“I don't normally do weddings,” Isabel said, more curt than normal. “What's the date?”

“July thirty-first.”

That was the same date Andrew's oldest son was getting married. Sitting down heavily in her office chair, she asked, “Do you have family at the lake?”

“No, but my fiancй spent summers there as a child. You might know their cabin? Poplar Cove. I know this is short notice, and I completely understand if you can't accommodate us, but Sam and I would really appreciate it if you'll at least consider it.”

The woman had just given Isabel a clear out. Sorry, I'm too busy. I'm afraid it's just not possible. So then, why wasn't she saying no and hanging up the phone?

The answer hit her clear between the eyes: because she wasn't a coward. So she wasn't going to run. Instead, she was going to face her fears head-on. And she was going to triumph, goddamn it.

A few minutes later they'd worked out the initial details. Isabel was going to cater Andrew's son's wedding.

Chapter Nineteen

ALL HIS life, people had told Connor how brave he was. And he'd believed them. He'd done things no one else could, faced impossible risks and walked out grinning on the other side. He'd skimmed off the surface of life's high moments. Moved from one victory to another.

No question, the fire in Desolation had rocked his world. It was his first-ever brush with his mortality. The first time it had ever occurred to him that he wasn't Superman. And still, he'd thought — no, he'd known — that once he got back out there things would be just as they had been before. That he'd be afraid of nothing. That he'd still be invincible, and when push came to shove he'd still know how to make all the right decisions, every single time.

The Forest Service phone call had been the start of his fall. But it was hearing Ginger say “I love you” that had sent him all the way over the edge.

Because the truth was that he'd never wanted anything, never needed anyone as much as he needed Ginger. He'd never been completely ruled by something that he couldn't control. Even fire had rules. Sure it stunned you every now and again, but for the most part you only paid the price when you'd pushed the boundaries.

But what he felt for Ginger had no boundaries.

Which was why he'd tried to f**k away his feelings for her. It was why he'd tried to make her run. And when she hadn't, he'd done the very thing he'd been afraid of all along, the very thing he'd seen coming.

He'd hurt her.

“Why haven't you come upstairs?” she'd asked him that morning when she'd come down to the living room.

He sat up on the couch in the living room, stunned to see Ginger standing at the foot of the stairs as faint light from the rising sun came in the windows.

God, she was beautiful.

So damn beautiful.

“I can't trust myself with you.”

Not after last night. And still, she'd told him she loved him. When he'd deserved it the least.

He stood up, told her, “I can't take the chance that I'd hurt you again. You're the last person on the planet that I'd ever want to hurt.”

She came at him as if she didn't hear him, didn't understand that he was trying to protect her from the deep, dark rage that he'd couldn't push down. He hadn't known how bad it was until last night.

The bruises on her wrists had showed him the truth.

She stopped just inches from him, so close that all he could think about was pulling her against him, begging her forgiveness with his mouth, his hands, worshipping her the way he should have last night.

“I've been waiting for you to come to bed, Connor. All night. To come upstairs and talk to me. To talk with me.

I didn't want to have to do this. To come down here and force you.”

Suddenly, she seemed to realize how close they were, and took one step back, then another. Every inch she put between them made the ache inside his chest grow bigger.

And then her hands moved to her chest, almost as if she were shielding herself from him and she said, “I wanted sharing yourself with me to be your choice.” He watched her walk out the door, heard her car start, pull out of the gravel driveway.

Everything had been a blur since she'd left. He'd gone out to the workshop, grabbed the heaviest ax he could find, and started slamming it into a thick tree trunk. But all the sweat in the world couldn't push Ginger out of his head, couldn't erase the feeling that everything he wanted was right within his grasp.

Only, in the end, he didn't have a damn clue how to hold on to any of it.

* * *

Stepping out of his rental car behind Poplar Cove, Andrew saw Connor dragging a huge tree stump out of the woods onto the beach. He rushed over to help.

“I'll grab this end.”

Connor didn't say anything, but he did wait for Andrew to grab the log. Sweet Lord, Andrew thought as he heaved the tree up off the ground, it was heavy. Within seconds he was breathing hard, sweat pouring into his eyes. It was all he could do just to try to keep pace with his son. At the same time, he relished the work.

This was the first time he and Connor had ever worked together as a team.

Finally, they put down the log in front of the cabin. Andrew wanted to throw himself down on the sand and figure out how to breathe again, but Connor was already heading back into the woods.

When he'd offered to help out with the cabin, he'd been thinking about a hammer and nails. Not this he-man stuff.

Time to suck it up, he quickly decided as he watched his son disappear between trees.

But two hours later, Andrew was pretty damn sure he was going to have a heart attack. The pain in his arms and shoulders and legs was relentless. A grunt accompanied every step. But he refused to give up, to cry uncle, to show his son just how weak he was.

And then, Connor dropped the log they were carrying, so suddenly it almost broke Andrew's foot. Cursing as he jumped out of the way, he scowled at his son. “Damn it, you should have said something before you dropped it like that.”

But instead of tossing back a retort, Connor was standing in the sand clenching his hands into fists, then flexing his fingers over and over again.

Oh shit. Connor's hands. They'd been wrecked after the fire, were still badly scarred, but Andrew had assumed they were okay now. Because Connor had never said otherwise.

And he'd never asked.

o;I don't normally do weddings,” Isabel said, more curt than normal. “What's the date?”

