One Night in the Ice Storm

Noelle Adams

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Noelle Adams. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce,

distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

Contents

One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six

One

Rachel Cole’s day was getting worse by the minute.
Her boss had given the office the afternoon off, since no work was getting done on the day before

Christmas Eve anyway. The weather had been fine when she left Richmond—overcast but dry—but
then the sleet began and kept getting worse. By the time she’d reached her mother’s house, the roads
were barely passable. She’d spun out once and was fortunate not to have ended up in a ditch.

The trip took an hour longer than normal, and she’d arrived to discover her mother wasn’t even

home.

“Just great,” she complained, frowning into the phone, although obviously her brother couldn’t see

her expression. “So I’m stranded out here alone in the middle of an ice storm?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Brad replied. “No one expected the storm to come up so quickly. But mom

and I are stuck in town. We’re at my place now, but we’ll try to get to the house this evening when the
ice slacks off.”

Rachel tried not to grumble, since it wasn’t Brad’s fault. It had been nice of him to take their

mother to do last-minute Christmas shopping.

She’d grown up in this house—ten miles outside of the nearest small town in a rural mountain

county of southwest Virginia—and they’d been trapped by winter weather before.

It just didn’t put her in the holiday spirit.
“Oh, and I’m sorry to add to your annoyances, but…” Brad trailed off unexpectedly.
“But what?”
“David’s on his way to the house.”
Rachel’s spine stiffened almost painfully. “What?”
“I borrowed his circular saw to work on Mom’s deck and kept forgetting to return it, so he’s

stopping by to pick it up.”

“Why is he coming to get a saw in the middle of a storm?”
“It wasn’t so bad when he started out. He was working a job in Gilman, so the house was on his

way home. Anyway, he called a few minutes ago, and he’s not far away.”

“Damn it, Brad. I don’t want to see him.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, unless you want to hide in your room and

pretend he’s not there.”

Brad didn’t sound remotely apologetic. In fact, he sounded like he might be mocking her.
“This is serious to me,” she said, tightening one hand into a fist.
“I know he’s not your favorite person, but it can’t be that big a deal. We didn’t expect you until

the evening, so he should have been gone by the time you arrived.”

“Not my favorite person?” she repeated. “I can’t stand him. I can’t stand to even be around him.”
Brad was silent for longer than she’d expected. Finally, he said, “I didn’t realize you were still so

hung up on this. You see him around almost every time you visit.”

“That’s different. That’s not being stranded with him in a storm this way. You know what he did

to me.”

“But you’ve always acted like it was no big deal, and that was years and years ago. Normal

teenage drama. I always thought you’d gotten over it.”

She swallowed hard, a familiar ache tightening in her chest as she thought about what she tried to

never think about. “It wasn’t teenage drama. It just wasn’t.”

David Harris had been her brother’s best friend since elementary school. Two years younger than

them, Rachel had had a foolish crush on David for as far back as she could remember. Finally, the
summer she was seventeen, he had started showing her attention.

It had been the best summer of her life—hanging out with David for hours every day, sharing with

him dreams and fears she’d never told anyone else. The summer had climaxed—literally—on a
blanket beneath the old willow tree on her family’s property. She’d been a virgin, but she’d trusted
him completely. He’d been so sweet, gentle, and passionate, and it had been better than she could
have imagined.

Until a couple of days later, when he’d dropped her completely.
He hadn’t even broken up with her—just avoided her until she got the message. He never called,

never came by, and acted like she didn’t exist when they happened to encounter each other around
town.

Rachel had been heartbroken, but she’d understood exactly what happened.
She’d never meant anything to David, no matter how much her teenaged stupidity had allowed her

to believe he really cared for her. She’d been a way to pass the time for him during a slow summer.
Once he’d gotten what he wanted from her, he’d moved on without hesitation.

The memory of that summer—his laughter, the weight of his arm around her shoulders, the feel of

him moving inside her with so much care, the look in his eyes when he’d come—still had the power
to make her eyes ache, her chest ache.

Even eight years later.
“I know he hurt you,” Brad said, the laughter vanished from his voice. “And it sounds like it hurt

you more than I realized. But it’s been over for years. He’s a really good guy.”

“A really good guy wouldn’t have done that to me. I don’t understand how you expect me to

forgive him.”

“You don’t understand, Rach. You don’t know—” He broke off abruptly, mid-sentence.
“Exactly what don’t I know?”
“Nothing. This isn’t the time to talk about it. The point is that David is on his way there, so keep a

lookout for him. Hopefully, the storm will break soon, and Mom and I can get out there by this
evening.”

“Fine.”
Rachel said goodbye and hung up, glancing out through the wide bay window of her mother’s

living room.

The sleet was coming down hard now, freezing on whatever surface it touched—the trees, the

grass, the beautifully landscaped stone patio, the long driveway.

David was definitely going to be stuck here, she realized. He shouldn’t be on the roads at all. Not

in this kind of ice. It wouldn’t be safe for him to return to town until the weather improved.

She swallowed hard.
As if she’d summoned him by her thoughts, she saw his familiar red pickup—the same one he’d

been driving since high school—approaching slowly on the county road that ran along the far side of

the large front yard.

She’d sat in the passenger seat of that pickup more times then she could remember, listening to

David talk about his plans for beginning a carpentry business, singing uninhibitedly to the radio,
kissing him for way too long before he dropped her off in the evenings.

David was now one of the most successful contractors in the county, even as young as he was, but

he hadn’t yet given up his old truck.

As she watched, the truck started to slip, threatening to spin before David stabilized it.
That road had been bad enough when Rachel arrived a half-hour ago. It must be a sheet of ice

now.

David was going slowly, and he made it without further incident until he started to turn into the

long driveway leading up to the house.

With virtually no traction, he couldn’t hold the turn, and the truck spun out of control, ending up

nose-first in the ditch.

Rachel’s breath had caught in her throat as she watched, but she let it out in a whoosh when she

saw that the damage didn’t look too severe.

She waited, expecting to see David try to back the truck out of the ditch, although she couldn’t

imagine he could do so effectively until the ice was gone.

The truck didn’t move. The tires didn’t seem to be spinning, although she was too far away to

know for sure.

She kept watching, assuming David would now climb out of the truck and walk up to the house.
He didn’t get out, though. For way too long.
Maybe he was hurt.
Without thinking, she grabbed her new red cashmere coat and threw it on as she hurried out the

side door.

The wind was biting cold, and the sleet hit the bare skin of her face like bullets. She ducked her

head and tried to hurry, irrationally scared that David might be hurt.

It hadn’t seemed like a dangerous accident, but then why wasn’t he getting out of the truck?
The driveway was so slick she skated more than walked as she wobbled her way down the drive.
She was moving too fast as she finally approached, and she skidded toward the passenger side of

the truck.

She stopped herself abruptly by slamming into it, jarring her body uncomfortably.
She slid over to the passenger door and tried to open it, but her hands were almost numb, since

she’d been too distracted to put on gloves, and this door had always had a tendency to stick anyway.

She shivered and pulled and huffed in frustration, trying to pull the door open. Ice had mostly

covered the window, so she couldn’t even see inside very well to ensure that David was okay.

Suddenly, the door was opening, pushed out from inside. She almost toppled over from the

unexpected momentum of the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” a male voice demanded from inside. David had leaned over to

open the passenger door, and he was now glaring at her. “You’re going to break your ankle or freeze
to death out here.”

Rachel gasped in indignation as she tried to catch herself from falling by clinging to the seat of the

truck. She managed to pull herself back to a stable position. “I thought you were hurt. You didn’t
come in. What are you just sitting out here for?”

The sight of David’s familiar face—well-sculpted features, dark eyes, five-o’clock shadow, short

brown hair—made her stomach twist in pain. Every time she saw him, he looked more mature and
even more handsome. Her instinctive attraction compounded her annoyance with his tone, when she’d
gone way out of her way to help him.

“I was talking to your brother. I didn’t even know you were at the house until he told me.” David

showed her his smartphone, with which he’d obviously just hung up with Brad. “Get in the truck
before you catch pneumonia.”

“I’m not going to get in the truck,” she snapped back. “You’re never going to get it out of the ditch

in this weather, and if you do, you’ll just end up back in the ditch farther down the driveway. You’ll
have to leave your precious truck and walk back to the house like a sane person.” Her voice was loud
by necessity, to be heard over the wind whipping through her loose blond hair and damp clothes.

Her voice might have been a little louder than it needed to be.
He rolled his eyes, impatient either at her tone or at the situation, but he dug into the pockets of his

coat and pulled out wool-lined, leather gloves. “Here,” he said, thrusting them at her. “Wear these.
Why the hell did you leave the house without gloves?”

Rachel’s fingers were a scary red color now and so cold she could barely feel them. But she

wasn’t going to put up with that kind of treatment.

Especially not from him.
David had fucked her and dumped her when she was seventeen, and she hadn’t been smart or

mature enough to keep it from happening. But she was an adult now, and he wasn’t going to lecture
her like a foolish little girl.

She’d actually come out here in the ice to help the asshole.
Instead of giving him the rude retort that sprang to her lips, she said coolly, “Since you obviously

don’t need my help, you can get back to the house on your own or freeze to death with your truck,
whichever you’d prefer.”

Then she slammed the passenger door, a motion that jarred her hands painfully, and started

walking—slipping—back to the house.

To her horror, she was almost in tears. Because it was such a small town and he was still her

brother’s best friend, she still ran into David frequently—whenever she came to visit her family,
which averaged about once a month. She was usually able to act as though he didn’t exist or else
respond to him with disinterested civility.

This direct confrontation, however—on top of the effort and discomfort of the trek through the

sleet—brought all of her old hurt and anger to the surface.

Her brother was right. She should be over this by now. David shouldn’t still mean so much to her.

She shouldn’t react like this for no reason.

She hated him even more for making her feel so young, so helpless.
Her grandfather had been the most influential man in the county before he died last year. He’d

owned three lucrative car dealerships and had his hands in every aspect of local politics. Their
family had founded this town generations ago. All her life, people had assumed she was a spoiled
princess, no matter how hard she’d tried to prove herself otherwise.

She hated feeling that way—like no one thought she was capable of holding her own in the world.
Her walk down the drive was unstable and clumsy, since her little ankle boots had absolutely no

traction on the ice.

She didn’t look back to see if David followed her, although she desperately wanted to do so.
She’d gotten more than halfway to the house when one of her feet slipped on the sheet of ice

covering the pavement, and she completely lost her balance.

She fell down in an ungainly sprawl, the ice burning the skin of her freezing palms as she caught

herself. One of her ankles twisted beneath her.

The only thing she could process—as irrational as she knew it to be—was that this whole

horrible mess was David’s fault.

Without warning, strong hands started hauling her up.
Startled and disoriented, she fought them instinctively.
“Damn it, Rachel,” David gritted out, leaning over again and getting a better grip on her waist so

he could help her to her feet. “Why are you so ungodly stubborn?”

He was a lot stronger than she was, so she didn’t have a choice about standing up. Naturally, she

wouldn’t have wanted to stay on the icy ground, but her teeth were chattering with cold and fury both
as she straightened up. She was about to tell him very clearly that he was the stubborn one of the two
of them when her weight landed on her left foot.

It hurt so much her knees buckled, and she had to grab David’s arms to keep from falling again.
“What is it?” he demanded, sounding more bossy than concerned. “Your ankle?”
“I’m fine. I just twisted it.” She let go of him and forced herself to take a step. It hurt. A lot. She

ignored it, though.

When boys in her class at school had laughed at her insistence that girls could climb trees as well

as boys, her pride had compelled her to prove herself by climbing the same tall tree all of the boys
were, even though she’d been shaking with fear when she’d reached the highest branches.

