On the Edge (Blue Spruce Lodge Book 1)
Page 19
“Oh, for the love of—” Hard to tell if Nate blushed under that dark brown skin of his, which would have been funny if Nate hadn’t then said, “Don’t pull me into this. Not my horse. Not my race.”
Brilliant. Rolf blinked in a subdued wince.
Glory exhaled through her nose in the kind of angry snort horses made as a warning they were going to trample you to death.
“You are children.” She jerked her chair back with a screech. “Dinner in twenty in the dining room. Wash your hands.”
She wasn’t there when they went in and he didn’t see her for the rest of the night.
*
BLESSED WINTER – Chapter Four
Page 36, word count = 8958
I don’t plan on moving for a man again.
Why that stuck in his craw like a peanut shell, Brock wasn’t sure. He hid his consternation by unwrapping the gift from his father, already knowing what it would be.
“It’s kind of a joke.” He set the bottle of scotch on the coffee table. “My brother and I got into his good stuff once, when we were underage. He spent the next few years giving us a bottle each for Christmas, then he would make a big deal about how we were too young to drink. ‘What do we do now?’ he would say. ‘I guess your mother and I will have to drink your booze.’”
It had turned into something they all groaned over, but Pandora ate it up with the biggest smile on her face.
“He toasted each of us from our own bottle when we were finally legal. Now it’s a tradition that he gives us one and we usually have a toast on Christmas morning.” He hadn’t considered that he would be missing that when he had decided to go to Mexico instead of Hawaii. Now he was feeling the separation from his family, which was really dumb. He was a grown man.
“Do you want a drink of it now?” Pandora started to rise.
“No.” He stopped her. “No, I want to be cold stone sober if—Have you had another contraction since twelve minutes ago?” He consulted their scribbles.
She shook her head and stole a cookie, looking sheepish. Cute and innocent as the Who-girl in the Grinch cartoon.
In that moment, he still missed his family, but he was glad he was here, with her.
“Ready for another one?”
She slid him a conspiratorial side-eye and nodded.
He chuckled and gave her the kid’s book. It was more of a joke for his brother, since it was loaded with filthy language, but she loved it. She turned each page and read it aloud, laughing harder and harder as the child was urged to go to sleep with ever-increasing blue-peppered frustration. When she got to the end, she hugged it to her chest.
“We had to get rid of all my books when Mom joined Gary’s church. I was devastated. I was already missing my real friends and then had to leave my book friends at the thrift store. To be able to say this is my child’s book, and have it be this salty and inappropriate…”
Dang. He was making her cry again. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and cuddle her, but she blew her nose, then pointed at the paper.
“Contraction?” He hit the timer and they wrote it down when it was over. “They’re not very regular, are they?” He set down the paper and rubbed his hands on his thighs. His palms were sweating. “But that was almost two minutes long.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered.
Adrenaline went through him each time she had one. He kept thinking, this is it. It wasn’t, but soon the contractions would come quicker. Then this pretty, sensitive, wronged woman was going to deliver a baby. Somehow, he would have to get her to a hospital and then what?
Then she would raise her child all by herself because she had no one else to help her.
“Are you signed up for a moms’ group or anything?”
“I went for coffee with a couple from my prenatal class, but… They’re nice, but one was married to this tech guy. They’re so rich even she admits it’s obscene. The other one was kind of obsessed about wearing your baby and attachment. I kept thinking she would judge me when I had to put my baby in daycare so I could go back to work. I didn’t feel like I fit with them so I haven’t met with them since.”
Men had it so easy sometimes. Their playing fields were sports and careers. Things you could at least try to control or achieve. Raising kids shouldn’t be competitive. You coped with whatever came along, however you could.
“You open another one,” she insisted.
He revealed a board game with questions about survival.
“Is that a joke gift, too?”
“No.” He laughed. “Mom knows I like games. Look, it says ‘Ages eight and up.’”
“Oh. Sorry.” She bit her lips, hiding a grin. “I didn’t expect that about you.”
“I thought it was weird that you knit,” he admitted.
“I also make jam and jelly.”
“Really.” He sat back, arm along the back of the couch. “We know who’s going to win the survival game in the long run, then, don’t we, Miss Home Preserves?”
“Do you want to try some? Jelly, I mean. I’m kind of hungry.”
“Sure.” He had a feeling she was putting off opening her last present, savoring the anticipation. She was going to break his heart with this subdued excitement of hers—she really was.
She already had, if he was honest.
They made toast and eggs, coffee for him and fresh tea for her. Cooking with her was as easy as it had been the last time they had bumped into each other in her small kitchen—except this time she took up all the room.
When she sucked a breath through her teeth, he quick-stepped to record the contraction, then took over rubbing her back. “Big one?”
“Strongest yet.” She looked up at him, anxious. “I’m really glad you’re here, Brock. Thank you.”
She looked so sweet and vulnerable, he wanted to cup her face and kiss her. Not hot and randy, but soft and tender. Well, maybe hot and randy. He was doing his best to ignore how gorgeous her breasts and ass were, all round and abundant. She smelled fantastic and he was a sucker for long hair. He wanted to loosen hers and stroke his hands through it.
