Can't Fight This Feeling (26 page)

While she’d be watching a wedding-gown marathon, please God.

“You think...you think you’d be the best to interview me?”

“If not...well, this is an interesting town. Without you, I might end up reporting on that string of burglaries I’ve been hearing about.” She hesitated. “And the rumors that the Walkers might be responsible.”

Angelica went cold to her bones. This was how the woman was Brett’s “friend”? But she kept her expression free of the disdain she felt for Lorraine. “I see. But there’re other stations—”

“Channel Six barely beats us in ratings. Their financial reporter, Sean Marks—he’s an asshole.”

Sean Marks. Channel Six. Angelica made mental note, then met Lorraine’s eyes. “Let me think about it, talk to my attorney.”

“An interview is the way to go. You need to start thinking about yourself.”

“Yes.” Angelica nodded. She did need to start thinking about herself. And
for
herself. With a new certainty of purpose, she headed for the hardware store’s back door. No longer was she going to let circumstances bat her about.

It was time to take real charge of her life.

* * *

K
EEP
CALM
, G
LORY
admonished herself, even as she did a little jig while pulling food from the refrigerator.
You’re only having a man over for dinner.
No reason to feel so...uncontained, even though she’d had wild sex the night before in the cab of a truck.

Even though the man coming to dinner was the man she’d had wild sex with. Even though he was the man she’d fallen in love with.

At the sudden thought, Glory nearly dropped the head of lettuce in her hands, and she had to juggle it along with the tomato and the cucumber. When she managed to control them, she shut the fridge with her hip while trying to calm her skipping heartbeat.

She was in love?

She couldn’t be in love.

Her acquaintance with Kyle Scott only went back a few weeks, and during one of those he’d been gone. A person didn’t fall in such a short time—didn’t that go against the laws of nature or something?

But then she had a mental picture of the two of them on that table the day before. Herself telling Kyle that the lake had been expected to take three years to fill and instead had taken three days.

The world could work that way.

Dropping the produce on the countertop, she placed her hand over her stomach, which was doing flips and turns like a kid hopped-up on sugar. All of her felt that way, revved and just a little bit nauseous.

“Get a grip, Glory,” she said out loud.

But still, she nearly jumped out of her shoes when she heard the knock on her front door. She had only a few steps to gain some kind of composure—her bungalow was just that small—and she supposed she might still look a little bit green because he gave her a quizzical glance when she opened the door.

“Okay?”

“Mmm. Yeah,” she said, bright as a button. “Come in.”

And he did, walking right to her and yanking her close for a kiss, bending her over his arm and laying it on, hot and intense. She stumbled back, blinking, when he let her go.

“Is that a smirk?” she demanded, straightening her shirt and trying to look annoyed, even though she was considering dragging him straight to the bedroom.

“I think it’s my smug look,” he said. “I can’t help it. God, you’re beautiful.”

Swoon!

Then he glanced around, taking in the living room and kitchen and tiny dining area that were really all one space. “Nice.”

She waved a hand. “Some people call it open concept. I, on the other hand, realize it’s merely small. There’s a bathroom and one bedroom down the hall.”

He glanced that way, then gave her a little smile. Smug smile. “Maybe you’ll give me a tour later.”

“Maybe,” she countered, trying to sound airy and unconcerned and not at all like a woman who was
in love
!

“You live here long?” he asked, following her the short distance to the kitchen area.

“About a year. The people who had it before me used it as a weekend and vacation place. They lived—”

“Down the hill,” he finished for her.

She nodded. “Then they got too busy with work to come up very often and I got the chance to have it. I love how it’s nestled in the big pines and that there’s a creek out front.” You had to cross a footbridge to reach the front door, which gave it a fairy-tale quality to Glory.

With her very own lover within its walls, it seemed even more fantastical. She pulled a beer from the refrigerator for him and sipped at her glass of wine as she began chopping vegetables. “What about you? I just realized I don’t know where you’ve been living.”

So cautious, she’d avoided most things personal, worrying she’d become too invested in him. But now she wanted to know everything.

“The house I’m working on...the owner’s letting me stay there.”

“Oh. That’s great.” It made her worry a little, though. Money must be tight. “You shouldn’t have been paying for those dinners out we’ve had.”

“Glory—”

“I know I said we’d trade picking up the restaurant tabs.” She punished the cucumber because she couldn’t stab herself for her inconsideration.

“You’re making dinner for me tonight,” he pointed out.

She glanced up. Smiled. Because making dinner for him meant now she felt safe having him in her home. Her heart was no longer at risk. It was already lost.

She allowed herself a moment to study him, her gaze tracing him with a lover’s intensity. His hair was longer than it had been when they’d first met and wavy at the ends. His lean features were handsome and masculine, and his dark eyes were more black than brown.

If they had children, would there be blue-eyed brunettes and dark-eyed blonds? She thought the combination of their DNA would create strong and smart mountain kids...who would ultimately be roped to the hardware store like she was.

Roped...?

“Glory? What is it?”

She shook herself, refusing to let her mind delve into that random, uncomfortable thought. “I’m okay,” she said, throwing the vegetables into the salad bowl on top of the torn lettuce. “So...which do you like? Cats or dogs?”

“I’m an equal opportunity pet person. Except for tarantulas. And iguanas.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Fish are okay, but watching them as a screensaver is simpler than aquarium care.”

“You spend a lot of time on a computer?” she asked, trying to see him bellied up to a keyboard. It was easier to imagine him with a hammer or a paintbrush. “Do you actually type or do you do the two-fingered hunt-and-peck?”

