by Jennie Marts
“I tried. I showed up at your room, with flowers and sweaty palms, the whole nine yards. I’d saved for months to get the bus fare up to Colorado and couldn’t wait to surprise you. I was terrified you’d forgotten me or wouldn’t want to see me, but I sure wasn’t prepared for you to be engaged.”
He was terrified she wouldn’t want to see him? That was crazy. She’d waited two years for him. “I wasn’t engaged. Who told you that?”
“I talked to your roommate. She told me you were super serious with this guy, that you were crazy in love and getting married. I couldn’t believe it. I kept asking her if you were really happy, and she insisted that you were. I was crushed.”
“But why didn’t you still come find me? Ask me yourself?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I had this whole plan in my head of how excited you would be to see me, then I was so shocked that you were engaged, I didn’t know what to do. I was young and stupid and hurt. I threw the flowers in the trash and got back on the bus. Then spent the next ten hours regretting that I didn’t find you myself. Talk to you. See your face, at least.”
“And that was it? You never tried again? Never looked for me on social media? Checked out my profile? It would have been so easy to see that I never got married.”
He gave her an “are you serious?” look. “I don’t have time to mess around with all the face-tweet stuff. Besides, why would I want to see photos of you and the life I was supposed to have had with you? Knowing you were happy was enough. I didn’t need to torture myself with more proof that I was an idiot to take so long to get back to you.”
“I can’t believe this.” She sank into the kitchen chair, still stunned. “All this time, I thought you’d lied about your feelings for me. Broke your promise about coming back for me. I was with a guy in college, but thanks to you and my dad, I had terrible trust issues and we broke it off. My college roommate was a hag. She hated me and took every opportunity to make my life miserable. She never even told me you’d been there.” Her voice trembled with emotion and too much wine, and she could feel the tears filling her eyes.
“Hey, hey. Don’t do that.” Logan bent down beside her and pulled her into his arms. He tucked her head into his shoulders and rubbed his hand along her back. “Don’t cry. You know I can’t handle it when you cry.”
It felt so good to be held by him. To be back in Logan’s arms. He’d grown taller since they were sixteen, and his muscles had filled out. Oh, how his muscles had filled out. She clung to him, the roller-coaster emotions of the day churning in her chest. A hard sob escaped her, and she cried into his shoulder.
Cried for the loss of her grandmother and the cabin she had always called home, cried for the pain of her dad walking out on her mom, and all the futile anger she had spent on him and every other man that had disappointed her in her life.
And she cried for Logan, for the years they had wasted, for the misplaced anguish she’d felt over him not keeping his promise, and for the heartache of not being able to believe their love had been real.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” He murmured soft words into her ear and simply held on to her. He had always been good about letting her cry it out.
She took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes. “I’m okay.” She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “You know how I get.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I know you get so much stuff bottled up in you that sometimes you just need to have a good bawl and get it out.” He touched the corner of her lip. “And I always knew if I just shut up and held you through it, you would come out of it with a smile.”
Over the past few years, she’d hardened her heart as solid as the chunks of ice forming in the snow outside of the cabin. Like the ice, she’d frozen out any attempts to love again, to trust a man to keep his word. It was easier that way. Easier to keep her feelings at bay than to risk the pain of her heart breaking again.
But Logan’s hand on the side of her face, his reassuring smile, the way he knew just what she needed, were all working to melt the icy edges of her frozen heart. Warmth flowed through her, starting at the corner of her lip where his thumb rested.
She smiled up at him, felt her whole face beam with happiness.
He grinned back. A grin that she recognized with every fiber of her being. He might be taller, his hair might be darker, and he might have a beard, but he was still Logan. He leaned forward, and she burned with the anticipation of his kiss.
He stopped and gave her a sideways glance. “So, you’re really not married?”
She laughed. “I am really not married. This is my grandmother’s ring. I just found it in the bedroom and had slipped it on to feel close to her. I am totally single.”
His eyes narrowed, going dark with desire. “No, you’re not. Not anymore.” He leaned in, this time not stopping, but moving slower. His hand still cupped her face, and he ran his thumb along her bottom lip before gently grazing it with his lips. A whisper-soft kiss. A taste of what was to come.
She shivered. A delicious shiver of expectation.
He pulled back. “Geez, Em. You’re shivering. You must be freezing.” He stood and pulled her up then rubbed her arms. “We need to get you into some dry clothes.”
No, actually, she would be fine if she just got out of her clothes altogether.
Wait. Hold up. This was going way too fast. He was right. She needed to get into some dry clothes, take a minute to think. With her head, not her lust-crazed body. She knew Logan as a boy, but she knew next to nothing about him as a man.
She reached for her tote bag. “I brought some pajamas to change into.” She looked down at Logan’s soaked ski pants. “What about you? Don’t you want to take those off and get dry?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a little bit of a problem. I hadn’t planned on being out all night. All I’m wearing under these is a t-shirt and my underwear.”
Oh boy.
