Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
WINTER
This was my idea.
If I back out now, I’ll be so disappointed in myself. And honestly, more than a little embarrassed.
After days of trying to convince Enzo and his friends to give my plan a try, how humiliating would it be to tell them I changed my mind? To admit that I’m actually terrified of leaving Enzo’s house, which has come to feel like a little sanctuary.
If I chicken out, would that be like saying I don’t trust them to keep me safe? That I don’t trust Enzo, who’s gone way above and beyond to protect me?
It’s not that I think anyone would give me a hard time about it. And while Enzo wouldn’t come out and say it, he’d probably be thrilled if I call this whole thing off. I can stay at his cozy farmhouse that’s feeling more like home every day, working remotely and spending time with Enzo, safely tucked away from any possible danger.
From that perspective, staying put and waiting for Enzo’s friends or the police to find Thomas seems like a solid plan.
Except. How long will this go on for? In the beginning, I thought Thomas would be caught right away. I never imagined him being smart enough to evade capture for weeks.
Then again, he figured out a way to keep me locked away in his house for almost a month, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.
If it only affected me, it would be one thing. But it doesn’t. Aunt Linette’s life is on hold. Enzo is making all these adjustments to his life for me. His friends are rearranging their schedules to provide backup protection. And I don’t even want to think about how much money Enzo spent on all the security upgrades to his house and property.
But when I mentioned all those things in my argument for why we should try this bait idea, Enzo was quick to dismiss them. “Your aunt wants you safe. And she’s having a great time at the ranch. You know she is. My friends like you and they want to help.”
After a moment, he added, “And I’ll be honest; I think it’s helped them, being involved. Especially Gage and Ronan.”
“But your life. The store. The money?—”
Enzo silenced me with a kiss. After we kissed long enough for my thoughts to scatter, he gazed at me intently, his eyes turning a dark, stormy blue. “Winter. Understand this. Everything I am doing is because I want to. I care about you. A lot. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
I almost caved right then. Looking at his strong features softened with affection, the emotion in his gaze, realizing the absolute truth of what he was saying… I almost agreed to forget the whole thing.
But then I remembered the other reason. The one that springs from my heart and not my head. “I want us to have a regular relationship, Enzo. Dates. Trips. Meeting friends and family.”
An unhappy expression moved across his face. “I’m sorry, Winter. I tried?—”
“No. Stop.” We were sitting beside each other on the couch, and I climbed into his lap before continuing. “I love being here with you. I told you that. And what you did the other day… it was amazing. I loved it.”
How could I not? It’s been two days since the magical day Enzo arranged for me, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. The surprise breakfast and lazy morning, cuddled on the couch with Enzo. The games out in the yard. How he transformed the patio from basic to beautiful all while I was asleep.
And then the evening, when we ate Italian by candlelight and shared tiramisu and wine, followed by a new-to-theaters movie Alec somehow got for us to stream early. Enzo and I snuggled and kissed and talked all night until we both fell asleep on the couch, waking up hours later entwined together like pretzels.
That day broke down the last of my defenses. The shields I’d constructed around my heart fell away, leaving me open and vulnerable. But I wasn’t scared of it. Not with Enzo. In his arms—so strong, but gentle—I knew he would never hurt me.
Not physically. Never. But after he opened up about his mom and uncle, exposing his own vulnerabilities, it was like we’d reached a new phase of our relationship.
Our relationship . I’m not sure what we are. Is he my boyfriend? It seems too simple a word to describe it.
But it was that day that gave me the courage to tell Enzo everything. Before, I’d only talked about my time at Thomas’s house in vague generalities. But I knew it was time.
It was after the movie ended. Our tender kisses turned more passionate, our hands moving under clothing and his arousal prodding at me, and I was feeling more turned on than I can ever remember being, until Enzo gently set me away from him with a regretful smile.
“Why did you stop?” I asked him unnecessarily, because I really knew the answer to my question.
“Because I don’t want to rush you. If I did something to… trigger you. Scare you. I’d never forgive myself.”
I knew what Enzo was thinking. It was the same thing the police and the counselor did. “He didn’t,” I told him quietly. “What you’re thinking. Thomas. He didn’t. I don’t know why, but he never forced me.”
From there, I told him everything. How Thomas tried to force me after a few days of captivity, and how I completely lost it. I was so hysterical, Thomas backed off, and shockingly, he never tried again. He still hit me and grabbed me inappropriately, but that one line had been drawn.
