The Inn at Blue Hollow Falls by Kauffman, Donna (3)

The snow had already begun falling as Stevie pulled into the small lot behind the inn and parked. It was well past dark, close to midnight in fact, and the antique lamppost stationed by the stone walkway cast a soft glow over the immediate area. She loved the snow. DC had its occasional big blasts, but more years than not, they didn’t get a single flake. So, she took a moment before heading inside to enjoy the feel of the tiny, crystalline flakes landing on her upturned face.

She was exhausted, but it was the very satisfying kind of tired that meant productive work had gotten done. The first shipment of sympodial seedlings had arrived. Mercifully, so had the sphagnum moss and lava rock potting mediums. The greenhouse was now officially back in the business of creating an environment able to host new life. She and Sunny had celebrated with little paper cups of champagne. “Here’s to new life,” Stevie murmured, then laughed when a snowflake landed right on her tongue.

New life, she mused, smiling fondly as she replayed Sunny’s excited, almost nonstop chatter about her new world and why she was already deeply in love with all of it. Stevie didn’t need it explained any longer. The drive out, then up and into the rumble of the ancient hills, the snow showcasing every fold and undulation, had filled her botanist’s heart right up. She couldn’t wait to see it in the spring. And the summer. And the fall . . . oh, the fall had to be glorious. She’d already laughingly told Sunny to just put her name on the door to the spare bedroom, as she planned to be a frequent visitor.

Snowmelt trickled down her chin and into her jacket, making her squeal and duck her chin. “You might want to get your snowflake-loving self to bed so you can go be part of that excitement again all day tomorrow.” Smiling, she turned and ran smack-dab into a very firm chest. “Ooh!”

Noah took her arms before she could slip in the now rapidly accumulating snow. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.”

She grabbed his forearms to steady herself. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she said on a breathless laugh.

“Oh, I don’t know. Then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you wearing a snowflake halo.”

When she looked confused, he reached up to brush away a few of the snowflakes that had gathered on the fringes of her mass of curls.

“Precisely why I usually keep it tamed down,” she said. “I should have put my hood up.” She shook her head like a dog might, sending the frozen bits flying in every direction, including Noah’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think. Here, let me—” She reached up to dust the snow from his cheeks.

He caught her hand, holding her fingertips to his cheek as his gaze focused on hers. Even in the darkness, with the snow swirling around them, the lamp and the blanket of white made it easy to see his eyes. There was that teasing glint she’d already come to know, but now there was something else there along with it. She might be single, but she wasn’t inexperienced. She knew that look.

She just had to decide if she wanted to accept it, or deflect it. Noah Tyler seemed like a decent man. She suspected he’d back off entirely if she gave him even the slightest hint she wasn’t interested. Only that wasn’t true. She was interested. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so interested. She might have spent the past ten hours ensconced in her happy place, but Mr. Sexy Lumberjack Innkeeper had never been far from her thoughts. She’d wanted to ask Sunny about him a dozen different times, get her best friend’s insight on the man, but had decided against it and let her friend do all the talking. Stevie was only here for a short time. She had no business thinking about starting anything. But not asking hadn’t done a damn thing to curb her curiosity about him. So kiss me already, she thought now, wanting him to take the decision from her.

He seemed to be waiting for a sign from her. Polite, gentlemanly. . . and yet that twinkle of his said he could be a little naughty, if she just said yes. She could have tipped up on her toes, kissed him first to see how that went. But she was kind of traditional about certain things. “You shouldn’t have waited up,” she said at length.

“I didn’t,” he replied. His voice was a little throatier now that she hadn’t pulled her hand free. It sent a delicious little frisson of awareness all the way down her spine.

“Or I didn’t intend to, anyway,” he added. “There’s a sensor across the opening to the parking areas. Makes a little ping back in my living area, so I know when guests arrive.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. The life of an innkeeper. I could just have looked out to make sure it was you getting in for the night, then I could have very easily rolled back over and dropped right back into dreamland.” He reached up with his free hand and caught a snowflake clinging to the edge of her curls on the tip of his finger. “Only I looked out and saw this snow angel dancing in the lamplight, and I decided maybe I hadn’t woken up at all.” He put the tip of his finger to her nose, letting the flake melt there.

She’d expected him to put it in his mouth or do something else obvious and provocative. The sweet gesture he’d made instead made her giggle. And doomed any chance she had of resisting him.

“Do you shamelessly flirt with all your guests?” she asked playfully, but the truth was, she needed to know. Why, she wasn’t so sure. Clearly this was just a little holiday dalliance for him, because what else could it be?

