Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Desire

“I’m sorry, Hope. I didn’t know it was you. I…” She shifted her feet uneasily, focusing on something to the side of him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Say it, fuckhead. Admit you’re a shit. “…I thought you were a stranger who liked me. I don’t usually go around pestering dancers, honest.”

Her chin rose and she looked him in the eye. “Please don’t tell anyone I was here.”

Then she spun and raced away into the parking lot before he could apologize anymore. Equal parts relief and guilt poured over him, and he really didn’t know what the hell to do.

Five months later

The giggles emitting from the living room were far too mature and feminine to belong to his nephews. Matt paused on his way up the stairs to figure out if he was about to walk into something he’d rather avoid.

“You going to have that done in time for Christmas?”

“I have to have it ready. The only way Gramma is allowed to give a homemade Christmas present to one child is to have something for all of them.”

Matt leaned on the railing and grinned. His ma and her brood of friends doing the doting thing again. He’d forgotten about the monthly hen party. Guess he could put in an appearance before disappearing to safer and more masculine pastures.

If his trailer weren’t so damn cold, he’d still be out there. But with the temperature dipping toward minus forty, sheet metal and forced air heaters simply didn’t cut it.

“Evening ladies.”

He rounded the corner, spotting, as he expected, piles of…stuff…everywhere. This time it looked as if a fabric shop had exploded in the living room, and not only his mother, but a half-dozen older women from the community beamed at him.

“Matt. Come and see what I’ve made.” His ma held up a small quilt with a horse print on it, waving it madly for his approval.

“Very nice. Who’s that for?”

“Robbie. And this one—” another quilt was raised for inspection, “…is for Nathan, and this one is Lance’s.”

He could be there for hours if he didn’t manage to excuse himself after the first couple minutes.

“Love them all. You’ve done a fine job, Ma. Hey, I just wanted to say hello.” Matt glanced around the room. “It’s bitter cold outside—you ladies all have rides home tonight?”

“You want to escort me, you can, young man.” Mrs. Katen winked and the room resounded again with laughter. The woman was one of his ma’s best friends, and she and her husband had been married close to forty years.

Matt tipped his head. “Your husband might not ride rodeo anymore, ma’am, but I’m still plenty scared of him. I think I’ll let him be your backup, if you don’t mind.”

He gave his ma a kiss on the cheek before turning to leave.

The breath whooshed right out of him as he came face to face with Hope. Long red hair framed her shining face, and her mouth opened and closed a few times as they stared at each other. Then she smiled and tucked her fingers together, standing like a prim and proper maiden in the midst of a singing recital.

All he could picture was her with nothing but tiny seashells covering her breasts.

“Matt. Good to see you. You’re a little late to join the quilting bee, but if you want, I’ve got a lovely printed panel you could start on.”

He hoped the heat flushing his face could be excused by the laughter in the room. “I think the family woodworking business is enough of a crafty task for me. Last thing I sewed on was a button, and I was bleeding like crazy by the time I was done.”

Hope stepped to the side at the same moment he did, and they bumped. He caught her before either of them fell, the heat of her body drawing him like some strange magnet. The sensation was far too familiar and far too tempting.

He didn’t want this.

He was surprised she didn’t knee him in the groin.

Hope wiggled from his grasp and stepped back, teetering until she found her balance. “Sorry, I’m very clumsy at times. Two left feet.”

Not clumsy when she was shaking her ass on the dance stage.

Matt pulled himself together. “No, totally my fault.”

She wore a sweet scent. Something mild and flowery, nothing at all like the stronger spicy perfumes Helen had always worn. He took a deeper sniff before he was even aware he was doing it. Hope’s eyes widened, and she paced back farther, opening the space between them. A momentary rush of disappointment hit that he wasn’t willing to admit to anyone, least of all to himself.

Not that he deserved any better after their surprise meeting last summer. She’d never returned his calls, never let him apologize properly, and he didn’t blame her one bit.

“I’d better head home.” Hope’s gaze skimmed past his, then she busied herself grabbing bags and piling material into heaps. “If you ladies need anything this coming week you be sure to call. I can coach you over the phone if you want, if you can’t wait until you make it into the shop. I know you’re eager to finish these projects in time for the holidays.”

Marion Coleman spoke up. “Matt, help carry her things. It took three trips for her to bring it all in.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Coleman, that’s fine—”

“Of course, I’ll help.” Matt tugged the bags from her grasp. “I’ll nab my boots and coat, and meet you at the front door.”

The panic on her face vanished almost as quickly as it arrived, and she smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Matt dropped his handfuls by the front door then pivoted to fetch his shoes from the downstairs entrance that all the Coleman males still used out of habit. Only as soon as he turned, he smacked right into Hope, and once again, ended up catching hold to prevent her from falling.

The soft material of her T-shirt under his fingers felt way better than it should. And the thoughts that raced through his mind were of dragging his hands off her arms and around her waist to tuck her tight against him to see if she was as good a fit as he remembered from their brief tangle outside the door—

A tiny gasp escaped her. That only brought his attention toward her mouth, shiny from some type of lip-gloss. She smelt so damn good, and if the noise from the living room hadn’t reminded him where they were—standing in the front hall one corner away from the sight of the most vocal gossip line in the area—he’d have been tempted to further his mistake from the summer to discover what flavour she wore.

