Christie Ridgway - Can't Fight This Feeling

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.

* * *

AS 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.

It was a no-stress way to start the day, hanging with the two men who didn’t expect any more from him than the occasional comment on the news playing on the TV hanging in the corner. Brett was no less relaxed now, even though it was the first time he’d been in Oscar’s Coffee since buying Angelica hot chocolate.

He’d banished her from his thoughts.

That he dreamed of her, well, he wasn’t going to beat himself up for that. A man didn’t have control over his sleeping self. But in his waking hours he had disciplined his mind not to linger on her big brown eyes, silky hair, bountiful breasts. He didn’t think about the way her long lashes swept the pink-edged apples of her cheeks.

Her small hand, cool in his.

“What’s got that expression on your face?” Ryan Hamilton asked. “Do you need a muffin or something? The breakfast burritos are good.”

Brett glanced over. “Huh?”

“You look hungry, man.”

Guilt poked at him. Made him grouchy. Small hand, cool in his. Yeesh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, wanting to soak his head in cold water. She’s supposed to be banished from your thoughts!

A server approached, their coffees on a tray. She slid them onto the table, plucked their number from the silver holder, then sent Brett a bright smile. “Long time no see, honey.”

Blinking, he noticed it was Danielle Shore. “You’re working here now?”

She nodded, her blond hair swirling around her shoulders. “Just one shift a week. Not getting enough hours at the boutique.”

A tough time of year for the full-timers. Autumn and spring were the slow seasons in the mountains. “I hope you can stay busy, Danielle.”

Tucking the tray under her arm, she edged nearer, close enough to nudge his thigh with her knee. “I can think of things we can do to fill my spare time.”

He considered her obvious proposition. They’d dated for a few months a couple of years before. But it had faded and they’d gone their separate ways. But Danielle’s good looks hadn’t diminished in the least. She was California-mountain-girl pretty, with that blond hair, those blue eyes and the dash of cute freckles over her nose. A round two might not be a bad idea.