Chapter 4 Ella
Four
Ella
When I blink my eyes open the next morning, it takes me a minute to remember where I am.
I’m in a strange bed, wearing a strange shirt, in a room I don’t recognize.
And then in the space of another blink, it all comes back to me.
The party. My parents trying to sell me off to the revolting Bradford. Driving in the snow. Crashing my car.
Jack.
I roll over in bed as butterflies erupt in my stomach at the thought of my delicious rescuer.
When I first saw him through the window, I thought I was hallucinating.
That I’d hit my head and had conjured up the image of the sexiest, most mouthwatering man on the planet.
He’s got to be at least 6’5. He’s huge, with these massive broad shoulders and big arms, thick with muscle.
I’m not sure how old he is. Maybe 40ish?
Old enough to be ridiculously hot, anyway, especially compared to guys my age.
His hands are big and rough, not soft and delicate.
And he’s got this hair. It’s thick and wavy, short on the sides and a bit longer on top.
There’s a bit of gray at his temples, but otherwise, it’s a rich, dark brown, shot through with reddish gold.
And his eyes. They’re this warm brown with flecks of gold, with these little smile lines that fan out around them when he smiles. He’s clean shaven, with a jaw that looks like it was chiseled from granite. Full lips, perfect teeth, perfect smile. Perfect everything.
He’s beautiful.
I want him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted a man. Which is why I practically shoved my pussy in his face last night, just to see what would happen. It was worth it to watch his jaw bunch and flex, to see his eyes go molten and his nostrils flare.
There are sparks between us, and even though I’m the definition of inexperienced, I’m pretty sure Jack feels them, too.
And more than that, I trust him, even though he’s practically a stranger. I can’t explain it. But there’s something about fire chief Jack that just feels so intrinsically right that I wouldn’t dare question it.
I sit up slowly in bed, taking stock of my body. My upper back is a bit stiff, my low back a bit sore, but other than that, I’m okay. Honestly, I’m lucky to be in one piece. Lucky Jack came along when he did.
Funny how I ended the worst day of my life feeling lucky.
I stretch carefully, and when I breathe in, I can smell bacon and coffee. My stomach rumbles—I never did get anything much to eat at the party—and I swing my legs out of bed, padding to the window. I open the plaid-printed curtains and suck in a small, surprised gasp.
White. In the distance, I can see the very tops of the mountains, but everything else is white, with snow swirling in every direction. A gust of wind sends flakes pelting against the window pane, and I take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the stark brightness.
I’m trapped here, and yet I’ve never felt more free.
I look around for the pair of socks Jack left me and pull them on over my cold feet, giggling when they come up to my knees, and then step out of the room.
Jack’s house is cozy and warm, with hardwood floors, beamed ceilings, big windows, and stone finishes.
It’s lived in and homey, with slightly worn furniture, framed photos and knickknacks as decor, and the air smells like real food and firewood.
It’s the complete opposite of my parents’ house, with the marble floors, hushed silences, vaguely floral air and cold… everything.
It’s pure insanity that I feel more at home here than I ever have in the museum-like mansion I grew up in.
I don’t know what to make of that feeling, but I know I like it.
I like Jack. I like his voice and his smile and the way he looks at me.
I like the way lines dig in across his forehead when he’s worried about me.
I like the way he made me tea. I like his truck.
I like his house. I like how big he is. I like his muscles.
And more than anything, I like how I feel here. Safe. Sheltered. Cared for.
I pad down the stairs, the wood creaking softly beneath my feet, and I follow my nose to the kitchen.
Wham’s “Last Christmas” is playing from a speaker on the counter, and I nearly moan at the sight of Jack.
He’s standing at the stove in a pair of low slung gray sweatpants and plain white t-shirt that clings to his muscled frame.
I’m making a little mess in my panties watching the way his biceps pull against the thin cotton, the way his round ass fills out his sweats.
He’s frying bacon and eggs with a practiced ease.
He’s so competent. So calm and in charge. So fucking hot that I might melt into a little puddle right here on the spot.
He glances over his shoulder to find me ogling him from the doorway. The corner of his perfect mouth kicks up when he sees me. “Morning, sweetheart.”
It wrecks me a little every time he calls me that. I never want him to stop. Which, I mean…how would that work? I’m not even entirely sure where Honey Ridge is, but I’m ready to pack my bags if it means a shot at Jack.
Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe I did hit my head yesterday. Because I feel all light and bubbly and I’m thinking all these crazy things.
“Morning,” I say, watching his forearms bunch and flex as he slides the bacon and eggs onto waiting plates.
His hands are so big. Big enough that he could snap me in half. Big enough that he could probably toss me right over those mountains outside. Big enough that I can’t stop thinking about how good they felt on me yesterday during his little examination.
He sets the empty frying pan down and puts our plates on the table, then shoves a hand through his hair, leaving his waves slightly disheveled.
“The roads are closed because of the storm. I called a buddy in town, and we’ll get your car towed as soon as the snow clears. But it might be a couple of days.”
I’m not surprised, given what I saw out my bedroom window, and I nod as I sit down. “I guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”
He smiles, his brown eyes lighting up. “I guess so.”
I lick my lips, a sudden bout of nerves charging through me. “Thank you again,” I say. “You didn’t have to…to…” For some reason, I struggle to get the words out. But Jack just shoots me another one of those panty-melting smiles.
