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by Elizabeth Hunter

  “Three hundred pages of what?”

  “Jane Austen.”

  Ox shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple days? I’ve already read them all though. My mom made me.”

  “Sense and Sensibility?” Emmie asked.

  “Colonel Brandon’s the man,” Ox said. “But Edward is boring as shit.” He nodded toward the door. “Customer.”

  Emmie hopped up and slipped out the door, but Ox grabbed her hand before she could make it down the hall. He pulled her back, tilted her chin up, and kissed her quickly before he let her go.

  “Been wanting to do that all day,” he said quietly.

  The kiss sent a buzz of energy through her, but Emmie turned and walked down the hallway without a word. She had a customer. Ox wasn’t her boyfriend. Was he?

  If he wasn’t her boyfriend, what was he?

  She had no idea. Was this just a hookup for him? They hadn’t defined anything. Did he even believe in monogamy? That wasn’t something she’d been able to assume in San Francisco. Of course, this was Metlin, which was still pretty traditional.

  But Metlin had changed! Maybe monogamy wasn’t a given anymore.

  Was there an alternative-relationship scene in Metlin?

  Is this what Ox would classify as “freaking the fuck out?”

  The young woman standing in the shop had a clutch of mysteries under her arm and was staring at the biography section.

  “Hi,” Emmie said. “Did you have any questions about a book?”

  “A couple, actually.”

  “Thank God.”

  She closed up her side of INK at seven p.m., leaving Ox with two clients, one in the chair and the other waiting. She ate dinner in front of her iPad, watched reruns of Doctor Who, and ignored the voices below her. Sometime around eleven, she nodded off on the couch only to wake to a sharp rap on her door.

  Emmie sat up, rubbing her eyes and wondering why Tayla was knocking. She must have forgotten her key again.

  “Who is rapping, rapping on my chamber door?” Emmie unpinned the crooked bun on top of her head as she pulled open the door. “Tayla, you’ve got to stop…” Emmie’s eyes went wide. “Hi.”

  It was Ox. “Caw.” He tilted his head and stepped into her apartment, putting a hand on her hip. “I should put a raven on you somewhere. Maybe here?” He squeezed her hip. “That would be hot.”

  Good God, he understood Poe references and was talking about putting a tattoo needle on her hip.

  Marry me. “Or kiss me.” Emmie blinked. “I said that aloud.”

  Ox smiled. “Yes, you did.” He walked her backward to the living area and spun around, sitting on the couch and pulling Emmie into his lap. “This is my new favorite make-out position.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, this way I don’t get an ache in my neck when I kiss you.” He leaned in and demonstrated. “See?”

  She saw. She saw a little cross-eyed, but she saw. “It’s late. Are you heading home?”

  “Yeah, but I just finished and I wanted to say good night. Were you sleeping?”

  She nodded. “I’m an old lady.”

  “We had a late night yesterday.” He played with the ends of her hair. “This is nice.”

  “What?”

  “Your hair down. You don’t wear it down very much.”

  “It’s gotten really long. I’ve been thinking about cutting it.”

  “Don’t.” He smoothed the red-brown waves down her back, playing with the ends that fell just at the small of her back. “It’s sexy as fuck.” Ox nosed under her chin and played his lips over her neck. “You smell good.”

  “I smell like dust and paper. I was sorting the used section.”

  “Whatever.” He scraped his teeth along her collarbone. “It smells good.”

  Emmie shivered. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her, sucking on her bottom lip. “Were you freaking out today?”

  “A little.”

  “Where are we going on our first date?”

  “I don’t know.” Emmie could barely think. He was doing it again. Distracting her. Seducing her. His warm hands were playing with her hair, twisting the weight of it in his hand and pulling her head back to expose her throat. “We could… could go to dinner.”

  “Boring. No movies either unless we watch them here and I can kiss you during the boring parts.”

  Emmie smiled and put her hands on his cheeks, pulling his face up to meet his eyes. “So what do you want to do?”

