MICAH (A California Dreamy Novel Book 3) Page 6

  Sounded like a plan. She snuggled deeper into her jacket as the breeze lifted and wished she’d put a little more thought into her stay in the Sierras. She hadn’t purchased a parka because she didn’t know if she would remain until the first snow. The rent on the house was month-to-month and after a spectacular fall showing she’d thought she might move onto a different part of the state where she could enjoy the natural offerings. But now that her muse was flowing, all she wanted to do was hunker down and stay until she had a completed book. She made a mental note to shop for a heavier jacket as well as a few more pairs of jeans and a sweater or two when she went back to San Diego for Ethan’s wedding.

  “Cold?”

  Micah’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she realized she’d huddled closer to him. Their arms and hips brushed as they walked. He did seem as effected by the weather, though he wore only a hoodie over his t-shirt.

  That fat versus muscle thing, she supposed. She put some distance between them and said, “Fat is very inefficient.”

  “You’re not fat.”

  “I’m not muscular.” She’d done her share of reading on the subject. On average, women had five percent more fat than men. She aired her feelings about the disparity.

  “Body fat is necessary for a woman. In addition to making them softer and more appealing to men, it supports a woman’s hormones and makes it possible for them to bear and nurse children.”

  “Hmmm,” she muttered. “Seems to me that a woman’s fat cells are engineered for the enjoyment of others.”

  His laughter was swift and deep.

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “You sound so put out,” he told her. “Where do you lose weight first?’ he asked.

  She didn’t have to think too long to come up with an answer for that or to recognize where he was going with this. “My breasts and before you start on their necessity I can afford to lose a little there.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  That raised her eyebrows. Of course he’d noticed. Breasts drew a man’s radar. She didn’t begrudge them that and in truth, she sometimes enjoyed the attention. She wasn’t above purchasing a snug sweater she knew would launch a man’s imagination and always considered more than support when choosing the right bra. But a little less wouldn’t hurt.

  “Too bad you don’t get to make that decision.”

  “Yeah.”

  And the level of regret in his admission caught her attention.

  Feeling her gaze on him, he shrugged. “Men and women are often at odds on things such as body image.”

  “You mean women don’t always know what turns a man on?”

  “And men don’t always know what gets a woman hot,” he agreed. “That’s why clear communication is always important.”

  And sometimes even that wasn’t enough. Emme’s mind and body were often at war with her needs and desires. Cross-signals and confusion warred inside her, and she imagined, inside everyone.

  “But no one likes feeling vulnerable.” Actually saying what one needed or wanted—asking to have a desire fulfilled—those were difficult tasks.

  “In a healthy relationship, we protect each other in our vulnerabilities.”

  And Emme liked that. She wanted that. But did it ever really exist? In her meager contact with the opposite sex, she hadn’t found it.

  She stared up at the sky, looking for a distraction. She really didn’t want to think any more about her failures. This trip was all about building success, creating a momentum that would propel her into new living. Dwelling on the soft spots, which is how she thought about her weaknesses, or even on Micah’s strident rebuffs, left her feeling heavy when what she needed were hollow bones and a good draft.

  She wanted to fly. She’d gotten her first taste of it that day and it was heady air up there. Thinner, cooler, exhilarating.

  “You didn’t have that with Alan?”

  The question surprised her. She felt as far away from her former fiancé and that other world as she could get. And even the mention of his name failed to bring that bite of recrimination and self-doubt. Six days in the Sierras and she was already making significant changes.

  No, that wasn’t accurate, and she felt herself shaking her head as she thought. Paralyzed by fear and humiliation, she’d begun changing when she’d stood in front of a church full of family and friends. She’d gone into hiding. And then, eight months ago she’d decided to dip her toes into possibility. Bruno had turned down her request for contractual changes, as she knew he would. With Cyclical, she’d been owned, her imagination, creativity, the property of someone else. It had taken her several months to gather the courage to disconnect. But when she’d made that decision, the wheels of change had begun. Tendering her notice, listing her condo, renting a storage unit. Those steps had taken courage. And each new decision had made the next easier. Arriving in the Sierras was huge. Today’s writing binge had been elemental, strengthening. Her open sparring with Micah liberating. It was all on a continuum. It made her wonder what she would do next. It made her question what seemed to be her complete lack of caution.

  Well, maybe not complete. As much as she lusted after Micah, she didn’t think she could seal the deal with him knowing he held out based on some character flaw he thought she possessed. She, finally, had more self-respect than that.

  Her silence drew his attention and he turned his gaze on her. In the shifting light of a starry night and street lamps, shadows and glare, his face looked sharper, the intensity in his eyes keener.

  “No,” she said. “Have you ever had that?”

  Caught as they were in eyes other’s gaze, she didn’t miss the flinch, though it was quick, there and gone. A flash of pain or regret. The recognition of loss. She’d seen it earlier that day, so brief but fierce, it’d been like a flash of lightning. In that moment she’d known that Micah had loved and lost.

  “I thought I did. But that was a long time ago.”

