Page 6 of Rocky Mountain Desire
All he could picture was her with nothing but tiny seashells covering her breasts.
“Matt. Good to see you. You’re a little late to join the quilting bee, but if you want, I’ve got a lovely printed panel you could start on.”
He hoped the heat flushing his face could be excused by the laughter in the room. “I think the family woodworking business is enough of a crafty task for me. Last thing I sewed on was a button, and I was bleeding like crazy by the time I was done.”
Hope stepped to the side at the same moment he did, and they bumped. He caught her before either of them fell, the heat of her body drawing him like some strange magnet. The sensation was far too familiar and far too tempting.
He didn’t want this.
He was surprised she didn’t knee him in the groin.
Hope wiggled from his grasp and stepped back, teetering until she found her balance. “Sorry, I’m very clumsy at times. Two left feet.”
Not clumsy when she was shaking her ass on the dance stage.
Matt pulled himself together. “No, totally my fault.”
She wore a sweet scent. Something mild and flowery, nothing at all like the stronger spicy perfumes Helen had always worn. He took a deeper sniff before he was even aware he was doing it. Hope’s eyes widened, and she paced back farther, opening the space between them. A momentary rush of disappointment hit that he wasn’t willing to admit to anyone, least of all to himself.
Not that he deserved any better after their surprise meeting last summer. She’d never returned his calls, never let him apologize properly, and he didn’t blame her one bit.
“I’d better head home.” Hope’s gaze skimmed past his, then she busied herself grabbing bags and piling material into heaps. “If you ladies need anything this coming week you be sure to call. I can coach you over the phone if you want, if you can’t wait until you make it into the shop. I know you’re eager to finish these projects in time for the holidays.”
Marion Coleman spoke up. “Matt, help carry her things. It took three trips for her to bring it all in.”
“Oh no, Mrs. Coleman, that’s fine—”
“Of course, I’ll help.” Matt tugged the bags from her grasp. “I’ll nab my boots and coat, and meet you at the front door.”
The panic on her face vanished almost as quickly as it arrived, and she smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Matt dropped his handfuls by the front door then pivoted to fetch his shoes from the downstairs entrance that all the Coleman males still used out of habit. Only as soon as he turned, he smacked right into Hope, and once again, ended up catching hold to prevent her from falling.
The soft material of her T-shirt under his fingers felt way better than it should. And the thoughts that raced through his mind were of dragging his hands off her arms and around her waist to tuck her tight against him to see if she was as good a fit as he remembered from their brief tangle outside the door—
A tiny gasp escaped her. That only brought his attention toward her mouth, shiny from some type of lip-gloss. She smelt so damn good, and if the noise from the living room hadn’t reminded him where they were—standing in the front hall one corner away from the sight of the most vocal gossip line in the area—he’d have been tempted to further his mistake from the summer to discover what flavour she wore.
Instead he decided to bluff. Had to, or this situation would drive him mad.
He winked. “I think we’re both having troubles keeping our balance today. Not enough caffeine?”
Hope nodded. She seemed as eager as he was to change the topic. “Or too much. I drank a lot in the shop today to stay warm, and your mother served tea and coffee all night. I might need to switch to decaf the next time.”
It was as good an excuse as any. Matt hurried down the stairs, donned his winter gear and used the side path to get around and meet her at the wide front entrance to the family ranch house.
The long, low building was set into the hillside, with the walkout on the back giving the illusion from the front of a single-level home stretching across the land. With the Christmas lights strung along the eaves, twinkling white lights that his mother insisted go up the first of November, the darkness was warmed with a cheery brightness.
Nothing could change the fact it was as cold as a witch’s tit. His breath didn’t just fog in front of him, it clouded in heavy dregs, or would have if the wind didn’t whip it away in a rush. Hope was already on her way back from her first trip, the cleared path of the sidewalk showing a good three feet of snow piled high on either side. She’d started her car, puffs of exhaust streaking behind it like dragon smoke.
“You were supposed to let me help you.” Matt opened the front door for her and she stepped in, smiling cheerily.
“As your mom said, it’s a three-trip job.” She pointed to a pile. “If you get that, I’ll take my sewing machine and purse.”
Matt scooped up his load with ease. He listened for a moment. The chatting in the living room had resumed. “You need to say goodbye to anyone?”
She shook her head. “I did while you were gone.”
He followed her out the door. Why did this feel so prickly? She was a friend. Other than that one weird incident from last summer hovering over them, there was no need for this awkwardness. Hell, for years he’d thought she’d end up his sister-in-law. There was no reason for the strange twisting sensation in his gut.
