Unexpectedly You (8 page)

“You’re blushing, and it’s very sexy.” He laughed.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

He didn’t know why he found it so amusing to get her riled up. But he loved to see her green eyes shoot deadly aims straight at his heart. He loved to see the color infuse her skin, making her appear wild and alive. She may want to hide behind her oversized clothing and beehive of curls, but beneath it, he’d bet his entire life savings that Emma was one hot babe. What the hell was he talking about? He fucking did bet his entire life savings on her ability to charm a man. Granted, a different man. But shouldn’t he at least test the waters and make sure she was up to the task?

* * *

Emma’s throat constricted and she couldn’t help but feel suffocated, being so close to Mitch inside the truck. “Do I have your agreement about tonight?” Her very deliberate attempt to change the subject widened his smile in a dangerous way that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to exactly.”

“You are agreeing to behave neighborly. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression about us.”

“How does that help my case? How am I supposed to believe you’ll have my back when you can’t even pretend to like me?”

“I can pretend to like you.” Her gaze shifted to a small glass vial filled with sand hanging from his rearview mirror.

“Yeah? Prove it.”

She licked her parched lips. “And just how am I supposed to prove it to you?”

He killed the engine. When he unbuckled his seat belt and scooted over closer to her, her breath caught in her throat and tension built up in her stomach.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His hand reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Being neighborly.”

She swiped at his hands. “Stop that.” His nearness had her pulse rate idling at sixty and accelerating to one-twenty faster than she could blink. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which still held his lazy smile. Dorinda was right. When Mitch turned on his charm switch, it was high octane.

“Come on. Are you forgetting I saw you with Bruin yesterday? Don’t even pretend you don’t know I was watching you.”

“What’s your point?”

“I want you to be friendly like that with me. I want to make sure, before we go in front of all of these people, that you seem as if you at least like me.”

“No one will believe that. They know how I feel about you.”

His eyes hardened. “Then you have some work to do, because we don’t have a whole hell of a lot of time. Do I have to remind you of the stakes?”

“You don’t have to remind me of the stakes. I live it every day.”

“Then you’d better get moving. Here, I’ll make it easy for you. Just pretend you’re giving me a friendly, neighborly kiss.”

She grabbed her bingo bag with jittery hands and scooted as far from him as the space would allow. “No! That’s ridiculous. I don’t go around kissing my neighbors.”

“Are you afraid you’ll hate it or like it too much?”

“Save your charm. It does nothing for me. I want this night to be G-rated. Think Disney.”

Mitch shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a G-rated movie.” Again, he reached for a strand of her hair and twirled it between his fingers.

In one quick move, she scooped up her hair and flung it behind her back. “I said stop that.”

Instead of heeding her demand, he focused his attention on her face, tracing his fingers along her jaw, inching toward her slightly parted mouth. “I may need a demonstration as to what actually constitutes as G-rated.”

He was going to kiss her and she really needed to stop him but instead her gaze fell on his full lips, curved up at the corners in that arrogant way she detested. Except when she found it incredibly sexy. Like now. She drew in the musky scent of his aftershave.

He leaned in, his breath fanning her face. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on her. He was so close, all she needed to do was move a few inches. The intensity of his gaze blocked the air from getting through to her lungs. She felt dizzy with anticipation.

Heat spread through her extremities. Her blood turned into lava. She felt exhilarated. Exposed. Excited. She shut her eyes and lifted her face toward his.

Nothing.

In slow motion, she peeled open heavy lids and then instantly cringed inside when she saw the amusement hidden behind his deep blue eyes. He was playing with her. Her blatant invitation was funny to him. Whereas his actions created turmoil inside her body, he was blissfully unaffected.

Dear God.
Could I be any more pathetic?

Before she could pull back from the magnetic force of his nearness, he lowered his head. She was prepared this time and kept the kiss as chaste and unoriginal as she could manage.

He straightened slowly, watching her. “How old were you when you got married?”

Her gaze fell to her tightly clasped fingers and she tried to slow her breathing. She prayed he couldn’t hear what sounded like a child with a new set of drums in her chest. “Why do you want to know?”

“Was your husband your only sexual experience?”

Fury spread to her temples, making the roots of her hair itch. She shot him a look that she hoped made him squirm like a little boy. “That’s none of your business!”

“You kiss like a teenager.”

His words had the desired effect, reminding her she was a thirty-five-year-old widow with a seventeen-year-old daughter. She was not a sexy twentysomething who made out in parked cars. The sharp contrast cut deep, bringing shame along with a twinge of sadness. She unbuckled her seat belt. “Good, now you know what I mean by G-rated.”

