Best of My Love (Fool's Gold, #20)

“Cold nature.”


“Stop,” he told her.

She obliged.

He pointed up at the tall trees around them. The dusting of snow contrasted with the green needles and brown bark. The sky was so blue it almost hurt to look at it.

“You don’t get this kind of view in a gym.”

She nodded. “I’ll give you that, but you also don’t get frostbite.”

“I thought girls were supposed to be the romantic ones,” he complained and they started moving again.

“That’s a myth started by women to make men feel strong. At the heart of it, we’re actually the ruthless gender.”

She spoke cheerfully. He laughed.

“No one believes you,” he told her.

“It was worth a try.” She paused to catch her breath. “My friend Madeline wants to invite us to dinner. She and Jonny are having a few couples over.” She held up one glove-clad hand. The pole dangled from her wrist. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re not actually a couple. I’ve tried to tell her a bunch of times, but she doesn’t believe me. Or she won’t. I’m not sure it matters. So do you want to go?”

She was wearing sunglasses, so he couldn’t see her blue eyes, but he could imagine the combination of hopefulness and worry. Hope because she would want to have fun with her friends. Worry that he wouldn’t understand.

Without thinking—because if he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have done it—he bent down and kissed her. The second his mouth touched hers, he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. He started to pull back only to realize how much he liked the feel of her lips against his. The softness. The slight chill from the outdoor temperature with a hint of warmth below.

Need and desire battled with good sense and in the end, good sense won. He straightened.

“Yes,” he said firmly, as if nothing had happened. “We’ll go to dinner.”

Shelby pulled off her glasses. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “You just kissed me.”

He swore silently. “You noticed.”

“Hard not to.”

“It was an accident.”

“You slipped?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” He glanced at Charlie to make sure the dog was okay, then returned his attention to her. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Think of it as an involuntary reaction. Like a sneeze.”

“I was being cute and you had to kiss me?”

“Something like that.” His mouth twisted. “I mean it, Shelby. It was a mistake. We’re doing something good here. I don’t want to screw that up. We still have several months left in our experiment. Let the kiss go.”

He knew she was thinking, but had no idea what. While he mostly regretted what had happened, part of him simply couldn’t. He’d needed to kiss her for a while and now he had.

“Okay,” she said at last. “It never happened.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She slipped on her glasses and faced front. “Let’s get going. The sooner we get done spending a bunch of time in nature, the sooner I can get back to being warm.”

“There’s the spirit.”

Before he could say anything else, her cell phone rang. Shelby reached for her pocket.

“I’ll have to tell Kipling that the new towers are working great. I know they were put in for the search-and-rescue folks to have reception way out here. He’ll be so proud.” She glanced at the screen. “Speaking of my brother.” She pushed a button. “Hey, Kipling, we were just—”

Her body stiffened. “Now? Really? Okay. We’ll be right there.” She looked around. “We’re out cross-country skiing, but I’m sure Aidan knows a quick way back. We’ll see you at the hospital as soon as we can get there. Uh-huh. It’s going to be okay.”

A dozen disasters crossed Aidan’s mind, but he didn’t ask anything. Instead he waited until she’d hung up. She smiled at him.

“Destiny’s in labor. I have to get to the hospital. Not only to be there when she’s born, but because I’m taking Starr home with me. Tell me you know a shortcut.”

“Always. We’re about ten minutes from the car.”

She groaned. “Well, crap. You’ve been skiing me in circles.”

“In case you hurt yourself.”

“Always the planner. Okay, Mr. Mountain Guide. Get me back to civilization.”

*

SHELBY HELD THE perfect baby in her arms. The little girl was warm and tiny, with her eyes tightly closed. Everything about her was magical—the way her impossibly small starfish-like hands moved, the slight puckering of her exquisite rosebud mouth. If God was trying to send a message saying that Shelby needed to get on with her life, He was getting through loud and clear.

She wanted this. Wanted to be holding her own baby. She wanted tears filling her own eyes, the way they filled Destiny’s. She wanted her own husband looking at her the way Kipling looked at his wife. They were happy. No, not happy. That word was far too small for what they were obviously feeling.