“Uh...” He looked away. “I like to watch those videos of kittens scared by paper coming out of printers just like everyone else.”

The oven dinged and Glory pulled out the chicken casserole she’d made from her mom’s “company” recipe—one that harked back to her childhood. It was really nothing special, Glory realized as she’d grown older. Cans of soup and stuffing mix. Her mother was into more complicated dishes now that she’d taken those cooking classes at the gourmet chef’s shop in the village.

“Do you have family?” she asked, as she dished out plates.

He carried them both to the table she’d set for two. “Oh, yeah. Parents. And I have a brother and a sister. You’re a lonely only, though.”

That’s right. She’d told him that once. “I envy you siblings.”

“Because you weren’t tortured enough as a child? My sister let her friends put makeup on me when I was four and then they took pictures. They blackmailed me with those for the next ten years.”

She had to grin. “And your brother?”

Kyle took a bite of the chicken, made an appreciative noise. “So good. The food—not my brother. Once when my parents were gone he locked me out on the upstairs balcony so he didn’t have to let me have a turn at the video game.”

“I’m guessing you were the youngest.”

He nodded, but there was enough of a smile showing that she figured it hadn’t all been painful. “Not an enviable position.”

“Still...” Glory sampled the food and was happy to note it tasted fine to her, too. “As my parents age, I realize it’s going to be up to me alone to take care of them.”

“Don’t they have a lot of good years left?”

“Sure.” She waved her fork. “They’re in excellent health and all that. But my dad’s retired and I swear, if he doesn’t find a hobby, my mom might just murder him. Then I’ll have the sole responsibility for visiting her in the clink.”

“The clink.” He grinned at her.

The smile made her stomach jitter again. She wanted it beaming her way, morning, noon and night.

“You know,” he went on. “If you have someone in your life...a man at your side, you won’t be alone. There won’t be such a thing as a ‘sole responsibility.’”

God, Glory thought. Even the burden of Hallett Hardware could be shared. That notion exploded like a beautiful dream in her head. Technicolor with stereo sound. Clasped hands. Twined bodies. Merged lives.

Glory + Kyle 4-ever.

The idea continued to surge inside her, filling empty spaces that had been there for so long. For too long, she’d felt so solitary.

How weird, that isolation. She lived in a small town where everyone had known her from birth. Each day, people came into her hardware store with greetings and news, and yet she still felt like her own island in the mountains. Maybe because her community was so certain they knew her, from heart to soul. They expected her dream was the life she was living behind the cash register at Hallett’s.

There won’t be such a thing as a “sole responsibility.”

Her head came up and her voice was full of wonder. “How do you know to say these things to me?”

He shrugged, his gaze trained on her face. “I just...talk to you. I told you I was rusty and I am, or was, anyway. I wasn’t out there dating and practicing pickup lines these past few years. But conversation with you...it seems easy.”

“You made a few mistakes at first,” she reminded him.

“But you cut me some slack. How come?”

Because I fell in love with you. I think I fell in love with you at first sight. At least over that first beer. That day you brought me double dill pickles for sure.

When she stayed silent, he set down his fork and wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin. “Glory... What’s going to happen in January?”

She blinked. “I put the Christmas lights on sale. Any leftover tree stands I stow away to sell next year.”

Laughing a little, he reached out to grab her hand. “I wasn’t talking about the store. I was talking about Stu.”

“Stu?” She stared at their laced fingers, thrilled by Kyle’s touch. Thrilled by the symbolism. The two of them, joined. “There’s not going to be any Stu.”

Kyle brought their hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “That’s my girl.”

“Because that’s exactly what I am,” Glory whispered. “Your girl.” The words could no longer be held inside because she was no longer fettered, the bubbling essence of her breaking free. “I’m in love with you.”

Horror came on the heels of the admission. How could she have spilled that? It was too soon, not safe, stupid. Stupid.
Stupid!

Pulling her hand free of Kyle’s she leaped to her feet. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything.” Panic flooded her bloodstream, icy, like the water of Lake Arthur in autumn.

“Glory—”

“I have to...to...” She looked around wildly, her gaze dropping on the package she’d brought home from the hardware store. Racing to it, she called over her shoulder. “Something came in for you today. Angelica said you ordered an address plaque?”

Walking back, she began tearing at the brown wrapping so she didn’t have to see his face. “We always check them before handing them over to the customer, but this arrived right before closing.”

“Glory—”

“Sometimes the company gets the numbers or letters wrong...” Her words trailed away as she stared at the square stone, address and name carved deeply and painted white so it stood out cleanly against the black background.

“1493 Cedar Summit,” she read aloud. “I know where that is.” One of the fanciest streets in the most exclusive of the mountain enclaves. There was no home there worth less than five million dollars. It wasn’t the address or the likely worth of the place he was working on that gave her pause, that made her feel as if something was about to drop on her from overhead. She went so far as to glance upward. Then she shifted her gaze back to Kyle. “It says ‘Scott’ on this plaque.”

He stood from his chair. “About that...”

“Is the house...your house?”

“No. Well, yes. I bought it, but it’s not my house. I bought it for my parents.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “I meant to tell you before. I meant to tell you long ago.”

“You bought the house. You bought a house on Cedar Summit for your parents.” A housepainter didn’t do that. Not a handyman, either. She’d told him he could put a flyer on the bulletin board at Hallett’s. Offered to recommend him to potential clients. Said he shouldn’t be buying her dinner, when he’d actually purchased a piece of prime mountain real estate.