My Kind of Wonderful (8 page)

He hadn’t seen her as a cancer patient.

He hadn’t seen her as someone to feel sorry for.

He hadn’t seen her lying on the bathroom floor, sick as a dog, unable to lift even her head. He hadn’t seen her throw up. He hadn’t seen her stripped of her dignity, stuck on hospital death row in a gown with needles protruding from her everywhere.

He’d seen her as a woman, a sexy one given the light in his eyes. And it’d been the most empowering, wondrous feeling. She couldn’t have contained herself if she’d tried.

So she hadn’t tried.

She’d kissed him instead.

God, she’d really kissed him…

The email stated that her draft was family approved and she could start whenever she was ready.

So she’d rushed through the rest of the week and the following Saturday morning she hit the road before dawn. She was just pulling into the Cedar Ridge Resort parking lot when Aaron called.

“You’re not home,” he said. “I’m standing at your door with two McDonald’s breakfasts and you’re not home.”

“Nope.” She paused and bit her tongue so the automatic
I’m sorry
didn’t pop out. She wasn’t sorry. She was happy. She had an entire weekend of working on her mural in front of her. “I didn’t know you were coming by. I told you what I’d be doing with my next two months of weekends.”

“You’re at Cedar Ridge,” he said, none too happily.

“Yes.”

“You had a long week at work,” he said. “Scott said you were run ragged.”

This was the problem with her biggest client being her ex’s brother. She’d known that going in and she’d known that going out. The ties hadn’t been fully severed and never would be. “I’m fine, Aaron,” she said as gently as she could. And actually, she was so much more than fine. Excitement was thrumming through her and she couldn’t wait to get to work.

“I’m tempted to come up and see that for myself,” he said.

“No,” she said. Not gently. Bailey forced herself to speak calmly for fear she’d set off his protective nature and he’d come up here no matter what she said. “I’m working. We’re not together anymore, Aaron. You know this.”

“What I know is that it was a mistake to let you go.”

“My choice,” she said quietly. Firmly.

“And my fault,” he said just as quietly.

Unbidden came an image of Aaron locked in the arms of another woman, pressing her against the wall, his face a mask of savage pleasure—a side he’d never shown her, not once.

She’d wanted that kind of smokin’ chemistry. She needed it and craved it like air.

But it was too late for that.

Another image came to her, a far better one. Hud pulling her in hard and kissing her like she’d
always
dreamed of being kissed, hard and hot and deep… “You’re going to let me do this,” she said.

No response.

“I’m going to repeat that,” she said. “You’re going to let me do this.”

“As long as we stay friends,” Aaron said. “You promised that, Bailey. And friends check on each other.”

“Agreed,” she said. “And I’ll let you know when I need checking on.” With that, she disconnected. She slid on her jacket and got out of her car, stretching her legs. The air was crisp and felt good. She felt good. Maybe she’d only been in Cedar Ridge twice before in her life, but somehow the place already felt like home.

T
hey’d had a big storm over the week, Bailey saw. The lot had been cleared but she could see several feet of new powder in the berms lining the walkways.

Kenna Kincaid greeted Bailey and shook her head when Bailey marveled at the new snow.

“Three feet,” Kenna confirmed, sounding annoyed. “And people have come out of the woodwork to ski it this weekend too. Hud and his crew have been working twelve-and fourteen-hour days getting ready. It’s going to be crazy today.”

Bailey hadn’t given much thought to the day-to-day life of those who actually lived here and had to run this place. But if Hud’s phone and radio last weekend had been any indication, he was swamped twenty-four-seven.

Kenna took her to a large storage unit where they had scaffolding stored among other equipment such as a large snow-blower and a snowcat. “Help yourself in here,” Kenna said, and then eyeballed Bailey’s small frame. “You going to need help?”

In truth, Bailey had no idea. She’d never worked on scaffolding before, but she gave her standard statement. “I’ll be fine.”

When Kenna shrugged and left, Bailey went to work. She separated out the steel bars and wood planking and was banging with a hammer on two pieces of steel that were stuck together when the doubts slid into her brain.

What had she been thinking? How did she possibly think she could handle building the scaffolding on her own? Or for that matter, the mural itself? What did she know about painting on such a scale? Panic hit her then, right in the gut, and she sat on the floor and pressed her forehead to her knees.

Don’t worry about staying inside the lines, darling…
Bailey could still hear her grandma’s voice, joyful and in high spirits, even though she had already been fighting the cancer that would slowly drain the life out of her. But she’d never lost her positive nature, never.

Don’t worry about whether you can do it, Bailey-Bean. Just pretend you can. Pretend enough and it becomes real.

That was how her grandma had lived her life and it was how Bailey intended to live hers. Her grandma would want this for Bailey, and Bailey wanted it for herself. It was on her list. She wanted to paint a mural big and happy enough that her grandma could see it from whatever cloud she was sitting on, watching from above.

So she went back to hammering the shit out of the steel.

