Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I vy peered around the edge of the stove again, hoping for a better look. Max moseyed in for a quick drink of water before taking up his guard post on a pile of folded painter’s plastic by the far wall of the kitchen.

Her phone beeped twice, signaling the inevitable.

“Mrs. December, my phone is about to die.” Just like her.

“Can you see who it is? Mr. Murdoch might have fallen into the spiked apple cider again. You know it’s that time of year.”

The town’s drunk did not look like the Hulk!

“Not him! That much I can see.”

“No? Hmm. No, now wait a second. Red plaid, you said? I could be mistaken, but it sounds like the fire chief, maybe. Bumped into him this morning on the way to cover my shift. He said he’d be by your way today. Guess he got an early start.”

What time was it? Just then tiny bells on her smartphone chimed and filled the quiet kitchen. Might as well be the bat signal shining in the night’s sky over Gotham City with how furiously it filled the entire house. “I gotta go, Mrs. December.”

Ivy refused to die. Not this close to Christmas and with her gran upstairs sleeping. You could take her house, but by the sweet Jesus in the Manger, enough was enough. She bounded to her feet and cringed at the little jingle-jangle of her house slippers.

If by any miracle she survived this, Ivy mentally scheduled a long talk with her grandmother about the fact she wasn’t twelve anymore.

She snatched the first thing her eyes landed on and busted through the kitchen door, weapon raised.

An odd old red Chevy truck took up space beside her gran’s white Caddie. Morning hues of blue pushed out the gray and lit the sky to create a wonderful contrast to the flawless sheet of white that covered everything beyond the steps of the large wrap-around porch. Pristine all but for the messy area where the stranger stood with freshly split wood in either hand. But she didn’t have time for pretty and peaceful.

Snow crunched and she rounded the various wicker chairs between her and the railing of the porch. “Freeze right there you crazy, out-of-your-mind ax-wielding loon!” She planted her feet wide and took aim down the short handle. “I’m armed and I know how to use this. What the heck do you think you are doing?” Ivy squinted, trying to make out the face of her supposed do-gooder. Morning barely had a chance to chase away the shadows. Tucked beneath the eaves where the porch roof dipped to a smaller section, she couldn’t see anything above the shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s what crazy usually means and I bet you do. No sane woman this far north would be caught not knowing how to swing a cast iron skillet.”

She knew that voice. Didn’t she? Ivy crouched for a better look and she groaned when the little bells on her slippers tinkled again. So much for her tough kick-ass persona.

His gaze dropped to her feet. “Uhh, are those antlers on your feet? And tiny bells? Cute.”

There went that gruff voice again. This time with a hint of laughter and it cranked up the fire that burned in her veins.

“Never you mind, mister. And hey, don’t look at my feet, crazy man. The dangerous end is up here.” She wound up her batting arm and tightened her grip on the handle of her grandmother’s most prized possession beyond her bed and breakfast.

Ivy had played softball in junior high and remembered her coach’s instructions to swing from the waist and let the bat do the rest. In this case, her cast iron cookware.

“I believe you, but you’ll freeze to death if you don’t get back inside, though it’s probably not much better in there given how long the power has been out.”

As her ax-wielder stepped out from the low hanging eaves, her jaw hinged open. Dark hair paired with a set of equally dark eyes offset by a huge, soft smile greeted her. And muscle. Lord save her soul, the muscles on the man didn’t end. She bet half the female population of Dixen melted every time they looked his way.

She knew she always did.

“If it ain’t the Big Dix man himself.”

She finally peeled her eyes off the yards of strained plaid around his biceps to take in the full effect of his cocky grin and dark eyes. Still as piercing as ever. No surprise there. But what did surprise her was not to see hatred or contempt behind those thick lashes for her. Not even a sliver of indifference.

Then again, Aspen wasn’t one for grudges.

His brow cocked a few degrees north and shook his head. “You know, no one calls me that anymore?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. The original, in fact.”

