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Authors: Emily March

Angel's Rest (14 page)

BOOK: Angel's Rest
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“Oh, you feel good, Callahan,” she purred. “How can you be so warm? Are you hiding a heater or something?”

A heater? Was that a come-on? Or was she just clueless? He wished he could see her expression to help him judge. Wryly he replied, “Or something.”

Gabe had big hands, and they’d always been strong. They massaged her petite feet with firm, vigorous motions while keeping them nestled against his skin. “You should be wearing heavier socks.”

“You’re right. I dressed for book club rather than the weather. Sheriff Turner’s sister is visiting from Boston for Christmas, and she’s going to be there. Last time we met I’d just helped a horse give birth and I was a mess. Vanity is my downfall tonight.”

Gabe smoothed his thumbs along her instep and tried to recall if vanity was considered one of the seven deadly sins or not. He knew that lust was.

“I want you to know that I’m usually better prepared than this,” Nic continued. “Shoot, I carry chemical hand warmers in my purse this time of year.”

“Too bad you didn’t bring your purse with you to the basement.”

“Tell me about it. I also have an emergency candy bar tucked inside.” She let out a sigh, then added, “I’d let you have the whole thing. I’m starting to feel my toes again.”

Conversation lagged following that exchange, and eventually Gabe decided she’d dropped off to sleep. He relaxed, dropping his guard. His hands continued their ministrations, never straying beyond her ankles, but his thoughts began to wander.

What if this were summertime instead of the middle of winter? Would she wear sandals on these feet? Would she wear shorts? Form-fitting tanks? Or maybe a short, flirty sundress? He loved sundresses on beautiful women.

Just when his touch shifted from therapeutic to intimate, he couldn’t say. He explored her. He learned that
her ankles were slim, her toes long and slender. He discovered she was ticklish on her instep. He deduced she wore polish on her toenails, and he contemplated what color. Fire engine red, he’d bet. Like her lipstick.

Time ticked by. Her feet warmed beneath his touch. A gradual awareness that her muscles had grown taut distracted him from his musings.

Nic Sullivan wasn’t asleep. She was awake and aware and … tense.

Gabe’s hands froze. He held his breath. He sensed rather than saw her come up on her elbows.

Her voice held a husky note as it emerged from the darkness. “Gabe?”

He hesitated a long moment, aware that he stood at the edge of a dangerous precipice. Yearning tempted him, pulled him forward. It had been so long. The warm human touch felt so good. It would be so easy. And yet …

He spoke past a lump in his throat. “I miss my wife.”

The moment passed as she exhaled a shaky breath. “It’s hard to be alone.”

Then Nic sat all the way up and tugged her feet away from him. He felt the loss of contact keenly. As she pulled on her socks, Gabe dropped his head back, shut his eyes, and gritted his teeth.

A good five minutes passed before she spoke again, her voice soft and gentle and warm with compassion. “Thanks for taking care of me, Gabe.”

Thankful for the shadows that hid the single tear trailing down his cheek, he replied, “My pleasure.”

The book club saved the day.

Nic realized help had arrived when she heard the boxer’s excited
arf arf
on the other side of the basement door. She quickly rose and ran up the stairs in her stocking
feet. Pounding on the door, she called, “Hello? Hello? Is someone out there?”

A minute later, light spilled into the dark basement as the door swung open. “Here she is!” Sarah called out. To Nic she said, “I knew you wouldn’t miss the chance to talk about Ruark Beauchamp. He has to be the hottest man ever—Oh. Hi, Gabe.”

“You are a welcome sight, Sarah,” he said as he started up the staircase.

Nic stepped into the entry hallway, explaining how they’d ended up stuck in the basement as Sage joined them.

“When you didn’t show up, Glenda Hawkins said she’d noticed your truck was still here when she locked up the Bristlecone,” Sage said. “I thought you’d forgotten the meeting.”

“I knew better,” Sarah said. “Although we almost didn’t come look for you.”

Nic frowned and started to ask why not, but Sarah’s significant glance toward Gabe answered the question. Undoubtedly Glenda had mentioned seeing his Jeep, too.

