Stay: Changing Tides, Book 1

by Candi Wall

  With nothing else to do, she stuffed the papers in her jacket pocket. “What’s going on?”

  Brack eyed her, his expression wary. “He’s had an invite to the movies. Mind if he ditches us old folks?”

  She hurried over to where they stood and peeked at the text message. Giving Jonathon a thumbs-up, she said, “If you don’t go, I’ll be upset.”

  “You sure?” he signed. “We were supposed to ice fish.”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. Nothing was more important at sixteen than a date with the person you were crazy about. She wasn’t about to rob him of that. “I don’t want you hanging out here because of me. Go have fun!”

  “You sure?” Jonathon prodded again. “I feel bad.”

  Abby wanted nothing more than to relieve his concern. He had an opportunity that he shouldn’t ignore. “Go. We can do this anytime you want.”

  Jonathon’s smile lit up the room but it was nothing compared to the expression his father sent her way. He nodded over his son’s head. “Thanks.”

  Jonathon’s earnest excitement stole over her, and even as her heart tripped at the thought of being alone with his father, her mother’s words once again made perfect sense. You just never know where life is going to take you; all you can do is follow…

  She met Brack’s smile and shivered.

  Life never stayed on a particular track for long. Who would have thought she’d be in the middle of the woods with these two? Who would have thought the youngest Elliot would desert them, leaving them to their own devices, or that the elder Elliot would have shared his past with her? Suddenly, her heart opened to the possibility of the fun and experiences to savor.

  She ignored the vague little voice warning her to guard her heart. She shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as she was. It never lasted. Brack and Jonathon had no idea of the troubles that always followed her. They didn’t need to get close.

  And she didn’t want to leave her heart here.

  But damned if the two men didn’t make it possible to squash the warning thoughts.

  Chapter Seven

  Brack watched through the window as Lynette’s parents pulled out of the driveway. He’d tried not to embarrass his son too much by asking questions, but there was no way he was letting Jonathon go without some knowledge of the parents. “Did I overdo it?”

  Abby chuckled from her seat behind him. “Asking for their license plate number might have been a bit much.”

  Shit. He swiped a hand over his face. “I’ve never let him go anywhere. I had to know something about them.”

  She nodded, her gaze sliding from his face to his chest to the window. “I wasn’t saying you were wrong.” Then he caught the smile she was trying to hide. “It was just—funny.”

  Brack groaned. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass Jonathon. Lynette’s parents had promised to take him home directly after the movie, and he’d slipped Jonathon a fifty before he’d headed out the door. Wouldn’t do to go to the movies at sixteen and have the parents of the girl you liked pay.

  “You think he was embarrassed?”

  “It would have been worse if you’d slipped him a condom.” She smirked. “So I think he’ll manage.”

  He balked at the mention of a condom. He’d been trying to keep thoughts of being alone with her from taking over his mind, and the mention of sexual paraphernalia didn’t help. His stomach clenched. He wanted to spend time with her, hell, he wanted her, period, there was no doubt. But it had been a long time since he’d felt such an intense attraction to a woman.

  And Abby’s effect went beyond physical attraction. He liked to see her laugh. Loved the way she enjoyed life. She made him feel good, and that was something he wasn’t used to. “Sorry you didn’t get to do any ice-fishing tonight. We could still go out there if you’d like.”

  She tucked her feet into the chair and brought her knees up to rest her cheek against them. “I’m perfectly fine right where we are.”

  “You sure?” He wiped at a drop of blood that trickled down his thumb.

  “What happened?” Her gaze was riveted to his hand.

  “Nothing to worry about. Splinter from the firewood.”

  She reached over and pulled his hand close. Her fingers brushed over the small puncture. “Yeah, I guess you’ll live.”

  “You sure?” He flexed his thumb. “Bleeding pretty bad.”

  Her laughter filled the room. “Positive. Men are such babies.”

