Falling for the Firefighter Page 4

  “Evander thought you were armed,” Daphne said gently, taking the towel from Hailey and dabbing at the water on JC’s chin. Simone found herself moving closer, resisting the urge to elbow her friend out of the way so she could take over the gentle ministrations. But instead of allowing Daphne to help, JC took the towel, swiping it along the back of his neck where the water was trailing into his snowsuit.

  “You should get out of that,” Simone said, her voice cracking. She coughed to clear her throat. “Let it dry.” She shrugged when his eyes met hers, and glanced toward the windows, to see the snow still coming down, sticking to the glass. Going out with a wet base layer wasn’t smart. Even she knew that. She crossed her arms so she wouldn’t be tempted to help him strip.

  Daphne passed JC the envelope that had been knocked from his grip during Evander’s tackle. “This is yours. I’m Daphne. Daphne Summer. I think you know my sisters.” She made a quick round of introductions, starting with her sisters, their men, and then Tigger and Dot before completing the circle with Simone.

  Her and JC’s eyes locked and she had to glance away, not trusting herself not to stare, not to reveal her longing. She’d dated men like him before and it had always ended with the guy dumping her, leaving her with a broken heart, because under all the macho bravado he didn’t have what it took to be with a woman who was strong and independent.

  JC waved the envelope, leaning forward to brace himself with an elbow on his knee. “It’s for Evander.” He tentatively probed the back of his head.

  Simone had a perfect view of JC’s broad shoulders and the way his torso tapered down to his waist, evident even under the bulky snowsuit. Her need to memorize his every detail made her feel as though she’d never seen a man before, and she forced herself to look away once again.

  “What is it?” Daphne asked, turning the envelope over in her hands before handing it to Evander, who snatched it, quickly tucking it in the back of his jeans.

  “What do I owe you for delivery?”

  “Say thank you!” Daphne scolded, arms crossed.

  “Thank you,” the bodyguard muttered.

  “It’s already covered,” JC said, sending more shivers trickling down Simone’s spine. He needed coffee so he’d wake up and lose that bedroom quality to his voice. What were the chances there was still some left here from the summer?

  “What is it?” Daphne asked again.

  Tigger’s eyes lit up. “Is it a super bright fairy light to help me sleep at night? You promised you’d get me one and it’s almost Christmas. Can I open it? Can I?” She began bouncing, snagging Evander’s arm. “Mom, you said I could open one present tonight and I choose that!”

  “It’s not big enough to be a super bright fairy light,” JC mumbled. “The wings would break off.”

  “Maybe it unfolds and pops up when you take it out of the package,” Tigger replied.

  “You know what a super bright fairy light is?” Simone asked Josh, suspicion edging into her mind. If she had no clue what it was, how did a big tough guy like him know? Did he have kids?

  Of course he had kids. Practically everyone their age did.

  Except her. But she was getting there, wasn’t she?

  “Let’s have supper before we worry about any gifts, okay?” Daphne cast Evander a curious look before heading to the kitchen with Hailey and Maya to set out the picnic supper.

  The bodyguard pulled on a down jacket and excused himself to go to the outhouse, where Simone suspected he’d check out the contents of the mystery envelope in privacy.

  “What’s in it?” she asked JC as soon as he’d gone.

  The man merely shrugged. He attempted to stand, saying his sister was waiting, but his legs gave up on the task, sending him reeling into Simone, who caught him and plunked him back on the couch. Holding him, even through his thick, padded outerwear, felt too close, too intimate, too tempting and therefore dangerous.

  “I dunno,” she said skeptically as she blocked him from trying to stand again. “You don’t really seem up to it and I think Polly would rather have you wait a few minutes before going out across the lake. Alone.”

  “Totally,” Tristen’s daughter agreed. Her streak of green hair fell into her eyes and she flicked it out of the way. She’d been quietly sitting at the edge of the room, watching, and Simone had almost forgotten about her.

