Can't Fight This Feeling (Cabin Fever)

by Christie Ridgway

  Still, it meant she had to start getting serious about her life. Take charge. Make a plan.

  Make that future she’d been wanting. The future that was built on her choices.

  Once again, she followed Mac inside her office to retrieve her purse. When she emerged, it was to see a black SUV slide in at the curb, right behind her small car. Brett unfolded himself from the driver’s seat, a thunderous expression on his face.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, hands going to his waist. His jeans were black, the shirt he wore was white, vaguely Western-style and rolled up on his powerful forearms. If she swooned, she’d fall at his feet, shod in a pair of plain black cowboy boots. He looked masculine, vital and a tiny bit dangerous.

  She felt disheveled and dusty and noticed that one of her shoelaces had come undone. Maybe she could run inside to wash her face and comb her hair. Surely there was a lipstick at the bottom of her purse.

  As she stepped back, Mac and Glory crowded onto the doorstep, preventing her escape. Her belly fluttered.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Um...”

  “You worked a half day with my sister.” He sent an annoyed look over her shoulder to Mac. “Then you disappeared.”

  “Uh—”

  “Neither of you answered your cells.”

  “Coverage is shit, you know that,” Mac said, though there was no heat in her voice. She glanced over at Angelica, then back to Brett. “Cool your jets, big bro.”

  He wasn’t paying attention to her. His brows slammed together over his nose, and he stalked toward Angelica. “You’re sunburned.”

  Suddenly her mind flipped to a different day. Another time with Brett, his attention focused on her then, too. Stand straight and hold still. Turn up your face and close your eyes. His fingers, cool with lotion, stroking over her skin to protect her from the sun. To protect her.

  “Mountain roses,” Glory put in.

  Distracted, Brett looked to her friend. “What?”

  Glory shrugged. “That’s what my mom calls the color that comes from a hike in our beautiful outdoors. Angelica has mountain roses in her cheeks. Don’t they look pretty?”

  He pinched her chin between two fingers and lifted it higher. His gaze ran over her features, as if cataloging each one separately.

  Angelica forced herself not to jump away, though her pulse stuttered and her heart pounded as he studied her. “We didn’t see any bears. Or mountain lions. Not a coyote. Not even a wild burro,” she heard herself say. The way his hands touched her was making her babble. “That was disappointing. Glory and Mac had a pinecone fight, though. And we found a heart.”

  A sign.

  The true, real sign.

  “You guys went to the falls. It’s a beautiful place,” he said, his voice soft. Gentle, like last night when he’d made her feel safe in the dark. When he’d made her feel...cherished.

  And now here he was, worried about her.

  Concerned about her well-being, like no one had been for a long time.

  Forever.

  His thumb traced her bottom lip. Angelica wanted to close her eyes and fall into him. Resting against his strong body, maybe the making of future plans would be easier.

  Within the circle of his arms, maybe she could figure out how to deal with the fact that she’d fallen in love with Brett Walker.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BRETT DECIDED HE should have made some excuse to avoid a Walker family dinner at Poppy and Ryan’s. Hours alone would have suited him better. The women in his life were making him mad.

  He brooded from his place on the oversize couch in their oversize family room. Tipping back his beer, he stared at the flames in the fireplace and wished it was summer. Then he could have hung out by the grill on the terrace, doing manly things with a pair of tongs and a metal spatula, far from the chatter of the females.

  His nephew, Mason, came skipping into the room and threw himself on the cushion beside Brett. He clutched a paper in his hand, something he’d drawn.

  They sat in a chummy enough silence, the boy studying his illustration, Brett contemplating the inside of his eyelids. If he fell asleep, then maybe no one would bother waking him and he could snooze the entire evening away.

  “She’s pretty,” Mason said. “Grimm likes her.”

  “Grimm likes anyone who drops him morsels from the vegetable tray.” He looked down at his nephew. “Who’s pretty?”

  Mason shot him a sly side eye. “You know who. You saw her feeding my dog carrots.”

