“No.” The response was clipped.
“Oh my goodness, this place is just stunning. Look at the trees. They’re gigantic. And the air is so fresh,” Hope exclaimed. “It’s so beautiful.”
“I love this time of year, too,” he said. “It’s as if nature’s getting herself in order before the real snow arrives. There’s a calm dignity to it.”
Jolie stole a glance at her father. She knew exactly the sentiment he described, but was surprised to hear him try to explain it to Hope. Hope did that to people. They made an extra effort around her because she shone it back tenfold. Suddenly, it meant a lot that her father obviously liked Hope, and was putting himself out to make her feel welcome. And her mother, too, had seemed to form an immediate attachment. Jolie felt proud of Hope. God dammit, it’s the old prospective mate thing again.
She winced at the ease with which she had tricked herself.
“Here you are.” Claude pushed open the stout wooden door of the chunky little cabin, set back from the creek. “Nice and peaceful out here. Your mom thought you’d rather be here than in the compound.”
They stepped directly into a cozy living room. He switched on a lamp, as winter dusk was falling quickly, though the light from the blazing wood stove already illuminated the room as well as blasting out welcome heat. He set the bags down just inside the door.
“Your mother filled the fridge.” He nodded to a door off to the right, which Hope presumed led to the kitchen. “The fire’s been lit all day so you should be warm. This cabin has propane, so the radiators will be warm in the morning, and it heats the shower, too.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s the most gorgeous cabin I’ve ever seen. Just like in the movies.” Hope was in awe.
Jolie stood and watched as Hope spun slowly around, agog at the simple rustic charm of the log cabin. Beamed ceilings and varnished log walls reflected the soft glow of firelight. Thick native rugs adorned the floor and couches. And beautiful watercolor paintings covered the walls. The central fireplace housed a cast iron wood burner that blazed away merrily. It was a picture-perfect log cabin. In fact, Jolie could see how Hope thought it belonged on a movie set.
“I’ll tell your mother you’ll be down in say, thirty minutes? I think Marie may pop over to say hello and have some coffee, too,” her father said.
“Okay, Dad. See you soon.” Jolie closed the door after him to keep the heat in. She turned to see Hope already on her way to investigate the kitchen while Tadpole, a little braver now that he was indoors, began sniffing out all the corners. Jolie smiled and looked around, seeing the cabin through Hope’s eyes. Yes, it was a cozy little home. Two people could be very snug in here. Damn. Stop it.
Angry at her fluffy thoughts, she bent to retrieve Hope’s bags to take them to her room…to her…to where? Jolie hesitated, her brow creased. The bedrooms. She glanced around again. This cabin. She’d stayed here before, hadn’t she? About a year ago, and this cabin was—
Oh my God. This is the love shack!
“Jolie?” Hope came back into the lounge, her exploration complete.
“Why is there only one bedroom?”
CHAPTER TEN
Jolie froze for a split second. Then she thawed with a big, stupid blink. Shit. Mom and Dad think we’re a couple.
Panic and embarrassment washed over her in huge waves of icy water. She felt exposed. Her fantasy had been exposed and was now held up for her own private ridicule. She was a fool and a failure and… and upset. Incredibly upset, but she couldn’t understand why. It was just a mistake, just a misunderstanding. Hope must never find out about this mess. It would embarrass her terribly.
“Because,” she managed to croak through a tightening throat, “because…” She spun her silver ring as she cast around fretfully looking for rescue. She noticed the couch. “Because that is a bed settee,” she said, pointing at it with great aplomb.
Relief flooded her. It was indeed a bed settee; she had slept on the lumpy bed of nails only last Christmas. Always the single adult, Jolie often found herself shoehorned into the weirdest corners when space became cramped during the busy holiday seasons.
“Oh? Is it comfortable?” Hope moved toward the couch.
“You’re having the bedroom. The couch is for me,” Jolie declared sternly. There was no way Hope was going to sleep on that sack of rats.