  “Do you have a bump?” Simone asked, holding herself back from checking his skull.

  “Yeah,” JC said, his fingers diving into his hair to check.

  “We need to ice it,” Melanie murmured. She zipped into the kitchen for a plastic bag, then filled it with snow off the veranda.

  “You shouldn’t drive,” Dot said.

  Simone nodded. “We can give you a ride back later.”

  “I need to get my sled home. I promised my mom a ride tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll get it tomorrow,” Simone said, taking the cold pack from Melanie and awkwardly offering it to JC. She almost caved in to the desire to apply it herself, to sit close and nurse him back to health, maybe even allow herself to brush up against his muscled arm.

  Which, once again, told her the hormones were working.

  “I’ll have the helicopter come get you,” Connor MacKenzie said, pulling out his cell phone. The man had once been nicknamed the King of Toronto and was now starting a whole new business venture with his bride, Maya. Lately it seemed as though the two of them were closing million-dollar deals each month. They were impatient types, having eloped only weeks after they met. However, it was definitely working for them so far. They were already ahead of the game by decades. “You should have a doctor take a look at that bump.”

  “Is it bleeding?” Dot asked, her voice filled with both awe and disgust.

  JC shook his head.

  “Do you remember what happened?” Simone asked, sitting beside him. His pupils appeared to be the same size, but that didn’t rule out a concussion. You didn’t lose consciousness for nothing.

  JC thought for a moment, then said, “I remember walking up the path and seeing everyone in the cottage, and then waking up inside it.”

  Simone shared a look with Finian, who drew in a long breath. He turned to Connor. “Got any cell coverage?”

  The other man shook his head, adjusting the neck on his tan, cable-knit sweater. Finian checked his own phone before pocketing it again.

  “I thought there was a cell signal booster here?” Simone said, a sliver of panic shifting to the forefront of her mind. While she found it relaxing being on the island, as she never seemed to feel the need to compulsively check her email, she didn’t like the idea of being entirely cut off from the outside world. She had a lot of skills, but winter survival in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one of them.

  “That was over on Baby Horseshoe,” Finian replied.

  Right. And when Finian, Connor, Tristen, and Evander had banded together to buy the island from Daphne’s ex and the developer Rubicore, the previous owners had taken everything that wasn’t tied down before they turned over the keys.

  “I bought one for here,” Connor said, “but I lent it to a friend for his hunting cabin and haven’t got it back yet.” He gave an apologetic frown.

  The group grew silent, the only sounds the crackling of burning logs and Hailey, Daphne, and Maya laughing in the kitchen as they prepared supper.

  “I’ll head up the hill and see if I can get enough signal to call a helicopter in for you,” Connor said to JC.

  The injured man stood. “I’m fine. A helicopter isn’t necessary.”

  “You bothered by helicopters?” Connor asked, sizing him up.

  Simone watched the two position themselves. Cockfights. She hated them. Alphas seemed to get their noses out of joint for the silliest reasons.

  “I’m fine with them even when I’m jumping out of one and into a forest fire,” JC replied. “I just don’t want to put you and your pilot out in a storm on Christmas Eve for a small bump on the head.” As if to illustr
ate how minor it was, JC tossed the bag of ice on the nearby coffee table and tugged the zipper of his suit up to his chin. “Thanks, but I’m heading out. Merry Christmas.”

  Finian headed him off. “Let’s eat first. Give you a minute to clear your head. That was quite a fall.”

  Connor grabbed his parka off a coat rack and headed for the door as Evander came in, brushing large drifts of snow off his shoulders, his cheeks rosy.

  “Bad weather coming in,” JC said, eyeing Evander as he moved closer to the door. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’d better make a move while I still can.”

  “I doubt anyone is going anywhere soon,” Evander said, his voice low and commanding. “I just about got lost returning from the outhouse. There’s not much in the way of visibility.”

