Moonstone: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance Novella (Jewels Cafe Book 11) Page 4

  Surprised at the revelation, Ginny couldn’t help wondering whether her reaction to the drink was more down to location and circumstances, rather than the actual contents of the paper cup. Back home, a latte was usually something she grabbed on the go, sipped while commuting, working, doing chores, always with something else on her mind, something to do, somewhere to be. Here, although technically she was still drinking it on the go, it wasn’t because she was rushing around, with a million things to do. In fact, the only thing in her immediate future was a chilly yet refreshing walk through a magical winter wonderland, which would result in arriving at an impressive rural house. Inside were her parents, tons of food, a gorgeous, stunningly-decorated Christmas tree, and a metric ton of festive cheer.

  Yes, that was it. The pumpkin spice latte, while undoubtedly delicious, was no more special than any other latte. It was just the effect of being in beautiful Silver Springs on Christmas Eve, combined with the excitement of what was around the corner.

  Just then, a tingle radiated out from her belly, through her limbs, and into her extremities, before contracting back and settling between her legs, as well as making her suddenly very aware of her breasts, even buried as they were beneath layers of clothing. What the hell? I’m excited about Christmas, yes, but not in that way. I haven’t got a bloody Santa fetish! Random horniness or what?

  Pushing the unexpected, not to mention uncalled for, sensations to the back of her mind, Ginny carried on walking and sipping. By the time she’d finished the drink, she was more than halfway to the retreat and on the open road with no litter bins in sight, so she carefully stuffed the empty cup into her pocket, hoping none of the dregs dribbled out. She could throw it in the recycling when she got back.

  Her previous distractions over the latte and then the weird arousal—which, despite her ignoring it, still bubbled away beneath the surface, and was, if anything, growing stronger—meant she hadn’t been paying as much attention to her surroundings. Or the weather. The clouds which had hunched on the horizon earlier in the day had now been whipped overhead by the wind, and loomed threateningly. Everything seemed very gray, even the virgin snow on either side of the road, beyond where she guessed the pavement was—though they called it a sidewalk here, she remembered. The blizzard was imminent.

  Ginny’s pulse fluttered. No need to panic, stupid. You’re almost back. It doesn’t matter how grim those clouds look, they’re not going to dump enough snow in the next ten minutes to bury you alive. Hopefully.

  Despite her self-reassurance, she picked up her pace, more than ready now to be holed up safely in the retreat with her parents, warm and dry.

  If only this bloody arousal would sod off! I’m hardly in a position to scratch the itch right now, am I? I could easily be knee deep in snow if I wanted, but not knee deep in suitable blokes—

  Her thought process was abruptly curtailed as she rounded a slight bend in the road, which should have provided her with a view—albeit a distant one—of the end of the retreat’s driveway. The home stretch. Instead, however, of seeing the entrance to the property, of being able to make out the welcome sign, the sight that greeted her was something else altogether. A huge, black SUV sat at the side of the road, with two figures—no, make that three—standing beside it.

  She frowned. Why on earth would someone pull over there? Surely they weren’t lost? They’d be able to use GPS, or, if they had trouble with that, wouldn’t they have gone up to the retreat to ask for help, rather than lingering by the entrance to the driveway? And who was driving around with a blizzard imminent, anyway?

  Oh God, they weren’t casing the place, were they? She’d read about criminals back home who broke into houses in the days running up to Christmas to steal presents—why wouldn’t the same thing happen here? But then, why would they be casing in broad daylight—well, okay, dim daylight, and growing dimmer by the second—and from such a distance that they’d barely be able to see the house, never mind what might potentially be in it? Even if they got closer, they had the gate and fences to contend with.

  A moment later, her question—or one of them, anyway—was answered when the bonnet of the vehicle was lifted up. Ahh, they’ve broken down. She gulped and glanced up at the clouds, which looked as though they were going to unload their burden at any second. Shit timing.