  Brett frowned. “How old are you again? Forty-two?”

  “Five.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Brett shook his head. “You’re too smart for five.”

  “Duke says I’m the smartest boy in the mountains,” Mason boasted.

  Brett glanced up as “Duke”—Mason’s name for his stepfather-to-be, Ryan Hamilton—strolled into the room. The other man toasted him with his own bottle of craft beer, then his gaze shifted to the little boy, a warm expression overtaking his face. “Mace, you want to help me bring in some more wood for the fire?”

  “Sure.” The boy slid off the couch and ran toward the other man. His hand slipped naturally into Ryan’s.

  Brett watched them walk off together, ignoring the painful twinge in his chest. They were going to be a great father-son team. Already were. That he’d been the man in Mason’s life for the first five years...well, a kid couldn’t have too many people to love him.

  At the thought, his gaze shot toward the kitchen, where the women were gathered, stirring, chopping, chattering. Usually he would join them and do his part for the dinner prep—the Walker ladies didn’t buy into strict divisions of labor and he didn’t blame them—but today he was steering very clear.

  Because Angelica had joined their ranks.

  He only had himself to blame. He’d worried when she hadn’t arrived back at the cabins that afternoon, imagining a run-in with Lorraine, car trouble, any number of small and major disasters. Once he’d tracked her down at Mac’s office, the invitation—more like order—for her to join them all at Poppy’s had just tripped out of his mouth.

  She’d tried to demur, which had only served to piss him off.

  Yeah, he wasn’t being reasonable, he acknowledged, tipping back his head to swallow more beer. Like he said, the women in his life were making him mad.

  A muted footstep on the thick rug made him glance around. Jace. Phew. Male company was the only kind he was fit for at the moment. Big brown eyes and flushed cheeks were just too appealing. Mountain roses.

  For a moment, with her dusty shoes and flushed face, Angelica had looked like a mountain girl. As if she belonged.

  “Why are you in here all by yourself?” Jace asked. During the past summer, while Brett had been drooling over a brunette beauty and dodging her overtures, the other man had reconnected with his teenage daughter and fallen for Brett’s youngest sister, Shay.

  “I’m working on some way to elicit London’s sympathy,” he lied. “My paperwork is still a mess.”

  Jace dropped into a chair and stretched out his legs. Like Brett, he’d worked with his hands his entire life and now ran an international construction firm. He’d come to Blue Arrow with the intention of leaving as soon as possible, but now he was willing to stay anywhere London and Shay wanted.

  Brett was happy for his youngest sister, but God, as a man it was more than a little disconcerting to witness how both his future brothers-in-law were besotted. But the Walker women were handfuls, so he supposed he was happy to have some help in keeping them reined in.

  Not that he could ever say such a thing. They’d flay him.

  “She wants the wedding at the cabins,” Jace said.

  “Late spring, then. Or summer.”

  Jace frowned. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

  “Your ring’s on her finger. What’s the big deal?”

  The other man shook his head. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

  The
re was a term for a man displaying this kind of ardent devotion, but Brett wasn’t going to utter it. Still, the devotion was mutual, so he had a suggestion. “Tell Shay, then. With exactly that same stubborn inflection. I know my sister. She’ll melt.”

  “Dispensing romantic advice, huh?” Mac perched on the arm of Jace’s chair. “You’re full of all sorts of surprises today, bro.”

  He was going to retort something about how people holding their own secrets shouldn’t jab—Zan had been sending her postcards!—but then Angelica made her way into the room, distracting him. Their gazes met, and silent communication ensued.

  Okay?

  Good.

  Sure?

  Smiling, she nodded and sipped wine the same burgundy color as the sweater she wore with jeans and boots. Though he knew Poppy would be fine if Angelica had arrived just as she was after her hike, she’d insisted on a quick trip back to her cabin for a shower and a change of clothes.

  He’d waited in her living room and when she’d walked toward him, smelling of a light perfume, he’d read the misgiving on her face. They’d communicated without words then, too.

