“Thank you,” he said. “It wasn’t easy then, and I still miss him, we all do, but it was a long time ago now. I’m fine. We’re all fine.” He held her gaze. “Man, I missed you when I left. So much.”
“Yeah,” she said, softly. “I did, too.”
“So many times I just needed someone to talk to, to help me get a handle on everything. I—a hundred times, more than that, I wanted to call you.”
“You could have. You should have.”
He shook his head. “It was all too complicated. My life was upside down, and you were still back at school, where I wanted to be.” He shook his head again, but this time to clear the lingering memories. “It was partly because I didn’t want to burden you, but mostly, I think now it was selfish. I just—”
“Didn’t need to be reminded that you weren’t going to get what you wanted so badly.”
He caught her gaze again. “Yes,” he said, knowing she meant a college degree . . . and also knowing it had been that and so much more. He started to lift his hand to her face again, to move in closer, but the barista chose that moment to stop by their table.
“Peppermint mocha lattes?” he asked brightly, seemingly unaware he was interrupting a moment. “It’s our holiday special.”
Parker stepped back, banged her hip against the table, then, that twisty-lip smile on her face, stumbled as she awkwardly angled her long frame into the narrow confines of the booth bench in a half sprawl, before righting herself and propping her elbow on the table, chin in hand, as if she’d been nothing but graceful.
“You okay?” Will asked, unable to keep from grinning.
“What? Why do you ask?” she asked with fake innocence.
He chuckled. “I’ll just have a regular hot chocolate, Lonzo,” he told the barista, reading his nametag. He glanced at their booth. “Parker?”
“Same for me.”
“Extra whipped cream on both,” he told the young man, who took the order, then headed toward the front counter. “Hey, do you have sandwiches, anything like that?”
Lonzo turned back, smiling. “We’ve got an ahi tuna sprout wrap. Assortment of cookies and pastries. And we do a breakfast panini after eleven p.m.”
The sound of that breakfast thing made Will’s stomach growl, but it was only a little after ten. He looked at Parker. “Do you want anything else?” She shook her head, so he turned back to the barista. “I’ll take the wrap, two if you have them, a few cookies—any kind—and a bottle of water, too.”
The young man’s smile spread to a grin. “Long day?”
Will chuckled. “You have no idea.”
Lonzo gave him a quick onceover, then, eyes twinkling, he added, “Yeah. I wanted a calendar, but that line was crazy long.”
Will heard a quickly stifled snort from Parker and felt his face warm just a little, but he smiled at the younger man. “I signed stock before I left. You can probably grab one tomorrow. It’s a good cause.”
Lonzo’s grin broadened. “Yeah, that’s totally what I was thinking. Doing it for the cause.” He whistled as he headed back to the front counter.
Parker wiggled her eyebrows at Will when he turned back toward the booth. “He’s a cutie. I could get his number for you.”
“Thanks, but I prefer tall redheads with a cooking impediment.” He grinned when her cheeks went pink all over again. Yep, he’d definitely underestimated the pleasure of flustering a pretty girl. He debated on whether to slide in next to her like he wanted to, but ended up shoving his gear bag over and sliding in across from her.
“You have quite the adoring public.” She nudged his feet under the table with her toes. “Now who’s the god?”
The heat crawled down to his neck. He’d forgotten that flustering thing went both ways. “It’s for a good cause,” he said, which had become his go-to, standard reply for any comment made to him about his current fifteen minutes of cover model fame.
“How did the whole thing come about?”
“Good friend of mine, a guy on the squad, his mother-in-law works for a publishing house that does this kind of thing. And he has a daughter who’s pretty sick. It’s not good.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s—he feels really helpless. So his wife’s mother pitched the idea to her bosses, about doing a charity calendar featuring firemen from Philly and surrounding areas, with the proceeds going to the children’s research hospital where his daughter, and a lot of other kids, are being treated.”
“Is your friend in the calendar?”
Will laughed. “Marvin? No. He’s not . . . well, let’s just say he was happy to recruit me, but even happier not to step in front of the camera himself.”
Parker smiled. “It’s a good thing, you helping him. Are you glad you did it?”
“Oh, of course. It’s . . . I won’t lie. It’s turned into something I couldn’t—I had no idea, about any of this kind of thing.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the bookstore. “Much less what it would become.”
“But it’s bringing more money to the cause, right?”
“Absolutely. Which is the only reason on God’s green earth I’d have sat behind that table half dressed in turn-out gear for nine straight hours, trust me,” he said, chuckling.
“You made more than just the kids at that research hospital happy.” She grinned. “Those women were downright giddy.”
He dipped his chin, willing the heat to leave his face. “It’s . . . crazy. That’s all I can say.”
“You didn’t know you’d be on the cover?”
He shook his head. “Found out when the calendars arrived four weeks ago. We started selling them a week or so before Thanksgiving. It’s . . . well, it’s certainly turned out to be a way bigger deal than I anticipated. Newspaper interviews, photos, signings. A couple of us even did this morning show for a regional network in Philly. Crazy. But it’s almost over, thank God, so . . .” He shrugged.
