Sweetbriar Cottage

by Denise Hunter

  But, came a whisper from some corner of her mind, he had yet to take her up on her offer. He’d come up to her apartment on occasion . . . to watch a movie or eat a meal she’d fixed. But he never took things further than a passionate kiss. And after that first rejection, she hadn’t put herself out there again.

  He was a man of faith, a man of conviction. She admired that, even while the rejection left her feeling insecure and uncertain.

  When he pulled into the diagonal slot in front of her shop, they unbuckled their belts. The truck idled quietly, and a country tune played softly on the radio. He didn’t turn off the truck and get out as he usually did. Instead, he shifted toward her.

  He lifted their hands, their fingers laced together, and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I had a nice time, Josie. I always have a great time with you.”

  Her lips curved upward. “Likewise, Noah Mitchell.”

  The golden glow of the exterior light filtered through the cab, allowing her to see the look in his eyes as he leaned toward her. He nudged her chin up and swept her lips in a soft, sweet kiss, his eyes still open as if he couldn’t bear to tear them away from hers for even a moment.

  He pulled back, a whisper away, and drew his thumb along her cheek.

  Her pulse fluttered at his reverent touch, making words scatter from her mind. Feelings, sensations were all that remained. That and the musky, manly smell that wove around her like a net.

  “I love you, Josie.”

  The rough texture of his voice rippled over her, the words causing a quake deep inside.

  “I love you too,” she said on a soft breath, the words flowing out of their own accord.

  His lips tipped up an instant before they were on hers again. He kissed her longer this time, deeper, as if backing up the declaration. Sealing the deal. By the time he pulled away, she was gasping for air. But the feelings inside . . .

  She was floating. She was melting. She suddenly understood every cliché she’d ever heard about love. The cynicism encasing her heart gave a loud, hard crack.

  It didn’t always have to end badly, did it? Love worked out for some people. Noah was different from the others. Maybe her past didn’t matter. Maybe she could deserve him if she tried hard enough.

  Noah dragged his thumb over her lips, his gaze finding hers again. The look in his eyes, on his face, stole her breath. It said forever, and the thought made hope bloom inside like the brightest, freshest spring flowers.

  He really loves me, her heart whispered.

  You’re just asking for it with that thought, Josephine Dupree.

  She took a breath, then another, trying to temper her expectations.

  But another sweep of his thumb made her fears vanish like a dissipating vapor.

  Later, when she lay in bed reviewing those moments over and over, she decided to banish the voice from her mind. Instead, she memorized the feel of his lips on hers, the sensation of his touch on her skin, the smoky sound of his voice as he professed his love.

  And, if only because she needed it so desperately, she allowed herself to believe she was worthy of that love.

  Chapter 24

  North Georgia Mountains

  Present day

  The first thing Noah noticed as he awakened was Josie’s body curled into his. Her leg was tucked between his own, her face buried in his chest.

  One of his arms was wrapped around her as if she were a life preserver, and his other lay beneath her, tingling. He became aware of other things then. His toes, numb, his fingers, stiff. Beyond Josie, orange ashes glowed, the remains of their fire.

  As if sensing his wakefulness, Josie stirred. Her head tilted up until their eyes connected. He knew the moment she realized their position.

  Her eyelashes fluttered down, and she stiffened. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  She pushed away, taking her warmth with her, then sat up, huddling against the cold. “What time is it?”

  “About six thirty, I’d guess. Sleep okay?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. You?”

  He’d gotten up to replenish the fire three times and had trouble settling each time. “Yeah.”

  He got up and nursed the fire back to flame as Josie went into the woods. His stomach rumbled with emptiness. He filled the thermos’s metal lid with the last of the coffee and set it in the glowing ashes. By the time they’d eaten the rest of the cereal, the coffee was warm.

  The sun was peeking over the horizon as they set off on the service road. If they made good time they’d reach the main road around three or four this afternoon. He wasn’t sure if Josie could keep that pace through the deep snow, however. The cold made his own muscles less than cooperative.

  The road curved and wound, and a long uphill stretch a half hour into their walk left them both winded. He stopped halfway up so they could catch their breath.

  He handed her a water bottle and sipped from his own. “Doing all right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, panting between gulps.

  Her nose and cheeks were pink, the rest of her skin pale against the fur trim of the hood. Her teeth were chattering, and he was sure her hands and feet were colder than his—and his were plenty cold.

  Their breaths fogged in the stillness of the morning. A squirrel nattered from a nearby branch, and high branches clacked together in the breeze. The fragrant smell of pine scented the air.

  Noah assessed their position. The road turned sharply ahead. Across the wooded valley he could see where it doubled back, going downhill. They could save a lot of time, not to mention the uphill climb, if they cut across.

  There was a fairly steep and long drop-off to the valley floor, but once there it would be an easy walk to the road.

  “Feel like taking a shortcut down that hill?”

  She followed his gaze across the valley. “You had me at ‘downhill.’ Can we get down in one piece?”

  “We’ll take it slow.”

  Noah took her arm as they started down the slope. He caught her each time she slipped. He lost his own footing a couple times.

