Nella
“That’s going to be a problem.”
I keep a tight hold on my anger at Derek’s sour tone.
Not a word of concern over Pippa’s well-being. My boss is such an asshole.
“I’m sorry about that, but certainly you understand I can’t leave my sister. I’ll make sure to keep you informed,” I tell him in a clipped tone.
I’m not one to take risks—which is probably why I’ve worked in the same place since getting my degree—but I’ve already proven I’ll do anything for Pippa and I’m not about to stop now. If I lose my job, so be it. I have some money in savings and enough invested in mutual funds for my retirement. It wouldn’t be too hard to access those—albeit at a loss—if I had to.
“Fall term just started so I’m afraid that won’t be enough,” Derek announces. “We’re already stretched thin with you taking off last minute for two weeks. I’m going to have to insist you be back here Monday September nineteenth at eight in the morning on the dot, as previously agreed to, or don’t bother coming back at all.”
And there it is, I can’t say part of me wasn’t expecting it.
The law in British Columbia allows for an employer to fire me for no specified reason as long as they give sufficient notice or pay an adequate amount of severance, which depends on years of service. Of course if I don’t show up, he could try and claim work abandonment, but either way, I’ll be out of a job.
I’m waiting for the panic to hit, but to my surprise I feel oddly calm at the prospect. Somewhere in the past week, it would appear, my perspective on life has changed. Before, most of my identity had been connected to the work I did, but these past days have been an eye-opener. I’m discovering an entirely new person inside. One who doesn’t need work to identify herself.
Pippa would be proud.
The realization has me respond with a new sense of freedom, “Do what you must.”
I end the call just as the oven pings, alerting me the flapper pie is done. I opted for butter tarts and flapper pie for a Canadian touch. Both are pretty easy and they don’t take too long to make. The butter tarts have been cooling while I browned the meringue on the custard-filled pie.
Five minutes later I’m on my way to the main house, a little self-conscious about just knocking on the door. The thing is, I can’t, in good conscience, let another day go by without properly introducing myself. I just hope Ama is still there to break the ice.
An older gentleman opens the door, a smile deepening the prominent lines in his face.
“Finally,” he exclaims. “Come in.”
“Oh, I’m just dropping these off. Is Ama here?”
The man relieves me of the pie and with his free hand waves me in.
“She’s in the kitchen.”
He starts walking down the hallway to the rear of the house and I have no choice but to follow. The kitchen is massive compared to what I’m used to. It opens up to a dining room and what I assume to be a living room beyond. Large windows all along the back of the house provide gorgeous views of the landscape.
Somewhat intimidated, I throw Ama—who is standing by a massive island—a small smile.
“I’m sorry to barge in,” I start. “I wanted to—”
“Your timing is perfect. Dinner is in twenty minutes,” she interrupts before glancing at the flapper pie the older man slides on the counter in front of her. “What’s this?”
“Flapper pie, it’s a traditional Canadian pie. And these are butter tarts. As a thank-you for your hospitality.” I set the plate of tarts on the island before turning to the man and holding out my hand. “I should introduce myself; I’m Antonella Freling, pleased to meet you.”
“I know,” he says with a sparkle in his eyes as he grabs my hand. “Thomas Harvey, and I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”
“That’s Jonas’s father. Never mind him,” Ama says, bumping Thomas with her hip. “He doesn’t get out much.”
The old man grins in response, not appearing at all offended by her words. Ama turns back to the vegetables she was slicing.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”
I take a step toward the door when Ama announces, “Nonsense. You’ll stay for dinner. We’ll have your baking for dessert.”
Before I have a chance to turn around, the front door flies open and the large dog I met up on the mountain comes charging toward me. Someone yells, “Max!” but it’s too late. He jumps up and knocks me right on my ass.
“Get off, you big galoot,” a deep voice sounds above me as a large, wet tongue laps at my face.
The next moment he’s gone, pulled back by Fletch’s boss, Jonas.
“Looks like he’s taken a shine to you,” he comments as he holds out his hand for me to grab on to.
With no apparent effort at all, he pulls me to my feet.
“You all right?”
A little embarrassed, I wipe the seat of my pants. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Other than humiliated.
I’m not used to dogs—never had a pet in my life—and to be honest, the large animal scares me a little, but he does seem friendly enough.
“Let me get you a drink. What would you like?” Jonas offers.
“I should prob—” I start declining when Thomas pipes up.
“Come sit by me,” he says, patting the stool beside his. “I want to know how your sister is doing.”
Five minutes later, I’m sitting at the kitchen island, a large glass of white wine in front of me, listening to Jonas recount how the team found a missing hiker this afternoon, when the front door opens and Sully walks in. Bo and James are right behind him, but I’m fixed on Fletch who’s the last one through the door. His face shows no reaction to my being here as he comes straight for me, and I’m starting to wonder if I overstepped in some way.
“She’s staying for dinner,” Thomas shares as Fletch stops in front of me.
“Actually I was just dropping off some pie and tarts. I didn’t mean to—”
“Pie?”
I turn my head to catch Bo trying to grab one of my butter tarts, but Ama is faster, snatching the plate out of his reach.
“Hands off. That’s for dessert,” she admonishes.
“You baked?”
Fletch’s voice is low but I have no trouble hearing it over the lively discussion that ensues in the kitchen. When I turn back to him his eyes are warm, little crinkles fanning out from their corners.
“Just as a thank-you for letting me stay here,” I clarify.
His lips stretch in a slow smile which—if possible—makes him even more devastatingly handsome.
Oh, dear…I’m in trouble.
“You bake,” he echoes, except this time it’s not so much a question as it is a statement.