Parker just kept grinning at him. And when Lonzo came over bearing a large tray filled with their order, leaving him an extra cookie “on the house” under which Will found a note with the young man’s cell number scrawled on it, her grin turned into a snort of laughter.
“Come on,” she goaded. “You have to kind of love it. I mean, at the very least, you probably got a few hot dates out of the deal.”
“I’m not a piece of meat,” he said. “I’m sensitive, I have feelings,” he added, with faux seriousness, which lasted for about a split second. Then they both busted out laughing.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Men,” Parker said, snatching one of his cookies.
Will’s eyebrows lifted at that parting shot. “Ouch. Sounds like someone isn’t all that enchanted with my gender at the moment.”
“Like I said, it’s been an interesting week. Month. Okay, years. Years, Will.” She waved her cookie before he could respond. “But that’s all in the past.”
“It is?”
“Yep.” She took a decisive bite of the thick, chewy chocolate chip cookie and his entire body surged right back to life when a melted piece of chip glazed the corner of her mouth. He’d never wanted to lick anything more in his entire life.
“I’ve sworn off men. Except for sex, of course.”
Will had just taken a sip of water to cool himself off and almost choked on it. He managed to get it down, barely, then said, “Excuse me? Did you just say—?”
“I did. I mean, I’m not dead, right? And we’re all adults. Besides, it turns out I completely suck at relationships.”
“But not at sex.”
Her neck got a little splotchy, but she brazened it out. He didn’t feel the least bit responsible, either. After all, she’d started it.
“I’d like to think not,” she said, somewhat primly. “No complaints, anyway.”
“I’d bet not.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What does that mean?”
He lifted his hands off the table, palms out. “Nothing. Compliment.”
“Oh. Well . . . thank you. You’d probably agree with me, too, right? About just having sex, I mean. Not about me being good at it, since you wouldn’t know that, but wouldn’t it just be easier all around if that’s all we did? Have sex?”
“I—” Will was pretty sure the combination of his body going rock hard and his brain firing off multiple synapses as he pictured doing with her exactly what she was saying she wanted to do—have sex and only sex, all the time—had left him completely incapable of speaking anything intelligible.
“I just think it would be a lot easier if we were direct and up front about wanting what we want, without all the emotional entanglements, right?”
He made some kind of strangled noise in his throat that she apparently took for agreement.
“Men have always taken the caveman approach. I think it’s time we women wised up and did the same thing. You man, me woman, we mate like bunnies. Then you leave cave and me with big smile on my face. Win-win.”
It took several sips of water before he could will his brain to stop the bombardment of images, from picturing her in an admittedly politically incorrect, skimpy little animal-fur cavewoman getup, to him dragging her back to his cave by her . . . her pelt, so they could have wild, Jurassic sex—all the time, her words—giving him an entirely new appreciation for the hunter-gatherer work ethic.
“I, uh—” He paused to clear his throat, but even so the words still came out a bit strained. “I might have thought so,” he managed. “Once upon a time.”
She looked surprised. “But not now? Oh.” Her smile faded as comprehension dawned. “Are you . . . you’re in a relationship then? A good one.” She hadn’t made that last part a question. And he tried to figure out if her expression was disappointment, resignation, or indifference. For once, he couldn’t quite tell.
“I’m—”
She cut off his reply. “That’s good, though. I mean, I do realize that there are people who have good relationships, great ones, even. In fact, it’s a relief to hear from someone—anyone—who’s in one. In my former line of work . . . well, let’s just say, my current viewpoint would have probably received a very favorable response, but it wouldn’t have helped anyone.”
“Your . . . former line of work?” His lips quirked. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
She kicked his ankle under the table, and he chuckled even as he winced. She wore very pointy shoes.
“I wrote an advice column for the Pine Mountain Gazette.” She lifted a hand. “Don’t say it, I know. It’s not exactly the journalism career I’d dreamed of.”
“I bet it was challenging though, dealing with a constant stream of everyone else’s problems. Is that why you left?”
“Oh, I didn’t quit. I was fired. Because of a very public relationship failure that happened right in front of my editor at our local grocery store earlier this week.”
“Ah. So . . . that would be the other retail establishment scene you referred to before.” He reached across the table, covered her hand with his own. “I’m sorry, Parker. For the job loss. Not so much for the loser of a guy. You’re better off without him.”
“You don’t know anything about him. He’s actually a nice guy.”
“Nice guys don’t dump their girlfriends in a grocery store, in public.”
“Well, to his credit, he didn’t know it was in public, he was on speakerphone—don’t ask—and . . . well, full disclosure, he didn’t think of me as his girlfriend. So, technically, he wasn’t dumping me, but I—” She broke off, ducked her chin and picked at the lid on her hot chocolate. With a short sigh, she added, “I misread things. I—I do that. And losing the job . . . well, that was probably a mercy killing, too.”
