The Wishing Season (A Chapel Springs Romance Book 3)

by Denise Hunter

  As if acknowledging her thought, endorsing it even, he turned his face into her hair. His breath feathered over her skin, and the moment slipped from hug to something more.

  Her heart thumped so hard and fast he had to feel it, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She breathed him in again, brushing her nose along his neck.

  She heard the quick hitch of his breath.

  She shouldn’t press her luck. She shouldn’t. But then his thumbs moved at her waist, sweeping back and forth. The motion, so subtle yet so provocative, sent a wave of desire through her veins, thick and slow like honey.

  She couldn’t help herself. It was just his neck. Just one tiny kiss. A thank-you kiss. Her lips brushed the cradle between his neck and shoulder. His skin was warm and soft, faintly salty. Addictive.

  His hands clenched at her waist. “PJ . . . ,” he warned.

  “What?” she asked, not because she wanted an answer but to hear that husky timbre of his voice again. When he didn’t reply, she lifted her head from his shoulder.

  A storm brewed in the warm, swirling waters of his sea-green eyes. They were intense, mesmerizing. She couldn’t seem to look away. Her heart beat out an ancient tattoo that was a thousand generations old and yet somehow new and different.

  Her gaze skated over his face, settling on his lips. She suddenly wanted them on her more than she could say. Needed to feel him. Taste him. Of their own volition her fingers found the scruff on his jaw. They tingled at the touch.

  Her eyes found his again, locked in tight. She wanted to fall right in there and drown in the stormy depths.

  He leaned closer until his breath brushed her lips. Her heart gave a hopeful sigh. And then he kissed her.

  His lips were warm and soft and plush. He moved slowly, taking his time. Not lazy . . . savoring. She felt the distinct difference, relished it.

  His arms slipped around her, pulling her close.

  Finally.

  She pressed against him as he deepened the kiss. Her heart sang a beautiful melody as her arms curled around his neck, her fingers threading into the softness of his hair while he worked magic on her lips. He tasted like chocolate, smelled like heaven, and felt like home.

  How was it he’d been right here all this time, right upstairs? Why had it taken her so long to find herself in his arms?

  He slowed the kiss. She sensed him pulling away emotionally an instant before he did so physically.

  Their lips separated, and their breaths came heavily, inches apart.

  He drew back until their eyes met. “I’m sorry.”

  The two simple words had the power to drop her stomach to her toes. The regretful look in his eyes didn’t help. “You’re not supposed to say that after you kiss a girl.” Not when her lips still tingled with want.

  His arms unwound from her, taking everything he’d given, leaving her empty and exposed. Wanting.

  “This is a bad idea, PJ.”

  A sick feeling settled in her stomach. “Because . . .”

  Something flickered in his eyes, and then it was gone. A shadow moved as his jaw clenched. “You don’t want this. Only one of us will win the house. If it’s you, I’ll be leaving.”

  “And if you win?”

  His eyes slid over her face. He tucked his hands in his pockets. “How would you feel about me then? After I stole your dream?”

  Could she live with that? Be okay with him? He wasn’t giving her the option of finding out. Her heart gave a squeeze at the thought. She couldn’t stand the thought of their first kiss being their last.

  “So . . . what?” she asked. “We can’t be friends?”

  Okay, so she didn’t go around kissing her friends on the neck. Or the lips. She didn’t have thoughts of pressing herself against them until she could feel their heart beating against hers.

  “I think we’d better take a big step back.”

  Her heart fell the rest of the way down, through two floors, hitting the basement with a heavy thunk.

  “A step back . . .”

  His eyes, so stormy and full of want a moment ago, had shuttered, reminding her of their early days. Was that what he wanted to go back to? To stilted silence and formality punctuated by occasional quarrels?

  “I think that’d be best,” he said, taking an actual step back toward the attic.

  Something about the motion stirred a firestorm inside. She’d never figured him for a quitter, but that’s what he was doing. Quitting her, before he even gave her a chance. He didn’t think she was so capable after all, did he?

  She lifted her chin. “I guess there’s nothing more to say then.”

  “PJ—”

  “No, I got it,” she said, turning before he saw her wet eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She forced her spine straight as she headed down the hall, down the stairs. Only when she reached her room did she hear the creaking above that indicated movement, and she shut the bedroom door behind her as easily as Cole had shut the door on her.

  Cole stared at the darkened ceiling, the ache inside spreading until he hurt all over. Stupid! Why had he kissed her? He’d drawn lines, done so well at building a friendship while keeping his walls in place.

  But then, he’d never felt her breath on his neck, felt her lips on his skin. He closed his eyes against the memory, and it was instantly replaced by the look in her eyes when he put the wall firmly between them again.

  She’d told him he made her feel safe. What a joke. That alone should’ve had him pulling away. He was the last person to keep anyone safe. He’d failed at the job with the people he’d loved most. Best she learned that now before he proved it by hurting her worse.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE COACHLIGHT COFFEEHOUSE BUZZED WITH EARLY morning customers, and the rich smell of java hung heavily in the air. People dashed in, wrapped in thick coats, then left clutching steaming to-go cups. A few, like PJ and Jade, settled at small tables, chatting with their neighbors or reading the Gazette.