  Since he’d had no qualms treading on personal ground she asked, “How long ago?”

  “Three years. A little more than that.”

  “She let you down.” She heard it in his voice.

  “It happens,” he said.

  And of course she knew that. She’d experienced it herself but she’d also allowed it to continue, a personal weakness she hoped she had fixed. But with Micah she detected, from his tone and the sudden vibration of tension in his body, that it had taken him by surprise.

  They came to a cross-roads and turned right, towards town. They were on the main street and gradually the trees thinned out and businesses replaced residential property. Orange lights twinkled on store fronts and ghoulish ghosts and grave markers were on display. Halloween was fast approaching.

  “Isn’t love grand,” she said. Flippant although she felt anything but.

  “It can be,” he said. “With the right person.”

  His words were unexpected and weighted with wisdom. “Sounds like you’ve had it before.”

  But he shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen it. I know it works. Several of my brothers are married,” he explained. “And my parents have a strong relationship.”

  “So you have only secondary sources to go by.”

  “You sound like a scientist.” He chuckled. He found her words amusing, but Emme didn’t. She’d waited a long time for love and her hopes of ever finding it, and her belief in it as a real and shared emotion, were waning.

  “I’ve seen it before, too,” she acknowledged. “I guess I’ll only really believe it exists when I have it for myself.”

  Chapter Six

  Micah opened the door and allowed Emme to step into the diner ahead of him. As she passed, her hair brushed against his chin and her body brushed over his. It was a light touch, nothing personal intended, too bad his body didn’t believe it. His nostrils flared as he filled with her scent. Something citrus mixed with her warmth and it triggered a response in him that curled through his blood.

 
; He was aware of her on every level. A sexual attraction, absolutely. But her softness when she spoke about her past, of her dreams for the future, was equally intense. And she had a sense of humor that he enjoyed.

  He was thankful she had decided on the diner. The town was small enough that their choices for dinner were limited to that and a steakhouse where candles flickered on the tables and waiters spoke in hushed whispers. Emme wouldn’t seem quite so mysterious, so alluring, here under the fluorescent lighting.

  They were greeted by a waitress and told to find a clean table. Emme took the lead and Micah followed her to a booth next to the windows. He tried not to make a study of the natural sway of her hips or to think about how soft her body had felt in his arms earlier, when she’d cuddled up to him and faced down the realtor. But it was a struggle and he made himself picture a strip of black across her back side, the way magazines covered a woman’s “troubled spot” in their photos of fashion faux pas—the existence of which Micah only knew about because as part of his big brother supporting role during Crista’s pregnancy and beyond, he’d commiserated with her over the injustices in the female world.

  Emme slid onto the bench seat and dropped her purse and jacket next to her. Then she looked up at him.

  “You don’t look like a greasy spoon kind of guy,” she said.

  “There aren’t a lot of choices here.”

  “True.” She pulled the menus from behind the napkin dispenser and handed him one. “I can cook, you know.”

  “You mean, more than taking a box out of the freezer and pressing a few buttons on the microwave?”

  She arched a brow. “Yes. What you saw today was convenience food.”

  He nodded and opened his menu.

  “You never buy frozen?”

  “Never,” he confirmed. “When I’m short on time I pick up a ready-made salad, steaks and corn on the cobb. That’s my go-to and I can have dinner on the table in fifteen minutes.”

  He watched her nose scrunch at that. It was cute but fast becoming sexy and that put a serious bend in his thinking—since when had a woman’s nose become an aphrodisiac?

  “This isn’t a competition,” he assured her.

  “Not between you and me,” she agreed. “But between me and that other girl—” she gave a nod to the woman behind her—the woman she had been, he supposed, “definite history, definite do or die. There can be only one winner. Only one of us will march in the parade—majorette or major-ass.”

  He choked on his water, on laughter tangled with a groan of protest.

  “You don’t really see yourself that way—” he began, but she cut through his words, determined to keep the conversation moving in her direction.

  “So how did you get that muscle,” she asked, and nodded at his biceps. “And how do you maintain it?”

  He folded his menu and laid it on the table.

  “I think about what I eat,” he told her. “In terms of energy but also what it can do for me. You know, vitamin c cuts a cold in half and potassium will lift a bad mood. That kind of thing.”

  “Is that true?”

  “It works for me,” he said. “But also, I think of the demands I’ll put my body through. If I know I’m going on a long hike, I want protein and carbs that are sustaining. If I’m going to have a lazy day, I adjust the amount of food I eat.”

  “What about cravings?”

  “Cravings?” He said it like it was a foreign language. “Men don’t get those.”

  “You’d never die for a piece of chocolate?”

  “Never,” and his tone was serious. “A man’s cravings are pretty base.”

  “You mean sex.”

  He nodded and feigned a sadness that didn’t play because it was accompanied by a crooked grin. “We have a one track mind. Even if it wasn’t on the menu we’d ask for it.”

  She accepted that. Every man she’d ever met seemed preoccupied by it.

  “What about pizza and beer in front of the TV on game day?”

  He nodded. “I do that.”