  “I want… to go for a hike. Or go riding. Do you ride?”

  “Horses or motorcycles?”

  “Horses.”

  Emmie shook her head. “I don’t hike either.”

  Ox frowned. “Do you walk?”

  “Not often in a straight line. Hence no hiking.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll hold your hand. Come hiking with me. We can do something simple.”

  “It’s cold in the mountains.”

  He hitched her closer and pressed their bodies together. “Don’t you trust me to keep you warm?”

  Emmie could barely talk. She nodded and Ox kissed her again. He stroked her lips with leisurely attention, his kiss lazy and indulgent. She could hear him humming in the back of his throat, and her thighs clenched around his hips.

  “Hiking it is. Your next day off. If I have any clients, I’ll reschedule them.” Ox slipped his large hands in the back pockets of her jeans and squeezed. “I like your ass.”

  Emmie smiled. “It’s big.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I just mean in proportion to the rest of me, it’s kind of—”

  “Emmie.” Ox pulled away and looked at her with deadly serious eyes. “There is no such thing as an ass too big. It’s very important you understand that.” He squeezed again for emphasis.

  She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. “I understand.”

  “Good.” He slapped her butt teasingly. “I’d hate to have to repeat this discussion.”

  “Liar.” Emmie draped her arms over his shoulders, relaxing against him. “You’d love to repeat this discussion.”

  “Caught me.” One hand stayed on her ass while the other slid up the side of her body, cupping her breast in his hand. “We could always try variations.” His thumb swept over her nipple.

  Emmie’s mouth fell open. “I’d hate for you to get bored.”

  “Not possible.” He pulled back, and Emmie opened her eyes.

  The look in his gaze told her too much. It was raw and a little confused. The confidence had fallen away, and Ox looked at her with a focused intensity that scared Emmie to death.

  He blinked. “Tell me you’re staying in Metlin.”

  “I reopened the shop, didn’t I?”

  “That’s not a yes.”

  A tiny part of her hesitated. In the back of her mind, Adrian’s offer still hung. He could rent out the building, find her solid tenants that would allow her to choose a different line of work. She could sell the building and move anywhere she wanted. Did she really want to stay in Metlin for the rest of her life?

  Ox rested a hand at the base of her throat. “Are you staying?”

  “Yes.” Had she said that out loud?

  “Good.” He fell on her mouth with a hunger so intense it took her breath away.

  Emmie pulled at his T-shirt, yanking it up and over his head so she could put her hands on him. Her fingers skimmed over his shoulders, down his chest, scratching at the hard points of his nipples before her fingernails trailed down his abdomen. Ox didn’t let her up to breathe. He shifted until her hand fell on the swell of his erection beneath his jeans. She stroked over the button fly and he hissed, grabbing her wrist and holding it there as he arched into her hand.

  He groaned and fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her head back as he scraped his teeth along her jaw. “Sweet,” he muttered. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

  “Ox.”

  He arched into her hand agai
n, holding her palm pressed to his jeans for a searing moment before he brushed her hand away and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You know it’s killing me to wait.”

  “So don’t.” Emmie’s need was as raging as his even if it wasn’t as evident.

  “But it’s gonna be so good,” he whispered, biting her earlobe. “Want to know why?”

  Emmie dug her fingers into his chest and gripped his thighs between her own. “Why?”

  “Because you have a very good imagination.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  He was cursing his sister as he and Emmie made their way up the gently sloping trail on Monday morning. He’d had days and days of teasing Emmie with no relief for him or her. He was trying to follow his big sister’s advice for once, and it was damn near killing him as he watched Emmie’s excellent ass sway in front of him. She was wearing jeans that hugged her hips, a long-sleeved thermal, and a heavy padded vest to ward off the bite of winter that was already descending in the mountains.

  “Just do me a favor,” Melissa said. “Don’t sleep with this one right away. Just try it for once and see what happens.”

  “Sexual chemistry is important. If we’re not compatible—”

  “Be honest. Do you really think you and Emmie might not have chemistry?”