Does it make it better; after all the other things Thomas did to me? No. But it’s one thing I’ll always be thankful for.
Enzo listened to me with a solemn expression and a gritted jaw, taking deep breaths to keep his calm. But he never stopped rubbing my back and stroking my hair, and when I finally finished, he said roughly, “I hate what he did to you. I wish I could kill him for it, honestly. Am I relieved he didn’t do worse? Yes. But you were still violated. Traumatized. Which is why I will never push you to do anything.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“I want you. But whatever we do, it’s on your terms. Your timeline. There’s no rush. Okay?”
My chest squeezed. “Okay.”
It’s not what I’m used to. I’ve never been the one to initiate things with the few men I’ve been with. It’s ironic, really, considering my declarations of independence and firm beliefs in gender equality. There have been plenty of times over the years that I encouraged a friend to go for it, reassuring them they didn’t have to wait for the man to make the first move.
Maybe I was too insecure before. Maybe I hadn’t met the right man, a man who would make me feel comfortable with anything.
Enzo, though? I can definitely see myself initiating sex with him.
Soon. I still need to work up the courage to do it.
And right now, my courage is already spoken for. I’m lingering minutes too long in the bathroom, fussing with hair that looks perfectly fine, trying to gird myself for what’s about to come next.
All my courage is going toward heading into work with Enzo. Spending the day at the store with him, talking to customers, making my presence known, and hopefully, sending a message to Thomas.
It should be fine. We have a plan. There’s no reason to be nervous.
Still. The flock of butterflies in my stomach—a kaleidoscope, I learned that while playing Trivial Pursuit—don’t seem to be getting the message.
Just as I’m reapplying my lip balm for the fourth time, Enzo calls through the door, “Winter? Are you okay?” He pauses. “Not that I’m trying to rush you. But it’s almost eight.”
Crap. I thought I had a little more time.
Pasting a smile on my face, I open the door and say, “I’m fine. Sorry. I lost track of time. But I’m ready to go.”
He scans my face, concern tightening his features. “Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind, I can have Ronan come from the store to stay here.”
Although the scared little voice in my head is desperately pleading for me to say yes, actually I’ve changed my mind and I do want to stay home , I’ve never quit before and I’m not starting now.
“I’m good.” Ignoring his look of skepticism, I add brightly, “I’m excited to go to work with you. Meet the customers. See what you do every day.”
Enzo’s lips press into a thin line and his brow creases, sending a slash of guilt through me. I want this over, and I really think this could work, but I hate making Enzo upset because of it.
A moment later, he leans down to give me a hard and quick kiss. Then he loops his arm around my waist and says, “Okay. Let’s do this, then.”
The instant his arm comes around me, the butterflies settle. The knot masquerading as my stomach loosens. The pressure on my chest releases. “Okay,” I reply, leaning into his side. “Let’s do this.”
By the time lunchtime rolls around, I’m feeling infinitely better and a little foolish for getting so freaked out to begin with.
First was seeing the extent of the precautions Enzo took to make sure the store is completely safe. Not just the security system with cameras and alarms covering every square inch of the building, but he also had the office turned into a safe room, complete with a reinforced steel door, bulletproof windows, a satellite phone, and a small supply of weapons stored in a biometrically locked box.
As Enzo showed it to me, he had me use my fingerprint to unlock it, opening the box to display an array of knives, pepper spray, a taser, and two handguns. “Remember what we talked about,” he said. “The guns are loaded but have the safety on. I don’t think you’ll ever have to use one, but…”
But I can if I need to. Even though it made me nervous initially, I wanted to learn how to shoot, so Enzo’s been giving me regular lessons. And since he used to be a sniper, who better to teach me? I’m not great by any means, but I can hit a target twenty feet away more often than not, which Enzo says is really impressive considering my lack of experience.
I really don’t want to have to shoot anyone. But if Thomas somehow gets in here, I will.
Aside from the security, we also have Ronan here for backup. He’s keeping an eye on the exterior of the store—checking out each car that drives into the parking lot and sending the license plate info to Alec for identification and patrolling the surrounding woods, searching for anything suspicious.
Enzo has been like a devoted guard dog, always watchful and rarely leaving my side. When Mrs. Adamson came in looking for a hiking backpack for her grandson, Enzo looked pained, leaving me behind the counter to help her.