“It’s really no big deal. Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Fixed like the tea? Nice and beige?”
I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “You’re a fast learner, Jack…I don’t even know your last name.”
He grins at me over his shoulder as he pours two cups of coffee. “Carter.”
“And, um, how…how old are you?” I can’t think of a less awkward way to ask my question.
“Forty-five. You?”
I can’t explain the thrill that charges through me at how much older he is. But it only makes me even more attracted to him, I know that much. “Twenty-two.”
I swear I hear him curse under his breath before he sets down the coffees and sits down across from me at the small table.
“And it might not feel like a big deal to you, but…it is to me. It’s been a long time since anyone gave a shit about me.” I don’t mean to say that last part, it just sort of falls out of my mouth.
He frowns. “That have something to do with what you were running from yesterday?”
I roll my lips inward. “Yeah.” That’s the last thing I want to talk about this morning, though, so I quickly change the subject.
“So, what’s it like being a fire chief?” I ask, twirling a piece of hair around my finger.
“Is it super stressful?” I take a sip of my coffee and watch as Jack thoughtfully chews his bacon.
Jack looks up, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s a lot of responsibility, but I love it. I’ve been in fire and rescue for twenty years, chief for the past five. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” I say, genuinely impressed. “Do you ever do anything like those firefighter calendars? You know, the ones where they pose with puppies and kittens?”
He nearly chokes on his coffee, his eyebrows shooting up. “What?”
I can’t help but giggle. “You know, the ones where they’re all shirtless and oiled up. For charity, of course.”
Jack sets down his mug, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Are you asking if I’ve ever posed shirtless for a calendar, Ella?”
I shrug, feigning innocence. “Maybe. I mean, it’s for a good cause, right?”
He leans back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ve never done a calendar, no.”
“Well, if you ever need to raise money for the department, you should consider it. I’m a bit of a firefighter calendar aficionado, and I think you could make a killing.”
His lips twitch. “A firefighter calendar aficionado, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m a total expert. If they put you on the cover, it’d be a runaway success.” I take a bite of my breakfast. “You’d make a lot of, um, kitties, very happy.”
Jack chuckles, the sound making heat pool low in my stomach. “Oh, yeah? Seeing me all oiled up and shirtless would make kitties happy?”
I blink innocently at him, a smile curling my lips. “I mean, I know mine would be ecstatic.”
He blushes and laughs, the sound rich and warm. “We still talking about animals, sweetheart?”
I shake my head, my own cheeks heating as we flirt back and forth. My heart is going crazy in my chest because even though I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s too old for me, he’s flirting right back. “I thought we were talking about charity work.”
Jack’s smile widens, and he reaches across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin tingles where his fingers graze it. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
I grin, feeling a surge of confidence. “The good kind, I hope.”
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as our gazes snag and hold. “The very best.”
The wind howls outside, sending flakes swirling against the windowpanes, and it feels like Jack and I are the only two people on the planet. Which reminds me of a question I need the answer to.
“So. It’s just you here? You live alone?” I ask, then take another bite of my breakfast.
Jack sips his coffee and nods. “Yeah. Just me.”
“And, um.” I lick my lips and glance down at my plate. “No, uh…I mean, do you have a…a…” My face is on fire.
A slow smile spreads across Jack’s face. “I don’t have a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Boyfriend?” I squeak out, and he shakes his head.
“I’m single and straight, for the record.”
The relief I feel is a palpable thing, pulsing in my chest along with my heart. Because the truth is that I like Jack. A lot. A looootttt. Which is probably a bad idea given that I’m not from here, that I have an insane, awful family, and that my life is a bit of a mess right now.
“What about you?” he asks, taking a bite of his bacon. “Boyfriend back in Edmonton?”
I shake my head quickly, images of my apparent fiancé-to-be flashing through my mind and making me shiver. “Nope. No boyfriend.”
Our eyes meet, and something passes between us.
I don’t fully understand what it is, but it’s hot enough to chase away my momentary chill.
A warm, homey quiet envelops us, permeated only by the Christmas music playing from the speaker and the snow pelting the window.
Soon, we’re finished our breakfasts, and Jack clears our plates, rinsing them and slotting them into the dishwasher.
I’m used to opulence and luxury, but I love the simplicity of everything here.
The closeness. It’s cozy and warm in a way I’m not used to.
“Do you want a hand?” I ask as Jack starts filling the sink with soapy water.
He shakes his head. “I’ve got it, sweetheart.
Why don’t you go find something warmer to wear in my closet upstairs?
You can borrow anything you want.” His eyes flick down to where my nipples are poking against his borrowed Honey Ridge t-shirt and okay, yeah, I stick my chest out a little.
His eyes darken and the air seems to thicken around us.
In this moment, I wish I was more experienced. I’m good at flirting, but anything beyond that and I’m utterly clueless.
Jack winks at me, making me melt a little, and then turns back to the dishes, so I head up the stairs and find Jack’s room easily.
His bedroom is tidy, with nothing out of place.
My eyes snag on the king-sized bed, made neatly with a dark blue duvet.
I want to be in that bed with Jack teaching me everything, and the thought makes my stomach dip and swirl.
Good god, I want him. I want him so much. More than is sane or safe, given that we only met yesterday. But…I don’t know. The heart wants what it wants.
As does the coochie, apparently.