  As she closed the distance between her and the vehicle, two of the men—she could tell they were men now; decked out in jeans, sturdy boots, and warm coats, mercifully—caught sight of her. The third man was busy beneath the bonnet. She smiled and raised a gloved hand. “Hello! Are you all right?”

  “Not really!” came the response. “Damned thing has broken down.”

  She waited until she was alongside them before responding. Their respective breaths formed small clouds of vapor in the air around them. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do? Anyone I can call for you?”

  She took in the scene. The man—presumably the SUV’s owner—hadn’t even acknowledged her. He was too busy leaning over the engine block, muttering to himself and poking and tweaking at things. He was tall and well-built, but that was all she could figure out, given his thick coat and a black fleecy hat which was pulled so low that she hadn’t a clue what he looked like.

  The other two were much more forthcoming. The one who’d spoken wasn’t short, exactly—not in comparison to her, anyway—but was smaller than his companions. She guessed he was at least a handful of years older than her, with a face that somehow managed to be both kind and a little stern at the same time. The third guy was taller, with a look of mischief about him. How she’d figured that out from merely a glance and without even having spoken to him, she wasn’t sure. It was just a feeling.

  Kind but stern guy shrugged and quirked an eyebrow. “Thanks, but there’s no one to call. It’s Christmas Eve. Auto shops’ll be closed now until the 27th, at least. Anyway, Trent there,” he jerked his head towards the guy muttering at the engine, “knows a little about cars, so maybe he’ll get us going again.” He peered upwards. “I sure hope it’s soon. That does not look good.”

  “No,” she agreed, “it really doesn’t. Um…” She racked her brain for something she could do to help. She knew nothing about cars, had never even owned one, having lived in London all her life. There was no point. And these guys were clearly locals, so already knew the garages—auto shops, he’d called them—would be closed for a few days. “Do you need any tools or anything? My parents’ place is just here,” she pointed towards the driveway to the retreat, “so maybe my dad has something that can help? I can at least bring you something warm to drink while you, er, wait?”

  Kind but stern guy and mischievous looking guy exchanged a glance, looked over at their friend, then back at her. Mischievous looking guy spoke this time, a glimmer of amusement in his brown eyes. “I think we’re good for tools, thanks. Trent’s got some in the back. But a warm drink would be much appreciated. Want me to come with you? Help you carry them?”

  Ginny hesitated. Inviting a total stranger—albeit a sexy one, she acknowledged—into her parents’ home? Was that a good idea? What if it was all some kind of elaborate ruse to get inside so they could, in fact, case the joint? See what was worth stealing? They could all pile in right now, threaten violence, take what they wanted, and disappear off into the imminent blizzard, never to be seen again.

  Further grumbling saved her from having to reply right away, followed by a couple of expletives. She turned to see Trent straighten, kick one of the vehicle’s tires, then stomp around and haul himself into the driver’s seat. What followed was the unmistakable sound—even to her untrained ears—of an engine that wasn’t firing. There was a chugging noise, laborious, but the usual next stage, the roar of chemicals and machinery doing their thing, didn’t come. Just a kind of wheeze, which paused as Trent switched the ignition off, then a thump as he whacked the steering wheel. He accidentally caught the horn, which blew out into the silence of the gray-white landscape, echoed, then disappeared.

  Ginny turned wide eyes on his friends, who didn’t look particularly surprised by his behavior. Whether it was the broken-down vehicle or the temper they were used to, she had no idea. Either way, she was fairly certain they weren’t faking the SUV not starting. “Uh, sure.” Then an idea barreled into her head. “Hey, maybe my dad can give you a jump start?”

  Mischievous guy nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m not sure exactly what’s wrong—and I’m not gonna ask him just now—but that’s gotta be worth a try, right?” He glanced at stern but kind guy.

  “I think so, if your dad doesn’t mind turning out. We’d be mighty grateful.”

