Falling for Jillian

  Rejection doesn’t taste good twice.

  But, God, it felt divine to have his lips pressed to mine, his tongue exploring my mouth, and those large, strong hands braced on my hips, pulling me into him. Zack King can kiss.

  And I mean kiss.

  But he’s stellar at the rest of it too. The touching. The whispering. What that man can do with his mouth should be illegal.

  And it just might be.

  “What in the bloody hell are you doing up there?”

  I gasp and clench my hands around the ladder, knowing exactly who is standing below me, as if I conjured him from my thoughts.

  How did I not hear him approach?

  “You scared me!”

  “If you’d answer your damn phone once in a while, I wouldn’t have startled you.” I look down into deep brown eyes that have dark circles under them. His hair is stuffed under that beanie and his hands are braced on my ladder.

  He’s scowling.

  “What are you doing?” he asks again.

  “I’m curing cancer, Zack.” I roll my eyes and secure another plastic clip to the gutter. “What does it look like?”

  “You shouldn’t be on a ladder in this weather.”

  “It’s not snowing or raining.”

  “It’s still slippery.”

  “I’m careful.” I shrug and grin to myself. I love getting him riled up, and I can’t explain why. It’s just fun.

  “Let me do this for you.”

  “My house, my lights, my problem.”

  “Come on, Jilly, get down.”

  I shake my head no, and suddenly, strong hands circle my hips and I’m pulled off the ladder like a five-year-old.

  “What the hell!” I cry out as he sets me effortlessly on the ground.

  “I won’t have you on that fucking ladder in the middle of winter, Jillian.” He scowls down at me and I get a clear look at his face.

  He looks tired, and maybe a little sad.

  “I was doing fine,” I insist.

  “Hand me the lights,” he replies and moves the ladder. As he climbs it, I have a prime view of his spectacular denim-covered ass.

  “What are you here for?” I call up to him as I feed him the lights.

  “We’ll talk about it after we finish this. Do you just want these on the gutters, or do you want some up on the other eaves too?”

  “I was just going to do the gutters, but I have more lights. I don’t want to walk on the roof.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” he grumbles, making me grin again. “I’ll put them up there for you, if you bought enough. Just grab my staple gun out of my truck.”

  “I have a staple gun in the Christmas box.” I rummage around and hand it up to him.

  He nods and goes about the task, not saying much. I can’t help but admit that he does the job at least three times faster than I could have, and before I know it, he’s climbed up onto the roof.

  My heart is in my throat and I watch with wide eyes as he carefully steps around the eaves, stapling lights as he goes. My hands are clenched tightly under my chin and I’m whispering prayers that he doesn’t fall.

  “You can go inside, Jilly,” Zack calls down as he staples lights around a window. “I have this covered.”

  “Hell no, I’m not going inside!”

  “It’s cold out here.”

  I’m not even aware of it. It occurs to me that I can’t feel my nose or my feet anymore, and I don’t care. My eyes are pinned to the tall, handsome man on my roof.

  “I’m fine,” I reply.

  “Have I mentioned that you’re stubborn?”

  “Once or twice.”

  He laughs and shakes his head and secures the last staple.

  “Okay, plug them in.”

  I run to the porch and plug in the lights, then run back into the front yard to see them.

  “Oh, they’re so pretty!”

  “Thank God they all work,” he says as he tosses the black shoe down to the ground and then moves carefully down to the ladder. “It would be a bitch to have to take them back down.”

  “I checked them,” I assure him, and when his foot finally lands safely on the snow and he turns to me, I hit him on the arm. “You shouldn’t have done that! You took ten years off my life!”

  I throw my arms around his torso and squeeze him tightly, then back away.

  “No, you shouldn’t have been on that ladder. If I catch you on one again, I’ll spank your ass until it glows.”

  My jaw drops as I gaze up into his frustrated face. For once in my life, I’m speechless. I scowl as I pull myself together and clench my fists. “You wouldn’t dare . . .”