When David had dumped her that summer eight years ago, her pride had compelled her to keep

anyone from knowing how much he’d crushed her.

She certainly had enough pride to make it back to the house on a twisted ankle now.
“You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” David said, falling in step with her and catching her with

one arm when she slipped again. “You can be invincible once we get back to the house, but you’re
going to have to put up with my help until then.”

She gasped in outrage and then regretted it, since the intake of frigid air hurt her throat. “I

wouldn’t be out here at all if you hadn’t been stupid enough to run your truck into a ditch, so don’t talk
to me about being ridiculous.”

He ignored her, too preoccupied with grabbing each of her wrists in turn and putting his big

leather gloves on her hands.

“I told you—”
“I know what you told me, but I’m not going to be blamed for your getting frostbite.”
She didn’t have a chance to let him know how utterly absurd the idea was of her getting frostbite

in the time it took to walk from the truck to the house because he was starting to move again.

Since his arm was around her waist, bracing her weight, she had no choice but to walk with him.
“Why are you wearing such ridiculous shoes?” he muttered, glaring down at her high-heeled

leather boots. “No wonder you sprained an ankle.”

“I wasn’t planning to hike in the ice, remember?” She had to fight the urge to pull away from him.

She hated the feel of his strong, lean body against hers, the feel of his arm around her waist, even
through several layers of thick fabric. It would be petty and counter-productive to pull away,

however, since it would only prolong the torturous trek to the house. “I got on the road right from
work, and I hadn’t had time to change when you ended up in the ditch.”

He made a grumble of sound, but it didn’t take the form of any words. She ignored it.
They finally limped their way to the side door of the house, and Rachel was so cold and wet and

angry that she just sat down on the bench in the mudroom, trying to remember the last time she’d been
so miserable.

The warm air of the house surrounded her like an embrace, but her skin was chapped, her ankle

throbbed, her teeth chattered, and her hands were still numb, despite David’s gloves.

David shook himself off like a dog and then got rid of his coat by the simple expedient of

dropping it on the tile floor.

He wore hiking books, worn jeans, and a gray flannel shirt layered over a thermal t-shirt. He

looked rugged, masculine, and so attractive that Rachel could hardly stand to look at him.

That fact made her even madder.
He frowned down at her. “Don’t just sit around in wet clothes. Get a move on.”
She glared up at him. He’d always been a little bossy—she remembered that very well from when

they’d both been kids—but this behavior was just outrageous.

“I don’t think I asked for your advice.” She was pleased her tone sounded cool and lofty rather

than petulant.

“Brad would never forgive me if I let you take pneumonia. Not to mention your mom. Can you

imagine how she’d lecture me?”

“I’m not going to take pneumonia. Don’t be melodramatic.” She did shoulder off her coat, though,

and leaned down to unzip her pretty, impractical boots.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked, watching as she pressed into it, trying to check its condition.
“Fine. Just twisted it.” It felt more like a sprain, but she wasn’t going to make a fuss. Especially in

front of David.

“Come on,” he said, stretching a hand toward her. “You need to warm up.”
She didn’t object, since her teeth were still chattering. She let him put an arm around her again so

she could lean against him as they walked.

It was worse this time, now that they weren’t wearing thick coats. She could feel his warmth,

smell his familiar scent, and feel the solid substance of his body beneath his clothes.

He led her to the radiator in the kitchen, conveniently located near the kitchen table. She sat on a

chair in front of the pleasantly wafting heat, finally having the courage to take off the gloves.

Her hands hurt like hell.
She’d been wearing David’s gloves, though, which meant he hadn’t been wearing any. So she

wasn’t about to complain that her hands were raw and numb.

She held her hands closer to the radiator and tried not to wince as the heat hit them.
He sat down on a chair next to her and, without speaking, took one of her hands in both of his,

gently rubbing it to restore the circulation.

He worked with his hands every day—he had all his life—so they were rough, strong, and

calloused. But he was gentle as he massaged her frozen fingers, and he didn’t say a word.

He wasn’t even looking at her, his eyes focused down on their hands.
For some reason—for no good reason—she felt her eyes burn with tears and her throat tighten.
She’d always thought he was gentle beneath his tough exterior. That was how he’d seemed

growing up. He would beat up bullies at school and take care of stray dogs. He’d helped her with her
car, with her science projects, and with boys that wouldn’t leave her alone, long before he thought
about her as anything but his friend’s little sister.

He’d been so careful—almost tender—when they’d made love under that tree. He’d been eager

but realized she was nervous, so he’d gone very slowly to make sure she enjoyed it too.

Even in the last few years, she couldn’t help but see how he silently helped people who needed it

—plowing snow from driveways for a few elderly women at church who would never be able to
afford to pay, keeping Brad out of trouble when he’d gone through a bitter divorce two years ago and
might have drunk himself into a stupor.

Rachel just couldn’t understand. How David could seem to have such a kind heart. How he could

massage her hands so gently even now.

And yet still have stomped her heart into the mud eight years ago.
She had to close her eyes, since for a moment she was sure she would cry.
It was probably just the aftermath of the cold and effort, but her heart ached as much as her body.
David had moved on to her other hand, and her fingers weren’t quite so painful. She’d stopped

shivering.

And now she was sitting in front of a radiator thinking soft thoughts about the man she was

supposed to hate.

She pulled her hand away from his and made herself stand up. “I need to change clothes.”
She wore a gray, pinstripe pants suit—stylish, flattering, and more expensive than she could

really afford. The bottom half of her pants were now soaking wet.

He stood up too, and she could feel his dark eyes searching her face.
She hoped he wouldn’t see how emotional she’d gotten, since she thought she’d managed to

control her expression, but he reached out and softly thumbed away a stray tear she hadn’t realized
had streamed from her eye.

“Rachel,” he said, his voice strangely thick. His brow lowered like he was trying to figure

something out.

He was probably wondering if she was really as pitiful as she appeared, still mooning over a man

who’d dumped her almost a decade ago.

She couldn’t bear for him to think that. She’d humiliated herself enough for one day.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, putting on the pose of indifference that had protected her for

all these years. “It looks like you’ll be stuck here for a while.”

She limped over to her suitcase, which she’d left in the hallway when she’d arrived to find an

empty house, but David beat her to it. He carried her luggage to her bedroom—the same room she’d
slept in all her life—and she mumbled thanks before she shut the door in his face.

She could get through this. The weather would hopefully clear up before evening.
She was an adult. She was a successful professional. She’d gone out with plenty of men since

she’d been in love with David back then.

Being stuck with him for a day wasn’t the end of the world.
He just didn’t mean that much to her anymore.

Two

“I’m sorry we can’t get home,” her mother said, her voice clearly anxious on the other end of the

phone call. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” As she talked, Rachel pulled on thick purple socks, carefully maneuvering

one of them over the bandage she’d wrapped her ankle in. “It’s no big deal. Of course, you and Brad
can’t come out here tonight if the weather is still so bad.”

“At least David is there. I’d be so nervous if you were all by yourself in that big house in the

storm.”

Rachel rolled her eyes but managed not to say anything rude.
“He’s such a dear boy. Did I tell you he spent a whole Saturday helping poor Mr. Foster rebuild

his porch after that terrible thunderstorm this summer?”

“Yes. You told me.”
“He’s always been so helpful and generous. I just don’t know why your grandfather didn’t like

him.”

“You know very well why Grandpa didn’t like him. His mom wasn’t married and worked in a

bar, and that meant David was beneath us.”

There had been rumors about his mother—about her doing more than working in the bar—but

Rachel had tried never to listen to them.

“You shouldn’t speak that way about your grandfather, especially now that he’s dead. He was so

good to us.”

“I loved Grandpa too, and I appreciate all he did for us. But he was a closed-minded, judgmental

snob, and there’s no getting around it.”

Rachel’s father had walked out on her mother shortly after she and Brad were born. Most of the

time, she resented him for abandoning his family. Occasionally, however, she understood how
difficult it would have been to be the son-in-law of her grandfather, who ran his daughter’s life the
same way he ran the county.

Rachel had run herself ragged trying to make sure her interest in David as a teenager was hidden

from her grandfather, since he never would have approved and she never would have heard the end of
it.

As it turned out, David had dumped her before her grandfather ever found out.
“I wish you wouldn’t say such things,” her mother murmured, clearly agreeing with Rachel’s

assessment but preferring not to hear it said.

“I’m sorry. The point is David is here if there’s an emergency, but I’d be perfectly fine on my

own. You and Brad stay safe and don’t try to come out tonight. We’ll still have Christmas together.”

Rachel let out a long exhale as she ended the call.
Her mom was feeling bad enough. She wasn’t about to let her know how horrible spending the

night here with David in the middle of an ice storm was going to be for Rachel.

At least the house was big. Six bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a huge basement family room. Her

grandfather had spared no expense when he’d restored the hundred-year-old farmhouse. She could

keep her distance from David until morning.

She stood up from her bed and checked herself out in the full-length mirror.
She’d taken a hot shower to warm herself up and get the ice out of her hair, and then she’d put on

yoga pants and a soft green sweater that matched her eyes and flattered her figure. She was smoothing
down her hair when she realized what she was doing.

Primping. Making sure she looked pretty for when she saw David again.
Disgusted with herself, she pulled the sweater off over her head and dug in her closet until she

found an oversized, worn sweatshirt from their high school football team that used to be Brad’s.

She pulled the sweatshirt on instead. It was very baggy on her small body. Not flattering at all.
Much better.
Then she went into the bathroom and braided her hair into two long braids. She wore her hair that

way around her apartment, since the style kept it out of her way and didn’t poke the back of her head
like a ponytail did. But she wasn’t in the habit of wearing pigtails in public.

The braids and baggy sweatshirt made her look like a little girl, but she didn’t care.
She didn’t want David to think for a moment that she wanted to look pretty for him.
And she didn’t want to confuse herself that way either.
Her ankle still hurt, but she could walk better now that it was wrapped. She limped downstairs

and found David in the kitchen.

She stood in the doorway, staring at him. He knelt on the ground, bending over at a strange angle,

working at one of the cabinet hinges with a screwdriver he’d flipped out from the multi-tool he
always carried.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He jerked, evidently startled by her presence. He actually hit his head on the top of the cabinet as

he attempted to straighten up.

“What does it look like?”
She didn’t appreciate his grumpy tone. “It looks like you’re doing something to my mom’s cabinet

door.”

“All the hinges are loose. I was just tightening them.”
“You’ve been here less than thirty minutes. Why would you feel the need to meddle with my

mother’s hinges?”

“What else do I have to do? I was making coffee and noticed that the cabinet door was about to

fall off. So I checked the rest and they’re all loose.”

She went to the coffee pot, which he’d gestured toward by way of evidence for the validity of his

claims. She poured herself a cup of coffee, since it was already made.

“We don’t need your help with the cabinets.”
“Well, someone needed to fix them, and no one had. I don’t know why Brad would have let them

go so long.”

“They’re my mother’s cabinets. Not Brad’s.”
“Do you really think your mother’s going to get down on her hands and knees like this and tighten

the screws?”

She wouldn’t—obviously. Her mother had bad knees and hadn’t done a piece of manual labor in

her life. Rachel’s grandfather probably wouldn’t have let her, even if she’d felt the inclination.

“Would you stop?” Rachel felt an irrational resentment at the sight of David working in her

mother’s kitchen. “You don’t need to do work around our house.”

He shrugged and ignored her. “I only have two more to go.”
She gave a frustrated huff as she poured cream into her coffee.
She tried not to watch David work. Bending over as he was gave her a great view of muscular

thighs and a very fine ass through the denim of his jeans.

