Caught in the storm: A steamy, forced

proximity romance book (Wells Creek 1)

Marie Harper Wright
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 CAUGHT IN THE STORM

MARIE HARPER WRIGHT

Copyright © 2024 by Marie Harper Wright
All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written
permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Also by Marie Harper Wright
About the Author
 C HAPTER 1

S tories were full of scenes where a heroine’s car breaks down, only for her to be immediately rescued by some hunk
she’d fall in love with. What you didn’t see was the heroine in goddamn pissing rain, soaked through and bitterly cold
in the worst storm to hit the UK in more than a decade and not one person stopping to help her out.
Stacy Davidson stepped back into the muddy bank on the side of the road as yet another car flew by without stopping.
She’d even been beeped. Beeped. For breaking down. And clearly drivers didn’t know what hazard lights were. Cars had
actually pulled up behind her expecting her to start driving.
Idiots.
She’d been stuck by the side of a long country road for the best part of an hour. Her rental car had died and the recovery
company was definitely fobbing her off as to whether they would get someone to her before she froze to death, or was swept
away by the blustering winds that weren’t set to stop for two days, or being flattened by a falling tree.
But what more did she expect when she’d come out here on a whim, trying to be independent and making her own
decisions?
At first, she’d sat in the car, getting colder by the second, being rocked from side to side with the gusts of wind that rattled
through the tree trunks around her. Now she was standing next to it so she wouldn't be crushed by a tree landing on top of it and
in the vain hope someone would stop to help.
Yet another crappy decision to add to the long list. There were less and less cars on the road as the storm worsened. Stacy
rocked from one foot to the next, pulling her khaki green raincoat closer to her. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best colour
choice. She now blended into her surroundings rather than sticking out. She should have brought the pink one that was shoved
in a box at her mum’s.
The rain pelted down through the gaps in the trees, soaking her jeans so they stuck to her legs. Her canvas trainers now
sodden and muddy.
What was her luck? She’d literally only arrived at her little holiday home today. Knowing the storm was coming, she
travelled early and ditched her suitcase at the cottage she’d rented in the village of Winton Green in Kent so she could grab
herself some essentials from the shops. But on the way home her car had spluttered to a stop.
She looked up at the swaying trees and a large drop of rain landed in her eye. Blinking it away, she looked back down at
the ground that seemed to be more river than road.
Why the hell had she come?
It was stupid. She was going to die out here in the middle of nowhere all because of a ridiculous idea to get away and⁠—
Headlights lit the road and she looked up at an oncoming car. She stepped back into the squelchy mud so she was as safe as
possible. The car didn’t slow down and drove straight past.
At least she didn’t get splashed.
Stacy sighed. Maybe she should walk back. There was no way the recovery truck would make it to her and be able to take
her to her cottage. Everyone was being told to stay indoors and not to make any non-urgent journeys. But what happened with
recovering trucks? Did they stay out? Was it safe for them? Stacy gulped. It was best not to think about it.
The road lit up again and another car drove past.
So much for famous countryside hospitality. Weren’t people in the country meant to be super nice and friendly? Her trainers
sank a bit farther into the mud on the road. So far country people seemed just as big of arseholes as city people were.
A car door slammed and Stacy turned at the sound.
“Are you okay?” A man walked towards her, his head bent against the wind and the rain. The car that had driven past was
pulled up a short distance in front of hers and he was making his way to her.
Okay, now she felt bad for slagging all country folk off.
“My car broke down and I’m waiting on the recovery truck,” she yelled across the simmering storm. Her heart rate sped up.
The man kept walking towards her, but even at this distance—when he was huddled over to protect himself from the worst
of the weather—she could tell he was big and muscly.
 “Why aren’t you waiting in the car?” he called back.
She pointed up to the trees. “I didn’t want to get crushed in there. Or the car to be blown over with me in it.”
He nodded. “What about being run over or dying of hypothermia?”
She shrugged. “It seemed like better odds at the time.”
He smiled at her. “Come on, let’s see if we can get this started for you. Pop the hood for me.”
She probably shouldn’t be trusting this man who she didn’t know and could snap her like a twig. But what choice did she
have? She opened the door and pulled the lever for the hood.
The stranger pulled it up and disappeared behind it. “Try starting the car,” he called.
“I did try that, you know? I’m not stupid.” Well, maybe in some things. But not stupid enough to not try the car multiple
times.
“I’m not saying you are, but if it miraculously starts working then at least we don’t have to be out in the storm any longer.”
He had a point. Stacy sat in the car and twisted the key in the ignition. The car jolted and spluttered. Nothing.
The man appeared at the door. “Here, let me try.”
Stacy was going to protest, but he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying you don’t know how to start a car, I just
want to try a few things.”
Stacy got out and slid past him. Holy crap, he was handsome. His chestnut brown hair now sticking to his forehead and
dripping onto chiselled cheekbones. And he was so tall, he seemed to tower over her.
Without paying her much attention, he sat in the driver's seat and tried the ignition himself. He twisted the steering wheel,
pumped the pedals, and shook the gear stick. But the car stayed silent.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He turned to her, a grim expression on his face. “I can’t lie, cars aren’t my area of expertise. I don’t
think I’m gonna get it started for you.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“You’re gonna have to come with me.”
Stacy froze.
He stayed seated. “Crap. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you can’t stay out here waiting for a recovery vehicle that
probably won’t get to you. You’ll freeze to death before it turns up. That’s if it can even get to you. What if these trees uproot
and block the roads?”
Stacy looked up at the swaying trees again. Some could have been hundreds of years old, but they were all moving
precariously. She really did need to get back to her cottage.
“I can give you a lift. Where do you live?”
Stacy swallowed down the lump in her throat. How the hell did this happen to her? Why hadn’t she stayed at home at her
mum’s? “I’m actually staying in a holiday cottage at Winton Green.”
“Yeah, I know Winton Green. You wouldn’t be staying at Jodie’s place, would you?”
The chains that had tightened around her chest eased slightly. Surely if he knew Jodie then he was probably a decent guy?
“Yeah, I am.”
“Well, if we’re quick then we might make it before the storm hits too bad. But it seems to be coming in quicker than they
said.”
He was acting like she didn’t have a choice whether she went with him or not. Which she didn’t really.
But if she could have a moment to decide…
He got out of the car. “Do you need to grab anything?”
Looked like her decision was made for her. She plucked her purse from the passenger seat and her food shopping from the
boot. The man followed her, helping with the bags as she locked the car.
Without waiting for her, he turned to his car and put everything into his boot. They piled into the front, finally closing the
doors on the pelting rain.
He turned in his seat and held out his hand. “I’m Matt.”
She shook it, his hand large and calloused against hers. “Stacy.”
The car shook in the wind as they belted up.
“It’s getting worse by the second,” he said as he turned the car on.
Hot air blasted from the air vents. Heaven. Stacy held her numb fingers in front of them.
He started driving along the road, his windscreen wipers swishing furiously, the car still rocking from the wind. Matt
wiped his wet hair from his forehead.
Surely serial killers weren’t this hot?
But who was she kidding? She would probably have died in the storm. So what did it matter?
Matt Wells hadn’t really looked at Stacy until he got in his car. Now they were out of the lashing rain and her hood was down,
he could see her properly. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail but was wet from being out in the storm, her lips were
a beautiful peach colour, and her eyes were a piercing blue. She’d stood just below his shoulders and he’d bet anything her
raincoat was hiding curves that would have had him salivating.
Wind whipped into his car, sending it veering.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and kept driving. He needed every bit of concentration on the road. The storm
was raging around them and they really shouldn’t be driving in it.
But they had no choice.
Stacy was still warming her hands in front of the vents.
“How long were you out in the rain?” he asked.
“My car broke down about an hour ago. But I was in the rain for about fifteen minutes, maybe.”
“Are you warming up?”
“Yeah, getting there. Thanks for stopping, by the way.”
“No worries. I couldn’t have just driven past.”
She gave a small laugh. “Everyone else had no problem doing that. I even got beeped.”
“You didn’t?”
“Yep. I thought you country people were meant to be nice.”
“Hey. I’m being nice.”
“Or trying to abduct and kill me. I haven’t made my mind up yet.”
Matt laughed with her. “I’m definitely not trying to do that. I have a sister, and if she’d been in the same situation as you, I
would want someone to help her out.”
Tree branches and twigs littered the road and Matt had to steer carefully around them. It was making his pace much slower
and the wind and rain was still hounding them.
“I was starting to think about walking back to the cottage.”
“You weren’t, were you? That wouldn’t have been safe in this weather.”
“My phone said it’s only ten minutes away.”
“Maybe when the cut-through is open, but they’ve dug up the whole road and there are steep banks on either side. So you
wouldn’t have made it past.”
“How far is it then?”
“The diversion is twenty minutes.”
Stacy looked up at the sky through her window. “Twenty minutes in this?”
Matt slowed down to carefully drive round a large branch that was in the middle of the road. “Twenty minutes for you.
Forty for me.”
Her head shot to him. “Where do you live then?”
“Not far from here.”
“So you’re going out of your way to take me home?”
“You can’t stand outside in this. Even in your car you’re in danger.”
“Aren’t we in danger in here too?”
He took a moment to reply. He didn’t want to scare her, she was already understandably wary of him. “Yeah. The storm
came in sooner than they thought. I only popped out to check in on my neighbour to make sure everything was secure for her and
she had enough food.”
“I’m sorry, you don’t need to drop me home. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Do you really think I’m going to leave you at the side of the road to walk in this? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
He kept driving, trying to go as quick as he could while still being safe on roads that were quickly turning to a muddy slush
strewn with debris. He could probably get Stacy to her cottage, but he didn’t know if he would make it back home again.
Matt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. She wasn’t going to like this suggestion. “I can offer you a bed at my house
during the storm. It’s not far from here now.”
She stiffened in the seat next to him. “Are we not going to make it?”
He sighed. “I’ve no idea. There could be a fallen tree on the road that we can’t get around. I might make it to your cottage,
but I don’t know if I’ll get back to mine. But I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His chest
tightened. This was sketchy and he wanted to be back in front of his fire at home. They were coming up to the turning he’d need
to take to head home. But he didn’t want to rush her.
“You’re not trying to kill me?”
He chanced a look at her and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. It wasn’t easy, seeing as he was six-foot-three.
“No. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have tried to start your car. I wouldn’t have bothered driving you and trying to get you
home. And I wouldn’t be giving you the option to go home. I’d never hurt a hair on your head. But the choice is yours.” He
turned his gaze back to the road.
If it were any one of his family, they wouldn’t have had a choice. He would have already taken control and made the plan.
Taken the obviously right decision.
But all he could do now was let Stacy, who was clearly stuck in a predicament, make the decision for herself.
Please make the right one.
“I want to get home and be safe.”
His heart plummeted that she didn’t trust him. But he was a complete stranger, so he couldn’t blame her. He’d want his
sister to be just as wary.
Trying to sound as light-hearted as possible and like she hadn’t just torn his gentleman’s pride up, he said, “Of course.”
He drove past his turning with a heavy heart and carried on down the twisting country lanes. The rain eased slightly, but
only because of the heavy canopy of trees above them. The wind still blew around them as they drove.
“Crap,” he muttered.
Up ahead, there was a large tree branch that was covering the entire road. He wouldn’t be able to drive around it or over it.
But maybe he could pull it out of the way. He slowed the car to a stop.
“What are you doing?”
He unbuckled his belt. “Hopefully I can move it.”
He got out of the car before she could respond. Although he could hardly close the door against the wind. He jogged to the
branch and started to pull it. It was heavier than he expected. Maybe he could pivot it to one side.
Lifting the branch by one end, he walked it round so it was laying along the side of the road and made a clear path. Well,
clear from a big branch. There was still mud, twigs and leaves, but at least he could drive over that.
He jogged back to the car, slipping on the mud as he did.
Throwing himself back into the car, he had to close his door with two hands and a hefty pull. He swiped his wet hair from
his forehead before buckling his belt up again.
“I’ll go back to yours,” Stacy blurted out.
He turned to her in surprise. “What?”
“The wind is getting stronger. The roads are getting worse. And that was a big branch in the road, who knows if the road
ahead is even clear. I can’t ask you to drive all that way with the possibility you wouldn’t even get home safe. So we’ll go to
your house. As long as you promise not to murder me.”
He couldn’t help but smile. She’d made the right choice. “I promise not to murder you.” Chucking the car in reverse, he did
a quick three-point turn.
They reached the safety of his road seven minutes later. Thankfully there had been no more large branches on the road and
as he turned into his private drive, he was grateful for not having trees lining it.
Although that meant they were now more exposed, and the wind swept across the open land surrounding his house and
rocked them even harder from side to side.
Stacy’s grip on the door handle and the edge of her seat was about as tight as his grip on the steering wheel. Normally he’d
park closer to the barn, but instead he stopped the car as close to the steps to his wrap-around porch as possible.
He turned the car off and the sound of the pelting rain grew louder. “Right, I’ll grab your bags from the boot, you start
getting inside. The front door is unlocked. Ready to get wet?”
She lifted the hood on her coat and placed her hand on the handle. “Let’s go.”
Matt bolted from the car, instantly drenched from the rain that was lashing down. He jogged to the boot and grabbed the
bags for Stacy before closing it and running to the front door. He didn’t stop till he got inside and slammed the door behind
him.
“Where the hell have you been?” Rebecca shouted.
 C HAPTER 2

