by Fox, Piper
The scent of peach blossoms clung to her hair from the shampoo she used. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent on her, as well as the other, more musky scent of woman beneath. Even in human form, his cougar senses were attuned to his surroundings.
All too soon, Jo stepped out of his embrace. The sudden ache from the loss of her warmth surprised him. He fought the instinct to pull her back to him.
“I need to change those bandages,” she said, as if she felt the need to offer an explanation for backing away from him. She tucked a stray strand of mussed copper hair behind her ear. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll get you a cup of coffee and make some breakfast, then I’ll take a look at that arm. You must be starving.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. She must recall his massive appetite after a night of running as a cougar. He was always ravenous the next day.
Patrick followed her into the kitchen where she pointed to a chair at the table. He obeyed, seating himself in the chair while he watched her fetch a mug from the cupboard.
“Still take it with just cream?”
He nodded, pleased that she remembered.
“I have some sausage and eggs I can fry up. Does that sound good?” She set the mug of coffee in front of him. His fingers brushed against hers, sending sparks of warmth spreading through him. Her gaze flashed to his and in that moment, he wondered if she’d felt the same electrical spark when their fingers connected.
“Sounds wonderful,” he said, smiling with contentment. Again, that sensation of rightness pervaded him. The world might be chaos beyond those doors, but inside this little cabin, here with this woman, was where he felt a sense of peace.
Jo backed away, surprise lingering in her eyes. She blinked, then bustled about the kitchen, pulling pans from cupboards and food from the refrigerator, then set about cooking breakfast.
She must be as shocked to see him as he was to be here. Never would Patrick have ever imagined taking a run and finding Jo at some random cabin in the woods. He never even dreamed such a thing could occur. Not even during those times when he thought about her and wondered if he’d ever see her again.
“Has the snow stopped?”
She sighed, a relieved smile touching her lips. “Yes, for the moment. But, according to the weather station, there’s more on the way. I thought I’d get out there to shovel a path to the car while I still could.”
“You should have woken me,” he said, not liking the thought of her taking on such a task by herself. “I would have helped you.”
She paused at the stove where she was tending to the sausage and eggs to glance at him, one ginger eyebrow raised. “And how do you think you would have managed shoveling with one arm?”
“Yeah,” he said, ignoring the sharp pain of reminder his shoulder sent. “Well, I would have tried.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “That’s why I didn’t wake you.”
She turned back to the stove, giving him the full view of her backside. She wore a comfy forest green sweater which emphasized the copper color of her hair which hung midway down her back. Her bottom half was clad in snug-fitting jeans that wrapped around her curves.
Jo had a beautiful body. Shapely, womanly. Patrick imagined running his hand along those curves, his fingers teasing her hips. She moved from the stove then, reaching into another cupboard for plates. The action brought his attention to her breasts. More curves for him to explore.
He sucked in a sharp breath, snapping his attention away from Jo to focus on the glossy grains of wood on the kitchen table.
Jo was his friend. He had no right to be fantasizing what it might feel like to trace any part of her skin with his fingertips. Nor should he be imagining what it might feel like to taste her, to lick the skin beneath her ear, to kiss her until she was breathless.
She was his friend.
He’d known her since he was a teenager. They’d just been kids, but she’d helped him during those months after he’d run away from home. Even after his father finally found him and took him away, she’d kept his secret. And then when he was older, he returned to that sleepy little town in upstate New York to find her attending high school and dating. She still never betrayed his secret. Never told a soul about his ability to shift into a cougar.
He trusted her. Trusted her with his life. She’d saved him with her friendship when they were young. At a time when he was uncertain of himself, his body, his abilities, she’d been there for him.
She was his friend. Always. He shouldn’t be thinking of her in any other way than friendship.
And she was married. The day she excitedly told him about her engagement was permanently etched in his brain. He should have been happy for her, but instead he’d felt a sourness ease into his stomach.
Married.
It was one reason he’d stopped coming to see her, stopped calling her. They were each making their own ways in life. Taking different paths that were no longer ran parallel with each other.
He’d been married, too.
Meredith.
His wife.
Surprisingly, the thought of Meredith didn’t erase any of his feelings toward Jo. He’d loved Meredith. More than life itself. But he also loved Jo. As a friend.
He did love Jo as a friend, didn’t he?
“Scrambled is fine, right?” Jo’s voice penetrated his deep thoughts. He lifted his gaze to find her standing in front of him, plate filled with steaming food in her hand.
“What?” He swallowed hard, rubbing his right hand along the rough denim covering his thigh as if that action might keep him from reaching out to her. He recalled what it felt like holding her in his arms in the foyer. He wanted to repeat that.
“Eggs,” she said, staring. “You like them scrambled, right? I can make something else if you want—”
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Scrambled is exactly how I like them.”
“You okay?” Jo set the plate of food in front of him, then set another for herself beside him. She pulled the chair out from under the table and sat next to him.
She was closer now. He could reach out, take her hand in his, kiss her knuckles and slide the back of her hand to feel the softness there against the rough growth of whiskers along his cheek.