“Okay. If you’re sure, but I really don’t mind.”
“I mind. I love that couch.” Her words came out more clipped that she intended.
“Okay. It’s all yours, then.” Hope held her hands up in surrender.
She looked confused. “I wasn’t aware we were competing for the precious couch.”
“Good. Because it’s mine.”
Jolie brushed past her, carrying Hope’s luggage into her newly allocated bedroom. Her stomach sank at the conversation she needed to have with her parents, but it had to be made clear. Hope was not, and never would be, her mate.
“Let me help you, Mrs. Gar—Patrice,” Hope said as she followed Jolie’s mom into the kitchen. Claude and Patrice’s home was much bigger and more personalized than the holiday cabin she and Jolie were sharing. Hope loved sneaking little peeks at the photos on display of the twins at various ages, and the paintings on the wall, and the impressive book spines. Art and literature were obviously important to the Garoul family. It was not surprising; Hope had heard Andre talk proudly about the Garoul Press, the family’s core commercial interest for generations.
He saw his own software company as an offshoot of it.
“The cups are in the top cupboard.” Patrice pointed, happily plating a slab of cake she’d evenly sliced up. “Tell me. How did you and Jolie meet? She’s been very secretive about you.”
Hope clattered about collecting cups and spoons. “We met through Andre.”
“Oh.” This news seemed to please Patrice, so Hope elaborated further.
“Yes. I started out with him and he passed me on to Jolie. He said she really needed me…she was ready to go pop.”
“Oh.” Patrice sounded a little less confident. Hope sensed her concern.
“Don’t worry. I figured Jolie out real quick. The trick with her is something hot and sweet first thing in the morning. Preferably on her desk.”
Patrice’s mouth worked but nothing came out so Hope continued, “I’ve warned her over and over, one day her sticky fingers will mess up important paperwork, but she never listens. Shall I take in the coffeepot?”
“Yes. Yes, please,” Patrice murmured.
“Hope, this is my sister, Marie. Jolie’s aunt. She’s dropped by for coffee.” Claude introduced her to another tall, attractive woman.
It amused Hope that a family resemblance could be so strong through both the males and females. The Garouls were really just slight variations on a theme. Their spouses differed a lot, but the Garoul gene seemed to thunder through the bloodline, producing more tall, dark, and handsomes than a fortuneteller’s tent.
“Hello.” Hope shyly shook Marie’s hand, impressed with the understated authority but friendly warmth exuding from the woman. Jolie had explained on the way down that Marie was a retired physician and president of Garoul Press and held a controlling interest in Ambereye.
Although retired from the day-to-day running of the publishing house, she was still active in a boardroom capacity until her eldest daughter, Leone, eventually took over.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Hope. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay with us.”
“I’m enjoying it already.”
Over coffee and cake, the conversation remained rooted firmly in the valley and its familial history. Hope was fascinated with the pure romanticism of it and had a hundred and one questions Marie and Claude were only too happy to elaborate on.
Jolie watched from her armchair, mystified at the ease with which Hope relaxed into her family. It was a seamless transition from a city desk to her parents’ couch.
She examined Hope closely: the ready, contagious
smile, expressive hands mapping out her thoughts and ideas in the air around her. The light laughter, the bone-deep happiness. Hope was sunshine; she was fresh and wholesome. Joie de vivre shone out of every pore.
Was it because her brush with cancer made her appreciate life more? Or had she always been an infectiously upbeat person? Jolie found herself wishing she’d known Hope from before. Seven years they had shared the same office roof, and Jolie had never once noticed her. Now she was glued to her every movement. The irony wasn’t lost on her. I’ll have to tell Mom and Dad soon that she’s not my partner.
She glanced up and her dad winked at her approvingly, a big smile on his face as he guffawed at some comment Hope had made. It was going to be an excruciating conversation. How the hell did it get this mixed up? She sighed, conceding it must have been something her parents had subconsciously wanted for her; otherwise, why jump to such a mistaken assumption? Now she was going to disappoint them hugely.