T he woman who had shouted walked towards Stacy and Matt. Her long blonde hair had a slight wave to it and her eyes
were a captivating green.
Go figure that her hot murderer would be taken.
The woman hugged Matt. “We were worried about you. You should have called.”
Over her shoulder, at the other end of the room, were four men, all standing around the kitchen island.
What had she just walked into? Was this some strange reverse harem?
“Stacy,” Matt said, drawing her attention back to him. “This is my sister, Rebecca.”
Sister? Okay, that was better. But why was his sister here?
Rebecca held her hand out for Stacy to shake. She was slimmer than Stacy and quite a bit taller. “Nice to meet you, Stacy.”
The men walked towards them at a slower pace. There was a slight pressure on the small of her back as Matt guided her to
greet them. “These are my brothers, Sam, Nathan and Tom and this is my dad, Richard.”
Matt pointed to each man in turn and introduced her to them. All of them were tall, even his dad who although must have
been mid to late sixties was still in good shape. Matt seemed to be like his dad, dark hair and eyes and a strong build.
“Stacy’s car broke down in one of the lanes. We couldn’t get it to start and I don’t think recovery would make it to her, so
she’s crashing here during the storm.”
His dad thumped him on the back with a few hearty slaps. “Good lad.”
“Oh dear,” Rebecca said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just a bit soggy and windswept.”
“Let’s get that coat off of you so you can warm up a bit.” One of the brothers, Tom perhaps, stepped towards her but Matt
shoved the bag in his hands. “I’m sure Stacy is more than capable of taking her own coat off. Why don’t you be a gentleman and
take these bags to the kitchen?”
There was a silent exchange of glances between them, but Tom took the bags and headed to the kitchen counter.
“I’ll make a hot drink. What do you want, Stacy?” the blond brother—Sam maybe—asked.
“A tea with milk and one sugar would be lovely, please. And we can share the food I brought. As a thanks for saving me.”
Stacy unzipped her coat. “I’m dripping all over the floors. Sorry.” There was already a puddle on the beautiful dark wood.
“I’ll grab some towels,” Rebecca said as she turned and walked down a corridor.
“Don’t worry. I have too.” Matt was shrugging off his own sodden coat and hung it on a hook on the wall. He took Stacy’s
coat and placed it next to his.
“Why don’t you kids come and stand by the fire and warm up?” his dad said, pointing to the open fireplace that was roaring
in the living area.
The house was stunning. The room was open plan and spanned the length of the building. The front housed the living room
with a large brick fireplace surrounded by dark brown leather sofas and a TV nestled in the corner. At the back was the kitchen
and large dining table.
Stacy leant down to unlace her squelchy trainers. She eased them off, trying to keep the mud on the wooden floors to a
minimum. Matt shucked his off too. Even her socks were soaking, so she took those off too before padding to the fire.
Rebecca arrived with two thick, fluffy towels and Stacy wrapped one around her as she stood in front of the glorious fire. It
would take a long time before her bones felt warm again, but at least her fingertips were starting to defrost.
Matt stared into the fire, his hands held out in front of him to warm them. His hair had fallen into his eyes again and she
could have swept it away from his forehead for him.
Matt’s brother walked over with their cups of tea but retreated once they’d taken their drinks.
“So, do you all live here together?” Stacy asked. Everyone was in the kitchen and were unpacking her shopping bags.
Matt laughed. “No. I just invited them here to stay while the storm was raging.” He rested a hand on the mantelpiece and
stared into the fire. “Dad’s getting older now and I didn’t want him on his own. And I’d worry about them all, so it’s easier
they’re all in one place.”
 Stacy couldn’t help but smile. What she’d originally taken as mass murderer vibes were actually protective brother vibes.
It was…cute.
A trickle of rainwater dripped from his still wet hair.
Scrap that. It was fucking hot. She’d never had someone that wanted to protect her. Indifference? Definitely.
Stacy took a sip of her tea. “I understand your protectiveness now at least.”
He looked up at her. When his gaze met hers a shiver ran down her spine. What the hell was happening to her?
“What do you mean? I’m not protective, am I?”
It was Stacy’s turn to laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You know, the whole,” Stacy put on a voice, “you’ve got to come with
me. I’d want my sister treated like that. I’m not going to murder you.” She dropped the voice. “Some might even call you
overprotective.”
He laughed with her. “I’m definitely not overprotective.”
“Did I just hear that right?” the brother she thought was Tom said, walking over to them. “Matty isn’t overprotective?”
Matt rolled his eyes and walked past his brother to the kitchen with the others. He sipped his drink as he walked. “Caring
about you all isn’t being overprotective.”
His brothers laughed as they lounged around the kitchen. Stacy joined them, drawn to their family camaraderie and not
wanting to be left on the outskirts. Already she felt better about her decision. She could stay here during the storm. There was
something about them all, she just wanted to join in.
Tom leant his elbows on the kitchen island and spoke to Stacy. “When we were growing up, he was a nightmare if Mum and
Dad weren’t around. He saw it as his responsibility to look after us when they were gone. Typical oldest brother.”
“Ah,” Stacy said. “That makes so much sense now.”
“See, even Stacy can see and she’s known you for less than an hour.”
Matt sipped his drink again, letting his brother rib him.
The blond brother, Sam, spoke up, “We had a house party once when Mum and Dad had gone away for a weekend. Matt
was having a hissy fit about the younger ones being there and worrying if they were drinking, even though he’s not even ten
years older than Tom. He didn’t enjoy himself at all, and ended up confessing to Mum and Dad as soon as they walked back
through the door. But it was his idea in the first place.”
Stacy laughed with them, even Matt had a smile on his face. “It was getting out of hand,” he said. “And that was years ago.”
“Yeah, but what about this place?” Nathan said. “You built a house big enough for all of us to come and stay. He insists on
hosting Christmas and everyone staying over so we can have Boxing Day together.”
Rebecca went to Matt and cuddled into his side. “Don’t listen to them, Matt. They like your overprotective-ness when it
suits them.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I won’t. I don’t see them complaining when they get breakfast made the next day or when I
sort out their problems,” Matt said.
The brothers erupted into another chorus of laughter, and their dad looked on at them, a smile on his face, pride radiating
from him. That was a man who loved his family through and through. Unconditionally.
Her gaze landed on Matt whose eyes seemed to twinkle. It wasn’t hard to see who Matt got his love of family from.
A shiver ran down her spine and Matt turned to her, looking more serious than a moment before. “You’re still cold?” he
asked, leaning across to her and lowering his voice so no one else could hear. Not that they were paying any attention, they
were all chatting amongst themselves about another family tale that had them in stitches.
When Matt was this close, it was easy to get captivated by his deep brown eyes. They were the colour of tea just before
you put the milk in.
Not that she needed to be captivated by a man. She was here to forget all about them. To finally be independent.
“Just a little,” she admitted.
His easy smile dropped, and big brother Matt took his place. “I should have thought. How about a hot shower? And I can
show you the room.”
“Yes, please.”
“Come on then.” He nodded to the hallway. “This way.” He turned to the others. “I’m gonna get Stace settled, I’ll be back
in a minute to start dinner.”
She followed him, her cup in her hands, the towel still draped over her shoulders. It hadn’t slipped past her that Matt had
shortened her name. But she wasn’t going to pull him up on it when it made her heart skip a beat.
Matt opened the first door on the left and showed Stacy through to a bedroom.
Just like the main living area, the floors were wood and the ceilings were pitched showing dark beams. This place was
unlike any bungalow she had seen. It was more like the American ranch houses you’d see on TV.
“The en suite is through there,” Matt said, pointing to a door to the right. “The shower should be simple enough to work out.
You can have this room tonight.”
Stacy went to the radiator under the window, it was burning hot to the touch. “Perfect, I can hang my trousers on here to dry
out a bit.”
“Are they wet then?”
“Yeah, soaking.” The storm was still raging outside, but on this side of the house it didn’t seem so strong. The wind must be
blowing in from the other direction.
“You should have said, you could’ve changed sooner. No wonder you’re still cold.”
Stacy laughed, turning back to him. “I don’t have anything to get changed into, do I?”
Matt walked to a dresser and opened a drawer. He pulled out a pair of jogging bottoms. “Here, will these do?” He held
them out to her. “They might be a bit big but I’m sure you’ll be able to roll them up and tighten the cord.”
Stacy took the trousers. “Is this your room?”
“Course.” Matt closed the drawer.
“Where are you sleeping tonight, then?”
“On the sofa.” He closed the drawer like that closed the matter.
She gripped the trousers a bit tighter. “You can’t do that. I’ll sleep on the sofa, I don’t mind.”
Matt shook his head, a crooked smile on his lips. “On what planet do you think I’d let you sleep on the sofa? I’m happily
giving you my room. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Stacy tried to bite back her smile. “And you really can’t see why your family thinks you’re overprotective?”
“Hey, enough of the over, Miss.” Matt laughed, turning to the door. “Protective I can deal with. Overprotective makes it
sound like there’s no need to protect family. And there’s always a reason to protect the ones you love.” He opened the door.
“I’ll grab you a fresh towel.”
Stacy shifted on her feet, relaxing a bit. Matt seemed so sure about his decisions and everything he did. And his certainty
was infectious.
Matt returned a couple of minutes later with another large, fluffy towel.
“Also,” he said as he handed it to her, their fingers brushing each other’s softly. “I’ve been thinking. One minute you think
I’m a serial killer, the next I’m overprotective. I can’t win with you.” His eyes danced in the light.
So, he’d been thinking about her as he retrieved the towel. If she wasn’t so cold, she might have blushed. “I never said
being protective was a bad thing. It’s quite nice to be looked after.”
Okay, maybe she wasn’t too cold to blush. But where had that even come from? Even in relationships she liked being
independent and self-sufficient. Not that she found that easy. She usually had to take her time to decide what to do, but she hated
relying on other people.
And yet, here she was, relishing in a total stranger looking after her.
Matt looked down at her, his hand still gripping the towel he was meant to be handing to her. “Well, you’re gonna have to
get used to it. You’re one of us now.” He let go of the towel and walked to the door.
“Now you sound like you’re in a cult.”
Matt laughed without turning back. “See, I can’t win.” He opened the door and closed it behind him softly.
Stacy stood staring at it.
The problem was that he was winning. Winning at piquing her interest at least. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d chip away at
her walls more when he really shouldn’t be able to. She was here for a few weeks to sort her life out. To be independent and
move on from her ex.
But in the space of an hour, Matt Wells was already jeopardising that.
 C HAPTER 3

M att couldn’t force the smile from his face even if he wanted to. He walked back into the kitchen where his family
were entertaining themselves and started rummaging in the fridge. It was tradition that they got together tonight to
have dinner, and Matt always cooked for the family no matter what. He grabbed the minced beef and onions and
closed the fridge.
Sam was hiding behind the door, his arms crossed, a smirk spread wide across his face. “I’ve never seen you smile for
such a long time.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Matt turned, put the food on the island and went to switch the oven on.
Sam followed. “That smile wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain damsel in distress, would it?”
Matt rolled his eyes. Sam was the second oldest Wells sibling, which meant he could read Matt like a book. And he was
irritating as hell about it.
“All I’m saying is,” Sam whispered, “you should totally tap that.”
“God. Can you even hear yourself right now? You sound like an utter pig.”
Sam shrugged. “Sometimes you need a bit of encouragement to not be a gentleman and take what you bloody want. I’d put
money on it that she wants you too.”
Matt shouldered past his brother to grab the potatoes. “Well, thankfully, I don’t think anyone will be taking that bet.”
Nathan, the middle child, had obviously caught wind of the conversation and headed over to hear what all the whispering
was about. Trust him to want to find the trouble. “Did you really find her broken down? Or is she your bit on the side that you
brought here to keep your bed warm during the storm?”
“Seriously,” Matt said as he piled the potatoes onto the kitchen counter. “How did you two end up like this? You sound like
arseholes right now.”
Sam held his hands up. He was the only light-haired brother, taking after their mother. The rest of the boys had brown hair,
although Nathan’s was a few shades lighter than Matt’s and Tom’s.
“All I’m saying,” Sam said, crossing his arms, “is that if there was a hot woman staying in my house, I wouldn’t be holding
back.”
Nathan nodded. “And all I’m saying is, that if a hot woman was staying in anyone’s house, I’d be all over it before any of
you fuckers could take her.”
Matt placed the last potato on the counter and straightened to look at his two brothers.
“First of all”—he poked Sam in the chest as he bored holes into him—“I feel sorry for any woman staying at your house if
you pounced on her in the first hour of her being there. And secondly.” He poked Nathan in the chest and switched his stare to
him. “Don’t you dare try anything with Stacy. She’s a guest in this household and needs a safe place to stay. Don’t make her
uncomfortable. If I hear either of you step a foot out of line, you’ll be out on your ear. Storm or no storm. Do you hear me?”
If they even attempted to make a move with Stacy, there would be hell to pay. She’d put her trust in him by agreeing to stay.
He wouldn’t jeopardise that.
Sam and Nathan exchanged a look.
“We get it,” Sam said, slapping Matt on the back and retreating to grab a drink from the fridge.
“Yeah,” Nathan muttered, getting a drink for himself, “you want her for yourself.”
Before Matt could pick up a potato and lob it at his dickhead brother, Becca placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed it
gently. “Ignore them,” she said. “They’re trying to get on your nerves. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
Instead of throwing the potatoes, Matt threw a deadly stare at them as they crossed the kitchen to speak to their dad.
“Have you told her about tonight?” Becca asked.
Matt turned to his sister, her long blonde hair sparkling in the lights. She and Sam looked so similar with their light hair and
green eyes. But there were moments when he looked at her and it stung, bringing up painful memories of their mum.
Shaking his head, he grabbed a knife and a chopping board.
“I think you should. She might find it a bit awkward if she doesn’t know and suddenly finds out.”
 “Yeah, you’re right.”
“It’s really nice that you’re letting her stay. Not that I would expect anything less of you.”
Matt smiled, busying himself with preparing dinner. He was making homemade chilli with jacket potatoes tonight. Nothing
fancy, but definitely good enough to feed this motley crew. “Stace said cars were just driving past her and some people even
beeped. I tried to get her home, but I don’t think I’d have made it back here.”
Matt looked out the kitchen window. The rain was still lashing down and the sky was getting darker by the second.
Thankfully he didn’t have loads of trees close to his house.
“People can be such arseholes,” Becca said. “I’m glad you found her. Where does she live?”
“I’m not sure, but she’s staying at the cottage that Jodie rents out in Winton Green.”
“No way. Really? What a small world.”
“It really is.”
Jodie had moved to the neighbouring village of Winton Green a few years ago and had recently married Tony who the
Wells family knew as they regularly visited his pub at Winton Green.
“What’s the weather report like?” he asked. “The storm seemed to arrive sooner than they’d said.”
“I don’t think it will get any better till tomorrow night. If we’re lucky.”
Matt nodded, slicing into the onions. Two nights with Stacy in his home. He could handle that.
“Do you want any help?”
“No, I’ve got it covered.”
“I feel at a loose end. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Go and play cards or something. Relax. You're always on the go and stressing about your business. Use this time to have a
break.”
Rebecca had a cleaning company and it had excelled in the local area. But now she was trying to set up in London for high-
end, prestigious clients. She was rushed off her feet trying to break into the market and make a name for herself.
She drummed her fingers on the worktop. “Maybe.”
“Dad,” Matt called. “You’ll play cards with Becca, won’t you?”
His dad’s eyes lit up. He was always up for quality time with his kids. “Of course I will. Grab the chopsticks. Sam, you
grab the cards.”
All his siblings went about their tasks, leaving Matt in blissful silence to think about the hot, naked woman currently
occupying his shower.
On the way past with a handful of chopsticks, Becca said, “This is going to end in carnage and Stacy’s going to think we’re
all crazy.”
Matt laughed. “I think she already does.”
They all sat at the table as Matt kept chopping, and the game of Spoons, or as their family played it, ‘Chopsticks’ started. It
didn’t take long for the laughing and shouting to start.

