Can't Fight This Feeling (6 page)

Behind her back, a man called her name. “Angelica?”

Her eyes closed. Of course Brett had seen her escape. “Um...yeah?”

The rug muffled his footsteps, but she sensed his approach. The hairs on the back of her neck jumped to attention. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Can’t a woman have a little alone time?” she snapped out, without turning toward him.

She didn’t need to see him to sense the rising of one of his eyebrows. “Hiding by the back door?”

With a shrug, she tried to indicate nonchalance instead of idiocy.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice low.

“Of course not!” She glanced over her shoulder to see him rub his palm over his hair, his expression frustrated. “Why’d you follow me?”

“I—”

“Never mind. I’m leaving.” But she did nothing more than turn to face him.

“What are you doing here, anyway? This doesn’t seem your kind of place.”

She was supposed to be networking, she remembered. Making contacts in hopes of finding another job. Because she was without family, without a home, without more than a few dollars to her name.

Suddenly, it was too much. Overwhelmed by her situation, overstimulated by the presence of the man she’d been attracted to for months, she felt another upwelling of those useless tears. Angry at her herself, she dashed them away with the edge of her hand.

“Angelica.” Then he was close. Closer than when they’d been saying goodbye at the coffee place the other day. Closer than ever before. She felt his breath on her temple and his body heat made her own skin prickle.

His fingers gripped her chin to tilt her face to his. Then he groaned, the sound frustrated. Resigned.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured.

And before she could agree, because having his hands on her was
terrible
, he kissed her.

His lips were hard, his tongue insistent. She opened for him—there seemed no alternative—and he swept inside in the same way he swept away all her sensible thoughts. Her fingers clutched his biceps and they swelled under her touch.

His head tilted, and the kiss went deeper. Her tongue slid along his, and they both shuddered. He crowded her until she stepped back, her shoulder blades to the wall. That didn’t stop him, he just kept pressing into her and instead of being nervous of his big, masculine frame surrounding her smaller one, she only felt...turned on.

And, strangely safe.

One arm curled around his neck and she tilted her hips, the jut of his sex against her belly. His hands clutched at her hair and he pushed into her, harder, and then...

He tore his mouth from hers. Stepped back.

“Bad idea,” he muttered again, and was gone.

Angelica sagged against the wall, struggling to bring her breathing under control. Her fingers shook when she brought them to her lips, which felt both bruised and scorched.

A hysterical giggle tried to climb up her throat. She thought of what she and Brett had done. What Glory had said.

Once you get more acquainted with people, who knows what might come up?

A little one-on-one with Brett Walker was probably not what her friend had in mind.

CHAPTER FOUR

N
URSING
HER
BEER
, Glory
Hallett kept her attention on her glass and her back to the rest of the crowd at Mr. Frank’s. Angelica had just left after returning from the ladies’ room, looking wide-eyed and unsettled, as if a ghost had goosed her in the back hall.

Her father was a bastard for taking his daughter’s money—not just her trust fund, but money that she had earned and invested from her modeling days—and for putting her into this position. Glory might have her beefs with her own dad, but he wasn’t a criminal. She peeked over her shoulder to see him in a far corner at a table with his cronies. Even though he was an exemplary citizen, she didn’t want to engage with him tonight. A girl should get to enjoy a beer without having her pops come over to talk shop, which was exactly what he’d do if he spotted her.

Maybe she, like Angelica, should head for home. Another ladies’ night at Mr. Frank’s felt suddenly flat. If she hung around much longer, surely Hank Hallett would notice her presence and come out of his very tenuous retirement to decide it was time to once again intrude on the course the business’s new management had set.

“This seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

“No,” she answered, not distracted from the morose turn of her thoughts. Sighing, she decided leaving was the best option she had. She could spend the rest of the evening debating whether to join an online dating service—not for the first time—knowing from the outset nothing would come of registering even if she did. She already knew every eligible man living in the local mountain resort communities. Outside the area...well, given that she’d never be leaving it because of her ties to the store, finding a man with a life down the hill would be a big waste of time and only bring the potential for heartbreak.

“Great,” the newcomer answered.

His low-toned voice niggled at her, and her gaze flicked to the right. When she saw a rangy body climb onto the stool, she took a longer look. Her heart jumped in her chest. “Oh. You.”

His eyes cut to her. They were dark, to match his dark, shaggy hair. She refused to wiggle on her seat, despite the fact it seemed he was having trouble placing her. Embarrassing!
She
remembered
his
face.

His glance dropped down to her chest. She wore a button-up Henley over a tank top and, yes, she was revealing a bit of cleavage. After working in a hardware store sixty hours a week, on occasion she did like to remind people she was a woman. But maybe she should feel a little insulted by his ogling.

