Hold Your Breath (Search and Rescue) (16 page)

Instead of responding, he just gave her
the look
. “Where’s my scone?”

“Fine.” She held up her hands in an
I-give-up
gesture. “When we’re both hanging out in the ditch later, I get to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Scone?”

“Coming. Jeez.” Pulling the covered scone out of its hiding spot behind the counter, she popped it into the microwave. “You remind me of British royalty when you demand your scone with that haughty expression.”

“Why were you keeping it back there?”

“You would not believe what I had to do to save this scone for you,” she said, placing it in front of him. “There was an accident that closed the interstate east of Rosehill this afternoon, so everyone got detoured through here. They’d been sitting in traffic for
hours
before they got to Simpson, so I had carload after carload of cranky, hungry skiers in here for about two hours straight. They ate everything.” She gestured at the empty pastry case like a game-show hostess. “Exhibit A. About twenty minutes after the mad rush started, I realized there was one—one!—cranberry white chocolate scone left. Luckily, the person ordering at the time was one of those unsweetened-green-tea types who would never, ever eat all the carbs and processed sugar contained in that scone.” She nodded toward the tiny piece remaining in Callum’s hand. “However, there was a hungry-looking snowboarder behind her, and his eye was already fixed on your scone. Being the quick thinker that I am, I pointed out the window and yelled, ‘Moose!’ When everyone in the shop stampeded to press their noses against the windows, I tucked your scone under the counter where snowboarder boy couldn’t get his grubby little mitts on it.”

Having finished the last bite of his hard-earned scone, Callum was leaning against the wall, smiling. “What’d they do when they didn’t see a moose?”

“You know how people are. Someone got a glimpse of Roger Thornton’s dog running around the back of his house and yelled, ‘I see it! I see the moose!’ and then everyone else claimed they saw it, too. It was half a Bigfoot hunt and half ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes.’”

“Isn’t Roger’s dog a beagle? How could that be mistaken for a moose?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? What matters is that you got your scone, and a bunch of city people get to tell their friends they saw a moose while they were in the mountains. It’s a win-win.”

He sipped his coffee while watching her, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile.

“What?” she asked.

“Things are not boring when you’re around,” he said, placing his mug on the counter and carefully lining it up with his now-empty plate.

“Thanks?” She grabbed his plate, ruining whatever perfect symmetry he’d just achieved, and added it to the dishpan of dirty dishes. “I’d actually kill for some boring moments right about now. Between HDG, my stalker, potentially murderous motorcycle clubs, militias with poorly thought-out names, and visits from the sheriff, I think I’m due for a few minutes of monotony.”

“Visits from the sheriff?” As always, Callum picked the pertinent fact out of her rant. “Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“Yes and no,” she said slowly, picking apart the earlier conversation in her mind. “I didn’t get any new information about HDG. He found out that Lawrence had blabbed about finding that evidence, so I think he wanted reassurance that the loose lips ended with me. I said it was in the vault, although I didn’t mention you’d visited the vault before I locked it tight.” There was some unintended innuendo to her words, but she refused to fixate on it.

“Was that all?” The smirk was gone. Callum’s expression was all stoic focus now.

“He gently warned me away from investigating HDG on my own.”

“How so?”

“He said he didn’t want me getting mixed up with the MC, or anyone who would chop off a dead guy’s head. I told him my investigation was pretty innocuous so far—although I didn’t mention the ‘so far’ part.”

“Hmm.”

Since Lou was unable to translate the hum, she asked, “Thoughts?”

He opened his mouth but closed it again when the sleigh bells jangled. Lou glared at the intruder.

“Whoa!” Derek backed into the door he’d just entered. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Don’t kill me, please!”

“What?”

He walked up to the counter. “You were giving me the face of impending death.”

“Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s not you. It’s those stupid sleigh bells.”

Glancing at the door, he turned back to her with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, I see how they’d make anyone rage-y. Are you calm now, Lulu, or are you going to spit in my coffee out of displaced anger?”

“Lulu? That’s not going to be a thing now, is it?”

“Why? Does it bug you?”

“No.” The denial came out too fast, and she winced.

“Liar. Lulu the Liar.”

She sighed, resigned to having a new, hated nickname. “I might consider the spitting thing if you annoy me.”

“I’m never annoying.” He sat on the stool two down from Callum. “Hey, brave leader. It’s kind of late for you to be out, isn’t it?”

