Loving a Wildflower

by Amanda Torrey

“So are you.”

  He scoffed.

  “Ethan. You are. I knew that from the very first moment I met you.”

  “You did, huh? You mean when I was pointing a gun at you? Treating you like dirt? You didn’t deserve that.”

  “You didn’t deserve what was done to you.”

  His eyes clouded over, so she wiggled her hips to bring him back to the present. A spark ignited between them and in his eyes.

  “You’re crazy.”

  She stiffened as his words hit too close to the reality of what she’d been recently struggling with.

  He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the forehead, then the cheek, then planted a chaste kiss on her lips that sent jolts of fire directly to her lower region.

  “Crazy in the best possible way.”

  She grabbed his head and kissed him with every passionate bit she could muster. Didn’t have to dig too deep—he inspired mega intensity and fervor.

  After several moments and a whole lot of wishing they were naked, he pulled away, smoothing her hair as he stared at her moist lips.

  “I want you to stay the night.”

  If he had told her he was part dragon, she would have been less shocked. Heck, he was hot enough to breathe fire.

  “Will you?”

  She nodded, slipping her hands under his suit jacket and into the waistband of his pants.

  He removed her hands as soon as she had finally found his warm butt cheeks.

  “We won’t be doing any of that.”

  “Why?” Shocked at her high pitch, she cleared her voice and lowered the tone. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He wasn’t the type to laugh, at least not around her, but she swore she watched a comedy show playing in his eyes and facial features. He quickly relaxed the creases around his eyes.

  “I want to show you that I can be a gentleman.”

  “A bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  He kissed her nose again.

  “You have an adorable nose.”

  “You have adorable everything.” She meant it, too.

  “Yeah, these scars are the newest trend in cover models. Wait until you see all the guys in Hollywood sporting the tortured warrior look.”

  “Did Ethan Witherford just make a joke?” She tickled his sides. He gripped her hands. His expression melted her insides. “You know, not all scars can be seen from the outside.”

  “Can’t say I don’t envy those who carry theirs where they can’t be seen.”

  She looked away.

  “That was probably an asshole thing to say, right?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. She did not need to project her issues on him. She wouldn’t place that kind of burden on someone who carried a lifetime of his own.

  “You should come sledding with me.”

  She hadn’t meant to bring it up again—she had convinced herself to not pressure him. But she felt like something had shifted with them and, well, she hadn’t been able to stop the words from escaping.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’ll be fun.” She flopped onto her back as she described her plans, her mission, her goals. He listened but didn’t agree to join her.

  “I’ll write a check.”

  “I don’t want your money. I want your presence.”

  “I don’t do social things.”

  He clenched his teeth and his eyes hardened.

  “Don’t ask me to do things I can’t.” He glared at her, then closed his eyes and shook his head. When he reopened them, the glare was gone, replaced by a softly opened window into his soul. “Please.”

  She had to learn to let it go. How could she not when he asked so nicely?

  For the rest of the evening they stayed in bed. Not having sex. He loaned her one of his shirts to sleep in, even though she preferred to sleep in the nude. He had told her in a husky, deep voice that he would never be able to meet his goal of a sexless night if she were naked beside him.

  She had never had a more intimate night with anyone in her life.

  Chapter Eight

  “I’m worried about you, Simplicity.”

  Freedom dropped the pile of hospitality supplies onto the kitchen table and slumped into the chair. Simplicity loved the time they spent assembling Welcome Baskets for the guests, but she sensed that she wasn’t going to love this conversation.

  “Why? Because I’m happier than usual?”

  “The happiness I like, although you always seem happy to me. It’s the spiraling I worry about.”

  Simplicity looked up from the basket she was decorating.

  “I’m not spiraling. I’m excited. I found a new way to direct my creative energy. Something meaningful. Be happy for me.”

  Freedom reached across the table and grasped Simplicity’s hand, crushing the bright yellow flower under the weight of both of their hands.

  “I am happy. And worried.”

  “It’s not like last time.”

  “Promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling out of control?”

  “Of course.” Simplicity blew her hair out of her eyes, wishing Ethan were there to sweetly brush it away in that I’m-taking-care-of-you-and-pretending-that-I’m-not kind of way.

  “So tell me what’s next on your agenda to save the world.”

  “I’m not ready to conquer the world yet—that’s next year.” Simplicity laughed. She preferred this kind of discussion over the chastising one. “The sledding event is this weekend, which is perfect because we’re supposed to get some fresh snow and I think it will be just magical if there’s snowfall during the event.”

  “That would be nice. By the way, I forgot to tell you that since so many people decided to rent cottages for the night so they could turn it into a giant slumber party, I’ll be donating the proceeds from the rentals to your cause.”

  Freedom startled when Simplicity jumped up from her seat and squeezed her tight around the neck.

  “You’re too good to me.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  There was a smile in Freedom’s voice and she hugged Simplicity’s arms. Or maybe she was trying not to be strangled. Either way, emotion tightened Simplicity’s esophagus.