“I know he doesn’t look the part, but Fletch has a serious sweet tooth,” Ama volunteers, grinning at me as her husband tucks her under his arm.
She’s right; I wouldn’t have associated a penchant for sweets with the generally broody man. But when he smiles like this? A warm sensation spreads through my body and I find myself smiling back.
“I do.”
Fletch
I’m not sure if it’s the glass of wine she nursed all through dinner, the fact her sister is looked after, or both, but I’m liking this more relaxed Nella.
Everyone hung around for dinner—even James and Ama stayed, something they rarely do—and for once I wasn’t in a hurry to get back to my place. So it’s already pretty dark out by the time I walk Nella back to her cabin.
She’s still beaming with the compliments she received on the dessert she provided.
“Gotta say, you sure know your way around the oven,” I comment, eager to keep that smile on her face a little longer. “I can cook, but never mastered baking. Probably a good thing, or I’d have a gut by now.”
Sure enough, her smile brightens and the color on her cheeks deepens at the compliment. Not sure how I initially missed how pretty she is.
“It’s relaxing,” she shares. “More of a hobby, but I give most of it away, or I’d be the one with the gut. Lord knows I don’t need the extra padding, there’s enough of it already.”
And as far as I can see, every ounce of it perfectly distributed. It’s what makes her a pleasure to hold, soft and warm, molding easily to the rougher angles of my body. But I don’t tell her that. Not yet.
What I do say is, “Ever thought of making it a business?”
I can tell from the pause before she responds, it’s at least crossed her mind before.
“I’ve fantasized, but it’s hardly practical. I don’t have any formal training though, and bakeries are a dime a dozen.”
We’ve arrived at her door when I ease her around to face me.
“Not in Libby. At least not with desserts like yours.”
I’m not sure where my head is at when I blurt that out and neither does she, judging by the look of confusion on her face.
“But I don’t even live here.”
I shrug. “So move.”
Before my mouth runs away with me even further, I find a better use for it. I slide a hand along the side of her face and into her hair, tilting her chin up with the light press of my thumb. Then I take those amazing lips of hers and slip my tongue between, finding hers ready to tangle.
Her hands come up to my chest, my heart beating against her palm as I wrap my free arm around her waist, tugging her closer. She tastes like that butter tart she had for dessert, her flavor sweet and rich. I can’t get enough of her and find myself sliding down a path I never intended to go down.
“Get a room!”
I tear my lips from hers and look up, seeing a grinning Sully slip into his place.
“I should—”
I cut her off with another kiss, while I reach for her doorknob. I thank my lucky stars when I find the door unlocked this time, and ease her backward into the cabin.
She doesn’t even seem to notice as I press her up against the wall and lash her tongue with mine in an effort to still this burning hunger I have for more. More of this…of her. Of those little sounds she makes as her fingers curl in my shirt.
Fuck, this woman is messing with my head. She’s already hard to resist when she’s being straitlaced and stuffy, but downright impossible to steer clear of when she’s relaxed and burning hot like this. I can’t wait to get her out of these buttoned-up clothes.
I tug at her shirt, trying to free it from the waistband of her pants so I can slide my hand over her silky soft skin. I’d love to drive her wild with my hands and mouth, see that pretty flush build and watch her come apart under my touch.
Her shirttail finally freed, I yank her shirt up and plump her breast in my palm. Breaking our kiss I bend down and close my lips over the pert nipple poking through her dainty lace bra.
“Fletch…”
“Fuck, you taste good, Babe,” I mumble against her skin before sinking to my knees.
I fully intend to get her out of those pants and sample more of her when she suddenly digs the fingers of one hand in my hair and pulls my head back.
“Fletch, I have to take this.”
In her other hand she has her ringing cell phone.
Jesus. I hadn’t even noticed.
Here I am on my fucking knees with a dick so hard it hurts, while she pulls her shirt down, walks into the kitchen area, and answers her phone.
“Hello?” She turns and I notice the fear on her face, just as I get to my feet. “This is she. Is my sister all right?”
Damn, it’s the hospital. No wonder she looks terrified.
I ignore my dick and join her in the kitchen, putting a supporting arm around her shoulders.
“Okay. I’ll be there. Thanks for calling.”
Then she ends the call, dumps her phone on the counter, and turns her body into mine. I’m surprised to see a smile when she lifts her face.
“What happened?”
“She’s doing better. The doctor apparently just came by to check on her and wants to start trying to wake her up first thing tomorrow morning. That was her nurse, Tracy. She wanted to make sure I knew so I could be there early.”
This time I’m guessing the tears pooling in her eyes are happy ones.
“That’s great news, Nella.”
She nods. “I know. I’m trying hard not to get too excited. Tracy warned me not to expect too much, there’s a possibility she may not wake up. Even if she does, she could have sustained damage that wasn’t noticeable before.”
I tuck her head under my chin and mumble, “I think you should let yourself be excited. Every step forward is a bonus, right?”
“Yeah.”
My body stirs when she snuggles closer, but my head realizes it’s probably just comfort she’s looking for.
“What time did you plan on going?”
She tilts her head back to look up at me.
“To the hospital? I want to be there by seven. Why?”
“Because I’m coming.”
“Weren’t you going hunting tomorrow?”
The guys had given me a hard time over dinner about wasting my tag, and when Nella heard she insisted I should go while I can. I eventually conceded since things seemed pretty stable with her sister, but I hadn’t planned on going far.
“I was, but I can go later. Or the day after tomorrow.”
The truth is I don’t want her to be alone if it turns out her sister has some kind of permanent damage, if she even opens her eyes.
“I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to hold my hand.”
The way she looks up at me with those pretty eyes sparkling and that mouth spread in a smile, has me turn into someone I don’t even fucking recognize.
“What if I want to?”