“July thirty-first.”

That was the same date Andrew's oldest son was getting married. Sitting down heavily in her office chair, she asked, “Do you have family at the lake?”

“No, but my fiancй spent summers there as a child. You might know their cabin? Poplar Cove. I know this is short notice, and I completely understand if you can't accommodate us, but Sam and I would really appreciate it if you'll at least consider it.”

The woman had just given Isabel a clear out. Sorry, I'm too busy. I'm afraid it's just not possible. So then, why wasn't she saying no and hanging up the phone?

The answer hit her clear between the eyes: because she wasn't a coward. So she wasn't going to run. Instead, she was going to face her fears head-on. And she was going to triumph, goddamn it.

A few minutes later they'd worked out the initial details. Isabel was going to cater Andrew's son's wedding.

Chapter Nineteen

ALL HIS life, people had told Connor how brave he was. And he'd believed them. He'd done things no one else could, faced impossible risks and walked out grinning on the other side. He'd skimmed off the surface of life's high moments. Moved from one victory to another.

No question, the fire in Desolation had rocked his world. It was his first-ever brush with his mortality. The first time it had ever occurred to him that he wasn't Superman. And still, he'd thought — no, he'd known — that once he got back out there things would be just as they had been before. That he'd be afraid of nothing. That he'd still be invincible, and when push came to shove he'd still know how to make all the right decisions, every single time.

The Forest Service phone call had been the start of his fall. But it was hearing Ginger say “I love you” that had sent him all the way over the edge.

Because the truth was that he'd never wanted anything, never needed anyone as much as he needed Ginger. He'd never been completely ruled by something that he couldn't control. Even fire had rules. Sure it stunned you every now and again, but for the most part you only paid the price when you'd pushed the boundaries.

But what he felt for Ginger had no boundaries.

Which was why he'd tried to f**k away his feelings for her. It was why he'd tried to make her run. And when she hadn't, he'd done the very thing he'd been afraid of all along, the very thing he'd seen coming.

He'd hurt her.

“Why haven't you come upstairs?” she'd asked him that morning when she'd come down to the living room.

He sat up on the couch in the living room, stunned to see Ginger standing at the foot of the stairs as faint light from the rising sun came in the windows.

God, she was beautiful.

So damn beautiful.

“I can't trust myself with you.”

Not after last night. And still, she'd told him she loved him. When he'd deserved it the least.

He stood up, told her, “I can't take the chance that I'd hurt you again. You're the last person on the planet that I'd ever want to hurt.”

She came at him as if she didn't hear him, didn't understand that he was trying to protect her from the deep, dark rage that he'd couldn't push down. He hadn't known how bad it was until last night.

The bruises on her wrists had showed him the truth.

She stopped just inches from him, so close that all he could think about was pulling her against him, begging her forgiveness with his mouth, his hands, worshipping her the way he should have last night.

“I've been waiting for you to come to bed, Connor. All night. To come upstairs and talk to me. To talk with me.

I didn't want to have to do this. To come down here and force you.”

Suddenly, she seemed to realize how close they were, and took one step back, then another. Every inch she put between them made the ache inside his chest grow bigger.

And then her hands moved to her chest, almost as if she were shielding herself from him and she said, “I wanted sharing yourself with me to be your choice.” He watched her walk out the door, heard her car start, pull out of the gravel driveway.

Everything had been a blur since she'd left. He'd gone out to the workshop, grabbed the heaviest ax he could find, and started slamming it into a thick tree trunk. But all the sweat in the world couldn't push Ginger out of his head, couldn't erase the feeling that everything he wanted was right within his grasp.

Only, in the end, he didn't have a damn clue how to hold on to any of it.

* * *

Stepping out of his rental car behind Poplar Cove, Andrew saw Connor dragging a huge tree stump out of the woods onto the beach. He rushed over to help.

“I'll grab this end.”

Connor didn't say anything, but he did wait for Andrew to grab the log. Sweet Lord, Andrew thought as he heaved the tree up off the ground, it was heavy. Within seconds he was breathing hard, sweat pouring into his eyes. It was all he could do just to try to keep pace with his son. At the same time, he relished the work.

This was the first time he and Connor had ever worked together as a team.

Finally, they put down the log in front of the cabin. Andrew wanted to throw himself down on the sand and figure out how to breathe again, but Connor was already heading back into the woods.

When he'd offered to help out with the cabin, he'd been thinking about a hammer and nails. Not this he-man stuff.

Time to suck it up, he quickly decided as he watched his son disappear between trees.

But two hours later, Andrew was pretty damn sure he was going to have a heart attack. The pain in his arms and shoulders and legs was relentless. A grunt accompanied every step. But he refused to give up, to cry uncle, to show his son just how weak he was.

And then, Connor dropped the log they were carrying, so suddenly it almost broke Andrew's foot. Cursing as he jumped out of the way, he scowled at his son. “Damn it, you should have said something before you dropped it like that.”

But instead of tossing back a retort, Connor was standing in the sand clenching his hands into fists, then flexing his fingers over and over again.

Oh shit. Connor's hands. They'd been wrecked after the fire, were still badly scarred, but Andrew had assumed they were okay now. Because Connor had never said otherwise.

And he'd never asked.

Tags: Bella Andre Hot Shots: Men of Fire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net