Never Too Hot (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #3)(34)
Author: Bella Andre

Two years ago, everything had happened so fast he hadn’t had a chance to brace himself for the hit. Whereas this loss of everything he was, his world falling literally off its axis, was almost coming in slow motion.

But at the same time that the agony was prolonged, it gave him time to try to find something to hold on to, anything, just as long as it would keep his head above water for a little while longer.

Ginger’s arms came around him, then, and as she murmured how sorry she was, he realized the answer was right here.

As long as he could keep losing himself in Ginger, he might be able to keep the demons at bay.

Chapter Thirteen

GINGER HAD never felt the need to comfort someone as much as she did in that moment after Connor heard the bad news. She tried to think what she would want him to do if their positions were reversed, if an all-controlling organization took her paints and canvases away for good. She would have wanted to bury herself in his warmth, let her tears pour down onto his chest while he stroked her and told her everything was going to be all right.

So she’d taken one step and then another toward him and put her arms around him. Tears pricked at her eyes as she held him and although his arms came around her too, even though he didn’t push her away, after a few moments she realized he wasn’t letting loose at all, wasn’t giving in to the inner turmoil that had to be ripping him apart.

He probably just needed some time to digest the news was what she told herself as they went about their day. She drew sketches for some new paintings out on the porch; he worked on the cabin. By noon the storm had blown out of town, leaving behind brilliant blue skies and blinding sparkles across the surface of the water. But the underlying tension in the cabin was suffocating.

Even after lunch, when he’d said it was time for dessert and then lifted her up on the indoor dining table and made love to her, while the pleasure was just as intense as it had been all night long and into the morning, she couldn’t help but feel like what was between them had changed.

On the one hand, it was obvious that he needed her more than ever. His constant caresses and kisses in the hours after the phone call were testament to that. But at the same time, she felt that he’d begun to hold pieces of himself back.

She tried to tell herself that she’d only known him five days, but no matter how she spun it, any way she looked at it, his behavior didn’t make sense.

He should be yelling. Lashing out.

She still remembered how she felt that night at the auction when Jeremy had said those horrible things, how she’d finally let go of everything she’d been holding back for so long. Her smiles gave way to rage. And, oh, it had felt so good to just let it all come spilling out. Not to worry about the mess she left behind, because she was already gone. Already starting over.

And it was because Connor’s situation felt so similar — and because she already cared so deeply for him — that she wanted to call him on it, wanted to force him to grieve, to truly face what had happened, to start to come to terms with his new future.

Whatever that future held.

There had to be plenty of other people hurting for him today. His brother obviously was. And his parents, when they finally found out, would probably be devastated as well.

Thinking of Connor’s parents made her finally remember.

The love letters.

Everything had happened so fast after they’d left the workshop the night before. The kids lighting fireworks.

Kissing Connor in the rain. Thoughts of him had used up every last brain cell until now.

She needed to see Isabel. Give the stack of letters to her friend. And maybe, while she was gone, Connor might start to come to terms with the about-face his life had taken and he might be more ready to talk to her about it when she got back.

Thankfully she’d stashed the letters back in the dresser in the workshop. If she’d had them with her when they left the workshop they would have gotten soaked.

Connor saw her grab her keys and purse. “Heading out?”

“I just remembered an errand I’ve got to run.”

It almost felt like lying, not telling him that she was going to give Isabel the letters, but she didn’t think mentioning those right now would make his day any better and, at least for today, it seemed more important to protect him from any further pain.

“Come here first.”

The command in his voice, along with the sensual promise in his eyes, had her walking over to him in a semi-daze. And then, when she was barely within reaching distance, he pulled her into his arms, his fingers threading into her hair, his mouth coming down over hers. His kiss consumed her and she felt herself falling, heading further and further beneath his spell.

Finally, he let her up for air. “You sure your errand can’t wait?”

And even though a voice in her head told her that making love with him again was only helping him hide out from everything he needed to face, she couldn’t walk away. Not only because giving herself to him like this was the best

— and only — way she could think of right now to provide the comfort he desperately needed.

But, on a less altruistic note, because stealing every hour that she possibly could with him was what she most wanted for herself.

By the time Ginger walked into the diner, the old letters safe in her large purse, Isabel was just turning the sign to CLOSED.

“This is a nice surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here today. Hungry?”

“No. I’ve already had lunch.” And then some.

“What’s up?” Isabel stopped fiddling with the blinds on the windows, looked more carefully at Ginger’s face. “Is it Connor? Did something else happen since I last saw you?”

Ginger hadn’t come here to talk about Connor, but now that her friend was asking she just couldn’t hold it in.

“We… he… and then…”

Isabel grabbed her arm, pulled her over to a bar stool. “Coffee. That’s what you need. And then you can tell me everything.”

“But what about how you said I should stay away from him?”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly what I said, but you were right. Just because I have a past with his father, doesn’t mean I have anything against Connor. If you say he’s great, I’m sure he is.” She put a cup down in front of Ginger. “So how great is he?”

Ginger blushed, tried to buy herself time by taking a sip.

“Never mind. I think I get the gist of it already, just looking at you.”

But Ginger wanted to try to put what she was feeling into words. Maybe then she’d understand it better.

“It’s like something in him just pulls at me. And every second we’re together, I just…” She put her hand over her heart. “Right here. I feel him here.”