  “What? It was fine five minutes ago!” Simone protested, moving to the window. The idea of not being able to make a run to the outhouse caused the several cups of coffee she’d drunk on her flight home to slosh inside her. Talk about timing.

  “Go in pairs if you’re heading up the hill in the dark,” Melanie said, entering the room with her sisters. “Supper’s ready.”

  “Nobody’s going anywhere,” Evander declared.

  Josh winced as he put on his helmet. “I have a GPS. I’ll be fine if I move fast.”

  “Could you see the cottage lights from the outhouse?” Connor asked the bodyguard, one eye on JC, who was buckling his chin strap.

  “Once I was close, but there’s no way you could see them from up the hill. Or from down by the boathouse, for that matter. Not through what’s almost a total whiteout.” He gave JC a pointed look, knowing the man had left his snowmobile down there.

  “We could use rope to guide us up the hill so we don’t get lost,” Finian said. “In my film Man versus War—”

  Hailey gave him a playful squeeze. “Okay, Mr. Movie Star. No need for cinema references.”

  “Yeah? And who had my poster above her bed as a teen?” he teased.

  Hailey blushed, pinching him. “Watch it or I’ll photograph you in a compromising position.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He carefully scooped the pregnant woman into his arms. “At least we don’t have to worry about paparazzi if we’re snowed in.”

  Simone noticed how JC caught the cuddles out of the corner of his eye as he surveyed the weather from the French doors. An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t quite understand. Was it envy or discomfort?

  “Will the helicopter be able to fly in this?” she asked. It didn’t sound safe for JC to go zipping off across the lake in this weather, nor for him to ride in a helicopter—an aircraft they couldn’t even call in.

  He opened the door and a gust of wind blanketed him in snow. He closed it again and looked back at the group.

  “Come on, let’s make ourselves useful and look for rope,” Finian said to Connor, Evander, and Tristen.

  “The bin in here has extra boat lines, it might have rope,” Melanie said, leading them into a bedroom off the living room.

  JC, his hand still on the door, watched the snow come down for a moment before reaching over to tap the single-paned window. “We should close the shutters. We’re losing a lot of heat.” He headed outside and quickly started latching the wooden panels over the windows.

  “Are we stuck?” Simone asked when he returned, stomping the snow off his boots.

  “Overnight would be my guess.” He tugged the curtains over the French doors.

  “Overnight,” she echoed, wrapping her arms around herself. Snowed in on Christmas Eve without her morning dose of hormones?

  Not on her life.

  There had to be a way out of here before then.

  “I’m sure it’s just a cloud giving us little dose of powder for a perfect white Christmas. That’s all.” She stood straighter. Mother Nature wasn’t going to mess with her plans. She couldn’t. They were women. Women had to stick together. It was a rule of sisterhood.

  JC turned, tripping on a small area rug with his large winter boots. He swayed like a leaf in an autumn wind as he fought for balance. Simone wrapped her arms around his waist, supporting him. He smelled of snow and snowmobile exhaust. And something else she couldn’t put her finger on, but wanted to continue inhaling. Forever.

  JC tried to sit on a nearby chair, taking Simone with him. He apologized as she scrambled off him, his hands brushing her sides as he tried to help steady her.

  Electricity and need zinged through her and she stood, cheeks heated. This man… This man was way too tempting, especially in the state she was in. She wanted to sit in his lap and kiss those wonderful lips of his, feel the scrub of his five o’clock shadow on her cheeks. Wanted to hear his body sing along with hers.

  She fanned her face. “It’s warm.”

  His steady gaze watched her. “Right.” He slowly unzipped his snowsuit and Simone had to look away, certain he was teasing her, that he knew the impact his body was having on hers.

  She cleared her throat and glanced around the room. It was empty. Everyone had left to go fill their plates or find rope, leaving her with JC as though he was her personal gift from Santa.

  She glanced back at the man, who gave her a lopsided, amused grin.

  Honestly, she’d rather have a lump of coal.

