Mountain Charm Read online

  Overwhelmed and just a little giddy, Angelina began to giggle. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, and she felt him smile against her skin.

  “That’s been building for a while,” Dylan said, smiling up at her.

  “No kidding.”

  He chuckled before crawling off the bed. Angelina was about to protest, but then she realized what he was doing. Seconds later, she heard the rip of foil, and then he was back, hovering over her and kissing her tenderly.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you.”

  His eyes never left her face. Holding his breath, he watched Angelina’s every grimace and felt every clutch of her fingers against his skin. He moved slowly, gently, until finally, the creases in her forehead started to fade, and her grasp on his shoulders began to relax.

  Sex wasn’t new territory for Dylan, but as he made love to the woman of his dreams, he couldn’t help but think this should have been his first time, too. Every breathless whisper, every frantic touch, and every quiet breath vibrated through him, and when Angelina cried out his name, he felt a feral sense of pride, knowing he was the only man who would ever touch her this way, and his would be the only name she ever screamed.

  Dylan was the first one to wake the next morning. His eyes hadn’t even opened before he was pulling her closer, despite the fact they were already nestled in each other’s arms. They’d fallen asleep just like this—with her back pressed to his chest and his arms draped around her. Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled deeply, loving the scent of her. Of them.

  He frowned as he felt his body respond to her closeness and warmth. Despite his intentions to be as tender as possible, he was sure she would need time to recuperate. They had made love twice last night. Hours had passed between each, and the second time had taken much longer than the first. Initially, Dylan had been too concerned with hurting her to really love her the way he’d wanted. The second time, however, Angelina had climbed on top of him, and he’d been more than willing to let her take control. They explored and discovered and even laughed, and when she finally fell asleep in his arms, he had stayed awake for hours, listening to her soft snores and loving the feel of her skin against his.

  Angelina continued to sleep as he lowered the blanket, letting his fingertips drift along her spine. It was the one part of her body that had been kept hidden from him in the darkness, and he smiled as he explored the arch of her back. His eyes drifted lower, and that was when he saw her tattoo.

  Dylan smiled, remembering the night when she’d refused to let him see it, and now he understood why. It was right on the curve of her hip, hidden discreetly each and every day. The design was a simple one of two small, intersecting hearts surrounded by vines. His fingers caressed the flesh as he wondered what it symbolized to her.

  “You found my secret,” Angelina said.

  “Yes, I did.” Dylan lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss along the ink. “Good morning, baby.”

  “Good morning.”

  He traced the outline of the hearts. “What does it mean?”

  Angelina laughed quietly. “Maddie and I got matching tattoos when we turned eighteen. At the time, it represented us, but we also knew it could mean something more. Two intersecting hearts can signify friendship. Lovers. Husband and wife. Parent and child. The possibilities were endless, and that’s why we chose it. We liked that it could symbolize so many different things. Our past. Our present. Our future.”

  Dylan crawled back up her body, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest. Angelina turned her head in search of his lips, and she sighed softly when she found them.

  “You’re my future,” he murmured. “You believe that, don’t you?”

  Angelina placed her palm against his cheek.

  “I’m starting to, yeah.”

  They lay together, enjoying the quiet and warmth, until Angelina’s rumbling stomach shattered the silence.

  Dylan laughed. “Hungry?”

  “Obviously.” With a giggle, she turned around in his arms. “Checkout is at eleven. We should order room service and then get packed.”

  He nuzzled her nose. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Dylan leaned in to kiss her just as his cell vibrated on the night stand.

  “Not important,” he murmured against her lips.

  “It might be.”

  Sighing heavily, Dylan reached for his phone, not bothering to look down at the screen before barking hello at whoever dared to interrupt his perfect morning. He closed his eyes as David Murray’s voice washed over him.

  “Celia’s in the hospital,” David said.

  Angelina managed to hold back her tears as Dr. Campbell explained that anemia wasn’t unusual for chemotherapy patients, and this would explain why her mother had been suffering from fatigue and dizziness over the past few days.

  Angelina and Dylan exchanged confused looks.

  “We didn’t know,” Angelina murmured guiltily. “I mean, she’s been very nauseated, but she didn’t tell us . . .”

  “She told Mr. Murray,” the doctor said. “That’s why he brought her in. Celia wasn’t a bit happy about it, either, but she didn’t have the strength to fight him. It was a good thing he did, too. If she’d waited much longer, she might have required transfusions. As it is, we’re going to prescribe some medication and monitor her closely until we get her hemoglobin levels closer to where they need to be. And we’ll have to stop chemo for a while to give her body a chance to recover.”

  Angelina’s head was swimming. Now we’re stopping chemo?

  “For how long?” Dylan asked.

  “We’re not sure yet. Let’s see how she responds, okay?” Dr. Campbell placed a reassuring hand on Angelina’s shoulder. “You can see her if you like.”

