. Break time.”
“Oh. How late?” She laughed and he nipped at her lower lip. “Okay, I won’t push my luck.”
“I’ll be exhausted when we get back. Wouldn’t be good company in the least.”
“I doubt that, but I get it.” He groaned as he thought about his own calendar. “And I work tomorrow night.”
She cupped his face and rubbed her nose against his before dropping a breathless little kiss on his lips. “Soon. And until then…”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I really am sorry about last week.”
“Me, too.”
He kissed her again, tasting her lips and teasing her tongue as she ope
ned for him again.
“Okay, I really need to have a nap,” she said, shoving him away with absolutely no conviction after a few more kisses. She smiled, pressing her lips together in a secret kind of way, and he held her gaze for as many heartbeats as he could handle before it felt weird and sappy.
“Would it be too forward to ask for your number?”
She laughed, leaning into him. “God, no. But it’s an L.A. number, so maybe email, too? And we can text. Do you have a smart phone?”
“Yes, the country boy has an iPhone.” Not that he used it that often, and his email hadn’t been syncing regularly…but he’d fix that for her. He pulled it out of his back pocket and they exchanged email addresses and phone numbers.
“Hey.” She squeezed his hand, making him look at her after he finished typing in her details. “I like the country boy. A lot.”
“Good. He likes you, too.”
He gave her one last, quick kiss before reluctantly leaving. When he did, though, his steps were light and easy.
— —
That night, Holly could feel her character humming through her veins, and when the cameras started rolling, she nailed it on the first take.
Unfortunately, Joshua was a freaking robot opposite her, so James growled for the room to be reset. People scurried around them, righting a lamp that Joshua knocked over, fixing her collar where she’d worried at her shirt, reapplying her nibbled lip gloss. No little detail was left untouched—even the carpet was vacuumed after she wheeled across it in the wrong direction.
Holly didn’t pay the stage hands any attention. She’d slipped into the zone, and all that mattered was channeling the character and telling the story.
Too bad her co-star wasn’t in the same zone. It could have been an early night.
Twelve takes later, she was blissfully excused after nailing her close-ups in a single round of short takes.
Leaving Joshua with James’s bluster, she scurried to her trailer, where she found Parvati talking to Olivia.
“You done already?” Parvati asked her, and she slowed to a stop, joining them.
“Done for now. We’ll see if he calls for me again.”
“Want a glass of wine?” Parvati tipped her head toward her own trailer.
She almost said no, but actually… “You know what? Yes, I would. Half a glass, in case I get summoned by your husband. And white, so it won’t stain my lips.” Parvarti’s lips twitched at the list of demands and Holly sighed. “I know, I’m sorry I’m such a diva. Olivia, do you want to join us?”
The local staffer smiled. “If you’ve got water, sure. I’m pregnant, so no wine for me. And neither of you are the least bit diva-esque, I gotta say.”
“Seriously?” Holly looked her up and down. “I would’ve never known. You look fantastic.”
“It’s still early-ish. I’m sure by the time you guys leave I’ll have popped right out and started waddling.”
Holly felt a pang of…something softer than jealousy, but in that vein. She’d never gotten close to having the type of relationship one would bring a child into, having been trained from an early age to be distrustful of the dangers of motherhood. No better birth control than being raised by a woman who found children icky.
“I’m totally jealous,” Parvati said, admitting what Holly couldn’t. “James wants to wait until after I’ve elevated my career to the next level. And I’m terrified about losing my body.” She made a face. “Now I’m the one who sounds like a diva.”
“Really, I get that!” Olivia laughed. “I don’t think there’s anything either of you could say that would make me think you’re drama queens or anything like that.”
Holly slung her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “Oh, come, let’s tell you stories.”
They ushered her into Parvati’s trailer, leaving the door open so they could hear if either of them were called to the set.
“There’s so much drama on a film set, isn’t there?” Parvati giggled and shook her head. “Poor Olivia, seeing the worst of people.”
“Oh, we’ve got our fair share of drama here, too. It’s just human nature.”
“Really?” Holly shook her head. “Pine Harbour seems like the nicest town.”
“We’re putting our best foot forward because this film shoot is one of the best things to happen here. But we’ve had tragedy and scandal and conflict that would rival anything in Hollywood.” Olivia shook her head. “But enough about that. I want celebrity gossip, and you guys need wine.”
While Parvati poured, Holly told Olivia who got wasted at the Oscars and who was currently living in a hotel because his wife had changed the locks, but they still appeared happy as a clam together in public.