She scoffed, trying to sound casual. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s more important for you to get dry and warm. I can handle you in underwear. We spent the entire summer together wearing nothing but our swimsuits.”
He pulled at the zipper, the soft sound of the releasing metal sending a seductive thrill down her spine.
“Wait.” She covered her eyes with her hand, her bravado gone and suddenly feeling like the shy teenager she used to be. “Boxers or briefs?”
He chuckled. “Uh…boxers, I guess.”
She heard the sound of the slick ski pants hit the floor and peeked between her fingers.
Holy hotness!
“Those aren’t boxers,” she croaked. “Those are boxer briefs. There’s a difference.” And in Logan’s case, it was a big difference.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone totally dry at the sight of Logan standing in front of her, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of tight black boxer briefs. His body was muscled and toned and didn’t show an ounce of fat.
Her infrequent times at the gym didn’t erase the midnight raids of the freezer for ice cream, and she was suddenly self-conscious of her rounded figure. The last time Logan had seen her, she’d had the body of a sixteen-year-old girl.
She grabbed her tote and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be back,” she said before closing the door.
She shrugged out of her wet clothes and wished she had worn better underwear. Especially because her plain black bikinis showed through the worn fabric of the red and white striped pajama pants she’d brought. She slipped on the short red t-shirt and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her face was flushed, framed by her long, dark hair. Okay, she had great hair, but she was suddenly hypercritical of everything else about herself. And for goodness’ sake, why had she brought these old pajamas?
Everything seemed too snug, the knit fabric of her pants hugging every curve. The V-neck of her t-shirt dipped too low, displaying her deep cleavage and the edges of her black lace bra. At least she’d worn a good bra. But she didn’t want to seem li
ke she was flaunting it.
She had a hoodie in another bag that she could zip up over her pajamas, but she still had to cross the living room to get to it.
She hung her wet clothes over the shower rod to dry then cautiously stepped out of the bathroom.
Logan knelt by the fire, adding another log. The firelight only accentuated his body, showing off his muscled arms. All of her woman parts clenched in desire, and her mind filled with dirty little thoughts about how he could “light her fire.”
He must have heard the door, because he turned to look at her. His eyes widened, and she thrilled at the way he had to swallow before he spoke.
She stepped closer. Maybe she wouldn’t get her hoodie just yet.
He grinned. “You look like a candy cane in those pants.”
Oh Lord! A candy cane? Now all she could think about was places that he could lick her.
She could think of nothing to stay. No snappy comebacks. A log shifted in the fire as she stood silently, looking at Logan and aching with want.
Before either of them could speak, a soft pop sounded, and the power went out.
Chapter Four
“Thank goodness I just added another log to the fire.” Logan could see Emily standing in the dim firelight, and moved toward her. “Do you think there’s still some candles around here?”
“Yeah, I left some in the kitchen drawer.” Emily pulled her phone from her bag and touched the screen, and a bright light shone from the top of it.
She smiled. “Flashlight app. The reception is so spotty up here that I don’t know if I could make a call, but I can get the flashlight and calculator to work. And we could probably play a few games of Candy Crush before my battery dies.”
Don’t say candy. Those red and white striped pants she was wearing already reminded him of peppermint. They were killing him. He ached for the taste of her again. He didn’t need to imagine her as a piece of candy too.
Why did he feel like such an awkward teenager around her again? He couldn’t believe he’d said that. What kind of an idiot tells a girl she looks like a candy cane? What a dumb thing to say. But she did look good enough to eat.
His stomach growled at the thought of eating. His cross-country skiing schedule hadn’t really gone as planned, and he’d missed lunch. Making them something to eat would be a good thing to focus on instead of the way that t-shirt dipped in the front and hugged her lusciously curved body. “We should probably save the battery in case we can’t dig out tomorrow. Why don’t you get some candles going, and I’ll figure out how to roast some hot dogs.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They worked together in companionable silence. Emily set up candles around the living room area and Logan focused on putting together makeshift roasting sticks. She brought the grocery sacks over and set them on the floor by the fire.
She dragged the coffee table to the side and pulled the sofa closer to the fire then made a nest of the sofa cushions and sleeping bag. Plopping down beside him, she patiently waited for Bear to settle in next to her then patted his large head as he laid it by her knee.
Pulling out the two bottles of wine, she held them up for his inspection. “Which goes better with Cheetos? Red or white?”
He laughed as he threaded hot dogs onto the sticks and held them over the flames. “Well, I have a pretty discriminatory taste when it comes to my wine.” He put on a fake English accent. “I think the woodsy tones of the white will really bring out the cheesy flavor of the orange dust on the puffs.”
She giggled as she twisted the lid off and handed him the opened bottle of white wine. “Your accent is terrible.”
He took a swig of the wine and grimaced. “So is this wine.”
“I know. What can I say? I’m broke and was depressed. I wasn’t getting it for the refined flavor.”
She laughed and took a sip, then set the bottle on the floor between them. He watched her lean back against the pillows. She looked relaxed and happy as she casually gathered her long hair and twisted it into some kind of knot on top of her head.