He groaned.
These thoughts had to stop.
“Patrick? Are you in pain?” Jo’s eyes widened, and she leaned back, ready to stand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Aspirin. Your shoulder is hurting.”
And then he did the very thing he was urging himself not to do. He grabbed her arm, his large fingers wrapping around her delicate wrist. How easy would it be to pull her onto his lap, to kiss her soundly while their food grew cold? He’d be happy with that, as long as she would be, too.
She was married, dammit. Stop thinking these thoughts.
“No, I’m fine.” He smiled, but it felt forced. He imagined it must be some kind of goofy, lopsided grin.
She hesitated, staring at him doubtfully.
“Honest. I’m just… just so hungry.”
He released her hand and picked up a fork, shoveling food into his mouth. At the first taste of those fluffy, salty scrambled eggs on his tongue, his stomach growled audibly, confirming what he’d told her. He wasn’t lying. He was starving.
Jo settled back into her chair and picked up her own fork, but she paused, holding the utensil in midair. “Are you sure you don’t need any aspirin? I can get you some.”
“Later,” he said. “Eat. You must be hungry, too.”
She glanced at her plate of food, then nodded. “I am, but I want to look at your shoulder as soon as we’re done. I need to change the bandages, and we’ll need to make a sling for your arm.”
Her gaze fell onto his shoulder and the way he held his left arm stiffly close to his chest. Patrick could see her thoughts visibly displayed on her face.
“It can wait,” he said, knowing she was about to suggest getting that sling for him now. “I’m fine. Really. I’m okay.”
She smiled, nodding at his reassurance, then began to eat.
“This is delicious.”
“Thank you,” she said, and her smile widened at the praise. “You’re lucky I still had eggs left. I haven’t been to the store all week.”
“How long have you been living here?” Patrick’s gaze swept over the kitchen, again admiring the coziness of the cabin.
“A few months.” She spoke in between mouthfuls. “I have a friend who rents it out while he winters in Florida.”
“Nice friend.”
“He is.” She nodded, then reached for her mug of coffee and took a sip.
Patrick watched her for a few seconds, again admiring her ageless beauty. She appeared just as she had when she was younger, in college. He remembered visiting her on campus. After all these years, she hadn’t aged a bit.
But his chest ached with wanting and worry. He’d been through her cabin, taking in the surroundings. There was one thing missing.
“So, are these his clothes?” He waved his fork casually at his shirt, grateful to be sitting at the kitchen table with something other than a blanket to hide his nakedness. More than likely, these were her husband’s clothes. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
But that was the question, wasn’t it?
Where was her husband? Why didn’t he see any sign of Tim’s belongings lying about?
Patrick had seen only one toothbrush in the bathroom. Only peach blossom shampoo and conditioner. No sign of a man’s razor or shampoo. Nothing to indicate her husband was living in this cabin with her.
And why had he and Jo been shouting at each other?
“Or are these Tim’s?” He forced the words from his mouth, wishing not for the first time that he could carry clothes when he shifted into a cougar. Still, it was better than being naked.
At the mention of her husband, Jo’s shoulders tensed. It was a subtle movement, but Patrick had been watching for it.
She shook her head. “They’re Eric’s clothes. Good thing, too. Tim’s not your size.”
“Where is he, Jo?”
“Tim?” She repeated the name, her gaze falling to her plate as her delicate nose scrunched with distaste. He knew it wasn’t because she didn’t like the food. “He’s supposed to be in Oregon. That’s where he was when I left him.”
“What happened?” Again, Patrick forced the words. He gripped the fork so tightly in his hands he feared he might snap it. The memory of the man’s voice shouting angrily at Jo was still fresh in his mind. As was the moment he pulled a gun on him.
Chapter 5
“What happened?” Jo repeated, disliking the mere mention of her ex-husband. And where could she start, really? Her marriage had gone wonderfully well in the beginning. She’d genuinely thought Tim was her perfect match. She began to see it wasn’t so with small things. Little alarm bells going off in her head for certain things he did or said. At the time, she’d brushed the warnings aside. It was nothing. Until they became more frequent and not so easy to ignore. “Well, that’s a long story. Have you got a few years?”
Patrick glanced at the window over the sink where tiny snowflakes drifted off the roof when a gust of wind blew. “I’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere at the moment.”
She sipped her coffee, enjoying the warmth that permeated through the ceramic and into her hands. Her fingers were still chilled from earlier when she shoveled the snow off the path leading to her car.
She wanted, no… needed to be prepared to leave when Tim came back. He’d surprised her last night. She didn’t want that to happen again. If Patrick hadn’t come along as a distraction… Well, she didn’t want to think of what he might have done.
“Things didn’t work out between us.” Jo lifted her left hand in the air to display her ringless finger.
She shrugged her shoulders. This was Patrick. She could tell him the truth. He’d listen and offer a shoulder to cry on. But she didn’t want to him to think badly of her. She’d made mistakes. Plenty in her lifetime. Tim was one of them. She should have walked away from Tim long ago instead of staying with him as long as she did.