He was absolutely infuriating. And even more so because he was so damned hot.
“How’s your ankle?” His voice was muffled because his head was basically inside one of the

bottom cabinets, but she heard it well enough.

“It’s fine. My mom says they can’t get out here tonight because of the weather, so she and Brad

are staying in town.”

“I could have told you that.”
She took a deep breath to keep from snapping at him. She’d vowed during her shower that she

was going to be as civil as she could, but he was already testing her patience. “I’m surprised, with
your almighty powers of prediction, that you couldn’t forecast the storm and avoid getting stuck on the
icy roads today.”

“It came in quicker than it was supposed to.”
That was what Brad had said too.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your fun with the screwdriver. I’m going to—”
She broke off when loud clicks and beeps sounded from different parts of the house. All the lights

went out.

It wasn’t dark outside yet, so she could still see around the room, but she knew very well what

this meant. “Damn it.”

“I’m surprised the power lasted as long as it did with all this ice.” David closed the last cabinet

door and straightened up. His expression changed when his eyes landed on her for the first time. “I
haven’t seen that sweatshirt for a long time.”

She’d worn it all through high school and college, after stealing it from Brad’s closet. It had

always been her favorite, despite how big it was on her.

She pushed the cuffs up to her wrists self-consciously, uncomfortable at the softness of David’s

mouth. “Can we try to focus on essentials? We need to switch over to the generator or it’s going to get
really cold in here tonight.”

He stood up. “Is your panel in the basement?”
“Yeah. I’ll go switch it on.”
She found a flashlight and headed down to the transfer switch in the basement and was annoyed

that David came with her.

When she switched to the generator panel, nothing happened.
David peered at it, checking out the wires and connections. “It’s all hooked up right. I’ll have to

check out the outside unit.”

David could do every kind of home repair. Carpentry, tiling, plumbing, electrical, anything that

could be done with tools and his hands. He’d built his house from the ground up—entirely by himself.
He would know how to fix the generator, if it was possible in this situation.

“It’s just off the deck, isn’t it?” he asked as they went back upstairs.
“Yeah. Next to the air conditioner thingy.”
“Compressor,” he corrected automatically, causing her to frown.

David strode to the mud room, and Rachel followed more slowly because of her ankle. When he

pulled his coat on, she started to put hers on as well.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“To check out the generator. What did you think?”
“There’s no reason for you to go out too.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“It’s a one-person job, and you have a sprained ankle and—”
“A twisted ankle.”
“A sprained ankle and damp hair. Your braids would freeze and break off.”
She stared at him in disbelief, until she saw the corner of his mouth twitch just slightly.
He was mocking her.
Ridiculously, she wanted to smile in response to the suppressed amusement in his expression.

Fortunately, she was able to resist the impulse.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” he continued, giving one of her braids a little flick. “Just think how long it

took you to grow your hair out to this length.”

It had taken her years, and the thought gave her pause. She’d heard stories of women’s hair

freezing when wet and snapping off. She just wasn’t sure if they were urban legends or not.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an obnoxious asshole?” she gritted out from between her

teeth.

“No one but you.” He opened the patio door, letting in a rush of frigid air and sharp sleet.

“Seriously, Rachel. Unless you know how to fix a generator, you’re not going to be able to help me
out there. Please stay inside.”

“Fine. Since you said ‘please’.”
She had no desire to go back out in the ice, after her trip down and up the driveway. But she still

felt like she should go with David, even though she wouldn’t be any earthly good, merely to prove she
was capable of it.

She waited at the patio door and watched. She didn’t have a view of the generator, so she didn’t

know what he was doing out there. The weather was horrible, though, and the longer he was outside,
the more worried she became.

After a few minutes, she remember seeing a bag of ice melt in the mudroom, and she realized she

should put some down on the deck so David wouldn’t slip and twist his ankle too as he came back.

She grabbed the bag and then opened the sliding door. The deck was slick as an ice rink, but she

very carefully sprinkled the ice melt, bracing herself against the wind and the sleet.

She saw David approaching in the yard. His head was ducked to protect his face, so he didn’t see

her until he stepped onto the deck.

She was hurriedly sprinkling the ice melt over the last few feet he would have to walk over.
“Get back inside,” he bellowed as he strode over toward her and started pushing her back to the

house. “Are you crazy?”

He slammed the door shut and rubbed the ice off his face.
“There’s no reason to yell at me like that. I was trying to help.”
“You don’t even have a coat on.”
It was true, but it didn’t make his rudeness any more palatable. Deciding to rise above him by

maintaining her manners, she asked coolly, “Were you able to fix the generator?”

“No. The battery’s dead. Brad evidently hasn’t tried to turn the thing on for months, which defeats

the purpose of even having a standby generator.”

“Would we have a spare battery on hand, do you think?” She had no idea, since she hadn’t lived

in this house for years.

“Probably not. We can look.”
They traipsed back down to the basement, where the supplies were kept, after briefly arguing

about whether she would go with him, but there was no spare battery for the generator.

“What was Brad thinking?” David muttered as he scanned the shelves one last time. “He should

be testing that thing every month, at the very least. I test mine every week.”

“I’m sure you’re the very model of a generator owner, but would you stop griping about Brad?

It’s not the end of the world.”

She was a little annoyed with Brad herself, but at least she had legitimate reason to be. He was

her brother.

David had no right to complain at all.
“What if you’d been here by yourself in this storm without heat or power?”
“I’m a reasonably intelligent adult. I would have managed.”
“What if your mother was stuck out here by herself?” A kind of shuddering intensity was radiating

off him, evident in his tense shoulders, dark eyes, and tight mouth. It was strangely mesmerizing.
Strangely attractive.

And completely unreasonable.
Rachel opened her mouth to reply, but then shut it. Her mother was a basically intelligent adult

too, but she’d always been a little bit helpless.

Rachel didn’t at all like the idea of her mother getting trapped in this big old house by herself with

no power.

She would definitely be talking to Brad herself.
But she wasn’t going to encourage David to be any pushier and more obnoxious than he already

was, so she just collected as many flashlights and battery-powered lanterns as she could carry and
started back up the stairs.

She wished her ankle didn’t hurt so much so she could have made a more dignified retreat.
“You should put ice on that ankle,” David called out after her.
It took all of her self-control to restrain a loud, frustrated roar of response.
She looked in the living room to see how much firewood was in the rack next to the fireplace. Just

one log.

She knew for a fact that her mother had a load of firewood delivered every winter, so there would

be no problem with that at least.

She went back to the mud room and pulled on a different coat—a big insulated one that belonged

to her mother. It wasn’t nearly as stylish as her red one but much more practical. Then she put on a
pair of gloves and opened the carport door.

The large log rack for the firewood supply was across the carport, against the tool shed.
She walked across to it, opened the nylon cover, and grabbed three logs, which was as much as

she could carry. Then she headed back into the house.

She’d almost reached the door when David appeared in front of her, glaring at her with obvious

annoyance.

“Why didn’t you wait and let me do that?”
“Why should I? I’m perfectly capable of carrying a few logs.”
He tried to take them away from her, but she jerked away from him, wincing when she twisted her

ankle in the process.

“Damn it, Rachel,” he muttered.
She didn’t reply, carrying the logs back into the house.
He grabbed an armful himself and was bringing them in as she went back for more.
He didn’t object any further, which was good. The carport roof kept out the sleet, but it was still

too cold and windy to waste time arguing.

When they’d brought in enough for the night, David shut the door hard.
He dropped his coat back to the floor and looked like he was going to say something.
She spoke before he could. “I’m not a child or an invalid or a spoiled princess, and I don’t

appreciate being treated like one.”

“I’m not treating you like any of those things. And, if you weren’t so ludicrously determined to act

invincible so that no one ever thinks you’re a spoiled princess, you wouldn’t refuse even the most
reasonable offers of help.”

She stiffened with a flash of hot anger. “I accept help when I need it and from people I trust. I

don’t need help from you.”

“Well, you’re stuck with my help, whether you like it or not.”
“What is it about these words that you don’t understand? I don’t need any help. You can stay here

because you can’t possibly leave, but that doesn’t mean I have to consent to your pushing your way
into my business and bossing me around. I’m not helpless. I live by myself all the time. And I don’t
now—and I never will—need some big, strong man to come rescue me.”

She was so angry she shook with it. She’d managed to get her coat off, so she hung it up on its

hook. Then she picked up David’s coat and hung it up too.

He stood watching her—she could feel him watching her—as she slid off her mom’s snow boots

and walked back into the kitchen.

As quickly as it had risen, her anger drained away. She was suddenly exhausted and defeated and

ridiculously close to crying.

Her ankle throbbed. Her head was starting to hurt. She was stranded in this big drafty house. It

was getting darker and colder by the minute. She was going to have to figure out something for dinner,
and then she was going to have to sleep near the fireplace, since it would be the only warm place in
the whole house.

There would be no way to get away from David.
Whom she still wanted. No matter how deeply she knew she should never want him again.
She went to her bedroom, since it was the only privacy she could find.
She sat down on the bed and pulled her left leg out to inspect her ankle.
It was hurting now worse than ever.
She heard a tap on the door. “What do you want?” she asked, more resigned than angry.
“I’ve come with a peace offering.”
There was no peace he could offer that would mend the rift between them. They were both stuck

here for the night, however, and it was foolish for them to keep fighting.

“The door is opened.”

He opened the door and came in, carrying a gel-filled icepack in a soft blue cover that he must

have found in the freezer.

“That’s supposed to be a peace offering? It looks more like covert bossing.”
“This isn’t the peace offering,” he replied, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling her ankle

onto his lap.

She should pull away, but she just didn’t have the energy.
He started unwrapping the bandage she’d wrapped after her shower. “This is a necessity.”
She made an impatient face, but that was the extent of her response. When he’d unwrapped the

bandage, he gently folded the icepack around her throbbing ankle. Then he handed her ibuprophen and
a bottle of water he’d stuck in his shirt pocket.

She took the pills. Then leaned back and closed her eyes. “Thanks.”
“That wasn’t the peace offering either.”
She gave him a silent, questioning look.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’m sorry if I was too pushy. When I get

worried, I have a bad habit of taking over—but I didn’t mean to bulldoze you.”

He sounded sincere. But then he’d sounded sincere when he was nineteen and he’d told her she

was prettiest, sweetest girl he’d ever known.

She took a breath that was only slightly shaky. “Thanks. I’m sorry if I was too stubborn. I get that

way when I’m bulldozed.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in that irresistible way he had. “That I know.”
She should be mad at him. For so many things. But he looked like he was really trying to be nice

—at least so they could get through the night—and she didn’t have the energy for more fighting right
now anyway.

She realized her mouth was wobbling slightly, almost answering his smile.
He moved her foot back onto the bed carefully and stood up. “I’m going to make a fire in the

fireplace. You should keep the icepack on your ankle for at least ten minutes.”

She arched her eyebrows.
“Only if you want to, of course, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to know you need to do it.”
She huffed—half in amusement and half in indignation. She wasn’t sure which feeling had the

upper hand.

She stayed on her bed with the icepack on her ankle, however. It was actually starting to feel a

little better.

She began to get chilly, since the radiator in her room was no longer putting out heat, so she

pulled a crocheted afghan over her. It was growing darker in the room, which made her feel drowsy.

Before she realized what was happening, she’d actually dozed off.
She didn’t sleep long or very deeply because she woke when she felt something shift on her foot.
David had come back in, taken the icepack off her ankle, and was wrapping it up again.
She blinked up at him groggily, slightly disoriented.
She was even more disoriented by the strangely soft look in his eyes. “It’s getting cold in here,”

he murmured. “Do you want to come to the living room? I’ve got the fire going good.”

She nodded, since she was definitely getting cold, and managed to push herself up to a sitting

position.