  “But you run ten miles first.”

  “I do something,” he agreed. “Lately, I’ve been into ocean swimming and I might even break out my old board and get back into the surf. I live in San Diego,” he explained and then wanted to kick his own ass as Emme’s eyes flared.

  “Me, too. What part?”

  The waitress saved him. She wasn’t even close to Lara Croft and wouldn’t cut it in Wonder Woman’s outfit, either, but she did arrive on cue and prop her hip against their table as she pulled her pen from a pocket and asked, “Ready?”

  Too bad the question came from the wrong woman.

  He ordered the cobb salad and asked for a second grilled chicken breast. Emme thought about the tuna melt she’d had her heart set on. Fish was healthy, but not the butter, the frying or the globs of mayo mixed in with the tuna. All the negatives wiped out any positives. She set down her menu and ordered the Greek salad with grilled chicken. She stuck with water. And she reminded herself that sacrifice was often met with reward.

  She settled back against the bench seat and let her eyes feed on Micah. “So, are your sister’s boys the only nephews so far?”

  He nodded. “Four of my brothers are married, but so far no kids. Esau’s wife is pregnant. Due in April. And, well, Thomas just tied the knot so it’s not like they’ve had a lot of time to work on it.” The marriage had been sudden. Happening so quickly, Micah and some of his brothers wondered if he was brought to the altar by something other than love.

  “You’re frowning,” Emme pointed out. “Something wrong with your brother’s wife?”

  Wrong with her? No. Micah had met Meg twice now and both times she had seemed nice. Distant, but easy going.

  “They eloped,” he said.

  “Vegas?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Emme shrugged. “Some people aren’t into the big wedding with all the planning and all the money that goes into it.” Her brother and Shae were going all-out with the arrangements but keeping it an intimate celebration with family and only a few close friends.

  Micah gazed at her from across the table. “We didn’t know he was dating anyone,” he confided. “And he didn’t tell us about the marriage until a few weeks afterward.”

  That rose Emme’s eyebrows. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I asked straight out if they had gotten themselves in trouble.”

  “You mean, if she was pregnant?” That was her first thought.

  “Exactly.”

  “And?”

  “He took a swing at me.” Micah’s expression darkened. “And that’s totally unlike Thomas. He’s the peacemaker in the family.”

  “So something is wrong.”

  “I think so.”

  “But you haven’t tried to figure it out?”

  He’d thought about it. Crista, too. They had the skills, the contacts. But snooping into his brother’s personal life was not the way to go. Besides, Micah found out only a few weeks ago, right about the time Gardi approached him with his current assignment.

  “I’m hoping he’ll come to me if he needs help.”

  “His little brother?”

  He nodded. “There are four years between us, but I’m the listener, remember? And I’m equal opportunity.” His brothers came to him as much as Crista did. He listened and his advice was always action-oriented.

  “How old are you Micah?”

  “Thirty-two on Christmas Eve.”

  So four years older than her. “I think at thirty-six your brother is old enough to know what he’s doing.”

  He nodded. “Usually. But he’s also the softest amongst us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He shrugged. “He’s the first to fall for the hard luck story.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re just jaded.”

  “Definitely,” he agreed.

  “Does your sister-in-law have a hard-luck story?”

  “Hard to tell. She doesn�
�t talk much.” And it was damned strange, the way she was always so composed. But even that wasn’t the right word. Meg held herself pretty tight. Tension came off her in waves. And she shied away from conversation.

  “You said you’ve met her twice. Were they at family gatherings?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That can be pretty intimidating.”

  Especially with his big and noisy family. He agreed with her but changed the subject. “Tell me more about your family.”

  “My dad died six years ago. It was unexpected. A work-related accident. My mom is great. Strong and supportive. She’s remarrying in December. I have an older brother, Ethan, and a younger sister Evie. She was married over the summer and Ethan’s turn is coming up next month.”

  “That’s a lot of weddings this year.”

  “Yeah.” Everyone but her.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Why? Because I was left at the altar and all that?”

  “Yeah. All that.”

  She thought about it. It bothered her in the sense that she would be the only one without someone to share her life with. But there was still time for that. “No. I’m happy for them and I had a lot of fun with Shae, helping her plan their wedding.” But she wasn’t looking forward to attending it. Getting through Evie’s had been hard. She’d felt like everyone was staring at her, their eyes heavy with sympathy. Suffering through her sister’s wedding day—a day she should have been freely celebrating—had been a turning point for her. She’d gone home that night and typed out her notice. It’d taken her seven more drafts to get it right. She didn’t want to be someone others pitied.

  “Now you’re frowning,” he said.

  “I’m not looking forward to it,” she confessed. “Evie’s wedding was almost unbearable. Not because my relationship had ended, but because of all the sympathetic looks and comments.” The gentle pats on her back. It made her teeth ache. “Of course, there’ll be different people and I’ve already cleared the hurdle, so maybe it won’t be too bad.”

  “When is it?”

  “Thanksgiving.”

  “By then you’ll be showing a little muscle,” he said.