  “We do it so you women will make a fuss over us. Feels good to have someone worry about you.”

  Her gaze met his. “I do worry about you. You’re much too serious.”

  Silence surrounded them. He couldn’t argue, after all.

  When she released his hand, he sat on the couch next to her chair, unsettled by the excitement her simple touch caused. The crackling fire warmed the room, and he pulled off the second sweater he’d donned earlier. Who was he kidding? Abby had him smoldering in his seat. The urge to reach out and pull her onto the loveseat with him almost won out. Almost.

  He had to keep a level head. Having Abby in his life would create complications. Jonathon liked her. A lot. Brack liked her too. But she was chaos. And neither of them needed that. Did they?

  “I’ve got to tell you,” he found himself saying, “the difference I see in Jonathon is remarkable. He’s become a completely different kid since he’s been home.”

  “He does seem very happy.”

  He leaned forward. “I think a lot of that is because of you.”

  She stared into the flames, her blond hair alive with auburn highlights. “I think he just needed his family. Being here with you, the laughter and the fun, it makes me feel good. I can only imagine what it must do for him. That other school might have given him what he needed academically, but here—” she paused to indicate the cabin, “—here he gets what his soul needs.”

  His soul? He’d never thought about it quite like that. But he’d overlooked a lot that Abby’s presence brought into focus. “He’s never really grieved the loss of his mother and brother. When they died, it was like a light went out. Everything we did, every move we made was shadowed by the memories of when we were all together. Now, in the past few weeks, we’ve had some of that old life back.”

  And it felt so good. Sometimes, it scared him to think he’d do something, or say something to make it all go back to the way it had been.

  “That has nothing to do with me, Brack.” She tipped her head back to rest against the cushion, her eyelids heavy. “I’m just a buffer for the stilted moments. Before long, it will all be natural again. You don’t need someone in between. You need your son and the relationship you two will reform in time.”

  He didn’t know if he agreed. Somehow, he needed her. He just hadn’t defined how. One thing was certain. He’d never wanted to kiss anyone as bad as he did her. That thought snowballed into hotter thoughts. The soft curve of her neck and how it would taste… He bunched his hands into fists and searched for a more neutral topic. “So, how does it feel to be part of the team?”

  His sudden shift seemed to take her off guard. “Well, in the—” she glanced at her watch, “—half hour since I joined, I’d say you’re a pretty dull bunch.”

  “Touché.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  Her eyes were focused somewhere below his chest. There had to be an appropriate response, he just didn’t know what it was. “Do—what?”

  “Clench your fists.” She reached over to run her finger over his knuckles. “It’s a tell. You know, your sign that tells people you’re agitated. What I don’t know is why you’re frustrated right now.”

  “I’m not—frustrated.” He forced his fingers to relax. Pent-up? Yep. Ready to implode with need? Most definitely. But far from frustrated.

  “If you say so.”

  Her quick, skeptical glance at his hands made him realize he’d fisted them again. Shit. He’d never realized he had a tell. No one else had ever mentioned it. Not even Elle
n.

  She turned suddenly, her eyes riveted to the window. “What is that noise?”

  He’d heard the snowmobiles in the distance for some time, but they were closer now, the headlights from the machines visible on the other side of the lake. If she was content to let his lack of explanation go, so was he. “Snowmobiles.”

  Her brows furrowed and she leaned forward to follow the path of lights. “Isn’t that dangerous at night? They look like they’re going pretty fast.”

  “Night isn’t so much an issue, not if they know the trails and watch their speed. You have to remember most of us were brought up on them. I’ve been riding since I could walk.”

  “I guess. It just seems dangerous to be out in the dark. It’s so cold.” She tucked herself back into her chair, but her attention remained on the window. “What if they get stuck or lost?”

  There were always the foolish people who set out without knowing the trails, but for the most part, snowmobile accidents weren’t a common occurrence. “It happens from time to time. The biggest problems are speed and drinking. We’ve had plenty of calls over the years for such cases.”