His eyes lifted to hers. “You’re...Glory. I remember your name’s written on the apron you wear at work.”

Yay! All was forgiven! She smiled at him. “Hello, stranger.” Holding out her hand, she introduced herself. “Glory Hallett, of Hallett Hardware.”

His handshake was manly and brief. “Kyle Scott, of...”

She mentally cursed herself for her introduction. Did it sound like bragging? When he’d come in for some Spackle, rollers and paintbrushes, he’d been wearing threadbare jeans with a T-shirt that was probably as old as he was. It wasn’t easy making a living in the mountains. With housing and groceries and gas at resort prices, those who did certain jobs—say house painting or general handyman tasks—didn’t have an easy time of it. But she came from mountain pioneer stock and knew well that all work was honorable.

“Kyle Scott of Evergreen and Piano Keys,” she finished for him, naming two popular paint colors.

He blinked, clearly astonished.

Glory grinned at him. “I work in a hardware store. We sell cans of that stuff. I recognized those splashes on your clothes.”

He looked chagrined. “I have to admit I bought that paint over at Murphy’s,” he said, mentioning one of their competitors in the bigger town on the north side of the mountain. “I didn’t know about Hallett’s at the time.”

“Well, now you do.”

He smiled, slow. “Now I do.”

Glory swallowed the last of her beer. Then she signaled to the bartender, Murray. “Can I buy you a beer?” she asked the new guy, signaling for two without waiting for his answer.

At his silence, she glanced over, hoping she hadn’t stepped on his ego. “It’s ladies’ night,” she said. “I get a break on the price.”

“Oh. Well, then.” A strange expression crossed his face. “I appreciate it.”

Upon arrival of their drinks, she tapped her full glass to his. “What should we drink to?”

“New friends?” he suggested.

Warmth curled like a kitten in her belly. “You in these parts for a while, stranger?” It was just a beer, she reminded herself. No need to get worked up about his permanent address.

“Kyle,” he repeated. “I hope to be here for some time, yes. We’ll see how it goes.”

He hoped to be here for some time! It was good, though, that he appeared to understand that earning enough to pay mountain prices wouldn’t be easy. “I can put your name and number in our files,” she offered. “And we have a bulletin board near the front of the store where you can post a flyer. Customers often ask if we know of workers who do general home maintenance. That’s your gig, right?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, pretending it was a casual proposal. Something she’d do for anyone she happened upon in Mr. Frank’s. But the truth was, she had a sudden stake in his ability to make a mountain living. There was something about the man and his dark, intense eyes that caused her heart to race. Her whole body felt as if it was coming alive.

If he could afford to stay in the area...

She slid another quick look at his handsome face. There was a sudden change in the air, too. A first-day-of-school feeling. A first-day-of-the-rest-of-your-life feeling that sensitized the surface of her skin and made the oxygen she sucked in seem even thinner than normal.

No way was she going to ignore it.

Turning toward the new guy, she placed her elbow on the bar. “So...tell me about yourself. You really want to put down roots in the mountains?”

His gaze shifted from her to his beer and he hesitated.

Too long. Mortified heat crawled up her neck. “Um, sorry,” she mumbled, and turned back to her own drink. “I’ll shut up now and let you enjoy your evening in peace.”
Stupid
, she thought.
Stupid, stupid.
He was probably married or gay or simply not interested in her in any way. Just because
she’d
been instantly attracted...

She remembered the day he’d walked into the store. The bell over the door had rung with its usual cheery sound, and she’d looked up from dusting the boxes of wooden matches that her dad insisted they stock but nobody ever put in their basket. The stranger had looked a little lost and a lot hot and she’d smiled to herself as she approached and asked if he needed help. There was something about a man and any kind of shopping task—even when it was hardware stuff. They always roamed the floor with an air of bafflement, as if the entire process confounded them.

Whether a woman was browsing or knew exactly what she wanted, she walked through a store with the confidence of a general on a battlefield.

He’d asked to be pointed toward the painting supplies and then he’d strolled off in the direction she’d indicated, leaving her to admire the set of his shoulders and those long legs. But she’d dismissed him from her mind immediately after he’d made his purchases, however. Because mooning over a visitor wasn’t a practical thing to do.

Yet now that she’d run into him at mostly locals Mr. Frank’s and he said he was hoping to remain in the area...well, that seemed promising.

Not if he wasn’t interested, however.

The proprietor of a locally owned and operated hardware store had to be nothing but practical. So even if he wanted to be more than temporary to the mountains, if the spark wasn’t mutual, she wasn’t going to waste a moment worrying about it.