  His eyes had narrowed. Yes. You’re not getting out of it.

  Now he didn’t know why he’d been so insistent. One of them should have stayed away. Him. Because Mac said something to her and she turned to the other woman, laughing, those damn mountain roses blooming even brighter.

  Making her even more beautiful, as if that were possible.

  Then the rest of the crowd gathered in the room. Ryan strode over the threshold holding a giggling Mason by the ankles. Shay glided in next, to perch on the other arm of Jace’s chair. He instantly pulled her into his lap, making his daughter mock shudder and roll her eyes as she arrived with Grimm, the Lab/Shepherd mix at her heels, a tray of appetizers in her hands.

  Poppy appeared last, a package under her arm, beaming at everyone like the sweetheart she was. The combined noise of the party filled the room, and Brett relaxed on the cushions, taking it all in. At times like this—not that he’d admit it to anyone—he’d feel the presence of his parents. Keeping it together, Mom and Dad, he thought.

  Warmth and that tantalizing perfume settled next to him. He glanced over at Angelica, who was watching the interaction around her, her lips curved. “Pretty wonderful...all of you.”

  “I was just thinking that.”

  She smiled at him and he felt it like a blow. This morning, he’d awoken beside her but felt a surge of relief to find his defenses securely back in place. Then she’d gone AWOL, and now he realized that the hours of worry had cracked his walls.

  He had work to do if he was going to get through this unscathed.

  But he couldn’t make a move now, drag her home so that they could retreat to their separate corners because she looked so damn pleased to be in the midst of the chatter and laughter. Grimm trotted over to gaze at her adoringly and she leaned close to rub her cheek on top of his big head.

  As if the simple creature comfort of touch was something she treasured.

  Without thinking, he reached for her hand.

  Before their fingers met, Poppy called his name. He started, cursing himself. His sister practically ran over to him, the package she’d brought into the room held out toward him.

  He gazed at it, suspicious. It was flatter than a shoe box and wrapped in brown paper. “It’s not my birthday.”

  She thrust it closer. “It’s a thank-you.”

  “I should pass it to Ryan, for taking you off my hands.”

  A rumbling came from all three of his sisters, their displeasure at his joke that their care had to be passed to a lowly man evident. He glanced over at Angelica, and saw the sparkle in her eyes and the curve to her lips.

  I know you’re teasing, her laughing expression said.

  “Just take the present,” Mac advised.

  As Poppy put it in his hands, he studied her face. She looked one part uncertain and three parts excited. “Featherhead?” he said, the word came out as fondly as he felt toward her. “Are you okay, hon?”

  “Walkmedowntheaisle,” she blurted out.

  “Huh?”

  Her fingers tangled at her waist. “I know you’re not sentimental. I know you think I’m sappy. But I want to be on your arm.”

  Brett glanced around, still not catching on. It was Angelica who took pity on his confusion. “Walk her down the aisle,” she whispered, “on her wedding day.”

  He stared at her, then back at his sister’s anxious face. “I don’t know that I really want to give you away, Pop,” he said honestly.

  Of course that made her cry. Tears made her gray eyes shine like crystals. Ryan crossed to her, pulling her back against his chest. “He’s teasing, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head and smiled even as two of those tears trailed down her cheeks. “No, he’s not. But the good news is, I’m not leaving this family or anything close to it.” Her head twisted to look at her fiancé. “We’re just pulling you in.”

  Ryan mock groaned. “Maybe I do deserve the present.”

  They all laughed, and Poppy wiped her face while Brett peeled the wrapping from the parcel. Beneath the brown paper was a heavy, old-fashioned-looking pair of binoculars. “Pop, these are incredible. Where—”

  “The historical society’s silent auction. I saw them and they just screamed you. They come from the estate of Walter Elliott. I was going to wait for Christmas, but...”