Chapter Eight

Mitch waved to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson as he waited for Emma behind the large wooden entry doors of the VFW. Cars with their hazards blinking lined the street. One by one, the rank and file of Bella Del Mar scurried out of the torrential downpour.

“Nice job tonight, Mitch,” another neighbor said with a salute before disappearing into his waiting minivan.

Mitch scrunched his palms together and grimaced. He was covered in sticky nacho cheese, smelled like cheap wine and had a plastic gnome sticking out of his breast pocket. Despite Emma’s obvious intent to make their first official outing miserable for him, he didn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.

He smiled. Emma hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left his truck in a huff earlier, other than to introduce him around to folks he didn’t know and then give him instructions on how to validate the numbers on the card when someone yelled bingo.

Evidently he’d hit a hot button by criticizing her kissing ability. Not that he’d meant to—it was just that he remembered how animated and open she was with Bruin but so detached and cold to him. He wanted to get a reaction from her and yet, when it seemed as if she’d let her guard down, he’d balked.

Last night, in his trailer, he’d felt a spark of what he would definitely call sexual attraction. Tonight, he wanted to know if it was real or just a fluke brought on by liquor.

But comparing her to a teenager caused a different kind of spark, one that had her royally pissed off. So, while he’d spent the last three and a half hours running from one end of the room to the other as the mostly blue-haired ladies handed him their winning cards, Emma had sat comfy and hydrated up on the podium, calling out the winning numbers.

Mitch heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Emma and Lorraine, the woman who owned Cutter’s Away salon. He’d gotten a trim from Lorraine a few times in the past few months. Rather than being a Bella Del Mar local, she was a transplant from Minnesota. She was one of the few ladies in town who was pleasant to him.

Apparently neither woman saw him. As they neared, their voices carried, and he began to hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

Lorraine’s normally high-pitched voice lowered to a hush. “So you came here together? Like a date?”

“God, no. Definitely not a date.”

“Then what’s going on? I thought you couldn’t stand the air he breathed. Not that I blame you. The guy is goodness in one sexy package. And you know, he has a shapely head with really good hair.”

“It’s complicated,” Emma replied.

“You Oregonians make things complicated. We Minnesotans prefer simple. Back home he’d be called sex-on-a-stick.”

Mitch frowned.
Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Emma laughed. “Sex-on-a-stick? We’re more evolved in the Pacific Northwest. We prefer our sex sticks to be battery-operated.”

Mitch’s jaw dropped and he shook his head to make sure he’d heard that right.

An unladylike snort erupted from Lorraine. Both ladies still had grins on their faces when they stepped outside and found him leaning against the wall, his arms across his chest.

He arched his brows. “Ladies.”

Lorraine’s eyes bulged, her smile wiped clean. “Hey, Mitch. Night, you two.” She sprinted down the steps to her parked car.

Emma’s step faltered but the mischief remained visible in her eyes. She busied herself with the zipper of her raincoat and averted his gaze by snapping her hood in place.

“After you,” he urged.

He never would have guessed Emma LeFleur had a bawdy side. She continued to surprise him.

Mitch studied the gentle sway of her hips as he walked behind her and felt the unmistakable surge in his groin. No fluke here. Emma turned him on. He had no clue why, since she wasn’t his type at all. Maybe it was that he couldn’t figure her out. She was a contradiction. To her good friends she exuded this warm, funny and, as he’d just witnessed, raunchy side. But for the most part, and especially to him, she remained reserved. Like someone had stuck a steel rod straight up her spine.

More than anything, he wanted to knock her off her holier-than-thou throne. It nagged him that she was letting others dictate how she should live her life. He didn’t doubt her pain or her loss. But he hadn’t imagined the glimmer of passion he saw in her eyes. And those lips. Holy shit. The woman had the sexiest he’d seen by far. When she’d offered her mouth so willingly to him earlier, he had to forcibly stop himself from devouring her in the fucking parking lot of the VFW. So, instead, he’d pretended it was funny. Except the joke was on him.

It was obvious to him that her friends and neighbors respected her and were very protective of her. He’d seen the curious stares when they’d first arrived. True to her word, Emma had introduced him around before leaving him to fend for himself.

It didn’t take long after being around the older ladies of Bella Del Mar, however, that Mitch had had enough of hearing about Stefan LeFleur. No one could possibly live up to that kind of baggage. The fucking guy sounded like a saint.

He’d finally figured out why Emma had asked for the favor. She was scared shitless of having everyone think she wasn’t honoring Stefan’s memory. Mitch could only imagine the stress of trying to live up to people’s expectations. And the amount of gumption it would take for her to move on. The guilt alone would drive him to his grave.

