In the Firelight Read online

  Rhys nodded slightly, letting her know he fully understood her warning. “Well, that, um… is wise, I guess. Living out here alone.” Something else Shea had said caught his attention. “Wait, when you moved away?”

  “I was married once, very young… too young. He was here working for the summer with the Forest Service. I thought I was in love and saw a way to get out of town, so, when he left, I left with him.”

  “If you married him to get out of town, how’d you end up back here?”

  “It all fell apart pretty quickly. It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.” Shea paused, taking a sip of her tea. “Then my grampa got sick. I came home to be with him. I was only here four days before he went into cardiac arrest in the grocery store. Just like that, he was gone.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rhys murmured the expected platitude, slightly surprised at the actual tiny pull on his heart. Since when did he even have a heart? The unwanted thought annoyed him, as did the simple truth that he felt anything at all. He wasn’t supposed to feel, and he again steeled himself to remain distant, cold, calculating.

  Shea shrugged. “Then it was like I just couldn’t leave. Like he had brought me back here to find something, to learn something. I don’t know. So, after the divorce was final… I stayed. I sold his house in town.” She looked around the cozy little space. “This was his cabin. It was kind of like my summer camp when I was a kid.”

  “Did you spend a lot of time out here when you were younger?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded with a faraway expression on her lovely face. “Gram didn’t really like it up here so much. She had her sewing circles and bridge clubs in town. She was much more social than Gramps or I. But he and I practically lived up here during the summers. We liked to be back in the mountains—hiking, fishing.”

  “What about your parents?”

  Shea paused slightly before answering. “I barely remember them. They died in a car wreck when I was really little. Gram and Gramps were my only real family, so I came to Snowcreek to live with them.”

  “So your grandmother’s gone, too?”

  “She died not long after I got out of high school, right after I ran off to get married, actually.” Shea turned her gaze back to him, directly looking at him with a slight challenge in her eyes. “So, yes… I’m alone. Just me and Wolfie.”

  Rhys was speechless for a moment, captivated by the independent look in her eyes. The tough exterior wrapped around such a small, and quite delicious, little package. He contemplated his next words carefully, wondering just what to say. How to gain her confidence. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met.

  All women wanted someone. Even the man-haters really, deep down inside, wanted someone to love. To be loved by someone. They were jaded and angry over past wrongs, but, given the right encouragement and some soft, alluring words, they would come around. The right combination of charisma and his sexy smile, and he’d put it all to the test often enough to know that few women could resist his charm and appeal.

  But this one didn’t seem to fall under his spell. Somehow, he had to find a crack in her steeled defense, a way to get inside her mind. It was what he did. The only thing he was ever really, really good at. Finally, he spoke.

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?” he asked softly, pasting on a look of genuine concern.

  Shea furrowed her brow and looked back at the fire. “Having people around all the time is overrated. It just makes demands of a person that I’m okay doing without. I like solitude. I have friends, a few people I’ve known since high school. Most of them are married with children, but…” she trailed off with a soft chuckle. “My best friend is this crazy kiwi I met my senior year.”

  “Kiwi?”

  “She’s from New Zealand. Came here as a foreign exchange student. Fell in love. In this rash, romantic gesture, she ran off and got married before she got sent back home. Her parents were horrified, but there wasn’t much they could do at that point. Fortunately, she chose more wisely than I did. Her marriage is still going strong.” Shea laughed quietly. “And, whenever I start feeling the need for a normal life with a family, I go to her place for a bit. Within thirty minutes of watching her kids hanging from the rafters, I remember why I live alone.”

  Rhys stared thoughtfully into his mug. She was really different. A bit of a challenge. She wasn’t on the hunt for a man to make her feel complete. She wasn’t falling all over him and giggling incessantly, gazing into his eyes to try and lure him in. It was kind of nice, actually, to just sit and talk to a woman without the underlying concern that she was trying to work a ring out of him. At the same time, this made it a little more difficult for him to get his job done. How do you romance someone who has no desire to be romanced?

