Safe in His Arms--A Clean Romance

by Anna J. Stewart

  Enough people had told him this was going to be a rough storm that he should have believed them. Probably karmic retribution for scoffing at the idea that the Northern California coast didn’t really know what a storm was.

  He almost slipped and slid in the mud, scanning the area as he hurried toward Kendall’s door. She’d put all her tools and equipment away, and knotted a tarp around the scaffold, which creaked and groaned. He knocked three times and called her name, his voice disappearing on the air. He cupped his hand, peered inside. No light. No sign of movement. No hint that she was home.

  Great. He frowned and braced himself again as he hurried back to the guest house. He hadn’t been worried. Not when he thought she was inside. He couldn’t help but worry now...and wonder where she was.

  * * *

  “YOU CANNOT BE serious about walking home in this storm.” Lori Knight, Matt’s wife and, by default, the closest thing Kendall had to a best friend, planted her hands on her ample hips and glared not just daggers, but scimitars at her.

  “A little rain never hurt anyone,” Kendall said and earned a grin of approval from Kyle, Lori and Matt’s teenage foster son and Kendall’s sometimes second assistant. “It’s not that bad, Lori.”

  “Not that bad?” Lori marched over and flung open the living room curtains. “That’s not buckets out there, Kendall. It’s garbage cans. Dump trucks, maybe. If you don’t drown, you’re going to get sick.”

  “I don’t get sick.” Anymore. Kendall zipped up first the sweatshirt Hunter had loaned her and then the oversize jacket she’d bought at the thrift store. “I’m too mean to get sick. Besides, it’s your fault I had to come out here, remember?” She’d patched the hole in the roof just as the first drops of the storm began to fall.

  “Oh, yeah.” Lori glared up at the water stain on the kitchen ceiling that was only just beginning to dry. “Fixed it in time, so thank you.”

  “I can drive her home,” Kyle offered and slid off the stool at the breakfast bar.

  “Park it, mister.” Lori tapped her finger against his history text book. “You only just got your license. Let me have my first heart attack over that before you go driving in this kind of weather.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Kyle,” Kendall told him as he sagged back into his seat, his too-long blond hair falling over one very wise eye. “But Lori’s right. No one should be driving in this. Which is why I’m going to walk. A walk that might go better with brownies.”

  Lori narrowed her bright blue eyes and flipped her blond hair over one shoulder. “You never take leftovers. What’s going on?”

  Kendall shrugged. “Everyone likes brownies.” She’d bet Hunter liked brownies. And Phoebe, of course. They’d brought her dinner and dessert. Time for her to repay the kindness with something more than a surly attitude. “Especially homemade.”

  “Lori’s brownies are the best,” Kyle agreed as he reached over to grab one.

  “Well, I shouldn’t be eating any more, anyway, so I’m happy to have someone else enjoy them.” She ducked down to retrieve a plastic container.

  “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” Kendall said. “Kicking yourself for eating what you want?”

  “I’m supposed to fine her a dollar every time she does.” Kyle grinned before he got up to pour another glass of milk.

  “I spent a lifetime obsessing about my weight,” Lori told them both. “It’s going to take at least half that long to make the mental shift. But I’m getting there.” She smoothed a hand down the front of her sweater. “Being happy helps.” She hooked an arm around Kyle’s neck and brought him in for a hug. A hug that turned the teen’s face bright red as he returned the embrace. “Can you believe he’s finally ours? Officially legal and everything? Is there such a thing as an ‘it’s a teenager’ shower?”

  “If there’s not, there should be,” Kendall agreed. There were few people in her life Kendall loved. Down to the ground, would do anything for, loved. For the longest time—years, in fact—the entire list had consisted of Lori’s husband, Matt. But last year Lori had slipped right in beside him. Watching Lori and Matt together, seeing how they were building their family with Kyle, a boy who’d had a seriously rough start in life, made her almost believe in happily-ever-afters again.

  Almost.

