Vermont Valentine (Holiday Hearts #3)

by Kristin Hardy

  He understood because that was like him. But it wasn’t enough. “Next time we have one of these meetings, you should drive in with me.” He didn’t look at her but jacked up the truck.

  “Jacob Trask, escort?”

  “If you like. Save you money on new tires.”

  “What happens if they come after yours?”

  His smile was quick and feral. “They won’t.” He pulled off the flat tire and put on the spare, the heavy tire looking like a toy in his big hands.

  When he’d lowered the truck again, he turned to her. “This isn’t all sugar-makers, or even most of us. Most of the folks who showed up are decent people. They don’t do this kind of thing, no matter how angry or scared they are.”

  “I know.”

  “I just want you to—” Suddenly, he stopped, head cocked.

  “What?” Celie asked.

  He let the tire slip to the ground and walked over to her front wheel. A wheel that was already sagging, she realized with a sinking heart. Dropping to his heels in front of it, Jacob ran his fingers over the rubber, stopping at a spot near the tread. She could hear the hiss of air against them. He cursed under his breath. “Looks like they got you for two.”

  This time it was more than casual frustration she could shrug off. This time, the hurt, the plain and simple isolation that had been hovering all night overwhelmed her. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Jacob had already been way too nice. He didn’t deserve an overwrought female.

  “It’s okay.” She heard the quick concern in his voice. “We can get this tire off, too, and take both of them to get fixed.”

  It was the kindness that did it. Suddenly, Celie couldn’t stop the tears. Swiping at them furiously, she stood with one arm clutched against her waist, the other covering her face.

  Jacob fought back the jump of mild panic as he watched her shoulders shake. Tires, he could take care of. Tears? He didn’t know where to start. He knew about being alone, he should respect her obvious desire to get through this herself. And then he uttered a soft oath. Forget alone; he thought and reached out to fold her stiff body against him.

  It shocked him, how small she was. There was so much energy to her that even though he’d stood next to her, it had never really registered. He felt the grim anger deepen. Someone had done this to her. He was going to find out who.

  And they were going to regret it.

  Now, though, he just held her close and stroked her back, feeling the tense muscles relax as she let herself weep. “It’ll be okay,” Jacob leaned down to murmur to her, his face close enough to the top of her head that he could have pressed a kiss on the dark curls of her hair. He could smell the faint scent of her, so subtle it was barely there, something that had him thinking of sunlit clearings. For now, it was just enough to hold her until the storm passed. The minutes slipped by. Neither of them noticed. It didn’t matter.

  Celie stirred against him and sighed. And suddenly the need to comfort morphed into the utter awareness of the feel of her body in his arms. Despite his efforts to keep her at a distance, she was here, pressed against him and he couldn’t help but feel it. His movements hadn’t changed but somehow the absent strokes of reassurance had turned into caresses.

  She looked up at him, eyes dark, lips inches away from his own. They tempted him to taste, to lean in and find out just how soft and sweet they were. It was her eyes that were the problem, though, so dark and so deep a man could lose his good sense in them. Eyes that could keep him staring down at her like some moony high-school kid. And if he held her against him for one more second, his body was going to embarrass him.

  He released her abruptly and moved away. “Come on, it’s freezing out here. Let’s get you into my truck and home.”

  Celie blinked. “What about the tires?”

  “Give me your keys. Go sit in my truck and I’ll take care of them.”

  She raised her chin at that. “I don’t need taking care of.”

  “Humor me,” he said shortly. “You can be a tough guy tomorrow.” He held out his hand. After a brief hesitation, she dropped her keys into his palm.

  Celie sat in the cab and watched Jacob, her feelings completely jumbled. For a few moments, she’d felt cared for, protected, safe. For a few moments, he’d held all the feelings of isolation at bay. And then comfort had somehow shifted to desire. Nestled against him, she’d felt the hard, rangy strength of his body. She’d felt the change in the touch of his hands. She’d seen the desire in his eyes.

  He wasn’t going to push her away again, she thought, watching him over by her truck. Not this time….

  The work might have kept Jacob’s hands busy but it didn’t do a thing to distract him. The moment just kept playing over and over again in his mind. If he could just forget the way it had felt to hold her, he could convince his body it was all over. Instead, he thought of the heat of her against him, the look in her eyes. He thought of just how easy it would have been to have bent down just a bit more and kissed her.

  He threw down the tire iron bad-temperedly. But when he got into his truck, her scent was the first thing he noticed.

  Celie stirred. “Where are we going to take the tires?”

  “There’s a twenty-four-hour truck stop on the highway through Montpelier. It’s not far.” He started his engine, trying not to look at her.

  “Jacob, it’s nine-thirty at night.”

  He let out his parking brake. “Then I guess we’d better get going.”

  She’d forgotten to leave on the outside light, Celie realized as Jacob pulled into Marce’s drive.

  He eyed the dark house. “So is your porch light burned out or do you just like a challenge?”

  “I spaced on it. This is my friend Marce’s house. She usually turns on the light and all but she’s gone this weekend.”

