by Isabel North
His large hand clenched on the tub. For a moment she thought he was going to pop the lid clean off. “It’s for gargoyle,” he said, held her gaze for one more intense moment, then stormed off.
Elle watched him go.
Did he just say it was for his gargoyle?
He turned at the end of the aisle and was gone.
Elle looked back into the freezer, which was making a high, whining sound at this point. She realized she—they—hadn’t closed the top. Ugh. Nothing else for it. She snatched up two tubs of vanilla, grabbed the largest bag of M&M’s she could find, added a can of squirty cream, and carted it all to the checkout.
“You okay?” said the store clerk when she unloaded her armful. “You’re a bit flushed.”
“I’m fine.” Elle swiped a piece of hair from her eyes. Shoot. Her forehead was damp. She was sweating. “Who was that guy?”
“What guy?”
“The one who was here before me? Bought the Chunky Monkey?”
“Right. Him. Don’t know the dude’s name but he’s local. Comes in every now and then.”
“Let me guess. Buys ice cream?”
“Yup.”
“Huh.”
The clerk rang up her purchases. Elle handed over a note and accepted the change. She jingled it in her hand for a moment, then stuffed it in her pocket. “I think…I think he said he needed the ice cream for his gargoyle. That’s weird, right?”
The guy blinked at her. “I dunno.”
“I mean…gargoyles aren’t real.”
“Oh, no. They’re real. Stone creatures typical of the Gothic architecture you find in medieval Europe.” He propped both elbows on the countertop. “Want to hear an interesting fact? They’re only real gargoyles if they act as a waterspout, you know, for drainage and stuff to protect the bricks. Otherwise, not a gargoyle. Just a weird-ass monster on the roof of a building. People make that mistake all the time.”
“Sure. I know that. I meant they’re not real as in they don’t need feeding. You don’t need to buy them ice cream, now, do you?”
“No. If they ate anything, you’d think it was, like, bugs and stuff. Right? Like, spiders. Beetles. I figure they’d only be able to eat what crawls right in their mouths.”
“Yeah.” Elle got a look at the guy’s pupils. Shit. He was high. She was having a serious conversation about gargoyles with a pothead teenager. He had an excuse. What the hell was hers? “I’m going to go.”
“See you.”
Elle shouldered her way out into the rain and ran for her car.
Alex got into his truck, tossed the ice cream on the seat beside him, and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. His knuckles stood out white even in the dim light of the cab.
Elizabeth Finley.
Elle Finley.
Elle.
He turned his head to stare through the rain-speckled windshield, across the dark forecourt, through another layer of glass, and there she was, standing at the checkout talking to the clerk. Two sheets of glass and twenty feet between them. Couple of minutes ago, there’d been less. Jeans and sweaters and shirts. If she hadn’t broken away, at this point, there wouldn’t even be that.
It was a good thing she’d moved, because he really didn’t want to be arrested for making love to his long-lost muse in a gas station. And for sure they’d have wrecked the freezer.
He watched her dash out of the store, run to a dark blue Prius, and jump in. Then she was gone. He took a deep, harsh breath that sounded like a pant, and managed to release the wheel.
His gaze dropped to the ice cream and he blinked. Why the hell hadn’t he let her have the damn stuff? Could have said, Hey, Elle. Back in town? How’s it going? You good? What, you want the ice cream? Sure. Or we could share it. No, we don’t need spoons.
Yeah. That’d be smooth.
Let’s make it dessert. Come to my place. We’ll have dinner, ice cream, and soul-shattering sex. Sound good? Oh, yeah. Me, too.
See? That was better than fighting with her over the last tub of Chunky Monkey just because, as long as they were both holding it, he could get close to her.
He shuddered, hard and fast.
He hadn’t been that close to her since…since last time.
And unlike last time, he was the one to leave. Unlike last time, he didn’t have to stand there and watch her run. And no one was laughing.
