Can't Fight This Feeling. Christie Ridgway
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update?” he asked.
Mac’s expression looked way too innocent. “On the historical society fund-raiser. Angelica had a hand in it. Remember the one that Poppy and Ryan attended about a month ago?”
“I don’t listen to half the things she prattles on about,” he said.
Mac rolled her eyes in Angelica’s direction. “Men! And then they wonder why they have so much trouble with us. If only they’d pay attention every once in a while.”
Rather than speaking, Angelica responded with a tentative smile. With that pair of crystalline eyes on her, it was hard to think.
“I rarely have trouble with women,” Brett said.
“Because they’re often much too accommodating,” Mac retorted. She directed her attention back to Angelica. “Are you married? Have a boyfriend?”
“No. I’m, um, on my own right now.”
“Isn’t that fascinating? Brett’s on his own right now, too.” She shot the man a look. “Or has that changed?”
When he didn’t answer, Angelica gestured between the two on the other side of the counter. “Oh. I thought maybe you two might be married.”
Mac let out a loud hoot. “No, thank you. He’s my brother.”
It wasn’t relief or anything like it that sluiced through her, Angelica told herself. Or if it was, it was only because it would have been humiliating to have spent so much time fantasizing about a guy who was already spoken for. “I met your sister once, then. Shay?”
“Sure.” Mac glanced over at Brett. “So our brother introduced you?”
“Angelica introduced herself,” Brett said. “And if I recall correctly, she thought Shay might be my girlfriend.”
“Hmm.” Mac tucked her thumbs in the front pockets of her jeans. “You seem very interested in my brother’s relationship status,” she murmured.
Angelica barely registered the other woman’s remark, as the memory of that particular meeting ran through her mind again. “You told her I was a useless piece of fluff,” she said to Brett. It had hurt then. It still hurt.
He winced. “You heard that?”
“Never mind,” Angelica muttered. “I’ve got to go.” The universe, clearly, had its back still turned to her. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, nodding to Mac. Then she headed for the door.
“Wait,” Brett began, but she was already out the door.
When it shut behind her, she began jogging, even though the heels of her boots wobbled on the uneven sidewalk. No matter, she needed to put distance between herself and the man who always made her feel awkward and uncertain—not to mention hot and hyperaware of every inch of skin.
“Hey!”
She’d only made it half a block from Mac’s business so, pretending she didn’t hear Brett’s voice, she moved faster.
Then a hard hand closed around her elbow. She skidded to a stop. Rounding on him, she yanked her arm from his hold. “What now?” she demanded, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
He stepped back, then he smiled.
It was devastating. He’d never smiled at her, but there it was, a slice of white teeth and attractive lines around the corners of his beautiful eyes. How she despised herself for being so susceptible to him. She slammed her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“You’re pretty cute when enraged.” His smile widened when she made a low, furious sound in her throat and he held up his palms. “You can retract your claws, kitten. I’m not here to steal your catnip.”
Still, he stole her breath. And if she wasn’t careful, he might steal something else. “What are you following me for?” she demanded.
“To deliver an apology.”
“Did your sister put you up to this?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s all my own idea, okay? That was a lousy thing I said to Shay. I was probably in a crappy mood and just mouthed off.”
“Probably in a crappy mood?”
“Okay, I’m sure I was in a crappy mood. You seem to bring out the worst in me.”
“I am devastated to hear that,” she said, her tone sarcastic.
He winced again. “Angelica—”
“Never mind.” She pretended to wipe a slate clean. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” He continued to watch her. “So.”
“So.” She refused to twitch. Then she couldn’t stand the silence a second longer. “Well... Have a nice life.”
One of his eyebrows rose, the one with the intriguing scar.
“We’ll likely never see each other again,” she explained.
“It’s a small town,” he said, rubbing his palm over his hair in that habitual gesture.
She shrugged. “Just in case, then.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Just in case then,” he finally agreed. “Be happy.”
It would only take a job, some place to live and a way to forget all about him. “I intend to,” she said, and hoped that intention was enough to make it so because luck hadn’t been on her side lately.
BRETT RESISTED THE urge to watch Angelica walk off and instead turned to his truck, parked just a few feet away. Apology made, apology accepted and that should be enough to put her from his mind forever.
The breeze picked up as he fumbled with his keys. Autumn was doing its thing in the mountains. Warm sun, cool air, both energizing, and he should be looking forward to a day of vigorous outdoor work. Instead, he felt as if a weight was tugging him down.
We’ll likely never see each other again.
It had nothing to do with that.
The door unlocked, he jerked it open. The tall pile of paperwork he’d forgotten he’d set on the driver’s seat when he had exited the car began to slide off the cracked vinyl. He lunged for it, just as a rough, rogue gust caught at the sheets and sent them swirling. They flew about in the air, some behind the truck, some above the truck, some somersaulting like tumbleweeds along the asphalt in every direction as the wind blew.
He swore out loud and tried corralling the mass by stomping on the sheets near his feet and trapping others against his body. No way was he going to collect them all, he thought on a groan, snatching another that flew past his head. This was going to be a bookkeeping disaster.
Then, he glimpsed a figure in the periphery of his vision. He turned his head to see Angelica dashing about the scene, gathering up the errant documents. He allowed himself one second—okay, two—to admire her upturned ass when she bent over, then he continued on with his own search and seizure.
Several minutes later, the crisis seemed to have passed. When he turned in a 360, he couldn’t see any more fleeing papers. Angelica came toward him, her hair messy and her cheeks flushed, a mass of invoices and handwritten notes clasped against her chest. “I think we might have gotten them all.”
His own arms were full. “A good portion, anyway.” With his toe, he pushed on the lever that folded the driver’s seat forward and then stowed what he held on the narrow rear seat. Turning to Angelica, he said, “Let me take those.”
“I’ve got it.” She shuffled forward. “You stand behind me and block the wind while I