The shower was amazing. Stacy had tried to get out a couple of times and then gave herself one more minute. The chill from the
storm had finally gone even though it still raged outside.
Stacy was wearing the pair of trousers Matt had left her, and as he’d predicted, they swamped her. Even after rolling the
band up a few times, she was stepping on the bottoms. And if she moved too quickly, they could fall right down.
Stacy took a deep breath, her hand on the doorknob.
She felt comfortable around Matt and his family, which was totally bizarre seeing as she didn’t know any of them. They’d
made her feel at home already. But even so, they were complete strangers. She was massively intruding.
Oh well. Pull your big man pants up and get on with it. She could hardly stay in here all night.
She walked to the living area, the sound of joyful calling and laughing getting louder as she went.
The family was sitting round the table playing a card game. Everyone but Matt who was at the hob on the kitchen island,
eyes slightly creased, watching over them and whatever deliciousness was in the pot.
He turned to her, a crooked smile on his face. “Nice shower?”
“Amazing.” Joining him, she nodded at his family who were all engrossed in their game. “What on earth are they up to?”
Matt was stirring minced beef in a big dish with onions. “Chopsticks. You race to get four of a kind and then pick up a
chopstick. At that point everyone else tries to grab a chopstick too and the slowest person doesn’t get one and loses. It’s
actually called Spoons, but my parents decided giving five unruly kids spoons they can wrap each other’s knuckles with wasn’t
the greatest idea.”
Stacy watched them intently, they were all picking the discarded card from the person to their right and then getting rid of a
card to the person on their left. Rebecca shouted, “Chopsticks.” And they all lunged for the pile and squabbled over them until
everyone held one up apart from Nathan.
Stacy raised her eyebrows. “But giving them pointing sticks was?” She laughed.
Matt chuckled with her. “Yeah, you’ve got a point.”
There was shouting from the table as Tom was causing a holdup and being too slow with discarding one of his cards to
pass to Sam.
“I’m glad I’ve got a minute with you, actually,” Matt said, as he stirred the beef.
“Oh yeah?”
“The reason everyone is around tonight⁠—”
“Apart from the fact that you’re protective.” She nudged him playfully.
“Y-yeah, apart from the fact that I’m protective, it's because we always get together today to celebrate my mum’s birthday.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her smile dropped.
Matt grabbed the tins of chopped tomatoes on the counter and started opening them. “Mum died four years ago.”
Without thinking, Stacy gripped his forearm. She’d wondered why their mum wasn’t there and had assumed his parents
were divorced. But now her heart shattered for him.
“I’m so sorry, Matt.” It seemed like such a stupid thing to say. She wanted to comfort him, to take away the pain he clearly
felt but was trying to hide. “I bet she was a wonderful woman,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, she was pretty great.” He carried on with his task but was obviously lost in memories.
This had to be the worst night for her to have turned up. “I feel awful for intruding.”
Matt’s eyes shot to Stacy’s. “You’re not intruding. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable but I wanted you to know. And
anyway, Mum would want you to be here. She wouldn’t have settled if she’d known someone needed help and she didn’t help
them when she could.”
Stacy’s hand was still on his forearm. She didn’t want to move it. “You definitely take after her then. You’ve been so kind
to me already and everyone’s made me feel welcome. I’m sure your mum would be really proud.”
Matt smiled down at her. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
They stared silently at each other before Stacy dropped her hand and said, “Let me help. What can I do?”
“Don’t worry about it. Go and play Chopsticks.”
Stacy looked back at the dining table where his family were still shouting and laughing. “I think they’re all a bit too
engrossed in the game to teach me. Anyway, I’d rather be helping you. Tell me what I can do.”
Matt’s smile had her insides bubbling. How did she ever think this man was a murderer? He was far too hot for that.
“Okay, why don’t you sort the potatoes out?”
“I’m sure I can manage that. But tell me exactly what to do.”
 C HAPTER 4

H is family and Stacy were all tucking into the chilli he’d made. There was an extra spicy one for his brothers and a
less spicy version for his dad, sister and Stacy.
“This is so nice,” Stacy said.
She was sitting between him and his dad who he always placed at the end of the table. Sure it was Matt’s house, but that
was his dad’s seat.
Her compliment filled him with warmth. He loved food and seeing people enjoy what he cooked. But her praise meant
even more. “You did pretty good on the potatoes, too,” Matt said.
She’d seemed a little apprehensive to be in charge of the potatoes, so Matt had grasped onto the opportunity and tutored her
so he could be a bit closer to her. He had a special method with his jacket potatoes. He didn’t just bung them in the oven, he
made sure they were slathered in butter and seasoning. Sometimes just salt and pepper. Other times with garlic salt or paprika.
“Pretty good?” she said with mock indignation. “They’re amazing, if I say so myself.”
He couldn’t help but laugh with her. She made everything fun and exciting. He’d never laughed so much.
“Do you enjoy cooking?” his dad asked Stacy.
She turned to him with a smile. “I’m not a very good cook at all. No matter how hard I try, I just don’t have the patience. If
I’d have done these potatoes at home, they would have gone in the microwave for ten minutes and that’s it.”
“Don’t say that in front of Matt,” Sam said from across the table. “He’s the resident foodie of the family. You’ll give him
heart palpitations.”
“Well, he’s taught me something tonight. No more microwaved potatoes for me.”
“Now you’re in for it,” Tom said. “He won’t stop trying to teach you now.”
“I truly think I’m a lost cause when it comes to cooking.”
“You can do everything with practice,” Matt said, reciting something his mum always told them when they were little.
His siblings nodded, a quietness settling over the table as they each thought about her. Fuck, he’d brought the mood down.
Stacy’s eyes darted around them all, obviously picking up on the change in them.
“You see,” his dad said over the silence, “Matt loved cooking with his mum growing up. He’d often get impatient and want
to speed it up so he could eat whatever they were cooking. So he’d sneakily turn up the heat and then it would boil over or
burn. And when that happened he’d get upset and say he wasn’t any good at it.”
They all stared at his dad as he spoke. They were close as a family, closer than many families. But since their mum had
died there was an invisible wall between them. At least that’s what Matt felt. His dad rarely spoke about their mum. Especially
on her birthday. Instead he stayed silent and kept his thoughts to himself.
“Cooking with Mum was my only time alone with her. No one else wanted to join in, so it was just me and her. And I
wanted it to be perfect so she’d carry on teaching me. It’s hard to get one-on-one time when there are five kids in the house. I
worried that if I wasn’t any good, she’d stop spending time with me.”
“Oh, Matty,” Becca said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“She taught me all her recipes. And now I cook them for everyone. But Mum was always better than me.”
His dad laughed. “No, she wasn’t. She was a pretty bad cook when we first got married.”
“Was she?” Matt asked, he’d never heard his dad say anything like that before.
“Yes. She’d burn everything or use the wrong ingredient. There were many nights when we ended up eating beans on toast
for dinner. She even had a knack for burning that.”
“So she practiced,” Nathan said.
Their dad smiled. “She practiced. When we were weaning Matt she would get upset that her cooking wasn’t as good as she
felt it should be. At that point I cooked better than she did, and that upset her even more. One night, I found her crying in the
kitchen after I put Matt to sleep. She was scrubbing another burnt pan and saying she’d failed at being a mum. At the first
hurdle. So I cuddled her tight. She said I should cook every meal from now on as she’d failed.”
The table was silent as they all listened to the story they’d never heard before. “But I knew she didn’t want that. And what
about on the nights I couldn’t cook if I was ill maybe? I told her that she could do anything with practice. She scoffed at me, of
course. Said she’d had enough practice and look where it had got her. But I knew she could do it. So, instead of cooking every
meal like she wanted to, I never cooked.”
“You forced her to cook?” Becca asked. “Poor Matt.”
“I didn’t force her. She wanted to learn and be good at it. And that only comes with practice. I hid all the tins of beans so
we had no alternative. I showed her the few skills I knew, and I paid for some private lessons to show her the basics. As soon
as she started concentrating on just cooking and took her time and practiced, she started getting it. Before long, every meal was
great. And she’d gained so much confidence that she started experimenting rather than following instructions. I brought her a
book to write her own recipes down. And then she passed it all onto Matt.”
“So you’re the real reason we were preached that practice makes perfect our whole lives?” Sam said.
Dad smiled as he cut into the last bit of his jacket potato. “I am.”
“I’ve never heard that before,” Matt said.
Chewing his last mouthful, his dad put down his knife and fork and swallowed. “That was lovely. Thank you, Matt and
Stacy.”
That was it then, the conversation was over. He wouldn’t be getting any more information about his mum that he didn’t
know.
His siblings finished up their dinner and nodded their thanks.
Their mother’s birthday was a strange occasion. They didn’t want it to be sombre or to wallow in their grief. Their mum
would have hated that. Instead they tried to keep it light-hearted and honour her memory. But Matt still felt the pain behind his
smile.
Their dad rarely shared stories of their mum they didn’t already know and as the years passed since losing his mum, Matt
wanted to hear more. His grief was gripping him tighter, pulling him away from the family he loved so much, holding him
captive. He’d always prided himself on being the best big brother you could wish for. He’d protect them no matter what. But he
couldn’t protect them from this. He wasn’t able to make this better and that only made his grief worse. Instead he had to watch
as it tore him away from them, feeling lonely even when his house was full.
Stacy was standing next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder. She bent down to grab his plate. “Let me take that for
you.”
He shook himself from his trance. “No, you sit down. I’ll sort this out.”
“Nonsense. You’ve done enough. It’s the least I can do.”
Everyone else got up from the table and started to clear away. Many hands make light work, as his mum always said.
Or was that also a saying passed on from his dad?
Matt stood as well and picked up the remaining items on the table that needed to be cleared. Becca was already running the
water to wash up and Stacy was next to her chatting away.
Sam was scraping the plates and talking to his dad as he did so, and Nathan was back at the table wiping it down with a
cloth. The only person who wasn’t helping anymore was Tom. He was sitting at the table, typing quickly on his phone.
Matt didn’t even need to ask who he was texting. There was only one person who managed to keep Tom’s attention for
more than five minutes.
Matt went to the stove and tidied away his spices.
“So where do you live, Stacy?” Becca asked.
“Born and raised in Bournemouth.”
“Matt said you were staying at Jodie’s cottage?”
“Yeah, I was only there for a couple of hours before I thought it was a good idea to get some provisions for the storm. And
then my rental car broke down.”
“Are you here by yourself?”
Matt glanced over at them as Stacy nodded.
He was about to go back to clearing everything, but Sam caught his eye. He’d obviously heard the girls talking and had a
stupid smirk on his face as he raised his eyebrows up and down.
Their dad was walking to the living room and had his back turned so Matt quickly gave his brother the middle finger before
going back to his task. Something about the second oldest Wells sibling got under his skin more than any of the others and made
him act like a child.
“How long are you staying?”
“Three weeks. If this storm ever lets up, that is.”
His dad was shrugging on his coat and shoes at the front door. Matt clenched his teeth together.
Not tonight. Surely he wasn’t about to sit on the deck like every other year. This wasn’t every other year. This was the
worst storm in a decade. Sitting out in this—even if Matt had tied everything down and the decking area at the back of his
house was more sheltered—was not a good idea.
 “Dad,” Nathan said as he finished wiping the table and noticed his coat. “Don’t tell me you’re heading out there.”
The girls turned to watch.
“Dad,” Becca said.
“It’s my tradition.”
“I know, Dad,” Becca said. “But it’s too windy out there. What about doing it another night?”
Their dad zipped up his coat. “No. It has to be tonight.”
Nathan smacked the side of Tom’s head, who was still texting furiously on his phone. “What was that for?” Tom asked,
looking up from his phone.
Nathan pointed towards their dad. “Say something. He’s heading outside.”
“What do you want me to say? If he isn’t listening to any of you, he isn’t going to listen to me, is he?”
“You can at least tell him it’s a bad idea just to try,” Sam added.
Tom turned to their dad. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Dad.”
“I’m still doing it.”
“See?” Tom went back to his phone. “He’ll be fine, guys.”
Nathan whacked him round the head again.
“Please, Dad.” Becca practically batted her eyelashes at him and put on her puppy dog eyes. No one could turn her down
when she did that.
“Nice try, sweetie. But nothing can stop me from sitting out on that porch tonight.”
“I think Matt and I could restrain you.” Sam rolled his sleeves up. “Matt, you take one arm, I’ll take the other, and we can
strap him in front of the fire till the morning.”
“You’d restrain your old dad?”
Sam laughed. “I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, but I’ve seen you with those horses out there. You’re hardly old
and frail.”
Their dad was level with Sam now, who had stood in front of the back door. He patted him on the shoulder. “There’s no
need to worry about me. I’ll be back in ten minutes. It’s my time to think about your mum and honour her in my own way.”
Sam’s jaw unclenched.
Perfect. Dad had said the one thing that would mean Sam would step to one side and let him pass. And none of the others
would say anything.
Matt had held back knowing he would blow his top and go overboard, but now he had no choice.
Their dad turned to Matt. “Say your piece, son. I know it’s eating you up, keeping quiet.”
“This has to be the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard. If I’d have even thought you would do something as crazy as
sitting outside during a storm tonight, I wouldn’t have had any of you here. I’d have made sure you stayed at home and then you
couldn’t have done it. I know you like to honour Mum’s memory by doing the same thing you always did with her on her
birthday. And I know sitting on my deck together looking over the creek was her favourite place. But this is ridiculous, Dad.”
“It’s not, son, and one day you’ll understand that.”
Matt balled his fists tight. “I bloody well won’t.”
“I’m not trying to hurt any of you kids. But some things have to be done.” He took a step towards the back door and Matt
followed him to the end of the kitchen island.
“Risking your life isn’t one of them,” he called after him. What if a tree branch got caught in the wind? What if he hadn’t
tied a piece of furniture down tight enough? Even from inside with all the noise they were making, you could still hear the wind
battering the house.
“I’m not going to die, Matt.”
“And you think Mum thought she was going to die, do you?” His heart was tearing in two with sheer panic. He’d done a
crap job of protecting his younger siblings against their grief. And now the risk of losing their dad too seemed unbearable. His
heart beat so painfully it could have ripped out of his chest.
Everyone’s stares were darting between them.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” their dad said quietly.
“I’m not letting you risk it. It’s not fair. We lost Mum too early and I’m not losing you too. I can’t stand by and let this
family be ripped apart anymore.” His breathing was ragged, his throat burning.
Here he stood, a thirty-eight-year-old man of six-foot-three, begging his father to not risk his life. It was like he was five
again, crying for his dad not to touch the bee that had flown into his room as he’d heard at school some people could die of
being stung.
Something touched his stomach, so gentle and soothing that he looked away from his dad and into eyes that were as blue as
the sky in the height of summer.
“Matt,” Stacy whispered. “Let him go. Trust him to keep himself safe. Trust that he has to do this for your mum. He’s not
trying to hurt you or your brothers and sister. He’s doing this to stop hurting himself. He’ll be okay. He’ll come back.”
 Stacy’s soft words—quiet enough that only he could hear them—washed over this panic and calmed his breathing. He was
still worried as hell that tonight could be the night he lost his dad too, but Stacy had somehow eased it.
He turned his gaze back to his dad.
“We’re not so different, you and I,” his dad said as his gaze flickered to Stacy for a moment. “One day soon, I think you’ll
realise that. I’ll be back. Trust me.” And he turned and walked straight out the back door, a gust of wind ripping through the
house as soon as he opened it.
Matt felt lost beyond reason. He looked down at Stacy who still had her hand on his stomach, her touch sending a bolt of
electricity right to his heart. “I hope you’re not wrong about this.”
“I’m not.”
Was it his imagination or did she purposefully brush her fingers against his abs and the top of his jeans before dropping her
hand and turning back to the sink?
 C HAPTER 5