  Simone watched everyone break into couples to enjoy their picnic supper in the spacious, open living room, Dot and Tigger laying out a blanket for their own meal. The men hadn’t found enough rope to try and make their way up the hill to see if they could wrangle service out of their phones, but Simone was fairly certain the storm would blow over soon. It had to.

  In the meantime, the living room had plenty of seating. The only person sitting alone was JC, and after looking around at all the lovebirds, Simone reluctantly settled in the armchair beside him, facing the large fireplace. Even though JC was the kind of man she avoided, sometimes, when you were unlucky in love, sitting with lovebirds hurt.

  “How’s the head?” she asked. He hadn’t thrown up and didn’t seem confused, which she took to be good signs. He’d removed his snowsuit and she had to work to train her attention away from the span of his broad shoulders. Whenever she wasn’t focused on something such as the wooden snowshoes above the mantel she found herself taking in his pure manliness like a woman who’d been deprived of— Nope, she was not heading off in that forbidden direction again. This was JC. He was a big macho jock type who liked thought-free bimbos. He was the exact opposite of what she was looking for and vice versa. Not that either of them were looking for something that sizzled between the sheets, anyway.

  Brain?

  Yes.

  Shut up now.

  “Bit of a headache,” JC replied.

  “Stick your head in the snow. That should help,” Maya suggested from her spot across the room, where she was tapping away on her laptop.

  That’s what Simone was going to need if she kept thinking—a snow bath to cool her jets.

  “Helpful and oh so kind,” Hailey quipped.

  Simone nodded in automatic agreement, even though she believed JC had no right to look so tempting, and should be punished for it—preferably by something cold and unpleasant.

  “She’s not the most nurturing of the group,” Hailey added, giving her sister a glare.

  “What?” Maya said. “It was a good suggestion. Cold will reduce the swelling, which will help decrease the pain.”

  “I’ve got something for that,” Simone said. She pulled her purse out from under the couch near the armchair she was occupying. She’d almost brought tomorrow’s hormone dose with her, just in case, but had been worried one of the sisters would see it in her purse and ask questions she wasn’t ready to answer. But now she was more worried about the possibility of missing the shot entirely and wasting another month by falling off the schedule again.

  She couldn’t explain why, but she was afraid to tell the Summer sisters she was going it alone on the baby front. Maybe it was because she’d waite
d too long to broach the topic and was now in so deep they’d feel hurt by being excluded from something so big. She’d wanted to confide in them when she’d found out about her ovaries in early October, but it had felt so minor compared to the loss of their mother. So she’d waited. But then there had been Hailey’s pregnancy announcement, Maya’s elopement and Melanie’s wedding plans… It had all felt as though Simone’s petty sorrows and stubbornness in wanting to carry her own child would simply be seen as her being selfish, wanting her own way and trying to get attention or pity instead of sharing in the joys of their lives.

  And honestly, it wasn’t a big deal to be trying this avenue. Couples did it all the time without announcing it to the world. Besides, she wasn’t even sure it would work—it hadn’t last month, so why make a big fuss of what might possibly turn out a dead end?

  But if it did work…

  Two months. There would be only two months age difference between her half sibling and her child. They would share the same milestones, and anyone who could perform elementary math would realize that Simone had gotten herself knocked up right around the time her father made his big announcement. It would look as though Simone was in a desperate bid against her stepmother for her dad’s attention, even though she’d just spent three months adjusting her life priorities, consulting, researching, and going to doctors and fertility clinics. She’d undergone a multitude of invasive tests, filtered through donors, and was weeks into preparing herself, as well as dealing with side effects, but what would it matter in the end? They were going to have a baby first.

  Simone handed JC the bottle of acetaminophen, thinking she might have to pop one, too, if the pressure in her head continued to intensify.

  “Thanks.” He shook out two and handed back the bottle, then flinched when the logs in the fireplace shifted, sending off sparks and causing him to drop the pills onto the area rug. He muttered something about needing to get out of the business, and retrieved the tablets from the floor.