Gabe slipped past the women, saying, “I appreciate the rescue. It was cold down there. I’m going to head out. G’night.” He looked at Nic but didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’d better get something on your feet before you’re walking on ice cubes again.”

“I will.” She smiled, but he didn’t see it since he was already heading for the front door. When it shut behind him, Nic said, “Well, that was awkward.”

“A locked-in-the-basement-together story,” Sarah said, her eyes gleaming. “Spill the details. Was it romantic? Did he tuck you against him and keep you warm? Or maybe … did you play Shanna and Ruark in the prison? You can be witchy like Shanna, Nic. I think
Gabe has what it takes to be Ruark, but I really need to see him without his shirt first.”

“Oh, stop it.” Nic wanted to leave right then, but she had to return to the basement first. “My boots are downstairs. You stay here so I don’t end up trapped again.”

Gabe had smothered the candles, but he’d left the flashlight shining. Nic hurried down the stairs, grabbed her boots, then turned around—and ran into Sarah. “Of course you followed me.”

“Bearskins? Wine? Candlelight? Nicole Sullivan! Tell me this was as fun as it looks.”

Nic pulled on her boots. “You want the truth or fantasy?”

“Hmm …” Sarah tapped a finger against her lips as she followed Nic upstairs. “I have fantasy waiting at book group in the guise of Ruark Beauchamp, so I guess I want the truth.”

Stepping out into the hallway, Nic looked at both her friends and sighed. “The truth is that the man is still in love with his dead wife.”

“That’s so sad,” Sage said, handing Nic her coat.

“Well, shoot,” Sarah added. “In that case, there’s only one thing left to do. Let’s go to book group and drink rum punch.”

“Rum punch?” Nic asked.

“Hey, it might be the middle of winter here, but that novel you picked took me to a lush Caribbean paradise. With a shirtless stud. What else would we drink?”

Nic laughed and followed her friends out into the cold winter night. Later that night she went to sleep and dreamed about Caribbean beaches.

And a shirtless hero with scars on his skin … and on his soul.

SEVEN

Demon dreams woke Gabe a week before Christmas and sent him down into town even earlier than his norm. He almost took the day off completely to spend it skiing or hiking or chopping wood—anything physically demanding that would purge the ghosts from his mind. But since today’s chore was hauling rocks, which would both serve his physical needs and create something worthwhile in the process, work held more appeal than sports.

The morning dawned in a palette of pinks and purples above evergreen mountains dusted with snow. The air was cold, the wind quiet. It was a place of beauty and peace, and Gabe sensed the tension within himself easing as he approached Eternity Springs.

For no real reason, he decided to take the loop around the lake on the way to Cavanaugh House.

Formed hundreds of years ago by an earth slide that dammed Angel Creek, Hummingbird Lake was one of the most picturesque places Gabe had ever seen. A little less than a mile around, the lake had been sapphire blue and surrounded by the golds and oranges and greens of autumn when Gabe arrived in town. Today it was an expanse of white ringed with Christmas trees and brought to life by a slight figure dressed in red and black.

Gabe watched the skater fly across the ice. He needed to try that. He’d been on ice skates only twice in his
life—both times as boy when his folks took the family to the indoor ice rink in downtown Fort Worth. Competent Rollerbladers, the Texan Callahan boys had all taken to the ice like Minnesotans. Surely he could pick it up again without too much effort.

The skater straightened out of a tucked position, and in that moment he knew it was her. Knew he should stay away.

Drawn by forces he had no will to resist, he turned in to the park on the west side of the lake. He pulled up beside her truck, grabbed his cup of coffee, and stepped out into the cold. Leaning against the front of his jeep, he watched Nicole Sullivan skate toward him.

“Good morning,” she called, smiling brightly, her breath creating clouds of vapor on the air.

“Hi.”

It was just about the only word he could manage. The woman wore leggings and a sweater that clung to her ample, tantalizing curves. She was breathing heavily.

“Did you come to skate?” she asked, tugging off red-and-black earmuffs.

He shook his head, took a sip of coffee, then asked, “Should you be out here by yourself? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’m not alone,” she replied, pointing toward the shoreline across the lake and waving. Two figures waved back. “Sarah and her daughter, Lori, are with me.”