Callum narrowed his eyes. “It’s not even six.”

“Exactly. Aren’t you missing a scheduled reorganization of your sock drawer?”

“Please,” Lou snorted. “As if his socks would ever be disorganized.”

Derek laughed. “True. Sad, but true.”

“While you two analyze the state of my sock drawer,” Callum said, standing, “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

“Good timing,” Lou said approvingly. “It’s freshly cleaned after the hordes came through here. It was not pretty after the last of them finally left. Not pretty at all.”

“Okay,” Callum said slowly. “Thank you for rectifying the situation.”

“You’re welcome.”

With a shake of his head, he walked to the restored bathroom. Once the door closed behind him, Derek turned to Lou.

“What did you do to him?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Did you get him addicted to happy pills? Did you give him a personality transplant? Hypnotism? You have to tell me, because I have a bet going with Artie.”

Lou stared at him. “I didn’t do anything to him. What the hell are you talking about, crazy man?”

“Please. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Uh…noticed what?”

“He’s smiling. All the time now.”

“He is not. He hardly ever smiles.”

“No, he hardly ever
used
to smile,” Derek corrected, pointing a finger at her. “But now you two are joined at the hip, and he’s turned into Mr. Giggles.”

“Please,” she said skeptically. “As if Callum would
giggle
.”

“Maybe not,” he conceded, “but he is smiling an abnormal amount, and on him, it’s just creepy. You know those greeting cards with a human smile stuck onto some poor puppy or kitten?”

With a grimace, she nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“That’s what it’s like, all those happy smiles on Callum’s face.” Sitting back, he frowned. “It’s not right.”

“Whatever. Are you saying he can’t be happy?”

“No, I’m saying he’s
not
a happy person. Never has been, at least since I’ve known him, and that’s been
years
. But now you have him all hopped-up on mood enhancers—”

“I do not!” she interrupted him loudly.

“You don’t what?” asked Callum, emerging from the bathroom.

“Nothing,” she said, glaring at Derek. “He’s just nuts.”

A half smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, Callum looked at Derek. “Agreed.”

“Since Lou won’t tell me,” Derek started, turning to the other man, “I’ll ask you. What’s going on with the two of you?”

Callum gave him an even look. “Is that any of your business?”

“Yes!” Derek yelped, throwing up his hands. “I’m dying to know, and that makes it my business.”

“Plus you have a bet going with Artie,” Lou interjected.

“Zip it,” Derek growled before turning back to Callum. “So…are you guys going at it like wild animals?”

Unable to stop the flush creeping up her face, Lou turned to grab a cup to hide her red cheeks. “Did you want a coffee or not, Derek?”

“Are you going to give me all the details of your torrid affair?” he asked.

“No!” she and Callum said in loud unison.

“Fine.” Derek slid off his stool. “Then no coffee. But I will find out the truth. You cannot hide good gossip from me.” With that final pronouncement, he left the shop, leaving the bells to ring in the newly fallen silence.

Lou glared at them. “I really hate those bells.”

She replaced the cup with unnecessary care, restacking it perfectly in order to avoid looking at Callum.

“Sorry,” he said, bringing her gaze to meet his in surprise.

“Why?” she asked. “You didn’t have any part in the creation of Derek.”

That brought a slight smile from him, but it disappeared quickly. “I’m the reason everyone thinks something’s going on between us.”

“Have you been bragging about getting me into your bed?” she teased, although she focused on rubbing at a nonexistent spot on the counter with her thumb. Her blush was dying to reappear, and she wasn’t sure she could hold it back if eye contact was involved.

“No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I’ve just been…ah, more cheerful than usual lately.”

“Oh.” Lou didn’t know how to respond to that. “That’s…nice?”

“It is, except you know the guys on the dive team and at the station. They’re worse than old women when it comes to gossip. They’ve noticed we’ve been spending time together and are trying to match that with my…improved mood.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, giving herself time to find the right words. “Do they? Match, I mean.”

There was a pause, during which she almost took the skin off of her thumb by rubbing the counter so hard. “I believe so,” he finally said, and her gaze snapped to his. “I find I’m happier when I’m with you.”

She swallowed. “Thanks. I’m happy to be with you, too.”

Their eyes met across the counter. Her breath caught in her chest, and she couldn’t stop her hand from reaching toward his. When she was just an inch away from touching him, though, she lost her nerve.