No. This time, he’d taken the last tub of ice cream, claimed it was for Gargoyle when all his dog got was a lick of the spoon at the end, and she’d called him a jerk to his face. It was a good bet she’d called him a jerk before, but she hadn’t done it to his face, as they’d never spoken. Not before, not after.
Alex shoved the key in the ignition, fired it up, and headed home.
It wasn’t until he pulled in that he realized. While he might have been slammed with instant recognition and a bone-fizzing lust that still burned a river of fire from the base of his spine clear to the top of his head, Elle had no idea who he was.
This might hurt the feelings of another man, Alex thought as he let himself in. He distractedly set the ice cream on the center island in the kitchen, Gargoyle leaping around beside him, squeaking his bear. Lucky for Alex, his ego was both gigantic and titanium-clad, or so he’d been told. More than once. It very well could be. He never noticed it himself, being occupied with his all-consuming urge to create, an urge he now felt rising, his mind filling to a fiery, almost painful degree, filling with images he could taste like the heart’s blood of the sun, that he could hear like the hiss and roar of a thousand scorching degrees, that he could feel take shape under his hands, under the strain of his shoulders and the draw of his arms and push of his thighs and—
Alex let out a breath it felt like he’d been holding for years, and he moved with a single purpose. He walked through the house and out, through the rain which sizzled off his overheated skin, into the barn. Outside, the storm intensified and the rain lashed down so thick it turned the night white. He’d left the back door open, he’d left the truck’s headlights on to cut through the trees surrounding his property, and he didn’t give a damn.
His heart was on fire.
His work was on fire.
Alex picked up his tools. He created.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the time Elle got home, Katie was in bed and Jenny was sitting at the kitchen table, her cast propped up on a chair, reading one of her library books. A romance novel.
“Still addicted?” Elle nodded at the book with a smiling couple on the front, the pair of them wrapped in colorful hats and scarves and holding hands as they walked through unspoiled snow.
Jenny shrugged. “You know me. Big fantasy reader.”
Elle did a double take at the book cover—had she missed the elf ears or the dragons?—then caught Jenny’s eye roll. Ah. Sarcasm. Time to deploy the ice cream. She dug a hand into the carrier bag and plonked the extra-large tub down on the table.
Jenny read the label, vanilla, and narrowed her eyes.
Quickly, Elle added the M&M’s.
Then the squirty cream.
Jenny inspected the pile in front of her. “What, no sparklers?”
Elle grinned. “I’ll get the bowls.”
Jenny struggled to her feet, stuffed a crutch under her arm, and hobbled to the cupboard. “I’ll do it. You hang up your coat. You’re getting water all over the floor.”
“It’s raining like the End of Days out there.” Elle hung her coat on the rack of pegs by the back door and sat at the table. She wanted to help Jenny with the bowls and spoons but she knew better, and waited patiently while her sister hobbled her way to the cupboard and back, the cutlery drawer and back, and then lowered herself to the chair.
Elle served up the ice cream while Jenny ripped into the M&M’s, shook out a handful, and knocked them back. “That’s the stuff.” She sighed. She took her bowl from Elle, shook out another handful, and scattered it over her ice cream, passing Elle the bag. Elle finished squirting cr
eam into her bowl, passed it to Jenny, and took the M&M’s. Jenny loaded up with the cream, and for a few blissful minutes there was silence as they worked their way through the food.
Eventually Jenny dropped her spoon into the empty bowl with a clatter. She leaned away from the table, rubbed her hands over her eyes, and said, “I’m sorry. I know I must come off as the biggest bitch in the world, dragging you back here and then giving you attitude for it, but I told you so’s and you should haves drive me crazy.”
“I get that, honey. But you missed the whole point. You wouldn’t have had to beg or humble yourself or any of that bullshit. I wish you’d told me because I’ve been thinking about coming home for a while. It would have helped me decide.”
Jenny waved this away. “You’re lying.”
“Not lying.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re trying to make me feel better. Don’t believe you, and there’s nothing you can say that would make me.”