“Oh. I didn’t see them.” He’d had eyes for only Nic. It was the first time he’d seen her since being trapped in the basement four days ago.

She skated to the edge of the lake, then stepped onto land, walking as naturally in skates as she did in high heels. “They challenged me to a race, but then gave up when I took a substantial lead.” The grin she flashed was saucy and warmed him as surely as the coffee. “I am good, Callahan.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

She walked to a nearby bench piled high with shoes and outerwear, sat down, and unlaced her skates. Gabe’s gaze focused on her foot, and for a moment he was back in the basement with his hands on her leg.

“So what brings you to Hummingbird this early in the day?” she asked.

Distracted, he said, “Hmm?”

“If you didn’t come to skate, are you here to go ice fishing?”

“Oh.” He shook his head. “No. I was just taking the long way to work. It’s a pretty morning. Beautiful.” Beautiful. She was beautiful, with her cheeks rosy, her blue eyes sparkling, and her blond ponytail sliding like silk over her shoulders. Her petite but lush curves were on glorious display in the tight-fitting clothes. His fingers itched to reach out and touch.

His own body had gone hard as a rock, and he knew he needed to leave. Right now.

“It is gorgeous today. When Sarah called and said she’d decided to let Lori cut class this morning so they could go skating and they wanted me to tag along, I couldn’t say no. I haven’t enjoyed winter very much lately, and I’m determined to change that this year.

“If the hot springs weren’t overrun with contractors building your park, I’d insist we hit the pools next. A long, hot soak sounds heavenly right now.” She extended her leg and wiggled her toes. “My feet are freezing again.”

Gabe took a step back, both mentally and physically. “I would think you’d learn to keep your shoes on.”

“Good point, Callahan.” She shoved her feet into sheepskin-lined boots, then stood and pulled on a coat, which allowed Gabe to breathe easier. “We’re heading over to the Mocha Moose for breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

He glanced out at the lake and spied Sarah and her daughter skating toward them. They were laughing and holding hands. Gabe realized he wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes so badly that there was really only one response he could give. “No, thanks. I’d better get to work.”

He retreated to his Jeep, gave a wave, and said, “Enjoy your day.”

He accidentally spun the tires as he left the park’s parking lot. As he drove toward the heart of town, he had to consciously loosen his viselike grip on the steering wheel. “What’s the matter with you?” he muttered aloud.

Oh, he knew what the matter was with him. After almost a year of absence, his libido had awakened. Fierce. Ferocious. Hungry.

He filled his lungs with air, then exhaled in a rush. His body wanted sex. Sweaty, physical, down-and-dirty sex.

His mind wanted sweaty, physical, down-and-dirty sex with Jen.

That he couldn’t have. Never again. Jen, his beloved Jen, was gone.

So what are you going to do about it, Callahan?
the devil on his shoulder asked.

The still-grieving husband answered aloud. “This morning I intend to move a ton of rock.” After a glance at the dashboard thermometer, he added, “In twelve-degree weather.”

On the afternoon of December 23, Celeste Blessing invited the entire town of Eternity Springs to a Christmas open house, to share company and good cheer and to see the progress of the renovations. Evergreen garlands and wreaths sporting big red bows welcomed visitors as they arrived. Rumor had it that she’d imported the life-sized crèche erected on the front lawn from Italy.

Inside Cavanaugh House, the aroma of hot gingerbread perfumed the air and holiday decorations abounded. Most were true Victorian antiques unearthed from the boxes and crates now cleared from the downstairs rooms. Celeste had added her own touches, however, and as a result, angels in one form or another could be found in every room.

With kitchen renovations completed and with Sarah’s and Lori’s help, Celeste had baked for days in preparation for the party. Tables all but groaned beneath the weight of cookies and cakes, fudge and candy. Throughout the afternoon, Nic hovered near the sugar cookies on the entry hall table, not because of a sweet tooth attack but out of a desire to keep a close eye on arrivals. The person she waited for never arrived. When she heard the grandfather clock strike five, she finally admitted to herself that Gabe wasn’t coming.

BOOK: Angel's Rest
10.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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