  Shea yawned heartily, stretching her arms up over her head. For a moment, Rhys’ mouth went dry as we watched the curve of her breast jut out with the arch of her back.

  Fuck.

  “Well,” she murmured, standing and pulling a heavy quilt from the back of the couch behind her, “there’s a ton of throw pillows, and here’s a nice heavy quilt. You may not need it just yet with the fire blazing high like it is, but it will cool off a bit as it dies down. I’m going to go to bed.”

  With those words, as she moved to hand him the blanket, Wolfie’s head rose and he looked dead on at Rhys. Rhys could swear there was a warning in the dog’s eyes. The behemoth animal stood to follow Shea to the stairs, looking back a Rhys to ensure he was staying put.

  “If you need anything, holler,” Shea said as she began to climb the stairs. “The loft is open, so I’ll be able to hear you.”

  Wolfie watched Shea climb to the upper level, then looked back over at Rhys. After a moment, the enormous dog lay on the thick rug at the base of the stairs, effectively blocking any access to his person.

  Smart dog.

  Rhys set his cup on a sofa table that ran along the back of the couch and turned back to rest his head on the large, soft pillows. Pillow that smelled fresh and clean, crisp, and ever-so-slightly of… Shea. Funny how he associated the scent with her already.

  He gazed into the fire, watching the flames lick and caress the wood, watching the glow of the embers wax and wane. This woman was a bit of an enigma. She was a smart one. She seemed incredibly independent, and happy to keep it that way. So different from anyone he’d ever met.

  She’d be one hell of a challenge.

  As Rhys closed his eyes, he saw those stunning hazel eyes, those full lips, that long tumble of dark, coppery curls, and, last but not least, that tight little body that made his fingers itch to touch her.

  And he smiled.

  It had been a long time since he’d felt challenged by a woman. He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 3 ~ The Guest

  Shea lay in her bed, unable to sleep, watching the minutes tick by. She wasn’t used to having another person in her house. Knowing Wolfie lay at the bottom of the stairs helped with the security of it, so she wasn’t so much worried about him being a serial killer. Or a rapist. Not that he’d really be interested in a tomboy like her anyway.

  The sounds of the night were different, though, having him here.

  She could hear the rustle of blankets as he shifted, and her mind pictured him lying down on the couch, that large, rugged build sprawled out in the warm glow of the fire. She wondered for a moment if he was still fully clothed or if he had removed some clothing to get more comfortable.

  Her breath caught at the mental picture of him with his chest bare. She had noticed a light sprinkling of hair at the opening of his soft flannel shirt, and she closed her eyes to clarify the image in her mind. His chest was broad, appeared thick with firm pectorals and strong arms. His waist tapered down to slim hips, and, seriously, the man had a fine ass in those jeans he was wearing. Not to mention those strong thighs. His height and build made her feel totally dainty and… actually kind of girly.

  Shea hadn’t felt girly in years. She hadn’t wanted to. She still didn’t want to.

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nbsp; A little time passed, and she heard his soft, heavy breathing. Not quite a snore, but what sounded like a deep sleep. Her mind wandered again to imagine his expression softened with sleep. The way he had looked at her earlier was imprinted in her psyche, the heated attraction in his hooded eyes. It had set a fire in her belly, a fierce burn that began to bloom into a deep ache. Lying on her back in her bed, her fingers ran down her waist, caressing the soft flannel of her nightshirt as it rode up in the warm bed. Down to her hip, her fingertips grazed the line of her panties.

  She closed her eyes and once again saw the deep blue of his. There had been desire there, she was sure of it. She read it easily on his expression.

  Her fingers dipped inside the silky fabric, lightly brushing against the sensitive mound of flesh, then down to the dampness that pooled low in her belly.

  This was crazy. He was right there, without so much as a wall between them. She shouldn’t be doing this.

  But her fingers began to move of their own volition through wet arousal, to tease her clit lightly, moving more firmly as the ache began to spread. Her muscles began to tighten and heat began to pulse through her.