“All right. Why would I have applied for a nurse’s job at the doctor’s clinic if I wasn’t thinking about moving back?”
“The clinic in town?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’ve got a financial cushion—” financial pincushion, “—but I’m going to need a job sooner or later.” Considering the state of the collective Finley finances, sooner. Definitely sooner.
“You’ve already got a job in Seattle! You’ve got a great job! Shit. Elle. Tell me you didn’t quit your job.”
“I quit it, but—”
“Seriously? Are you insane?”
“Are you? Stop shrieking at me for a second and let me explain!”
Jenny pointed at her with her spoon. “I’m not shrieking.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something? I can’t hear you. My ears are still ringing from all the shrieking.”
“Tell me you didn’t quit your great job with great benefits so you could come back here for a few weeks to take care of your loser sister and her amazing kid.”
“One, I don’t have a loser sister. And two, while I do like the picture of martyrdom you paint, nope. I already quit before you called. I’ve been applying for jobs for a few weeks now.”
“Huh. But why here?”
“Why not?”
“Does Chris want to come live here? Not many investment banker opportunities in Emerson.”
“Chris doesn’t factor into it.”
“You broke up with him?”
“Few months ago.”
“Wow. What happened?”
“Nothing.” Elle drew patterns in the ice cream at the bottom of her bowl. “That was the whole problem.”
“I’m shocked,” said the surprise divorcee. “Thought you guys were solid.”
“We were. Too solid. Like a rock. When we got together, we were like…lava.”
“Lava. Sexy.”
“For a while. And then the lava cooled, and all we were was a weirdly-shaped lump of rock. Cold and gray.”
“Let me guess. You think it’s because of you.”
“I worry, Jenny. I worry that it’s me. When we met, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Three years later, and forget about the sex. I was lucky to get a kiss more than once a week. Somehow, and I don’t even know when it happened, we turned into friends. Roommates. It’s like I sucked the passion right out of him. Like I’m a vampire.”
“Yeah. You’re a taker. Remind me about that whole dropping-your-entire-freaking-life-to-rush-home-and-fix-your-sister bit again?”
Elle pulled a face and grabbed the second tub of ice cream. “You ready for round two?”
Jenny gagged.
“Huh. I was wrong. You are a loser.” Elle served herself another bowlful, loaded it up, and dug in. After a spoonful she said, “You’re kind of artistic and stuff, right?”
“No.”
“Sure you are. Look at the yard.”
“That’s gardening. Not art.”
“I know, but you’ve always been artistic. More than me.”
“There are dogs out there more artistic than you.”
“Can’t argue with that. Do you know anything about architecture?”
Jenny selected a bright red M&M. She popped it in her mouth. “Yep.”
“There aren’t any examples of oh, say, the Gothic architecture typical of medieval Europe around here, are there?”
Jenny considered her for a long moment. “Why?”
“No reason. I was thinking about gargoyles, that’s all.”
“Elle. Why are we talking about gargoyles?”
“I’m not crazy. I just met this guy at the store.”
“And you think he was a gargoyle?”
“No, but he said he had one. He said he was buying ice cream for his gargoyle.”
Jenny frowned, then leaned forward and peered into Elle’s eyes. “Have you hit your head?”
Elle pushed her back, smiling. “This ice cream should have been Chunky Monkey, only he got the last tub.”
“I love Chunky Monkey!”
“I know. I fought. I fought hard. But he won.”
“And he said it was for his gargoyle.”
“Yeah. It was weird. He was beautiful. But really, really weird.”
Jenny popped another M&M. “Beautiful, huh?”
“Big guy. Built like a lumberjack. His shoulders were this wide.” She held her arms out, sketched him in the air. “Now I think about it, he could have been an actual lumberjack. Had a beard, plaid shirt, beat-up old jeans. The works. And he kept staring at me like…I can’t think how to explain it…like he’s this bear and he’s not sure if he wants to eat me or swat me to the ground and…” She trailed off and shivered.