  Jacob turned off the truck and opened his door. “I’ll walk you up.” He reached behind his seat and produced a flashlight.

  Cared for, protected, safe. There was an intimacy to walking up the narrow path with him. Somehow, not touching made her more aware of him than ever, the measured footfalls, the care he took to reach past her and light their way. When they reached the front steps, he trained the flashlight on the door for her to find the keyhole. It seemed natural that after she’d opened it, he’d step inside to help her with the switches she’d yet to learn. She was sorry when the light came on.

  “Looks like you’re all set now.”

  “Do you want some coffee or something?”

  Jacob shook his head. “No, I’ll get out of your hair.” Before he did something he’d regret.

  Celie hesitated, then leaned in to give him a quick hug that had him stiffening.

  “I can’t thank you enough for what you did tonight. I’m sorry I got upset.” She looked up at him, eyes sober. “Thank you for being so nice.”

  “Everyone hits their limit sometime. I’m just glad I could help.” And he needed to get out of there and soon because he was looking at her mouth and her eyes and leaning toward her, and he knew he was full of crap with the Good Samaritan stuff because all he’d wanted, all he’d thought about since the first moment he’d seen her was the way she’d feel and the way her lips would taste under his.

  And he was damned if he was going to leave without finding out.

  The kiss took them both by surprise so that at first there was just the touch of lip to lip. It was contact, but nothing more. Soft, warm even after the night air, there was something inviting about the feel of her mouth. But it wasn’t enough. It tantalized more than it satisfied, and as the scent of her rose up around him, he stepped in to pull her against him.

  And then her lips parted.

  It made him reel, the feel of her mouth alive under his. As elusive as her scent, her flavor kept him tasting. Sweet with a little something more, a hint of spice. Then she made a little noise deep in her throat, and he felt the desire rip through him.

  Celie caught her breath. Who’d have
guessed that such a rugged-looking man would have lips so soft? He might have kept himself isolated, but he knew how to kiss a woman, oh, he knew how to kiss. The brush of lip, a nip to tease and then the lush stroke of tongue that set up answering demands in her body.

  She wanted more. She wanted to get through the layers of heavy winter clothing to find him, really find him. She wanted to get past the distance and down to the essential Jacob, underneath all the layers he used to protect himself.

  Impatiently, she stepped back and slipped off her parka. Then she moved in to slide her arms under his open coat to drag them both deeper, feverishly intent on discovering more.

  And when his arms tightened around her, she did.

  Taste, smell, touch, he was all around her with an immediacy that neither of them could deny. This was Jacob, rough, gruff Jacob who shied from connection with anyone. Jacob, who kept walls around himself to preserve his own private world. But now he’d opened it up to her, and the richness inside was beyond anything she’d imagined.

  Jacob groaned softly at the feel of Celie against him. Time had passed since he’d last tasted a woman, but he’d never had his senses overwhelmed like this. A mere touch had never made him drop the barriers. A mere kiss had never dragged him into red-hazed wanting. And all he cared about was more, all he wanted was Celie, naked against him in his bed for long hours while they discovered each other.

  All he needed was her.

  Blinking in shock, he broke the kiss.

  “What’s wrong?” Celie asked blankly.

  He straightened, not looking at her. “It’s late, I should go.” It wasn’t what you said to a woman when you’d been halfway to ripping her clothes off, but he had no clue what the right words were. Thanks? Let’s do it again? He opened the door. “I’ll be back over tomorrow morning at seven to get you to your truck,” he said, and escaped.

  The night air outside was chill. He needed it. He needed to get his equilibrium back because he’d gotten way out of hand. Forget that she’d been kissing him back. Right now, she was feeling vulnerable. It was the wrong time for this. And maybe it would always be the wrong time because it was becoming clear that when it came to Celie Favreau, he was pretty damned vulnerable himself. She’d somehow slashed through the distance he kept himself surrounded with, making him want things he shouldn’t want. Making him need her, which was foolish. More than foolish. Dangerous.

  Because eventually, inevitably, she was going to be assigned elsewhere.

  Eventually, she was going to leave.

  Chapter Seven

  Celie was a fan of the unpredictable. She liked surprises. She liked different. Different was good.

  Usually.

  Having a man kiss her senseless out of the blue and then walk away before she’d even caught her breath was certainly different. Good? Not exactly. She’d never use the word good to describe the kiss. Stupendous, mind-blowing, world-rocking, yes. Good didn’t quite cover it. And the way he’d left…

  The way he’d left, he’d looked downright ticked.

  She couldn’t figure it out. She couldn’t figure him out. For a man with a reputation for being a predictable grump, Jacob Trask was full of surprises. Kind about her tires, unexpectedly sweet instead of awkward in the face of her tears. Chivalrous at the house, and then springing that kiss on her. And what a kiss. Even thinking about it still gave her little butterflies.

  But why he’d be pissed off after, she hadn’t a clue. It had been his idea, and she knew enough about men to be sure he’d enjoyed it. He’d been as good as his word and shown up at seven to collect her that morning, even if he’d barely said a word to her. Could have been lack of coffee.

