#H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks

Colbie kept a grip of Spence’s forearms and it wasn’t because she hadn’t touched a man in so long she’d forgotten how much she’d missed the tactile feel of hard, sinewy muscle beneath her fingers. Nope, she kept a grip on him because her damn dress was holding her prisoner, making it nearly impossible to move with an ounce of grace.

As if she had any ounces of grace even on good days, of which this wasn’t one. In fact, it was a rough day. She’d even venture to say it’d been a rough year, but that wasn’t strictly true. The fact that she could suddenly pay her bills without using credit cards and racking up more on her mounting debt had truly changed her life in that she no longer was constantly stressed about money. But as hard as it was for her to believe, money hadn’t solved all her problems.

Later. She’d obsess later. For now she stared up at the man who was tall, leanly muscled, and sturdy as a tree, or so it seemed, given that he was holding the both of them upright.

His hair was every shade of brown under the sun, on the wrong side of needing a cut, and seemed to have a mind of its own. His eyes behind the glasses were a warm whiskey brown, eyes that were somehow amused and kind and enigmatic all at the same time. Fascinating, she thought, and fought the urge to find a pen from in her purse and make a note. But if she could have done so without looking silly, she’d totally have done it and written tall, dark, and yummy stranger with an overly exuberant dog the size of a VW Bug.

Said dog was panting with happiness at Spence, who shook his head at her as he picked up her leash. “Next time, it’s the glue factory for you.”

The dog’s expression went sheepish and contrite, and Colbie felt her amusement fade. She knew from raising siblings with their far too many pets to count that the bad behavior never came from the animals but their owners. She tried very hard not to let her admittedly crazy personal life dictate her feelings but she had a thing, a big thing, against people who didn’t take responsibility for their actions. Like her father. Nothing had ever been his fault either. He’d always been the victim.

“Don’t you worry,” she told Daisy. “It wasn’t your fault.” Then she hiked her wet dress up to her thighs and again tried to walk away.

“I’d really feel better if you let us help you,” the woman named Elle said to her back.

She was probably worried that Colbie was a lawsuit walking. Elle herself was dressed to rule the world in a badass, gorgeous black and white suit dress with heels to die for. She’d said she was the building’s manager, and given the easy affection between her and Spence, and the shorthand way they had of communicating, there was at least some sort of relationship between them. Maybe they were a couple and Elle was feeling threatened.

Except . . . no one looking at Colbie now or even before she’d gone for a swim would consider her a threat standing next to Elle.

Maybe . . . maybe Spence was a serial killer and Elle was worried that she’d have yet another body to dispose of. Okay, yeah, so now she was letting her inner writer take over. But at least she still had an inner writer somewhere deep, deep, deep down . . .

Still, serial killer or no, she needed to let someone from home know where she was, and that’s when it hit her. Her phone. With sudden panic, she fished through the pockets of her drenched denim jacket and . . . yep . . . pulled out her equally drenched cell phone, still turned off from her flight. She went to turn it on but Spence put his hand over hers. “Wait. Let me dry it out for you first or you’ll fry it.”

Thinking of all the information in it, information that linked her to her pen name and a huge career she still hadn’t gotten comfortable with—so much that she’d literally run away from it—she hugged the phone to her chest. “I’ve got it.”

Spence and Elle glanced at each other again with unspoken questions that Colbie didn’t intend to answer. She thought of the e-mails she’d left, none telling anyone exactly where she was, just that she needed to be alone and unplugged for a few weeks.

Getting out of New York had been huge for her, and nothing short of miraculous. For five straight years she’d worked twelve to fourteen hours a day without a single break—longer if on deadline—trying to keep everyone in her life happy and taken care of. She’d begun to dream about her prepublished days when she’d been a writer by night, an eager waitress by day, soaking up everything around her like a sponge, shamelessly eavesdropping on customers, studying people, making up stories about them in her head.

She’d lost that joy and in doing so lost her ability to write at all. If she wanted to save her burgeoning career, she needed this break, needed the time away to refill her well or she’d be back to waitressing. There was nothing wrong with that but she was hoping instead to find her love of writing.

Then she’d go home in time for Christmas, at which point she’d plaster a smile on her face and get on with the insanity of her life.