“What the hell?”

She whipped around and found Hud staring at her. He was in ski patrol gear today, looking official.

And officially hot.

She did her best to roll her tongue back into her mouth, and smiled. “Hey.”

“My sister said you were about to be stupid and not admit you needed help.”

“So you came by to get a front-row seat for the stupidity?” she asked.

He smiled. “You’re going to drive people crazy with all the banging.”

Pretend enough and it becomes real
.

So Bailey lifted an eyebrow and pretended she was a sexy siren. “Now there’s a complaint I’ve never had before,” she said in her best Marilyn Monroe whisper.

He laughed.

Okay, so maybe she’d have to work on it. “So you, what, drew the short straw to go rescue the stupid chick?”

“No.”

“No?” she asked, a little breathless because he’d come inside the storage unit and had stopped only when they were toe to toe.

“I won you,” he said, his voice whiskey smooth.

Her good parts quivered. “What does that mean?”

“In our offices,” he said, “everything that has to be done each week goes up on a scheduling wall, which inevitably starts a fight over who’s going to do what, so we started a new thing this year. We throw darts for the chores. You were on the board this morning, or the scaffolding was. And you’ll have to trust me on this, moving and building the scaffolding was the easiest thing on that entire wall, which meant we were all fighting for it.” He smiled. “I won you.”

The way he kept saying that had her heart doing a little squishy dance. And there were some other reactions, too,
decidedly south of her heart. Had been ever since that kiss…

Was she the only one feeling it? Because that would be embarrassing. She looked down at herself and realized she was wearing approximately twenty layers of clothing to stay warm and that she was also now sweating thanks to the exertion and most likely also Hud’s effortless hotness. She probably looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

A melting Pillsbury Doughboy. So much for being a sex siren.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s on my list.”

Hud reached for his radio and put in a request for a few helping hands. He’d just put the radio back on his hip when it went off, something job related. He listened for a beat and then began barking orders. He’d no sooner slid the radio back into place than his cell phone rang. He grimaced and answered that too. He said something about how they needed at least three staff members in each of the outposts today and yes, he knew the fencing on the backside of the mountain needed to be replaced stat and that he was on it as soon as he checked the staff rosters to make sure everyone was able to take their required breaks.

There was more, a lot more. And it all boggled Bailey. His life boggled her. The reality of his job and the responsibilities of his day-to-day life here on the mountain were dizzying. “Do you ever get a day off?” she asked.

“No.”

“That’s… awful.”

He reacted by not reacting. Shock.

His phone buzzed again and he shook his head. “I’m
sorry, I have to take this. It’s my mom and I have no idea why she’s FaceTiming me.” He hit
ANSWER
and then there came a lot of white noise.

Hud blinked and held his phone farther away as if he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing. “Mom.”

Bailey peeked at the phone. It looked as if Carrie was holding it to show off her plain white ceiling.

“Mom,” Hud said again.

“Well if that isn’t the silliest thing,” came Carrie’s voice. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to speak into.”

Hud rubbed a hand over his eyes, like maybe he was getting a headache. “Mom, just hold the phone up in front of you.”

There was a lot of movement and then there was a man. Older, bald, a little round. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, a button-down shirt, and… no pants. Just bright red boxers.

“Who the hell are you?” Hud stared at the phone. “What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Carrie said, and then the view of the man went upside down. They caught a quick flash of the ceiling again and then saw Carrie’s smiling face. “There you are, baby. How are you?”

Hud was clearly not feeling friendly. “Why is there a man with no pants in your room?” he asked in a quiet but scary, badass voice.

Carrie laughed. “That’s Terrance. I’m teaching him how to play cards.”

Hud’s jaw worked a moment. “Tell me you’re not teaching him how to play strip poker.”

“Well, of course not! Good Lord, Hud. I wouldn’t do that.”

Hud relaxed marginally.

“I mean, it’s not even dark yet,” Carrie said. “You can’t play strip poker before dark.”

Hud appeared to grind his back teeth together for a moment. “Then explain why he’s not wearing pants.”

“Well, baby, you’re still a young one, but when a man gets older, he…” She tilted her head. “How should I put this?”

Terrance stuck his face next to Carrie’s. “I don’t like to crowd my bits,” he said.

Carrie smiled at him. “Yes,” she said. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Hud closed his eyes briefly. “I’m at work, Mom. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Okay, baby.”

Hud looked Terrance in the eye. “Air out your bits in your own room, soldier, you hear me?”

Terrance sighed. “I hear you.”

Hud disconnected and stared at the phone for a long beat. “Jesus,” he finally muttered, looking tired.

“Your mom’s quite a character,” Bailey said.

“She’s sure something,” he agreed.

Bailey looked him over, wishing she could take a load off for him. “Hud?”

“Yeah?”

“When do you get to have any fun?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Let’s put it this way, I don’t have a list. I don’t have time for a list.”

“Fine, but what would be on it if you did?”

