Autumn Bliss (14 page)

Maybe it was the jeans. Threadbare with white seams, they had a frayed hole for each knee, and numerous additional spots worn enough to allow glimpses of pale skin. Then again, that old, used-to-be-neon-green T-shirt hugged her breasts and slim torso so well, he wanted to run his palms over the material to smooth out the rogue wrinkles.

“Anything you absolutely can’t listen to?” she asked over her shoulder as she set the water down and bent to plug the radio in.

His gaze snagged on the small tear next to her left back pocket. Red peeked through the wash-frayed opening. She was wearing red panties. Rising to his feet to peel off his flannel shirt in the suddenly too-warm room, he did not hesitate in his reply. “Heavy metal or elevator music.”

She squatted down and worked the tuner until the twang of a banjo filled the air. “How about country?”

He hesitated a beat, then decided he could deal with it. “Sure.”

“Oh, that was enthusiastic.” She swiveled toward him. “What do you usually listen to?”

“I don’t play the radio much, but when I do it’s the seventies and eighties station.”

“98.5?”

“Yeah. You listen to them?”

“Sometimes on the weekends. During the week they’re mostly pop.”

“Country’s great,” he said quickly, tossing his shirt over the edge of one of the buckets.

She laughed and straightened, leaving the dial tuned in to country. While she taped off the woodwork around the windows and door trim, he readied the rollers and filled the paint pans with primer.

As she began one of the walls, he picked up the roller with the extended handle to start on the ceiling. “How’s everything coming along for the festival?”

“Other than the fact I cost the lodge a major sponsor? Wonderful.”

He hadn’t intended to remind her of the bad day yesterday.
Smooth move
. “Were they donating a lot for this event?”

“Only all the supplies for the food booth. Hamburgers, hot dogs, brats, buns, chips, that kind of stuff. Janelle’s going to contact some of the larger grocery stores in Green Bay to see if they’ll let us buy supplies at cost in exchange for free advertising. We won’t do as well with the food, but at least it’ll bring in something.”

“I might be able to help with that.”

She twisted to look up at him as she dipped her roller in the primer. “How?”

“My brother-in-law Pete, Anna’s husband? His family owns a meat shop over on the east side of Green Bay where they smoke all their own meats. With Pete being in the army, I think they’d be very open to supporting the veterans. Anna also mentioned something awhile back about them considering a second shop on the west side, in the Sobieski area. Depending on where they are with plans, they might jump at the chance for some advance advertising.”

“Oh my God, that would be perfect.” Now she was on her feet. “Can you get me a number for Janelle?”

“Sure. I’ll call Anna later.”

Without a word, she set her roller on the edge of the pan and hurried from the room. He’d finished another length of the ceiling when she returned and extended her hand with her cell phone.

“Or I could call now?”

“Yes, please.” She gave him a grin that was impossible to resist.

His own lips curved as he lowered his arms to set his roller down. “Fine. But I don’t want to have to figure that thing out, so you dial.” He rattled off the number, then took the phone after she’d keyed it in.

Anna answered on the third ring. He took a moment to explain why he was calling from some strange number, then explained the situation, and she loved the idea. She was positive her in-laws would love it, too, especially since they were planning the grand opening of the new west side store in three weeks.

After he finished the call, Mallory relayed the store and contact information to Janelle, along with Levi’s connection. Slipping the phone into her back pocket, she said, “She’s going to let me know once she calls them. Thank you.”

The warmth of her smile elevated his pulse. “See what they say before you thank me. Now, can we get back to work, slacker?”

Her laugh was even better than her smile. He turned his attention to the ceiling to keep from staring at her mouth. “Tell me more about what you have lined up for the festival.”

“Oh, we’ve got a bunch of stuff in the works.”

When she didn’t add to that, he prompted, “Like what?”

“You really want to hear about it?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

He couldn’t quite figure out the expression on her face. Skepticism? Maybe surprise?