“Here. You’re cold.” Spence handed Daisy’s leash to Elle and shrugged out of his own jacket and wrapped it around Colbie’s shoulders, careful not to actually touch her as his fingers drew it closed in front of her. It was blessedly warm from his body heat and she had to fight not to inhale his scent, which was some glorious guy smell.

Now that the shock of the trip and her unexpected dip into the fountain was wearing off, she realized Spence was right—she was seriously cold. Trembling with it, including chattering teeth.

She’d been in the city for all of an hour. She hadn’t even found a place to stay yet. She couldn’t imagine how many texts and voice mails were waiting for her from her mom, her brothers, her two staff members, Janeen and Tracy, and her agent, Jackson—not that she could get to them anyway with her phone possibly destroyed.

Which, actually, had its upside . . .

“I’ve got hot tea,” Elle said.

The thought of hot tea appealed to Colbie on every single level and she bit her lower lip in indecision.

“She’s got a million different kinds too,” Spence said, watching her with a hint of humor, like he knew she was arguing with herself. “She specializes in flowery and fruity shit.”

Elle sighed.

Colbie laughed but . . . “I don’t know you,” she blurted out. Embarrassed, she grimaced. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I came here to be alone.”

Elle nodded. “I get that. And so does Spence, more than anyone I know. He’d be a complete shut-in if we let him. We routinely have to drag him around with us and force him to be social.”

Spence looked pained. “I’m not that bad.”

“Wanna bet?”

He shook his head but didn’t take his gaze from Colbie. “I want you to know that you’re safe here in this building. I promise you that.”

He had incredible eyes and that combined with a killer smile, and she was sucked right in. Her problem was simple. The promises of people she loved had never meant jackshit, so she certainly couldn’t accept a promise from a stranger. And yet, her gaze locked with Spence’s, she found that she somehow wanted to.

“This way—follow me,” Elle said and started walking, Daisy trotting along after her.

Colbie stared at them. “Do people always just do what she says?”

“Always,” Spence said. “Resistance is futile. Come on, I’ve got ya.” He took her stuff and led her past the wrought-iron gate that would’ve taken her back to the street.

The irony was that she’d come into the courtyard on her way to the hotel she’d Googled only because of the fountain. The one with the crazy love legend that had appealed to the writer deep down inside her.

Ahead of them, Elle and Daisy took the stairs, which was impressive because Elle was wearing some seriously kickass heels.

Thankfully, Spence bypassed the stairwell and hit the button for the elevator.

“Your girlfriend—” she started.

“Not my girlfriend.”

“Okay, then,” she said, not sure why that sent a thrill through her. “Your dog is taking the stairs.”

“Because she’s not in danger of hypothermia. And she’s not mine either. A friend owns South Bark Pet Shop on the farside of the courtyard. To clear my head, I sometimes help her out and walk her day care clients.”

So Daisy wasn’t even his, a fact that oddly relieved Colbie. He hadn’t been shirking responsibility of his own pet.

Which meant she’d jumped to conclusions about him and she didn’t like what that said about herself. “So . . . you’re a professional dog walker?”

He laughed as the elevator doors opened. “No.”

They stepped on and he pulled out a special keycard, sliding it across the card reader as she looked at him. “Dog walking is a perfectly respectable profession,” she said.

“Of course it is. But that’s not what I do.”

She waited, but he didn’t say what he did do—and that’s when she caught sight of herself in the mirrored walls of the elevator and did her best not to gasp in horror. Her hair was so much worse than she’d imagined, and she’d imagined it pretty bad. The waves had exploded around her face and shoulders like she’d stuck her finger into an electrical socket. Letting out a shaky breath, she turned her back to the wall so she couldn’t see herself. Better.

“So where you visiting from?” Spence asked, his hair also tousled but looking ridiculously effortlessly sexy.

Where was she from? “Another planet entirely,” she said.

He did that brow arch again, which somehow with his glasses and those piercing light brown eyes was hot as hell and loosened her tongue. “I mean a life that seems like another planet from here,” she clarified.

He studied her a moment, leaning back against the elevator wall like he didn’t want to crowd her. “And you . . . ran away.”

“Sort of.”

“Are you in trouble, Colbie?”