“Oh, there is no shame in my game,” he said, making her laugh outright. He chuckled along with her. “Okay, so I’m a little rusty. It’s been a while.”

He was still smiling easily, but she saw him search her gaze a bit, as if unsure whether he should have revealed that, and that little flicker of vulnerability tugged at her heart in a way a thousand other carefully crafted seductions never could. “So, why now?”

“Because you’re you,” he said without a moment’s hesitation, as if that said it all. “How can I not?”

That made her heart not only trip, but stumble pretty badly. And she hastily reconsidered the wisdom of simply letting things progress however they might and damn the consequences. Not because she was afraid of hurting him—not that she would want that—but because he was all decent and kind and sexy and funny, exactly the kind of guy who might be able to hurt her. Wow. Slow down there, missy.

She gently slipped her hand from his. She needed to think. Clear and rational thoughts. Something she definitely couldn’t do while staring into those puppy dog–brown eyes of his. “I’m only here for a short while.”

“I know,” he said.

“So maybe it wouldn’t be wise to . . . start something.”

“I thought about that.”

“And?”

“Chances come along, and you have two choices. You can take the risk and accept that it is one.”

“Or?”

“You can think about all those bad possible outcomes and run scared.”

She smiled. “Some might call that learning from past mistakes.”

“Some might,” he said, and his lips twitched with a hint of a rueful grin that told her she’d hit close to home with that one.

“But not you,” she said.

“Maybe me,” he said, with frank candor. “My default instinct is set to run.”

She laughed softly at that. “Mine, too. You get enough bad results, you start to think maybe that’s not just the safer choice, but the wiser one.”

He nodded. “Sometimes, though, you ask yourself about regrets, and whether running from possible bad stuff ends up closing you off from ever getting to the good stuff. Self-protection comes at a cost, too.”

“Loneliness,” she said, nodding. “But I’d rather be lonely than accept the bad stuff.”

“So ‘no risk, no reward’ would not be your motto then?” he asked, teasing her gently.

“When the rewards are few and far between . . . that does start to seem a foolish mantra.”

He brushed the melting snowflakes from her cheeks. “Has it all been so bad for you, Stevie Franklin?”

“Not all bad, no. To be honest, most of the time, it’s neither. Nothing good enough to work at keeping, anyway.”

“No regrets?”

She looked into his eyes, knew he wasn’t asking flippantly, and thought about how talking with him was the most interesting thing she’d done, outside of work, in longer than she could remember. He was a man who thought about things, who lived his life with purpose, was forward looking, and embraced his world with passion. She did the same thing, had always wondered why she wasn’t meeting like-minded individuals. Surely she wasn’t the only one. Were they all taken already?

Yet, here was one, standing right in front of her, in the glow of lamplight, with snow falling around them, looking like he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. A man who thought before he acted, and waited to make sure she wanted to act, too.

Only . . . which was more foolish?

She took a step back then. Rather than look disappointed, she could have sworn he looked . . . approving. Now she was confused. Did he expect her to save him from himself? Weren’t you just hoping he’d save you from having to decide? “I live and work three hours away in the city. You’re clearly happily entrenched up here in the mountains, and I can understand why. So—” She broke off on a disbelieving laugh. “So, why are we even saying any of this?” She shook her head as she spoke, then groaned when it flung snow in both of their faces. “Sorry,” she said, even as he reached out and calmly skimmed the snow from her cheeks, making her feel sorrier still that she’d never know what it felt like to have those big hands skimming over other, far warmer parts of her body. “We . . . could both probably do with getting out of the snow and getting a good night’s sleep. I’m sure we’ll both be much more levelheaded in the morning, probably be thankful we took some time out before we . . . you know.”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping back further so she could lead the way down the now snow-covered bluestone walkway.

“Okay,” she said, and it came out sounding a little wary, but she was still confused. What was going on here? What did he want? Was he really so easy-come-easy-go? She supposed he could be that and a lot more. She barely knew the first thing about him. Except that’s not true. He’s revealed a whole lot of himself to you. Trust your gut. She did trust it. She also trusted that some distance and sleep might be a big help in clearing things up for them both.

She pulled her coat more tightly about her and took that step around him, then abruptly decided the last thing she needed was to lie in bed, tossing and turning all night, trying to figure out what it was he really wanted from her. Was a fling enough for him? It wasn’t for her. But what more could there be? Did he really expect her to just leap and hope for the best? And yet, hadn’t he said that he’d normally run if things looked too chancy? So, why come out here tonight? Why touch her and make her want things and ask her really good questions about risk and reward? And regret.