T he icy blast from the back door shot through Stacy. She picked up the tea towel and started drying the dishes Rebecca
had washed and stacked on the draining board as if nothing had happened.
If she felt like she was intruding before, now she really felt it. What had just transpired between Matt, his siblings,
and their dad was so personal and she was here to witness every devastating second of it. Not only witness it, but then she’d
gone and wedged herself right in the middle of whatever that was.
Her skin prickled with embarrassment.
She had no clue why it was so important for their dad to sit outside tonight. And the kitchen window above the sink still
showed the treacherous conditions outside. But it was clear there was no stopping him. And surely he would be sensible and if
it was too blustery on the sheltered decking he would come in?
Matt’s words still haunted her as she stacked up the dried dishes so Rebecca could place more down. He’d seemed so
vulnerable as he stood alone, trying to convince his dad not to go out in the storm. Her heart broke watching him trying to
protect his family once more, and there was no way she could stop herself from going to him.
The instant she’d placed her hands on his stomach, goosebumps had erupted all over her body. His body was toned and
rigid, his pecs contoured and chiselled. If you wanted to sculpt the most delicious male body, you would sculpt him. And she’d
have paid extortionate entry fees just to get a glimpse of him. She’d only seen him with clothes on, but even she didn’t need to
think twice as to what hotness lay underneath them.
She blew out her breath, trying to cool herself down. She’d done the right thing by stepping between them, hadn’t she?
“Are you okay?” Rebecca asked as she placed the last plate on the draining board and started with the knives and forks.
Stacy smiled and nodded, nagging doubts still in her mind. Maybe she should have backed Matt rather than getting him to
back down.
There was a constant tapping behind her. Looking over her shoulder, it was Matt, standing at the island, drumming his
fingers on the countertop.
“Chill out, Matt,” Sam said, taking the stack of dishes in front of Stacy and taking them to a cupboard. “He’ll be fine.”
“You’re on my shit list,” Matt replied.
“Why?”
“Because you stepped aside. One minute you were ready to strap him to a chair and the next minute you gave up. In the
blink of an eye.”
Sam silently placed the plates in their cupboard.
Matt looked over her head, watching out the window at the storm. “Do you think it’s picking up again?” he asked no one in
particular.
“It seems the same,” Rebecca replied. “Sam’s right, you need to calm down. You’re only responsible for yourself.”
Matt carried on staring out the window, his jaw clenched and pulsing as he watched the darkness. She couldn’t stop looking
at him. She couldn’t stop wanting to reach out and try to comfort him. Ease his worries.
“Apart from the fact I’m not.” His tone was clipped. “I’m responsible for all of you. Especially since Mum died. She
trusted me to look after you lot. And since she’s gone, I have to look after him too.”
A particularly strong gust of wind rattled against the window. He banged his hand on the countertop. “That’s it, it’s too
fucking dangerous out there. I’m dragging him in whether he likes it or not.”
Before he could take a step, Stacy was in front of him, blocking his way to the door, her hand yet again on his stomach.
Why did it seem so natural to put it there? She hadn’t even known him for twenty-four hours.
“Matt,” she said quietly.
His eyes darted to hers. His breathing was heavy again, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
She didn’t know why she was in front of him again. Why she thought she could sort this problem out when she couldn’t
even sort out her own.
The hardness of his stomach gave her strength. “I know you want him to be safe, but have you thought there might be a
better way to do it than just dragging him back inside?”
“There’s no better way.” He stared down at her, his gaze as hard as his abs.
“Have you considered maybe you’re every bit as stubborn as your dad is?”
There was a snicker behind her at the dining table and then an “Ouch.”
Stacy’s fingers instinctively traced the ridges of Matt’s pecs beneath his top. “I’ll show you,” she whispered.
Matt’s eyes seemed to lighten. He gave a small nod.
It was like he’d transferred all his strength and certainty to her. “Right,” she called out to the room. If everyone’s attention
wasn’t already on her, it was now. This was so out of her comfort zone, but she was going to do it for Matt. “I need the biggest,
fluffiest, warmest blanket you can find.” There was the sound of scraping chairs behind her. “And where’s those bags that were
brought in from the car?”
“We put everything away in this cupboard,” Sam opened up a large larder on the back wall of the kitchen.
With one last look at Matt, she dropped her hand and went to work.
She found a small pan in the cupboard she’d seen Matt use when he was cooking and placed it on the stove. She grabbed
the milk from the fridge and poured a generous helping into the pan, before turning the heat on.
“Has your dad got a favourite mug?” she asked Sam as he dodged out of her way when she went to rummage in the
cupboard.
“Erm…”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “I’ll get it.”
“Perfect.” Stacy picked out the ingredients.
Matt watched every move she made, bracing himself against the kitchen island. She might not be able to make a delicious
chilli and always seemed to burn everything. But this…this she could make.
Rebecca placed a mug next to the stove.
“Thanks,” Stacy said as she mixed up the dry ingredients for her homemade hot chocolate. She made sure to keep stirring
the milk as it warmed through.
Nathan and Tom returned to the kitchen, their arms full of blankets. Rebecca went to them and selected the warmest blanket.
“This one.” She pulled it out of the pile Nathan had. He threw a triumphant smile to his brother. “Go put the others back where
you found them.”
“Sam?” Stacy asked. “Can you grate up some of this chocolate, please? I just need a little bit.”
She didn’t want to ask Matt to do anything. Every minute she delayed, she risked him taking back control. Risked him going
out there and forcing his dad inside. It was clear he loved his family more than anything else in the world. But there was also a
strain behind his eyes. Not everything was rosy.
Now the milk was warmed through, Stacy gradually added spoonfuls of her hot chocolate mixture and stirred until it was
melted.
“Can someone get the squirty cream?” Stacy grabbed a ladle and carefully spooned the mixture into the mug. It had a
picture of all the kids on the side.
Sam handed her the can and she shook it up before squirting a swirl on the top of her mixture. Then she topped it off with a
few marshmallows and a last dusting of grated chocolate.
“I’m gonna need to try that,” Tom said as he and Nathan returned to the kitchen.
“If there’s enough milk, I can make it for everyone,” Stacy said as she picked up the mug and hooked the blanket over her
arm.
As she walked to the back door, Matt moved in front of it, his arms crossed. She almost melted like the tiny marshmallows
in the hot chocolate.
“I’ll only be a minute,” she reassured him. “I’ll make sure he’s safe and protected from the storm. He can keep sipping on
this to make sure he stays warm. And then he can come in once he’s finished drinking. I didn’t make it too hot, so it won’t take
him long.”
Matt still hadn’t moved. She could almost see the thoughts flashing through his mind, deliberating if he should let her go out
too. Trust me to make this decision. She’d never wanted someone to believe in her so much. “If it’s too dangerous, I’ll make
sure he comes in.”
With a final nod, Matt moved to the side.
As soon as Stacy opened the door, the wind whipped at her hair. There was an outside light on, but the darkness extended
beyond the deck.
“How were you allowed out?” Matt’s dad was sitting on a bench along the wall of the house.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Stacy walked to him, holding the blanket out. “You can have your treat if you put
this blanket on.”
In the dim light, he smiled and took it from her. Unfolding it, he laid it over himself.
“Here you go.” She passed him the mug. “It’s about the only thing I can make.”
 “That’s very kind of you.”
“Can I sit for a minute?”
“Of course. Are you being used as a secret weapon to get me inside?” He smiled as he sipped the drink. The cream had
almost melted now, which was probably a good thing as this wind would have blown it away.
“No. But I wanted to make sure you were safe and warm.”
“You’re the one that came out without a coat or shoes on.” He lifted the corner of the blanket and laid it over her.
She hadn’t even registered her lack of coat or footwear. Thankfully this blanket really was warm and against the side of the
house, they were mostly sheltered from the storm.
“Is Matt about to crack all of his teeth from clenching them so hard?”
Stacy laughed. “Probably. He’s just worried about you.”
He sighed. “I know. I wish he wouldn’t. He’s always felt the weight of being the big brother. But since his mum died, it
seems to be heavier. He used to have fun when we all got together. Now he just seems…stressed.”
“Maybe he needs a break.”
“Or a distraction,” he murmured before taking another sip of his drink. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you. The shop-bought stuff is never that nice. So I searched the internet for some recipes and have perfected it over
time. Hot chocolate always makes me feel better.” Stacy watched the darkness around them as he continued to drink. “It’s oddly
peaceful with a raging storm happening around us.”
“It is, isn’t it? Their mum used to love it out here. Matt had this house built, bigger than he ever needed it for himself, so
that all his family could be together. And this decking looks out over the property that was passed down to his mum. There’s a
creek in the middle of it, and you can see it from here.” He looked out into the distance. “Obviously when it’s not storming.”
“That sounds lovely. I would have loved to have seen it.”
“Maybe one day Matt will show you.”
A heat spread through her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was matchmaking. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to the
rest of your drink,” she said, removing the blanket from herself before standing up. “On one condition though.”
“And what would that be?”
“As soon as you finish that drink, you come back inside. Matt’s not going to like it that I left you out here.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
She walked to the back door. “And you can’t just sip it slowly.”
He laughed. “Okay. I’ll be in, in a minute.”
She opened the door and walked back inside.
Matt was pacing between the dining room and kitchen island. The rest of his siblings were leaning against the kitchen
cabinets, making themselves look as small as possible. The house was silent apart from Matt’s footsteps.
All eyes turned to her as she closed the door.
“Where is he?” Matt asked.
“He’s covered up and warm. He’s finishing up his hot chocolate and then he’ll be in. It’s quite sheltered out there.”
“You went out without a coat or shoes on. Are you cold?” Matt walked to her, his eyes searching hers.
“I’m okay.”
He reached out and touched her bare arms where goosebumps had risen. She had no idea if they were caused from being
outside or from how close he was.
“You’re freezing.” He pulled her gently towards the fire in the living room and stood her in front of it.
“Ah, man,” Tom said from the kitchen. “Does this mean I have to wait for a hot chocolate now?”
Rebecca nudged him. “You’re such a kid.”
“If you start heating the milk slowly, I’ll come and do it for you.” The warmth from the fire was delicious against her skin
and she was already feeling warmer.
Or was that because Matt still had his hands on her arms?
“Yes!” Tom immediately went to the fridge and went about his task.
“How am I saving you for the second time in one day?” Matt said softly. He was staring so intently at her, like his family
wasn’t in the kitchen. Like his dad wasn’t sitting outside and he’d been so worried about him just a few moments before.
“I’m not sure you can call warming me up slightly saving me.”
“You could get hypothermia. You’ve been out in that storm too much today.” His hands ran up and down her arms.
“Milk’s ready!” Tom called, breaking their trance.
And at that moment the back door opened once more and their dad walked in.
Matt immediately walked to his dad and took the blanket and mug from him.
“See,” his dad said. “I’m fine.”
Matt sighed heavily and turned from him to put the mug in the sink.
Stacy was already at the stove, stirring in the hot chocolate powder mix she’d made earlier. Luckily she made more than
was needed for one cup.
“Thanks again for that, Stacy.”
“You're welcome. I hope it warmed you up.”
“It did. Their mum would have loved that. Although she would have sneaked in something a little extra.”
Matt appeared next to her. “Would she?”
“Yeah. She would make anything Irish. A little dash of whiskey in her coffee, over her dessert.”
“I never knew that.”
“Do you have any whiskey, Matt?” she asked.
He went to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle.
“Does anyone want to try? In memory of your mum.”
There was a chorus of agreement.
Stacy took the bottle from Matt, their fingers grazing each other’s.
“Thank you,” he whispered. His shoulders had relaxed a bit, he didn’t seem as worried.
“You’re welcome.” And she turned to make them all a hot chocolate the way their mum would have liked it, Matt hovering
next to her, his gaze heating her like the milk in the pan.
Maybe he did need a distraction.
But she was only in town for a little while to sort out her own problems. Did she really want to be his distraction?
 C HAPTER 6

I t was finally nighttime. The day had been…long.