By the end the night, Holly was giggly and slightly tipsy. The power of girlfriends, she thought as she crawled into bed. She grabbed her phone and sent a quick email to Liana, who was on tour in Australia.
I miss you, sweat pea. Had a nice night with Parvati and one of the production company staffers, but I need my bestie. I’m coming to Nashville for a visit when this film shoot is over.
After she hit send, she started another message. This one took her longer to write, because she wanted to get it just right.
Tucking into bed after a long day of work. Thinking of you.
Ryan’s response came in the middle of the night, and as soon as the phone vibrated, she had it in front of her face. Best thing I’ve heard all day. And now I’m thinking of you. R.
So dangerous, she thought. How this man made her feel…and what he made her think, deep in the recesses of her mind. Fantastical things she never imagined would be possible for her. Ordinary, wonderful things she didn’t dare speak, lest they not come true.
— NINE —
ON Thursday, Ryan dropped Maya at preschool and drove thirty minutes south to Wiarton to buy condoms.
Just in case.
He had no clue where he might have sex with Holly, or when, but he needed to be prepared, because he was pretty sure their first kiss would have counted as foreplay.
Blushing like a teenager, he handed the box to the cashier who couldn’t care less, paid, and hustled back to his truck, paranoid that someone he knew might see him. Then he went grocery shopping, because outside his fantasy sex life, he still had three growing kids to feed.
Back in Pine Harbour, he dropped the groceries at his house, then decided to head into town and get lunch at Mac’s. He found Rafe and Olivia Minelli having an early lunch at a booth.
“Rare day off together?” he asked as he approached.
Olivia waved a black and white picture in the air. “We had our first baby ultrasound this morning.” She handed it over, and as he made the appropriate cute alien you’ve got there noises, she got out of the booth and pointed to her seat. “Here, you should join Rafe. I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt…” he started, but she waved off the protest.
“Really, I was eating and running anyway. There’s always a long to-do list when I get back on set.”
“What exactly are you doing? I’ve talked to some of the people staying at the cottages—“ One person, but they didn’t need to know that “—and it seems really…involved. Complicated.”
Olivia nodded. “It’s busy, for sure. I do whatever needs to be done.”
Ryan laughed. “You sound like Holly. She talks about work a fair bit and I swear, I still have no clue what she does.”
“Holly?” Olivia frowned. “Wait, Ryan Howard, are you seeing someone?”
“What?” Grateful that grumpy came so naturally to him, he frowned at her. “No. Why?”
“Who’s Holly?” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.
“One of the movie set people. Don’t make me say something rude about pregnancy hormones and memory.” Ryan could hear himself talking, even as he tried to shut the hell up. But ever since that kiss, Holly was all he could think about. Still, he couldn’t believe he’d just inanely mana
ged to jam her into a conversation, and now he was stumbling in any direction he could think of that would change the subject. He rubbed his jaw—not really effective, but it was all he had.
“Okay, well, we’ll ignore that crack because you’ve got three kids and even though I’m only a few months into gestating my first, I’m pretty sure they sap brain cells at a crazy rate. Actually, I’d been meaning to tell you, everyone is thrilled with the cottages. But Hope’s assistant mentioned that the front step of the Fenichs’ house is loose. Do you think you could check it out?”
It hadn’t seemed loose when I climbed those steps a few days ago, he thought, but he nodded. “Sure thing.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed his arm, then stepped past him and kissed her husband goodbye. Her fingers lingering on Rafe’s shoulder. He’d been shot in the same incident Lynn had died. Olivia’s voice softened, the all-business approach dropping for a second. “Shouldn’t be late tonight, but go to sleep if you’re tired.”
“I’ll wait up for you.”
Ryan slid into the booth as Rafe watched Liv head out the door.
“She still worries about me. I’ve been back at work for almost two months, and she stresses every time I’m about to go on a run of shifts.” A provincial police officer, Rafe worked shifts, alternating three or four days or nights in a row.
“You going on days tomorrow?”
“Yeah, so I’ll be up and gone before she wakes up. She was getting up with me, but the morning sickness is kicking her ass. You’d never know it, though. She’s a rock star.”
“Lynn was like that, too—strongest when she was pregnant. Super Woman, that’s what I always called her.” A familiar ache pulsed in Ryan’s chest, the edge of it sharper than usual because of how his thoughts had just been distracted by Holly.
“You okay?” Rafe made a face. “Or some variation of that question that’s more sensitive?”
“I’m good.” Ryan grabbed the menu from behind the napkin holder. “Probably just hungry.”