He made sure she was safely tucked in her seat, all buckled up prim and proper before he slid the key into the ignition and revved the engine. “Feel all that
Optima YellowTop
high performance under the hood? Turns me on every time.”

Her lids snapped shut.

He chuckled inside. He wanted her to know he’d heard her bawdy remark. She might be able to fool the rest of the town with her ‘I’m doing just fine all by myself’ credo, but she couldn’t pull one past him. It might not be his place to remind her, but life didn’t end at thirty-five. Her body knew it, even if her heart denied it.

More than once, he’d felt Emma’s gaze on him. He’d even caught her reluctant smile when he’d twirled Mrs. Johnson around in an impromptu waltz. The brief connection with Emma had stirred something inside him. It was as if she’d cracked open her carefully armored shell and allowed him to experience the world through her eyes. For a moment, he’d reveled in a feeling of belonging. And it floored him.

What would it be like to be a part of her life? A life she fiercely protected and cherished. Tonight, he’d seen firsthand a different side of Emma LeFleur, the side her friends and family knew. If he wasn’t careful, he’d begin to crave more, and he couldn’t risk wanting something he wouldn’t know how to keep.

Chapter Nine

Emma jumped every time the door chimed, signaling a customer had entered the store. She glanced at the clock and sighed. She expected Mitch to come in at any moment and she was dreading having to face him again—especially after having had to endure his smug expression on the drive home last night. Damn Lorraine and her perverted mouth.

She was in the back room, busy pulling a red-and white-checkered sweater over a fidgety apple head Chihuahua, when Dorinda poked her head in. “You’re taking Bogie
and
Lulu to the parade?”

She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning. “No, I’m taking Bogie. Mitch is taking Lulu.” She lifted the dog, carefully keeping her fingers away from Lulu’s bared teeth. “How does she look?”

Dorinda’s mouth gaped open. “Mean and ridiculous. Does Mitch know he’s taking a five-pound diva to the party?”

She beamed. “I thought I’d surprise him.”

“Oh, he’ll be more than surprised,” Dorinda muttered, her voice fading as she hurried to the front of the store to welcome a customer.

Emma hoped it was Mitch. She couldn’t wait to see his expression when she handed him Mrs. Madsen’s cherished companion, now homeless. Served him right. He should adopt Lulu; he was responsible for taking the poor dog’s home from under her paws. Mrs. Madsen’s kids wanted no part of the ill-tempered dog since they had young children. Poor Lulu would have ended up a statistic at the shelter if Emma hadn’t offered to watch her ’til someone decided to adopt her.

She heard Mitch’s deep voice coming from the front of the store and immediately her heart did a somersault.

Get a grip.

Why did she have to be so sensitive to his presence? He wasn’t even within eyesight and already nervous energy hummed in her veins.

She grabbed both dogs’ leashes and headed out front. As expected, Mitch’s eyes narrowed when he saw her toting the two canines. She smiled demurely, certain her eyes were blazing with mirth. “Mitch, meet Lulu. Your date.”

Mitch rubbed the prickly growth on his jaw, but his eyes were transfixed on Lulu, whose teeth were bared and ready for battle. “My what?”

“Lulu is your date for the doggy costume parade.”

He coughed into his closed fist. “Very funny.”

Emma kept her steadfast gaze on Mitch’s face and avoided looking at Dorinda, who was by the cash register pretending not to be listening to their conversation. “Does that mean you don’t want to go?”

Mitch rolled his eyes before he broke into a devastatingly handsome grin that made Emma’s toes curl. “I get it. I get it. You win. I’ll take her. But there’s no way in hell I’m taking her wearing that stupid sweater.”

“It’s a pirate’s vest to keep her warm.”

“She’s a dog.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“She’s got fur.”

Emma arched her brow. “You’re not worried about what people might say about your masculinity, are you?” She noticed him clenching his jaw and snickered inside.

“It’ll take more than a toy dog to ruin my masculinity. And why isn’t your dog wearing a costume?”

She pulled a red-and-black bandana out of her apron and tied it around Bogie’s neck. “He wears this.”

“Of course he does.”

She shrugged out of her apron and grabbed her Windbreaker. “Shall we?”

* * *

Mitch pulled gently on Lulu’s leash to try and avoid yet another dog who wanted to play. Like a fierce lioness, Lulu growled and bared her teeth at the sweet mutt, whose ears quickly tucked behind its head in fear.

“Sorry, she’s not friendly,” he apologized for the hundredth time in less than an hour.

Who would have a dog costume parade on the beach in the middle of October in Oregon? On second thought, who in their right mind would dress up their fucking pet?

