Can't Fight This Feeling

“Maybe we should contact the buyers and get them to write up testimonials we can put in next year’s program,” Vaughn Elliott said. About thirty, he was tall and golden-haired and maybe with a trust fund or something because Angelica didn’t get the impression he worked for a living. “I’d be happy to take that on if you’d give me the list of names.”

“Can’t do it,” Ruth said. “That’s confidential info...something the lawyers insisted upon. Anyway, next year we won’t be having an auction—just a big black-tie event. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Vaughn nodded, seeming satisfied. “I’m sure my grandfather, wherever he is, is thrilled by the value of his gift.”

There was little more to cover. Each of them made promises to write up their thoughts and ideas for improvements for the coming year’s committee. “Though we would love all of you to continue,” Ruth said. When several people murmured an assent, her gaze zeroed in on Angelica. “Please say you’ll be helping again.”

She hedged. “I’m not sure of my long-term plans.” But under the circumstances staying in the mountains would suit her best. She had familiarity, a friend or two, and it would keep her hidden away from the financial media. “But right now I’m still able to work my weekly shifts.” The tasks weren’t rigorous, but helping with the database and creating packets for new members was a good way to keep busy.

Short minutes later, the meeting adjourned. Vaughn walked her and Glory to their cars. “I still think the members would like to hear from the auction winners,” he said, sounding a bit peeved. “Ruth is too worried about keeping that list sacrosanct. Any way you can get your hands on it?”

“Nope,” Glory answered, digging through her purse. “I think only the executive board or maybe just the president has access.”

Angelica didn’t say that she, actually, did know the password to all the files and thus had access. When updating the member roster, she’d noticed the other list was in the same directory.

Vaughn wandered off to his own car, a pricey SUV that looked like an overmuscled panther. Angelica frowned at her little convertible, wondering if she could trade it for something more practical for winter in the mountains and if doing so would require any cash outlay.

“Ready?” Glory said. “We agreed on Mr. Frank’s, right?”

“That was your idea. I told you I wasn’t sure.”

“C’mon,” Glory cajoled. “It’s ladies’ night. The drinks are really cheap.”

“I don’t know. In my mood I might get sloppy drunk and make a fool of myself.”

“No, you won’t.” Glory snatched Angelica’s purse from her hand and fished out her keys, too. “Because you have a higher purpose.”

“What’s that?” She eyed her friend. “Tonight, getting sloppy drunk might be the higher purpose.”

Glory grabbed Angelica’s hand and slapped her keys into her palm. “What did I already tell you? Once you get more acquainted with people, who knows what might come up?”

Angelica had to admit it was at least some kind of plan. She had a life to form for herself. Hunkering down in her room at the Bluebird with its clunky television and four available channels was no way to network. So, on a sigh, she turned to her car and, once behind the wheel, followed Glory to the restaurant they’d agreed upon, just outside of the village of Blue Arrow Lake.

“This is a locals’ hangout,” Glory said as they approached the door of Mr. Frank’s. “Red vinyl booths, bar straight out of the 1950s. No blenders on the premises...so you have to take your hard booze on the rocks or not at all. No trendy cocktail orders. Got it?”

Angelica held open the heavily carved door for her friend. “I’ll resist my urge to ask for a mango-kale daiquiri.”

“Still,” Glory said, taking her by the arm to lead her toward the dimly lit but clearly crowded lounge, “it’s very popular on ladies’ night. Everybody will be here... We’ll make sure you meet at least some of them.”

They found stools on the short end of the L-shaped bar. A heavyset man in white shirtsleeves and a red vest slapped napkin squares in front of them. He glared at Glory. “I remember what you asked for last time and the answer is still no. I won’t make anything with the ridiculous name of—of—” His face turned red and he broke off. “You’re getting a beer.”

She winked at Angelica and leaned close to whisper. “I invent names of drinks just to embarrass him—last time it was ‘climax on a cloud.’ He’s an old friend of my dad’s.”

“You?” the bartender growled at Angelica.

She folded her hands on the bar like a perfect student. “Chardonnay, please.”

He shot her a glance of approval before going about fulfilling their orders. “You new around here?” he asked, placing the generous pour in front of her.

Glory spoke before she could. “This is my friend Angelica Rodriguez. She’s seeking work, if you hear of anyone who needs help. She’s part-time at the store and I can give her a glowing recommendation.”

He ran an assessing gaze over Angelica. “Has a flatlander look about her.”