  A gust of cold air slithered over PJ’s shoulder as the door opened behind her. A sip of her Americano warmed her up.

  She wondered what Cole was doing. She’d run into him on her way out the door when he was collecting the newspaper. He’d given her a stiff nod and a forced smile. It was a bitter cold greeting after last night’s kiss.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” Jade set down her tea and nailed PJ with sharp green eyes. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

  “Uh-huh . . . Daniel’s got an interview with the Gazette today . . . Ava’s teething . . .” PJ searched for more and . . . nothing.

  “That was five minutes ago.”

  Okay, so she was distracted. She’d gotten all of five hours of sleep after Cole’s blatant rejection. “Got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  Jade laced her fingers on the table, her rings clinking together. “The restaurant?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, what exactly?” Jade searched PJ’s eyes.

  PJ looked down at the wooden table. She drew a short thumbnail along a scratch in the wood surface. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “There’s a first.”

  PJ shot her a look.

  “It’s a guy,” Jade said.

  “What? No.”

  “You know, you always do that voice thing when you’re lying.”

  “What voice thing?”

  “That high-pitched finish. ‘What? No,’ ” she mimicked, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

  PJ pursed her lips.

  “Is it Cole? ’Cause Madison’s usually right about these things. She knew Daniel had feelings for me long before I did. Didn’t even tell me, did I mention that?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Well, we’re sisters. You’d think she could’ve mentioned it in passing.”

  “Because if she’d told you earlier you’d be so much happier now.”

  Now it was Jade who pursed her lips. “Fine. I’m married to the love of my lif
e, and I have two precious daughters. I got my happily ever after, so sue me.”

  “All I’m saying.”

  “And now back to Cole . . .”

  “I don’t believe we were discussing him.”

  “You were about to tell me why he has you all hot and bothered.”

  “I’m not hot and bothered.” Her pitch rose at the end of the sentence, darn it.

  Jade lifted a brow and leaned back, waiting.

  “Fine. He kissed me.”

  Jade leaned forward, a smile curling her lips. “Really?”

  “And then he apologized.”

  Her sister’s lips fell. “Oh.”

  PJ’s stomach dropped all over again as his words climbed into her heart and set up camp. For all his encouragement, all his support and supposed belief in her, he’d sure jumped ship pretty quickly.

  “Was it a nice kiss at least?”

  “ ‘Nice’ doesn’t really cover it. I lay awake all night alternating between reliving the kiss and cringing from his subsequent rejection. My emotions have been bouncing like a manic pinball from sheer bliss to supreme disappointment ever since.”

  “So what was the problem? Why did he apologize?”

  “Apparently he thinks there’s no point. We’re competing for the house . . . one of us will steal the other’s dream, blah, blah, blah.”

  “That’s a good point.”

  PJ narrowed her eyes.

  “Well, it is. Not necessarily insurmountable . . .”

  “Obviously he doesn’t agree. He made it pretty clear we’re headed back to square one with our relationship.” The image of his tight smile this morning made PJ’s throat close up.

  “If memory serves, that includes a lot of sexual tension and bickering.”

  “I can hardly wait. My life needs more stress.”

  “Did you tell him how you feel?”

  “Of course not!”

  “We wouldn’t want to do that now, would we?”

  “I think the kiss kind of spoke for itself. Although not so much for him, I guess. Can we talk about something else? Did you hear Ryan’s buying the Avery house?”

  “What’s up with that anyway? I didn’t know he was even in the market—and I’m only letting you change the subject because I love you.”

  “Remember how Abby used to talk about it? She loved the huge front porch and the big backyard with the tire swing.”

  Jade’s face fell. “Why would he do that?”

  “I think he’s still hung up on her. He kind of snapped at me when I questioned him. I think she still keeps in touch with Amy at the paper. I wonder if I should—”

  “Don’t be a Madison.”

  PJ sighed. “You’re right.”

  “She was just about the death of me with Daniel. I’ve never been so mad at her. Besides, I’m not so keen on Abby after she broke Ryan’s heart like that.”

  PJ sipped her drink. She didn’t know exactly what had happened between Ryan and Abby. She’d only been a teenager, too self-absorbed to pay much attention.

  “Let’s go dress shopping,” Jade said.

  “What do you need a dress for?”

  “I don’t. You do.”

  “Um, is there some upcoming event I’m unaware of?”

  “We’re having a girls’ night out on Valentine’s Day, Madison and us.”

  “How do you know I don’t have a date?”

  Jade gave a mirthless smile. “Daniel’s going to be out of town and Beckett’s visiting his dad. We were discussing it last night while you and your live-in hottie were busy making out.” She blinked innocently.

  “I have to work. I ran a major Valentine’s Day campaign, and we’re booked solid that night.” And she desperately needed the income.

  “We’ll make it a late night then. You could skip out a little early, couldn’t you? Let your crew clean up?”

  “I guess so.”