He shrugged.

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t know.”

“How could you not know?” she asked, stunned. “You don’t have any hopes and dreams?”

“I already have my dream job,” he said, which she couldn’t help noticing didn’t really answer her question.

“You have to have a list,” she said.

A whisper of a smile curved his lips. “Who says?”

“Me.” She pulled her little notepad from her saddlebag and thrust it at him. “Here, you can write it down as it occurs to you. It’s small enough to fit into one of your cargo pockets.”

He just kept looking at her, like maybe she was a species he’d never come across before.

She shook the notepad a little, and with a wry twist of his mouth he took the thing and stuck it into one of his myriad of pockets.

When his phone rang again, he looked at the screen and took the call with a terse “Kincaid.”

She could hear a male voice, low and pissed off, barking something about a delivery of… obnoxious undies?

Hud listened for a few beats and then disconnected, all without a word.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Aidan.”

She stared at him. “And?”

“Nosy much?” he asked.

“It was the mention of obnoxious undies,” she admitted. “And yes, I’m nosy as hell.”

His mouth twitched. “My brothers and I have an ongoing… thing. One of us sends another one of us a package. And whatever’s in it has to be worn on the next day. Proof is required or there will be a dare. And trust me, no one wants to face a Kincaid dare.”

“Package,” she repeated. “As in the aforementioned obnoxious undies?”

“The more obnoxious the better.” He smiled. “Aidan just got his delivery. Tomorrow he’ll be wearing butterfly lace bikini panties with cutouts in some pretty strategic areas, and he’s pissed because it’s some kind of anniversary between him and Lily and he wants a pass.”

“Which of course you’re going to give him,” she said. “Right?”

“Oh, so wrong.” Hud grinned and it nearly melted the bones right out of her knees. He stepped closer. “Guess what?”

“What?” she asked, annoyingly breathless.

“It’s my turn for a question now.”

Oh boy. “Aren’t you afraid that might express personal interest?”

His smile was a little naughty. “I’ve had my tongue down your throat. I’m pretty sure I’ve already expressed personal interest.”

Good point. “So what do you want to know about me?”

“I want to know about your list.” When their gazes met, her heart skipped a beat. Damn. She could stare at him staring at her all day long. He never looked at her all sad or worried, and he certainly never looked at her like he felt bad for her and all she’d been through.

It was so incredibly, amazingly attractive.

So she answered his question honestly. “I spent over a decade with an expiration date,” she said.

“Cancer?”

“Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Got it just before I turned fifteen. I was handed a death sentence but somehow managed to wrestle the beast against all the odds.” She
shrugged. “I get that most people make a bucket list when something bad happens, but I never did. Ten years is a really long time and for most of it I wasn’t normal. My life wasn’t anything close to normal. I was really sick, way too sick to do much of anything.” She shrugged. “Even so, my doctor always gave me options and she said one of those options needed to be a good spirit. So I secretly dreamed big. And when I got rid of the cancer and I started to feel… normal, I guess, I wrote down the list I’d been secretly dreaming of. A what-I-get-to-do-now-that-I-get-to-stay-alive list. Probably silly but there it is.”

She waited for the usual platitudes, empty and meaningless and rather annoying, but again they didn’t come.

What did come stunned her. “Not silly, not even close. I think you’re incredibly brave,” he said quietly.

She automatically started to shake her head
no
because she’d never thought of herself as brave before—the opposite actually. There’d been plenty of times when she hadn’t been able to see the end of the line, hadn’t been able to imagine herself getting to this point, had in fact wanted it just to be over.

So “brave”? Nope, but she sure could get used to seeing him look at her like she was and maybe she’d get brave by osmosis. “Thank you,” she said just as quietly. It’d only been a week but she’d half convinced herself that she’d imagined the chemistry between them. She hadn’t, and she was glad.

“So you’re good,” he said.

She nodded.

“Stay that way,” he said, and took the hammer from her hand.

“Am I keeping you from anything important?” she
asked as he tossed the hammer aside and began to pull out long pieces of steel and planks of wood.

“Depends on your definition of ‘important,’” he said, easily moving the long pieces of steel, the muscles of his shoulders and back moving enticingly beneath his shirt. “Been up since three a.m. on avalanche control and was about to grab breakfast.”

Good Lord. He’d been working for six hours already. And now she had him loading steel and wood, carrying it around the side of the building, and putting it together so she could access the entire wall. “Listen, I can get someone else to help me—”

“Bailey?”

“Yeah?”

“Shh.” Once he had all the material stacked near the wall they began to put it all together, and she had to admit she could never have managed on her own.

Not to mention that working in such close proximity as they were, there was a lot of accidental touching. A brushing of hands, bumping of shoulders… And every time he pulled back.

“What is that?” she finally asked when they stood on the second level of the scaffolding. She was hot, insulted, and dammit, also annoyingly turned on.

“What’s what?” he asked.

“You know what. You’re acting like you’re afraid to touch me.”