  “That’s too bad. You’d hope people would think more for their safety, if not, at least consider the people who have to save them.” She yawned then, her eyelids heavy.

  Her comment rang slightly hypocritical in his ears. After all, wasn’t that what she’d been admonished for numerous times in her records? As much as he hated to end their evening, he took pity on her. But he’d save that hypocrite comment for another day. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin a perfectly good evening by stirring up the wasp nest that could be her tongue. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  Color shaded her cheeks and she sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. No, I’m fine, really. I’m enjoying myself. It’s just been a long day.”

  He pushed up from the loveseat and extended a hand. “That it has. You need some sleep, and I’m guessing a ride to work in the morning?”

  She accepted his hand and stood with a stretch. “Nope. Tomorrow’s my day off. I’ll call the mechanic and have him tow my car from the school.”

  “Good plan.” Silence stretched with building tension. She was so close, just a breath away. All he had to do was lean in. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  Ignoring the questioning arch of her brows, he doused the fire and waited until she walked out on the porch before he turned off the lamp. The night had cleared, and thousands of stars hung in the sky. The rumble of the snowmobiles echoed across the lake, and she turned to follow the headlamps as they scooted over the ground.

  “You were going to show me what you do for work, remember?”

  She’d asked earlier, and he’d completely forgotten. Taking her hand, he led her to the workshop out back. Snow crunched beneath his feet, echoed by hers. He liked the peaceful time with her. “It’s nothing spectacular.”

  He swung the shop door open and flipped the light switch.

  Light flooded the area, and Abby gasped. “Did you make these?”

  Her hand left his, and she walked away, trailing her fingers slowly over the smooth, lacquered pieces of driftwood he’d made into various forms of furniture and home decor. He swallowed the lump of desire her caress over the wood lodged in his throat. “Yeah.”

  “They’re beautiful.” She turned with a smile. “Who knew such a big, manly fireman would have hands gentle enough to make these.”

  She stood next to a piece of wood he’d found years ago and only recently made into a lamp. He wanted to go to her, show her how gentle his hands could be. Instead, he walked over and lifted the piece. “Gage got me hooked. If you think these are good, you should see his work.”

  “Does Gage live somewhere else?” she asked, studying the curves of the wood.

  “He’s in the Marine Corps. Stationed in Germany right now.”

  She looked up with a soft smile. “So every Elliot is a hero of some sort, huh?”

  “Hero?” He scoffed. “Hardly. Is that how you see yourself?”

  She laughed. “Nope. But there’s something about men doing what you all do that makes a girl a little warmer when she thinks of it.”

  Yep. Definitely leaving that one alone. She was going to burn him from the inside out.

  She drifted through the various pieces, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Stopping by a huge, unfinished piece of wood, she tipped her head. “What will this one be?”

  “A coffee-table.”

  She eyed the piece for a moment. “How?”

  Damn, he didn’t want to get any closer. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself. He grabbed a wood file from the workbench as he approached and handed it to her. “Use your hand first.”

  He took her other hand and smoothed it over the wood. “Find the flattest points, those are what I’m working on now. I have to file them down just enough to make the piece of glass sit flat.”

  She ran her hand over the wood. “Here’s one.”

  The light vanilla scent of her hair and her soft smile wreaked havoc on his already rapid pulse, but when she turned into him, her gaze hooded, he lost it.

  Sliding his hand across her cheek, he drew his thumb over her bottom lip. “Abby.”

  She kissed the pad of his thumb in response, and he leaned in. “It’s about time.”

  The whispered statement brought him up short. “What?”

  “It’s about time,” she repeated. “I didn’t think you were ever going to kiss me.”

  “I wish you would have said something.” He chuckled and drew her into his arms. “Or at least given me a sign that you wanted me to.”

  “I’m not much for hinting.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “And I never knew if I wanted to kiss you or kick you.”