Talking to Mrs. Adamson reminded me of the small-town life I’d been hoping to experience. She’s retired, kind of nosy, but incredibly kind. Mrs. Adamson— Erna , she insisted, none of that formal crap —immediately tried to take me under her wing. “You need anything, dear, you just let me know. I’m on social media, my grandkids insisted, so you can send me a message.”
I have a feeling she knows about Thomas and what he did—she just had this knowing look—but instead, she just patted me on the arm and said before leaving, “I mean it. Anything you need. Or if you want to talk. I’m here.”
So that was pretty nice.
After that, we had a pretty steady run of customers, many of them looking for hiking gear. “Fall is a great time for hiking,” Enzo explained. “Less buggy, great scenery while the foliage is changing, perfect temperature. And some people are gearing up for winter hikes. That’s a big thing around here, too.”
I’m excited to go hiking with Enzo once this thing with Thomas is over, but I’m not so sure about stomping through drifts of snow and being on top of a mountain in freezing temperatures. But who knows. Maybe I’ll end up trying it.
There’s a lull around twelve-thirty, so we unpack some sandwiches and pull up two stools so we can eat at the counter. As I nibble on my ham and Swiss, I open my laptop to show Enzo some more of the designs I’ve made for the store. I’m pretty excited about them, especially after being here and hearing about the customers’ interests.
“So I was thinking about adding some trail guides,” I say, pointing to a mockup of a map on the screen. “Nothing super detailed because I know that’s all available online. But something you could sell here, like a print people could frame after they complete it. Like the Long Trail or Mount Mansfield or Dewey Peak.”
Enzo puts his sandwich down—pastrami and provolone with pickles and mustard, which sounds gross to me, but he swears it’s delicious—and smiles at me. “That’s a great idea, hun. People love mementos of their hikes. And this design looks incredible.”
Warmth blossoms inside me. I’ve gotten plenty of compliments on my work before, but coming from Enzo, it means more. “I could start working on them if you like. Just the closer mountains to start, but if they’re popular, we can expand the collection. Maybe we can have two sizes. Thirty for an eight by ten, and fifty for an eleven by eighteen.”
His brows pull into a V. “You don’t think that’s too much?”
“Definitely not,” I reply. “I worked with a marina that did something similar, except their maps were of the different lakes they gave tours of. And they actually sold them for more. But just starting out, I’m thinking it’s better to start at a lower price.”
Enzo stares at me for a few seconds, an introspective expression on his face. Then he smiles again. “Every time I think I can’t be more amazed by you, you prove me wrong.”
Aww.
My heart is ice cream melting in ninety-degree weather.
Then I catch the flash of desire in his eyes, and my body responds—my skin hyper-sensitized, longing for his touch, lungs squeezing, and this aching emptiness at my core, desperate to be filled.
I’ve been attracted to Enzo since the first time I saw him. But now that I know him, trust him, have opened my heart to him, the attraction has grown into something much bigger.
When I watch him mow the lawn or chop wood—I never got the appeal of a man chopping wood until now—I’m not just appreciative of how he looks; I want to go outside and run my hands all over his broad shoulders and muscly chest and those perfectly ridged abs…
“You probably shouldn’t look at me that way right now.” Enzo’s voice is low and rough. He puts his hand on my thigh, still inches too low from where I’m now throbbing, but close enough to make me ache for his touch. “Not that I don’t like it. Love it, really. But someone could come in any time.”
“Yes.” I try to focus on his eyes and not the searing sensation of his hand on my leg. I try to concentrate on responding and not imagining his hand creeping upwards, moving to the apex of my thighs, stroking over my jeans, where a damp heat is building, before unbuttoning my jeans and slipping inside. “You’re right. It’s not the right place.”
His eyes are molten silver and twilight, his pupils dilating as he slowly inches his hand up my thigh. Then he stops. The muscles in his neck are strained. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Would you like me to touch you here later? And maybe… more?”
Oh. Even his voice turns me on. “That would—” His finger grazes the fabric between my legs and I can’t contain the little gasp that slips out. “Yes. I would really like that.”
As I gaze at Enzo, everything else slips away. A bus-full of customers could come in and I wouldn’t notice.
With his other hand, he cups my cheek and captures my mouth with his. It’s tender at first, little nips and caresses. His thumb strokes the line of my jaw while he teases my lips open and dips inside.