He reached down to help her to her feet.

“You shouldn’t put weight on your ankle. I’d carry you, but I have a feeling that generous offer

would be rejected.”

“It would definitely be rejected.” She did lean on him a little, and she couldn’t help but like how

lean, solid, and warm his body was, even through his clothes.

“Your loss.”
His voice sounded strange—with more texture than it normally had—so she looked up to search

his face.

She froze when she saw the expression in his eyes. Her lips parted, and she couldn’t look away.
It looked like warmth, laughter, fondness, tenderness, all mingled in his eyes as he gazed down at

her.

She wanted it. Needed it. It was what she’d always wanted. She stretched up toward him without

any conscious thought.

He bent his head down. Then he was kissing her.
And she was kissing him back.
His arm around her waist tightened, pressing her more snugly against his chest. She wrapped her

arms around his neck as his lips moved against hers—first gently, carefully, as if he were learning her
responses.

Pleasure and excitement roared in her ears as her body softened against his. When she felt his

tongue tease between her lips, she opened for him eagerly.

His tongue caressed the underside of each lip and then tangled with hers. It felt so good she

moaned softly and moved one hand up to grab his head and hold it in place.

His lips briefly parted from hers, but only to readjust his head. “Rachel,” she heard him breathe.

“Rachel.”

She whimpered a response when he deepened the kiss once more. Her whole body pulsed in

response, and arousal tightened achingly between her legs.

Then she readjusted her weight and felt a sudden jolt of pain from her ankle.
She broke the kiss abruptly with a muffled sound.
“Okay?” he asked, his embrace immediately becoming supportive rather than passionate.
“Yeah. Just my ankle.” Her cheeks were already flushed, but they flushed even more as she

realized what she’d been doing.

Kissing David Harris. As if he was any other attractive man.
As if he weren’t the man who’d so callously broken her heart.
He must think she was the easiest mark in the world, falling for him not once but twice.
The realization hurt more than she’d thought it could, but she wasn’t about to let him know.
She might be an idiot, but she wasn’t weak.
When she looked up again, he seemed to be leaning down into another kiss, that same hot

tenderness smoldering in his eyes.

She put a hand on his chest to push him away slowly. “I hope the apology was the peace offering

and not the kiss,” she said, pleased her voice was light and breezy, like kissing him was a fun
diversion but nothing important. “Because the kiss is definitely not going to work.”

Three

For just a moment, David looked like he’d been sucker-punched.
The expression was so inexplicable and so brief that Rachel assumed she must have imagined it.

She still felt awkward and kind of sick, though, as she left her bedroom and limped to the kitchen.

She couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to kiss David, after everything that had happened.

She must be some sort of secret masochist, just asking for more pain.

She did her best to shake off the feeling. There was no escape—at least for tonight—and she had

to somehow make it through the next twelve hours.

The fire David had built in the double-sided fireplace was blazing nicely, warming both the

kitchen and the living room. She stood in front of it for a minute, warming up and listening to the cozy
crackling sound.

“I guess we should find something for dinner,” David said, coming into the kitchen to join her. He

looked perfectly normal—calm, matter-of-fact, in control.

Rachel wished desperately that she was as controlled as he always was.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I can’t believe it’s already so late. The stove should work since it’s gas. We

can just light the eye manually. I’m sure there’s canned soup in the pantry.”

They both went to investigate the large, well-stocked pantry, and Rachel handed David a couple

of cans of expensive beef and vegetable soup. “Can you get this going? I’ll make us some sandwiches
too.”

She followed him back into the kitchen with a loaf of crusty bread, and, while he worked on

lighting the eye, she opened the refrigerator.

Her mother’s kitchen was always stocked with food. She went grocery shopping almost every

day, and she never bought anything cheap or on sale. She’d never used a coupon in her life. So the
deli meat, cheese, and condiments Rachel gathered were all as gourmet as was possible to find in the
rural county.

It was only after Rachel had started living on her own that she realized how expensive such items

could be.

“It’s still cold in the refrigerator,” she said, taking her haul to the big kitchen table. She was

mostly just making conversation. “Hopefully, the power will come on before my mom loses all of this
food.”

“We could always just move it outside.” David’s voice was light and dry, and his focus was on

stirring the pot of soup.

Feeling the need for extra fortification, she went over to the bar and poured herself a glass from

an opened bottle of red wine. “Do you want a beer?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Whatever you have there is fine.”
She poured him wine too and then took the glasses and bottle over to the table.
She made sandwiches quickly. Since the soup wasn’t quite hot yet, she killed time by checking her

smartphone for email and the forecast.

“They’re saying it’s supposed to stop around midnight and then warm up tomorrow, so hopefully

it shouldn’t be bad for long.”

“Good.”
She felt uncomfortable and strangely shy—and she hated feeling that way—so she kept going

through email and texting back a couple of friends as David brought the soup over to the table in two
big bowls.

“Anything going on?” he asked, nodding toward her phone.
She shook her head. “Just looking at work email.”
She put the phone away as they ate. Her mother had taught her manners, and that would just be

rude. It was a safety net anyway, and she’d rather be strong enough to get through this meal without
artificial security.

“How do you like your job?” he asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.
It was a perfectly innocuous question. The kind of casual inquiry anyone might make to be polite.

She and David weren’t casual, though, and they weren’t innocuous.

They weren’t anything.
She forced down the swell of defensive resentment and made herself answer. “It’s fine.”
“Your mom said you got another promotion this year.”
“I did.” She took a slow sip of wine, mostly to pause and collect her thoughts. There was no

reason for it to be a problem, but it bothered her that her mother had been talking to David about her
job. “My philosophy is that if you show up on time and do all your work without causing any
problems, you’re probably doing better than most other people and they’ll eventually promote you.”

“You don’t think you’re good at what you do?”
“Oh, sure. I think I do a decent job. But I’m not a marketing guru or anything.”
His dark eyes, almost black in the glow of the firelight, were focused on her for real, not looking

just past her the way he’d been doing since they’d entered the kitchen. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Sure. It’s like any other job. Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it drives you crazy.”
“You used to want to run a flower shop in town.”
She put down the spoon she’d just been raising to her mouth and stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted to do? You said you wanted to be surrounded by flowers.”
“I was twelve!”
“You said something similar when you were older.” He shrugged. “I thought you were serious.”
She swallowed hard. She couldn’t believe David remembered such a random, foolish detail, and

it bothered her unduly. “Kids are serious about a lot of silly things. This community could never
support a flower shop.”

“A lot of people die and get married and have anniversaries in this county and want something

better than grocery store flowers. With your marketing background, I’m sure you could—”

“Would you stop?” she interrupted, sounding sharper than she’d intended. “I’ve already got a

good job.”

“Do you like living in Richmond?”
She raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure. It just gets some getting used to.”
“You still come here a lot to visit. Do you miss it?”
He knew far too much about her life, and he was asking too many questions. It was none of his

business if she missed her home town—which she did—or if she would be happier doing something
different than she was.

“Why am I the one getting the interrogation? What about you? Didn’t you want to make furniture

when you were younger?”

She asked it in a tone that implied it was a very vague memory, but she knew very well it had

been his dream for years.

He met her eyes evenly. “I do make furniture.”
“On the side, maybe. But you can’t have a lot of extra time with all your business.”
He just shrugged, much as she had earlier.
“Do you like what you do?”
“I’m good at it, and people need a trustworthy contractor.”
“I know that, but it’s not what I asked. Wouldn’t you rather just be doing carpentry?”
He’d finished his sandwich, but he still looked down at his empty plate. Finally, his eyes lifted to

hers again. “We all grow up.”

She understood him. She understood him perfectly. She’d gone through the same experience. In the

real world, you couldn’t always do what made you most happy. You made do. You adjusted. You let
go.

She’d held his gaze for too long, and she felt her cheeks warming as she glanced down, flustered

and confused.

She finished her soup without talking.
When they’d washed up, she picked up a flashlight and said, “I guess I’ll find something to read.

Or something.”

David nodded. “I’m going to check outside and make sure everything’s okay with the house.”
It was pitch black outside and sounded awful, but she didn’t object. He was a grown man. If he

wanted to go outside in this weather and be idiotic, then he was allowed to do so.

She went to the bathroom and then decided she might as well get ready for bed. She changed into

a pair of fitted fleece pajamas—the warmest she had—and pulled the sweatshirt on over them. She
found a book, poured herself another glass of wine, and got the ice pack for her ankle. She was
stretched out on the big couch in front of the fire when David came back in.

Ice was falling off him in little clicks as he moved.
“How is everything?”
“Looks okay. You’ve lost a few branches but none of the trees. And the roof is holding up well.”
“Good.”
Since she’d brought the bottle and his empty glass into the living room, he poured himself the last

of the bottle.

She was trying to occupy herself with her book, but she couldn’t help but look over at him.
He was as scrumptiously masculine as always, his five-o’clock shadow even darker and his skin

flushed slightly from the wind and cold. But he also looked uncomfortable in his boots and jeans.

“You can check Brad’s old room for something to change into for the night, if you want. He’s still

got tons of sweats and stuff up there. You might find something that fits. You might as well be
comfortable.”

He hesitated slightly. Then nodded.
She was doing no better about focusing on the book when he returned about ten minutes later.
He wore an old pair of black sweats—just slightly too short—and a gray sweatshirt that matched

the one she was wearing—also from their high school football team but with a different year’s logo.

“Don’t laugh,” he said, catching her scrutiny. “I didn’t realize Brad was so short.”
She did laugh, finding the little twitch at the corner of his mouth irresistible. “Don’t tell him that

or you’ll hurt his poor feelings.”

Brad wasn’t particularly short, four inches taller than she was, but he was two inches shorter than

David.

David looked different than normal. More relaxed. Less protected. Just as sexy.
It gave her a painful twist in her stomach.
He sat down at the end of the couch and put her feet in his lap. When she gave him a questioning

look, he just said, “You should keep the ankle elevated.”

This sounded reasonable enough, and she could hardly banish him to one of the two wing chairs—

which weren’t comfortable to sit in for very long—or the window seat, which was much farther from
the fireplace.

He’d found a book too, so they both read for a while by the light of the fire and the lantern. David

would occasionally get up to return the icepack to the freezer, tend the fire, or get another icepack for
her ankle.

After a couple of hours, Rachel had to put down her book, since she was too sleepy to concentrate

on the words.

She was getting chilly, despite the fire. The temperature must be dropping even more in the house.
She got up to go to the bathroom and find flannel sheets and a heavy blanket. She was on her way

back when she stepped on her ankle wrong. She went down, wrenching her ankle even more in the
process.

She cursed and bit her lip and tried to stifle involuntary whimpers at the pain.
It took her a minute to get her breath back and then another minute to get herself back to her feet.

She was in the middle of the hall, and there was nothing except the wall to pull herself up by.

She was finally up and shuffling back to the living room with her arms full of sheets and blanket,

her teeth chattering from cold and her ankle throbbing brutally, when David appeared in front of her.

He was the last person she wanted to see.
With an impatient look, he moved quickly to put an arm around her to support some of her weight.

He also took the blankets out of her hands. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” She was cold, hurt, and frustrated—and now she was embarrassed. “I just fell down.

I’m fine.”

“Why the hell didn’t you call out for help?” he demanded, sounding as bad-tempered as he’d been

that afternoon.

“Because I didn’t need help.” She gritted out the words through a clenched jaw and eyed him

resentfully. She should have known he couldn’t stay un-obnoxious for long.

