I still locked the bathroom door. And pushed the trashcan in front of it.
What? It was all I had to work with.
At the very least, it would fall over if he made it through the lock and pushed open the door. It was an alarm system for beggars.
I turned the water inside the glass-enclosed shower to hot. Steam began to fill the bathroom almost immediately as I looked in the mirror. I jerked as though I’d been slapped. By my own reflection. I did not look good.
Circles beneath my eyes, tangled, limp hair, and blotchy skin. My lips were pale, something that was seemingly alarming, and the sweats seemed to hang off me more than they had just two days ago.
After stripping off the clothes, I stared at them in my hands. I would love nothing more than to toss them in the trash and never see them again. I couldn’t. I only had these and what was in that bag. If I hadn’t been so paranoid to pack a “getaway” bag, I wouldn’t even have that.
For the first time ever, my paranoia didn’t seem so silly.
Setting aside the clothes on the long counter, I filled my hands with the small freebies that hotels stocked in their suites—shampoo, conditioner, soap—and climbed beneath the spray.
A long sigh expelled from my lungs the second the hot water rained over my head. I stood there nearly melting for long, blissful moments. I could almost feel some of the worst of the last couple days dripping off me and circling down the drain.
A few tears leaked out, mingling with the water on my face.
After a while, I grabbed the shampoo. It took half the tiny bottle just to wash my hair. Probably a sign I should cut it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though.
I love your hair. The voice from the past floated through my head, matching the one I’d heard tonight.
Pushing away the thought, I focused on washing and enjoying the hot water. I knew I needed to form some kind of plan, but honestly, I was too tired to even think of it. All I wanted was some sleep.
And to feel safe.
You might never be safe again. Sticking my face beneath the spray, I tried to drown the thought.
I lingered too long in the shower. I was hiding, but I didn’t care. I still couldn’t believe Liam was here and in the next room. I thought I’d never see him again. And once I did, I certainly didn’t expect the reaction I got.
Almost as if he was glad to see me. Like he cared.
Don’t let him hurt you again. I reminded myself. You have enough to deal with.
Using a spare towel, I wiped the fog off the mirror. There was some lotion on the counter, so I smoothed some on over my arms and legs, then gently patted it into my face. My bag was on the closed toilet seat. The clothes and things had been in there for so long I barely remembered what was inside.
Except for the envelope. That I remembered with vivid clarity. It was still the exact same as the day my father shoved it into my bag.
I hadn’t touched it since.
I’d never taken so much as a single bill out of the fat wad of cash inside.
I’d never planned on it.
But I didn’t have a choice now.
It’s sort of like he’s watching over you now, even though he’s gone. It was a beautiful thought, wasn’t it? The notion of a daughter who wanted to be a daddy’s girl.
The cold truth was I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him.
I’d be back in my old life, with the job I loved, a relationship with my mother, and using the name I was born with.
Nudging aside the envelope, I went through what was there. A few pair of panties, a bra, a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and a sweater. There was also a brush, some Chap-stick, and a few feminine products. Ooh! And some deodorant. I never thought I’d be excited about that.
It was strange how having everything taken away, twice, had such an effect. Small things people took for granted every single day became big things to me.
I grabbed the brush and worked it through the entire length of my hair. It took forever because I hadn’t done this in two days and because my hair reached the middle of my back. Once finished, I smoothed on some lip balm, the deodorant, and then looked at the T-shirt and jeans. My stare strayed to a white, fluffy robe hanging nearby. Once the undergarments were on, I slid the robe into place, belting it tightly.
When I opened the bathroom door, the scent of fries hit me in the face. My stomach growled loudly, and a wave of lightheadedness came over me.
Pushing it aside, I padded self-consciously out into the bedroom. Liam was standing at the window, hands behind his back, gazing out across whatever view was there.
The room service tray was on a table near the window, silver dome lids covering the plates. I had to walk past the sofa, coffee table, and bed to get to it.
Hopping from foot to foot, I stared at his back and hugged my bag.
“Food’s gonna get cold,” he said, not even turning around.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m better now. Really.”
He made a sound and pointed at the chair near the food.
He was not this bossy eight years ago.
How rude.
I told myself the reason I wasn’t telling him where he could go with his bossy self was because of the ordeal I’d just been through, and arguing any further would just zap what little energy remained.
I was lying to myself again.
It was a horrible habit.
In a small act of defiance, I went to the table and sat in the chair beside the one he’d told me to sit in.
He laughed.
The sound brushed over me like a caress, and goose bumps rose along my arms. Why did he still affect me this way?
Liam turned from the window, taking me in with one sweeping glance. Then, deftly, he pulled the covers off two plates, one with a burger and one full of fries.
I sighed appreciatively.
“Hot chocolate is in the pot.” He pointed at a small, white ceramic-looking kettle and a white mug.
I snatched a fry and groaned when the salty, fried goodness exploded over my tongue. Liam dropped into the chair across from me, his eyes heavy-lidded, his face neutral.