  “Great!” She hesitated as she envisioned walking into the house and starting to introduce her companion to her parents, only to realize she didn’t know his name. Well, that was rectified easily enough, at least. “By the way, I’m Ginny Miles. My parents own and run the retreat just here.”

  She held out a hand to mischievous guy, who shook it. The action felt weird through their respective pairs of gloves, but there was no sense in anybody removing layers right now, not even for the sake of politeness. It was way too cold. “I’m Landon Jacobs. Very pleased to meet you.”

  She shook hands with stern but kind guy next. “Kai Campbell. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your help.”

  Ginny shrugged. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “But you’ve offered, so we’re grateful nonetheless,” Kai replied.

  With a smile, she said, “All right. So, Landon,” she said slowly, rolling the unfamiliar name around on her tongue, “shall we go and get those drinks, and see if my dad can help?”

  “Sure.” He smiled back, the action pushing deep dimples into his cheeks.

  The sight tipped Ginny’s mi
nd off its current track and onto its earlier one—from practical and helpful to horny in the blink of an eye.

  Shit, she thought as she and Landon turned and began making their way up the track, I might not be knee deep in suitable guys, but I’ve gone from zero to two, just like that. And I’m hornier than ever.

  Chapter Seven

  Ginny and Landon had just passed into the gated-off area of the property when the snow began to fall.

  Landon let out a groan. “Oh, shoot. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, huh?” He flashed Ginny a wry smile.

  She smiled tightly back, resolutely ignoring the dimples, the glint in his warm, chocolate-brown eyes, the pinkness in his cheeks from the cold… “Mmm-hmm.”

  He frowned a little at her noncommittal response, then seemed to dismiss it. “It sure is beautiful here, isn’t it? The landscape, the lake… you must love living here.”

  “Oh,” she replied, shaking her head, “I don’t live here.”

  “But you said your parents—”

  “They do, I don’t.” She took a breath. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed from the accent, I’m British. From London. My parents are, too. They retired out here five years ago, and I’m visiting for the first time for Christmas.”

  “You’re visiting for… the first time, period, or the first time during the holidays?”

  “The first time… period.”

  “Wow.” Landon’s dark eyebrows disappeared beneath his gray woolly hat. “They’ve been out here five years, and you’ve only just come to visit?”

  Ginny bristled. He did have a point, she supposed, but… “Yes, well, there were reasons.”

  Landon bit his lip, chagrin etched into his handsome features. “Reasons that are none of my business. I’m sorry, Ginny. I had no right to judge you. I didn’t mean to, it just kinda slipped out. I guess it shows how small my world is, huh? I live and work in the town where I was born and raised. Same for Trent and Kai. I don’t know what I’d do if my folks upped sticks and moved thousands of miles away, and across an ocean.”

  “You’d just get on with things, like I did. You’re not a child.” The words came out more harshly than she’d intended, and it was only then she realized just how sensitive the subject was. God, had she really buried these feelings so deep that she was completely out of touch with them?

  Landon closed his eyes for a moment, then tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Darn it, I think I oughta just shut my trap. Nothing I’m saying is coming out right. I’m trying to make conversation, and all I’m doing is riling you up. I sincerely apologize. I’m not doing it intentionally. I’m just… well, I guess I’m just an idiot.”

  He looked so forlorn that she surprised herself again by laughing out loud, then shaking her head. “It’s all right, don’t worry about it. I’m made of tougher stuff than that. So, why don’t you tell me about yourself? And what’s going on back there?” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, towards the road.