“You did need my help. You can barely walk now and you’re freezing.”
She tried desperately to keep her teeth from chattering but she couldn’t seem to do it.
“I’ve never seen anyone as stubborn as you.”
“Have you looked in a mirror?” she snapped, with what she thought was impressive acuity.
“If I had a sprained ankle, I would damned well let someone help me.”
“You would not. You would hide away until it got better. You have no right to reproach me for

being stubborn. Remember when you were fifteen? You wouldn’t let the church help your mom when
her basement was flooded. You insisted on doing the whole thing yourself. You built your whole
damned house by yourself, even though Brad tried to help almost every weekend. You haven’t
accepted any gift or gesture of charity for the last fifteen years. How dare you try to tell me that I’m
too stubborn?”

He was stewing and glowering as she lashed out, but at least he was also being proactive. He’d

gotten her back to the couch, helped her spread the flannel sheet on the couch, and covered her up
with a blanket when she’d sat down and then stretched out.

Now he just walked out of the room, leaving her so surprised she couldn’t even be outraged.
She’d never known him to walk out so rudely on an argument.
He returned almost immediately with a fresh icepack. He tried to put it on her ankle, but she

jerked away as soon as she felt it.

“It’s too cold.” She huddled under the blanket, trying to suppress her helpless shivering. The fire

helped, but not fast enough.

“You need it,” he said mildly, “Or your ankle will swell up even more.”
She knew he was right, so she didn’t argue any further, but the icepack made her whole body even

colder.

He looked down at her for a long moment, and she didn’t understand the look in his eyes. Then he

gestured with his hand. “Can you scoot up a minute?”

She did as he said, although she had no idea why he was asking.
She found out soon enough when he lowered himself to the couch beside her. Before she knew

what was going on, he’d rearranged them both so she was in his arms, leaning back against his chest.

It was wrong. It was utterly wrong. She was so cold, though, and his body was deliciously warm.

She really liked how it felt to be held by him.

They’d sat that way for hours that one summer, talking, watching television, just being together.
He was rearranging the blanket over them both, and the tension was so palpable that Rachel

thought she would drown in it. In an attempt to break it, she said lightly, “This is just a sneaky way to
share my blanket, since you’re too lazy to get your own.”

He laughed, soft and low. She loved how it sounded and how it felt. “Guilty.”
She huddled against him and soon she stopped shivering.
They were both staring at the fire when David returned to their previous conversation. “The things

you call stubbornness in me are not really that. It’s self-sufficiency. It’s important to me. And it’s a
different thing.”

“Why is it so important to be self-sufficient?” It was a genuine question, since her previous anger

had almost entirely vanished.

He didn’t answer.
She turned her body slightly to look up at him. His face was just a few inches from hers. “David?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, sounding uncomfortable and not looking her in the eye. “Just a way

to prove myself, I guess.”

“Prove yourself what?”
He didn’t answer directly this time. Instead, he said in a different tone, “You know how it was for

my mom. This is a small town, and people are…judgmental.”

“People are judgmental in cities too. They’re just not in your face quite so much.” She exhaled. “I

know people judged your mom. My grandpa did, and he was…terrible about it. But not everyone here
did. And no one has ever judged you.”

“Haven’t they?”
His body felt tenser than it had been before. She knew he was feeling something deeply, and her

heart ached for him. “Who judged you? You were always popular at school, and everyone in town

thinks you walk on water now.”

“I had a long way to climb.” The words were soft, uninflected, not bitter, just resigned.
“David,” she said, feeling strangely urgent and emotional. She turned over so she was facing him

—and also practically lying on top of him. She wanted to see his face, though. “Who judged you?
What are you talking about? We never did. Me and Brad and Mom. I swear we never did.”

“I know you didn’t.” His eyes were strange—somehow soft and urgent all at once.
“We all thought you were…we thought you were great.” Her voice wobbled at the end, since the

past tense was so crushing.

She would have still thought he was great—the best man she knew other than Brad—had he not

treated her so heartlessly eight years ago.

She still didn’t understand. It just didn’t seem to fit.
“I knew that. You have no idea what it meant to me.” His arms were still around her, and one of

them tightened deliciously. The other hand slid down her spine until it pressed against the small of her
back.

It felt like they were embracing, and Rachel wanted to feel it even more.
Her mind a befuddled tangle, she managed to recover the thread of their earlier conversation.
“So if it’s so important for you to be self-sufficient, why do you call my self-sufficiency stubborn?

Why can’t I be self-sufficient too?” Her voice got strangely hoarse on the last words, and it wasn’t
because she wanted to cry.

He lifted the hand that had been caressing her back and cupped her cheek with it instead.

“Because I’m here,” he murmured. “Because I’m here, and I want to help you.”

Her lips parted unconsciously at the tenderness of the words, and maybe he took it as an

invitation.

He drew her head down toward his until their lips met. It wasn’t demanding or intrusive—just

gentle and almost needy.

She couldn’t help but respond as feeling and sensation swelled up inside her with the brush of his

lips.

She shifted enough to bring one hand up so she could stroke his face, loving the texture of his

bristles against her palm.

He deepened the kiss slowly, sliding his tongue along the contour of her lips and slipping one

hand down to rub the small of her back and then lower to her bottom.

She shifted in pleasure, opening her mouth to feel him more deeply and rubbing her breasts

against his chest.

“Rachel,” he said thickly, when he finally pulled away but just to press soft little kisses on the

corners of her mouth. “Rachel, how’s your ankle?”

The laughter hit her so suddenly she giggled helplessly against his mouth.
He smiled into one last brief kiss as his arms tightened around her. “Despite how that sounded, I

wasn’t intending to change the subject. I just meant I don’t want you to do anything to hurt your ankle.”

“My ankle isn’t acutely involved in this process.”
With a huff of amusement, he turned them both over so she was on her back and he was on top of

her. “Good.” He leaned down into another kiss.

Rachel shifted beneath him as their embrace intensified, and, when she’d freed one of her legs,

she wrapped it around his hip, needing to feel his hard body against the delicious ache between her

legs.

She heard him make a rough noise low in his throat, and he broke from her mouth to bury his face

in the crook of her neck. “Rachel,” he murmured, mouthing the throbbing pulse at her throat. “Rachel,
if you’re going to stop, please let me know now.”

Her head spun and her body pulsed and David was the only thing in the world that she wanted.
She knew it was wrong. It was foolish. It would make everything so much harder.
At the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
She adjusted until she found the bulge at his groin and rubbed herself against it shamelessly. “I’m

not going to stop.”

Four

Rachel still had all her clothes on, but she couldn’t remember ever being so aroused in her life.
She’d been completely into it when she and David had sex the first time, responding easily to his

touch and his kisses, but she’d also been really inexperienced and nervous—both things distracting
her a little from pure enjoyment of her physical responses. She’d had sex since then. Not with a huge
number of men, since she’d only ever had sex with men she was dating seriously. She’d had plenty of
decent sex, though. Even really good sex.

It had never felt like this—like if she didn’t have David right now she would actually implode.
He seemed to feel the same way, since his mouth and his hands became immediately more

demanding. She loved how strong he was, how much tension she could feel in his lean body. She
squirmed against it, seeking stimulation wherever she could.

With a hoarse gasp, he broke out of the kiss and edged his body up away from hers slightly. “Hold

on a second,” he rasped.

She made an impatient sound and pressed against his erection again. “I don’t want to hold on a

second.”

He groaned almost helplessly as she ground herself against him. “Me either. But we need a

condom, don’t we?”

She cursed under her breath and controlled herself enough to relax her body and lower the leg that

had been wrapped around him. “Yeah. We better.”

“I don’t have any with me. Are there any in the house?”
She doubted it, since Brad didn’t live here anymore, unless he’d hidden some away in a dark

corner back in high school. She kind of liked that David didn’t habitually carry condoms around with
him, since it seemed to indicate he wasn’t in the habit of having sex at the drop of a hat. Plus, his lack
of preparation didn’t matter since she already had it covered. “I have one in my purse. In the mud
room.”

Her ankle hurt, she was really turned on, and she didn’t want to leave the cozy couch next to the

fire, so she was relieved when David eased himself off her and stood up.

She snickered, however, when she saw how stiffly he moved.
He slanted her an aggrieved look.
“Self-sufficient, remember?” she teased. “You have to go get your own condom, hard-on or not.”
He laughed breathily as he disappeared into the kitchen, which connected to the mudroom, and he

was still smiling when he returned a few seconds later.

He handed her the black designer purse, and she found a foil condom packet in a side zipper

pocket.

“Do you always carry condoms around?” he asked.
She felt herself blushing, although she was sure he couldn’t tell because she was already so

flushed from the fire and from excitement. “A lady is always prepared,” she said primly.

She’d never once used a condom she had stashed away, but he didn’t have to know that.
“An excellent philosophy.”
She leaned over to put her purse on the coffee table before she was uprooted from her position by

David.

He lowered himself back onto the couch and pulled her in his arms once more, rolling her onto

her back so he was above her again.

“Damn, Rachel,” he said thickly, his lips just above hers. “I want you so much.”
His tone and the words made her chest hurt. Her pulse fluttering, she tried to sustain their light

banter, since it felt so much safer than this growing intensity. “I know that. Sweatpants don’t hide
much, you know.”

He was giving her little kisses—pressing his mouth onto her lips, the corner of her mouth, and her

cheeks. But he chuckled at her words, causing his breath to blow against her skin. “Sadly, I know that
all too well.”

“But the good thing is there’s no sense in hiding what is so very impressive.” She squeezed her

hand between their bodies so she could wrap it around his erection through the fabric.

He grunted in response.
She was so pleased with his reaction—the idea of having that kind of power over such a strong,

controlled man—that she squeezed him again and then started to stroke him through his pants.

He closed his eyes, but she tried to take note of what he seemed to like the most—what made his

breath hitch or his body jerk.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “Okay. Not that I’m not appreciative of the kindness, but any more

kindness of this kind and I’m going to lose it.”

He readjusted above her as she giggled, and then he pulled her sweatshirt off over her head.
He frowned at the long-sleeve fleece top she wore under it. “Are you warm enough for me to—”
“Yeah. I’m not really cold anymore.”
She helped him get the top off and laughed delightedly at his aggrieved expression when he saw

she was wearing a ribbed t-shirt beneath it. “How many tops do you wear?”

“I was cold,” she explained. The laughter had relaxed her and made her less aware of the

significance of what was happening. Her breath caught in her throat, however, as he pulled her last
shirt off and stared hungrily down at her bare breasts.

“You’re so beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss her, cupping one breast in his rough hand. His

mouth trailed down her neck and then further down until he could take a nipple in his mouth.

She arched up as he fondled her with his tongue, the sensations so intense they surprised her.
He caressed her until she was almost writhing, her hips moving restlessly, trying to seek some

sort of relief from the pulse of her desire.

“David,” she gasped, “This is getting torturous.” She pulled on his shoulders, trying to get him to

raise his head from her breast.

He was smiling, almost predatory, when he lifted his head to gaze down on her hotly.
She stuck out her tongue at him, the way she had when she was six and he and Brad wouldn’t let

her play with them.

His shoulders shook with laughter, but he leaned down to kiss her hard. “You shouldn’t tempt me

like that,” he said over her mouth. “Especially when you’re wearing those braids.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, breaking out of the kiss, her hand flying up to one of her long braids.

“Shit. I forgot I was wearing these stupid things.”

She pulled out the bands and started unbraiding her hair.
David laughed again. “I don’t mind—”
“I’m not having sex with my hair in braids.” She managed to get the braids undone as David used

the time to take off his sweatshirt and t-shirt.

The last time she’d seen his bare chest, he’d been nineteen. It had been impressive then, but it was

even better now.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes soft on her face as she finger-combed her hair free. “Braids

or not.”

She felt a little like melting, so she desperately searched for a witty response. Any sort of

response that might distract her from the look in his eyes.