  He hadn’t had an answer to that one. It was pretty obvious to everyone around them that they did.

  “Just take your time and get to know her first. Sex is awesome, but it can cloud everything up. If you really like this woman, then spend some time getting to know her outside of bed, Ox. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

  It better be fucking worth it. He wanted to pull Emmie off the trail, shove her against a tree, drag her jeans down her legs and—

  “What is that?” Emmie pointed at something off the deserted trail.

  Ox paused at her side. “The pinecone?”

  “It’s as big as my arm!”

  Ox grabbed it from the bushes. “It’s a sugar pine cone.” He held it up. It was a giant cone and nearly perfect. Ox placed it on a fallen log on the side of the path. “The squirrels need it. Winter’ll be here soon.”

  “Is that why most of them are all torn up?” Emmie kicked a shredded cone with her foot. “Squirrels?”

  “Yep. They eat the seeds.”

  “I’ve never seen a pinecone that big.” Emmie took it and held it up. “Are sequoia pinecones huge like that?”

  Ox smothered a smile. “Well, sequoias aren’t pines. So they’re called sequoia cones, not pinecones. And you really didn’t spend any time in the mountains as a kid, did you?”

  Emmie shook her head and put the cone back on the log, brushing her hand off on her jeans. “Bookworm. I didn’t like the outdoors, and my mom was always playing gigs. My grandma was running the shop. We didn’t do mountains.”

  “Tragic.” He grabbed her hand. “But we will remedy that.”

  “My thighs are killing me.”

  “You’re doing great.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re a natural. Once I got you looking up from the book, you haven’t tripped once.”

  “That guide book was really good. It had all sorts of stuff about the history of the national park and the conservation efforts that—”

  “But you would have missed that sugar pine cone the size of your arm if you hadn’t been looking.” He shook her arm. “Right?”

  She sighed and kept walking. “I’ll read more later. I need to expand the outdoor section of the shop. I had a tourist in last week asking about hiking maps for the national park.”

  They walked along the wide path for a few hundred yards, enjoying the silence and occasionally passing a fellow hiker, but for the most part the trail was deserted. Summer in the Sierras was crowded with tourists from all over the world, but in the fall and winter, most traffic died off. If they were lucky, the rain and snow would come early, and cut off much of the Sierra Nevada from casual visitors. The valley below depended on heavy falls of snow in the mountains to feed the lakes and rivers the farmers and ranchers would need for the hot, dry summers. It was a cycle Ox had grown up watching even if he had no desire to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.

  The rhythm of their footfalls was muffled by the thick layer of pine needles on the trail. Ferns and underbrush burst from the forest floor as they approached a grove of giant sequoias. It was one of Ox’s favorites. Far from the paved trails of the national park, this area was visited by locals more than outsiders.

  He watched Emmie as they approached. Her face turned from interest to wonder as they grew nearer.

  “Are those…?” Her smile grew. “Wow.” Her eyes went up. And up. And up. “Wow!”

  Ox drew her into the center of the sequoia grove where a fire-scarred monarch dominated the clearing, surrounded by other mature sequoias. Light filtered through the tall branches above as Emmie wandered through the clearing, and Ox spread a blanket at the base of the monarch, kicking away a few of the rocks so they could eat lunch at the foot of the tree. He set down his backpack and walked around the massive trunk to find Emmie leaning against the thick bark on the other side, looking up at the giant trees. Utter and complete wonder was written all over her face.

  “I’m in Narnia,” she whispered as he approached. “Middle Earth.”

  Ox didn’t say a word, but he sat at the base of the tree and drew Emmie down to sit between his legs. She rested her head on his chest and looked up, her eyes still locked on the giant trees surrounding them.

  They sat in silence as the sun warmed the bark at his back and Emmie warmed his chest. His arms were around her, her fingers knit with his. Neither of them broke the silence. They listened to the birds and the creaking of the branches above as they moved with the wind. A profound sense of peace fell over Ox, a peace that had eluded him since his grandfather’s death.