Emma, walking in front of him, turned around when she heard the commotion. He knew she was enjoying his predicament and hadn’t stopped smiling since Mrs. Johnson and her cronies huddled and gushed around him with Lulu in tow.

A brisk gust lifted a stray balloon, causing Bogie to take off after it. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let Bogie run leash-free on the beach.

“Bogie, come back. Stop!” Emma’s command was swallowed by the
phoosh phoosh phoosh
of the waves as they hit the beach.

Mitch’s pulse raced up a notch when Bogie came dangerously close to the water. He knew the dog probably couldn’t hear her command. “Bogie, come here, boy,” he yelled, but the dog had now waded in past his stomach.

Damn.
He picked up a shivering Lulu and ran toward Emma.

She turned to him. Her hands were fisted at her sides and her eyes were wide with fear. “Mitch, he can’t hear me. He’s in too deep. Oh, my God,” she cried.

“Stay here,” he barked, handing her Lulu.

She gripped his arm. “What are you going to do?”

“Swim.” He sprinted as fast as he could toward Bogie, who was ungracefully trying to swim back to shore but was being pulled farther and farther out by the strong riptide.

Oh
,
hell
. Mitch yanked off his shoes and felt the cold wet sand between his toes. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and pulled his wallet out of his jeans. He peered into the water, but the swell of the waves obscured his view. There was no sign of Bogie.

Behind him, he heard Emma’s distraught cry and without another thought he plunged into the freezing water. The air rushed from his lungs. Instantly his skin puckered and his clothes tightened around his limbs, weighing him down. He tried to focus his eyes to get a glimpse of the dog.

The strength of the riptide under him pulled him away from the shoreline. He relaxed, rather than try to swim, allowing the powerful force to drag him out. When a wave crashed over his head, salt water filled his mouth and his nose but he kept still until he no longer felt the tugging from beneath his legs.

He heard a whimper and saw a movement in his peripheral vision, and then Bogie’s head popped out of the water. The dog saw him and instinctively paddled the twenty feet toward where he was treading water.

“I got you, buddy, I got you,” he managed to say through numbed lips. He knew he had to get them out of the freezing water in the next few minutes or they were screwed.

Grabbing on to the bandana Emma had wrapped around Bogie’s neck, Mitch swam sideways, parallel to the shore and away from the rip current’s band. When he finally got his footing, he carried the shaking dog over his shoulder on to the shore.

A crowd of people had gathered and took the petrified Bogie from his arms. Mitch sank to the sand and shook his head to unplug his ears. His teeth were chattering and he could barely move his fingers.

He heard a man’s voice barking orders and glanced up to see Officer Landis clearing the crowd. Mitch breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the officer’s Jeep a few feet away. His leg and arm muscles cramped and fatigue overwhelmed him. He didn’t think he had the strength to walk back to his trailer.

He heard voices around him as the crowd gathered.

Someone patted his back. “Are you all right? That was a crazy thing to do.”

“He saved that dog’s life.”

“Someone get this man a blanket.”

Mitch tried to smile and nod but his face felt taut. The crowd grew larger. It seemed everyone either wanted to congratulate him or maybe see for themselves the dumbass who risked his life for a dog. The first inkling he might lose his toes from the cold sent a stab of fear in his gut.

Officer Landis’s voice pierced his brain. “Okay, everyone back off, please. Show’s over. We need to get Mr. McKenna in the Jeep. You all right, Mitch?”

“Just freezing.”

Emma rushed to his side. “Let me help you up. Wrap your arms around my shoulders.”

“Let’s get him in the Jeep. Can you stand?” Officer Landis pulled him up and leaned him against his shoulders. Emma grabbed his other arm, and together they led him to the back of the Jeep.

Mitch peeled his droopy lids open when he felt Emma’s arm on his back. His head fell forward and his face nestled on her neck. He inhaled her perfume. “You smell nice.”

Officer Landis cleared his throat. “Let’s get you wrapped up in the blanket. Emma, try to keep him warm.”

Her heat seeped into his skin. His head was foggy and his lips felt swollen. “So soft...so sweet.”

Emma rubbed his arms to get his circulation going. “I think he’s delirious. Should we take him to the hospital?”

“No hospital. Hot shower,” Mitch mumbled.

Officer Landis revved the engine. “He needs to get out of those wet clothes. We’ll take him back to the trailer.”

Mitch’s lids felt heavy and he struggled to keep awake. Exhaustion fought with his desire to savor the way Emma was rubbing his neck and using her body to keep him warm.

“Stay awake, we’re almost there,” she whispered.