She couldn’t think of anything.
So, when David kissed her again, his hand slipping under the waistband of her pajama pants, she

was feeling far too foolish and sappy.

She whimpered into his mouth when his fingers explored between her legs. He slipped one finger

and then two inside her.

It felt so good she pumped her hips against his hand.
“Are you ready?” he asked thickly, giving her a couple more soft kisses.
“Yes.” She arched up in pleasure and impatience as he stroked her hot, wet channel. “Please.”
He reached over for the condom while she shimmied out of her pants and underwear. Then she

helped him with his, reaching out eagerly for his erection when it was finally freed from the fabric.

“Fuck,” he breathed as she stroked him gently. “You’re going to kill me.”
“I’m definitely going to kill you if you don’t hurry up.”
He rolled on the condom and positioned himself between her legs. The fireplace was radiating

intense heat that she felt hotly on her bare skin.

To her surprise, as she felt him nudging at her entrance, David leaned down to kiss her again.
She responded, wrapping her arms around his neck, and then arching up instinctively as she felt

his hard length start to enter her.

He readjusted a few times as he slid inside her. She felt him so much—so deeply—she couldn’t

focus on the kiss, so she turned her head to the side with a jerk and panted.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice sounding as stretched as she felt.
“Yeah. It’s good. So good.” She moved her hips, feeling every inch of his penetration, and

moaned in pleasure as her nerve endings shattered with sensations.

When she started to pump her hips up toward his, he responded by beginning to thrust.
Their foreplay had been light and playful, so she was surprised when the sex was neither of those

things. Their motion was initially steady and pleasing. They moved together well, falling into a long-
remembered rhythm. Rachel bent her legs up around his hips for more leverage, although she was
limited because of the lingering ache of her ankle.

He would lean down and kiss her occasionally, like he couldn’t seem to help himself.
She couldn’t pull herself together. Every part of her was out of control. Her heart raced wildly,

her lungs gasped for air, her eyes blurred over occasionally as she couldn’t look away from David’s
heated, hungry gaze.

Everything felt so good, so right, so pleasurable that she couldn’t help moaning and whimpering

out silly sounds.

“David,” she gasped, her back coming off the couch as a jolt of pleasure surprised her. She fell

into an urgent, clumsy motion and clawed at the back of his shoulders.

“Rachel,” he grunted in response, his own thrusting intensifying to match hers. Then he kept

huffing out her name in time with his rhythm, making all of it even more agonizingly good.

She bit her lip hard as she felt an orgasm tighten. Then she let out her breath, gasped out his name,

her body shuddering helplessly with the ripples of intense pleasure.

He made a choked sound and held himself perfectly still as she tried to ride out the tremors of her

climax.

Her channel gripped him hard, and he finally let go, his tension releasing in a series of fast,

clumsy thrusts.

They both came down together, bodies hot, replete, and tangled together on the couch. She could

still hear him breathing her name, and she wanted to always hear him say it that way.

Like she was precious. Like he needed her more than his breath.
His elbows buckled, and he lowered his weight gently onto hers, burying his face in the crook of

her neck for a few moments.

She hugged him to her tightly, experiencing a ridiculous swell of pride at having given him this,

made him feel so much.

He lifted his head and gazed down on her. “Okay?”
She nodded, her throat aching oddly. “That was really good.”
“Good doesn’t begin to describe it.”
It hadn’t been wild or dirty or particularly creative, but it had been more than that, better than that.

The best sex of her life.

She shifted uncomfortably under his weight—trying to ignore a certain rising anxiety. “You should

take care of the condom.”

He heaved himself up reluctantly and pulled out of her, taking care with the condom. Then he went

to throw it away and wash up.

Feeling chilly again, now that she wasn’t pressed against David’s warm body, she reached down

to pull her pajamas back on. She was pulling the sweatshirt over her head when David returned.

She couldn’t help but leer at his naked body—his long flanks, strong muscles, and flat abdomen.

He pulled his sweatpants back on but not his shirt or sweatshirt, added another log to the fire, and got
back onto the couch with her.

He pulled her into his arms as she covered them both with the blanket.
She nestled against him. In the morning, she would have to deal with reality, but she couldn’t bear

to think about it tonight.

Not when everything felt so good, so right, so much like home.
“Rachel,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair.
“Hmm.” Her eyes were closed. The fire was warm and David was warm, and so she was warm

again too.

“Rachel.”
“Hmm.”
He didn’t say anything else. Maybe he’d decided she was almost asleep so conversation was

pretty much pointless.

Then she was asleep. So she wouldn’t have heard if he’d said anything else.

***

Rachel woke up a few hours later, feeling deliciously warm and a little cramped.
She blinked, trying to orient herself. The room was dark except for the light of the fire, which had

died down some.

David must have gotten up some time while she slept to stoke it and add another log, or it would

have died down a lot more.

Now David was beside her on the couch. Or, more accurately, he was behind her.
She was lying on her side, facing the fire, and he was spooning her, his arms wrapped around her,

holding her against him.

She shifted slightly and heard him clear his throat. She glanced over her shoulder to see that his

eyes were open.

“Hi.” She didn’t know what else to say.
It was still dark outside, although it sounded like the ice had stopped. There were still a few

hours until dawn.

She didn’t have to wake up to the real world yet.
“Hi,” he replied, a smile in his voice. “How’s your ankle?”
“It’s fine.” It was still hurting, but not as badly as it had earlier. She twisted it experimentally and

discovered she had slightly better range of motion.

She sighed and nestled back more snugly against his heat. In doing so, she felt something poking

into her butt.

“Uh,” she said, glancing back. “What are you doing with that?”
“Nothing at the moment.”
She wiggled her ass against his erection and smiled when she heard him groan in response.
“Was that an invitation?” he asked huskily.
“Not really,” she admitted. “I’m pretty comfortable. I’m not sure I want to take my clothes off

again.”

It was the truth. She felt warm and cozy and not really excited about shedding her pajamas.
He rolled over onto his back, turning her over until she was sprawled on top of him. He eased her

head down so he could kiss her. “I’m sure we can work around your pajamas, if we have to.”

She laughed and returned his kiss, sliding her fingers into his thick hair.
They kissed for a long time, leisurely, in a way that thrilled Rachel, even without the intensity of

arousal she’d experienced before.

Her body hummed pleasantly but didn’t feel particularly urgent or needy.
She still didn’t want to get naked again.
She was stroking his cheek as they kissed, enjoying the scratchy sound and feel of his bristles

against her skin, when she felt him rocking his pelvis up into her weight.

He was really hard. He was a lot farther gone than she was.
The knowledge gave her a different kind of thrill.
Feeling inspired, she pulled away from his mouth and kissed her way down his bare chest. She

liked the lean muscles and the light sprinkling of dark hair and the way his flat belly tapered down to
his sweats.

When she reached the fabric, she hooked her fingers around the waistband and pulled his pants

down, carefully maneuvering around the prominent obstacle of his erection.

“I thought you didn’t want to take your clothes off,” he said, that same smile still in his voice

despite how hoarse it was.

“I’m not planning to take my clothes off.” She took his hard flesh in both hands.
In answer to the question developing on his face, she leaned down and licked a line up his shaft.

He jerked, in surprise or pleasure or both.
“Rachel,” he breathed, reaching down for her and burying his fingers in her messy hair.
She smiled, feeling oddly pleased and possessive. Then she wrapped her mouth around him and

hollowed out her cheeks.

He stifled a groan, tightening his hands in her hair. “Rachel, you don’t have to—”
His words broke off as she applied more suction. He released another delicious, breathless

sound.

She knew he was liking it. She knew his body was responding to her attempts to please him. A

rush of excitement and pride overwhelmed her.

She held the base of his erection in one hand and used her mouth as skillfully as she could. She

wasn’t particularly expert at this activity, but it wasn’t her first time. To judge from his responses, she
must have been doing a pretty good job.

He’d reached up to grip the cushion of the couch with one hand, his fingers fisting into the fabric.

With his other hand he gently guided the motion of her head, helping her find the rhythm he wanted.

As the muscles of his thighs and belly tightened, he started to lose some of his control. His hips

rocked up toward her mouth in little thrusts, as if he couldn’t quite hold them still. Since the motion
wasn’t pushing or demanding—he wasn’t trying to fuck her throat—she didn’t get nervous.

He kept choking out her name, and she loved the way it sounded. Loved that it got thicker, more

breathless as she worked him up toward climax.

She rearranged her body and moved the hand she’d been using to grip his thigh until she could

delicately stroke his sac.

He clamped down on the cushion with one hand and fisted the other in her hair.
She knew he was about to come. Her blood coursed through her veins so wildly it caused a

roaring in her ears.

She sucked hard around his thick flesh and massaged his balls a little more firmly.
He came with a muffled exclamation, his back arching up from the couch as he let go.
She sucked and stroked him through the waves of his release, and she wiped her mouth with a

smile as she finally straightened up.

His body had gone completely limp, lying in a flushed, replete sprawl on the flannel sheet.
She’d never seen him like this before, and she couldn’t believe she had done it to him.
He found the energy to pull her down on top of him, and she stretched and wriggled against his big

body.

“Thank you,” he said, nuzzling her hair again, like he couldn’t quite find the focus to kiss.
“You’re welcome.” As she rubbed herself against him, she realized she was turned on more than

she’d realized, from nothing more than pleasuring him that way. It still wasn’t too intense, though, so
it didn’t spoil her satisfaction.

After a few minutes, she felt his breathing even out, and one of his hands started caressing her

lower back and bottom.

Since she took this as a sign that he’d recovered from his release, she lifted her head and grinned

down at him. “See. I didn’t have to take off my clothes.”

He huffed out a laugh and tightened his arms around her in a hug.
“Are you okay?” he asked when he loosened his arms.
“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m happy to—”
“I told you I didn’t want to take off my—”
“Do you really think I’m so uncreative that I can’t find a way to satisfy you without taking off your

clothes?” He actually sounded vaguely insulted.

“Well, I’m not sure—” She broke off with a quick inhalation when she felt his hand dip under her

waistband and slide down between her legs.

She was wet again, and he would be fully aware of that fact when he…
“Oh God!” she cried, clinging to his shoulders as he started to stroke her with his fingers.
It didn’t take long for his skillful hand to bring her to climax—and she gasped and shook on top of

him as the pleasure tightened and released deliciously.

“Oh, that was good,” she groaned as her body relaxed afterwards. “You’re certainly very handy.”
He choked on a laugh at her bad joke and pulled her up higher so he could kiss her.
He kept kissing her. And each kiss felt like a caress.
“You’re so incredible, Rachel,” he murmured between the kisses. “So sweet, so beautiful, so

generous, so brave.”

Emotion overwhelmed her, more powerful than her physical release. She wanted so much to hear

the words. Wanted so much to believe them.

But they were dangerous. Even before dawn, this was dangerous.
She snorted in an attempt to distract herself. “Brave? Despite how impressive your…attributes

are, it didn’t take that much courage for me to—”

He silenced her with another kiss, this one longer, lingering, breathtaking. “You’re the bravest

person I know, Rachel. You always have been.”

She didn’t understand why he would think that. She didn’t know why he seemed to believe it.
She didn’t understand any of this, and she desperately didn’t want it to end.
If it went on any longer, though, she would never recover from it.
Trying to find a compromise with herself—ending the really dangerous part but not ending the

night entirely—she settled into his embrace, ducking her head so he couldn’t kiss her anymore. ”Okay.
After that courageous effort, I’m tired again.”

He reached down and pulled the blanket over both of them. She felt him kiss her hair, and he

didn’t say anything else.

Five

Rachel woke up to a sudden chorus of clicking and beeping.
The power had come back on.
She blinked several times, trying to orient herself to the living room, which was light from the

emerging sunlight through the bay window and the lamp that had been left on across the room.