“And? What? And what?”
“You know.” She lifted and lowered her eyebrows. Meaningfully.
“Think you might have the wrong idea about bears, Elle. They pretty much want to eat you, or they wander off. There is no sweet loving.”
Elle shoved the last spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and muttered, “I didn’t think it would be sweet.”
“Right.” Lila hitched a hip onto her Swedish-cool blond wood desk and tapped at her tablet for a moment before setting it down. “First the good news. I’ve got some listings for us to look at, which isn’t good news, it’s fabulous news, considering the rental market around here is damn flat.”
First the good news? Elle looked at Jenny, who opened her eyes wide at Elle to indicate ignorance. Elle turned back to Lila. “What’s the bad news?”
Lila hitched up her other hip to sit on the desk, and clasped her hands in her lap, swinging her legs lightly.
Oh, no.
Lila and Jenny had been friends since kindergarten, and Elle had seen that particular ankle crossed, carefree-little-ole-me pose from her before. Many times. Usually it had happened right before Elle had to go and apologize to someone on their behalf, then promise to replace the window/take the toilet paper from the tree, or lie through her teeth to the teacher that yep, sure, the pair of them were doing homework and, what do you know, the hamster snatched it through the cage bars and ate it.
“It’s not bad news. It’s excellent news! I sold the house!”
Elle squinted at her. “In other words, you’re kicking us out of Jenny’s house.”
Lila uncrossed her ankles and crossed her legs at the knee instead with a gleeful bounce. “Phew. Glad that one’s off my chest. You’re welcome.”
“Yay,” Jenny said. “Officially homeless.”
Lila reached out and ruffled Jenny’s hair. Jenny squawked and smacked her hand away. “Which is why I opened with the good news that I’ve got some places for you to view today. Unless…”
“What?” Elle said.
Lila eyed her speculatively.
“What?” Elle said again.
“We can traipse around town all day while I show you these rentals, or…” She glanced at Jenny.
“Lila.” Jenny shook her head.
<
br /> “Or,” Lila talked over her, “you could buy.”
Elle managed not to laugh. “Maybe next year.”
“Sure? Sure-sure? You’re thirty-three. It’s time to be investing, don’t you think? Time to build that property portfolio.”
“Sadly, I’m kept pretty busy with my huge investment portfolio, so I can’t see where I’m going to find the time.”
“Sassy. Rental it is.” Lila hopped off the desk and pointed between Elle and Jenny. “Think this is really cute.”
Elle stood and reached down to help Jenny. “What’s cute?”
“You two. Doing the whole modern-family thing. Living together.”
Jenny had her crutches tucked under her arms, and froze in the middle of handing her purse to Elle. She shot Lila a horrified look. “Living with my sister isn’t exactly my plan A.”
Elle glared at her. “That’s a shame. For me, it’s a dream come true.”
Lila buttoned her suit jacket and shot the cuffs of her silk blouse. “This is going to work out great. We’ve got five places to hit this morning. Let’s go. You guys want to follow, or you want to hop in the back of my car?”
“Follow,” Elle and Jenny said at the same time.
They fell into step behind Lila, and Jenny leaned in. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. She’s way too upbeat. We might need to make a break for it.”
“Gotcha.”
Lila hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the rental market was flat. None of the fabulous places she had to show them worked out. Not one of them was even approaching what they needed. If they didn’t find somewhere in the next forty-eight hours then, like it or not, they were going to be sharing a one-bed apartment over the laundromat. That, a motel room, or the back of Elle’s Prius.
The next day, matters didn’t improve. Once again they met at Lila’s and, after a good twenty-minute back-and-forth wrangle with Jenny while Elle sat and sipped her takeout coffee, knowing when not to get between the two of them, Lila convinced them to expand the search to Middlebury, the next town over. Last place, she told them, that was remotely possible. “Unless…” She left the word hanging.
“Middlebury’s fine,” Jenny snapped.