Before she could retreat, Callum caught her fingers.

Her gaze bounced from her trapped hand to his face as he started to lean toward her. She froze, her lungs burning with the need for air and her muscles tight with anticipation, watching him move infinitesimally closer, closer…until the sound of the sleigh bells made her jerk away.

Biting back a swearword, Lou gave the trio who’d just entered a smile that was more gritted teeth than welcome. “Hi.” Why did her voice sound like she smoked a pack of cigarettes a day? Clearing her throat, she tried again. “What can I get you?”

By the time her last customers left, it was time to close the shop. Callum had retreated into his corner, his expression as closed and unreadable as the very first time she’d met him, and she couldn’t help glancing at the tight slash of his mouth with a pang of regret. The last hour would’ve been very different if the three local teenagers hadn’t decided to walk the four blocks from their house to the coffee shop for dinner. Instead of making stilted conversation with Callum in front of their adolescent audience, she probably could have been kissing him. The thought made her smile.

“Ready?”

Lou jumped. “What? Oh! Right. Um…just a second.” She grabbed the tray from the cash register, almost dropping it in her flustered state, and then practically ran to the back where the safe was located. She took a few moments just to breathe, to calm her silly heart.

“Stop,” she commanded her brain.

“Did you say something?” Callum called from the front.

“No,” she yelled back. “I mean, yes, but it had nothing to do with you.”

There was a pause. “Okay.”

Squeezing her palms against her temples, she took another deep breath. It didn’t help. Her heart was still hopping around in her chest. Letting her hands drop to her sides, she gave up. It was time to accept the fact that she was going to behave like an idiot in front of Callum. It was unfortunate but, at the same time, inevitable.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, she went to grab the mop bucket.

* * *

Driving on the snow-packed highway finally got her brain off of Callum and his unbearably sexy mouth. At a crawl, she led their mini-convoy of two through the swirling snow. Even going impossibly slowly, she still felt the tires slide sideways as she maneuvered around a curve. There weren’t many other vehicles on the highway, for which Lou was grateful, since oncoming headlights reflected against the snow and blinded her for a few panicky seconds.

When she finally reached the turn-off onto the county road, she relaxed her tight shoulders and stretched her fingers, sore from clutching the wheel. Although the snow was deeper, the gravel beneath allowed her tires to grip the surface. Lou reached her driveway without any issues and guided her pickup into the ruts she’d already created in the frozen drifts. The new snow hadn’t filled her old tire tracks in completely—at least not yet.

After stopping in to feed her woodstove that morning, she’d left the gate open, since drifting snow had been predicted, and Lou had figured it would be better if the gate was stuck in the open position. Finally reaching her cabin, she backed into her usual parking spot with a relieved exhale. She felt as if she’d been holding her breath for the entire drive home.

Callum backed in next to her truck, maneuvering his pickup through the snow with a confidence she envied. Hopping out of the truck, she landed shin-high in a fresh mound of snow.

“If Mr. Stalker makes a visit tonight,” she said as Callum rounded the hood of his truck, “we’ll definitely see his boot prints tomorrow.” She glared at the flake-filled sky. “If this snow ever stops, that is.”

“If he does try to visit tonight,” he responded grimly, “he’ll end up in a ditch instead.”

“Hopefully.”

Moving to pick up an armload of wood, she was stopped by Callum’s hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get it,” he said, giving her a gentle push toward the door.

Her independent side wanted to protest, but it was overruled by her tired-and-lazy side, so she just thanked him and unlocked the front door.

As she held the door, he carried in a huge armload of the split logs with ease. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What?”

She closed the door behind them. “That’s the second time in five minutes I’ve coveted your abilities and/or strength.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you jealous of my wood-hauling skills?”

“Yes,” she admitted, kicking off her boots before heading for her bedroom. “And your driving-in-snow acumen.”

“Wait.” His teasing expression disappeared as he toed off his own boots and dumped the wood into the box next to the stove. “Let me check the house first.”

She gave him a go-ahead wave of her arm and returned to the woodstove. When he returned shortly, he maneuvered his body between her and the stove.

“Let me,” he ordered, his attention on the smoldering remains of the fire. She took a couple of steps back out of his way, and continued watching him for a few moments. He added wood methodically, with a precision that bespoke a well-thought-out plan. She grinned, shaking her head.

