Vivian Arend - High Passion

“My parents’ yard. And those are the family rides. I don’t own a horse anymore. It would be hard to stable her in Banff.”

She twisted away from the fascinating sights outside to examine Devon closer. His smooth jaw had tightened in the past few minutes, and this time she was the one who laid her hand on his arm to apologize. “I’m sorry for making assumptions.”

Devon shrugged. “You have no idea.”

He flashed a smile, and her worry eased. “Will you take me riding?”

“Can you ride?”

She gave him a look.

He gave her one back. “Not that fancy bullshit show stuff, but real riding.”

Alisha grinned harder. “Want to see who can finish a course faster? I’m game.”

The suggestion of yet another contest eased the last of the awkwardness that had risen between them, and she slipped her fingers into his until he needed his hand to apply the parking brake.

Devon walked around to open her door, then dragged a hand through his blond hair, leaving it standing every which way. “You don’t have to memorize everyone’s names,” he reminded her. “If you forget, just ask—they’ll be happy to tell you again and again. Don’t accept any babies or small children out of guilt, especially not ones with suspicious scents.”

Alisha laughed, stepping closer and straightening that lock of hair that always drove her crazy. “Relax. I can handle myself. I can handle your family.”

He slipped his arms around her and lowered his head until their lips made contact. “Thank you for joining me.”

She still had her fingers in his hair when the front door swung open, and noise enveloped them.

A deep, firm voice reached them first. “Devon. And Alisha. Welcome.”

Higher-pitched feminine laughter stole out. “You’re interrupting them, Dad.”

“That’s my job,” he insisted as Alisha straightened in embarrassment.

Devon kept a tight hold on her so she was forced to remain tucked against his side. An older version of Devon peered down from the landing, his hands resting on the wheels of his wheelchair.

“It would be politer to greet guests with a drink,” Devon pointed out, escorting Alisha up the stairs to the side of his dad’s chair.

She held out her hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Leblanc.”

“Please, call me Stewart.” He accepted her hand but didn’t shake it, instead tugging her forward with a wink. “Pretty girls I insist on kissing on the cheek.”

She laughed and leaned over far enough to let him plant one on her. Then she stepped back and watched as Devon shook hands solemnly with the man.

“Good to see you, son.”

“I’m not pretty enough to kiss?” Devon teased.

“You got your kisses, and your lickin’s, when you were younger. Now you’re old enough to shake my hand and pour me a drink.” Stewart eyed him closely. “You did bring wine for dinner?”

Devon made a show of regret. “Damn, I knew we forgot something.”

“Oh, Devon, how could you?” Another of his sisters had stepped onto the porch, and she frowned at them in annoyance from behind Stewart’s wheelchair. Her short, businesslike blond hair barely moved as she shook her head. “One thing you have to bring, and it’s just like you to forget.”

She glared daggers at both Devon and Alisha, and Alisha shifted uncomfortably.

Well, that was lovely. Obviously not all of Devon’s family were as easy to get along with as his father.

She lifted the bag from her hip and held it out to the stern-faced woman. “Umm, actually, you’ll find a couple of bottles in here. The white is already chilled, and the red can be opened to breathe if we’re eating soon.”

The bag was accepted none too graciously. “I don’t know why Devon couldn’t just say so. Everything has to be some huge joke with him.”

She stormed off, leaving Stewart gazing after her. He twisted in his chair and made a face. “That one? Is a trifle high-strung. Ignore her, and make yourself at home.”

Devon squeezed Alisha’s fingers and they followed his father into the house.

The only possible description of what followed was chaos.

Children raced everywhere, from toddlers to tweens, the oldest of them eyeing Alisha with that mix of curiosity and disdain most kids that age were so good at. She stared back, poker-faced.

She was introduced to all the rest of Devon’s family. His mom squeezed her in a hug and then vanished, chasing after children with a warning to stay out of the cookies until dinner was served.

It was a good thing the house was so big, because the sheer number of bodies milling around probably placed it on the maximum occupancy list. It was a strange contrast to the holidays she remembered. Gentle music playing in the background, servants ushering in the various courses of the meal. Nothing but small talk at the table, not this uproarious noise that never seemed to end.

Alisha leaned on a wall to one side of the action and took it all in, somewhere between uncomfortable and amazed.

Warm arms snuck around her. “You need me to top up your drink? You’ve got this glazed expression slipping over you.”

“I’m overwhelmed. I guess you can tell.”

“Two more hours, three at the tops, and we’ll be free. We could stop on the way home and hike to Elbow Falls. Stretch our legs and work off some of the three pieces of pie I plan on consuming.”

His lips hit her neck and she shivered. “Your sister will turn me into a toad if she catches you doing that. I don’t think I impressed her much.”

Devon stroked his fingers over her waist where he held her, his thumb gentle over the gap of skin he found. “Charley doesn’t approve of me, ergo, you can’t be approved of. Don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t, but . . .”

“But what?” The words whispered past her ear, and she heated up without him even trying. “I approve of you completely.”