Every touch is gentle and patient, never demanding or dominant. It’s a slow exploration, giving me every chance to slow things down or stop them.
I love the contradiction of him. His strength and intensity and innate aura of danger, but hidden inside is a sensitive and sweet man who would do anything to keep from hurting me.
We keep kissing, pent-up need rising to the surface. It’s like a balloon filled past capacity, ready to pop.
I didn’t think I could feel like this, especially after everything.
But I do. I want.
I want to close the store and go to the office and clear off the desk and?—
A chiming noise breaks into my fantasy, bringing me rudely back to reality.
It’s the stupid sensor at the front door—which I thought was great when I got here this morning but now want to throw something heavy at it.
Enzo pulls away from me, casting me a quick, regretful look. He brushes his thumb across my lips and says in a tone low enough for only me to hear, “We can continue this later. Okay?”
Slightly breathlessly, I nod at him. “Okay.”
Then Enzo turns his attention to the man standing just inside the store. With a smile, he says, “Max. How are you?”
The man—Max—chuckles before answering. “Not as good as you, I think.”
If Enzo wasn’t sitting beside me, smiling and completely at ease, I might be alarmed by Max’s appearance.
Max is huge. At least a few inches taller than Enzo’s six foot two, and his chest is easily twice as wide as me. Enzo is big and muscly and intimidating, but Max? He looks like he could eat someone my size for breakfast.
It’s not just his size that sets my alarm bells ringing. He’s wearing oil-stained jeans and a worn T-shirt with several small holes in it. His features are all harsh lines and edges, and his eyes are so dark they look like chips of coal.
Yes. I know I’m judging this guy based solely on his appearance. But knowing I shouldn’t doesn’t make the anxious feeling in my stomach go away.
Enzo must sense my discomfort, because he reaches over and catches my hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze and tugs me a little closer to him, then says, “I’m doing pretty well. Business has been good. How’s everything down at the shop?”
Now at the counter, Max gives Enzo a kind of shoulder-clap greeting and a tiny chin lift. “Can’t complain. Staying busy.” Then he smiles at me, and his entire demeanor changes. His features soften. His eyes warm, changing from coal to chocolate. Even his posture changes, relaxing into something more open and friendly.
“Hi. I’m Max.” Even his tone is gentle. He starts to hold out his hand, but hesitates, like he’s afraid of upsetting me, and now I feel like kind of a jerk.
“Hi.” I shove down my irrational fears and take his hand, giving it a quick shake. “I’m Winter.”
Enzo wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “Sorry, hun. I should have been quicker on the introductions. This is Max Ellicott. He owns Ellicott’s Engines, the repair shop in town.” To Max, he adds, “And this is Winter Clarke. My girlfriend.”
My heart stutters. He’s never called me his girlfriend before.
“Nice to meet you, Winter.” Max holds my gaze for a second; long enough for me to know he’s nothing like the intimidating figure he presents. His lips quirk. “I went to high school with Enzo. So if you ever want to hear any embarrassing stories about him, let me know. Like this one time, when we were on the way back from a game, and?—”
“Ah, I don’t think we need to talk about that right now,” Enzo interjects, trying to hide a smile.
“Later,” Max agrees amiably. “You want to get together and have some beers, play some pool… you know I’m around.” And then he exchanges a quick look with Enzo that tells me Mrs. Adamson isn’t the only one who knows all about Thomas.
“Thanks, man.” Enzo lifts his chin at him. “When we can, definitely.”
Ten minutes later, after Max leaves with a new pair of snowshoes and several extra large fleeces, and it’s quiet again, Enzo turns to me. The worried crease is in his forehead as he asks, “Was it okay that I called you my girlfriend? It just came out, but I know we haven’t talked about it. I’m sorry if I jumped the gun.”
Was it okay?
Joy fizzes up inside me. Stretching up, I press a kiss to his jaw. “It was definitely okay.”
A smile tugs at his lips, and his eyes light with pleasure. “So you’re my girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” I beam at Enzo. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“Ah, good.” He sweeps me into his arms and peppers light kisses all over my face. “My girlfriend. The most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”
Oh.
OH.
Forget an ice cream cone melting. My heart is a puddle of sappy goo. Heart swelling, I frame his face and kiss him hard. “You’re pretty incredible, too.”