  Jade drained her mug and grabbed her purse off her chair. “There’s a new boutique in Louisville near that bakery you interned at. We’re picking out something to show off those long, fabulous legs of yours, and I’m buying.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ANOTHER ROUND OF SNOWSTORMS HIT AT THE END OF January. PJ tunneled from her mound of blankets to face the chilly air and cold floor. Judging by the overhead noise, school had been canceled for the second day in a row, and they were cooped up once again.

  Only this time there would be no fun outing to the ice rink and Cappy’s. This time she and Cole would keep to their respective floors, seeing each other only in passing. She wondered if the kids were driving him crazy yet. They’d been loud overhead yesterday, and Shaundra seemed to be working out her dance routine 24/7.

  When she heard the mail arrive, PJ showered and dressed, then headed to the foyer. Upstairs, Zac’s guitar screeched at high volume, Shaundra’s country music blared, and someone, Josh, she presumed, was playing a solo game of Ping-Pong against the upright side of the table. The cacophony was getting on her nerves.

  When she hit the foyer, her feet flew out from under her and she landed on the wood floor with a hard thunk.

  Her backside protested. “Ow . . .”

  Water soaked through her jeans. What in the world? She followed the wet trail from the rug to the stairs. Dad-blame it, if they were going to use the front door, could they at least wipe their feet?

  She pulled upright, wincing at the pain, and wiped up the water with a kitchen towel before gathering the mail.

  She fanned through the stack. The phone bill, the electric bill . . . ugh. She didn’t even want to open that one today. A credit card offer. A hand-addressed envelope. She glanced at the left-hand corner, and her stomach bottomed out.

  The envelope trembled in her hand, the rest of the mail forgotten.

  Why, after two months? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? The nerve of him. She’d ignored his calls and texts; she’d changed her number. Why couldn’t he just go away? What was it with men? Always thinking they knew what she wanted.

  She ripped the envelope in half, then did it again and again until there was a pile of shredded paper on the hostess stand.

  “Hope that wasn’t the electric bill.” Cole stopped at the foot of the stairs in his coat. He looked like he’d just woken, his hair slightly rumpled, his face unshaven. His keys jingled in his hand.

  She snapped her eyes away, scooping up the shredded letter and dumping it in the basket under the stand.

  He pocketed his keys in his jeans. “That wasn’t from—”

  “Is there something you need, Cole?”

  It was none of his business. He wanted distance; he was going to get it in spades. She cleared the rest of the trash from the stand. Two mint wrappers, a broken crayon, a chewed-on pencil.

  “You okay?”

  “Just peachy.” She turned to him, steeling herself against the concern in his green eyes. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d tell the gang to dry their feet so they don’t tramp dirty slush through my foyer, and if they could maybe keep the noise down to a less deafening decibel level, that would be dandy.”

  His jaw tightened. “Anything else?”

  “A little help around here would be nice. The walks need shoveled, and I’ve done it the last three snowfalls.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pushed past her, out the door, and a minute later she heard the scraping of the shovel on the walk.

  Cole undid the top button of his shirt and set his church bulletin on the table. He opened the fridge and surveyed the contents, wondering what he could pull together for lunch. The heavenly aromas of Belgian waffles and bacon wafted up from the restaurant, teasing him.

  The week had dragged. Who was he kidding? Every day since their kiss had dragged. It didn’t seem possible it had been less than a week since he’d held her in his arms. He frowned as he remembered their discussion on bills earlier this morning. She’d hardly looke
d at him. Her sunny disposition had been replaced by storm-clouded eyes. Big, dark, angry ones. It was hard to believe now she’d ever let him close enough to touch her, much less kiss her.

  Well, that’s what you wanted, Evans.

  “Whatcha doing?” Shaundra reached around him for a can of diet soda.

  “Figuring out lunch.”

  “I made a casserole last night—chicken tetrazzini. There’s leftovers.”

  “Perfect.” He grabbed the foil-covered dish. “Want some?”

  “I had a late breakfast downstairs. Have you tasted PJ’s quiche lorraine? Yum.” She nodded toward the casserole. “You’ll have to give me your honest opinion. I created it myself. Hey, PJ talked to me about culinary school. I wish I’d made up my mind sooner. It’s too late for most of the scholarships.”

  He dished out a serving and started the microwave. “Well, you’ll still get the $5,000 voucher from the government.”

  “That won’t even cover a semester.”

  “There’s always student loans. A lot of people do it that way.”

  “I know. And PJ said she’d help me with the applications and even write a recommendation. That’s pretty cool of her.”

  “I’ll write one too if you need another. And don’t forget about the Pell Grant. I’ll help you fill out the FAFSA.”

  “Thanks. PJ helped me with the recipe. She’s teaching me about ingredients and what goes together and why. Zac said it was the best casserole he’s ever had. He doesn’t really like casseroles though, so that’s probably not saying much.”

  “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  “Who do you think’s going to win the house?”

  His gut tightened as it always did when he thought about that.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m rooting for you. I want you to win, but I don’t want PJ to lose either.”

  “Well, that’s not the way it works.”

  “I know. So what do you think?” she asked as he took his first steamy bite.

  “Wow. Very good.”

  “Really? You’re not just saying that?”