  Angelina nodded numbly, and Dylan took her hand, leading her down the hallway that led to Celia’s room. Maybe it was the smell of antiseptic that seemed to permeate the hospital walls, but nausea hit her like a lightning bolt, and she gripped Dylan’s arm for support.

  “Are you okay?”

  Angelina nodded as they continued down the hallway.

  Her mom had been sicker than she’d let on, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Celia hadn’t wanted anything to keep Angelina from attending the wedding.

  “Here she is,” Dylan said, pointing toward the room number. When they stepped inside, neither of them were surprised to find David sitting at Celia’s side, holding her hand in his. He offered them a tired smile. Celia seemed to be resting. Her eyes were closed, and Angelina couldn’t help but notice how pale her mother appeared.

  Angelina wanted to cry. Needed to cry.

  But she couldn’t. She had to stay strong.

  For now, anyway.

  David gently placed Celia’s hand on the bed before rising to his feet. Angelina walked straight to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and thanking him for taking such good care of her mom.

  “She’s very special to me,” David whispered.

  “I know she is.”

  David offered Angelina the chair next to her mom’s bed, and she took it gratefully. Her head was still spinning, but at least the nausea was subsiding. She heard Dylan ask David if he’d like some coffee, and she was thankful. He knew she needed this time with her mom without an audience.

  “Please don’t go too far.”

  “We won’t.” Dylan leaned down and kissed her forehead before taking David’s arm and leading him out into the hall.

  Angelina’s eyes raked over her mom’s body. Reaching for Celia’s hand, she noticed the coldness of her mother’s skin and the faint blue shade of her fingernails. She knew enough about anemia to realize these were common symptoms, but that did little to relieve the knot of tension in Angelina’s stomach.

  Had her mom’s nails been blue for days? How had she missed that?

  “I wish there was some magic spell . . . some miraculous herb that co
uld ease your pain. I wish my hands could do whatever they were designed to do. If there was something, you’d tell me, right? If there was some ancient spell that could make this go away, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  Angelina closed her eyes as the tears began to fall.

  “I would,” her mom’s voice rasped, and Angelina’s eyes snapped open. “If there was any way to ease your suffering, don’t you think I would?”

  “It’s not my suffering I’m worried about.”

  Celia offered her daughter a weak smile.

  “Why didn’t you tell me how sick you were?” Angelina asked. “You needed me.”

  “Maddie needed you, and David took very good care of me. Besides, I knew this weekend would be important for you and Dylan, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to miss a moment of it.”

  Despite her teary eyes, Angelina smiled.

  “I told him I love him.”

  Celia’s smile lit up her entire face.

  “That’s wonderful, Angelina. I believe he needed to hear that.”

  “I believe he did, too. I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

  Celia squeezed her daughter’s hand. It was just a gentle pressure, but it was comforting.

  “And I shouldn’t have hidden my symptoms from you. I’m sorry I did that, even if my intentions were good.”

  “Please don’t do that again. I need to know everything. I can’t take care of you if I don’t.”

  “I won’t,” Celia promised.

  Angelina spotted a bruise that had formed on her mother’s arm, and she placed her finger along the purple blemish.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” her mom said. “It’s just part of it.”

  “I know. I could try to heal it.”

  Celia laughed softly. “Better not. The doctor might get suspicious if my bruises begin to fade too quickly.”

  Angelina grinned. She hadn’t thought of that.

  “Besides, healing isn’t just done with the hands,” Celia told her. “You can heal with your spirit. You can heal with your heart. That’s what you do for me. Seeing you happy and in love with a wonderful man. Watching how devoted he is to you. And yes, we can give credit to the spell for bringing him into your life, but magic can only do so much. It’s love, Angelina. It’s love that keeps him here. Never doubt that.”

  Celia closed her eyes. Her breathing evened out and Angelina was sure she had drifted off to sleep, but suddenly, her mom’s fragile voice filled the air once more.

  “You heal me every day. You just can’t see it. But trust me, you do.”

  “But will it be enough?”

  Her mom’s eyes drifted open, and she gave her daughter a watery smile.

  “Yes, Angelina, I believe it will be enough.”

  Something passed between them—a brief moment of realization and understanding— and Angelina felt her spirits soar.

  “There will be healing, Angelina—for all of us.”

  Celia’s eyes closed, and her soft snores filled the air.

  Overwhelmed with relief, Angelina buried her face in her hands and wept as her mom’s words echoed in her ears.

  There will be healing.

  Dylan was surprised when Angelina asked him to take her home to Maple Ridge. Sure, Celia’s hospital was just an hour away in Knoxville, but he’d expected Angelina to demand a cot. The doctor had explained that Celia would most likely sleep the rest of the night, and Mr. Murray had offered to stay at the hospital, giving Angelina and Dylan the chance to go home if they wished.

  When he and David had returned to the room, Angelina was weeping while Celia slept peacefully. Dylan had no idea what had transpired in the fifteen minutes they’d stepped out to get coffee, but whatever it was had convinced Angelina it was okay to return home for the night. She was smiling a little too brightly despite her tears, but he would never complain about her smiles, especially after the day she had endured.