  The rain always helped clear her mind. Maybe it was the years growing up when staying outside no matter the weather was better than going home. Maybe it was the year she’d spent in the Afghan desert, where she’d longed for a skin-soaking downpour. Or maybe it was that before today, walking in a rainstorm was the perfect camouflage for a good cry.

  But not today. Today, huddled in her double layers, listening to the squish of her work boots, a container of homemade brownies tucked in an inside pocket, the tears didn’t fall. They didn’t even surge. The wind battered her to the point where she had to catch her balance a few times, but she actually found herself smiling up at the sky and reveling in the sensation of the sharp drops hitting her face.

  Houses were locked up tight and, given what she’d seen on her walk to Matt and Lori’s house, some of the stores had taped their windows to be safe. Butterfly Harbor wasn’t often a ghost town, not in Kendall’s short experience, but today she’d have been surprised to see even a butterfly drifting in front of her.

  Normally she preferred to take the long way to wherever she was going, but today she made an exception and cut across the street before heading up the hill to Liberty Lighthouse. She’d almost lost feeling in her toes from the cold rain and was looking forward to a long soak in the tub when a huge gust of wind nearly slammed her into a lamppost. She gave herself a good shake just as the crack split the air, followed by another long ripping sound that echoed in her ears. A thud echoed around her, followed by a crash. The ground trembled beneath her feet.

  Kendall pushed off the post and ran full bore down the muddied, sloppy road, slipping and sliding more than once. Breath sharp in her chest, her frozen fingers clenched inside her jacket pockets as she surveyed the damage. The top half of one of the monstrous redwoods standing guard along the perimeter of the lighthouse had landed in the path between the keeper and guest houses. It had missed both buildings by inches, the thick trunk wedging itself firmly against her own front door. The tip-top branches had broken free when they’d scraped against the guest house’s windows. Even as she moved toward the keeper house, the door to the carriage house was thrown open.

  “Kendall?” Hunter shouted into the rain and the wind. “Is that you?”

  “Yes!” She slipped and slid her way forward. “I’m fine. Are you guys okay? No, stay inside!” She faced him as he pulled the door closed behind him and started toward her. “What’s wrong? Is Phoebe okay?” She sputtered and swept water out of her eyes. “What are you...doing?”

  She might have backed up if she’d had time to think, if she’d taken a second to consider what she was seeing in his eyes, but it wasn’t until he’d gripped her arms and hauled her against him, pressed his mouth against hers that she recognized fear. And worry. And...relief.

  The storm raged around them. Through them. In them. She heard a soft whimper escape and was stunned to realize it was she who had made the noise. His mouth demanded at first, drank her in, until eventually his lips softened and he lifted one hand to cup the side of her face. “I was worried about you,” he murmured when the kiss ended. “Where have you been?”

  “Uh, working.” She blinked, uncertain what had happened. Uncertain what she was feeling. And she was feeling so much. So much more than she’d felt in...years. She closed her eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers, held her against him for a long moment. She tried to breathe easy, to calm herself down, but she inhaled the scent of him mingling on the wind, in the rain, and her mind was filled only with images of Hunter MacBride.

  This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not again. “I had to fix Lori’s roo
f before the storm—Hunter.” She lifted her face, pinned her gaze to his. “Hunter, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” That he’d worried about her should scare her right down to the tips of her toes, but instead, she accepted his concern as part of who he was.

  “We were worried about you.”

  “We were?” She stepped back, letting the moment pass as she attempted to put some distance between them.

  “Check out the window.” He jerked his head back. “She’s been standing on a chair watching for you.”

  “She was that close when the tree went down?” She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to think about a little girl’s fear or the fact that that little girl had been thinking about her. “She must have been so scared.”

  “She probably still is. You should come in and reassure her.”