“Glory.”

“Hmm?” She chirped it, faking happy and unconcerned. Her gaze stayed stubbornly glued on the TV above the bar. The coverage of an early snow in Wisconsin was fascinating.

“I’ve forgotten the steps,” he said.

“Mmm.” She made a mental note to check on her order of snow shovels. You never wanted to be deeply discounting surplus in April, but you’d better have plenty in stock between New Year’s and Valentine’s Day.

Kyle released a sigh. “So it’s no wonder I’ve already stumbled on them. Give me another chance?”

She shook herself and shot him a quick look. “What?”

His expression was sheepish. “Is there a way to tell a woman you’re rusty when it comes to bar pickups?”

Rearing back, she felt another hot flush overtake her. “I wasn’t trying to pick you up!” It was sort of a lie, but still.

“Hell,” he muttered, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I did it again.”

“Did what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I...work a lot. Don’t get out much.”

Which sounded like Glory. “So...?”

“So, it was more like
I
was trying to pick
you
up.”

Her eyes rounded. “You really
are
rusty. You’re not supposed to admit the pickup intention right out loud like that.”

He laughed.

She liked the sound of it. “Though to be truthful, I’m not into that kind of thing anyway.” Yes, she’d wanted to talk to him, feel out the boundaries of the attraction she felt for him, but a pickup implied sex and she didn’t jump into anyone’s bed.

He grimaced, and as if he could read her mind, he said, “Yeah. I bet it sounded like I was after sex, huh?”

“Um...it did.”

His hand slapped his forehead again. “I’m terrible at this, see?”

He was too good-looking to be “terrible.” She figured he’d had plenty of opportunities to know women in every way possible.

“You’re looking skeptical,” he said.

“It could be just a good line,” she told him honestly and lowered her voice to a manly tone. “‘I’m inexperienced and utterly harmless despite my good looks and fabulous smile.’”

His mouth curved upward.

Yep, fabulous smile
, Glory thought.

“I didn’t say I was ‘inexperienced.’” Mischief sparked in his eyes. “Just out of practice.”

Smiling herself, she shook her head. “Looks like the rhythm is coming right back to you.”

Their gazes met and she had to suppress a little shiver. Truly, she hadn’t felt this sense of something-good-about-to-happen since she was twelve and found she was assigned to a seat beside Harper Adrian, the cutest boy in the seventh grade.

Of course, Harper had cheated off her the entire year and written a nasty note about her on the bathroom wall the last day of school.

She sighed.

Frowning, Kyle redirected his gaze to his beer as if he had his own heavy thoughts. “I like it here,” he said. “I like working with my hands and I like that it’s...simpler. Not like down the mountain.”

“I like that you like it here,” Glory said, smiling. “But it’s down the hill.”

He glanced over at her.

“You’ve got to use the proper locals’ lingo if you intend to become one. We call it down the hill.”

“Locals’ lingo...” He drained the remainder of his beer. “About that—”

A meaty hand clapped on her shoulder. “Glory girl! I didn’t see you come in.”

She stifled her groan and half turned. “Dad. Having fun?”

“Sure. But I’m glad I caught you. I think we need to have a little chat.”

“Oh, gee, Dad. I’m just about to...” What? Make another move on the total stranger? Or leave the bar and lose out on learning any more about him?

“This won’t take long.” The stool on her other side was unfortunately empty and her father slid onto it.

Glory peeked at Kyle and saw him stifle a yawn. Then he stood and withdrew some bills, leaving a nice tip for the bartender.

She was losing out on him, anyway. Her dad started yammering in her ear as Kyle sent her a smile and then tapped two fingers to his forehead in a silent goodbye. In return, she pinkie waved, saying farewell, most likely, to the most interesting thing that had come her way in months. Possibly years.

“About that bin of pumpkins...” Her father droned on. “I think they do better at the back of the store, where we’ve always kept them, not out on the sidewalk where you have to drag them in before closing every night.”

Hank Hallett didn’t like change. Glory supposed she shouldn’t be looking for anything in her life to alter either, not when she’d already predicted this very serious discussion regarding pumpkin placement.

She snuck a look over her shoulder in the direction of Kyle Scott’s exit. His hand was on the door. As he pushed it open, he glanced back. Their gazes tangled once again.

And Glory felt a new rush of hope, despite how impractical and nonsensical it might be. She sighed. Likely nothing would ever come of it.

* * *

A
S
THE
BROTHER
OF
three younger sisters, Brett had a keen appreciation of male companionship. It was why he enjoyed the little ritual he’d established with his brothers-in-law-to-be. A couple of times a week, they met for morning coffee and he always looked forward to it.