Either way, she told him who’d signed up for the booths. Local vendors paid a fee for the space, but would get to keep their profits—a gesture Janelle said she’d had success with in the past. They had local honey makers, quilters, craft artisans, jewelry designers, homemade soap makers and a host of other offerings to populate the fourteen booths they’d built.

When he asked more questions, Mallory shared about the games for both kids and adults, the reindeer wagon rides that would be operated by Santa Butch, and the children’s petting zoo Janelle was going to set up in the small animal barn. She seemed extra excited about the pumpkin farm down the road who’d promised to bring a big wagon-load of left-over pumpkins and gourds after Halloween so they could decorate with them.

He kept her talking as they finished the coat of primer in the second room, then returned to the first to begin painting. Mallory started with a brush around the window trim, and Levi took the ceiling again.

“What’s really cool,” she continued, “is Mark and Eric are both volunteer EMTs through the fire department, and when Eric mentioned the festival, a couple of the guys offered to make a huge batch of booyah.”

“I love booyah.” His mouth watered at the thought of the savory stew. “Never had it until I moved here though.”

“I love it, too. I read online that the name ‘booyah’ started around here in northeast Wisconsin, but I’m not sure if that’s true or not. The soup itself originates from Belgium. Last I talked to Eric, he said departments from nearby towns like Redemption and Gillett and Bonduel are each going to bring a pot. What they don’t sell here for our event, they’ll divide up and take home for their local food pantries.”

“We’ll see what’s left after I stock my freezer.”

“I know. I planned on buying a couple quarts, too. Truthfully, I don’t expect there’ll be much left.”

He dipped his roller into the paint and started another swath. “It sounds like it’s going to be great. I can’t believe you’ve managed to set all this stuff up in less than a month.”

“I can barely believe it myself,” she agreed. “I just keep praying it’s not too cold, or rainy.”

“And no snowstorm.”

“From your lips to God’s ears. I mean, we’d be able to squeeze into the barns and arena if we had to, but it’d definitely be a tight squeeze. Plus, the decorations wouldn’t look near as nice.”

He smiled toward the ceiling at the pride and excitement in her voice. Sounded like she really enjoyed the challenge of pulling everything together.

“Hey—watch it.”

He glanced down to see her holding out her arm. She had Hot Spring Stones paint freckles dotting her skin and purple bandana. With her hair in those pig-tails, he couldn’t help but think how damn cute she looked.

“What makes you think those are from me?”

“Uh, because I just felt them drop?” With one finger, she smeared the wet paint on her forearm to prove it. “And your roller is dripping.”

He lifted his gaze. So it was. “Whoops. I guess I got a little too much on it.”

“Ya think?”

His attention dropped back to her just as she flicked her brush at him. Paint splattered on a vertical diagonal across his shirt and jeans. He even felt a couple drops hit his cheek.

“Whoops.” Her mimic was accompanied by a shit-eating grin.

He let it go and went back to work—until she let down her guard and turned her back. Then he lowered his arms to roll the wet nap down the middle of her back. She shrieked in laughing outrage, spine arched as she scrambled to get out of reach.

Spinning around, she lifted her wet paint brush, brandishing it like a knife. “Oh, you’re gonna to pay for that.”

“Go ahead,” he challenged as he set his roller aside. “Take your best shot.”

He was grinning like a fool and it felt damn good.

Another flick of the brush made him jerk his arms up in defense. From behind his forearms, he saw her lunge forward. A quick grab secured her wrist with the paint brush and his other arm stole around her waist to spin her until her back was against the wall. He pinned her in place with his body, and held her arms captive on either side of her head.

“Good lord,” she exclaimed on a laugh. “You’re fast.”

“Never forget a military man’s training. Snap decisions, faster reflexes.”

Details of her body were beginning to register, especially since she made no effort to gain release. It hadn’t been much of a struggle, yet she seemed to be having trouble catching her breath. Hell, with the way his heart pounded,
his
chest was tight with the effort to draw oxygen in.

“So, engaging you in hand to hand combat would be a mistake?” she asked breathlessly.