She was still on the couch. Still curled up in the bend of David’s body. His arms were still

wrapped around her.

Despite the fact that her ankle ached, her head was a little blurry, and one arm had lost circulation

from being trapped beneath her body, she felt at home there. She didn’t want to move.

She felt David shifting behind her, and she knew he had awakened too.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice thick from sleep. He nuzzled her neck, strangely intimate.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay.” She made herself pull out of his arms and sit up. She really needed to clear her head.

“My ankle is still sore, but I’m sure it will be fine.”

She felt him watching her as she stretched and blinked, and it made her decidedly nervous.
What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was she thinking? How could she have done this to

herself again?

She wasn’t seventeen anymore, but she was evidently just as stupid with her heart.
“I guess we should get up,” she said at last, since someone needed to say something. “If it’s

warmed up the way they were forecasting, then the roads might be clear and Mom and Brad will be
coming out.”

She almost choked at the thought of her mother and brother finding her and David like this,

knowing what she’d done last night.

That gave her enough incentive to stand up. She wobbled a bit, since her ankle was sorer than

she’d expected.

David got up immediately, but she was already stable again when he put a supporting arm around

her.

“I’m fine.” She tried not to jerk away from his touch in an automatic defensive instinct. “Just took

a minute to get my ankle to work.”

“You should try to stay off it as much as you can for the next few days.”
For a brief moment, she had a crystal-clear glimpse of a future with David. She could see herself

surrounded by his understated kindness, his dry laughter, his absolute commitment to taking care of
her. Even his obnoxious bossiness.

And she wanted it. She wanted it desperately.
Exactly as she’d wanted it when she was seventeen.
She sucked in a shaky breath and slipped out of the protection of his arm. “I’m going to take a

shower. You’re welcome to use the shower in Brad’s old room if you want.”

She limped out to the hallway, hiding her face behind her hair as much as she could so he

wouldn’t get a clear glimpse of her expression.

A few years ago, her grandfather had installed a new tankless water heater for the house, so the

water was almost immediately warm when she turned on the shower.

She didn’t start to cry until she stepped under the spray.

As she scrubbed David off her body, she sobbed as quietly as she could. It was exactly like it had

been before. A night full of passion, intimacy, even laughter, followed by David’s being as quiet and
considerate as he’d been just now.

The day after her first time with him she’d been ecstatic. She hadn’t been able to stop giggling and

hugging herself. She’d dreamed a lot of silly dreams about a wedding, a family, a life with David.

She hadn’t suspected for even a second that he would never call her again. That when she went

over to his house, nervous and bewildered after two days of no contact despite several attempts to
call and email him, he wouldn’t answer the door. That when she ran into him at her grandfather’s
dealership a few days later as he’d been dropping off Brad, David would act like he hadn’t even seen
her.

Her heart wasn’t going to be able to survive it again.
At least she didn’t still live in this town. She wouldn’t have to see him everywhere she went, hear

his name mentioned every day.

She could escape back to her little apartment and an anonymous city that didn’t know her, that

wouldn’t break her heart.

She gotten herself under control by the time she’d dried her hair and dressed in jeans and a soft

sweater. All she had to do was get through an hour or so until David left, and then she’d be all right.

She went downstairs and saw he was outside, backing his truck out of the ditch. He’d probably

sprinkled ice melt behind the tires so they wouldn’t spin on the remaining ice as he backed out.

She watched through the bay window as he walked back to the house, leaving his truck at the end

of the driveway.

He must have taken a shower before he put on the clothes he’d worn the day before. He looked

strong, rumpled, and handsome—still in need of a shave. His eyes were on the roof of the house, and
she assumed he was checking its condition.

She heard him enter through the side door and rustle in the mudroom, probably taking off his coat.
She didn’t move from her position at the bay window. She couldn’t move.
She felt him enter the room, but she didn’t turn around.
Then she felt his arms wrap around her middle and his big, warm body press into her back.
“Hi,” he said.
It felt so good. His voice sounded warm, fond, exactly as she wanted to hear it.
Exactly as he’d sounded after he’d fucked her eight years ago and then dumped her.
“So,” he continued slowly, tilting his head as if he were trying to see her face. “Last night was

really good.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was weak. No more than a breath. She was shaking helplessly inside, but her

body was frozen.

When she was twelve, she’d insisted on going on a hike up a mountain with Brad and David.

She’d missed a step and had to catch herself from falling, tearing a ligament in her shoulder in the
process. She hadn’t told them until she got home, making it through the hour remaining of the hike in
agonizing pain. She’d refused to admit she wasn’t as capable as the boys were.

She’d spent her whole life making sure no one thought she was weak and silly.
She might be crushed now but—just like last time—she wouldn’t let anyone know. She would at

least hold onto her pride.

She made herself smile and turn around.

David’s dark eyes were so deep and full. They seemed to be offering her so much. Everything.
Just as they’d seemed eight years ago.
Before he could say anything, she stretched up and gave him a light kiss on the side of his mouth.

“It was great. We’re really good in bed together.”

“I agree.” He tried to deepen the kiss.
She pulled away, holding onto the smile that was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “But

let’s not pretend it means anything more than the one night.”

He’d been reaching out for her again, but at her words he stopped. Froze. “What do you mean?”
There was something strange about his expression, but she was trying so hard to keep her casual

composure that she couldn’t even really see it. “Well, it was fun. But neither of us will be fooled into
thinking it was serious, so there’s no reason to go through the motions.”

He still hadn’t moved. “Rachel? I thought—”
She managed to give a somewhat convincing laugh, afraid he would know—afraid he already

knew—that she was absolutely crazy about him. “It was even better this time than last time. Maybe
eight years from now we can do it again. But I’m pretty happy with my life in Richmond so have no
worries about me hanging out here mooning over you.”

She’d meant the last sentence as a joke, and she thought she’d done a decent job with the teasing

inflection. But David didn’t laugh.

He didn’t say anything.
Rachel’s eyes were burning now. She had to end this conversation—get him out of the house—

soon. She turned to peer out the window. “How did the road look?”

He didn’t answer, so she glanced over her shoulder. “How did the road look?” she repeated. Her

voice sounded strange in her ears, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Fine,” he said at last. “It’s drivable now.”
“Good. You’re welcome to take off then, whenever you want. No need to hang around on my

account.” Since her voice broke on the last word, she covered it with a cough.

“I’ll stay until Brad and your mom get here.”
She limped over to the couch and started to gather up the blanket and flannel sheets so she could

throw them in the washer, still holding on to her fake smile. “No need. I’m a big girl, remember?
Self-sufficient.”

The reference to their conversation last night was torture, since she’d felt so close to David then.

It had felt so real. But she said it anyway, as a kind of self-punishment.

She’d been the one who was stupid, so she now had to pay the price.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” His voice was a little hoarse, but she barely noticed, so focused was she

on holding back the sobs tightening in her throat.

“I’m sure,” she managed to say. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. I hope you have a great Christmas.”
He didn’t answer, but she told herself her duty was done. She picked up the pile of sheets and

blanket and carried it into the laundry room off the kitchen.

She had to get away from him. Now.
She was at the washer when she heard him enter the kitchen. “Have a merry Christmas too,” he

called, his voice slightly muffled since he was walking as he spoke. “Take care.”

He left then, but she waited until he got to his truck and then disappeared down the county road

before she collapsed on the couch.

She jumped up like she’d been stung as she remembered what they’d done on the couch the night

before.

Instead, she sat down on one of the wing chairs and cried.

***

Fifteen minutes later, her phone rang. It was on the coffee table, so she had to get up to reach it.
She checked the caller ID and saw it was her brother.
She cleared her throat before she answered. “Hey, Brad.”
“What the hell did you do?” he demanded, without greeting or warning.
“What?”
“What the hell did you do to David?”
“What are you talking about?” She’d thought she was done crying for the moment, but her mind

still wasn’t working clearly. She blinked in bewilderment at the absolutely irrational question and his
angry tone.

“What the hell happened with David last night? I just talked to him.”
Her heart had been pounding, and now it seemed to lodge in her throat. “What did he tell you?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. Not a single thing. Just that he’d already left the house.”
“Then why are you asking—”
“Something happened. You did something to him. He sounded…he sounded broken.”
Familiar impatience with her brother’s unreasonable behavior clashed with utter confusion. “I

didn’t do anything to him, and I don’t appreciate your—”

“I don’t give a damn what you appreciate. How could you do this to him? Is it some sort of

payback? Use him and toss him away? I didn’t think you’d be so heartless.”

She almost choked. Nothing her brother said made any sense at all. “Heartless? Me? You’re

saying—”

“I’m saying that David doesn’t deserve this. I don’t care what you believe about him. He’s the

best guy in the world. And I’ve had to watch him brood over you for years. For years. He’s never
been able to get over you.”

She heard the words and thought she understood their meaning. But they didn’t hold together with

any basic coherency. She fell back onto the couch, since her knees weren’t holding her up.

She tried to respond, “I don’t understand—”
Brad didn’t let her finish the sentence. “It’s painful,” he continued, sounding as outraged and

angry as she’d ever heard him. “It’s just plain painful, to watch him hang on any random detail
someone mentions about you. To see him steer conversations so he can find out how you’re doing. It’s
painful, knowing you won’t even give him the time of day.”

She made a choking sound.
“And now you’ve gone and slept with him or something, and he’s never going to be able to get

over it. He doesn’t deserve this. I can’t believe you’ve gone and—”

“Stop it!” she broke in, half-sobbing and half-screaming at him. “Stop it! None of this makes any

sense. I didn’t do anything to him—now or back then. He dumped me. I loved him, and he dumped
me.”

Her nearly hysterical response seemed to pop the momentum of Brad’s tirade like a pin to a

balloon. He let out a loud whoosh of breath.

“He didn’t,” Brad said, sounding more exhausted than angry now. “Not really. You just never

knew what happened.”

Six

Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.
After a long stretch of silence, Brad asked, “You still there, Rach?”
She shook with emotion and confusion, and it was evident in her voice. “Tell me what the fuck

you’re talking about.”

Brad cleared his throat. “David never wanted to dump you back then. He was crazy about you.

Still is. He just didn’t have a choice.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he…” She trailed off, wiping tears from her face and trying to

force the world to make sense again.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you. I promised him.”
“You have to tell me,” she almost pleaded. “I have to know.”
When he still didn’t respond, she was on the edge of tears again. “Please tell me. You have to tell

me. This is my heart, Brad. It’s my heart.”

He let out another thick breath. “Okay. Fine. It was Grandpa.”
“What?”
“Grandpa found out about you and David. That summer, I mean.”
“But..” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think, even in the force of her chaotic emotion. “But

what would he do—”

“What do you think he did? He found David and told him he had to stop seeing you.”
“But David wouldn’t have listened. He didn’t care about what anyone thought. If he really cared

about me—”

“This is Grandpa we’re talking about, remember? I wasn’t just an empty warning or an idle threat.

He made sure David knew that, if he didn’t stop seeing you, he would bring David up on statutory
rape charges.”

“What?” she choked.
“You heard me. You were seventeen. He was nineteen. That’s technically against the law in

Virginia.”

“But the courts would never—”
“In this county? If Grandpa was the one pressing charges? You know better than that. David could

have gone to prison for a year and it would follow him the rest of his life. And that wasn’t even all.
You know those rumors about David’s mom? Well, Grandpa threatened to—”

“Oh God,” Rachel breathed.
“Maybe if he was the only one threatened, he would have risked it. But you don’t expect him to

make his mother go through that as well, just so he could keep dating—”

“No, of course not! But I can’t believe Grandpa would have done that.”
“You know Grandpa as well as I do. He could be great sometimes, but sometimes he was just a

bastard. I swear he did it. You were his princess, and he didn’t want David anywhere close to you.”