“I’m here.” Patrick’s deep, gravelly voice had grown soft. “I can listen.”
“I know.” She smiled, irritated by the burning beneath her eyelids. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She’d spent enough tears on Tim. He didn’t deserve them.
“I heard the tone of his voice… And yours…” Patrick hesitated, making her wonder what exactly he’d heard. How long had he listened to them before he stepped forward in the brush to make his presence known?
What if he hadn’t been there? Jo didn’t want to think of what might have happened. It was bad enough that Patrick had been shot because of his interference last night.
The thought of what might have happened to Patrick… It was too much to think about.
“I’m so sorry he shot you!” The words tumbled out of Jo’s mouth, stringing together to sound like one word. Tears threatened to unleash despite her efforts to hold them back. The thought of Patrick dying… It sent chills through her, made her stomach twist in unruly knots.
“Jo…”
Her tears surprised him. She could hear it in his voice. She brushed the wetness from her cheeks and forced a smile.
“Sorry, I’m just…” She bit her lip. The things she wanted to say to him hovered near the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t brave enough to tell him. She could never tell him. Never explain how the way she felt about him was more than friendship. It had always been more than friendship, but the timing of it had all been wrong. There was never a good time. He was with someone, or then she was with someone. And she had never wanted to ruin her friendship with him by saying the wrong thing.
But the thought of him dying sent her brain into overdrive. What if she never got a chance to tell him how much she cared for him? To let him know how her feelings for him had grown over the years. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? Much too late. There was Meredith to consider. Jo would never want to come between Patrick and his wife.
“I’m just so thankful you’re alive. The thought of what might have happened… It chills me.”
“I’m okay, Jo.” Patrick’s voice rumbled deep. “I’m okay.”
She nodded, trying to keep the smile plastered on her face. It wasn’t convincing. He pushed back from his chair and stood, touching her elbow.
“Come here,” he said, placing slight pressure on her arm to stand. She did so and the moment she was on her feet, he brought her into his warm embrace.
She didn’t resist. No, she wanted this. More than anything, she wanted to be held by him again. To place her cheek against his chest, feel his heartbeat and breath against her face. She closed her eyes, soaking in the sensation, enjoying the fluttering happening low in her belly.
“I’m here, Jo. I’m okay.”
She leaned against him, imagining for a second he was hers to keep. What a gift that would be! She knew deep in her heart that Patrick would never treat her the way Tim had. Instead of tossing insults, he’d offer encouragement. He’d never make her feel guilty for the time she spent helping others, he’d most likely join her. She could never imagine Patrick wanting her to change her body, he’d like her just as she was.
“You’re okay, too,” he whispered against her ear. “Whatever happened… I’m here now.”
So many thoughts spiraled through her brain, desires and yearnings she long suppressed. Her chest ached from it; her heart felt like it would explode from the feelings she held locked within it.
Jo enjoyed the sensation of Patrick’s body pressed against her, but she knew it couldn’t last. She leaned back to look at his face, her mouth open to say… something, but her thoughts dissipated as soon as her gaze met his blue eyes.
There was something in there she hadn’t seen before, not directly. At times over the years, she thought she’d caught glimpses of what she saw now. But Jo had been so young and insecure in those early years. Surel
y, Patrick would never look at her like that. They were just friends.
But she was older and wiser now. Jo had learned a thing or two about reading expressions. The look she saw on Patrick’s face was hunger… and not the hunger that could be satisfied with food.
His blue eyes darkened as his gaze lowered to her lips. She felt the touch of them as if it were physical. Her mouth tingled with anticipation; her heart leapt at the possibility.
She wanted him to kiss her.
Kissing him was something she had dreamed about for endless nights.
The way his head tilted, the heat she saw flickering in his eyes, her lips parted on their own volition, anticipating that much desired kiss. She held her breath and closed her eyes… and saw Meredith.
Sweet, beautiful Meredith.
The love of Patrick’s life.
Jo tensed. She turned her face away from Patrick, not wanting to see that expression in his eyes.
It had been a mistake. Her mistake. She imagined it and surely, she was a fool for glimpsing what she thought was the desire to kiss her in his eyes.
She felt Patrick’s arms stiffen at her movement. Jo took a step back, away from the warmth of the man she wanted most in this world. But she had to. She couldn’t make a fool of herself. And she would never make any attempt to seduce him away from his wife.
So, Jo stepped back, her hands trembling as she turned toward the kitchen table and picked up her empty plate to rinse and place in the sink. Even her knees wobbled, but she stood tall. She couldn’t let Patrick see how much his embrace had affected her. Should she apologize? But for what? She hadn’t kissed him. But she felt like she needed to apologize for wanting to kiss him.
Jo shook her head slightly as she debated with herself. It was probably best to pretend that near kiss had never happened. Most likely, it was her imagination. Her desperate need that made her think she was seeing desire in his eyes.
Yet, when she glanced over her shoulder to face him, Patrick’s eyes continued to hold the heat she thought she’d seen.
