Hers to Choose (Cannon Cousins) (26 page)

She poked at her eggs.
“Sure. It’ll do me good to get out of this house for a few hours.” Maybe that
was exactly what she needed.

“Do you want to do gifts
now, or after we go out?”

“Maybe
later?
I’m baking
a hen, with cornbread dressing and cranberry-apple relish—kind of a Christmas
dinner thing. So that would be a good time.”

“Umm.
Sounds absolutely
incredible.
Can’t wait.
Can I peek at my gift?”
He grinned.

A sharp pain creased her
chest. For a moment, she saw how he must have looked as a little boy. “No! No
peeking.”

“I used to peek—Dan and I
would get up in the wee hours and sneak down to the tree. We got really good at
pulling tape so it didn’t tear and then sticking it back down.” A laugh rumbled
in his throat, sending chills down her spine.

“I bet you guys were a
handful.”

“Yep, we were.”

***

Their boots slipped in the mud as
they climbed downslope from the road. A light rain had set in for the day. She
wore her old cowboy hat and a beat up leather jacket. He had a battered Aussie
hat and a slicker. While she scrambled over the steep part, he held her hand,
sending shocks through her body like a live wire. The land flattened out
several yards from the road and ran north on a wide bench before dropping again
along a rocky slope.

At every turn he
commented on the land, the huge old oaks and thickets of cedar, the slabs of
limestone spread with mosaics of lime green and white lichens. Wetness
intensified the colors so that even fallen autumn leaves were reborn in faded
copper, bronze, and magenta. They were walking parallel to the road, the strip
he had declared best suited to his plans after reviewing her survey.

“This is an absolute gold
mine,” he muttered under his breath, tromping through the underbrush on their
excursion westward.

And she agreed with his
decision. A section of land would be left as a barrier near the house so that
new neighbors would be invisible and out of earshot to her. She waited while he
paced off a line with long steps, counting to himself before climbing back
toward her through the branches of sumac and evergreen briars. Periodically he
stopped and took photos.

“Of course I’ll have to
get this surveyed and figure out where the water line runs before I can
finalize any site plans. Do you know if there are natural gas lines?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cable,
anything but water that might be along this utility easement?”

“I have no idea.” She
felt ignorant. This was her land, she should know these things.

“That’s going to be your
first assignment, Miss McClure,” he said in a half-joking tone. “Find out about
easements. Do you have your notepad?”

“You didn’t tell me to
bring one,” she retorted defensively. Now she really felt stupid.

“I’m kidding,” he
laughed, taking her elbow and steering her further along.

Her jeans were wet from
brushing through the weeds and bushes and if she had any sense she would have
worn long johns. The idea of Alex leaving this huge undertaking in her
supervision overwhelmed her. What if she screwed up? What if she simply was not
capable of doing anything right?

Still, the land
exhilarated her and inspired her, and she had been right to think that getting
out of the house would do her good. At every turn another beautiful or amazing
feature caught her attention. Alex continued to remark on the richness of the
vista. Squirrels threw acorns on their heads. A small group of deer scattered
and ran, their white tails flagged up and disappearing into thickets of gray
forest. Natural glades opened around ancient springs. She had no idea all this
was here.

Rain intensified. Water
dripped off their hats. Their footsteps left deep prints in the ground. Scent
of disturbed earth and decaying leaves rose up in the moisture. Crows called in
the distance. If she had ever understood the true wealth of this land, she had
forgotten it.

“I could never have
thanked my grandfather enough,” she told Alex as they hiked back to the house
on the road shoulder. Rain splattered on them from the pavement. “He knew what
he had, but I didn’t. I walked some of it, you know.
Spent
lots of time here as a kid.
But there’s so much I haven’t seen.”

“Are you still okay with
the idea of letting go of that strip?”

“Yes,” she said finally
as they paced down the roadway. “I couldn’t have imagined a better idea.”

They hurried to the porch
and left their muddy boots before going inside. Her jeans clung to her legs.
She took off the hat and jacket and shivered. The fire had died down and the
house felt cold.

“Are you chilled?” he
asked, his forehead knitted in concern.

She managed a little
laugh. “I didn’t think to wear long johns. My legs are cold.”

“Damn it, Bryn, why
didn’t you tell me a long time ago?”

“I wanted to see it, I
loved being out there.” She shivered again and clasped her arms around her middle.
“But I’ve got to get in a hot shower.”

She closed the bathroom
door and peeled the soaked pants down her legs. Her skin had mottled with
bluish patches. The wet end of her ponytail dragged across her shoulders as she
ripped off her underwear. The hot water slowly brought warmth back to her body.
For a long time, she let the water soothe her, fantasizing that he might join
her at any minute. Then she realized he might want a shower of his own.

A brisk toweling off brought
a pink glow to her skin. She re-fastened her half-wet ponytail and then stopped
in her tracks. Not one article of underwear or clothing awaited her—everything
remained in her bedroom and the bedroom door stood open. If he saw her in
nothing but a towel, he’d think she was throwing herself at him. He had clearly
declared a committed relationship with someone else. But then, she was assuming
he waited anywhere near her bedroom. Most likely, he had made himself
comfortable at the couch.

She wrapped the big towel
around her and peeked out of the bedroom. He looked up from the side of the
bed, where he sat in his boxers, t-shirt and socks. Shit.

His
thighs, his arms.
Everything she had tried to suppress came surging to the surface in an
immediate flash of heat. Her chest heaved.

“Sorry,” she stammered,
“my clothes...”

“Oh, I’m sorry, this is
your space.” He jumped from the bed and went to the door.