Matt was exhausted from the storm, rescuing a total stranger in the middle of it, having his family over, finding out
totally new things about his mum, and most of all from this tangle of emotion at having Stacy in his house.
And now they were alone in his bedroom.
Matt riffled through his chest of drawers trying to find something suitable for Stacy to wear. She had nothing here apart
from her handbag and a few bags of shopping.
“Do you think this will be okay?” Matt held up a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that was a bit on the small side for him.
Everything would still swamp her but at least the shorts had a drawstring.
Stacy was sitting cross legged on his bed, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. He could have stayed watching her
as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Perfect,” she said.
He chucked the clothes to her, so she could take them into the bathroom to get changed, and carried on searching through the
drawers.
As he was about to spend the night on the sofa, he figured he should put some clothes on. Tucked right to the back of a
drawer was a pair of pyjamas that Sam had got him last Christmas. They had a large picture of Scooby-Doo on the top and lots
of mini Scoobys on the trousers. They’d all laughed when he opened the present. Matt had been known in the family for loving
Scooby-Doo when he was younger. But now they were coming in handy.
The door to the en suite opened and Stacy walked out carrying her folded clothes. She placed them on the bottom of the
bed. Even in a baggy shirt that came down to her thighs and even baggier shorts that hung off her, she looked sexy as fuck.
Matt cleared his throat and dirty thoughts. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth and get changed. Then I’ll leave you be.”
“Of course.” Stacy was already pulling back the covers and sliding into bed.
Matt had to quickly close the door behind him before he jumped in there with her.
When he came out of the bathroom, Stacy was stunning in his bed, her hair draped around her on his pillows, looking so
petite and alone. He could devour her right then and there.
And then she laughed loudly.
“What?” he asked, automatically defensive.
“I like your jammies.” Her eyes danced in the glow of the bedside lamp.
“Ha ha. I don’t normally wear these.”
“What? That’s a shame. What would you normally wear, Scrappy-Doo?” She laughed again.
“No. I’m normally naked.” Her laughing spluttered to a stop. “I thought as I’m on the sofa, my family wouldn’t appreciate
that sight in the morning.” Even in the orange glow her skin was flushing pink.
Matt chucked his clothes in his washing basket before collecting her pile at the end of the bed. “I’ll put these in the wash
for you so they are clean tomorrow,” he said, walking to the door.
“Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay sleeping on the sofa? I feel bad for kicking you out.”
“Don’t. I wouldn’t let you sleep on the sofa.” Not when she looked that good in his bed.
“Well, thank you for being so kind and looking after me today.”
“My pleasure. Goodnight, Stacy.”
“Night, Matt.”
And he wrenched himself away from his bedroom and retreated to the kitchen.
The living room was now dark. Everyone had gone to bed and he was left to himself. Peace at last. He put the washing
machine on, grabbed himself a glass of water and headed for the sofa. The fire was starting to die down, but he had a spare
duvet that would keep him warm tonight.
Matt settled himself on the L-shaped sofa. Thankfully it was quite comfy. The fire still crackled in the grate, the washing
machine now churned, but there was still the unmistakable thrashing of the wind outside.
Even though his body was craving sleep, his mind was still whirring from the day’s events. Sure it was the worst storm to
have hit Britain in a decade, but for the Wells family it was like any Christmas or family get-together for the past six years.
Ever since he’d built this house, his family had stayed here for all the events that mattered. That was the whole reason he’d
added on so many bedrooms when it was only him that lived here. Why he had such a large dining table. Even his mum and
dad’s house up the road was smaller than this. Growing up, he’d shared a bedroom with Sam. Nathan and Tom shared and
lucky Becca got a room all to herself.
But he’d been wrong to assume today would turn out normal. If he hadn't been a good neighbour and visited Mrs Hoff to
check she was okay, he wouldn’t have spotted Stacy in need. God knows where she would be now if he hadn’t come across
her. It was weird to think there was a stranger in his house. In his bed. And yet, it felt like the most normal thing on the planet.
He laid on the sofa, replaying the events of the day again and again like a broken record. His body ached for sleep, and yet
his mind was having none of it. Some thirty minutes later, the washing machine beeped.
He might as well hang out Stacy’s clothes so they could be dry in the morning.
Matt pulled off the cover and chucked a couple more logs on the fire. Then he went to get a clothes dryer before hanging out
the washing in front of the flames.
Acting like the gentleman he was trying to be and not the caveman he actually was, Matt ignored the tiny piece of baby blue
lacy material that was hidden between her jeans and her top. Thankfully she hadn’t put her bra in there. That would have done
him in completely.
Once Stacy’s clothes were on the line, and the fire was coming to life again to help dry them out, Matt returned to the sofa
to toss and turn some more.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before there was a soft padding of feet coming from the hallway into the kitchen.
Then the washing machine door opened.
“I already took everything out and hung it up,” Matt said.
“Oh shit! You scared the life out of me.”
Matt chuckled. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I thought that it might be dry for the morning.”
The padding footsteps sounded and Stacy appeared in front of the sofa, bathed in a delicious glow from the fire. “Can you
not sleep?”
“No. You?” He curled his arm behind his head to rest on it.
Shaking her head, she sat on the sofa, just on the edge of where his duvet stopped. “You took your jammies off then?”
Matt looked at the back of the sofa where Stacy was staring. His Scooby-Doo top was laid over it. “I felt a bit too trapped
in it.”
Stacy started to nibble at her bottom lip. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I still have the bottoms on.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that.” She turned to look into the simmering fire.
Of course she wasn’t.
As she sat, she shivered. “Are you still cold?” he asked, immediately on high alert. She’d been out too long in the storm
and then too long with his dad on the decking.
“A little.”
“Come here.” Matt scooted over on the sofa and lifted the duvet for her to get in.
She looked for a moment, biting her lip. He wasn’t going to make this decision for her, no matter how much he wanted her
next to him.
After a moment’s deliberation she got in and covered herself over. “Only because I can’t sleep.”
Matt smiled to himself. Yeah, yeah.
His sofa was big and the duvet fluffy, but even so Stacy was squashed up next to him. As she shuffled to get comfy, her cold
feet touched his. “Jeez, your feet are freezing.”
She giggled. “Sorry.”
She eventually settled down and they lay next to each other, snuggled in a duvet, Matt’s body slightly turned to hers.
The light of the flames flickered over them. She really was beautiful. And funny. And had already settled into his family
within the space of a few short hours.
He was lucky to have stumbled across her in the storm.
“I could watch that fire all night,” she said, still staring into its depths.
And he could watch her all night. Although he didn’t say that. That would be totally creepy. He’d known her less than a day.
“I love it at night when it’s quiet and all you can hear is the logs crackling.”
“Do you like your own space? Or do you prefer being with your family?”
Matt’s heart tugged. His usual reply—the one he should say and the one he would have said before his mum passed away—
died on his tongue. It was his turn to stare into the flames.
“I don’t know anymore,” he admitted. “I’m used to the craziness and the noise of having so many siblings. And I used to
love it. But now…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Stacy turned to him. “But now?”
Her hand was on his chest, easing the pressure slightly, letting him open up. “It’s hard. I want to be the brother I used to be.
The brother they deserve. But I’m not sure I am anymore.”
“From what I’ve seen today, you’re a great brother.”
Matt shook his head. “No. Not now. I’ve let them down.” His throat constricted. As if his body wanted to shut him up from
saying anything else.
Stacy shifted an inch closer. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. I haven’t been able to protect them. I haven’t been able to help them⁠—”
Stacy placed her hand on his cheek, stopping him from his swirling thoughts. “Hey, they love you. That’s clear to see and
I’ve only been here for a few hours.”
The heat of her fingers was fiercer than the heat from the fire. “They need more.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. You’re making me sad.”
Matt finally looked at her then. Her forehead was wrinkled. “Why are you sad?”
“I don’t want you to feel like that. It’s clear you all love each other. You’re the best big brother. But you can’t see it
yourself. You need to give yourself a break.” Stacy’s voice rang with emotion.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Matt shushed her and cradled her into his chest. She rested against him, feeling so right, like she belonged
there with him. “I’m okay. I’m just saying a lot of old shit.”
“No, you’re not,” she said into his chest. Her words touched his skin, sending electricity across him. “I know you believe
that. That you’re not good enough. That you should have been better. And if this is all because your mum passed away, you have
to see that you’re grieving just as much as they are. And that’s okay. But you’re still amazing.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so.” He tickled her side gently, trying to take some of the heaviness from their conversation.
He hadn’t meant to spill his heart to someone he’d met that day. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste this opportunity
to cuddle her under a duvet in front of the fire.
“Don’t worry about me. After all, I’m just some mass murderer slash cult leader trying to lure you in.”
She giggled and he instantly felt better. Actually having her next to him, under his duvet, made everything better.
How the fuck was that? He only met her today. Maybe cabin fever was already setting in. Making him feel this strong
desire for her. Making him open up and say stuff he shouldn’t be.
“You might be. But you’re really comfortable, so I don’t think I care right at this moment.”
Reading that as a go-ahead, Matt rested his hand on her hip. Making sure to keep it on top of the duvet. After all, they hadn’t
known each other for long, and she had to stay here till the storm was over. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he made her
uncomfortable by stepping over a line. Stacy rested on his chest.
“Are you feeling a bit sleepier now?” he asked quietly when she hadn’t said anything else.
“Uhm.” She hummed. “It’s nice to hear something other than the storm outside.”
“What else can you hear?”
“Your heart beating.” She drummed her fingers on his chest in time to his heart.
Dum dum. Dum dum. Dum dum.
Before long, Stacy’s breathing changed. Was she asleep? Matt wasn’t going to move a muscle and risk waking her.
Instead he held her closer and let his eyes close. Her now warm body pressed close to his, the storm still rushing outside,
and the fire starting to simmer.
This was heaven. Pure and simple. It felt so right to have her in his arms. Sleeping by his side.
He was going to cherish every second of having her like this. All to himself. But he was so comfortable that he fell asleep
far too soon.
 C HAPTER 7

T here was a faint smell of coffee and a gentle shaking of her arm. But Stacy couldn’t open her eyes. Five more minutes.
But the nudging continued.
Peeping through the tiniest gap in her eyelids, the room was still dark with the familiar sound of the storm outside
and the crackling fire.
But Matt didn’t have a fireplace in his room.
Stacy looked underneath her at a sinfully gorgeous and very naked body.
Shit, shit, shit.
Did she fall asleep on Matt? What the hell was the time? Maybe she could make it back to bed without anyone spotting her.
But when Stacy turned to run away from the man that simultaneously made her feel at home and on an adventure, the
nudging made complete sense.
Rebecca sat on the coffee table, a steaming mug in hand and a friendly smile on her face.
Stacy’s heart sank so fast it must have ended up on the floor between them.
“Morning,” Rebecca said. There wasn’t an ounce of disgust in her tone. Or a line of hatred in her face.
But Stacy was still mortified.
“Morning,” Matt’s gruff voice replied behind her.
Fuck. Scrap that. Now she was literally dying of humiliation.
Rebecca held out the mug. “I made this for you, Matt. I wasn’t sure how you took yours, Stacy.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She just needed to get out of here. Preferably out of the house if the storm would allow her.
Rebecca tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought it best to wake you before any of the others woke up.”
Crap. So they weren’t like any normal family who would just brush this situation under the carpet.
“And,” Rebecca continued, “I thought you’d want to gather your clothes before the boys got a good look at them.”
Over Rebecca’s shoulder, hanging on a clothes dryer was Stacy’s blue thong. Yep, that had to go.
“Thank you.” Stacy shot up without a glance at Matt and went to grab her things.
It was bad enough last night, thinking about Matt hanging them out. Granted, she was slightly glad she’d chosen a cute thong
to wear that morning. What would he have thought if she’d worn her granny pants? She’d have to burn them all as soon as she
got home.
Not that he would ever see them.
Argh.
The fire in front of her was now roaring and scorching hot. But not as hot as her cheeks were.
Not caring if she creased anything up, she scrunched them all in a pile, making sure her thong was well and truly hidden and
took off down the corridor.
As she went, her shorts were starting to fall down. So she grabbed them with her free hand to hold them in place. The last
thing she needed right now was for them to fall down as she ran away.
Before Stacy reached the hallway, she turned back round. She would be hiding away for the next couple of hours, but she
needed one thing.
She headed back to the sofa, careful not to look Matt in the eye. Reaching across the back of the sofa, she grabbed the
coffee out of his hands and turned on her heels.
Dignity be damned. She needed caffeine. Now.
But now she couldn’t hold the coffee, her clothes and Matt’s shorts up. So she walked carefully, the shorts inching down
dangerously with each step.
Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
She was so close to Matt’s room where she could hide away.
If they fell down before that, then so be it. Matt’s top was long enough to cover her bum. She would step out of those
blasted shorts and walk the short distance commando and covered by his plain black t-shirt.
 She’d never be able to look at Rebecca or Matt again. But there was nothing else for it.
Thankfully the shorts stayed up just long enough for her to walk the short distance to Matt’s room. Her neck burned where
Rebecca and Matt were clearly staring after her. But she made it. And at least she could have some coffee.

Matt smiled to himself as Stacy retreated to his bedroom. But when he turned, Rebecca was watching him like a hawk.
“Nice night?” she asked.
Matt sat up properly and grabbed his top from the back of the sofa. He tugged it on before getting out of his duvet cocoon.
“As comfortable as it could be sleeping on the sofa.”
He went to the already lit fire and stocked it. In truth, no matter how uncomfortable sleeping on the sofa was, having Stacy
in his arms made up for it. His body might not agree as he was a bit stiff this morning. But boy, that was the best sleep he’d
ever had.
“I’m guessing you’ll want another coffee made?” she asked.
“Yes, please. I’ll start making breakfast. The others will be up in a minute, no doubt.”
She walked into the kitchen and Matt wasn’t far behind her. He kissed the side of her head as she waited for the kettle to
boil. “You’re the best sister, do you know that?” He was sure most sisters would be pestering him for details about whether
anything happened between him and Stacy. Or they’d go running to their other siblings and spread the gossip.
But not Becca.
“How would you know? You’ve only ever had me.”
“And I wouldn’t want anyone else.” He went to the fridge to pull out sausages and bacon for a full English fry-up.
It didn’t take long for his brothers to surface once the bacon was cooking and wafting through the house. His dad was an
early riser but unusually was one of the last out of his room.
“Anything you want help with?” Sam asked, leaning against the countertop next to the stove where Matt was cooking.
Everyone else, apart from Stacy, was sitting on the sofas, drinking their teas and coffee.
“I got it all covered.”
“Did you have a late night?”
“No,” Matt lied.
“Was the sofa comfortable? Or did you manage to find somewhere a bit nicer?” Sam’s cocky grin said it all. He was trying
to figure out if he and Stacy had hooked up.
“The sofa was fine. I’m a bit stiff, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Sam nodded slowly, his eyes boring into him. “You didn’t fuck her, then?”
“Jesus Christ!” Matt hissed. “Keep your voice down, will you?” He checked over Sam’s shoulder but the rest of their
family were oblivious and talking among themselves.
“So she turned you down, did she?”
Matt saw red. “I didn’t try. Mum and Dad raised us as gentlemen.”
“Pft. They raised you as a gentleman. I was the classic second child and they let the reins go a bit with me. It’s amazing
doing what you want to do. You should try it some time.”
Matt glared daggers at his younger brother. “You’re such an arsehole.”
“Yep. An arsehole that knows how to get laid.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “But to be honest, I’m glad you
weren’t up all night. Because now you can come and check the horses with me.” He slapped Matt on the back with heavy
thumps.
“I would have done that anyway.”
Their parents ran a stables and his mum’s passion had always been training horses. Their land had been divided into six
plots. One for each of the siblings and the last for his parents. Their plot was next to his and had the stables. Sam had taken
over a lot of the running of it since their mum had died and Dad was getting older.
“But at least now you’ll be useful,” Sam replied.
“Grub’s up,” Matt called to his family, ignoring his younger brother.
As they all got up, Sam leant across to him and whispered, “Nice PJs by the way. Perhaps if you didn’t wear those, you
would have seen a bit of action last night.”
And then he walked away, grabbing a stack of plates from the cupboard and placing them on the island.
Matt dished up the last of the sausages and bacon onto platters. He’d cooked a ton of food, but knowing his brothers, it
would all be gone in no time.
“Where’s Stacy?” Nathan asked as he piled his plate high with fried tomatoes, beans and toast.
“She hasn’t come out yet.” Rebecca said, switching the kettle back on to top everyone’s drinks up. Matt knew he could rely
on his sister.
 “I heard the shower running when I walked past,” Tom added. He’d been the last one up this morning, like normal.
Sam watched him carefully, a smirk on his face. Matt glared right back.
He wasn’t telling him jack shit about what happened last night. Even if it did mean Sam thought he’d struck out.
Matt turned his back to him to sort out some more toast for everyone.
And now his stupid brother wasn’t getting under his skin, he could think about last night. Having Stacy cuddled up to him.
Having her sleep with him the whole night. It was amazing.
No matter how much Sam ribbed him about being a gentleman, Matt knew that keeping his hands to himself last night was
the right thing to do. Even when his hands had been itching to explore every available inch of her body. Or to run his hands
through her hair and see how silky it really was.
No, he’d done the right thing. At least she would still feel safe staying here while the storm played out.
But just because his body had acted like a gentleman, didn’t mean his mind was in agreement. It was currently wandering
off to think about the hot, naked, wet beauty in his shower. And if he wasn’t careful, his feet would start walking down the
hallway and nothing would be able to stop him.
 C HAPTER 8