  His eyes…

  How would it feel if he kissed her? What expression would light his eyes when he pulled away?

  Shea’s tongue darted out to lick her lips as she imagined his kiss… firm, crushing.

  The first flutters of her orgasm began to crest, she heard a shift in the blankets below, and froze. Afraid to breath with her heart pounding.

  Oh, God. What was she doing?

  A moment later, the steady, deep breathing sound of sleep resumed. Knowing it was wrong, knowing the last thing she should do was continue but completely unable to stop herself, her hand shamefully began to move again.

  Her fingers swept through her wet core, firmly massaging the tightness, rubbing against the building need. In her mind, it was his tongue, swiping through her, tasting her. A faint gasp emanated from her throat as she drew the wetness to her clit and began to trace small circles around sensitive little bud. She pinched lightly and then pressed harder as she thought of his large strong hands, his powerful arms, his broad chest.

  Struggling to stay quiet, her breath grew choppy, her muscles tensed. She could feel the pressure building, she was so close to the heavenly escape. And then, her orgasm blasted through her. She was completely unable to keep a small moan from escaping as she fought to quiet her labored breathing.

  As she floated back down to earth, she became rather mortified by what she had just done. It was one thing to do this in private, but to get herself off with him only separated by about twenty feet, and thinking about him, too. She was insane.

  Oh, sweet Jesus… she hoped he had actually been sleeping, that he had slept through it. In the quiet of the night, the sounds could have carried. Hopefully, the light snore she heard from below was an indicator that he hadn’t heard her. That he was far away in dreamland.

  Shea’s stomach growled slightly. Damn… she hadn’t eaten dinner. Leaving town late, she’d planned to heat some leftovers, but, with all the disarray of finding Rhys in the snow, she had forgotten to eat. But, in spite of that, she didn’t want to go down there, where he was. Shea rolled to her side, trying to fade off to sleep, however, the hunger pains were soon too much to bear.

  Fuck it. She had to get something to eat.

  Quietly, she padded down the heavy log stairs. Wolfie raised his head as she passed, watchful as always. Shea slipped quietly into the kitchen, using the low light above the stove to find a container of huckleberry muffins. The sound of the container opening and the waft of the muffiny aroma drew Wolfie closer. For a moment, Shea froze at the tapping of his toenails crossing the wood floor of the kitchen. She held her breath, listening for a moment, relaxing a bit as she heard the deep breathing coming from the couch.

  Dropping a bit of muffin on the floor for Wolfie, she reached into the cupboard to pull out a small glass, then crossed to the refrigerator to pour some milk. The light from the fridge cast her shadow into the living room. A rustle of the heavy quilt, and Rhys’ head appeared over the back of the couch looking at her in the kitchen.

  Shit!

  Closing the fridge, Shea murmured, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’ll be done in a minute, and you can go back to sleep.”

  “It’s okay,” he mumbled sleepily. “I’ve actually been awake for a little bit. Having a hard time sleeping.”

  Oh shit… had he heard her?

  “I, um… forgot to eat dinner, and I was starving,” she quietly stammered. “Are you hungry at all?”

  “Fine, thanks. I ate a big old gutbuster at the steakhouse before I headed out of town.”

  Shea grabbed her muffin and milk and walked into the light of the fireplace to sit on the opposite end of the couch. She tucked her legs beneath her in the flannel of the voluminous knee-length nightshirt. As she took a bite of her muffin and looked over at him… and gaped.

  Rhys had removed his shirt, she realized with a heavy swallow, fighting to get the bit of muffin down her throat. And he really was incredibly fucking gorgeous.

  The blanket she had given him was low on his hips, showcasing a fine display of muscles before her. A shadowing of dark hair seemed to enhance the tight cut of his pecs and abs. His heavy, strong arm lay along his side, his hand lying on his hip.

  For a moment, Shea froze. Unable to swallow. Unable to breath. Her mind flitted back to what she had been doing, what he may have quite possibly heard her doing, up in her loft bed only a short time before, thinking of his bare chest. Her imagination, as good as it was, hadn’t done him justice.