The earned nickname from senior year in high school made him grimace a bit but she saw the flash of humor over his expression too. It was the last game of the season and when they crushed the visiting team the crowd started cheering big dixs. It stuck and the girls of Dixen, Alaska have never let the boys of Dixen High live it down.

“So it seems.” His grin doubled in size, his gaze drinking her in slow and steady.

Disarmed, her batting arm dropped slightly. Of all the people she could run into first, of course, it would be him.

“Aspen Kennedy.” Her first reaction was a rush of heat from head to toe. Then embarrassment. After all, she almost married the man. To have not recognized him instantly said a lot about her mental state. After the awkward moment of leaving him at the altar, the last she heard, he was in California as a top hotshot firefighter. As his gaze raked over her, instant self-awareness set in. His voice was rougher than she remembered, but as the sun crested over the hills, that hard, chiseled jawline became more familiar by the second as did the small set of dimples on either side of his smile.

“Talk about surprises. What are you doing here?” Flustered and a little embarrassed by her John Wayne bravado, Ivy straightened and let her swinging arm fully rest at her side. Cold air rounded the house from the lake as a reminder of who held all the cards. Mother Nature is in full winter mode. She wrapped her free arm around herself.

Now that she thought about it a little longer, maybe some firewood was a good idea, after all.

“It’s good to see you, Ivy Sunday.”

Not an answer to her question, but the sound of her name falling from his lips brought a rush of memories to mind. The way she felt in his arms, his lips on hers. Every detail she tried to bury surfaced and brought with them a flush of goose bumps across her bare skin. Looking at him stare down at her like she was a sight to behold made her chest tighten.

Fuck, her heart hurt.

Hearing him say her name like that in a slow, easy drawl made the tension between her shoulder blades contract. After he learned her full name over storytime and a bucket of Play-Doh in preschool, he never called her anything else. No one else since him had ever called her by both her names either.

Only him.

Aspen propped the ax beside the cutting block and ate up the few steps leading up to the porch with long strides.

Slightly faded black jeans encased powerful, thick thighs and traveled the length of long legs to end over the top of old and worn boots. With scuffs along the sides and tips, she could tell they were his favorite for hours of outdoor work.

Her eyes retraced the mileage back up and settled on his just in time to see him take the last step between them.

Oh no.

She held her breath as his intent registered the second their gazes connected. Within a couple of steps he gathered her in a tight hug and twirled her around. She let out a bubbly laugh like she used to when they were in high school and he scored a touchdown for the home team as she cheered him on from the sidelines.

Instant warmth wrapped around her, and she did her best not to blush when he pulled her back. Her feet barely had a chance to touch the floor when warm lips brushed against hers in a soft, tender kiss.

Her breath hitched. Had he gone mad? Forgotten how she must have hurt him?

Shock froze her in place but the heat of his touch, his taste had her melting into him and kissing him right back.

Her body trembled against his. He always did have the power to leave her speechless.

Breaking the kiss, he slowly lowered until her feet touched the floor.

“Still just as sweet as I remember.”

And just as nice, she wanted to add but thought better of it. She looked down to hide the instant lust she had for a man she shouldn’t have feelings for at all anymore. Instead of giving voice to her thoughts she stood in silence, his arms around her with every inch between her pelvis and her perky nipples touching, which, by the way, were doing enough talking for both of them, at the moment.

He placed his hand beneath her chin and tipped her head up. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, but damn, Ivy Sunday how I’ve missed you.” His voice dropped the longer he spoke and for the life of her all she could focus on was seeing if he would kiss her like that again.

It didn’t help that he didn’t move his hand from the dip in her lower back or move his gaze away from her lips.

“Don’t be,” she husked in a raspier tone than she’d intended.

She laughed softly when a sinful smile curved his lips. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming. It’s been too long, Ivy Sunday. Dixen has missed its angel and it hasn’t been the same with you gone. It’s been too long, sweetheart.” He cupped her face in a warm palm and stroked a callused thumb just shy of touching the corner of her lip.