  “Put yourself in danger again and see if I don’t,” he replies calmly and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Did you come here to bully me?”

  He sighs and pulls his beanie off his head, pushing his fingers through the messy brown strands. I want to sink my fingers in that thick, dark hair.

  “No. I came because you won’t answer your fucking phone so I can apologize for the other night.”

  “I don’t want your apology,” I reply and throw the extra lights and staple gun back into the tote and turn away, but he catches my arm and turns me back to him, takes the tote, and sets it down.

  “I’m going to give it anyway.” His jaw is firm. “I had no right to kiss you like that in the parking lot for everyone to see.”

  I jerk back, mortified. “You’re apologizing for kissing me?”

  He shakes his head and starts to speak, but I interrupt.

  “So let me get this straight. You’re not apologizing for yelling at me, or for walking out on me that morning without a note or a word, or even for turning me on and then leaving me. You’re apologizing for fucking kissing me.”

  I’m so mortified, I don’t know what to do with myself. Before I can turn and run away from him, he catches my arm again and turns me to face him, his hands holding my shoulders firmly.

  “What do you want from me?” he growls.

  “I want you to be honest,” I reply. “I want you to look me in the eye and just tell me you don’t want me. Stop playing with me. We had sex months ago, and I was afraid it was going to make us all uncomfortable, and for a little while it did. But then it got better, and now we’re back to awkward. Zack, our families are entwined, and we’re going to see a lot of each other. I don’t want to always be on edge around you.”

  “Jilly,” he whispers, his eyes pinned to my lips. “I’m trying to apologize for hurting you. For not talking to you.”

  “You could just stay away from me,” I say and try to back out of his hold, but his fingers tighten. “We’ll be civil at get-togethers and just ignore each other the rest of the time.”

  “That’s not possible.” He steps closer and tips my chin up with his cold glove-covered finger. “That’s just it, Jill. I can’t stay away. I’ve tried for months. I know I’m fucking this up because when I’m around you, I turn into a tongue-tied idiot. I wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings and ask you to come out to the ranch tonight for dinner.”

  He’s panting like saying that was the hardest thing he’s ever pushed past his lips. He looks uncertain and vulnerable and suddenly, something in me . . . shifts.

  “You want to do dinner with Josh and Cara?” I ask uncertainly.

  “No.” He shakes his head and chuckles humorlessly. “I’m asking you out on a fucking date.”

  “And eloquently at that,” I reply dryly. He swears under his breath and backs away, and I gasp at the loss of his heat on my cold shoulders.

  “You know what? Never mind.”

  We’re still standing in my yard. This is insane.

  “Wait.” He stops with his back to me. I walk to him and stare up at him. “What about Seth?”

  “He’s staying with a friend in town tonight,” he replies.

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” I tell him defiantly. He lets out the breath he’s been
holding and laughs, and when he sobers, he pulls his gloves off and tosses them to the ground, then cups my face in his hands gently.

  “I’m not asking you to my home to fuck you, Jillian. I want to make you a meal, maybe watch a movie or bad TV, and spend some time with you.”

  “Why now?” I whisper.

  “Because I can’t get you out of my head. I haven’t slept in days because I couldn’t stand the thought that I’d hurt you. I just want to be with you.”

  “Okay.”

  He pulls back in surprise and studies me carefully. “Okay?”

  I nod and offer him a soft smile. “I’d enjoy having dinner with you. And I get to pick what we watch.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  His thumbs are rubbing the apples of my cheeks and when he leans in, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, but instead he plants his lips on my forehead and rests there for a few long seconds before pulling back and smiling at me, that dimple in his cheek on full blast.

  That dimple alone is going to be my undoing.

  “Six o’clock?” he asks.

  “Sure. What can I bring?”

  “Just you.” He stows my ladder away in the shed and carries the tote inside, setting it next to the rest of the decorations I’d dug from the attic.