  The pull was so strong, the desire to run her fingers across his skin, through the coarse hair and over the defined muscles. Both her and Gavin, her short-term husband, had been fairly young when they had married, and he was in no way near the masculine specimen she saw before her. Thin and wiry, he’d been the only man she’d ever been with. Their love life had been one of learning, trial and mostly error, and short-lived at that.

  Shea had read trashy romance novels and dreamed occasionally of a large Superman-like figure to rush in and ravish her, but this was the first time she had ever felt a tug like this—this strong—to a real life, hot-blooded man. The ache she had alleviated earlier returned with a vengeance. A throbbing, fiery need that coursed throughout her body causing her to physically squirm at the sensation.

  Of their own accord, her eyes traveled down his waist, seeing a glimpse of denim peeking above the blanket that had settled at his hips. Oh, thank God. He was still wearing his jeans. As much as he was affecting her, she didn’t think she could trust herself had he removed them. As it was, she was fighting the urge to straddle him and scatter kisses across his chest, to feel his powerful body between her thighs.

  Tearing her hungry eyes away, she looked down into her glass of milk, taking a sip. The quiet in the room seemed a bit painful, and she could barely stand it. She turned her attention to Wolfie, who had come to sit before her, and fed him a few more bites of muffin. She hadn’t eaten much, but her stomach wasn’t growling anymore and, quite honestly, she wasn’t sure if she could swallow anything solid. She’d be safer to stick with the milk at this point.

  A motion from Rhys drew her eyes back over to him, and she watched as he scrubbed his face with his hands, clearing the sleep from his eyes. In the low firelight, she was hypnotized by the play of his powerful muscles as he moved.

  Needing to direct her attention somewhere else and doing everything in her power to keep her voice from shaking, Shea asked, “So, how long are you in town for?”

  Rhys lifted his gaze to hers as he stretched slightly on the couch, rolling to his side and leaning his head on his elbow. “About a week… maybe two. Not sure, really…”

  Shea finished her milk, setting the glass on the table at the end of the couch. She stood to grab a piece of firewood, placing it in the fire. “Well, you picked a beautiful, if not a little bit co
mplicated, time of year for a visit. We tend to get a big dump of snow about this time.” She reached for the poker, moving the logs around a little to encourage the new wood to catch the flame.

  “Yeah… it’s been a while since I’ve been in the mountains and out of the city. I sort of figured it would be like riding a bike, but it’s easy to forget things… like how quickly it gets dark.”

  “The mountains are beautifully dangerous…” Shea murmured softly. “Where are you from?”

  “I grew up here in Montana, actually. Near Frenchtown. My dad still lives there. I went off to college in Indiana, and I loved the big city. It was so different from what I was used to.”

  “Do you come back very often?”

  “Not really. I’m usually pretty busy with work. Every couple years, I suppose. To see my dad, listen to him complain about my lack of stability since I don’t have a wife and kids like my older brother.”

  “It can be hard when you don’t fit the mold,” Shea said distantly. “I always tried, but I guess I never exactly knew what mold was supposed to fit me.” Suddenly, Shea felt vulnerable, as though she had let something slip. Something about herself that she’d rather keep hidden. “Well, the tryptophan in my milk is kicking in, making me a little drowsy, so I’m going to try and get some sleep.” She rose and headed back towards the stairs to the loft, Wolfie again at her heels. “Goodnight…” she murmured.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart,” Rhys said back, and the husky sound of his endearment registered in her brain, shooting a shiver of wanting through her body. She looked back at him, guarded and almost fearful, before she finally escaped up the stairs to the safety of her bed.

  As usual, Shea woke early, well before it was light. She quickly dressed in her faded jeans and a thick sweater on over the top. Wolfie waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, her sentry in the night, ready to go outside to explore. At the doorway, Shea slipped on her heavy snow boots, warm from the boot dryer, a pair of gloves, and her heavy Carhartt coat. Then she headed outside.