Instead he decided to bluff. Had to, or this situation would drive him mad.

He winked. “I think we’re both having troubles keeping our balance today. Not enough caffeine?”

Hope nodded. She seemed as eager as he was to change the topic. “Or too much. I drank a lot in the shop today to stay warm, and your mother served tea and coffee all night. I might need to switch to decaf the next time.”

It was as good an excuse as any. Matt hurried down the stairs, donned his winter gear and used the side path to get around and meet her at the wide front entrance to the family ranch house.

The long, low building was set into the hillside, with the walkout on the back giving the illusion from the front of a single-level home stretching across the land. With the Christmas lights strung along the eaves, twinkling white lights that his mother insisted go up the first of November, the darkness was warmed with a cheery brightness.

Nothing could change the fact it was as cold as a witch’s tit. His breath didn’t just fog in front of him, it clouded in heavy dregs, or would have if the wind didn’t whip it away in a rush. Hope was already on her way back from her first trip, the cleared path of the sidewalk showing a good three feet of snow piled high on either side. She’d started her car, puffs of exhaust streaking behind it like dragon smoke.

“You were supposed to let me help you.” Matt opened the front door for her and she stepped in, smiling cheerily.

“As your mom said, it’s a three-trip job.” She pointed to a pile. “If you get that, I’ll take my sewing machine and purse.”

Matt scooped up his load with ease. He listened for a moment. The chatting in the living room had resumed. “You need to say goodbye to anyone?”

She shook her head. “I did while you were gone.”

He followed her out the door. Why did this feel so prickly? She was a friend. Other than that one weird incident from last summer hovering over them, there was no need for this awkwardness. Hell, for years he’d thought she’d end up his sister-in-law. There was no reason for the strange twisting sensation in his gut.

Maybe it was the memory of just how turned-on he’d gotten before he knew who she was. Plus the realization she wasn’t his sister, not by any stretch of the imagination, and wasn’t ever going to be, changed everything.

Hope turned from packing her load into her crowded backseat and reached to accept her supplies from him. As she tucked them into the vehicle, he couldn’t help but notice it looked a little worse for wear. Even as he passed over the final armful, he took a closer glance at the tiny car. It was filled to the brim with bags and boxes. There was no way she could see out her back window.

“You use a shoehorn to get yourself in there?”

Hope straightened from where she’d been rearranging things to make them fit. She smacked into the doorframe and cursed before snapping her mouth shut and rubbing the back of her head.

“It’s big enough for me. And I don’t usually haul this much stuff, but with the holiday season being the best time for sales, I didn’t want…” She grinned sheepishly. “I guess that’s as close to a confession as you’ll hear. I didn’t want to lose a sale just because I’d left something behind. With this weather, the ladies aren’t coming to the shop as often as they used to.”

The sharp wind slapped him in the neck and Matt flipped up his collar. “I don’t blame them for not going out. I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. Me neither.” Hope forced the passenger door shut before turning and rubbing her gloves together briskly. “Thanks for the help. See you around.”

Matt eyed her tires with continued suspicion as she manoeuvred her way back to the driver’s side, slipping on the hard-packed snow underfoot and barely catching herself in time. She got behind the wheel, adjusted a few of the bags beside her, did up her seatbelt.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He knocked on the passenger window.

She paused then opened her driver door a crack. “I don’t have power windows and I can’t reach the crank.”

He should have thought of that. He hurried around, worried all the heat she’d built up inside was escaping. When he made it to her door and leaned in close, only a faint bit of warmth greeted him.

“You sure you’re okay heading back to town? Why didn’t you turn on the heater?”

“Herbie takes a while to warm up. I’ll be fine. Really.”

She wiggled the door and he reluctantly moved away. The brittle clink of the locks connecting made him cringe. Why was she driving a clunker like this anyway? And she’d named it?

At least she was a competent driver. She backed past him smoothly, waving a gloved hand. Her headlights clicked on, and the tiny vehicle slipped along the long gravel drive to the highway.

Matt watched until the red of her taillights disappeared when she turned, only she didn’t head right, down the road that led toward town, but left, and his remaining limited patience vanished.

He spun and headed for his truck. She didn’t have to know he was following her, but until she was home, he couldn’t relax.

And while he would have done the same for any woman under these circumstances, for some reason knowing it was Hope ahead of him turned the Good Samaritan act into something infinitely more complicated.

Hope twisted the air-selection button. Car manufacturers needed to realize when it was this cold, a setting to blast heat at feet, body and windshield simultaneously was more than a whim, it was a necessity. Either she had a trickle of heat on her rapidly numbing torso and toes, or she had enough air pressure to keep the front window from fogging over and blocking her view. There was no selection in her ancient beater for all three to run at once.

She gripped the wheel tighter, staring into the darkness, and counted gate entrances. She never would have made the trip in the dark, on a night this cold, if she hadn’t already been three quarters of the way there. It made no sense to go home and have to drive all the way out in the morning to deliver the package Mrs. Bailey had ordered. The gas savings alone was worth the inconvenience of adding to her already long day.