  “But you know what you want this time?” he joked. She laughed, her hands smoothing along his neck as she pressed closer. He’d planned to go slow, just a taste, enough to get him through and hopefully stem the constant bleed of desire when she was around. But the moment their lips touched, he expected the fire alarms to go off. When she gasped, allowing him deeper access into her sultry heat, he crushed her closer, blinded by the inferno.

  Her fingers laced through his hair, and she curved into him until they touched, chest, hips, knees. His hands moved on their own, sculpting to the smooth lines of her hips and to the skin beneath her sweatshirt.

  “Abby.”

  He needed to be closer and backed her against the workbench, trailing kisses along her neck. She tipped her head back, allowing him access to the frantic pulse at her throat. Her leg hooked around his, and she moved against him, each shift and sigh turning his body rock hard. Then her hands were under his shirt, her nails dragging over his skin with a gentle bite that fanned the raging need already coursing through him. “I want you,” he whispered.

  “Here,” she rasped. “Now.”

  This wasn’t how it should happen. It was hot as hell, straight out of a dream, but it wasn’t right. She deserved more than a quick screw. “Abby, let’s—” What?

  “Go? Where? The cabin?” Then her brows furrowed and she stood on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. “Did Jonathon leave a flashlight on the dock?”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d groaned out loud or not, but when he turned to follow her gaze, his heart lurched as a dim light angled at the dock shifted. He took off toward the shed, yelling back over his shoulder. “Call 911. Tell them we’ve got a snowmobile in Parson’s Lake on the other side of the Elliot camp. Tell them we’re responding.”

  Chapter Eight

  Abby ripped her cell out as she followed Brack. It was difficult to dial the numbers running so she slowed a fraction. When the dispatcher answered, she picked up her pace again, her heart racing. “This is Abby Burke with Brighton Fire and Rescue. There’s a snowmobile in Parson’s Lake, opposite the Elliot camp, unknown number of victims, two rescue personal en route to scene, ETA unknown.”

  The dispatcher affirm
ed she’d page out Brighton, and Abby reached the shed as the loud motor of a vehicle roared to life. Brack lurched out of the shed on a snowmobile. Draped across the steering column were ropes and lifejackets. He tossed a rolled-up package at her. “Survival suit. Put it on quick.”

  The weight of the survival gear pulled at her arms. The last time she’d donned this type of suit in an emergency situation, she’d nearly died. The gear and the danger it represented may have scared others. For her, it was affirmation that she was alive and able to put it all on again. Her fingers tore open the heavy suit, and she was just pulling up the hood as Brack climbed back onto the snowmobile after donning his own. “Ready?”

  Several thick blankets were wedged between his legs, and she grabbed them before jumping on behind him. “Rescue’s being paged. Let’s go.”

  He nodded, pulling her hands around his waist. “Hang on tight.”

  She didn’t have more than a second to react before they sped away from the cabin. The road was blocked several yards down, but Brack took a sharp turn, nearly unseating her before the machine grabbed hold of the thick blanket of snow and propelled them forward.

  A mottled array of scenery whipped by in a dark blur, the thick trunks of the trees almost paper thin in the optical illusion of motion. She caught a faint glimpse of the light she’d noticed, its dim reflection barely discernible in the distance. Several times Brack neared the water’s edge. Her heart raced with adrenaline. If they hit the ice, they’d go through. Most of the lakes were opening up already.

  What the hell had the rider been thinking?

  “Abby, hang on. There’s a ditch ahead.”

  She clenched her fingers tighter into the folds of his coat, bringing her knees in beside his hips for extra leverage as they plunged downward in a sharp pitch. The loss of her stomach returned in the next second as the machine’s nose rammed through the snow at the low spot, sending a cloud of white powder up around them in an eerie cloak. Then they lifted, almost horizontal, into the air. The snowmobile’s track slipped on the steep incline and she leaned forward, praying they wouldn’t flip.