She still had amazing hair. It’d felt like silk in his hands when he’d kissed her earlier. And now, with it pulled up, tendrils of loose curls falling free of the tousled knot, it made her look young and more carefree. Less stressed and nervous around him.
And sexy as hell. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his compliment then softened, and he swore her cheeks tinged with a touch of pink. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Feelings of desire churned in his stomach. He longed to lay her down on the sleeping bag, pull her hair free, and strip her of the candy-striped pants.
A soft whoosh sounded. Emily shrieked and pointed at the fire, where his roasting stick and hot dog was engulfed in a bright red flame. “Your wiener’s on fire!”
He pulled the hot dogs from the fire and blew out the flame before giving her a funny look. “Did you really just say that?”
She nodded then burst into a fit of giggles, hiding her face in her hands. He chuckled as he watched her body shake with laughter. Holding her sides, she let out a tiny snort, which set off another round of giggles. She tried to catch her breath, but was still laughing too hard.
He laughed with her, knowing the joke was juvenile, but her joy was contagious, and it felt so good to have a good laugh. The kind that made your belly hurt and your cheeks sore.
His laughter eased, and he shook his head. “Nobody cracks me up the way you do. I’ve missed laughing with you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
He slid the hot dogs into buns, taking the burned one for himself. He wouldn’t taste it anyway. How could he think about food when his appetite yearned for a difference kind of feast? He passed her the hot dog. “Your wiener, madame,” he said with a flourish, setting her off on another round of hysterical giggles.
They talked and laughed as they ate hot dogs and fed each other Cheetos. They were silly together, as people who’d known each other since they were kids often were. Emily giggled as she fed two raw hot dogs to Bear, who wolfed them down in one bite. It felt good to see her playful and relaxed.
Logan was having one of the best nights he could remember, but he definitely wasn’t relaxed. Every nerve cell in his body was taut with energy and sent zings of sensation through him every time her hand brushed his or her leg bumped up against him.
He was hyperaware of her every movement, the way she smelled, the way tendrils of her hair lay against her neck, the way he could see right down her shirt every time she bent forward.
They’d finished a bottle of wine and half of the cake, then his heart stopped as he watched her tip the can of whipped topping and squirt it into her mouth. She caught him watching and gave him a devilish grin, a tiny dollop of white cream at the corner of her mouth. He yearned to lean forward and lick the silky whipped cream from her lips.
He’d been on plenty of dates, been with his share of women, but something about Emily made him feel gawky and clumsy, like his arms and legs weren’t connected right to his body. He felt nervous and excited at the same time, and wondered if she noticed how many times he’d laughed too loud or awkwardly in the wrong place.
But as self-conscious as he felt, he also felt completely and totally right. Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be, in this cabin, on this night, with this beautiful girl.
He leaned back on the sofa, pulling out the old “stretch and then casually rest your arm on her shoulders” move. She curled into him, laying her head on his shoulder, and he felt his whole body relax into hers.
He reached up, pulled her hair from the topknot, and sucked in a breath as he watched it fall, the long, dark curls cascading around her shoulders. He picked up strands of it, running the silky locks through his fingers. He released the breath slowly. He was cool. No big deal.
Wait. The hand that she so casually had rested on his chest now started making slow circles of caress on his che
st. Forget smooth and relaxed, his body just shifted gears and swung into overdrive.
“So tell me about what you do now?” she asked, her voice calm and easy, as if she had no idea the kind of turmoil she was stirring up inside of him. “What did you major in at college?”
“Er…um…architecture. I’ve been working for a company in Arizona, but I have my own firm now.”
“I can see that. You always did like to talk about building things.”
What? An architect? Her hand slid under his shirt and traced a circle around his belly button. Her fingers were cool against his skin, which felt like it was on fire from her touch. This seemed like a great segue into telling her he’d been the one to buy the cabin. To share with her his plans for renovation.
“So, I’ve been wanting to tell you—”
Her hand moved lower, her fingers dancing along the edge of the elastic band of his briefs, and all thought left his brain.
She looked up at him, her brown eyes gorgeous in the firelight. “Yes? You wanted to tell me something?”
Uh? Did he? He’d been about to say something. But it was gone now.
All he could think about was her hands on his bare skin, sliding lower, and the way her eyes went soft and her lips parted as if in invitation.
He didn’t take the time to RSVP, he just leaned down and kissed her. No gentle brush of his lips, but a siege of passion as he covered her mouth. She tasted like chocolate and wine, and she moaned against his mouth.
His self-control shattered. He had to have her. He feasted on her mouth while filling his hands with her lush curves. Squeezing, caressing, he explored her body with his hands, his lips, his tongue, drawing pleasure from each gasp of delight.
He nuzzled her neck, tangling his hands in her hair as he laid a fiery trail of kisses down her throat and into the vee between her breasts. Raising her t-shirt, he traced the lacy outline of her bra with his tongue while his hands frantically worked the clasp at her back. With a twist of his fingers, the hooks released, freeing her full breasts.