“Hmmm—” he nestled in deeper between her breasts, “—n...nice,” he murmured, a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

* * *

With the Jeep’s heat blasted, Emma felt sweat trickle down her spine. Mitch sat slumped next to her in the back seat, his head buried in her chest. He kept murmuring unintelligible words she hoped Brandon couldn’t hear.

Could he feel her heartbeat thumping against throat? What made him run in after Bogie into the freezing water? Why would he do that for a dog he barely knew? Why would he risk his life to save
her
dog? She knew if Mitch hadn’t risked his life, Bogie would have drowned.

The reckless dog was fast asleep in the front seat wrapped in blankets. One of her neighbors had taken Lulu from her arms when she’d rushed to Mitch’s side.

Emma pushed back the wet hair from Mitch’s face. His skin felt warm, so she knew he wasn’t in danger of hypothermia. But she kept her palms on his face just in case and was surprised when he turned his lips into them. His warm breath dampened her hands and sent tremors up her arm. She inhaled the briny smell of the ocean that clung to his skin.

When they reached Mitch’s trailer, Brandon jumped out and opened the back door. “How are you feeling, Mr. McKenna? Do you think you can walk?”

Emma was surprised when Mitch pulled back from her, stretched like a satiated cat and nodded a greeting to Brandon. “I can walk. I’m all right. Thanks for the ride.”

Emma shut her eyes in mortification. He was awake?

When Mitch’s gaze found hers, there was an unmistakable awareness within their depths. The heat in the Jeep didn’t compare to the heat spreading inside her chest.

Mitch smiled. “Appreciate the sweet concern for my safety. Had I known almost drowning was all it took, I’d have done it sooner.”

She frowned when she detected a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You need to take those wet clothes off and take a hot shower before you catch pneumonia.”

“If you’re so worried, why don’t you come inside and take a hot shower with me to make sure I’m alright.”

Her gaze flew to Brandon’s, whose brows were stacked in military precision over the bridge of his nose. “See? He’s delirious. Are you sure we shouldn’t take him to the hospital?”

Mitch grunted. “I’m not delirious—my nuts are frozen. You want to warm those up with your palms?”

Brandon bit back a smile. “Why don’t we figure all this out inside the trailer?”

* * *

Two hours later, with a bowl of steaming tomato soup in her hands, Emma knocked on Mitch’s trailer door. She’d seen Brandon’s Jeep take off about a half hour after they’d dropped off Mitch and had breathed a sigh of relief. She knew Brandon wouldn’t have left if Mitch was in any health danger.

She waited another few minutes but heard nothing coming from the other side of the door. Worry reared up again, mingled with guilt for putting Mitch’s life at risk because of her stupid desire to let Bogie run without a leash on the beach. The least she could do was offer up some homemade soup.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and entered the cold, dark trailer. “Mitch?” she called out.

The television was on though the sound was muted. She noticed several empty coffee cups and a bottle of brandy on the dinette table. She shut the trailer door behind her and placed the container of soup on the kitchen counter.

She listened for any sign of movement but heard nothing. He must be sleeping. A part of her brain warned her to turn around and just leave the soup, but another part—the maternal side—wanted to make sure he was safe.

She headed toward the small bedroom with the door slightly ajar. “Hello?” She placed her ear against the door and heard a ruffle of sheets. She bit her lip in indecision before quietly entering the room.

Scattered on the floor lay the wet clothes he’d had on earlier. He must have stripped off before falling into bed. Automatically, she picked them up and hung them on the hook behind the door. Taking another couple of steps in, she could make out Mitch’s body facedown above the covers. He’d stripped off everything except a pair of boxers.

Emma glanced at the wide-open window above the bed and frowned.
Isn’t he freezing?

Careful not to wake him, she reached over the bed to try and shut the window, but her arms weren’t long enough.

Now what?

Why would he leave the window wide open? Looking at his motionless form on the bed, she touched the back of her hand against his neck and felt the scorching heat radiating from his skin.

He has a fever
. Panic gripped her heart.

She stirred him, but he didn’t budge. “Mitch? Mitch, wake up. Are you feeling sick?”

“M-mm c-cold.”

Cold
. All right, she had to shut the window but to do so, she’d have to cradle his sleeping form and hope she didn’t fall flat on top of him in the process.

Emma slipped off her clogs. The queen bed barely had enough room to place her foot on either side of his head, but she managed. The window was brand-new, thank God, and slid shut without much effort. She was about to climb off, but Mitch suddenly turned on his back and she lost her balance. She fell backward on her butt in an ungraceful swoop, balancing on her knees to keep from crushing him.

“Crap,” she yelped, embarrassed beyond reason for the awkward way her knees cradled his head beneath her.