  When it was time for bed, it wasn’t even a question if he would stay.

  After stripping down to nothing, Angelina and Dylan crawled into bed, wrapping the blanket around them. Once again, she took the lead, straddling his hips and hovering above him. Dylan moaned as she settled herself on him, and she laced her fingers through his hands as they began to move. He closed his eyes, letting her control their every movement, until finally he had to touch her, too. Letting go of her hands, he gripped her hips and raised himself up, causing Angelina to whimper when his mouth molded to hers.

  Home sweet home.

  When Celia was released from the hospital three days later, Dylan noticed a distinct change in Angelina’s mood. She smiled all the time—even when she was administering her mom’s medicine or begging Celia to take “just one more bite.” Peace resonated around the two of them, and while he was thrilled, Dylan couldn’t help but wish they would share a small part of that tranquility with him when it came to dealing with his father.

  He still had no idea what to do about his dad’s job offer.

  Dylan had to admit his old man was persistent. Charles or Beth emailed daily, asking if he needed more information, more money, more perks. Dylan wasn’t crazy. He knew the other columnists weren’t given the same royal treatment, and he hated that the nepotism had started already. Regardless, he couldn’t deny the money was fantastic, and he would be a fool to turn it down.

  But could he really work for a man he despised?

  Dylan was still contemplating that question when he arrived at Angelina’s shop later in the afternoon. He was stunned to find her sitting on the counter, clutching a piece of paper in her hand.

  “Baby?”

  Angelina’s head snapped up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the image nearly tore his heart in two.

  Slowly, he walked toward the counter, stepping between her legs. Angelina sighed as his hands soothingly rubbed her arms.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  Angelina wiped her eyes. “When my dad died, we placed the money from his life insurance policy into a savings account. It wasn’t a lot, but it had been enough to take care of mom’s treatments and medication. But we weren’t prepared for so many rounds of chemo, and we didn’t expect the stronger, more expensive medicine this time around. And . . .”

  Her voice trailed off, and Dylan took the paper out of her hand.

  It was her monthly bank statement.

  And the balance was less than a thousand dollars.

  Dylan had picked up enough of Celia’s prescriptions to know how costly they were. He had never asked about her treatments, but he knew they were expensive.

  “What about Social Security?” He had no idea how that worked.

  “Mom isn’t nearly old enough.”

  “Any other insurance?”

  Angelina shook her head. “She’s never had any.”

  “And it would be impossible to get it now.”

  Angelina nodded. “I’ve sat here all afternoon, wondering how I’m going to explain to my sick mom that the money is just . . . gone. We have income from the shop, but that’s how we take care of all the other bills.”

  She sniffled quietly and glanced around her father’s store.

  “I love this place so much. It’s been in my family since I was a little girl. Mom’s dream was to have a shop just like this, and because my dad lived to make her every dream come true, he bought it for her. But . . . I don’t know. I’ve had some offers for it over the years. Maybe it’s time.”

  “No, Angelina.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Don’t sell your shop. We’ll figure something out.”

  Angelina smiled gently. “It’s not your problem, Dylan.”

  “It is my problem. It’s our problem. And we’ll work it out.” He pulled her into his arms, resting his forehead against hers as quiet tears spilled down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry. I promise we’ll figure it out.”

  The answer was ridiculously easy.

  Dylan may have despised his father, but he loved Angelina, and there wasn’t any
thing he wouldn’t do to dry her tears.

  “It’s good to see you, Dylan.”

  “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.”

  Charles offered his son a chair before returning to his desk. “I’m very happy to hear you’re considering my offer.”

  “I’m willing to listen to what you have to say, yes.”

  “I’m glad. May I ask what changed your mind?”

  Dylan had been expecting this question.

  “I want to live close to Maple Ridge, and this job would allow me to do that. Your offer is unbelievably generous, and I’d be crazy not to consider it. But mostly, I’m here because I am in love with a beautiful, kind-hearted woman who has taught me that family is everything, and she believes I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t have at least one civil conversation with my father.”

  Charles smiled.

  “Well, why don’t we talk business first, and then we’ll work on the civil conversation.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “It’s a weekly column,” Charles explained, handing him a detailed sheet, listing the job description and ridiculous pay, along with a nice bonus to help with moving expenses. Dylan was sure none of the other columnists had such perks, but he wasn’t about to argue. Not anymore.

  “Your deadline is Wednesday at noon, and your article would run in Friday’s edition. Like I said, we’re looking for human interest stories. Hometown heroes, thriving local businesses . . . things of that sort. A local soldier is returning home after a two-year stint in Afghanistan. He’s agreed to an interview, and we’d like that to be your first feature.”

  “And Beth would remain my editor?”

  “Yes, you will continue to report to Beth. Your interaction with me would be minimal.”

  It was music to Dylan’s ears, and he was tempted to sign on the spot.