  Kendall shook her head. “No.” That definitely was not a good idea. She needed to rebuild that wall around herself, the wall that kept everyone, especially handsome men and their beautiful nieces, away from her heart. “No, I’m just going to go inside—”

  “How?” Hunter followed her as she attempted to work her way around the tree that barred her access to her front door. “That’s not budging without a chain saw, and you know it. And until it stops raining, you’re out of luck. Kendall.” She sat awkwardly on the tree, branches and twigs catching in her clothes, under her jacket. She could see deep gouges in the side of the house now, gouges that would need repairing. One of the smaller panes of glass in the window beside the door had been shattered. The water damage, hopefully, would be minimal. But that was where she was safe. That was where she wouldn’t have to look at Hunter or Phoebe and be reminded of all she’d had. All she’d lost. All that could never be hers again.

  “You can’t get in there tonight.” Hunter tugged on her arm. “You know I’m right, Kendall. Come on. Come with me.”

  She dug her fingers deep into the damp bark of the tree, wishing there was another option. She didn’t want to know how Hunter and Phoebe lived their day-to-day lives. She didn’t want to see a father and daughter curled up on the sofa, reading books and playing board games. She didn’t want to bond over a roaring fire or hot soup or cuddle up against the storm. She wanted to just sit here, on this tree, and let the rain and wind take her away.

  “Kendall.” Hunter’s hold eased. He stepped back, offered his hand instead. “Please.”

  Kendall looked over her shoulder to where Phoebe stood in the window, her tiny nose pressed against the glass in between splayed hands. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t spend endless hours looking at a little girl who reminded her so much of the future she’d lost when Sam died. The pain she’d felt when Samira had been killed. She couldn’t...

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, looked down at Hunter’s hand.

  And placed her trembling one in his.

  * * *

  “I KEEP STEALING your clothes.”

  “Seems that way.” Hunter handed over a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, the quickest things he could find that might fit her. Despite the strength he’d seen in her, she appeared so frail, even more so now as she stood shivering in the small bathroom. If she’d thought the two jackets would help keep her dry, she was wrong. She was soaked right down to the skin. “Towels are on the shelf over there. Help yourself to whatever else you might need. Phoebe and I are going to make dinner. Having help means it’ll be a while.” He grinned and picked up the sopping coats. “So take your time.”

  “I need to c-call someone. Ab-bout the tree.” Her teeth were all but rattling. “I d-don’t have a cell ph-phone.”

  “Mine’s right here.” He left the cell on the counter and hefted the coats in his arms. “Oh, and before you start thinking about how to repay the favor, I’ll appreciate it if you start a fire in the fireplace when you’re done.”

  Kendall frowned at him after accepting the dry clothes. “You don’t know how?”

  “I know how.” He shrugged and headed off. “Just not my strong suit.” Something dropped out of the jackets. “What’s this?” He bent down to retrieve the plastic container.

  “Dessert?” Kendall gave him a tremulous smile.

  “Brownies? My favorite. Thanks.”

  “Thank Lori Knight when you meet her. She made them.”

  “Will do.” He saluted her with the treat and pulled the door closed behind him. He almost tripped over Phoebe, who was standing right outside. “She’s fine, kiddo.” Hunter caught her shoulder and turned her back to the kitchen. “Just wet and cold. What should we fix for dinner? A Calliope special?”

  They decided a Calliope special was a kitchen-sink salad along with gooey grilled cheese sandwiches, one of Phoebe’s favorites. The minutes ticked past in his head as Phoebe stood on her stool, meticulously cutting up a red pepper with her special-helper plastic knife. She paid as much attention to this task as she had those math problems. Into the bowl with the mix of arugula, kale and red-leaf lettuce went peppers and green onions and little heirloom tomatoes along with tiny broccoli branches and some shredded parmesan cheese. He pulled his desk chair over so there were three seats at the table, set the sandwiches in between two plates to keep them warm and had Phoebe clean up what he had begun to call her math lab.