“What?” he asked, carefully placing another log.

“Just admiring your fire-laying technique. I usually use the chuck-it-in-and-hope-it-burns method.”

“That’s just wrong,” he said, although she caught a hint of amusement in his voice. “Go ahead and get changed. I know you’re dying to put on pajamas.”

He wasn’t wrong. Her flannel pajamas were calling her name quite loudly, in fact. She headed to her bedroom, leaving him to focus much too intently on the layout of the firewood.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, she started to move to the dresser when she stopped. Something wasn’t right. Sweeping her gaze over the space, Lou eyed the bed, the nightstand, the closet door, the dresser, the desk. Everything seemed to be in order and in the same semi-neat state that she’d left it, but something was…wrong.

She scanned the room again before shaking her head. First she was hearing imaginary sleigh bells, and now there was this weirdness. Lou decided she needed to hop off the bus to crazy town, change into her pajamas, and then join the hot man waiting in her living room.

Striding to her dresser, shedding clothes as she went, she pulled out some lavender flannel pajama pants with hippos wearing tutus. Instead of grabbing the matching, rather boxy top, however, she gave in to vanity and yanked a silky tank top from the drawer.

Once she was dressed, she stood in front of her mirror, tugging down her tank. Her arms and the top part of her chest felt very…bare. Despite her bottom half being encased in flannel, Lou felt naked. Losing her nerve, she grabbed a hoodie, pulled it on, and zipped it to her throat.

She headed for the door but was unable to resist checking out the room a final time. There was nothing out of place, nothing to explain why her stomach was churning.

“That’s because there’s nothing wrong, crazy girl,” she said out loud and left the bedroom.

As she entered the kitchen, she inhaled and then closed her eyes with a blissful smile. “What is that heavenly smell? Are you planning on feeding me again?”

“Dinner. And yes.”

“Is it chicken soup? It smells like chicken soup.” When she spotted the large pot on the stove, she hurried over to lift the lid. “When did you have time to make this? It took me less than five minutes to get changed. Are you some kind of cooking magician?”

“I put it together at lunch and then left it in the fridge at the station.” He leaned back against the counter, watching her with a half smile.

Picking up a big spoon propped neatly next to the stove, she gave the soup a stir. Frowning suspiciously, she asked, “Did you make this from scratch? You’re making me feel a little inferior, Martha Stewart.”

“Not really,” he answered. “I roasted the chicken and cut up the vegetables, but I used prepared broth.”

“Prepared broth?” she repeated in a mock-appalled tone, replacing the lid. “Horrors!”

He rolled his eyes at her, and she grinned.

“You got that from me—the eye-rolling thing,” she said proudly. “I’m so glad I’m corrupting you.”

“Do you want some soup or not?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I heard it was made with”—she lowered her voice to a scandalized whisper—“
prepared broth
.”

Moving so quickly that she didn’t have time to dodge, he caged her against the edge of the counter, with an arm bracketing each side. Startled, she could only stare at him as he leaned close.

“You have a smart mouth,” he said quietly, his gaze firmly focused on her parted lips.

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, not caring if she sounded brainless. It was hard to care about anything when he was looking at her like that. She marveled at how his usually cool and closed expression was now so intense, hungry. “Sorry.”

He leaned in another inch, moving his gaze slightly higher so he met her eyes. “Don’t be. It’s grown on me.”

“Yeah?” Lou realized her breath was coming in quick puffs, and her heart was drumming as if she’d just run a couple of miles.

The corner of his mouth kicked up in that devastating half smile of his. “Yeah.”

And then his lips were on hers.

When her brain had gotten away from her in the past and she’d imagined what kind of kisser Callum would be, she’d figured he would kiss like he lived—neat and organized, with structure and a need for complete control. It had been hard to tell what he was like when he had kissed her outside the library, since it had been over before she’d realized what had happened. The reality of his kisses, his
real
kisses, was nothing like she’d imagined.

In real life, the kiss was wild, spinning immediately out of control. As soon as their lips met, they both ignited, grabbing at each other as if they would launch into space otherwise. Lou’s hands found his shoulders, her fingers trying to get a purchase in the unyielding muscle beneath his shirt, while Callum cupped the back of her head with one hand. As his other found her hip, yanking her tight against him, he stepped forward, trapping her in place.