  Not.

  So what was going on?

  Celie cleared her throat. “You’re chatty this morning.”

  Jacob just shot her a look from under his brows.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “I thought maybe you were uncomfortable because we—”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Because if you wanted to talk about it—”

  “I don’t.”

  “Okay. I guess you’re fine.”

  He shot her another look.

  So maybe she’d take that for the time being, but it certainly wasn’t the end of things.

  Jacob turned off the highway to the school, and she threw him a sidelong look of her own. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like oh, say, the tires?”

  Then he pulled into the parking lot and stopped beside her truck, which sat there on a pair of gleaming new radials.

  Celie stared. “I guess you got the tires. They couldn’t fix them, huh?” It had been a long shot, but she’d still hoped for that the previous night even as she’d picked out the just-in-case replacements.

  “Nope. I told them to put on the new ones.”

  And got up early enough to collect the wheels, drive to the school and put them on, all before coming to get her. A person would think he was trying to stay away from her. She felt a little surge of irritation. “Well, thanks, but you didn’t need to do that. You should have left it for me.”

  “I had to pass by on the way to get you. It was more efficient.”

  “Efficient.” She nodded her head meditatively. “And here I thought you were just avoiding me.”

  He did look at her then, and she caught the glint of humor in his eyes. “You’re not that scary.”

  “Good. Then you’ll let me take you to breakfast as a thank-you. What do I owe you, by the way?”

  “We can worry about it later.” Jacob dug through his pockets, handing her the receipt. “It’s on my card.”

  He’d barely talk to her, but he’d go out of pocket three or four hundred bucks for her. It didn’t make sense. “So where do you want to go for breakfast, Hank’s?”

  His look was pitying. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

  “Sure I have.” But always as an outsider, never as someone who belonged. “What’s the problem?”

  “Saturday morning. Us. Having breakfast.”

  “What, are they going to assume we’re having deviant sex because we’re having breakfast?”

  He missed a beat before he answered. “They’ll assume something.”

  And she couldn’t really make herself mind, though it would probably give Gavin heartburn. “Are you worried about my reputation?”

  “Maybe I’m worried about mine.”

  “It is a risk. After all, how can you stay on as town curmudgeon if you’re seen out on a social occasion?”

  “You see the problem.”

  Celie opened the door. “Well, then, you’ll have to come back to Marce’s house and let me cook.”

  “You don’t need to feed me breakfast. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is to me. You’ve spent time on this and fronted me money. I’m not going to feel right unless I say thank you.”

  “You’ve just said it.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He folded his arms and looked her up and down. “You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “Nope.” She folded her arms to mimic him. “It’s either Hank’s or Marce’s, assuming no one’s seen us together already, in which case hara-kiri might be the only answer.”

  “And me with no ceremonial sword.”

  She grinned. “Then I guess you’re stuck.”

  Celie slid a plate in front of Jacob. “One breakfast special.”

  “And then some. I would have settled for eggs,” Jacob said, looking over the pancakes and bacon.

  “They were big tires. I even have genuine Vermont maple syrup, grade A amber.”

  Jacob scowled as he read the label. “You’re serving Franklin County syrup to a Washington County sugar-maker?”

  “Don’t be so sensitive,” Celie told him as she sat down with her own plate. “Marce works at the Institute. She can’t pla
y favorites so she has to buy out of the area.” She watched Jacob pour some of the syrup into his empty glass and study it. “That was for orange juice, you know.”

  He glanced up at her. “Sorry. The Franklin County folks always take all the syrup awards.” He raised the glass and squinted at it. “I just wanted to get a look at their clarity.”

  “You sound like you’re talking about diamonds,” she said, amused.

  “I don’t make my living from diamonds.” He poured the syrup over his pancakes and took a bite.

  She watched him. “How is it?”

  “Not bad. Pretty good, actually. Could be the pancakes, though.” He went through a couple more bites. “Yeah, definitely the pancakes. Are there any more of these?”

  Celie raised an eyebrow. “With all that, you want more?”

  “Like you said, they were big tires.”

  “I don’t know, if you want more pancakes, it seems like I should get something in return.”

  “What? If we’re going for strict accounting, you’re still behind because we’ve already fed you at the Trask Farm.”

  “Your mother fed me,” she corrected.

  “Practically the same thing.”

  “Nice try. But that’s okay. I’m not asking you to cook for me. I want to hear you play guitar.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Can you pass me the pancakes, please?”

  Celie lifted up the platter and held it to one side. “Not until you promise to play for me.”

  “Forget it. I’ll just take the bacon.”

  “You are going to play for me one of these days, you know.” She gave up and passed him the platter.

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “Come on, it would be fun. Don’t you get sick of just playing for an empty room all the time?”

  “Nope. That’s the way I like it.”

  That she could believe. “Surely you must have done a song or two for your family, at least.”

  “My mother once or twice when she wouldn’t leave me alone. As a kid, I mostly played in one of the top-floor rooms.”