“This your first time back since…” his voice trailed away.
I paused in eating. “Since that time you had sex with me and then disappeared?”
He made a choking sound.
“I wasn’t going to put it like that,” he murmured, glib.
“The night you loved me and left me? The night you promised me something, then took off in the night?”
His mouth turned down.
“I didn’t.”
I laughed. It was a bitter sound. “It doesn’t even matter.” I started to get up.
He moved so swift I didn’t even see him at first. Not until his palm spread out on my shoulder and gently pushed me back into the seat.
“I’m sorry. I—” He rubbed a palm over his face and sighed. “Just eat, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I leaned back, drained. Liam pushed the burger toward me. After a moment, I lifted it off the plate and took a bite. Then another.
Amused, Liam watched. “Good?”
I squinted one eye and tilted my head. “Good.” Then I took another bite. Still chewing, I mused, “Would be better if they used ground steak and switched out the bun for something just a little softer on the inside.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “What are you, a chef?”
“Used to be,” I said, setting down the burger. An air of sadness washed over me. “Sorry. Sometimes I slip into a foodie without realizing it.”
He smiled. “A foodie?”
I nodded and picked up a fry. “It’s all very good. I really appreciate you ordering it for me.” Thinking about that, I jumped up. “I’ll pay you back.” I went for the duffle, but Liam caught me around the waist and towed me back.
I sucked in a breath when my body was pulled against his. For one brief moment, I relaxed into him. He smelled nice, sort of like pine… and snow.
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“I’m not worried about your money,” he rumbled near my ear. I swear I felt his thumb caress the side of my hip.
“Then it won’t be a big deal when I pay you back for tonight.”
He sighed heavily. The action blew his breath against my cheek. My eyes slipped closed for a second.
“Back to your seat,” he said, giving me a gentle push.
I ate a few more fries, then paused while reaching for the cocoa. “Would you like some?”
Holy moly, was I raised in a barn? My mother would die if she knew I’d sat here this whole time in a robe, eating in front of him.
He smiled. “I already ate.”
Then why do his eyes look so hungry?
After pouring some of the rich liquid in the mug, I wrapped my hands around it and tucked my legs under me, making sure the robe covered all my important parts.
Liam’s eyes never left me. He was like a wolf in a cage, calmly watching his prey, as if he would know the exact moment to strike.
I thought he’d been intense at seventeen… It was nothing compared to the way he was now.
“So you, um, run BearPaw now?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the way he stared. From the way he made my insides jump around.
“Something like that.”
“I thought you were a big-shot snowboarder, winning medals and sponsorships.”
I knew my mistake instantly.
A huge smile spread across his face, sort of the way the rising sun stretched across a rainy day. “You’ve been checking up on me.”
I wanted to smack myself in the head. Internally, I groaned. Of all the things to make conversation about, I had to go and bring up my stalker ways?
Smooth, Bellamy. Real smooth.
I lifted my chin. “I saw an article a few years ago.”
His eyes glimmered as if he knew better. I thought he might poke fun at me, but he didn’t. “I got hurt about a year ago. Ended my pro career.”
I gasped and sat forward. Hot cocoa splashed over the rim of the cup and splattered the pristine white robe.
“Crap!” I exclaimed and jumped up. That only resulted in more cocoa spilling on me. Muttering a few expletives, I set down the mug, held out my hands, and stared down at myself. “I can’t believe I just did that!”
Liam’s deep, warm chuckle filled the room. I glanced up, forgetting all about the robe.
“I should try and clean this up.” I went from the room, grabbed a spare cloth, and started to soak up what I could.
In the end, I looked like a walking disaster. Which was exactly what I was.
Defeated, I trudged out into the room. I felt like crying. “This was as good as I could get it. I’ll pay for the replacement.”
“Housekeeping will get that out, no problem. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He didn’t seem concerned.
I glanced down at myself and frowned. “So much for wearing something comfortable,” I muttered.
“What?”
I glanced up. “Nothing,”
“Don’t you have some extra clothes in that bag?” he asked, quizzical.
“Yeah,” I said, picking it up. “I’ll just sleep in the T-shirt and wear the sweater tomorrow.”
“You only have two shirts?”
“I was in a hurry when I left,” I mumbled, embarrassed. Clearing my throat, I said, “I’ll just go into town tomorrow and get a few things.”
Liam pushed out of the chair, rising to his full height. He had to be over six feet tall the way he towered over me. He reached over his shoulders, tugging off the BearPaw sweatshirt he was wearing.
I slapped my hands over my eyes. “What are you doing?”
He laughed. “I have a shirt on under this.”
I lowered my hands just in time to see him pull that off, too!
I gasped again, but this time I didn’t cover my eyes. I couldn’t. He was too damn good-looking. There was no stopping the way my stare glued to his bare torso and arms. He was cut. Actually, I think the proper term for Liam’s upper body was shredded.
