Vivian Arend: Rocky Mountain Desire

“I’m sorry—I keep apologizing to you, but it’s just…I wanted to say…” The range of suitable words in his vocabulary seemed sorely lacking so he just went for it. “I know it’s wildly inappropriate, but I have to tell you. You’re a very beautiful woman. That’s all. I wanted you to know that.”

It was cathartic to let the words escape. He had no idea what would happen next, but at least he’d been honest.

She swayed on her feet, then her head lifted, light shining off her cheek as she twisted toward him. “Thank you, Matt.”

He froze, every muscle gone taut.

That voice—familiar. Too familiar. He’d heard it a hundred times over the years at family dinners with his high school sweetheart. Listened to it on the phone when he’d called to speak to Helen. Oh shit. Oh shit, no .

Her name jolted out. “Hope?”

She finished turning and the beam of light from the overhead bulbs hit her face full on. No wonder he’d thought he’d recognized her. Her eyes were lighter than her sister’s, a pale blue like a summer’s morning sky. Right now they were open so wide he could have driven his truck through them.

“Of course. You mean…? But…” Her smile faded, her hands rising up to cross in front of her body as if she still wore that revealing costume. “I thought you recognized me. Isn’t that why you were staring, why you came to the change room? And now, you said that I’m attractive, and I thought maybe you weren’t coming to give me hell, but…”

She had thought he was hot for her because it was true, and didn’t that make him an asshole, lusting after his ex’s little sister.

All of a sudden he felt every inch the bastard he was. “I didn’t know.”

There was nothing he could say to make this better, but he had to try.

Confess you were a jerk.

“I’m sorry, Hope. I didn’t know it was you. I…” She shifted her feet uneasily, focusing on something to the side of him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Say it, fuckhead . Admit you’re a shit . “…I thought you were a stranger who liked me. I don’t usually go around pestering dancers, honest.”

Her chin rose and she looked him in the eye. “Please don’t tell anyone I was here.”

Then she spun and raced away into the parking lot before he could apologize anymore. Equal parts relief and guilt poured over him, and he really didn’t know what the hell to do.

Five months later

The giggles emitting from the living room were far too mature and feminine to belong to his nephews. Matt paused on his way up the stairs to figure out if he was about to walk into something he’d rather avoid.

“You going to have that done in time for Christmas?”

“I have to have it ready. The only way Gramma is allowed to give a homemade Christmas present to one child is to have something for all of them.”

Matt leaned on the railing and grinned. His ma and her brood of friends doing the doting thing again. He’d forgotten about the monthly hen party. Guess he could put in an appearance before disappearing to safer and more masculine pastures.

If his trailer weren’t so damn cold, he’d still be out there. But with the temperature dipping toward minus forty, sheet metal and forced air heaters simply didn’t cut it.

“Evening ladies.”

He rounded the corner, spotting, as he expected, piles of…stuff…everywhere. This time it looked as if a fabric shop had exploded in the living room, and not only his mother, but a half-dozen older women from the community beamed at him.

“Matt. Come and see what I’ve made.” His ma held up a small quilt with a horse print on it, waving it madly for his approval.

“Very nice. Who’s that for?”

“Robbie. And this one—” another quilt was raised for inspection, “…is for Nathan, and this one is Lance’s.”

He could be there for hours if he didn’t manage to excuse himself after the first couple minutes.

“Love them all. You’ve done a fine job, Ma. Hey, I just wanted to say hello.” Matt glanced around the room. “It’s bitter cold outside—you ladies all have rides home tonight?”

“You want to escort me, you can, young man.” Mrs. Katen winked and the room resounded again with laughter. The woman was one of his ma’s best friends, and she and her husband had been married close to forty years.

Matt tipped his head. “Your husband might not ride rodeo anymore, ma’am, but I’m still plenty scared of him. I think I’ll let him be your backup, if you don’t mind.”

He gave his ma a kiss on the cheek before turning to leave.

The breath whooshed right out of him as he came face to face with Hope. Long red hair framed her shining face, and her mouth opened and closed a few times as they stared at each other. Then she smiled and tucked her fingers together, standing like a prim and proper maiden in the midst of a singing recital.

All he could picture was her with nothing but tiny seashells covering her breasts.

“Matt. Good to see you. You’re a little late to join the quilting bee, but if you want, I’ve got a lovely printed panel you could start on.”

He hoped the heat flushing his face could be excused by the laughter in the room. “I think the family woodworking business is enough of a crafty task for me. Last thing I sewed on was a button, and I was bleeding like crazy by the time I was done.”

Hope stepped to the side at the same moment he did, and they bumped. He caught her before either of them fell, the heat of her body drawing him like some strange magnet. The sensation was far too familiar and far too tempting.

He didn’t want this.

He was surprised she didn’t knee him in the groin.

Hope wiggled from his grasp and stepped back, teetering until she found her balance. “Sorry, I’m very clumsy at times. Two left feet.”

Not clumsy when she was shaking her ass on the dance stage.

Matt pulled himself together. “No, totally my fault.”

She wore a sweet scent. Something mild and flowery, nothing at all like the stronger spicy perfumes Helen had always worn. He took a deeper sniff before he was even aware he was doing it. Hope’s eyes widened, and she paced back farther, opening the space between them. A momentary rush of disappointment hit that he wasn’t willing to admit to anyone, least of all to himself.

Not that he deserved any better after their surprise meeting last summer. She’d never returned his calls, never let him apologize properly, and he didn’t blame her one bit.

“I’d better head home.” Hope’s gaze skimmed past his, then she busied herself grabbing bags and piling material into heaps. “If you ladies need anything this coming week you be sure to call. I can coach you over the phone if you want, if you can’t wait until you make it into the shop. I know you’re eager to finish these projects in time for the holidays.”

Marion Coleman spoke up. “Matt, help carry her things. It took three trips for her to bring it all in.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Coleman, that’s fine—”

“Of course, I’ll help.” Matt tugged the bags from her grasp. “I’ll nab my boots and coat, and meet you at the front door.”

The panic on her face vanished almost as quickly as it arrived, and she smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Matt dropped his handfuls by the front door then pivoted to fetch his shoes from the downstairs entrance that all the Coleman males still used out of habit. Only as soon as he turned, he smacked right into Hope, and once again, ended up catching hold to prevent her from falling.

The soft material of her T-shirt under his fingers felt way better than it should. And the thoughts that raced through his mind were of dragging his hands off her arms and around her waist to tuck her tight against him to see if she was as good a fit as he remembered from their brief tangle outside the door—