He raked his gaze over the delicate line of her jaw and traced it to the tiny dip in her chin then finally settled the heated look in his eyes on her lips. One look and he had her internal temperature feverish.

Everything between them had always been hot, instant and all-consuming. Nothing had changed, it seemed.

“It has, Aspen. I don’t know about the angel part, but yeah. Too long.” She sounded a little out of breath and everything in her wanted to contribute it to the sudden drop of adrenaline in her system. Not the man with his arms still wrapped around her, holding her body close to his.

Ivory soap with a hint of wintry pine. Her eyes slipped closed, and despite her best efforts, she inhaled and buried her face into the nook of his shoulder when he hugged her close to him. He smelled like everything that said home for a Dixen girl.

Before anything got too out of hand she reluctantly stepped from his arms. The more distance she placed between them, the cooler his expression turned. It was like watching a fire burn out until only embers were left behind.

“So, Fire chief, huh? I wondered what Mrs. December meant by new chief .”

She watched a crooked grin tip the corner of his lip. “Yeah, Chief Matthews retired three years ago and I took over.”

She nodded. “It’s a good fit. Red suits you and the title definitely fits.” She tapped the bill of his hat with Fire Chief across the front in crisp white letters against midnight blue.

Despite her better judgment, Ivy rested her free hand on his chest. “What are you doing here? And so early? I thought you were an ax-wielding murderer for a full twenty minutes. You scared the crap out of me and Max. You know, one command and Max could have killed you,” she teased, tapping a finger against hard, taut muscle.

His brow arched over a pointed look of disbelief. “You’ve been in the city too long if you think every person is a murderer, Ivy Sunday. And the only thing that dog could kill is a can of chow and strawberry cake.”

Despite going for a straight face, Ivy could not help the laugh that bubbled up. “You got me there. But don’t second-guess Max. He has a vicious tongue. His kisses can be just as deadly.”

Aspen stood close enough she could feel his body heat hug close to her. His laugh, rich and deep, reached through her and stirred up fond memories of the last time he smiled down at her like that.

“For real though. What brings you out here so early?”

He took in everything about her. From the way her hips fit snuggly to his, the way her hands rested on his chest and she knew for a fact he didn’t fail to miss the fact she didn’t have a bra on under her pajamas.

“I come out through here every Saturday to make sure your grandmother and Ms. Lucille down the road haven’t cooked up any trouble and have a good stock of firewood. Power went out when the storm blew down a couple of large limbs a few miles from here. With the snow front that came in last night, the men and I at the firehouse are making rounds, checking in with the residents to make sure everyone has what they need until the lines crews get the problem fixed. So while I waited for you to rise and shine, city slicker, I thought I would cut some wood for you ladies.”

He stood only inches from her now and she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. Soft brown like rich coffee and observant. She felt as though the longer he looked at her the more he could see of her failures, which was ridiculous.

Aspen squared his shoulders, making himself look less like the football star she fell in love with years ago and more like the fireman with a few more years on him. Handsome, more so even.

“Here, slip this on and let’s get you warmed up.”

Aspen leaned to the side and plucked up a heavy coat he must have taken off while chopping wood.

“Uhh, yeah. Thank you.” She smiled thinking back on why he was here. That was one long-winded explanation if she ever heard one. She huffed out a billowy cloud of hot air. Of course, her grandmother let everyone in town know she’d be here. The woman was a menace with her use of social media. Most times Ivy wondered if there should be a law on granddaughters teaching firecracker grandmothers how to Facebook in the first place.

“Let me get that for you.” Aspen slowly leaned in, his eyes on hers the whole time. Yeah, she still had it bad for him because her heart raced and skin flushed when he leaned in just shy of touching her and held the kitchen door open for her.

“Let’s get you inside, sweetheart.” He placed a light touch to her lower back and ushered her inside where it was only marginally warmer.

Shafts of sunlight beat through the heavy clouding and burst through the kitchen window to give the place a glow of warmth despite the cold. Definitely colder now that she did not have Aspen’s heat to cocoon her from the cold, but his jacket was the next best thing. She tightened the sides around her and tucked her nose inside.