Angelica bit her lip. She knew the word was synonymous with other to the people who lived full-time in the mountains.

“Yep,” Glory said, waving a hand. “But she’s up the hill now and wants to stay that way.”

Angelica busied herself with her wine as an excuse not to watch the man’s reaction. Too much was at stake.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the bartender said, and she glanced up. He winked at her. “I can pass the word.”

“Thank you.” Angelica decided she’d leave him a huge tip, no matter the slim state of her wallet. “I appreciate your kindness.”

He double tapped the bar with the flat of his hand and then turned to obey the summons of another customer. Glory glanced around the crowd, not bothering to pretend she wasn’t checking out the clientele. “Like I said, it’s popular here on ladies’ night.”

Angelica made a more surreptitious examination. There was warm laughter and a convivial, community feel with people grouped mostly in threes and fives and sixes. Because of that, a couple huddled close in a cozy booth caught her eye. The man was turned from her so she only saw his expertly cut black hair and wide shoulders. All his attention was focused on the slender blonde beside him who was obviously in full-on flirt. A little smile playing on her lips, she was gazing up at him through her lashes.

The big diamond engagement ring on her left finger flashed in the light from the candle on their table. A sudden pang of envy made Angelica rub at the spot over her heart. She hadn’t lied to Brett. Weddings didn’t make her go spontaneously squishy. Still, looking at those two, so wrapped up in each other...it was lovely. So lovely she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

Quickly, she looked away, embarrassed by the effect they had on her. Loneliness was to blame, she decided. Uncertainty. The fact that her foundation had swept away from beneath her feet.

“Ugh,” Glory said, turning from her perusal of the bar to hunch around her beer.

“What?”

“My dad’s here.” She grabbed Angelica’s elbow. “Don’t look! He’ll see us and come over.”

Angelica laughed because she liked Glory’s dad. He was solid and friendly and had never cheated a soul—you knew it by looking at him. “What’s the matter? Does he know you stayed out past curfew last night?”

“I wish,” Glory grumbled. Her lack of a love life was the subject of much lamenting. “There’s nobody to get naughty with. By the time I was twenty, I’d dated every decent boy in the area. And every smart girl around here knows to keep her distance from flatlanders.”

“Glory, you didn’t stay away from me,” Angelica pointed out.

“I know. We just hit it off from the first. But it’s also different because you’re another woman.”

“Still—”

“We’ve had this argument before,” her friend said, cutting in. “It comes down to this. Unless a man lives permanently in the mountains, I’m not risking heartbreak by even giving him the time of day. I’m this generation’s face of Hallett Hardware, which means I’ll be behind the register until the day I give the keys to my son or daughter. No sense falling for some dude whose life is a long distance away.”

Angelica sighed, but could hardly blame her friend for her practical outlook. When her dad had retired, only-child Glory had been given the reins to the store. It was expected she would hold them until she passed them on.

If Angelica had a place like this where she belonged, among people she’d known all her life, who watched out for her and who’d have her back no matter what—well, she’d be careful not to jeopardize that either by falling for the wrong person.

That kind of stability was what she wanted. What she’d always wanted. Close family. Trustworthy friends. A place where she could sink her roots deep.

Glancing over her shoulder, she cast another look at the happy couple. Some people had it easy. They found their partner and their place without effort. Those two had probably recognized each other by matching glows and then gracefully—and gratefully—given in to the inevitable.

Her body seized as a familiar figure strode up to the couple’s table.

Brett Walker interrupted the pair’s intimate conversation without hesitation. He lightly cuffed the back of the man’s head and when he shifted, leaned around the other guy to buss the blonde on the cheek. She bounced on her seat and pointed at a free space on the curved banquette.

When he slipped onto the cushion, Angelica told herself to look away. But her gaze refused to budge because he was actually smiling at the woman, a real smile, a free smile, that looked relaxed and warm. Everything he wasn’t in Angelica’s presence.

Then the blonde made a gesture toward the bar and it was clear what would happen next. Brett would make his way there to pick up a drink and he’d see Angelica and...

She didn’t know what would happen. She only knew she had to get away before he caught sight of her.

Murmuring something about the ladies’ room to Glory, she slid off her stool and scurried in what she hoped was the right direction. A doorway led her to a darkened hall that didn’t lead to restrooms, but instead a solid door with a sign that read Emergency Exit Only. Alarm Will Sound When Opened.

She approached it anyway, with some vague idea of hiding in the shadows there until...sometime when she felt it was safe enough to return to the bar.

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

NURSING 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.