  “Thank you for helping. And for the invitation.” I pull my boots and gloves off, and just when I reach for the scarf, he tugs the ends, pulling me to him.

  “I’m looking forward to it.” He kisses my forehead again, my nose, and then lays those lips on mine in a quick, chaste kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

  He pulls the door closed behind him and I sigh, watching him climb into his truck and pull out of my driveway.

  Why do I suddenly feel like everything is about to change?

  It’s raining. I swear, Montana Mother Nature is on her period. She’s all over the damn place this winter. It started to rain about a half hour ago, so the roads are just wet, but if the temperature drops, it will be emergency travel only by this evening.

  I shouldn’t go to Zack’s. I should stay home.

  So why am I pulling into his driveway?

  I park and stare at the front of the large white house that sits nestled in tall evergreen trees, draped in snow. There is smoke swirling out of a chimney. Chickens are clucking and scratching the dirt in their pen, drifting in and out of their coop in the side yard.

  Mrs. King always liked having the coop close by so she could gather eggs early in the morning.

  I grin and climb out of my car, carrying my famous angel food cake and strawberry topping, along with whipped cream, for dessert.

  Of course, I’d rather lick the whipped cream off Zack’s body than this cake, but I’ll take what I can get.

  Before I can knock, the door swings open and Zack grins widely, wiping his hands off on a green kitchen towel. He’s in his usual faded jeans and a T-shirt that says Army Strong across the chest. The sleeves are tight on his biceps as they flex with the movement of his hands, and just like that, my mouth has gone dry.

  Pull it together!

  “Hey,” I say lamely and offer him a smile.

  “Hey, come on in.” He closes the door behind me and tosses the towel over his shoulder so he can take the cake from my hands as I remove my coat, scarf, and boots and then leads me into his house. Thor comes running out of the kitchen to greet me, his tail wagging furiously, his whole body shaking with excitement.

  “Well, hello, sweet puppy. I’m happy to see you too.” I pet his ears and kiss his head. “Wow, the house is different,” I comment. I haven’t been in the Kings’ home in years; when I was a teenager Mrs. King had it furnished in feminine, soft fabrics and furniture, with handmade quilts thrown here and there.

  Now the space is more masculine, full of leather and darker tones. Zack grins as he leads me into the kitchen, which hasn’t changed much.

  “Mom and Dad took their furniture to the new place. Dad offered to buy her all new stuff, but Mom said she likes hers.” He shrugs and begins to stir something in a pot. “I needed new things anyway, so Seth and I went shopping about a month ago and picked out some furniture.”

  “I like it,” I tell him honestly as I watch him move competently about the kitchen. Thor sits next to me and settles his head on my lap. He sighs contentedly as I rub his soft ears. “It smells great.”

  “I hope you eat meat.”

  “I’m from Montana. Of course I eat meat.”

  “You never know.” He adds some garlic to a sauté pan. “You spent a lot of years in California.”

  “You know what they say. You can take the girl out of Montana . . .”

  “But not Montana out of the girl,” he finishes and leans his hands on the Formica countertop, watching me. “I know I haven’t said it before, but I’m glad you’re home, Jill.”

  I blush and look down at the sweet dog’s face. I’m not used to this side of Zack. This relaxed, honest side of him. He’s always been so intense, and I know that he doesn’t reveal his emotions easily.

  “I’m happy I’m home too.”

  “What made you decide to move back, anyway?” he asks, slipping some bread into the oven.

  My hands still for a moment and I bite my lip. I’m not going to admit that I’m here because of my cheating ex-husband.

  Not a chance.

  “It was time to come back,” I answer instead. “I missed home.”

  He nods thoughtfully, pours us each a glass of red wine, and hands me mine. “I hope you like spaghetti. It’s the only thing I make really well.”

  “I love it.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No.” I laugh and take a sip of my wine. “I love Italian food. I brought dessert.”