Each shallow inhale she took shifted her soft curves against his hard angles. Her hips aligned perfectly with his, and he had to fight the urge to press even closer. His gaze met hers as his smile lingered.

“If it ends like this, I’d be inclined to say no.”

Her gaze lowered to his mouth. “I’d be inclined to agree.”

It was all the invitation he needed to close the remaining inches between them.

Chapter 16

Her lips were soft as silk beneath his. The thought of them gliding across his skin nearly made him groan. When her breath caught and her lips parted, he slipped his tongue past her teeth to heaven.

The watermelon candy she’d popped in her mouth earlier lingered on her tongue. He greedily drank it in and explored deeper, searching out every bit of flavor. He liked watermelon, yet there was an underlying sweetness that was pure Mallory.

Addicting. Mind-scrambling.

Everything faded into the background except the taste and feel of her. Her teeth nipped his lower lip as she slid one leg up and hooked it around his. A low groan reached his ears when he pressed into her against the wall. He had no clue if it came from his lips or hers.

“Levi…” she breathed into his mouth. “Levi, wait.”

He dragged his mouth from hers. He still had hold of her wrists against the wall, but her lack of concern over the restriction conveyed an unspoken trust that swelled his heart and another part of his anatomy.

Her gaze locked with his, her breasts heaving against his chest as she fought to catch her breath. “I…I’m not planning to stay in town.”

Sonofabitch
, she had to bring that up, didn’t she?

Easing back, he drew in a huge breath and let it back out before releasing her wrists and lowering his hands to her hips. “I know.”

Which meant they should stop this right now—before either of them got in too deep. Only problem was, he figured it was already too late for him. He’d never done anything halfway, so why should this be any different?

Her gaze searched his as she laid her hands on his shoulders. “So…” She flattened her palms and ran them down his chest in an unmistakable caress, as if she were itching to explore. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”

“Probably not.”

“Right.” Disappointment flashed in those luminous brown eyes before her lashes lowered. “We should probably get back to work.”

And yet, he’d give anything to rip off his shirt right now and feel her warm touch against his bare skin. His body seconded that notion as need throbbed through him, centered directly beneath the zipper of his jeans.

“Or…” He waited for her gaze to rise. “I could kiss you again.”

Heat flared in her eyes. Her hands fisted the material of his shirt to pull him forward again. “Yes, please.”

They were both all-in the second time around. He couldn’t get enough, even though she gave everything he asked for and more.

Wet, deep, slow, fast, gentle, rough.

At one point, when they came up for air, she gave a husky laugh. “Nothing rusty about
that
.”

“Thank God.”

He nuzzled her neck, deeply inhaling her intoxicating scent. He didn’t try to hide his arousal, and the sensual grind of her hips nearly made him lose it in his pants. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt, desperate to feel the silky softness of her skin, yet forcing himself to go slow as he eased his palms up toward her ribs.

With an impatient sound, she crisscrossed her arms and stripped the snug cotton over her head. The movement knocked her purple scarf askew. He tossed it aside and lowered his gaze to the swell of her breasts over the top of a nude-colored, satin bra.

The sight turned him hard as a rock. He wanted to touch and lick and suck until she moaned his name in mindless pleasure before he buried himself deep inside her.

Rigidly maintaining control, he drew her in for another kiss and spun her away from the wall. Time to get serious. He steered her backward, navigating around paint pans and roller handles, toward the living room in search of her bed or the couch—anyplace soft and horizontal so he could explore her body.

A loud knock registered through the passion-infused haze shutting out the rest of the world. Then he heard the cabin door open in the other room.

“Levi? You here?”

The sound of Mark’s voice doused him as if he’d been helo-cast into a body of icy water. He set Mallory away from him, dropping his gaze from her panicked eyes to her breasts. “Shit. Your shirt.”

She grabbed his arm when he would’ve went for the shirt. “Get out there before
he
comes in
here
,” she hissed.

“Right.” He spun around and raised his voice as he crossed the room. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ll be right out.”

He met Mark in the hall, one step from the bedroom doorway. The major pulled up short when he blocked the way.