She hurried to her chest
and pulled out a drawer, then realized he had stopped at the doorway with his
gaze searing over her body. Her hands dropped from the drawer and grabbed at
the towel, which had started to loosen and droop. A fast reprieve kept it from
slipping off completely. She closed her eyes and forced herself to grab panties
and a bra.

The heat of his body
impacted her back. His hands came around her, holding the towel and pressing it
against her breasts. His lips glanced along the tops of her shoulders. She felt
his hard cock brushing through his boxers against the flesh of her buttocks.

“Umm,” a groan rumbled
deep in his throat.

She turned and put her
arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his mouth. Her body flamed in
the contact, and her own soft moan emerged from low in her throat. His hands
spread down her sides and over her buttocks, and the hot head of his cock
strained against her belly. In seconds, juices had flooded her crotch. She was
ready, so ready. Why did he hesitate?

“Oh, god, Alex, I didn’t
mean…” she pulled back, agonized and suddenly shaking. What was she doing? He
had been clear, there was someone else. He moved back slightly. His face had a
slightly bruised look. Damn it, she had done what she swore she would not do.
She yanked the towel firmly around her.

“No, I’m completely out
of line...” He stepped back further, holding his hands in front of him in a
kind of refusal. His eyes had a hangdog look as he hurried out of the room.

She dressed quickly,
settling for a tired gray pullover. She stuffed her warm sock-covered feet into
house shoes. If anything should confirm her worst fears, this was it. Any
sexual interaction with Alex was no longer an option. His stare locked onto her
from across the room. He looked angry, probably blamed her for trying to seduce
him. Her face flushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry I took so long in
the shower,” she said toward him as she left her bedroom. “It’s all yours now.”

She continued into the
kitchen and assessed the status of dinner. The heart had gone out of her plans.
But they had to eat. She pulled the chicken out of the slow oven and poured the
broth through a strainer. She sautéed onion and celery and dumped in a bunch of
sage and the broth before stirring it into the big bowl of crumbled cornbread.
Brown sugar and butter dotted the mashed sweet potatoes.

When it was time, that
and the cornbread dressing could bake together along with the rolls. The
mustard and turnip greens only needed reheating and the cranberry relish could
wait in the fridge. Pumpkin pie and pecan pie had been cooked two days before.
Later she would whip the cream. Some of the items she had jubilantly planned at
first could be eliminated. It was far more food than two people could eat
anyway.

The view out the kitchen
door window rippled in rainwater streaming down the glass. Normally rain made
her feel cozy, tucked in. This damn thing with Alex twisted everything in her
life. Maybe she couldn’t work with him after all, if she couldn’t get past this
crushing need. She couldn’t afford to be so distracted, so emotional. She had
to find a way to get back in control.

Alex’s voice came close
behind her. She whirled around with a gasp. He had moved silently across the
floor in his sock feet.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to
startle you,” he said. “I thought you might like to see my concept drawings
now, but if you’re busy...”

“No, I’ve got everything
under control for dinner, did you get warmed up? I hope I didn’t use up all the
hot water.”

“No.” His eyes crinkled
in a smile. “I had hot water and feel a lot better now. That was quite a hike.”

Oh, she wanted him, could
feel his lips against hers. It would take her a long time to get past this man.

“Well,” she said,
brushing past him, “how about the dining table, is that a good place?”

“I was thinking maybe on
the couch?”

“Okay. Would you like a
cocktail?”

“Perfect.”

She carried the gimlets in
their fancy glasses to the coffee table with napkins tucked into her jeans
pocket. “Didn’t slosh much,” she commented dryly as some of the drink dripped
off her hands. She took a long sip of hers, savoring the delicious
lime-flavored gin.

He drank half of his in a
gulp. Heat radiated off his body, or maybe the stove had finally kicked the
room back up to over-warm. Rain splattered off the porch overhang in a steady
distant drumbeat. She rushed to the Christmas tree—she had forgotten to plug in
the lights this morning. For a moment, with the sound of the rain and the fire
crackling in the stove and the colored lights reflecting on all the shiny
ornaments, she felt so full of pleasure and happiness she wanted to shout and
laugh out loud.
Alex in her house, on Christmas Day.
She had never had a better Christmas.

But the realization of
his truth, that he loved someone already, that he had politely refrained from
making love to her, flooded back into her mind. This was so much worse than
Ethan. She’d been a fool.
Again.
Was this going to be
the story of her life?

She lifted her head and
went back to the couch, where she took another long drink and tried not to look
at his thigh next to her. Or his arms unrolling his big sheets of
paper,
or his hands gripping the papers and holding them
open for her to see. Or the heat surging from his arm, his thigh, his chest as
they sat side by side with the papers spread out across their laps.

Oh, Alex, what have
you done to me?

“Here’s the profile of
what I think would work great on that slope. It’s one of the ideas I had after
I thought about the general lay of your land. Hell,” he laughed roughly, “Dan
and
I
walked over enough of it. I had a better feel
for it than I knew.”

“It’s fabulous, Alex,”
she murmured after a few moments of looking at his drawings. “It’s beautiful,
absolutely amazing. You drew all this?”

The pencil marks stroked
over the paper in bold lines, a preliminary sketch with a few overstrikes,
confident and artful. The land contours reflected in the lines of the house
with its adjoining roof sections, porches, overhangs, and steps, almost an
organic outgrowth of the land itself. He had penciled a few trees and boulders
to elaborate on the feel of the place. In the distance, he had drawn the hills
as they dipped and rose to the line of the Ozark
plateau
.

“You’re good,” she said,
turning to face him. “You’re really good.”