Vivian Arend - High Passion

“Devon, hit me for being an idiot, but— ow .” Alisha rubbed her arm where he’d bumped her with the back of his wrist. “I didn’t mean it literally, you jerk.”

“Hey, a lady asks me to spank her, I oblige.” He pulled to a stop at a massive gated entrance, lowering his window to enter the access code.

Alisha was embarrassed now at the visions she’d had about him fighting to find food during school. The starving student and the humble-living search-and-rescue worker were miles away from the enormous home with multiple outbuildings they were approaching down the long driveway. “You forgot to tell me your parents were, what? Cattle barons?”

Devon made a rude noise. “Please. You’re not going to give me shit for not talking about my background, are you? Miss Sphinx?”

“Fine, I deserved that.” She gave in and gawked out the window. “You have horses. Devon, oh my God, you have a whole herd of them in your yard.”

“My parents’ yard. And those are the family rides. I don’t own a horse anymore. It would be hard to stable her in Banff.”

She twisted away from the fascinating sights outside to examine Devon closer. His smooth jaw had tightened in the past few minutes, and this time she was the one who laid her hand on his arm to apologize. “I’m sorry for making assumptions.”

Devon shrugged. “You have no idea.”

He flashed a smile, and her worry eased. “Will you take me riding?”

“Can you ride?”

She gave him a look.

He gave her one back. “Not that fancy bullshit show stuff, but real riding.”

Alisha grinned harder. “Want to see who can finish a course faster? I’m game.”

The suggestion of yet another contest eased the last of the awkwardness that had risen between them, and she slipped her fingers into his until he needed his hand to apply the parking brake.

Devon walked around to open her door, then dragged a hand through his blond hair, leaving it standing every which way. “You don’t have to memorize everyone’s names,” he reminded her. “If you forget, just ask—they’ll be happy to tell you again and again. Don’t accept any babies or small children out of guilt, especially not ones with suspicious scents.”

Alisha laughed, stepping closer and straightening that lock of hair that always drove her crazy. “Relax. I can handle myself. I can handle your family.”

He slipped his arms around her and lowered his head until their lips made contact. “Thank you for joining me.”

She still had her fingers in his hair when the front door swung open, and noise enveloped them.

A deep, firm voice reached them first. “Devon. And Alisha. Welcome.”

Higher-pitched feminine laughter stole out. “You’re interrupting them, Dad.”

“That’s my job,” he insisted as Alisha straightened in embarrassment.

Devon kept a tight hold on her so she was forced to remain tucked against his side. An older version of Devon peered down from the landing, his hands resting on the wheels of his wheelchair.

“It would be politer to greet guests with a drink,” Devon pointed out, escorting Alisha up the stairs to the side of his dad’s chair.

She held out her hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Leblanc.”

“Please, call me Stewart.” He accepted her hand but didn’t shake it, instead tugging her forward with a wink. “Pretty girls I insist on kissing on the cheek.”

She laughed and leaned over far enough to let him plant one on her. Then she stepped back and watched as Devon shook hands solemnly with the man.

“Good to see you, son.”

“I’m not pretty enough to kiss?” Devon teased.

“You got your kisses, and your lickin’s, when you were younger. Now you’re old enough to shake my hand and pour me a drink.” Stewart eyed him closely. “You did bring wine for dinner?”

Devon made a show of regret. “Damn, I knew we forgot something.”

“Oh, Devon, how could you?” Another of his sisters had stepped onto the porch, and she frowned at them in annoyance from behind Stewart’s wheelchair. Her short, businesslike blond hair barely moved as she shook her head. “One thing you have to bring, and it’s just like you to forget.”

She glared daggers at both Devon and Alisha, and Alisha shifted uncomfortably.

Well, that was lovely. Obviously not all of Devon’s family were as easy to get along with as his father.

She lifted the bag from her hip and held it out to the stern-faced woman. “Umm, actually, you’ll find a couple of bottles in here. The white is already chilled, and the red can be opened to breathe if we’re eating soon.”

The bag was accepted none too graciously. “I don’t know why Devon couldn’t just say so. Everything has to be some huge joke with him.”

She stormed off, leaving Stewart gazing after her. He twisted in his chair and made a face. “That one? Is a trifle high-strung. Ignore her, and make yourself at home.”

Devon squeezed Alisha’s fingers and they followed his father into the house.

The only possible description of what followed was chaos .

Children raced everywhere, from toddlers to tweens, the oldest of them eyeing Alisha with that mix of curiosity and disdain most kids that age were so good at. She stared back, poker-faced.

She was introduced to all the rest of Devon’s family. His mom squeezed her in a hug and then vanished, chasing after children with a warning to stay out of the cookies until dinner was served.

It was a good thing the house was so big, because the sheer number of bodies milling around probably placed it on the maximum occupancy list. It was a strange contrast to the holidays she remembered. Gentle music playing in the background, servants ushering in the various courses of the meal. Nothing but small talk at the table, not this uproarious noise that never seemed to end.

Alisha leaned on a wall to one side of the action and took it all in, somewhere between uncomfortable and amazed.

Warm arms snuck around her. “You need me to top up your drink? You’ve got this glazed expression slipping over you.”

“I’m overwhelmed. I guess you can tell.”

“Two more hours, three at the tops, and we’ll be free. We could stop on the way home and hike to Elbow Falls. Stretch our legs and work off some of the three pieces of pie I plan on consuming.”

His lips hit her neck and she shivered. “Your sister will turn me into a toad if she catches you doing that. I don’t think I impressed her much.”

Devon stroked his fingers over her waist where he held her, his thumb gentle over the gap of skin he found. “Charley doesn’t approve of me, ergo, you can’t be approved of. Don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t, but . . .”

“But what?” The words whispered past her ear, and she heated up without him even trying. “I approve of you completely.”

The ringing of a bell stole the chance to explain her confusion. They were hustled to the table and placed in what were probably considered strategic positions. In fact, glancing down the long table, there was a kind of twisted symmetry to it all. The tables were slightly different heights in places—not even the giant main portion with its rough-hewn planking could hold the entire family, but the room was large enough that they had laid two more tables end to end as well. The teens were crowded around a smaller table in the kitchen, and little children seemed to be tucked one on either side of their parents, hopefully to be corralled into behaving.

Which put her and Devon close to the head of the table and the Leblancs.

The little girl on Alisha’s left didn’t look too terrifying, staring up unblinking with her pale hair braided into an intricate design. Alisha thought she was a Kimberly or something like that. Definitely one of Charley’s girls.