His arms rippled with definition, and the way he moved… My mouth ran dry.
I gaped, not even able to hide it.
The laughter died away, the humor in his face fading. I was rooted in place as he prowled closer, his glorious freaking chest on full display.
I swallowed numbly, unable to speak.
“Here,” he said, his voice like sandpaper.
The kind of sandpaper that could buff me smooth.
When I didn’t do anything, the corners of his mouth kicked up and he shook what he was holding in front of me.
“Bells.”
I blinked. Glancing down, I saw him holding out his T-shirt. “What?”
“You can wear this to sleep in tonight.”
“That’s yours.” It was a stupid thing to say. Of course it was his.
But I mean, it was just on his body.
“I’m letting you borrow it.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He made a frustrated sound and pushed it into my arms. “Take it. Go change.”
My eyes went back to his chest, lingering. He didn’t try to cover up or back away. He stood there under the weight of my eyes and let me stare.
After who knows how long, I snapped out of it and ran into the bathroom as if my robe were on fire.
It wasn’t.
But my insides sure as hell were.
Liam
Hell’s bells.
This woman still had the ability to climb under my skin and shake me up unlike anyone ever had. Over the years, I told myself it was a fluke. A teenage thing. Hormones. That’s why it never happened again.
I was twenty-six now.
It was happening right now. And it was Bells who stood in front of me.
Fuuuck.
I’d learned something since sitting in this room with her. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I never knew what that meant. Actually, I thought it was a stupid saying people liked to spout to make themselves sound wise and shit.
I had no interest in sounding wise, but now I understood.
We were both so different. I could tell by the haunted look in her eyes. The way she practically vibrated with the desire to run. The way she stayed.
As a teenager, Bellamy was trouble.
As an adult, Bellamy was in trouble.
It had to be bad for her to come here. She was still bitter and pissed off about eight years ago. Something I actually was baffled by. I couldn’t push the issue, not right now anyway. If I did, she’d bolt.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Where was her dad? Her mom? Why was she alone, starving, and with one measly bag of shit to her name?
Timid movement across the room drew my eye. I saw her hesitating in the bathroom door, almost as if she were dancing around, not wanting to come out.
“Get out here,” I said. “Your food is getting cold.”
She made a little sound, and I smiled. It was short-lived, however, because she stepped out wearing my T-shirt.
It was like someone killed me, then restarted my heart.
My hands slapped down on the arms of the chair and squeezed.
Holy shit. Desire and need slammed into me so hard and fast black spots swam before my eyes. I’d never wanted anyone or anything as bad as I did in that moment.
She came out, nearly tiptoeing, her bare feet soundless on the carpet. I watched her tug at it as if it weren’t modest enough. But it was. It hung nearly to her knees. The neckline was a little big and exposed the delicate arch of her neck and the creaminess of her collarbones.
She’d pulled up her damp hair, tying it in some kind of knot on her head.
She was thinner than I remembered, but I didn’t care. My God, she was fucking beautiful.
If I’d been standing, possessiveness would have brought me to my knees. It was sharp and heavy. I honestly wondered if the load didn’t lighten how the fuck I would
bear the weight.
All at once, I got angry. So goddamn angry.
I lurched out of the chair and paced toward her then away.
“What’s his name?” I demanded.
Her soft intake of breath made me close my eyes for a brief second. Cool it.
“Whose name?”
I made a rude sound. “Don’t play stupid with me, Bells. Your husband.” God, just saying that out loud made me want to punch something.
The fact that she was some other man’s—
“Husband?” The bewildered tone in her voice made me pause.
I spun and pinned her with a stare. “You have a new last name. I know you’re married.”
Her mouth formed a little O.
“Is that who you’re running from?” I pushed a hand through my hair. “Did your husband hurt you?”
“I…” Her words faltered.
I made an aggressive sound, and she flinched.
“Shit,” I swore low and went to her.
She took a step back, but I reached for her anyway. I had to. She was standing there swallowed up in the shirt I’d just worn against my skin.
Fuck me, I might as well cream in my jeans.
“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.
I tucked her against my chest, wishing I hadn’t put the sweatshirt back on. Wishing to hold her against my bare body. “I didn’t mean to yell.” I rubbed a hand up her back. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bells. You’re safe here.”
“I’m not safe anywhere,” she replied.
The sound of her voice cracked my heart.
I held her a little tighter. I was shocked when, after a few moments, I felt her arms close around me, hugging me back.
My stomach somersaulted. A surreal feeling washed over me. I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t believe she was here and I was holding her.
After a moment, she rubbed her face against my shirt and inhaled. I smiled.
Bellamy pulled away, and it was the hardest thing ever to let her go. I took comfort in the fact my T-shirt was draped on her body. Like some kind of statement.
As if somehow I was staking my claim.
She tipped her head back and looked at me, wary. “I’m not married.”
“Come again?” My voice was hoarse.
“I’m not married. My name—”
“Have you ever been?”
Avalanche Page 6
