Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) (44 page)

She’d given him a lot to think about and though he could easily dismantle her no talking argument, he let her have the point she was making. They couldn’t bully each other as a way of interacting and think it would work.

So he engaged his internal autopilot and eased off the pedal. No use in making things worse. He needed a slower, steadier approach if he wanted to change the anger rolling off her in waves.

They were unloading the Explorer at the back door of the big house. She bought enough stuff to last a week. A good thing, too, because the rate at which the snow was falling kept picking up as the afternoon ticked by. The forecasters were right this time. A massive and potentially deadly nor’easter was burying the upper mid-Atlantic east coast in snow. They were in for at least 24 hours of heavy accumulation. Several inches were already on the ground and they weren’t even in the advisory timeframe yet.

“Get inside,” he told her after the last of the groceries were safe on the porch. “I’ll bring these last bags in after I gather some stuff from the studio.”

She looked startled for a moment before glancing skyward. “It’s gonna get really bad.”

“Yeah, it is.” He was making quick plans in his head. There was a lot to consider and it’d been a helluva long time since he’d been faced with a crippling snowstorm. “Listen,” he told her gravely. “Let’s be smart. You gather every flashlight you can find. Make sure there are candles—safe candles—spread around downstairs. Put all the throws and blankets in the living room just in case.”

“What are you gonna be doing?” she asked with the slightest note of worry.

Cal was surprised how manly he felt. And like, what the hell did that even mean? Protective instincts he didn’t know he had fired up. Nana Wilde put him in charge. Not only that, she made it clear that, how did she put it? ‘tessa needed a firm hand and a strong arm to keep her safe. Yeah, that was it. Well damn. Finally, something he could do.

“Ice melt by the back door. Every snow shovel and broom I can find, too. Snow blower moved closer to the stairs. I’m pretty sure Jax’ll have a tarp to cover it. More wood for the fireplace. Secure the studio.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t take the bait. She had to know there was no use in debating where he planned to ride out the storm. Matter of fact, he may have detected a flash of relief at his bold statement of fact. Not having to argue every little thing would make the next hours easier for everyone.

“I’ll make coffee,” she said. “And something to keep warm in the oven. Amy gave me a few storm-hacks in case the power goes out.”

“Charge your phone.” He handed his over. “And plug mine in too. If you have an iPad or a laptop, charge them as well.”

And then he was off. The storm darkened the late afternoon sky. Night would be here soon and he had a lot to do.

At least an hour and a half later, Cal stomped the snow off his boots on the mat in the mudroom of the big house. He was beat. An old familiar twinge in his back worried him. Hauling so much wood put him over the edge of his endurance.

What he needed was to get out of his clothes; his pants were soaked from the knees down, a quick hot shower to warm him up, two Advil and a trough of scalding hot coffee. In that order.

Tugging off the boots, he set them aside and grabbed the handle of his duffel bag. The sooner he warmed up, the better. Padding into the rear of the kitchen he watched her for a moment, enjoying the charming picture she made.

Wearing faded jeans that happened to mold to her ass like skin, and a loose fitting purple sweater hanging off one shoulder, she looped her hair in one of those twisty knot things at the base of her neck. Around her neck was an unusual long gold chain with a small half moon dangling between her boobs. A warm smile lifted the corners of his mouth when he saw her feet were jammed into a pair of thick, plush unicorn slippers.

The kitchen smelled of several things. Coffee—thank God. Cinnamon, maybe chocolate, definitely bacon and something spicy. Chili maybe?

Juggling a tray from the oven, he watched in silent fascination as she dropped it on the marble counter, tossed the potholders away and licked a couple of fingers. Leaning over, she inhaled, smiled and straightened. Whatever she was making was a success if her face was an indication.

He chuckled and did nothing to be quiet about it. Her head lifted and she looked straight at him. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

Seeing her face flood with color surprised and delighted him.

“Got carried away.” Her self-deprecating snigger made his smile bigger. “My baker bitch sister can be counted on to always have supplies at the ready. I was a goner the minute my head peeked into the pantry.”

The temptation to crowd close, ask for a guided tour of her culinary accomplishments was quite enticing. But, slow and steady, right? She was talking—it was like she forgot to be mad at him. He’d take it any way he got it. No use in spooking her.

Cal lofted his bag. “I’m soaked. Gotta change. Need a hot shower.”

She frowned. He paused, wondering what caused the sudden change. Then she spoke and the light bulb went on over his head. Mumbling about the work Jax was doing on the house, she said the master bath and the downstairs powder room were finished. But the second full bath was a work in progress. He’d have to use the shower in the master suite.

Once again, he deliberately dialed it back. Being as non-threatening and straightforward as he could, he mugged a comical face and told her, “Cool.” Dropping the duffel on a kitchen stool, he unzipped the bag and pulled something out. “And here,” he said matter-of-factly. “Stow this in the freezer. Or cram it in a snow drift!”

Uh huh. She couldn’t fool him. Cal saw the faint glimmer of a smile light up her eyes. Pulling the Noilly out next, he put it on the counter along with the jar of olives he remembered to grab from the frig. He didn’t wait for a reaction or comment. Instead, he zipped the duffel up, slung it about his shoulder and headed for the back stairs leading to the second floor.

“Give me about half an hour and then I’m gonna need a Venti coffee. Full caffeine, five sugars and a glob of cream. And not that fat-free shit you girls use. I’m pretty sure my brother doesn’t put up with that crap either, so I’m betting there’s cream or half-and-half around.”