He tugged her hand back across the table and kept it trapped under his. “Aw, come on, Parker. That can’t be true. You’re just upset, and understandably so, especially with it happening this time of year. I remember how much you loved the holidays. So . . . don’t be so hard on yourself.”
She peered up through her lashes and met his gaze across the table. Then, to his surprise, she smiled. “You are a sensitive guy. With feelings. Not just another hunky piece of meat.”
He barked out a laugh at that, and squeezed her hand more tightly under his. “Hunky, huh?”
“Sweet, sensitive guys don’t fish.” But her smile grew. “I forgot how good you were at making me feel like less of a complete loser.” The corners of her mouth twisted a little. “But just like then, you can’t make it any less true.”
He smiled with her, then leaned forward to dab the chocolate from the corner of her mouth. With his gaze still on hers, he put his fingertip in his mouth and savored the taste of the only sweet thing he could have at the moment. “Not true. Not to me. Never with me.”
Her eyes went a bit rounder, and her lips parted. . . . He had to fight the very grown-up urge to drag her right across the table.
Yeah. They definitely weren’t kids any longer.
Chapter 3
Will wove his fingers through hers, and everything inside of Clara said yes. Yes to finding each other again, yes to sharing fond memories, yes to picking up where they’d left off . . . and yes to finding out what would have happened next if he’d stayed, what would happen next now that he was back.
“Will, would you like to—”
“Parker, I really want—”
“Excuse me—I’m so sorry to interrupt.”
Hands still clasped, both Clara and Will broke off speaking, but found it harder to break eye contact and look at Lonzo, who was once again standing beside their table.
“My manager just called and told me to go ahead and close up if I didn’t have anybody here.”
Clara blinked, as if coming out of a fog, which wasn’t far from being accurate. A hormone fog. A quick glance at the small café showed they were, indeed, the only ones there.
“I thought you stayed open twenty-four hours?” Will asked.
“Normally we do. But the snowstorm is picking up and now they’re calling for it to potentially dump a pretty heavy load in the valley. My manager thought it would be a good idea to clean up and get everything shut down properly before we lose power. Last time this happened we didn’t and we ended up losing a lot of product. Were you—do you live nearby?”
Clara thought perhaps there was possibly a hint of a personal inquiry in that, but then she saw Lonzo notice their clasped hands, and his expression shifted a bit. “Will you be able to get wherever it is you’re going, I mean? We have a few motels local, if that helps. I have a list—”
“That’s okay, I have a truck with a plow,” Will told him. “We’ll be fine.”
There was a bit of a wistful note in Lonzo’s sigh as he gave them the check and carry-out containers for what was left of Will’s food.
Clara reached for her purse, but Will tugged her hand and reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “I got it.”
“I thought this was payback for—”
“I’m the one who did all the eating.” He handed over some cash and thanked Lonzo with the full dimples-out grin, telling him to keep the change. The young man blushed straight to his roots, stammered out a “Thanks for coming in,” then headed to the back and started closing up.
“Guess we’ve officially been kicked out,” Will said, shifting those dimples back in her direction.
She could have told him that from the moment he’d put his hand on hers and licked that dab of chocolate off his fingertip, she was pretty sure her knees weren’t going to support her weight, much less balance her upright. But when he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles, snagging a bit of whipped cream foam she hadn’t realized she’d splashed there, she all but swallowed her own tongue, so she just gurgled a little as they both slid out of their respective sides of the booth. Fortunately he kept her hand in his, keeping her upright, if not entirely steady.
“I haven’t looked out there since we came in, so I don’t know how bad it i
s over the mountain. You still live in Pine Mountain?”
“I inherited my grandma’s place.” Clara was very aware of how warm his palm was now that he’d slid his hand around to hold hers. “You’re still in Bealetown, right? I—I overheard ladies in line saying you’re with the fire department there.”
“I am. Well, I was. But I should probably check in. I left my radio in the truck. If this storm is turning into something nasty, they might need any help they can get.”
“Was? Is—is the calendar thing taking the place of work for now?”
He let her hand go and she tried not to sigh at the loss of contact, but then he slipped her coat off the peg and nudged her around so he could help her on with it.
“Actually, I’m not technically working at the moment. I’m changing jobs shortly, and using the time in between to promote the calendar and get things set up in the new office.”
Clara turned to face him before he could help her put her coat on. “You’re leaving the fire department?”
“No. I’m still going to be working with them, just in a different capacity. It’s taken way too long, but I did finally finish my degree, taking classes as I’ve been able.”
“You did?” Clara spontaneously hugged him. “That’s great. I always felt bad that your family circumstances forced you back home again. I mean, I know you had to do what you had to do, and I’m sure your family was beyond grateful for it, but I also knew how much you wanted your science degree. Wait—what will you be doing with that and the fire department?”
“Well, I went in a bit of a different direction, which is also why it took longer. I lost most of the credits I’d gotten that first year. Technology has really advanced with forensic investigations, both in the law enforcement field, and with our departments, too. So much so that they established a new tri-county forensic fire unit to work with the local fire marshals on their investigations.”
The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap Page 5