“Thank you.” She turned away from Aspen, who walked in behind her and took a second to roll her eyes in bliss. Would it be wrong to groan at how good this man smelled? Wow. Some would argue the seasons did not have a scent. That snow was just frozen water. But to her, winter was her favorite time of year and smelled just like Aspen Kennedy. Her odd revelation came at an awkward moment, but it was the truth.

Her self-imposed man-hiatus since being dumped a month ago suffered a fracture in its core structure.

Twice now she’d tried to get married. Both attempts failed. First one was her fault but not the second.

Some would say it was karma getting back at her since she did almost the same thing by leaving Aspen at the altar. She would agree but could examine it more in-depth when she could ugly cry from all the crappy decisions that lead to this moment when she was alone in her room. Right now, she wanted to enjoy the delights of seeing Aspen again. And didn’t that make her twisted in the head!

“I wondered how long you two crazy lovebirds would stand out there in the cold. Love really is blind. Oh, hon, red looks good on you!” Gran flashed a wide smile her way and winked.

Ivy placed her makeshift weapon on the counter and rubbed her hands together. “Morning, Gran!” While outside, the power had come back and her gran had set about her morning routine of caffeine and Facebook, it seemed.

Coffee, thick and strong with a hint of cinnamon, wafted through the icy air and tingled her senses. Oh, how she’d missed that and the woman responsible for making her famous winter blend. She caught a hint of nutmeg and vanilla too.

“Morning, sunshine!”

She dropped a quick kiss on Gran’s cheek. “I see you’ve started early.” Ivy pointed a finger at the smartphone. “Anything new in the world we should know about?” Ivy moseyed around the counter to the coffeepot. “Behave.” She half mumbled and whispered as she passed by the kitchen island.

But it did not matter because her grandmother already had a twinkle in her eye. When that happened, you better keep off her radar because it meant her mind was set on something or someone.

“What? I have eyes. And a good imagination. But you two were painting the whole picture for me.” She tapped the corner of her head and her sassy, say-it-like-she-wanted grandmother waggled her eyebrows at Aspen over the rim of her steamy cup of dark roast.

Her pulse thudded harder when Aspen only cleared his throat and gave that crooked grin of his in response.

Ivy reached for the planner she left on the counter the night before and a pen: Call siblings, curse each of them for life for throwing me to the wolves.

“Mrs. Winters. Glad you’re feeling spunky as usual. Morning.” Aspen slipped his cap off and leaned in to give a quick kiss on the cheek. The bad boy of Dixen High was nothing less than a gentleman.

“Morning, handsome. I see you wasted no time in stopping by.” She tossed him a wink. “That’s my boy.”

“Gran,” Ivy mouthed sideways as heat crept up the back of her neck and flushed over her cheeks. Aspen didn’t seem nearly as bothered, though. He stood leaning half his weight against the counter, cap in hand and a smile bigger than Alaska on his face.

“Yes, ma’am. Couldn’t let anyone go without firewood on my watch.”

“Sure,” her gran quipped. “If you deliver firewood with kisses like those, you would have everyone in town wanting you to deliver theirs too.”

Ivy scribbled another quick note, anything to keep her eyes glued down and not on Aspen until she got ahold of her runaway thoughts.

Gran scooted off the stool and went for another refill of coffee. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever. I’ve already planned it out.”

Didn’t seem likely given how the holiday season kicked off with her getting dumped and then losing her house. Or was it the other way around? Didn’t matter.

“Oh, what kind of plans?”

“You’ll see.”

Ominous, but she left it for a later discussion. She did not have time for Christmas plans or anything remotely festive. Christmas could scoot along and so could New Year’s and while she nixed the holidays from her mental list she might as well include Valentine’s, too. She would take a pass on anything that involved the heart and the home for the foreseeable future, thank you very much.

And it was all her fault, she reminded herself.

All. Your. Fault.