She was silent for a long time, trying to process this truth, this explanation that rewrote the whole

story of her life. “So he…he didn’t want to dump me like that?”

“Want to? Listen to me, it killed him. It tore him up. But what else could he have done.”
“Why didn’t he just tell me? I would have understood—I really would have understood. And I

wouldn’t have had to hate him all this time.”

“Part of Grandpa’s terms was that no one could know—especially you.”
“How did you find out?”
“He wasn’t going to tell me either. I went over there to…well, to beat him up for how he’d

treated you.” Brad sounded as awkward about this confession as if he’d committed a guilty sin.
“Because of how he acted, I figured out something else must be going on, so I wouldn’t leave until he
told me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? All this time, you’ve known what I thought, and you haven’t bothered to

tell me—”

“I told you before. I promised David I’d never tell you. I shouldn’t have told you now.”
“Yes, you should have.” She was still confused, overwhelmed, and far too emotional—but

something like hope had sprung to life inside her. “But I still don’t understand. I’ve been a legal age
for years now—we could have had a relationship and no one could stop us. David’s mom is dead,
and Grandpa’s been dead more than a year. Why couldn’t he have told me himself, if he was still
interested…interested in…” She trailed off.

“It’s your own fault, you little idiot. You put on such a good show of not caring that he believed

it.”

The whole world seemed to freeze. “What?”
“He believed it. He thought you didn’t care that much about him, that it hadn’t been serious for

you—especially after you started going out with guys all the time your senior year. He thought you’d
been fine in ending things with him.”

“I wasn’t fine,” she rasped. “I was…heart-broken.”
“But you never let him see that. You never let me see it either, by the way. I knew it bothered you

more than you said, but I didn’t know how much. What were we supposed to think?”

It was too much. Just too, too much. She couldn’t begin to process it.
“I’ve got to go,” Brad said in a different voice. “Mom’s coming down. We’ll be there in a little

while. I’d suggest that, if there’s any way you can fix this, you try.”

He hung up then, and Rachel just sat on the couch, staring down at the silent phone in her hand.
She was so dazed that she didn’t even hear a car pull up the drive. And she barely processed the

sound of the side door opening and someone moving through the kitchen and into the living room.

She blinked when she saw David stride toward the couch, looking intent, determined, and

simmering with nameless emotion.

He leaned over and pulled her to her feet. Then he cupped her face with both calloused hands. “I

have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me,” he told her, almost roughly.

She blinked at him again, excitement and something deeper rising in her chest like a flood. She

opened her mouth.

“No,” he continued, as if he needed to keep her from saying words her throat was incapable of

articulating. “You’re going to listen to me right now. What happened last night was not casual. It
wasn’t just physical. I don’t care what you’re trying to make yourself believe, but it wasn’t. There’s
something real between us. There’s always been something real. I know I blew it when we were
teenagers, but you don’t know the whole story with that. I can’t explain it to you, but I never wanted to
stop seeing you back then. I never wanted to not be with you. What we had then was real, and what
we have now is real too. And I’m not going to just give up on it because you’re trying to run away.”

She gaped at him, rather stupidly. Her mind and heart and body were all a whirl of feeling.

“I should have said something before, but I didn’t think I mattered to you anymore. But after last

night…I do matter to you, and you’re not going to make me believe otherwise. Maybe I pretend to be
completely self-sufficient, and maybe you pretend to be invincible. But neither of those things is true.
I need you, Rachel. And—you might not want to admit it—but you need me too.”

Something about his hoarse, earnest declaration broke through the stupor in her mind. She gasped

out, “You need me?”

He’d been gripping her upper-arms, as if she might try to slip away, but now he moved his hands

back up to her face again. “I need you. I want you. I’m just no good without you. I’ve wanted to be
with you for most of my life, and that’s never going to change. Can you please at least consider the
possibility?”

She opened her mouth one more time, but the words were trapped in her throat. Her vision was

blurry with tears, which she tried to blink away, since she wanted to keep seeing David’s hungry,
tender eyes.

“You can talk now,” he murmured, with an irresistible twitch of his mouth. “I’ve said my piece.”
A bubble of amusement burst, and she threw herself against his chest. “I need you too. I want you

too.”

With a rough groan, he wrapped her in his arms, hugging her so tightly her ribs hurt.
“Oh, thank God,” she heard him murmur against her hair.
She was smiling as she finally pulled away, happiness flooding her heart, her expression. “I

talked to Brad just now. He told me.”

David lowered his brows, despite the fact that he was clearly spilling over with the same feeling

she was. “He told you what?”

“He told me what happened. About Grandpa. And everything.”
“He shouldn’t have told you. He promised.”
“I bullied him into it.” She reached up to stroke his bristly jaw. “I needed to know. You broke my

heart. I needed to know why.”

The lines in his forehead became deeper. “I broke your heart?”
“Of course, you did. I was…I was crazy about you, and I thought you’d treated me like dirt. I just

couldn’t forgive you. I couldn’t get over it.”

“I didn’t know.” He pulled her into a one-armed hug, holding her against his chest. “I’m so sorry.

I didn’t know. It killed me. I was wreck, but you seemed to get over it so quickly. So I kept telling
myself it was just as well, since you obviously weren’t serious about me.”

“I didn’t get over it quickly,” she admitted, her mouth muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t get over it at

all.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “Just give me a chance, and I’ll show you how much you

mean to me, how incredibly precious you are to me.”

“As long as you give me a chance too.”
He leaned down to kiss her—deeper and more ardently than even last night. She responded, trying

to show him through her eagerness, her responsiveness how deeply she felt about him.

Despite the fact that she was still half-crying, it was a pretty good kiss. It was about to overwhelm

her when she accidently put weight on her ankle.

She jerked and gave a little cry at the jolt of pain. She had to cling to David’s shirt to steady

herself.

The kiss broken, he reached out to support her. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Pretty good.” She was grinning. Couldn’t seem to stop.
“Me too.”
“So…so what now?” she asked. The spiral of emotions was finally leveling off, leaving as many

questions as answers.

“I guess Brad and your mom will show up soo—”
“I meant what now with us, you idiot.” There was no way he could miss the soft affection in her

eyes.

His face softened too. “I guess we should maybe start with a date. Do you happen to be free

Saturday night?”

She snickered. “Yes. I can probably fit you. But why wait so long? Why don’t you join us for

Christmas Eve tonight?”

His eyes were dark and rich and mesmerizing. “That’s a family thing, isn’t it?”
“You’ve always been almost family, and I’m inviting you.”
“Then I accept, but I’m still taking you out on Saturday night.”
She stretched up to kiss him, so that distracted them for a minute. As they were pulling away, she

said, “Two dates in one week. My social life is picking up. I’ll have to reorganize all of my other
boyfriends to make room for you.”

She was joking, and he evidently knew it. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and gently wiped one

tear from her skin with his thumb.

“You better not tell me the names of those other boyfriends or their cars and houses will be

suddenly struck with a deluge of inexplicable catastrophes.”

She giggled helplessly.
“You understand, don’t you?” David continued, his expression and tone growing sober. “I’m not

going to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for, but I don’t just want to date you. I don’t want
you to date anyone else. I’m serious about this. I’m serious about you.”

She reached up to grab his face the way he’d grabbed hers. “I’m serious about you too. I don’t

want to see anyone but you.”

“Really? I was trying not to scare you by moving too fast. I know we’ve just had the one night.”
She gave a huff of objection. “One night? I’ve been crazy about you since I was ten years old.”
He smiled. “That’s good to know. I know we’ll have to work a lot out, with us living in different

parts of the state. But I’ll do whatever I need to do to make it work.”

“Me too.”
“I just want you to know—if you want to stay in Richmond, I’d even be willing to move. I know

that’s in the future. I’m not trying to scare you.”

She actually laughed at the idea of her being scared by his passionate sincerity. She thought she

might melt away in pure joy.

“I’m not sure I’ll want to live in Richmond the rest of my life, but that’s something we can figure

out down the road. But, seriously, David, nothing you say is going to scare me.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. It was the sweetest thing. “So if I said I love

you…”

“I’d say I love you too.”
He stifled a moan of joy or pleasure or exhaustion or relief, and then he pulled her into another

kiss.

They were just getting into it when Rachel heard a car turn into the long driveway.
They pulled apart, almost sheepishly, and were standing together in the living room when

Rachel’s mother walked in.

“There you are. Are you all right, baby? You’ve been crying. And what happened to your ankle?”
“I just twisted it,” Rachel explained, returning her mother’s hug and kiss.
“Sprained it,” David corrected.
“Twisted it.” She slanted him an annoyed glance at his interference, but he looked so adorably

rumpled with his hair sticking out in all directions—and he looked so transformed with what could
only be happiness—that she couldn’t hold onto her annoyance for more than a couple of seconds.

Instinctively, she reached out to put a hand on his chest—wanting to touch him, to know he was

hers. He pulled her to his side, sliding one arm around her.

Rachel’s mother didn’t appear even remotely surprised by their sudden closeness.
“It’s good to see you too, dear, although I’d advise you to shave just as soon as you can. And

thank you for helping Rachel out in the storm.” She reached up to give David a sound kiss on the
cheek. “Now that you’ve gotten things worked out between you, do you think that you might be able to
convince her to move home soon?”

“Mom!” Rachel wailed.
Brad laughed from the doorway of the room.
David laughed too. “We can talk about it. It will be up to her, but I’ll at least give her options.”
Rachel smiled at David rather sappily.
“Well, baby,” her mother said, turning her attention back to Rachel, “I was talking to Missy

Roberson—you know she owns the gift shop in town. That place is the shambles. I’ve never seen so
many tacky, useless items assembled in one place. But she’s going to be moving to North Carolina to
live with her daughter.”

Rachel frowned, trying to keep up with her mother’s rambles, which were often difficult to

follow.

“Anyway,” her mother continued, “I suggested to Missy that you should take over the business.

You could do flowers like you’ve always wanted and combine it with the gift shop. Maybe showcase
local art. Lots of people come through looking for antiques and country cooking. David could sell his
furniture and you could—“

“Mom,” Rachel interrupted. “Let’s not get carried away.”
Her mother leaned over to kiss her cheek again. “Okay. Just think about it. Now Brad’s shower

was just not up to par, so I desperately need another shower and to get out of these clothes before I
start to get ready for tonight. You need to sit down and elevate your ankle.” She patted David’s chest.
“David, dear, you’re joining us this evening, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be there.”
While her mother bustled out of the room, Brad came in all the way.
“Sorry, man,” he said, stretching his hand out to David. “I know I promised not to say anything.

But she wouldn’t stop crying, and there’s only so much of that a man can take.”

“Brad!” Rachel exclaimed, much as she had reproached her mother earlier. She looked up at

David. “I wasn’t crying.”

David chuckled. “Not even a little bit?”

“Well, maybe a little. But not when I was talking to Brad.”
“You didn’t cry when he accidentally locked you in that closet either and then couldn’t get the

door opened for hours.”

Rachel shuddered at that horrible memory from when she was nine years old.
David leaned down and said against her ear, “I thought you were the bravest girl I’d ever known.

That might have been the day I realized there was no other girl for me.”

There was no other man for Rachel. That much had always been true. And she still couldn’t wrap

her mind around the fact that David was actually hers.

But he was. She knew it because he had told her, and she knew it because she could see the truth

in his eyes.

The story of her life had been retold—truth casting light onto all of the shadows and melting all of

the ice.

And it had happened in only one night.

About the Author

Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and

she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in
Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a
very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in

graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary
romances. For more information, please check out her website: noelle-adams.com