T he Wells family and Stacy sat around the living room, soaking up the fire’s warmth. When she’d finally forced herself
out of her hiding place this morning, Matt had already gone. He and Sam had taken off across the family property to
check on the horses.
And then Stacy understood how hard it must have been last night for Matt to have his dad outside in the storm. Her stomach
had immediately twisted in knots hearing they had ventured out to make sure the animals were okay and had fresh food and
water.
Rebecca had assured her they should be safe, even though the weather forecast was still advising people to stay inside.
Apparently the track across the property had no trees lining it and Sam’s Land Rover was sturdy.
Even so, Stacy was miserable with worry until they stepped back into the house, drenched to the bone over an hour later.
She hadn’t seen him since stealing his coffee this morning. But all of that embarrassment had died the moment she’d found
out he was out in the storm to take care of the family’s horses. And when he was back, she just wanted to rush into his arms and
hold him tight.
She didn’t though.
Instead she let Rebecca fuss over them with fresh towels and looked on as Matt and Sam gave a rundown of the horses to
their family.
It felt like a lifetime before Matt’s eyes found hers and he gave her a crooked smile that had her legs turning to jelly.
“Right, go and have a hot shower, the both of you,” Rebecca ordered. “I’ll have a coffee waiting when you get out.”
The family dispersed from their congregation at the front door, but Matt beelined for her before she could even move her
jelly legs. “Hey,” he said. “How’s your morning been?”
“Great, thanks.” The blush rising on her cheeks was undeniable.
“Good.” A droplet of water ran from his hair down his forehead. Just like it did yesterday when they came in from the
storm.
That felt like a decade ago. So much seemed to have changed in such a small space of time.
“Did you really have to go out in the storm?” she asked quietly, so no one else could hear her.
“Sam’s precious about those horses. He has all the tech hooked up so he can watch them on video. And they might have
lasted till tomorrow. But they’re Sam’s pride and joy. I put my family first. He puts the horses.”
“So you didn’t have to go?”
Her heart was aching painfully and she couldn’t even explain why. Waiting around for over an hour had been hell on earth.
But she couldn’t shake the dread that had settled into her bones.
Matt’s lips lifted at the corners. A beautiful smile on his handsome face. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“Were you worried about me?”
She couldn’t speak. So instead she shook her head. Of course she wasn’t. She’d know him for a day. And anyway, she
hadn’t come away to be distracted by a guy. She’d come away to be independent. And yet…
He laughed quietly. “Now you know how I felt last night when you went out in the storm after Dad.”
“We were sheltered. You were out in it properly,” she hissed, feeling completely stupid that she felt this way but unable to
stop it.
He chuckled again, the sound hitting right in her privates and sending tingles all over her body. Why the hell was this
happening? She should not be feeling like this.
“I’m home safe and sound. No need to worry.”
“I’m not.”
“Course not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get in the shower and warm up a bit.”
He stared at her for a moment, a devil's glint in his eye. Probably seeing all the flashes of dirty thoughts she just had
picturing him naked and in the shower. Flashes of all the ways she could help warm him up.
Matt’s thumb swiped at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “I thought I saw a bit of dribble there.” And then he
walked down the hallway, a cocky-arse grin on his face as he passed her.
An hour later she was settled back with the family on the sofas and armchairs, sitting and chatting quietly.
“What do you do for a living then, Stacy?” Richard asked her.
“I’m a genealogist.” As usual, the faces were blank around her. “It just means I trace people’s family history.”
“I haven’t heard of that before.”
“Not many people have.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I love it. It’s my dream job. I get to help people connect with their family, connect with their ancestors and history. What
about you? I know you do something with horses.”
“We have a stable that Sam runs now. Their mum used to train horses and we offer riding lessons too. And Matt’s a
farrier.”
Well, that explained the muscles.
“I love that you kept the business going and it’s still in the family.”
“I’m just glad that one of the children wanted to keep it going. Matt loves horses, but he chose a different path. And so Sam
stepped up and now he’s the boss. Their mum was an only child so the land was passed down to her, along with the stables and
a love of horses. And when we had the kids, we split up the land so that each of them could have their own space to build their
house and start a life of their own.”
“Really? So you’re all neighbours?”
“We are indeed. And right down the middle, is the creek. The kids used to play down there all the time, and we wanted
each one of them to be able to visit it whenever they wanted.”
“That sounds amazing.” And so very different from her own upbringing. Her parents couldn’t stand to be in the same room
together since…well, probably forever. That was one of the reasons she’d been determined to become a genealogist. Family
mattered. It just so happened that she didn’t really have one. But if she could help people find or connect with their own, then
she would be happy.
“You’ll have to get Matt to show it to you one time. It’s beautiful.”
He wouldn’t be able to show her while this storm was still ongoing. So if Matt ever showed her, it would mean they’d have
to see each other again. “I’d like that.”
“Right,” Nathan said, slapping his thighs and sitting forward. “Sam’s almost falling asleep and Tom’s too busy messaging
his friend, Katie, all the time.” He made quotation marks in the air when he said friend. Tom shot him a look. “Let’s get another
game of Chopsticks going. We haven’t taught Stacy yet.”
“Great idea,” Rebecca said. “I’ll grab the cards.”
They all got up and moved to the dining table.
“You ready for this?” Matt whispered in her ear as she waited to take a seat at the dining table. He pulled out a chair for
her.
“I’m not sure. It seemed a bit rowdy yesterday.” She took her seat and Matt sat in the chair next to her.
“You’ll love it. It’s easy enough.”
“Oh, so it has to be easy for me to get, does it?” Stacy lifted a questioning eyebrow.
Tom laughed at him. “Smooth, Matt.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant it’s easy to understand.”
“You’re not making it any better,” Sam said.
Matt turned to her with a pleading look on his face. “You know what I mean. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m still gonna take you down to teach you a lesson.”
“At last. Matt has met his match,” Sam snickered behind his four cards.
“Ignore them, Stacy,” Rebecca said. “You can only have four cards in your hand. Pick up the discarded card from the right,
and discard a card to the player to your left. We all go as fast as we can. First to get four of the same card shouts ‘chopsticks’
and grabs one from the pile. When that happens, it doesn’t matter what cards you have, just grab a chopstick. The person
without a chopstick loses the round.”
“Got it.” Stacy picked up the deck of four cards and looked through them.
“Why doesn’t Stacy go first as she’s our guest?” Matt said, shuffling his cards about too. Everyone agreed.
“Being a gentleman now isn’t going to save you, Matt,” she said as she discarded a card for Tom to take.
“Anyone else find watching these two more entertaining than Chopsticks?” Sam laughed, as he picked up the card Tom
discarded.
“Shut up and play the game, Sam,” Matt said. Then he leant in to whisper to Stacy. “That’s it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
You’re going down.”
“Whatever you say. But seeing as you haven’t noticed there’s a card for you to pick up, I don’t think you’re really a threat.”
Stacy smirked to herself as Matt rushed to pick up the card from his dad and then discarded one for her.
 She had this.
Chopsticks was just as fun, fast paced and exciting as it had looked yesterday. And very quickly, Stacy was shouting along
with the Wells family. Especially when Matt was being slow or when Tom wasn’t picking up quickly enough and a small pile
of cards was sitting waiting for him.
But the best bit was when she got four matching cards in her hand and got to grab the chopstick first.
Or was it when Matt was the last one to grab for a Chopstick and ended up losing the round?
Or perhaps teaming up with Sam and ribbing Matt and making him mad. Sore loser.
“I think we’ve found someone to match Matt’s competitive side. I love it,” Sam said, resting back in his chair, triumphantly
holding up the last chopstick that Matt hadn’t reached.
“Competitive?” Stacy said, placing her cards on the table. “I think he has to play a bit better to be competitive, doesn’t
he?”
“Right, that’s it,” Matt said, chucking his cards on top of Stacy’s. “I challenge you to Go Fish.”
“Ohhh.” Tom said beside her. “You’ve done it now. You’ve made him mad.”
“Go Fish?” Stacy crunched up her face. “The kids’ game?”
“It’s a very serious game in this family,” Nathan said.
Stacy looked around the table. Everyone’s faces were suddenly straight. “I can tell.” She turned to her ally.
“He’s ruthless and remembers everything when it comes to this game,” Sam said.
She turned to Matt who was already shuffling the deck of cards. “Bring it on.”
His answering smile was wicked. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Hold on to your hats, people,” Tom said as Matt started dealing the deck.
Within two turns, Matt already had his first set of four cards laid triumphantly in front of him. But that was just pure luck.
Two turns after that, he laid one more down. Okay, so maybe he did have a good memory.
But then he asked her for a card she’d been searching for on her first turn and it was clear he really did have a good
memory. He paid attention to every single interaction. And he had an uncanny ability to lay down sets quicker than anyone else
could.
“Matt,” she asked. “Do you have any fours?”
His cocky grin was wider than any she’d seen before as he stared at her. “Go fish.”
So she picked up a card.
On his next turn, he asked, “Stacy, do you have any eights?” She was forced to give it to him.
And then on his next turn he asked again, and she had to hand over her last eight. That triumphant look had her blood
boiling.
He was infuriating and sexy all at the same time. He was thrashing her and it was so irritating. This was a kids’ game, for
Christ’s sake.
“Matt, do you have any ones?” she asked. It was a complete shot in the dark, but she just wanted to be able to take a card
off of him and wipe that smug look off his face.
“Go fish.”
Arsehole.
On his next turn, he twisted in his seat. “Stacy, do you have any nines?”
Stacy scanned her deck. There wasn’t one. He’d got it wrong. The first time in this entire game that he’d miscalculated.
Oh, this was going to be sweet. “Go. Fish.”
His face dropped and the others laughed loudly at him. He took his first card from the pile.
“Matt,” she asked again, with no clue as to whether he had this card or not. “Do you have any queens?”
His jaw clenched tightly as he handed his newly picked up card and handed it straight to Stacy. And that was all she needed
to complete a set.
She couldn’t help the grin on her face as she laid down her queens on the table. Matt looked furious.
As it so happened, Matt still won the game, by a clear mile. But Stacy wouldn’t forget his face dropping when he’d got it
wrong.
“That’s why we don’t like playing with Matt,” Rebecca said as they tidied up the table.
“Although he wasn’t on point as he normally is,” Nathan said, slapping his older brother on the back as he passed.
“Cheer up, son,” their dad said. “You won. Even if you were a little distracted.” He winked before turning.
“Good game,” Stacy said, holding her hand out to Matt for him to shake. She was nothing, if not a gracious loser.
Matt took it, warmth spreading up her arm and into her chest when he did. “And to you. You’re a formidable opponent.”
“And you’re a flatterer.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said quietly, his eyes darkening. “Now what are you going to do as a forfeit?” His eyebrow
rose.
Was he flirting with her?
 There was no way she was about to lose her cool in front of him. So she patted him on his very hard chest as she passed
and whispered, “I would have done anything. But unlucky for you, you didn’t set the stakes beforehand.”
She walked away, her core turning molten as she did so.
In one second flat he’d turned her on so much she was considering fleeing to his bedroom and taking care of herself.
If his family wasn’t here, she might have even pounced on him.
 C HAPTER 9

T he evening was getting rowdy. Well, the girls were getting rowdy. They’d spent the afternoon and evening honouring the
memory of his mum and made everything Irish. It started with hot chocolate like last night. Then it was coffee. And now
they were straight up adding whiskey to any drink.
They were currently dancing around the dining table to music that was playing from Becca’s phone. They’d managed to
rope Sam into hanging out with them. Matt was talking to his dad after clearing up from dinner and his other brothers were in
the living room.
“It’s good seeing them all have fun,” his dad said, leaning against the countertop. He was watching the antics in the dining
room with a smile on his face. The girls were trying to teach Sam a dance routine.
“I’m not sure Sam’s having fun.” Matt laughed. His brother’s face was screwed up in concentration. But he’d do anything
for his sister. Those two had a special connection.
“Stacy’s fitted right in, hasn’t she?”
Matt’s heartbeat quickened. He couldn’t seem to control his body’s reaction to being close to her, or thinking about her.
“She’s great.”
His dad lent in closer. “I think she likes you too.”
“Dad, it’s not like that.”
His dad scoffed.
Okay, it was like that. But that was just because they were two adults of the opposite sex in the same house unable to leave.
There was a chemistry between them, that much was obvious. Especially when she had woken up in his arms that morning.
When she seemed worried about whether he would survive being in the storm. And definitely when she made that sexy
comment about doing whatever forfeit he asked. He was still annoyed with himself that he hadn’t set the stakes.
“Earth to Matt.” His dad waved a hand in front of his eyes. “I think you just proved it is exactly like that. You’re not too
embarrassed to chat to your old man, are you?”
He turned to his dad. He couldn’t concentrate when he looked at Stacy. She stole all of his attention. All of his thoughts.
His dad was looking tired. But not just from one night of staying at Matt’s because of the storm. He looked tired with life.
They’d once been really close. Matt would chat to his parents all the time. About everything. But since his mum had died,
they seemed to be drifting apart. Actually, Matt felt like he was drifting apart from all of his family. They still saw each other,
tradition was tradition after all. But it didn’t feel the same. It was like he wasn’t in the room with them, or watching from the
sidelines as they carried on with normal life.
Maybe it wasn’t that they were drifting. Maybe it was Matt that was pulling away.
“She’s just the girl I rescued from the storm.” Once it was over and he returned her safely back to her holiday cottage, this
chemistry would be over.
It hurt, but it was true.
“Mm, just the girl you rescued.” His dad patted him on the back. “Your mum was just the girl I rescued from a rearing
horse all those years ago. And now I have you five kids to keep me busy.”
“You saved Mum from a horse?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I thought you met at a local dance?”
“We did. But your mum didn’t like me very much. She didn’t want to dance with me when I asked her. Apparently she got a
bad feeling about me.”
“She didn’t like you when she first met you?”
He chuckled. “No, she didn’t. So I found out all I could about her. When I learnt she worked at a stables, I called her daddy
and booked in lessons. She hated that. I think she’d have quite liked it if the horse had thrown me. I kept going back. It cost me
a fortune in lessons. But when I thought I was making progress, I’d say something stupid and I’d be back at square one. I almost
stopped going. Almost gave up on her. It was only because I’d prepaid for the lesson that I went that day. Your mum was
working with a new horse, trying to train it. She was beautiful with her hair tied back and the sun beating down on her. She was
so passionate about horses. And she had such a way with them. I couldn’t help going over to her.”
He rubbed his chin. “In hindsight, I shouldn’t have gone near her or the horse. Especially when I knew how riled up I used
to get her. But I couldn’t help myself. The horse started getting agitated. Your mum tried to calm her down, but the horse started
rearing up. I was watching with my heart in my mouth. This beautiful woman who I’d come to want over anything else in the
world, even if she didn’t want me back, was about to get seriously hurt or killed in front of my eyes. I never felt fear like it. I
jumped the fence and wrenched her to the side as the horse reared again and almost trampled her. Your mum was so dazed, she
couldn’t move. I had no clue what I was doing. But I managed to grab the reins and whispered to calm the horse. Somehow it
worked. It was sheer luck. The horse followed me to the fence and I tied her up using a knot your mum had taught me. All the
time, your mum was standing in the middle of the paddock. And when I reached her again and realised I could have lost her, I
kissed her. Right there and then. And luckily she kissed me back. And the rest is history. You must have heard that story
before?”
Matt shook his head, dumbfounded. “I’ve never heard that. I thought you two met at the dance and hit it off straight away.”
“We must have thought we’d told you at some point. But you see, some people just hit it off. I just had to convince your
mum that’s what it was and we were meant to be.” He went to the cupboard and pulled out a tumbler and poured a shot of
whiskey. “But most importantly, Matt, I want you to have fun. Get distracted. Cuddle up with a woman on the sofa at night.” He
winked.
“You know about that?”
“I came out to get some water during the night and saw you two.”
“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
“Of course not. That’s your secret to tell. Not mine. But start living, Matt. Not for me, or your brothers or sister. Not even
for your mum. Live for yourself. Do what you want to do.” He held out the tumbler glass to Matt to take. “That’s for you. Drink
up and go have fun. I’m heading to bed.”
Matt took the glass. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’s too late for me. And you will have a lot more fun without me around.” He turned to the room. “Night all! I’m
going to bed.”
They all called out ‘night’ and his dad left with one last pat on his back.
Matt gulped down the shot of whiskey his dad had poured him. “Right, how about a game of beer pong?” he called out.
Tom and Nathan opted out, but the others were up for it.
“How about me and Becca,” Sam said, “versus you and Stacy?”
“You’re on, little brother.” Matt grabbed some plastic cups and some beer. Sam got the ball from a table tennis set Matt had
stashed in the cupboard.
When the table was ready, Stacy stood with him, watching their opponents. “You better be good at this,” he said with a
grin.
“Of course. I’m good at everything. Although I’m a bit surprised you didn’t want to try and show me up the way you did
with Go Fish.”
Becca took her shot first but missed, so Matt caught the ball and handed it to Stacy. “It was tempting for sure.”
Stacy took a shot but missed too. “I just need to get into my stride,” she said as she turned to stand with him once more.
Sam hit his shot so Matt chugged the drink but still managed to sink his ball into a cup. Sam graciously swigged it for
Becca.
“I thought you would have wanted a second chance to set some stakes,” Stacy said as Becca missed another shot.
“I was thinking it would be nice to spend more time with you,” Matt said.
Her breath hitched when he said that. She walked to the table to take her turn, but missed again. “You’re distracting me,”
she hissed at him when she retreated.
“I’m not trying to.” But it felt good knowing she was just as affected by him as he was by her.
Both Sam and Matt sank their next turns and downed the drink from the cups.
Standing next to Stacy with their shoulders brushing lightly against each other’s felt so…right. The rounds continued with
him and Sam making most of their shots and the girls mostly missing theirs.
“I think we’re gonna have to start making the girls drink some of these,” Sam said after chugging yet another cup.
“There’s not much point, there’s only a few more left,” Matt replied.
“What’s more fun?” Stacy asked when Matt returned to their waiting spot. “Playing against me, or playing with me?”
Matt smirked. Boy, would he pick playing with her anytime of the week.
She blushed as he gazed down at her, obviously realising where his dirty thoughts had gone with that question. “You know
what I mean,” she said.
“I’m not going to lie, that game of Go Fish was really fun. But playing with you.” He brushed his fingers gently up her arm.
“Nothing will ever beat that.”
 Her cheeks turned a fantastic shade of pink.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Sam called. “Are we playing a game, or what?”
Stacy shook herself from their intimacy and went to the table and sunk her throw.
Becca cursed and knocked back the drink.
Stacy returned to him, with goosebumps still visible on her arms. “I thought me distracting you made you miss your shots?
Seems like I should try to distract you more,” he said.
“Who’s to say you did distract me?”
“I see. You want to play it that way? That you aren’t into me the way I’m into you?” Matt nodded. “You’re not fooling
anyone.” Matt walked to the table and took his shot, thankfully getting the ball into the cup. Otherwise he would have looked
like a right idiot after that cocky statement.
Stacy was biting her bottom lip when he returned. He leant down to her, shielding her from the view of the others. He ran
his thumb over her bottom lip so she released it. “I’m here when you want to start admitting anything.”
And after that she missed every single shot and Matt had to carry home their victory.
Not long after their beer pong game ended, everyone headed to bed. Matt brushed his teeth in his en suite, well aware that
Stacy was on the other side of the door, lounging in his bed once more and still in his clothes.
His willpower to act the gentleman was waning. Especially with the amount of alcohol he’d consumed that evening and the
amount of teasing they’d inflicted on each other. Tomorrow the storm should be over and they would go their separate ways.
And that was something he couldn’t think about right now.
Matt let himself out of the bathroom, and it almost killed him seeing Stacy tucked up in his duvet.
“I’ll put these in the wash again for you,” he said, picking up the neat pile at her feet,
“Thank you.”
“Goodnight, Stacy.” He resisted the urge to walk over and kiss her goodnight. Even if he kissed her on the forehead he
might not end up leaving this room tonight.
“Goodnight, Matt.”
And he turned and walked out the room, his ears straining for the faintest sound from her that might indicate she wanted him
to stay.
He closed the door gently, his heart sinking. Which was stupid. There was no way he was sleeping with her when all of his
family were under the same roof. Even if he did want it with every drop of blood in his body. Even if it was clear she wanted
him just as much.
Matt placed Stacy’s washing on, just like the night before. And then he went to the sofa. Just like the night before. He’d stay
up and hang Stacy’s washing out so it could dry by the morning.
And maybe for the slightest possibility that she might come out again and sit with him on the sofa. Perhaps she’d fall asleep
in his arms once more and make him feel whole again.
A man could dream. Right?
 C HAPTER 10