She turned back to him, and once again he was right behind her and she came right up against his chest. This time the chilled tip of her nose pressed right into the open front of his jacket, just below his throat. He was warm. And he smelled like . . . cinnamon?

This time he took her arms in his, gently, but firmly, then nudged her face up. “I’m not trying to get you into bed,” he said, as if reading her mind. She was still stuck on the cinnamon, and why that was so incredibly sexy. “I mean, yes, eventually, that would be perhaps one of the highlights of my life.”

“Noah—”

He might have groaned the tiniest bit when she said his name, and his eyes grew even darker, if that were possible. Not so much puppy dog now, she noted, but was too breathless all of a sudden to decide how she felt about that.

His voice was hushed now, and a little rough, when he spoke. “A very close friend once told me that I’d know it was right when it felt like we’d already been together forever.” He paused, probably waiting to see if she bolted outright.

She didn’t.

“I know you’re not here long. So, time is of the essence. Time,” he went on when she began to speak, “to get to know each other better. I wasn’t kidding when I said I usually choose running. I don’t jump, Stevie. In fact, for the past two-and-a-half years, I’ve stayed about as far away from the relationship cliff as I could. I also don’t do meaningless, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t occasionally tempted. Because I’m human, and living solo, after not living solo for a very long time, sucks in some departments.” He paused again, searching her gaze.

“Go on,” she said in what was barely more than a whisper. But that was all she could get out past the lump in her throat.

“I gather you don’t do meaningless, either. That is another thing I like about you.” He smiled then, eyes on full twinkle this time, and it was already a dear thing, so her heart tilted.

What he said next threatened to send it right up and over.

“So, what I’m asking for is permission to get to know you better. Life is complicated, or can be, I know, but sometimes I think we’re the ones who make it that way. I’d just like to . . . get to know you better. Whatever that ends up meaning.”

“Why? Why take that risk?”

“Because I’d regret it forever if I didn’t.”

She held his gaze for the longest time, during which she asked herself the same question. Would she regret it? She’d been instantly attracted, sure, but the more she learned about him, the deeper and more informed that attraction became. Dare she push things further? Because then what?

He swiped a melted snowflake from the tip of her nose. “I think I see steam rising from those curls of yours,” he said, his smile deepening. “All those thoughts swirling around in there. Why don’t you sleep on it?”

“Okay,” she said, quickly, before she could change her mind.

“Good,” he said, then chuckled, apparently hearing the relief in his own voice. “Good.”

“I don’t mean okay, I’ll sleep on it. I mean . . . okay.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “That’s . . . even better.”

She laughed and thought they were both a pair of relationship dorks. “Now who’s scared?”

He chuckled. “Yes, well, that whole running thing is pretty deeply ingrained. What made you change your mind?”

“My granny taught me to trust my gut about people, and that’s turned out to be one of the best things she ever gave me.”

“Right up there with putting anchovies in stew?”

She made a wavering motion with her hand. “Tied with that one. It’s pretty amazing stew.”

He grinned. “So, would I pass granny muster?”

“For now,” she said, giving him the side eye. Then they both laughed.

“Now she’s watching me, too, huh?” He glanced up and raised one hand. “I swear, I mean to be only the good kind of stuff.”

Stevie grinned at that, but her heart was on full wobble now. Oh, Granny May, I’m in serious trouble now. About six-foot-two’s worth.

He sketched a small bow and motioned her to lead the way to the inn’s rear door.

Trust your gut. Do it. Right now. She shook her head. “There is one thing we need to get cleared up first, though.”

“There is?”

“Mm-hm.” Traditions were nice, but sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do. “There are a lot of compromises one must make in any relationship, and you’re right that maybe we put way too much pressure on ourselves before we even figure out if a relationship is worth fighting for, looking for reasons to cut and run before it gets hard. Or, more honestly, before we get vulnerable. But there is one deal breaker that has no work around.” She lifted up on her tiptoes, took his head in both hands, and gently pulled it down to hers.

“And that would be?” he murmured, his eyes dark and hot again.

“This,” she said, softly now. “Because if this doesn’t work, there’s no point in figuring out the rest.” She went to kiss him, but he shifted back just enough to stop her.

“Wait,” he murmured. Then he lifted his hands, framed her face, and tilted her mouth just right. “I’ve got a lot riding on this.” He grinned, and her heart flipped right over the edge. “Can’t risk its not being just right,” he said, and did the perfect thing. Again. He kissed her.

And the kiss, it turned out, was perfect, too.