The next time she woke, Josh was in bed beside her. His arm was around her waist as his body curved to accommodate hers. His chest rose steadily, the regular rhythm of his breathing reassuring and solid against her back.
It was, she realized suddenly, going to be difficult to say goodbye when the time came. Sleeping on your own gave a girl the luxury of kicking back with all the covers and all the space, but there was just nothing quite like the feeling of waking up next to a warm, strong partner and knowing you weren’t alone. Even if, like in this case, only briefly.
As if he sensed her watching him, Josh stirred. His eyes didn’t open, but she knew the moment he woke. The arm circling her waist flexed, pulled her in that much deeper.
“Morning.”
His voice was deep and full of sleep. It made Auggie smile.
“Morning.”
The heat from his body soaked into her back. Feeling warm and content, Auggie ran her hand down his leg from the point of his thigh to just above his knee. It was as far as her arm could reach, and it felt good to leave her hand resting on his thigh.
The moment was companionable, not sexual, and somehow that was equally as potent. Her senses were still drinking in the peace of being there with him when his other arm came around her. He rolled onto his back and brought her along with him as he moved. With her face against his chest, she sprawled across him. Every beat of his heart made her own lift.
“Tell me about making whiskey.”
His hand, which had been stroking her hair, stilled. His chest rose and fell with a quick snort of amusement.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“I’ve a curious mind,” Auggie said, shrugging her shoulder in a way that had her skin sliding against his.
Bending his head, Josh kissed her shoulder. He liked this woman. He liked waking with her in his arms. Liked it very much.
“I could always just bring you home with me and let you see the place.”
Against his chest, Auggie went very still. Even her breathing seemed to halt for a moment. Her voice was composed, though, when she rejected his offer -- an offer he’d never made to another woman, not that she had any way of knowing as much.
“As… interesting as that thought is, why don’t you just describe it for me. I’d like to hear about it in your own words.”
He could -- and would -- give her that. Still, the thought had been planted in each of their minds. For Josh’s part, he suddenly realized he could picture her there. Boundless energy and a sharp mind like Augusta possessed would vibe well in the distillery, but it was more than that. He could see her in his home, in his kitchen, under the covers of his own bed, walking the sandy shoreline of the ocean cove where he’d built.
His sister, he imagined, would love her. Cara would harass him, of course, but she’d be best friends with a woman like Augusta. And his father would fall in love with her, the same way he had done.
The thought had him sucking in a breath. Underneath his body, Auggie felt the change immediately.
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” Josh said. He resumed stroking her hair as his mind raced. He’d fallen in love with her? They barely knew each other. Where had the thought even come from?
“Making whiskey’s an old art where I come from, Mo Cuishle,” he said. His voice didn’t sound as panicked as he suddenly felt. That was good, at least. “There are multiple steps. And then there are different ways to age your brew. In Ireland, though, a whiskey must be aged for three years on the island if it’s to be labelled Irish Whiskey.”
“Three years.” Auggie was genuinely surprised. “That’s a definite commitment, isn’t it?”
“I’m a man who’s not afraid of commitment, fine thing.”
She snorted out a breath. “You did not just say that while I’m lying here naked in your arms.”
But, behind her, Josh wasn’t laughing. Auggie twisted around to look at him, and what she saw on his face shocked her. The man looked contemplative, like he was genuinely thinking about what he’d just said. Or maybe, why he’d said such a thing.
“Now, don’t freak out, fine thing,” Josh said when he read the shock on her face. “It’s just a fact about me, is all. Not a marriage proposal or something daft like that.”
The word ‘marriage’ didn’t exactly calm Auggie down. She had the deepest urge to push her way out of the bed and flee. Also, she had the tiniest flicker of longing -- which she suppressed ruthlessly -- at the mere thought of marriage and Josh in the same sentence.
Which was just bollocks. She was obviously loopy from amazing sex. Or, maybe one of those snowballs had hit her harder on the head than she’d realized.
Or maybe, a sneaky little voice inside her whispered, you just like the man. He was, after all, funny and sexy, a successful, up-and-coming businessman with goals she admired and the drive to capitalize on them -- something else she admired. He was a good sport, following her around on all her itinerary while he was here in Canada. Without a single complaint, Auggie realized.
And, he was none too shabby in the bedroom, either.
She did like the man. Maybe more than she should. You know, given the fact that he lived in Ireland, and all.
“Remind me, how far is Ireland from Vernon?”
He huffed out an amused breath and pulled her nearer so he could drop a kiss on the top of her forehead.
“Six thousand, eight hundred and fifty-five kilometres,” he said.
“Oh, give or take,” Auggie said.
He grinned. Apparently, he’d unravelled the lass.
“You’re the accountant. I’d think you’d appreciate the exact figure.” He kissed her again, on the lips this time, and smiled to himself when despite her evident discomfiture, she responded in kind.
“I’d really like to take you there. Show you around the distillery, introduce you to my sister, Cara. She,” he said with a distracting nibble on her shoulder, “Would adore you. What do you say? Come home with me? We could ring in the New Year together.”
Auggie lay very still. New Year’s in Ireland? That was a tempting thought, indeed. Meet his sister? That was ridiculous. That wasn’t what this was.
“I can’t just…”
“Of course you can,” Josh said. “The question is, would you want to?”
Which was the problem, of course, because suddenly she very much wanted to fly to Ireland and learn more about how this ridiculously appealing man lived his life. Her eyes were troubled as she disentangled herself from him and pushed herself out of the bed.
“I need to shower. Alone,” she added when he started to push back the covers. When the expression on his face blanked at the rejection, Auggie felt the instant urge to soothe the look away. She wanted, most definitely, to give him what he wanted. A trip to Ireland, more moments like these -- it sounded like a dream, a fairy tale. But she wasn’t a princess, and this was just life. And she was a practical woman.
“Look, I’ve enjoyed this. Enjoyed you. This moment was unexpected and… lovely.”
She stood at the edge of the bed, not even aware that she was comfortable enough around him that she’d completely forgotten she was naked. She forced herself to silence the desire to simply blurt out that she’d love to join him in Ireland for New Year’s. Instead, she told him a different truth.
“I’m meant to get you to sign the contract for the advert. That’s all this was meant to be.”
“Meant to be?” His gaze grabbed hold of her and held her fast. His voice softened, lowered. “We decide what’s meant to be, Augusta. At least, that’s what I believe.”
She swallowed. He caught the telltale movement, and immediately switched tracks.
“What time do we leave to serve this meal?”
“You still want to come?”
“Of course. You act like this is the only time a beautiful woman has turned me down.” Offering her a grin that appeared far more genuine than he felt, he winked. “It’s not. Of course, I still want to go.” He leaned back against the pillows, breaking eye contact with her then. “Go. Take your shower. I’ll be needing one after you.”
“Josh…” His name was soft on her lips. Then she shook her head. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say. She backed up a step. “I’ll be quick.”
“Just save me some hot water,” he said with another smile aimed her direction. As if the entire conversation meant nothing. No biggie. The moment she left the room, though, the grin dropped away. Leaving the bed, he stuffed his legs into his trousers.
“Well, bollocks,” he whispered. Then he collected the rest of his clothing, and he let himself out of Auggie’s room.