  “You couldn’t keep a secret that long.” Brett stood and yanked his sister into a hug. She’d never lost her sense of wonder, her honest delight in everything, her belief that the world would smile back if she kept on beaming at it, full power. Once upon a time he’d worried over that. Now he thought she might have finally found her reward for all that cockeyed optimism.

  Over Poppy’s head, he looked at Angelica, who was staring down at her lap as if to allow the family a private moment. It bothered him, that impulse she had to distance herself. Again, he was struck by the certainty that she was another Poppy at her very core, buoyant and bright, but that ugly circumstances and parental indifference had tarnished her sunny side.

  It was a damn shame.

  So for the rest of the evening he stopped thinking about himself and worked on integrating her into the group. He passed her crackers he spread with cheese himself. When Mason wanted to play a card game, he insisted Angelica be his partner. After the meal, when London brought out the stack of wedding magazines, he didn’t bitch like he normally would and absent himself from the scene. Instead, like his two brothers-in-law-to-be, he sat back, sipping a final beer and enjoying the hell out of watching all the females bond over finding the most atrocious gown design. Mason fell asleep, his feet in Brett’s lap, his head on Ryan’s.

  Jace fondled Grimm’s ears as he smiled at Shay and London from an easy chair. “Good times, guys,” he murmured, glancing at the other men.

  Brett found he couldn’t disagree.

  Finally, they bundled up and headed out the door. Maybe the aisle thing had him feeling sentimental because he hugged each sister for a long moment and gave Ryan and Jace slaps on the back along with a handshake before leaving.

  “Made her day, man,” Ryan said, nodding toward his bride-to-be. Poppy was humming to herself as she danced about the room, picking up stray glasses.

  “I’ve never seen her so happy,” Brett said. “That’s you.”

  Not long after, when he pulled up to the cabins, he recalled his sister’s dreamy expression. Angelica had a similar distant look in her eyes as he walked her to her door, though it wasn’t soft like Poppy’s. Again, the remoteness didn’t sit well with him.

  “Angelica,” he said.

  “Hmm?” She had her keys in hand and turned to face him as if suddenly realizing he was beside her.

  That rankled.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Of course.” Her smile was perfunctory. “I’ll be fine.”

  Alone, she meant. Without hi
m now. Without him in her future.

  He caught her shoulders, the madness once again descending. Blast every damn female on the earth, but he couldn’t let her walk in there by herself. For now, for whatever reason, he needed her close. He thought she needed to be close to him. “Stay with me,” he murmured.

  She tilted her head.

  Stay with me? He eased the panic bubbling inside by clarifying. “Come to bed with me.” With slow backward steps, he pulled her in the direction of his cabin. “My mattress is bigger.”

  Her footsteps only dragged, so he added a kiss as persuasion. When he lifted his head, she was no longer resisting. As he unlocked the door to his cabin, she did manage to make one last protest. “Really, Brett. You know I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded as he guided her inside instead of expressing the sudden worry that he might not be. He might not be fine ever again.

  * * *

  ANGELICA PULLED A plastic-wrapped staple gun from the cardboard packing box and handed it up to Glory, standing on a stepladder. “I’m still not sleeping with Kyle,” her friend said.

  “That’s your prerogative.” Angelica passed on another package.

  “I want to,” Glory said. “But I’m being cautious.”

  “He told you he wasn’t married. You believe him, right?”

  “Yes.” Glory frowned as she took the last package. “But I still think he’s holding something back.”

  Angelica frowned, too, as she broke down the now-empty box. She’d been sleeping with Brett. Three nights in a row now. And though he was thorough and slow, every time, she could feel his restraint.

  Maybe she should have some herself. But she’d gone willingly to his bed. So willingly.

  Now she had to admit their relationship, such as it was, was going to end soon.

  In the past couple of days, though she might wake up warm and sated, she’d also become more clear eyed. Despite her great attachment to the mountains, as the temperatures grew colder, she saw it was time to be a realist. Her sojourn here was drawing to a close, maybe even before Brett had the chance to tell her it was over between them.