The way he said her name did something to her low in her belly. “No.” Yes. Most definitely, yes. Her deadline was barreling down on her and instead of working on her book, she was three thousand– plus miles from home. “There were . . . things I couldn’t control in my life, so I decided instead to control the way I responded to it all. It’s my superpower.”

He smiled, and oh boy did he have a nice smile, so she returned it. “New York,” she said. “I’m from New York.”

“That’s a long way to run.”

Hopefully long enough. As the oldest sister to twins Kent and Kurt, the two brothers she’d mostly raised herself, both of whom had so far refused to grow up, she’d have liked to go even farther. And then there was Jackson, the agent who’d single-handedly put her on the map in her career. Until not too long ago, he’d been one of the most important people in her life. So important that she’d fallen for him hard, and she’d believed he was doing the same.

Oh how woefully, pathetically wrong she’d been. Remembering her humiliation over what had happened, she felt her face burn.

So yeah, she’d desperately needed to get away, and far away. After a lifetime of taking care of everyone around her, she just needed to be left alone for a little bit, needed that quite badly. Just her and her laptop and her thankfully vivid imagination.

Except it wasn’t so vivid lately, was it. Not since she’d become an entire huge franchise that she alone maintained. The pressure was killing her. Her brothers and their incessant neediness were killing her. Jackson was killing her.

Everything was killing her and she’d lost it. Lost herself.

“I’m going to ask you again,” he said very gently. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need help?”

“No,” she said and repeated it when he didn’t look like he believed her. “No,” she said more firmly. “I’m really not in trouble. I’m . . .” She sighed. “Well, what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks. I’m a fiction writer,” she admitted.

His mouth twitched. “H-E-double-hockey-sticks?”

She shook her head. “Don’t ask. It involves a swear jar and me going broke.”

He laughed. “Creative swearing. I like it. So you’re a writer. Who ran away from New York.”

“I hit a wall. I need some inspiration. I was thinking a tropical beach, but then a surprise hurricane thwarted me, so here I am. And so far it’s been the right call. On the cab ride here, I saw a gorgeous bridge, a sparkling bay, and streets lined with elegant Victorian houses.”

“And then a horse of a dog and a fountain up close and personal,” he said with a smile. “With all that inspiration, I bet your first book flies right out of you.”

She opened her mouth to correct the notion that this would be her first book. In fact, she’d written three, the first of which had a movie coming out on Christmas Day. In her mind, she’d finished off the series, but her publisher wanted to add a fourth book and they wanted it by the first of the year.

One month from now.

As a result, she felt like there was an elephant sitting on her chest. “That’d be great,” she said.

“So what do you do to support yourself while writing?”

“Waitress,” she said, citing what she’d done all through college and up until the day she’d gotten her first big deal. See? She wasn’t a complete liar. She was merely an omitter, and that was totally allowed with perfect strangers, no matter how hot they were.

Look at her learning something from Jackson after all . . .

“Do you live or work in this building?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She smiled at his vague answer. She wasn’t the only secret keeper.

“So why Cow Hollow?” Spence asked. He was still leaning against the far wall, giving her as much space as he could. Not that it mattered. He was tall, broad shouldered, and long legged. He alone nearly filled up the elevator.

“I’ve never been to San Francisco before,” she said. “And when the cabbie at the airport asked me where to, I told him to surprise me.”

This got a bark of laughter from Spence.

“True story,” she said, smiling in spite of herself because he had a nice laugh too. Contagious really, even if she could tell he didn’t do it very often. “With a name like Cow Hollow, how could I resist checking this area out? Plus he told me more about the myth of the fountain in the courtyard, that if you wish for true love with a true heart, you’ll find it.”

“Is that what you were wishing for when Daisy Duke knocked you into the water?” he asked. “True love?”

Actually, the opposite. She wanted to never be hurt by love again, but that was way too personal to admit. “I was wishing for peace and quiet for as many days as I could get. I figured any fountain with such a good reputation wouldn’t mind granting such an innocuous wish, right?”

He smiled, and like the other times, something fluttered deep in her belly. Something most definitely not peaceful or quiet. She might be cold and drenched and completely exhausted, but she wasn’t sorry. About any of it. The truth was, something about this building energized her, gave her a sense of an adventure that had been missing from her life. And that gave her a piece of what she just realized she’d been missing—hope.