S tacy awoke with a groan. It was way too light in here. The sun was streaming through the windows where she hadn’t
closed the curtains from the night before.
Had the storm finally passed?
What she wanted to do was roll across the bed, leap out the other side and peek out the window to see.
But that really wasn’t going to happen. Not till she had a cup of coffee inside her and perhaps a couple of painkillers.
Stacy had fallen asleep last night listening to the now familiar sound of the storm and watching the rain lash against the
window.
But now it looked like none of that had happened at all.
Stacy reached for her glass of water. Next to it, on the bedside table, were two tablets and a note.
In case you regret making everything Irish last night. Your new cult leader, Matt.
Stacy grinned to herself as she popped the pills. If being in his cult would be anything like the last two days, she was in
without a second thought.
Matt and his family were incredible. They’d made her feel like one of them, sharing their family jokes, teaching her their
family card games. Every moment they shared was filled with fun, laughter and love. Even when they took the mick out of each
other, there was no denying that underneath the sarcasm was love.
She felt more at home with the Wells family than she did with her own. And the past two days had cemented everything
she’d ever suspected about family. It was important. They’d be your biggest critic and your biggest fan in one fell swoop. And
now she wanted even more to connect every person she met with their family and their ancestry. It was just a shame that for
herself her family unit would never be like the Wells family.
But at least she’d got to enjoy them for two whole days.
Once her headache subsided, Stacy used the toilet and brushed her hair through with her fingertips. She was still wearing
Matt’s clothes. She’d meant to stay up last night till the washing was done and hang it out. And maybe, if Matt was still awake
they could have had another chat. And maybe if she got cold again he would have wrapped her up in his arms once more and
covered her over with his duvet. She’d have been able to nestle into his side and breathe in his now familiar scent.
She’d have had to have left him, of course. Before she fell asleep this time. There was no way she could embarrass herself
again in front of Rebecca or God forbid any of his other siblings.
Stacy pinched her cheeks, attempting to get some colour back into them. What she wouldn’t give for a bit of make-up right
now. She’d spent the last two days around the most attractive family looking like a pig.
And now she was going to have to face them in Matt’s clothes. What were the chances the shorts would fall down?
Knowing her luck, pretty high.
Stacy walked out of the room and down the corridor. The living room was bright and airy, filled with a soft glow streaming
in from the windows.
And it was silent.
“Hey you.” Matt was standing by the opened back door, looking out, sipping from a mug.
God, he was handsome in the morning. Even in his silly Scooby-Doo pyjamas, his hair slightly tousled and a faint
smattering of stubble on his chin.
“The storm stopped.” Matt turned back to look out across his back garden. Stacy joined him. “It’s almost like it never
happened.”
“Where is everyone?” she asked.
“They all left. Couldn’t wait to get away from their overprotective big brother.”
Stacy bumped him with her shoulder. “It’s not overprotective. It’s just you looking after the ones you love.”
“Exactly.” His smile melted her. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you. You?”
“Yeah, okay. As well as can be expected when you’re sleeping on the sofa alone.”
 “A fan of Scooby-Doo surely isn’t afraid of the dark?” she joked.
“Wow, I think you’ve spent too much time with Sam. That hurt.” He laughed. “Do you want a coffee? I kept some pancakes
warm for you.” Matt went to the kitchen.
“Yes, please.” She looked out over the garden. If you could even call it that.
There were no fences or borders. It was a wide expanse of land that sloped gently down. There were a few areas that had
bushes and flowers planted, and a small section of lawn that was kept short. But beyond that area was wild meadow. It was
stunning in the morning October sunshine. It wasn’t warm, but she could stay here with a cup of coffee quite happily.
“This place is stunning,” Stacy said. “You’re so lucky.”
“It is pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Matt joined her once more and handed her a steaming cup of black coffee. He leant his
forearm against the door frame and continued sipping his drink. “Right down there”—Matt pointed to the dip in the distance
—“is the creek. And across from me, hidden in the trees, is Sam’s place. Dad is next door.” Matt pointed to the left. “And
Becca is across from him. She wanted to stay close to Mum and Dad. And then this side.” Matt pointed to the right of his
property. “Is Tom and Nathan.”
“You’re all so close.”
“Hm.” Matt nodded in agreement, but there was that faint hint of pain in his eyes. And his shoulders seemed to rise up
slightly.
“I would have loved a family like yours growing up.”
“What was yours like?”
“Mum and Dad bickered constantly. They broke up when I was really young and haven’t been in a room together since.
Well, at least not without having an argument. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. So it was just me and my imaginary friends
to keep me company.” She blew on her steaming coffee.
“Imaginary friends, eh? I would never have guessed.”
She shrugged. “You gotta do what you gotta do to get through the tough times.”
“That you do.” The way he stared at her felt like he could see into her mind and watch all her memories on a TV screen.
“Anyway, you mentioned pancakes?”
“I did. Homemade pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, or maybe strawberries and squirty cream, or even chocolate
spread.” Matt walked to the kitchen island and uncovered dishes.
“Yum. Or maybe all of it together.”
He bent to the oven and retrieved a dish of pancakes. “Okay, that may be a bit strange, but each to their own, I guess.” He
placed the dish next to everything else.
“All of this for me?”
“Yep.”
“I bet your brothers were furious seeing how much you kept to one side for me.” Stacy turned her back and hopped up to sit
on the counter.
“Don’t worry, they were well fed.”
Stacy picked up a pancake and spread chocolate on top of it. She rolled it up like a cigar and started eating. “I think you’ve
officially ruined me for all storms now. I’m going to expect this sort of treatment from every stranger now.”
Matt stood next to her. “No, this level of treatment only happens at my place.” He popped a strawberry in his mouth.
The possessive tone in his words had her squirming. God, he was hot. She could rip that Scooby-Doo top right off him and
lick him all over.
“It’s a shame these storms only happen once a decade then.” She took another bite of pancake. It was light and fluffy with
so much chocolate. She was in heaven.
“You should have some of these.” Matt picked up a strawberry and held it out for her to bite.
When their gazes connected, Stacy bit into the soft, sweet strawberry, her lips brushing his fingertips. His eyes darkened
watching her. “I hear there will be a thunderstorm soon.”
“Soon?” Stacy bit at her bottom lip to contain her smile. “That sounds like it could be bad.” She shook the squirty cream
can and piped a splodge onto a strawberry. “Here, try this.” She offered it up to him.
He gripped her wrist and directed her hand to his mouth, eating the strawberry and cream concoction in one go. But before
she could pull her hand back, he had her thumb in his mouth, his tongue licking the pad. “There was a bit of cream,” he
explained.
She couldn’t get any words out even if she wanted to. The heat from his tongue had travelled straight to her privates and
they were now throbbing.
“But if I were to spend the thunderstorm here, where would you sleep? You can’t keep sleeping on the sofa.”
He fed her another strawberry, this time with cream on top. “I’m sure I can come up with a solution,” he said.
Just like he did, she took his thumb into her mouth and swirled her tongue round it, licking off the slight remains of cream.
His brown eyes turned the colour of her coffee.
 “Why didn’t you come and see me last night?” he asked softly.
Stacy was taken aback. They’d been playing this strange erotic game of feeding each other strawberries and pretending like
a thunderstorm was coming. She was hot all over from the intimate touches and the hidden meanings behind their words.
But now they were actually talking about them, and making it reality. She had no idea what to say.
“I-I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
Matt’s forehead wrinkled. “You didn’t know I wanted to spend more time with you?”
She shook her head.
“I laid awake thinking about you. Every noise I heard, I thought it was you coming to speak to me.”
Stacy’s heart thudded painfully. Everything he’d just said was so vulnerable and cute. And yet, it also sent the throbbing
between her legs into overdrive. And now her nipples were hard and brushing against the fabric of the top he’d lent her.
“I was hoping you’d sit with me for a bit, and you could come cuddle in with me. Just like you did the night before.”
What was he doing to her? She was melting here into a big gooey mess.
“I at least thought you’d grab your washing so I didn’t hang out your thong again.”
Stacy’s cheeks heated. “I meant to.”
“I wish you would have. I wouldn’t have done anything. Not while my family were in the house.”
Stacy’s heart pounded in time with the pounding between her legs. His family weren’t here now. Would he still stay the
gentleman when they were gone?
“But we could have had some more time together before the storm was over,” he said.
It didn’t take a genius to work out the meaning between the lines. Before the storm was over. When they’d go back to their
normal lives. When she wasn’t around anymore.
Why hadn’t she walked to the living room last night?
“I was meant to,” she repeated.
Matt was ever so close, like he’d stepped towards her without her knowing. His hip pushed against her knee.
“Did you want to speak with me?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Did you want to lay with me?”
She nodded again.
“Would you have stayed the night with me again?”
She went to nod again, but Matt said, “Say it.”
“Y-yes. I wanted to stay with you again.”
He was suddenly in front of her, his body in between her legs, his hands resting on the countertop on either side of her
thighs. “All night?”
He was a breath away from her. His eyes gazing intently into hers, causing heat to rise in her body. She nodded.
“Say it.” His nose brushed hers gently. But that slightest touch sent a shock wave through her body.
She’d lied to herself this morning thinking she’d be able to walk away from the sofa last night. But he wasn’t going to let
her do that now. He was staring into her soul. “I don’t think I would have been able to leave,” she admitted.
“I wouldn’t have let you.”
And then his hands cupped her bum and pulled her towards him. Her lips crashed against his and just like that, they were
kissing frantically like their lives depended on it.
Holy fuck.
He kissed her like she was the air he needed to breathe. He kissed her like he’d never get another chance to take his fill.
His hands roamed her body freely, sneaking up the back of her top and caressing her bare skin. She ran her hands through
his hair and moaned into his kiss.
And then just as quickly as it started, he stopped.
He pulled away from her and turned, his hands interlocking behind his head. His shoulders rising and falling rapidly with
each ragged breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, not even looking at her. “I got carried away.”
The loss of his body heat, his soft but needy caresses, was like a dagger to her heart. She sat on the countertop, vulnerable
and unsure of what the fuck had just happened.
Why was he still not kissing her? Did he not feel the same desire for her?
He blew out a steady breath and turned. His eyes no longer hooded with the lust they shared moments ago. “I’m sorry,” he
said once more.
“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, squashing her knees together and gripping onto the edge of the counter so her
knuckles turned white.
She’d never been desired like that. Or at least felt like she was the object of someone’s desire. And now it looked like it
was all a mistake. And she had no idea what was worse. Living for years with her indifferent ex-boyfriend or feeling that
chemistry with Matt and realising it was all one-sided.
“I don’t want you to feel trapped,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I expect it because you’ve been staying here.”
“Oh.” Stacy’s mind was whirring. “I mean, I didn’t. I just thought we had…a…” She wanted to say a connection. But the
word wouldn’t leave her mouth.
She wasn’t on holiday to develop a connection with anyone. Not even the local shopkeeper. She was here to reassess her
life with no complications in it. And sleeping with a complete stranger who made her feel hot, sexy and fun all at the same time
was hardly keeping it simple.
“I should probably get going now,” she said. “Seeing as the storm has passed.” It was for the best.
Matt visibly stiffened, as if the idea was unbearable.
She gave him a moment to say something. To take the decision out of her hands. Perhaps even go all protective and
possessive again and tell her she was his and he couldn’t let her go anywhere.
God. What was wrong with her?
Ever since he’d rescued her, everything had been turned on its head. And now she was sitting here, waiting for a man to
claim her when she didn’t even want to be claimed.
And he clearly didn’t want to claim her either.
How humiliating. She jumped down from the counter, but as her feet landed on the dark wooden flooring, Matt’s shorts that
were precariously too big for her finally gave up. They fell to the ground in a pool around her feet, leaving her naked in his
oversized T-shirt.
Stacy stood frozen to the spot.
Matt eyed her like his prey. “Fuck it, I fucking need you.” He walked to her, determined.
Stacy wasn’t about to move even if she wanted to.
In three strides, Matt was in front of her. He pulled her to him and crushed his lips against hers once more. Stacy moaned
into him and opened her mouth to let his tongue lap at hers. One of his hands held the back of her neck so she couldn’t move
from their kiss and the other groped her naked bum.
“You’re fucking perfect, do you know that?” Matt said between ravishing kisses.
He twisted them and pushed against a full-length cabinet. Her leg instantly twisted around his hip and he rewarded her by
letting his hands wander along the opening she’d just exposed for him. He brushed her folds, making her moan louder through
their kisses.
“I need to taste you,” he said, before lifting her from the floor and turning them once more. He placed her on the kitchen
island, exactly where she’d been sitting moments before, and broke their kiss off just long enough to whip her top off.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said as he stared at her, naked on his countertop.
She sucked in her breath as he cupped and licked her breasts, swirling her nipples with his tongue like they were an ice
cream. He trailed kisses down her stomach until he had to kneel on the floor so he could kiss her between the legs.
As soon as his mouth connected with her lips, Stacy threw her head back. God, she needed this. She’d been on edge for two
whole days and the need inside her was getting worse by the second.
If only he’d lick her.
As if he could read her mind, Matt’s tongue darted out and licked between her folds. He savoured every inch of her and
when he got to her clit, her body shuddered.
Holy shit. There were bright flashes in her eyes and she had to grip onto his hair to steady herself.
“You’re exquisite,” he whispered as he dived back in to taste her again.
She’d never had someone be so vocal before. Never had someone compliment her so much. And from the throbbing through
her entire body, she liked it.
His tongue explored her before breaking away, leaving her vibrating. “Do you like that?”
Stacy nodded as he licked her again.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I fucking love that.” She gripped his hair tighter. There was no way she was going to let him move. Not when she felt that
build-up that had all her muscles clenching in desperation. “Faster,” she told him.
And he did, a wicked smile no doubt on his lips. But right now she didn’t care. He was going to make her come any
second, and she needed it. She tensed, desperately trying to find that release. It didn’t matter if she’d only just met him. It didn’t
matter if she wasn’t here to complicate her life with another man. It didn’t matter that he was making her say and do things
she’d never done before.
Because he was about to make her come and already she knew it was going to be the best feeling she’d ever experienced.
“Faster,” she cried. She was so close.
And when he stepped up the pace of his licking once more, she shattered around him and fell backward on the kitchen
island countertop, crying out Matt’s name as he continued licking her through her orgasm.
“Holy fuck,” she mumbled, lights still flashing in her eyes.
 Matt chuckled. “That good, hey?”
God, he was cocky. But seeing how hard he’d made her come, maybe he deserved to be.
“That was incredible,” she said, opening her eyes a slither and looking at the god between her legs, a triumphant smile on
his face.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet. Don’t move.” And then he left down the hallway before she could ask him where he was going.
He better be going to get a condom.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the food that still surrounded her.
Fuck yeah, this was so happening right now. She’d never made a decision so quickly in her life.
 C HAPTER 11