  “Did I tell you about my plan to bottle the water from the Springs and sell it to benefit the foundation? We can market it as a heartbreak cure.”

  “Oh, so it’s a foundation now?”

  “Will be. As soon as I figure out how to make that happen.”

  “You have big plans. Please take it slow.”

  “I have two speeds, Freedom, and slow isn’t one of them.”

  Freedom shook her head and began separating the soaps and lotions and chocolates into various piles as Simplicity resumed her weaving.

  “Can we take a minute to talk about this guy you’ve been spending so much time with?”

  Simplicity didn’t need a mirror to show her that her face had turned dreamy. She could feel it with every nerve ending and bit of space she occupied.

  “Ethan. His name is Ethan.”

  “When will I get to meet this Ethan?”

  Simplicity bit the inside of her cheek.

  “I don’t know. That’s the complicated part.”

  “Simplicity, it shouldn’t be complicated for a guy you’re in a relationship with to meet your family. Or to be seen with you in public. I really don’t get what you see in him. He’s practically a hermit, and anti-social even when he’s among the people. I can’t imagine that he has much to offer you, other than a one way ticket off an emotional cliff.”

  Simplicity slammed her flower onto the table.

  “That’s cruel, Freedom. You don’t know him. No one in this town knows him. All you see is what you want to see. I see more. I see the real him.”

  Simplicity hated the way Freedom’s eyes filled with pity. The way she clamped her jaw shut to stop herself from telling Simplicity what she thought of Simplicity’s thoughts and feelings. The way she looked away and busied herself with h
er work so she wouldn’t have to engage in conflict.

  Yet she made her opinions loud and clear without uttering another word.

  No matter what Freedom or anyone else thought, Simplicity would do what she thought best. She loved her sister, but Simplicity had to follow her own intuition—even if it led her down a dark alley in a thin nightgown when there was a killer on the loose.

  ***

  “What can I do to help?”

  Simplicity directed the small team of volunteers who had gathered to help her set things up. She assigned each of them a station—admissions booth, sled rental, hot cocoa stand, bake sale table, bonfire. The local cheerleading team had begged to help, desperate for community service hours. They’d be cheering near the luge track and also carrying around snowman tins to collect donations.

  Rogan’s son, Dylan, had come up with a plan to hold a snowman building contest with an entry fee. Simplicity had immediately fallen in love with the idea.

  Even the weather cooperated. Though the weather service had predicted a brutal Nor’Easter, it hadn’t struck yet.

  “I think we’re all set! Oh, who wants to assemble the National Honor Society students and show them how to direct the parking?”

  Harvey begrudgingly volunteered for that leadership position when it appeared that everyone else had a place to be. He had agreed to leave the beer at home for the night, but he wasn’t happy about it. Still, the fact that the entire Healing Springs team of Happy Helpers had come to help her with this event made her burst with pride and affection.

  She loved this town and everything it stood for.

  Simplicity was in manic Heaven as the cars began to pull in. A woman she didn’t even know surprised her by bringing a horse drawn sleigh to the event and asking if she could offer sleigh rides. Who would say no to that offer?

  She only wished Ethan were there to ride with her.

  Some fantasies weren’t meant to come true, and that was okay. It had to be okay. She wouldn’t be a very kind human being if she had a problem with respecting his wishes when he had so eloquently expressed his reasons for not wanting to attend.

  Simplicity made her rounds, checking each station to be sure everything was operating effectively.

  Smiles abounded. Kids of all ages had a blast zipping down the hill, and the luge track was hugely popular. She laughed as boys and men stuffed bills into the cheerleader’s tins and the girls flirted unabashedly in an effort to fill their tins before their friends.

  Simplicity didn’t discourage it. A little healthy competition never hurt.

  “Simplicity, do you have a minute? We have a customer who’s asking for you. I think he has a complaint or somethin’.”

  Rose’s text made Simplicity’s heart threaten to jump out of her chest and lunge itself at one of the snowmen the families were working on.

  A complaint?

  Who would complain over something as joyous as family winter fun? Didn’t they realize this was a fundraiser? For the children? For hungry children?

  She had worked herself into such a bundle of anxious energy by the time she huffed her boots to the hot cocoa stand that she was ready to do battle.

  As she approached, Rose gestured toward the customer in question.

  Simplicity’s heart started thumping to a new rhythm when the guy turned around and revealed himself.

  “Ethan!” Simplicity didn’t care that she squealed, and she also didn’t care that everyone watched as she threw her arms around his hooded neck.

  He came. He really came.

  He had told her he wouldn’t. But he did.

  She knew he hadn’t come for himself—this wasn’t his idea of fun.

  He had done this for her.

  Ethan wrapped his arms around her waist, staring intently into her eyes. He didn’t smile, but his ever-present frown must have taken the night off.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”

  He responded by kissing her, keeping his eyes open. She kept hers open, too, not wanting to miss the sparks that danced around his pupils.

  “Rose, if I have one of the girls cover your station, would you mind taking my place and doing the rounds for me so I can give Mr. Witherford a private tour of the event?”