She excused herself and went outside for some air. A resurgence of her old teenage angst was beginning to suffocate her. Annoyed at her own ridiculousness, she sat on the porch step and rested her chin on her knees.
“I like your girl.”
Her father’s big boots appeared beside her. She looked up; he towered above her.
“She’s not my girl,” she said. “She’s my PA.”
There was a pause and then the boards creaked as her father lowered himself to sit beside her.
“There’s been a mistake,” she continued unhappily.
“Oh. I wondered.”
“Wondered what? How someone like me could be with someone like her? She’s gorgeous and I’m a freak…even by our standards.”
“That’s not what I meant at all. And stop pouring that self-pitying crap in my ear. Why, she’s just been telling everyone in there about my daughter the hero, who threw herself in front of a monster truck to save her dog.”
Jolie snorted. “It was hardly heroics. And the damn dog looks like roadkill anyway.”
“Well, it told me a lot.”
“A lot of what?”
“A lot of something. Like the way she waited till you were out of the room to tell us. And the look on her face as she spoke. She’s proud of you, hon. It meant a lot to her. But she’s shy, too. Maybe ‘careful’ is the better word. Yeah, careful.”
“She was proud? Of me? Are you sure?” Jolie frowned, mulling it over suspiciously.
“She was proud, all right. My whiskers were quiverin’.” She grinned at his old werewolf super-senses joke. He swore he could detect the truth through his whiskers. It had reeled so many confessions out of her and Andre over the years that it had become part of their family lore.
“Why is she being careful?”
He shrugged. “I’m thinking this is new for her, too, and she’s gotta get used to it. Seeing you differently, I mean. You’re her boss, and now you’re something else, a sort of out-of-office hero-type thing…”
“And you’re not disappointed? I mean, I never once said we were together.”
“It’s okay. You’d never disappoint me. Never have, never will.”
His hefty arm wrapped around her shoulders in a tight hug. They sat quietly for a few minutes, content to listen to the breeze in the trees, lifting a myriad of scents from its feathered caress.
“You know, you’re kind of halfway there with that girl. I think you should consider changing the nature of your relationship.” His deep voice rumbled through the silence.
“I don’t think that’s on Hope’s agenda, Dad.”
“You’re the boss. I thought you drew up the agendas.” With a slap on her shoulder, he stood. “Come on. It’s getting late. Dinner’s tomorrow at four and we have to meet at Marie’s early.”
“How many will be there?”
“About fifteen. The board members and their families. I like this idea of gathering in the valley for Thanksgiving and then getting all the meetings out of the way real quick.”
Jolie knew her father hated going back to the city for any reason, and tried his best to avoid it. She wholeheartedly agreed with him on that. Why suffer the city when you could have Little Dip as the center of your world?
“Dad. Will you…will you tell Mom about the mix-up? And Marie, if that’s why she came over. I just—” She broke off, choking on her misery.
“You leave everything to your pa. Okay?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Jolie?” Hope was trailing a couple of yards behind when she called out.
“Yes? You okay?”
“Mmm. Not really. I’m having trouble with this flashlight. I can’t make out the path well enough, so my balance is all out of whack.”
“Here.” Jolie was by her side in less than two strides. “Put your arm around my waist and I’ll guide us.” She placed her own arm around Hope’s shoulders and pulled her in protectively.
“Can I go the other side, so my bad eye is closer to you?” Hope shifted across and snuggled in again. She felt a lot more confident.
Jolie’s whole body heated her, and minuscule quivers of delight ran like quickfire through to her bones. Hope wrapped her arm tightly around Jolie’s waist. It felt heavenly, they fit together so well.
“You’ve got no flashlight, so how come you can see where we’re going? You must have fantastic night vision,” she said to distract herself from her giddy thoughts more than anything.
“I’ve been up and down this track a million times.” Jolie shrugged.