She was looking at his mouth. Her gaze then went down to the middle of his chest, shy, before she looked up into his eyes again. Inviting.
He went for it. He cupped her face and lowered his head—
*
Knock, knock, knock.
Actually, it was closer to pound, pound, pound.
Glory was basking in a rare afternoon of writing in her room. Devon had had to turn off the electricity and her father was holding court in the shrubs out front of the lodge, raking the gardens and complaining that he didn’t care how pretty a blue spruce tree looked. Their frosted blue-green needles were a literal pain in the ass to work around.
With her desktop computer down, she couldn’t do payables so had stolen away to her room, where her laptop had a full charge. It was a cool day, overcast, but she had cracked her window because it smelled so good to let in the fresh air.
“I need Trigg,” Rolf said from the other side of the door, sounding really grim.
What had the dumbass done now?
“He’s not here,” she called. They were the first words she’d spoken to either of those idiots in two days.
Rolf pushed open her door and strode in.
“Hey!” She stood up and snapped her laptop closed.
Rolf gave her one sharp glance, head to toe, making her wish she had on more than a pair of thin bamboo shorts and a baggy T-shirt without a bra. Then he strode into the bathroom, even peeked inside the toilet closet, and came back to check the exterior door, which was locked from the inside.
“Wow.” She folded her arms, as much as to hide the shadow and poke of her nipples against the white cotton as from astonishment. “Who I have in my room is none of your business, F. Y. I.”
The way he dipped his chin and gave her a low-browed glare set her back on her heels.
“It’s not,” she insisted, but her voice wasn’t as strong as
she wanted it to be. She braced a hand on her desk and ignored the squiggling in her stomach that came of facing down danger. “And here’s another memo I’ll be posting to the bulletin board. I’m not a fucking game piece.”
“Damned right you’re not.”
She frowned. Did he not understand what she was talking about? She tried again. “I don’t deserve to be treated like a thing.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t get to agree when you’re acting like an asshat, being nice to me to piss off Trigg!”
The look he sent her had her leaning back another degree.
This. Man. Coming into her room and sending scolding glares her direction? She made herself stand up straight and curled the hand on her desk into a fist.
“Well, you weren’t nice to me before, were you? But the minute he gives me a jacket, you give me your office, like you’re doing me a big, fucking favor.”
His eye ticked once, but he only planted his feet and folded his arms. “I would have given you a jacket. Ask me for any of our gear. It takes one call and it’s good advertising.”
What else could she say to that except, “Pffft!”
“The office was exactly what I said. I need to be down at the base during the day. There’s no reason you shouldn’t use it, but sometimes I still need it. That had zero to do with Trigg. Taking you up the hill to see the view… I know he offered to take you, but fuck it. He wasn’t there when you wanted to go. I was.”
“So you admit it. I’m just the prize in some competitive game between you two.” Wow. The difference between knowing and knowing was the difference between a stubbed toe and a shattered foot. “That’s gross, Rolf.”
He had the grace to look uncomfortable, mouth pressed flat, body tight as he stood there like a freaking mountain in the middle of her room.
“Trigg is the one who—”
“Your little brother started it?” she cut in. “That’s what you’re going with?” She was working really hard over here to stay at angry and not let on how badly he was undermining her composure. The pressure behind her eyes was climbing into her throat and her sinuses were filling up.
She still reacted to him every single time, despite the fact he was this monumental ass. “Look, I don’t expect you to like me or be friends with me or even be nice to me, but I do expect better than that kind of treatment. This isn’t fucking high school.”
“I like you.” He scowled, sounded surprised at the accusation.
“Oh, fuck off. I’m not stupid.” Or quick to forgive. “And it doesn’t matter because I don’t like you. Get out of my room.”
He was absolute granite after that, breaths slow and even, but audible, hissing through his nostrils.
She was a flat chunk of cardboard growing soggy and threatening to buckle. She concentrated on her own breathing and holding his gaze without blinking, eyes burning, doing her best to convince both of them she did hate him. Thoroughly and without remorse.
He turned and started for the door.
Her throat clenched.
He stopped, hand on the latch, keeping his back to her. “I’ve never fucked up this badly with a woman. I don’t know how to come back from it.”
She felt his words like a shock wave that left a ring in her ears. The dip between his shoulder blades flexed where his head hung, leaving a hollow at the top of his spine. She got to six before realizing she was counting her own heartbeats.
“You could quit treating me like I’m a fucking toy at the fair you have to win from your brother,” she managed. “That’d be a start.”
“I’m not fucking playing, all right?”
He let go of the latch and spun. The aggression radiating off him was scary, even though she somehow wasn’t afraid of him. One sideways look from him had the potential to scar her with the singe of a close shave, but she had the feeling his anger was targeted at himself. He still nearly knocked her off her feet when he spoke.
“Trigg might be flirting because he’s genuinely attracted. I don’t know. But whether he’s fucking around or making a serious play, he knows it pisses me off and that’s why he keeps throwing you in my face.”