  “Sure.” He grinned widely, his relief evident as his shoulders relaxed. “The three of us are lifelong friends—been together since kindergarten. We live a couple towns over, and we are, were, on a supply run for Trent’s ranch. He runs it with his pop. They keep horses. Kai’s done working for the holidays, and I’m freelance, so I work whenever I want. Or don’t work, in this case. Trent’s pop is feeling under the weather, so we offered to help him out. Not that I’d ever say it to him, but he’s not getting any younger. We were hoping to get back home before the weather turned.” He gave another glance at the sky, now darker still, with the flakes of snow falling faster, and growing larger. “We would have just about made it, too, except the truck decided to throw a hissy fit.” He rolled his eyes. “Crappy timing, or what?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” They reached the house, and Ginny climbed the steps onto the porch. She shook herself off and stamped her feet to remove the snow, then opened the door—which now sported a beautiful Christmas wreath—and stepped inside. Landon mimicked her actions before following her. He closed the door behind them, sealing them off from the increasingly bitter cold. “Mum, Dad—I’m back!” She thought about announcing her tagalong, but figured it’d sound rude, or weird, to start shouting that through the house.

  Deborah appeared from the direction of the kitchen, all smiles, bringing with her the scent of further baking. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re—oh, who’s this?” She took in Landon, her eyebrows raised and her smile wider than ever.

  Well aware of where her mother’s mind had gone—she probably mentally already had them paired up—Ginny said, “Mum, this is Landon. He and his friends are having some car trouble. They’ve broken down at the end of the driveway. I hope it’s okay, but I offered to bring them some warm drinks, and thought maybe Dad could give them a jump start?” She suddenly considered how impractical her father could be, and a stone of dread dropped into her stomach. “He does have some jump leads, doesn’t he?”

  Deborah shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest. I’m not sure he even knows what to do with them. Okay, first things first.” She swept over and held her hand out to Landon. He removed his gloves, and they shook. “It’s lovely to meet you, Landon. I’m Deborah. And of course,” she glanced at her daughter, a glint in her eyes, “it’s okay to take this handsome young man and his friends warm drinks. They’re most welcome to come inside and drink them, rather than standing out there. I see the snow’s started.”

  Ignoring her mother’s blatant Look Ginny, he’s handsome, did you see? hint, Ginny replied dryly, “Thanks, Mum.”

  “Yeah, thank you, Mrs. Miles. It’s very kind of you.”

  Deborah stood there, gazing between the two of them a tad dreamily, as though imagining what their babies would look like.

  Bloody hell, Mum. Could you be any less subtle? Landon probably thinks she’s cuckoo.

  Ginny cleared her throat. “Where’s Dad?”

  Jumping a little, Deborah focused on her daughter. “Oh, he’s in his man cave. I don’t know what he’s doing—I’ve been banned from going inside.” She chuckled. “But I’ve been married to the man forever. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s wrapping my Christmas presents.”

  Shifting uncomfortably, Ginny replied, “Would you, er, mind fetching him? I’ll go and make a start on the drinks.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She twitched the net curtain aside and peered out, then turned away from the window with a doubtful expression. “Time is of the essence here, I see. We need to get you boys on your way before the snow gets too heavy, don’t we?” Without another word, she scurried off.

  Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Ginny turned and smiled at Landon. “We’ll get you sorted, don’t worry. Shall we go and make those drinks?” She removed her gloves, hat, coat, and scarf, and hung them on the coat rack, then took off her walking boots and stowed them on a mat beneath the rack.

  Landon did the same—revealing a glorious head of curly, almost-black hair when he took off his hat—then they made their way into the kitchen. “This is a beautiful home,” he said, looking around.

  “It is,” she agreed. “I only arrived yesterday, so I’m still getting used to it. It’s a little different to my flat in London, and the house I grew up in.”

  “I can imagine.” Then he let out a bark of laughter. “Actually, I can’t. Like I said, my world is small. Ridiculous, really, for an artist.”

  “Ohh, you’re an artist?” Ginny went to a cupboard and pulled out six clean mugs. “What kind?”

  Landon walked over and leaned on the edge of the work surface a couple of feet away from where Ginny was busying herself with the drinks. “Paintings, mostly, but I do sketches, too.”