  “Too bad we don’t have a sled,” she said.

  “That’d be a lot of fun until we ran headlong into one of these trees.”

  “There you go, throwing cold water on my bright ideas.”

  “Can we not talk about cold water right now?”

  “Good point.” She stepped over a log, Noah grasping her arm tightly. “Let’s talk about hot things. Like campfires and hot cocoa.”

  “If we’re talking beverages, I’ll take a latte. Vanilla with an extra shot of espresso.”

  “A latte, huh?”

  It was a recent addiction. “I’m secure in my masculinity.”

  “Well, since we’re dreaming of hot and yummy, I’ll add beef stew and toasted marshmallows and—”

  “Stop, you’re making me hungry. Let’s stick to nonfood items.”

  “All right then. Electric blankets, hot baths, curling irons.”

  Noah held a branch out of her way. “Running engines.”

  “The sun.”

  “Hot tubs.”

  “Passionate kisses.”

  His eyes cut to hers as he lifted a brow.

  “Well . . .” She hitched a shoulder. “You can’t deny it.”

  Heaven knew they’d shared enough of those. They were like fire and gasoline when they came together—always had been. He hadn’t experienced anything like it before Josie and surely not afterward. Just thinking about it had raised his temperature a few degrees already. At least something good came from it.

  He reminded himself that Josie had probably had plenty of passionate kisses since they’d separated. All while they were still married, technically.

  They grew quiet as they reached the valley floor, and Noah was fine with that. This thread of conversation was dangerous. After spending the night holding Josie in his arms, he was all too aware of what he was missing.

  They followed the valley floor, trudging through the deep snow, skirting trees and fallen
branches. A few minutes later they came to a creek he hadn’t seen from the road. It was about twelve feet across, covered in snow, and lumpy with buried rocks.

  He paused on the bank, but Josie kept going.

  He grabbed her elbow just before she reached the edge. “Wait.”

  She searched his face. “It’s got to be iced over, right?”

  “Listen.”

  The brook bubbled quietly beneath the layer of snow and ice. “Too much movement. The ice’ll be thin.”

  “Well, there are plenty of rocks. We can make it.”

  He looked both directions searching for a better place to cross, but they seemed to be at the narrowest point. The rocks would be slippery, and getting wet would be a disaster.

  He turned around, looking behind him. The steep incline they’d just descended seemed formidable from down here. They’d never make it back up. And even if they did, they’d face another uphill climb.

  They’d be better off taking their chances with the creek.

  “All right, let’s go.” He hitched his gun strap higher on one shoulder, the backpack on the other, and took her elbow.

  They started off, wobbling here and there, using each other to catch their balance. The rocks were flat and close together near the shore. In the middle they were smaller, farther apart, and slippery.

  When Josie stepped onto the next rock, her foot slipped. He tightened his grip on her elbow as his own foot slid on a rounded rock. Fearing he’d drag her down, he let go, trying to catch his balance.

  Josie’s arms flailed and she shrieked.

  Tottering himself, he watched helplessly as her foot plunged through the snow. The brittle ice gave a loud crack, and her other foot followed with a splash.

  “Josie!” Having caught his balance, he reached out and plucked her from the knee-deep water. He half carried, half dragged her across the rocks to the bank.

  After brushing off a rock ledge he guided her down onto it. “Sit down.”

  “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. S-s-so cold!”

  Kneeling in front of her, he pulled off her boots, peeled off her sopping-wet socks, his cold fingers fumbling.

  He took off his gloves and tried warming her bare feet with his hands. But after a moment he realized they were too cold to do any good.

  Sitting beside her, he pulled off his boots, removed his socks, and put them on her, pulling them up over her calves. Her pant legs were wet up past her knees and already growing stiff with ice, but there was nothing he could do about that.

  He had to get her feet warm. The icy water would cause a drop in her body temperature, and she’d already been awful cold. She was shaking uncontrollably, and the danger of hypothermia, not to mention frostbite, had just become very real.

  “W-w-what are w-we going to do?”

  He hated the fear in her voice, in her wide blue eyes.

  He put his boots back on, then wrapped his hands around her stockinged toes. They had a long walk, but her boots were wet now. He could build another fire to dry everything out and warm her up a bit, but that would take hours and mean another night out here.

  They had to keep moving, keep her blood circulating.

  Mulling over their dilemma, he mentally reviewed their supplies. Then he opened the book bag and pulled out the two grocery bags she’d kept the snacks in.

  “These should keep you dry.” He slipped the bags on over her feet.

  “W-what about you? I can’t take your s-socks.”

  “My boots are good and warm—don’t worry about me.”

  He wished he could soak up the excess water from the inside of her boots, but there was nothing to soak it up with. He slipped her boots back on her feet and prayed the plastic would keep her dry.

  Josephine’s feet no longer ached. In fact, she couldn’t feel them at all. The cold air seemed to cut right through her clothing, making her shivering muscles tighten. Her frozen pant legs scraped together with each step.

  The numbness in her toes made her uncoordinated, and she tripped over another rock, buried beneath the snow.