  I could stay here—right here, with this girl—for the rest of my life if I had a chance of putting that look on her face.

  His breath felt heavy in his chest as he bent down, placing a kiss on the top of Emmie’s head. She turned her face to the sun and laid her cheek over his heart, closing her eyes and letting the warmth kiss her skin. There were colors in her hair that reminded Ox of a campfire, red and gold threads that weren’t visible until the light hit them. She was little but sturdy, and the weight of her body against him was… satisfying. That was the word. He wrapped his arms around her more securely as she snuggled closer.

  This is what it feels like to fall in love.

  The realization was quiet and sure. This was what it felt like to fall in love. It wasn’t the lightning strike he’d been expecting. It wasn’t the big dramatic moment. It was this. This… solid feeling that crept into his chest like a root. Ox looked at the trees around him, thinking about the giant trees around them secured by such shallow roots. Sequoias grew on granite bedrock. Their roots couldn’t sink deep, so they spread wide. They couldn’t exist on their own. They grew in groves so their roots could spread out and tangle together, holding the whole grove up through centuries of fire and snow and wind and flood.

  Groves were family.

  He had family. He had a great family even if the responsibility for them weighed heavy at times.

  Emmie didn’t have family though. How many years had she been standing alone? For most of her childhood, she was the responsible one holding her family together. Her idealistic grandmother. Her loving but flighty mother. Was it any wonder she looked for respect and dependability and routine? Was it a surprise she had a tendency to freak out at the unexpected?

  The trust she’d placed in him—and his business—humbled him.

  He ran a finger over her cheek until Emmie’s eyes fluttered open. Without a word, he bent down and took her mouth in a soft kiss. Emmie turned and put her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. He sank into it, tasting the sweet peppermint gum she’d offered him earlier. He unbraided her hair and ran his fingers through the waves while her mouth drove him crazy.

  He tr
ailed his fingers down her spine until his hand landed in his favorite spot. He palmed the curve of her ass, pressing her closer as he made love to her mouth.

  Fuck yes, this was why his sister had told him to wait. He wouldn’t have missed the thrill of this slow fall for all the money in the world.

  Emmie seduced him with her silence. He was intoxicated by her. He wanted to learn all her secrets and knew he never would. She drove him crazy and she didn’t even try. It was beautiful and addicting, and he couldn’t imagine ever getting enough.

  Ox wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and walked back to the blanket he’d spread out.

  Maybe he wanted to wait for the full meal, but they both needed a little taste.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ox rolled the stool from his corner, pushing across the room, and spun behind her counter. The only customer had just walked out of the shop when he lifted Emmie’s shirt, stuck his head under it, and nipped at her belly.

  Emmie muffled a laugh and shoved him back. “Stop!”

  “No.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You know, sex in the forest is on my to-do list.”

  Her face heated up. “We did not have sex in the forest.”

  “But what we did do gave me hope. I’m holding on to it.” He pushed away and rolled back to his corner just as another customer walked past, paused at her display window for holiday cookbooks, and reached for the door.

  “Hi!” Emmie said. “Can I help you?”

  She’d collaborated with Pacific Kitchen Supply a block down Main Street to showcase some of their brightly colored enamel kitchenware in the window with some of the new cookbooks she’d ordered. So far the display had been successful for both shops. The window drew a lot of customers into the bookstore, many of whom asked where Pacific Kitchen Supply was after they noticed the shop’s sign in Emmie’s window.

  The customer said, “I was looking at that new vegetarian holiday cookbook in the window. Do you have other copies of it?”

  “I sure do. Let me show you our vegetarian section.”

  Emmie had sold three cookbooks after story hour that morning. Daisy had walked down from Café Maya to do a reading of Too Many Tamales by Gary Soto and invite the parents and kids to the tamale-making workshop she was hosting in the café the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Emmie had sold more than a few copies of Too Many Tamales too.