“I enjoyed this evening. Your parents are lovely. And your aunt Marie is amazing to talk to, especially about First Nation medicine. I actually have one of her herbal books. It was as a present from Andre when I was first diagnosed.”
Jolie thought this over. “You and Andre are great friends, aren’t you?”
Despite the rational question, Jolie felt a pang of jealousy deep in the pit of her stomach. Hope nodded, her cheek scraping against Jolie’s coat where it covered the side of her breast. Jolie’s temperature soared another hundred degrees and she had to force herself to concentrate on the conversation.
“So why have I never met you before?”
“You have, countless times, at work, in meetings, even at parties.”
“Parties?”
Hope laughed. “Well, no one can say you’re easily impressed. We even spoke once at a Christmas do at Andre and Godfrey’s, about two years ago.”
“We did?”
“Yes. Not for long, though. I think you assumed I was just another of the boys’ fag hags—”
“I’d never have thought that.”
“It’s no big deal. Two gorgeous gay men like that have lots of straight female friends.”
“And you’re not?” Jolie swallowed around the question, so it came out sounding thick and strangled.
“A fag hag?”
“No. I mean…” Jolie was flummoxed. How do you do this?
“Straight?” Hope carried the conversation effortlessly. “No, I’m not straight.”
“Oh.” Jolie gave an involuntary sign of relief.
Hope smiled. “And you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. Seeing as how you’re asking, I thought I’d ask, too.”
Jolie’s face scorched. For the first time in her life she blessed the lack of moonlight. “I’m the same as you.”
“That’s nice,” Hope said. The trail suddenly widened and the front porch of their cabin opened up before them.
“Look. We’re home.” Hope sounded very happy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jolie squirmed and thumped and shuffled, but nothing made the damn couch any more comfortable. It was past three o’clock in the morning, and she was getting madder by the minute, which was not the best cure for insomnia. The valley played this trick on her often.
If she had been alone, or with other Garouls, she would have changed to wolven form and prowled the forest, howling and hunting. It didn’t seem appropriate to sneak away somehow, with Hop
e sleeping so close. Plus she knew she would only be running from her thoughts and unsettling feelings, rather than trying to work through them and purge her overstimulated system.
Glaring at the wood beams, she tried to organize those thoughts.
She already knew what was troubling her—Hope Glassy. Tucked up safe and sound in the bedroom, just one thin wall away. Jolie ran her father’s earlier conversation around in her head for the umpteenth time and tried to pick out the bits that caused her the most consternation.
Well, all of it, really.
Carefully, she broke it down. She was upset at feeling stupid that everyone thought Hope was her partner. She was upset because she was secretly pleased everyone thought Hope was her partner. She was upset because she had to admit to herself that someone like Hope would never be her partner, despite what her dad thought. She was upset at the situation no matter which way she looked at it. She didn’t understand how her life had become such a morass of contradictory emotions.
In the middle of all this morose deep thinking, exhaustion finally tricked her into a fitful sleep.
Hope was in bed with her. Naked and ripe. So deliciously luscious, all softness and curves. Jolie wanted to bite her…
She lay on top of the gorgeous, yielding body and buried her face between sweetly scented breasts, licking and nipping every inch of the succulent flesh. Pinned under her weight, Hope slowly opened her thighs for her, and Jolie was accepted into the most beautiful place on earth. Her belly brushed against Hope’s. She so wanted to bite her. Hope spread herself wider, and Jolie sank deeper, nestled against Hope’s dark sex. Jolie growled with lust. She was going to bite her. Her scent was everywhere. Her scent belonged to Jolie…
Hope and Tadpole awoke almost simultaneously. Hope shot bolt upright in bed, Tadpole’s good ear mimicked her by sticking straight up in the air. Both swapped a look of alarm.
“Do you hear that growling, Taddy?” she whispered. In answer he slunk under the bed. Ignoring him, Hope concentrated on the silence that now cocooned her, causing her to doubt her own ears.
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