  “Doing all right back there?” Noah called over his shoulder.

  “Yeah.”

  It had surely been less than an hour since she’d plunged into the ice-cold water, but everything had changed. She could no longer control the shivering, and her balance was off.

  She could tell Noah was trying to plow through the snow to make a path for her, but it didn’t seem to matter. They’d been walking uphill for the past twenty minutes. Her lungs struggled to keep pace. A fine sheen of perspiration coated her skin, chilling her further.

  Her foot hit something buried beneath the snow, and she tripped. She flung out her arms, but she was too late. Her knees stung with the impact, and a grunt escaped.

  Noah was at her side in a heartbeat. He helped her to her feet, brushed away the snow, searching her eyes. A frown crouched between his brows. “You okay?”

  Out of breath, she nodded.

  “Need to stop and rest a bit?”

  If she sat down she wouldn’t be able to get back up. “No.”

  A moment later he resumed his position in front, and they carried on.

  But she wasn’t okay. The bags were leaking—the wetness from her boots seeping into the socks. Her limbs quaked, her muscles ached, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Would this hill never end?

  She stopped. Just for moment. But Noah didn’t notice, and she hadn’t the breath to tell him. After a brief rest she trudged ahead, trying to catch up, but it was impossible. She stumbled over something in the road. Or maybe it was her own feet. But somehow she caught her balance and continued on.

  They had hours to go. She was never going to make it. She didn’t know how she was remaining on her feet as it was. The snow she plowed through seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and her body begged for reprieve.

  Noah looked over his shoulder. Josie had fallen behind. He slowed his pace. He hadn’t liked what he’d seen when she’d stumbled. Her face was pale, her lips drained of color. It wasn’t fear flickering in her eyes any longer, but resignation.

  At a scuffling sound, he whipped around just as Josie hit the ground. He rushed back to where she lay on her stomach. Her elbows were the only thing keeping her face out of the snow.

  He tried to help her up.

  “No.” She pushed his hands away.

  “You’re getting wet.”

  “This is too hard. I can’t do this anymore.” Her head sagged between her shoulders, her torso rising and falling with her shallow breaths. She looked as if she were ready to lie there and give up.

  Not on his watch. He reached down and lifted her out of the snow, setting her on her feet. When she wavered he tightened his grip around her waist.

  “Go on, Noah . . . Just go on without me.”

  “I’m not leaving you. Come on, I’ll help you.”

  Before he could take a step, she shrugged him off.

  “I can’t!” Her eyes filled with tears. “I just can’t.”

  He hated the surrender in her eyes. Hated the way her body quaked with cold. And hated most of all how helpless it made him feel.

  “You go on.” She looked ready to drop on the spot. “Go for help. I’ll w-wait here. I’ll be fine.”

  He was shaking his head before she even finished. Having grown up in the mountains, he knew the rules. Splitting up was a bad idea. Something could happen to the person who went for help, leaving the other person stranded. And the one left behind often suffered from despair and mental fatigue from being alone and bereft. They gave up hope.

  Josie wasn’t a quitter, and she wasn’t a complainer. If she said she couldn’t go on, she really couldn’t.

  So he couldn’t either. “All right. We’ll stop and rest awhile. I’ll build a fire, and we’ll get you warmed up and dried off.” They could still make it back today. Maybe not before dark, but they had a flashlight. Maybe someone would even see the smoke from their fire and come to investigate.
r />   But when they’d settled at the base of some nearby boulders, and he removed her boots, fear clawed at his throat. The plastic bags had leaked, leaving her feet wet and frigid.

  Chapter 25

  Copper Creek

  About three years ago

  Noah had never believed in love at first sight, but his experience with Josie made him a believer. It had been all he could do to wait three months before professing his love to her.

  In the two months since, he’d been on cloud nine. Having Josie in his life . . . There weren’t words to describe how it had changed him. He thought of her every hour of every day. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Couldn’t wait to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her in his arms. But even that wasn’t enough.

  He was caulking one of the new windows he’d installed at the Willoughbys’ house when the realization struck with the force of a lightning bolt. The caulk gun slipped from his hands, hitting the windowsill before thunking onto the carpet.

  He wanted to marry her. It wasn’t as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him before—it occurred every time he went home alone after one of their dates.

  But this was a knowing. A knowing deep in his soul that this was right. And an urgency. What was he waiting for? He loved her. She loved him. He wanted nothing more than to start their life together.

  He hummed with energy. His hands shook with adrenaline. He couldn’t finish this job right now. It was Saturday anyway, and the Willoughbys would be out of town for another week. He wiped his fingers on his rag and picked up the caulk gun.

  He had to tell someone. His family seemed lukewarm toward Josie, at best. Besides, his parents were helping friends move into their new house today, and his brother was on a roof.

  But he knew just where to find his buddy Jack.

  Noah stopped in front of Jack’s closed office door. He tried to calm his racing heart. He’d always thought the heavy wooden door looked like it belonged on some ancient antechamber. It had cast iron straps and an open rectangular window filled with black filigreed scrolling. The builder in him appreciated the quality hardwood and detailing absent from today’s construction.