  She stacked her papers and notebook into a neat pile and set them on the edge of his desk, then picked up her copy of Charlotte’s Web and placed it next to her dinner plate.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she was enjoying the other books she’d picked up from the library, but now wasn’t the time. She hadn’t screamed or cried, but he knew that tree falling in front of the house had scared her. It had to. That deafening boom had taken a few years off his life. He’d half expected to find the keeper house decimated when he rushed to the window. That the tree had just missed seemed both a miracle and a warning. A reminder of just how short life could be.

  Seeing Kendall arrive just after the tree crashed had sent a surge of relief through him so hard it could have rivaled the midnight tide. Throwing caution out the window, he’d raced outside, wanting nothing more than to see her. Touch her. Hold her. And the moment he had, the moment he knew she was all right, there was only one thing left he needed to do.

  He’d kissed her.

  And possibly thrown the rest of his life completely off-kilter for the second time in less than a year.

  The bathroom door creaked open, and Kendall stepped out, her bare feet stark against the dark-stained wood floors. “Sorry I took so long. I think I fell asleep.” She started to push her hair out of her face, then seemed to remember she’d braided it and dropped her hand to her side. “I just hung the towels over the shower.”

  “That’s fine,” Hunter told her. “You want to eat first or get the fire started?”

  Phoebe rubbed her hands down her arms.

  “Fire it is,” Kendall said without hesitation and walked over to the latched panel beside the fireplace. She ducked down and pulled out four solid pieces of wood as if determined to look anywhere but at him. Had one kiss, one impulsive move on his part, destroyed whatever progress they’d made? “I know you have plenty right outside the door, but this is much drier.”

  “I should have realized that’s what that was. Great idea.” He walked over, Phoebe right beside him, and they settled in to watch.

  “My grandparents had one of these. As long as the wood is stocked, you don’t have to go outside to get it. Makes for much nicer winter evenings, believe me.”

  “Where was that? The farm.” Hunter drew Phoebe onto his lap when it became obvious she was determined to help. He locked his arms around her and rested his chin on her head, a sign to her that she wasn’t going anywhere. She sighed and sagged back against him.

  “North Dakota. Dad was in the service, so my mom and I spent a lot of time up there with them.” Kendall stacked the wood, then crumpled up pieces of an old
newspaper. “My grandfather didn’t know what to do with a granddaughter, so he did what he’d done with his son and taught me about carpentry and construction. And baseball.” She added with a surprising laugh, “I used to have a wicked slide into home.”

  Phoebe looked back at Hunter with something akin to wonder on her face.

  Kendall struck a long match and lit the papers. They crackled and smoked and caught. Tiny flames licked up into bigger ones until the fire burned brightly. The orange-and-red flames illuminated her face and brought a healthy glow to her cheeks. “See? Nothing to it. But it’s only when you have adult supervision, right, Phoebe?”

  Phoebe nodded, then rubbed her stomach.

  “I guess that means dinner is served.” Hunter grunted as he set her down. “Hope you like salad and grilled cheese.”

  “I like them just fine.” Again Kendall moved without really looking at him. “I called Frankie Bettencourt. She’ll have volunteers out here to remove the tree as soon as the storm blows through.”

  “I’ve heard her name before. She’s one of the firefighters in town, right?”

  Phoebe tugged on Kendall’s shirt, a surprised expression on her face when she pointed to herself.

  “You’ve never seen a female firefighter before?” Kendall looked aghast when Hunter shrugged.

  “We move around a lot and, honestly, haven’t had much cause to interact with firefighters.”

  “I’m sure Frankie would be thrilled to give you a tour of the firehouse.”

  “My list of places to see and explore is growing exponentially,” Hunter said as he retrieved the salad bowl from the counter. “Which reminds me, any chance I can get a look at the inside of the lighthouse?”

  “Oh. Sure.” Kendall shrugged. “I guess it should have occurred to me before, given your project.” She sat back and watched as Phoebe piled her plate high with salad. “So, um, you like vegetables, Phoebe?”