“Because you don’t want him to win. Oh, I mean score.”
“Exactly,” he bit out.
“Do you hear yourself?” she cried. She could hear the hurt straining her voice and hoped he put it down to indignation. “What does it matter if I did sleep with him? Is your ego really that fragile? Or are you worried I’m going to try to marry him for the family jewels or something? I’m not interested in Trigg, okay? There’s no need to stomp in here like some patriarchal asshole, telling me I’m not good enough for him.”
Fuck her stupid eyes, getting all wet like this. She pushed the heels of her hands into her sockets, trying to stem the pressure.
“Glory.” He so seldom said her name, it made her heart quiver, especially when he sounded like he was searching for what remained of his patience. “Are you really that stupid?”
She jerked her head up, lashes matted so she had to blink to see him. “What’s that supposed to mean? I know you’re not interested in me yourself. You made that pretty fucking clear.”
He didn’t say anything. He just stared. And stared.
She thought of the truck, when she’d sat on his erection all the way down the hill.
Her ears grew hot and her skin shrank so she was tight all over. The little flame of sexual hunger she couldn’t seem to douse flared and brightened, searing her middle like a brand. It sat there hot, hotter, hottest, imprinting him into the deepest part of her, so painfully intense she could barely draw breath. Her cheeks hurt, she was blushing so hard.
“You said—” she began in a wobbly voice.
“I know what I said.”
She shook her head. Folded her arms and stared out the window, eyes going blurry again. “You’re just trying to win against Trigg.”
He came close, each of his footsteps making her want to flinch. Run. All of her felt so raw and exposed, she could only stand very still for fear of whatever was coming and how much it would sting.
When his firm hand drew her jaw around, forcing her to look into his eyes, she only allowed it so she could let him see how much she hated him. This was not funny. It was cruel.
“I’m going to say this once more,” he said, thumb oddly tender against her skin while he was so serious her entire body juddered into a freeze. Even her breath failed to move. “I am not. Fucking. Playing.”
His thumb made another sweep across her jaw, leaving a trail of sensitized nerve endings.
She jerked back, away from his touch, and hugged herself harder, kind of scared she wouldn’t be able to keep her slamming heart gathered inside her chest. He didn’t back off, keeping her trapped against her desk as he stood there. Heat radiated off his body, threatening to give her a sunburn.
“I know better than to sleep with someone who is part of my professional life—”
“Could you please wait until you’re invited into my bed before you tell me how much you don’t want to be there? Twice,” she bit out in a ragged voice.
He swore under his breath, sighed. “Whether you invite me or not, it’s where I want to be. Constantly. We both think about it, Glory. Let’s name that beast and decide what to do about it, shall we?”
Fantasizing about sleeping with him versus actually doing it—She shook her head. Nope. Let’s not and say we did.
She averted her face again, afraid to move away from her desk because he stood so close. She might wind up touching him.
He pushed his hands into his jeans pockets, his gaze fixed on her face so avidly, she experienced flutters of panic. It took everything in her to keep from looking up, afraid he would suck her right into whatever it was he thought he was doing to her right now.
She looked at her thumb, fighting the urge to bite her nail.
“Look, if you need me to say I’m attracted to you, fine,” she muttered. “So what? Look who you are. You hav
e a six pack and all your hair. Congratulations. You’re attractive. It doesn’t mean I want to fall into bed with you. That arrogance of yours is off-putting. Which would matter if you were remotely interested in me, but I don’t believe you are, so…”
“I know.” He swept a knuckle across her cheekbone and down to the hollow beneath her ear. It was tickly and light. Apologetic maybe. It left her blood feeling laced with champagne, fizzy and thick.
She didn’t move, gaze now snagged by the button on his shirt pocket. Paralyzed.
“I don’t waste time with head games. That’s why I said those things that day. Our lives overlap too much for a clean break if things go south. That doesn’t change the fact I want to sleep with you.”
She finally risked trying to read his expression and only got tangled up in shades of topaz. His dark brows pulled together a little as he held her stare. If she was an imaginative person, which she was, she would have thought he was revealing concern.
“I don’t get involved with women who wear their heart on their sleeve the way you do.”
“For God’s sake!” She looked away, fists falling to hit her thighs.
“I’m not saying it’s bad,” he chided. The backs of his fingers went down her arm and his gaze went to her chest. He drew in a breath as though he was making a super human effort in some way. “I’m saying I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m not a sensitive man. I don’t want to hurt you again.” His fingers crept all the way around her upper arm, thumb stroking her skin as he gently clasped her in his warm grip.
“So don’t,” she suggested with a flash of irritation.
“Okay.” How did he make one word sound so dangerous? Like a dare. “You tell me what hurts more. Resisting or giving in?”
And now she was falling into an eclipse, staring into eyes that were golden and black at the same time, pulling her right out of herself and twisting her around so her body was in a sensual agony, tied up and yearning.
“Should we see?” he murmured, hands touching her with light sorcery, caressing her arm, caressing her throat, tilting up her chin.
She shouldn’t be this stupid, but she did hurt. All the time. With want…