The edge of the counter dug into her lower back, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting closer to Callum, pressing against him as if she could bury herself inside of him. His teeth closed on her lower lip, sending shocks of pleasure through her, and she gasped. He immediately took advantage of her parted lips, stroking into her mouth with a swipe of his tongue, taking possession as if she and all of her body parts belonged to him.

She made a sound, low and needy, and yanked at his shirt, wanting skin-to-skin contact. In the tiny, still-thinking portion of her brain, she worried that they were going too fast. The kiss had barely started, and she was already trying to strip the man. That faint warning voice faded as she pulled his shirttails free and burrowed her hands beneath the fabric.

As her fingers met the skin over his stomach, he groaned into her mouth. Sinking his fingers into her hair, he kissed her harder, devouring her mouth. She welcomed the increased pressure, her senses torn between the feel of his mouth and the rigid strength of his abs under her fingertips.

There was no softness to him, no yielding, but that didn’t scare her. It just made her want more of him, more kissing, more touching. Her need turned fierce, and she nipped at his bottom lip as her hands slid around his hard sides to his back. His growl made her flush with heat. His muscles shifted and strained under her palms as he pinned her tighter against the edge of the counter, the pressure of his kiss dipping her into a slight backbend.

Her ears were ringing, and she vaguely wondered if that was the sign of a truly amazing kiss, until Callum reluctantly pulled away from her.

“What?” she asked, trying to follow his retreating mouth for a second, until she realized the sound she heard was his cell phone. With a groan, she dropped her forehead against his chest, where it connected with a thud that made Callum chuckle.

“Cook,” he answered his cell, the roughness of arousal still lingering in his voice. He paused. “You didn’t.”

His body stiffened with what Lou was pretty sure was irritation. Feeling slightly awkward, she let her hands slip from his shirt and took a step to the side. His free hand squeezed her hip before releasing her.

“I’d expect this from Chad or Phil, but not you.”

Even though the reprimand wasn’t directed at her, Lou hid a wince. Callum had perfected the
I’m-disappointed-in-you
tone, which was intended to create maximum guilt in the recipient.

“I’m out at Lou’s. Isn’t anyone closer available?” Although his tone was brusque, the look he shot Lou was still burning with frustrated need. “Fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He glanced out the window over the kitchen sink and grimaced. “With the road conditions, it’ll be closer to forty-five.”

“What’s up?” she asked as he stomped over to the door, where his boots were neatly placed. Melting snow still clung to them, and Lou eyed the slush a little sadly. She’d been envisioning an evening of homemade chicken soup and a cozy fire and making out with Callum. The joys of the first two paled with the loss of the third.

“Wilt put the dive van in a snowdrift.” He jerked on his coat with short, angry motions. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one disappointed by the interruption.

She frowned, confused. “Why was he driving the dive van? Did we miss a call?”

Jamming his cap on his head, Callum practically snarled, “No. He parked it in the lot so he could power-wash the station floors. When he went to drive it back inside, he miscalculated and backed it into the ditch.”

“Wow. Poor Wilt.”

“Poor Wilt?” Callum repeated. “I don’t have any sympathy for him. He’s interrupting my…evening.” His eyes, still hungry, raked over her. Lou had the urge to pull her hoodie around her more tightly, but at the same time she wanted to strip naked. Before she could do either of those things, he gave a final wordless grumble and stomped out the door.

“Bye!” she called before it closed.

Callum stuck his head back inside. “Lock this.”

She nodded.

“Do not go outside.” His light blue gaze felt like it burned her. “Do not open this door for anyone except for me. I don’t care if it’s Santa Claus. Is that understood?”

Resisting the urge to salute, Lou simply said, “Understood.”

He continued staring at her for a long second before giving her a short nod. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. If you hear anything outside, call the sheriff, but do not unlock this door.”

“Cal.” Moving to the door, she gave the hard line of his mouth a quick kiss and then gently pushed him back a step. “I’ve got it. No opening the door to anyone, not even mythical old guys. Now go help Wilt out of the ditch. Drive carefully. I’ll be fine.” Giving him a smile to soften her dismissal, she closed the door and turned the dead bolt. It locked with a solid clunk, and she leaned against the door. If he’d stayed for even one more minute, staring at her with that fiercely protective look she found equal parts aggravating and irresistible, she would’ve dragged him back inside the cabin and had her way with him, snowbound dive van be damned.