  “By all means, girlfriend. Knock yourself out.”

  Rose winked at her as Ethan bent his shaking head, looking somewhat embarrassed.

  “Ready, Mr. Witherford? What can I show you first?”

  He didn’t answer, just licked his bottom lip and stared at her.

  “Okay, I sense that you want to dive right in with a sled ride. Hill or luge track?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  He sounded like he had offered her his life. Sincerity deepened his already deep vocals, making her toes curl in her boots and a river of desire to flow through her blood stream, taunting every already over-stimulated nerve and hair follicle.

  She tried to respond, but she had to clear her throat first. A hint of humor lit his eyes. He knew how he affected her.

  “Since I can’t leave my own fundraiser, I think we should stick to the slopes.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She held his hand and dragged him toward the fluffy snow hill. As she spoke to the volunteer manning the sled rental booth, Ethan tapped her on the hip.

  “Look. It’s snowing.”

  She lifted her face to the sky, delighted that the snow finally decided to fall.

  “Just like you wanted.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I caught that snowflake.”

  She wished he’d catch snowflakes off the rest of her body.

  She didn’t remember sharing with him her deep desire for a snow to fall during the event, but he clearly had been listening to her incessant babbling.

  “Pure magic.” She wasn’t talking about just the snowfall.

  The young lady in charge of the sleds asked, “Should I add the cost to your tab, Simplicity?”

  “I’ve got it,” Ethan said, reaching into his pocket.

  He handed over a one hundred dollar bill.

  “I’m not sure I have enough change.” The girl rifled through the wadded up dollar bills in the disorganized cash box.

  “No change necessary.”

  Simplicity gasped and grabbed his arm. “Ethan, that’s too much.”

  “You’ve been telling me for weeks how important this thing is. Are you going to turn down donations?”

  “Of course not.”

  Ethan grabbed the sled from the cashier and took Simplicity’s hand. Even through her mitten, his warmth threatened to burn her. In all the right ways.

  Simplicity leaned into him so he could hear her whisper, “I’ll have to pay you back later.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “Our turn.”

  He held the sled still while she positioned herself, then climbed aboard and wrapped his legs around hers. She settled into him, shocked at not only how comfortable she felt, but also how… safe.

  Definitely a new feeling for her in a relationship.

  Using one of his legs, he pushed them over the crest of the hill. She couldn’t contain her screeches of delight, and she wished she could see his face as they wooshed through the magical, sparkly snow and down the hill. She knew he’d be smiling. How could he not?

  They nearly flipped at the bottom of the hill, so Ethan tightened his grip on her and shifted their bodies until they balanced the sled.

  She couldn’t help but pant her exhilaration as she jumped off the sled, grabbing his hand to help him up.

  “I made it harder, didn’t I?” she asked as he nearly fell in the snow. Sure, he could have risen on his own, but she couldn’t go two seconds without touching him.

  He pulled her to him, dragging her behind a grouping of trees. He pressed his hips into hers.

  “You sure did,” he muttered, and she knew he wasn’t talking about getting off the sled anymore.

  She slapped his arm half-heartedly.

  “You kn
ow what I meant.” She licked her lips as she stared at his, amazed to see the hint of a smile at the corners. “Thank you for coming. Here, I mean.”

  He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. He said it all when he showed up here in spite of his reservations.

  “What do you want to do next?” Her voice was a whisper, a butterfly landing tentatively on the nose of a pit bull, knowing full well the dog could rip it to shreds, but somehow trusting that he was a harmless, gentle spirit.

  “You’re in charge,” Ethan said, rubbing his cold nose against hers.

  She giggled.

  “Oh yeah. As if.”

  “You’re always in charge.” His tone was serious and low, but he didn’t sound upset by his words. “Probably better that way. I have a long history of screwing things up when I’m in charge.”

  “Join the club.” Simplicity smiled and nibbled on his jaw. “Just think of the havoc we can wreak in this town together.”

  She kissed him so he wouldn’t have to think of responding. She knew he tried to do the conversational thing for her benefit, but she wanted to make things as simple as possible for him. She owed him that much.

  “I have to get back to the event before Freedom sends a search party and asks them to bring my head for her to mount on her wall.”

  “I’d protect you.”

  There was not a trace of joviality in his voice, only a level of conviction that sent an explosive tremor under her warm clothes. She had no doubt that he’d protect her with his life.

  “I’d protect you, too.” She meant it.

  She didn’t like the way his eyes hardened at her words, nor did she care for the way he pulled away—first emotionally, then physically. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and started walking toward the main area.

  What had she done wrong?

  She didn’t attempt to speak during the freezing cold walk back. The snow suddenly felt less magical, and by the time they reached the hub of activity, the snow had stopped falling altogether.

  “Build a snowman with me?”

  Ethan hesitated, looking back and forth between her and the snow building area.

  Finally, he shrugged.

  He seemed to relax as she linked her arm through his, but she felt him tense as they approached the crowded area. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should have led him somewhere less busy.