  His eyes warm and narrow and a smile tickles his lips, showing me that dimple. “You’ve already said that I’m not allowed to have what I really want for dessert tonight, so strawberry shortcake will have to do.”

  “You’ll live,” I reply dryly.

  He drains the pasta and plates our meals before throwing the crusty garlic bread in a basket, and motions for me to grab our wine and follow him to the kitchen table.

  “Thor, bed,” he commands and snaps his fingers, and Thor immediately curls up on the dog bed in the corner of the room.

  “He’s already trained really well.”

  “Seth has done most of the work.” He joins me at the table and grins proudly. “He loves that dog. And Thor’s smart.”

  “Mmm, so good,” I mutter with a mouth full of pasta drenched in red sauce. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  He nods and eats, watching me. “How’s business?”

  “Slow this time of year.” I shrug and take a bite of bread. “Typical. How about you?”

  “The same. We just survive winters. Things will be nuts around here in a few months.”

  “Are you glad to be back on the ranch?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I missed it. Seth loves every minute of it.”

  I glance over at Thor, whose ears have perked up at the sound of his young master’s name. “Do you ever hear from his mother?” I can’t say the woman’s name out loud.

  “No.”

  He doesn’t elaborate.

  “Never?”

  “No.” He won’t meet my eyes, and instead just keeps shoveling food in his mouth. Does it hurt him to think of her?

  The thought of that makes me ill.

  “Is the divorce final?” I ask casually and reach for my wine. His fork stills in midair and he looks at me like I’ve just asked if he’d ever consider a sex change.

  He lowers the fork back to the plate and wipes his mouth on his napkin, gathering his thoughts.

  “The divorce was final before I ever touched you.” The words are deceptively calm. His eyes are pinned to mine now, a slight frown pulled between his brows. “I would have never put my hands on you if it wasn’t.”

  I nod once and carry on as though it’s not that big a deal, but something
in me that was worried before loosens.

  When my plate is clean, I lean back in the chair and rub my hands up and down my flat belly.

  “Dear God, I’m full.”

  “No dessert?” he asks with a chuckle.

  “Not for a while. Maybe not for a month.”

  I stand and clear my plate and glass. “Are you finished?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll clean up.”

  “You cooked. I think there’s a federal law somewhere that says that the cook doesn’t clean.” I wink and gather his dishes and carry them to the kitchen. I rinse and load the dishes into the dishwasher, wipe down the countertops, and then turn to find him standing on the other side of the island, leaning on his elbows.

  He opens his mouth to speak, and just when I think he’s going to say something profound, he says, “I have plans for this kitchen.”

  “You do?”

  He nods and watches me carefully. “It hasn’t been updated in about fifteen years.”

  I glance about the homey space. “I guess it could use some work.”

  Why are we talking about the kitchen?

  “I think I might gut it and start from scratch.”

  “That’s quite a project.” I swallow hard as he walks around the island to me. I know I said no sex tonight, but frankly, if he boosted me up on this countertop and had his wicked way with me right now, I wouldn’t turn him down.

  I am a red-blooded woman, after all.

  His hand glides down my arm and he links his fingers with mine, raises it to his mouth, and plants a soft kiss on my thumb.

  “Shall we watch a movie?”

  “Sure.” My voice is high and squeaky, and I want to die. I clear my throat, but Zack grins and leads me out of the kitchen to the family room, where a huge TV dominates one wall and soft brown couches sit around the room. There are game systems situated on a unit under the TV, and controllers are lying on the ottoman, obviously left there from the last time the guys played.

  “Seth and I spend a lot of time in here,” he says sheepishly.

  “It’s a comfortable room.” I flop down on a couch slouched in the corner and prop my sock-clad feet on the ottoman. “I like it.”

  “Make yourself at home,” he says with a chuckle. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Why don’t we flip through the channels to see if there’s anything on TV?”