The ringing of a bell stole the chance to explain her confusion. They were hustled to the table and placed in what were probably considered strategic positions. In fact, glancing down the long table, there was a kind of twisted symmetry to it all. The tables were slightly different heights in places—not even the giant main portion with its rough-hewn planking could hold the entire family, but the room was large enough that they had laid two more tables end to end as well. The teens were crowded around a smaller table in the kitchen, and little children seemed to be tucked one on either side of their parents, hopefully to be corralled into behaving.

Which put her and Devon close to the head of the table and the Leblancs.

The little girl on Alisha’s left didn’t look too terrifying, staring up unblinking with her pale hair braided into an intricate design. Alisha thought she was a Kimberly or something like that. Definitely one of Charley’s girls.

Dinner itself was lovely. Bowls of homemade food passed again and again. Alisha laughed when Devon started scooping tidbits of extra stuff onto her plate, insisting she wasn’t eating enough to feed a bird.

“Devon, stop teasing her,” his mom warned.

Devon shrugged. “Sorry, instinct. Years of training around this table. I see an empty plate and I’m compelled to fill it.”

“Have you given any more thought to the business idea I suggested?” One of the brothers shook his fork at Devon. “I’m ready whenever you are to get you up to speed.”

Devon smiled, his expression tighter this time. “Thanks again for your generous offer, Mark, but I’m pretty happy with my career as it is.”

“Boys. You can take this conversation up after dinner.” His mom turned her bright smile on Alisha. “So, dear, tell me. What are you planning on doing once you’re done in Banff?”

Devon snorted softly, and Alisha took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not sure what the question is. Devon and I are on the Lifeline search-and-rescue squad, you know. It’s a solid, full-time job, and it looks like a good career for the future.”

Charley frowned from across the table. “You can’t keep doing that sort of work once you have a family.”

Oh boy. Alisha kicked Devon’s ankle under the table in the hopes he’d stop snickering. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You’re how old, twenty-one?”

Well, that would have made her a touch precocious, even in the climbing community. “Twenty-six; thank you for the compliment.”

Charley seemed to be doing the mental math. Probably coming up with a number of baby-making years that were rapidly diminishing. She set her frown more firmly in place and rescued a scoop of potatoes from a toddler’s fork only seconds before it toppled to the tablecloth.

And that was the introduction to the remainder of the meal. Devon got offered a job from one of his older brothers—something suitable for a family man with high potential for moving up in the world and making a name for himself. Alisha got grilled on what other jobs were interesting to her once her obsession with being outdoors couldn’t support her anymore. Once she found her senses and swelled with child.

Through it all Devon kept his cool. Laughed. Lightheartedly teased his way out of committing to anything, and without actually saying the words, made it appear he agreed what he was doing in Banff was frivolous at the best and at the worst? Selfish.

Alisha grew more agitated by the minute, but she kept her annoyance hidden. Only when given the opportunity to escape, she took it.

“Devon promised to show me the horses. I hope you don’t mind?”

Devon scooped the final bit of his third piece of pie into his mouth, then grabbed her hand. “It’s true. Excuse us.”

Dirty dishes were still being carried to the kitchen, and maybe it was rude to leave before they’d helped clean up, but Alisha was seconds away from exploding on Devon’s behalf. She allowed him to guide her from the room, lips tightly pressed together to avoid saying something she’d regret.

He led her toward the fence line, the horses in the field shifting and approaching slowly. Devon clicked his tongue and called to them before turning to face her. His painted-on fake expression slid off and turned into real frustration and sorrow.

Alisha grabbed him by the collar and leapt upward, wrapped her legs around him, and clung on tight as she kissed him hard in the hopes it would consume some of her tightly compressed anger.

He didn’t care that they were on the front path to his parents’. Didn’t care that a dozen people could be gawking out the windows at them this minute; in fact, he hoped they were. Hoped they were watching and wishing they had the kind of life that involved a woman like Alisha. Her fire rolled over him and softened all the aching spots inside he’d had clutched like a fist for the past couple of hours.

Her heated lips over his became something to focus on rather than his frustration. The solid weight of her body pressed tight to his anchored him.

The slick of her tongue slowed slightly as she explored, her hands stroking his shoulder muscles while those incredible legs squeezed him tight enough to promise all manner of wicked things.

He took the offer. Accepted it. After years training together and moments in the field where life was on the line, they’d learned to speak a silent language. A nearly instant assessment of imminent danger and life-stealing hurts. They both knew there was a give and take of necessity and importance. The person who needed the most was provided for first, brought to aid, attended and cared for. Right now she gave and he took, and it was exactly what he needed.

Once the initial flare burned down, he cupped her face and pulled them apart, far enough so he could look her in the eyes. “Thank you.”

“Please tell me we can go home. You’ve done more than your share of family duty time, and I’d really like to work off some of my frustrations. So either we go hiking or we find a place to fuck until we can’t walk.”

“How about both. At the same time if we could,” he teased.

She slipped down his body but caught his hands in hers, this time tugging him to the side to admire the horses that had arrived at the fence line. “You never told me a lot of things.”

“What’s to tell?”

Alisha stroked the mare’s nose, confidence in her touch, and Devon relaxed. He should have known she hadn’t been kidding about being able to deal with horses.

“You’ve got the same shitty attitudes here as I have with my parents. None of them think you’re good enough. That your job is a real job.”