She’d crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter—a dry smirk evident on her face. He was on the third step when he stopped and leaned down to pin her with a look.

“I like the no bra, Tesoro. When you move, the gold moon and chain twinkle so beautifully between your breasts. Thank you.”

He waited to gauge her reaction to his subtle but provocative words. She colored some more, squeezed her lush lips into a thin line and glanced down. He knew she saw exactly what he did. Standing as she was, her voluptuous boobs were balanced on top of her crossed arms. Her eyes swung to his. They gazed at each other for a long minute. Back in Rome, he’d asked her to ditch the bra when it was just the two of them. Cal liked watching her tits move and sway with every movement. Reminding her was a risky gamble, but he took it anyway. After all, it was the truth.

‘‘tessa dropped her arms. If she hoped to draw his attention away from her luscious curves, she failed. The second her arms moved, the very point of why he liked watching played out. They jiggled and swayed—his fingers itched to rediscover the fullness and weight of each delectable globe. Her nipples peaked before his eyes—as if she’d read his thoughts.

Nodding, she looked around the kitchen, mumbled “I’ll start a fire,” and ran from the room.

Every encounter not ending with her palm smacking his cheek was a victory.

They ate as the snow continued falling. Switching on a small flat screen in the corner of the breakfast nook, Ty went through the channels until landing on a local station with a breaking news weather alert. Getting snow pounded was still gonna happen, but now they were saying the winds and the chill factor might also be a problem.

A gust outside rattled the windows. Random thought—thank God she wasn’t also taking care of a pet. Having to walk a dog right about now would suck big time.

She scooted off the bench her new brother-in-law built-in to the nook and stood up. Even though it was the same house she remembered from her whole life, he’d made subtle changes—not just for comfort but practicality too. This window seating resembled the original upstairs in the master suite. It was a clever tie-in and unless you knew the nook seating was new, you’d assume it had always been part of the design.

Her snowstorm roommate said nothing. He simply looked at her, read what she was doing and followed along. In this case, she was clearing the table and cleaning up. They worked in silent tandem, relying on shrugs, hand motions and head gestures for communication. Before long, the kitchen was tidy once more.

Ty motioned to the bakery box, wagged his brows and canted his head—the universal sign of asking for permission. Not talking was getting old but she’d been adamant about not getting into it with him, so now she was stuck in a foolish pantomime.

Shrugging to indicate she didn’t care, Charlie threw the dishtowel in her hand onto the counter at the sink and got the hell out of there. In the living room, she knelt in front of the fireplace, opened the safety screen and poked the burning logs. A shower of red sparks shot up the chimney.

The heat coming from the hearth warmed her front. It reminded her of being pressed against Ty and how their connected bodies flared with heat. The explosion of sparks was another reminder. Of other things. Carnal things. The kind of stuff her mind wouldn’t let go of.

What was she doing? Jeez. It seemed like every thought she had was in some way about Ty. She wanted him. But did she want him just for the thrill his body gave? Or was it more?

They’d done the physical thing. She thought they were building a connection emotionally. She’d been wrong. So where did that leave her?

She reached for the half moon hanging in the middle of her chest. When Ty confided in her about his friend’s horrible death and how that single event changed the trajectory of his life, she felt his pain. Felt the anguish and confusion. Charlie very much doubted he’d ever been that open with anyone—even his brother.

That’s what really confused her. His candor. The way he shared his hurt. Why her if all he was doing was going through the motions of getting laid. It didn’t make sense.

Did she think about turning the tables on him? Taking what her body desperately craved? Sex without emotion. Yikes. She shivered. She couldn’t see herself like that. Her sisters didn’t sleep around just for the sake of the intimate gratification, so why would she?

Have you seen that body?
her conscience snickered.
That’s why you’re thinking about it.

And then there was that.

“I’m going to move some more firewood onto the patio.”

She jumped when his voice—deep and seductive—interrupted her wayward thoughts. A tremendous gust of wind whooshed past the house making the windows vibrate. The lights flickered. They looked at each other for a few seconds and then Charlie grabbed another log to throw on the fire and Ty headed toward the mud room.

It was going to be a long night.

Cal was aware of ‘tessa watching from a kitchen window as he stacked half a cord of logs onto an eight-foot rack with a cover that’d help the wood stay dry. Jax thought of everything. Or fuck. Maybe the rack and cover were Brynn’s idea. Wouldn’t surprise him at all. These Wilde women were something. He knew from talking with Professor Wilde that Brynn was quite proud of how well she managed the snowblower. Cal didn’t fully appreciate what that meant till he dragged the behemoth machine out of the shed.

The last of the wood was piled and covered right about the time the biting cold and furious winds made him into a human icicle. This weather was brutal, man. He was gonna have to update his wardrobe in favor of warmth ‘cause the shit he had on wasn’t working. Fucking cheap ass flannel. What he needed was some mountain man lumberjack stuff. Manly man gear—if he was gonna survive.

A howling squall of snow and wind battered the house. The lights did more than flicker this time—they dipped low, arced a few times and slowly came back to full power. All of a sudden a tremendous cracking noise got his attention. He grabbed the flashlight and shone it out into the back of the clearing around the yard. A rather huge limb was down, blanketed in the heavy wet snow.