M att rushed back to the kitchen—back to where he left Stacy sprawled on the countertop waiting for him—as fast as
his legs would carry him, condom packet in hand.
If she moved a muscle, he would die on the spot. Now that he’d tasted her, he needed more. So much more.
Maybe he should have brought the whole box.
When he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks.
How the fuck had he got so lucky as to find her on the side of the road in the storm?
Stacy was still where he’d left her, but now she was covered in squirty cream and chocolate spread. Matt’s mouth instantly
watered as he slowly made his way round the island, drinking in the sight of her glorious, delicious body waiting for him. He
placed the condom packet next to her. He needed both his hands right now.
He’d never get his fill of her. That whole, goddamn box of condoms wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his appetite for her.
Stacy watched him like a hawk. “D-do you like?”
“Like?” he all but growled. “I more than fucking like.” He hooked his arm underneath her back and pulled her tits towards
him, instantly devouring her chocolate nipple when it was in licking distance.
She writhed in his arms. Wanting more, he swapped to the other nipple which was covered in cream. God, this woman
tasted sensational. It wasn’t the chocolate. It wasn’t the cream.
It was her.
He ran his tongue across her chest and up her neck, her skin prickled with goosebumps as he did. “You’re gonna be the
death of me,” he whispered in her ear.
“I think the cream and chocolate clogging up your arteries will be the death of you,” she replied, grinding into his hard-on,
her hands running through his hair.
He laughed with her. Even when he was so turned on he might come in his trousers, she could make him laugh. “No,” he
said, nuzzling her hair. “It will definitely just be you.”
Her breath hitched and he captured it with another kiss.
Unable to resist any longer, Matt broke away from Stacy and tugged off his top. Her hands instantly explored his chest and
stomach, tracing every ridge, brushing every inch of his skin. Her touch was driving him wild. All the blood in his body rushed
to one very hard place that Stacy’s hands were now caressing.
“Take these off,” she demanded.
He didn’t need telling twice. Tugging his trousers down quickly, he stepped out of them and flicked them to the side with
his foot. She drank him in like he was a cup of her delicious homemade hot chocolate, licking her lips at the sight of him.
He pulled her to the edge of the countertop, rubbing his length against her. She was still so wet. He groaned, trying to resist
the temptation to just push into her bareback.
Finding enough sense for a second, Matt grabbed the condom packet, tore it open and put it on. All the time Stacy kissed,
and rubbed and played with him. As soon as he was covered, he pushed into her slowly, making her bite on her lip to keep in
her moan.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” he said, brushing her lip with his thumb so she’d stop biting. He continued pushing in. “Don’t go silent on me.
I want you to tell me exactly how good it feels.”
“Fuck, Matt,” she said immediately. “Faster.”
“No fucking chance. I’m taking my time with you.” He held her hips in place and watched every movement of her face.
Every time she squeezed her eyes tight, every time she bit her lip, every time she drew her eyebrows together.
“Matt,” she pleaded as he kept up his gruelling slow pace.
But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want this feeling to end. He’d waited long enough, and now he was going to enjoy every
second and make sure she did too.
Running a hand up her side, he caressed her breast and tweaked her nipple.
“You’re killing me,” she moaned.
 He trailed his hand and tangled it in her hair, tilting her head so he had access to her neck and ear. “You sure it’s not all the
chocolate and cream?” he whispered.
“No,” she moaned. “It’s you.”
She clenched onto him, so tight and slick. He had the sudden urge to claim her as his.
So he did.
Gripping her tightly, he pistoned in and out of her quickly, causing her to yell in ecstasy. Her head was thrown back, her
eyes closed.
He couldn’t get enough. “Don’t you dare come,” he warned her. He wasn’t ready for this to be over. His own release was
crashing down on him, but he wouldn’t let it come. Not yet. He needed more. So much more.
“I can’t stop it,” she said, her breath ragged.
That was music to his ears. He loved that he could do that to her. That she felt every bit of how amazing this was as he did.
There was a gush between her legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“Matt.”
“I know.” He couldn’t hold it back any longer. It was all going to come to an end. Any minute now. And there was nothing
he could do to stop it. “Come now,” he demanded.
And she did. Just as he reached his own climax, her muscles clenched around him and she threw her head back, calling out
his name.
Everything turned black for a moment, the only sensation was him and her.
Matt didn’t know how long it took to come to. But when he did, Stacy was sprawled on the countertop, her arm resting over
her eyes, her breathing still ragged. He pulled away from her and disposed of the condom.
When he returned, she was starting to sit up. She didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed around him. And he could drink in
every inch of her glorious body still. That sight would never get old.
“That was…” she said, her breathing still heavy.
“I know.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“Totally worth waiting for your family to leave.”
Matt laughed with her. “Definitely.”
He bent to retrieve their clothes and handed them to her. It was a shame to have her cover up again. But her luscious curves
and the sexy smile on her face were about to make him hard again.
When he was dressed and she had her top on, she jumped down from the countertop and put on the shorts.
Taking her hand, he pulled her to him. “Are you going to stay and have another coffee with me?” He nuzzled her nose.
“If you’re lucky,” she replied.
“What about if I tempt you with sitting on the deck with a blanket?”
“With the gorgeous view?”
He nodded.
“I’m in.” She looked up at him through long eyelashes.
Yep, he could have her again, right here, right now.
Before he could do anything about it, his front door opened.
Sam walked in, and when he spotted Matt and Stacy together in the kitchen, a cocky grin spread across his face. “Hiya,” he
said, closing the door and shucking his shoes off. All the time his eyes were on them. “What are you guys up to?”
The heat radiating from Stacy’s blush was immense.
“We’ve just finished breakfast,” Matt said.
“I can see that.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“I was just getting my clothes and getting in the shower,” Stacy said, running to her neat pile of clothes on the dining table
that Matt had put there when all his family had left.
She all but ran to the bedroom without another glance at Matt or Sam.
Matt glared at his younger brother. Arsehole.
“What?” Sam asked when the bedroom door had closed.
“You know what.” Matt started to clear up the dishes from breakfast. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Sam leant against the kitchen island. “I forgot my phone charger. And I thought Stacy might want a lift back home.”
“Yeah. Not going to happen. I’ll be taking her home.” Like he was going to miss out on an opportunity to be with her.
Sam chuckled behind him. “I thought you might like a moment's peace.”
He didn’t even justify that with a response.
“No?” Sam said. “I’ll go ahead and grab my charger then.” His footsteps retreated down the hallway and Matt kept clearing
away.
Sam soon returned, swinging his charger in the air. “I won’t stick around,” he said, going to the front door and pulling on
his shoes. “I don’t want to intrude.” He opened the door. “Oh,” he said, turning back. “And I wanted to say, I’m glad you
stopped being a gentleman. I mean, I would have done it sooner. But better late than never, hey?”
He winked and was gone before the pancake Matt had thrown splattered against the front door.
 C HAPTER 12

S tacy drove along Matt’s driveway in her new rental. They’d replaced her car this morning, which had meant she’d been
able to follow through with her plan to make Matt a thank-you gift. Well, not gift…pie.
On the passenger seat next to her was an almost all homemade apple pie. It had very nearly fallen off the seat on a
few occasions, but they were here in one piece.
As she drove up the last stretch of Matt’s driveway, Stacy groaned. There were six cars parked in front of his house. The
same cars that had been there when Matt had brought her home just three days before. She stopped.
Why were all his family there? Again. Did they not spend any time apart?
Although, she literally was turning up at Matt’s door twenty-fours after she’d left. So maybe she wasn’t one to talk.
Stacy glanced down at the pie. She thought it was a cute idea to bake it for him. Especially as he was such a foodie. It was
a nice gesture to say thank you for being so generous with his home.
Okay, and she’d had some serious daydreams about spreading delicious food all over his body and licking it off.
But who could blame her? The man was a god.
There was no way she could turn up at his door with all his family there holding a thank-you pie. Desperate much?
No, she would turn around and try again another time.
Or maybe she should just forget her wild fantasies of Matt smothered in apple pie with cream. Or custard. Or even ice
cream.
Stacy let out a dreamy sigh. Yeah, that fantasy wasn’t going anywhere.
But she was.
Before she could put the car in reverse, a face appeared at her window. “Hello, Stacy. What are you doing here?” Richard
asked.
Bugger. “I, uhm. I came to drop off a thank-you pie for Matt. But I can see he’s busy. So I’ll come back another time,” she
called through the window.
“Nonsense. Everyone would love to see you again.” He opened the car door for her like a gentleman, giving her no choice
whatsoever to escape.
Well, this was going to be humiliating. She turned the ignition off and unbuckled her belt. Richard waited patiently for her
to pick up the pie dish and held the door open for her to step out.
“That looks delicious,” he said, shutting the door for her.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to bake one. I cheated and brought the pie crust ready-made. But I thought practice makes
perfect, so I might as well start practising now.”
Richard’s smile was almost brighter than the October sunshine beaming down on them. The storm had passed now and it
was like it had never happened. Although it was still chilly and Stacy had a big knitted cardigan on.
“Matt will be happy. It’s his favourite.”
“Is it?” Stacy looked up at Richard as they walked. That was a result.
“Yeah, his mum used to make it.”
Her heart plummeted. “Oh dear. It’s not going to be anywhere near as good as that.”
“We all have to start somewhere. I’m sure it tastes as good as it looks.”
Stacy’s mouth turned bone dry as they scaled the porch steps together.
Richard didn’t knock on the front door, instead he opened it and said, “Look who I found.”
As expected, all of Matt’s family were gathered round the kitchen island. She held the pie in front of her like a shield.
Why didn’t she turn around instantly when she’d spotted all the cars? Instead she had to look down at the pie and get lost in
fantasies about Matt. Her cheeks burned.
Oh great. Everyone was going to know she liked him. They were all going to know something happened between them.
Maybe she should just drop the pie on the floor and run out the door. She’d never have to see them again.
But then her gaze connected with Matt’s. And her heart stopped its thundering beat.
 Okay. This was so worth it. Just to see him again. Even for one minute.
“Stacy!” they all called and came to her. Kissing her on the cheek and saying hello. Matt was at the back of the group, his
eyes burning into her.
“What are you doing here?” Rebecca asked, after hugging her.
Stacy held the pie up. “I baked a thank-you pie for Matt. You know, just to say thanks for having me during the storm.” Out
of the corner of her eye, she spotted the look Sam gave his older brother, and the grin on his face. But Stacy ignored him.
“You’re so sweet. You must stay for dinner,” Rebecca said.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I was just dropping this off.”
“Nonsense. Let me take that from you, all these guys are going to want a slice of that straight away.” Rebecca took the dish
from her and led the men away to the kitchen.
All the men apart from Matt. “Hey,” he said, taking a step forward.
“Hi.” Stacy bit her lip. She really hadn’t thought this through. What the hell was she meant to say? How was she meant to
act?
“Thanks for the pie.”
“It’s nothing. I just wanted to say thank you for looking after me. It’s apple. Your dad said it’s your favourite.”
Matt stared at her like he could see all her thoughts.
She licked her lips. Those flashes of him covered in food springing to the forefront of her mind.
“It is my favourite. Come on. We should go over there before they eat it all.”
“No. It’s fine. I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to pop it in.” And spread the pie all over your chest before licking it
off.
Matt grinned.
He couldn’t actually read her thoughts. Could he?
“You’re not getting away that easily,” he said. His voice was almost a growl.
Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her to the kitchen where the pie was being served. Being this close to
Matt again was excruciating. She wanted to rip off his clothes and have her dirty way with him all over again. If only his family
weren’t here.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Matt whispered in her ear.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
“Matt, do you have any cream?” Tom asked.
“Only squirty,” Matt replied, looking at Stacy. Her knees almost buckled. “Do you fancy any squirty cream, Stacy?” he
asked, his voice like velvet.
“N-no, thank you.” He was torturing her. He knew exactly why she’d come today. What was running through her mind. And
he was enjoying every second of her humiliation.
Rebecca handed bowls to Matt and Stacy, interrupting their silent stare-off.
“Chuck me the cream, Tom,” Matt said, his gaze still not breaking contact with Stacy’s.
He caught the can of squirty cream in mid-air. His cocky grin grew wider.
Everyone was starting to tuck into their own pie, but Stacy couldn’t stop watching Matt. His was the opinion that really
mattered. He took his first bite.
But then something strange happened to his face. It contorted in ways she hadn’t seen before and had no clue how to
interpret. Tom coughed and patted his chest. And now looking around at everyone else, it was clear something was wrong.
Oh good God. What had she done to the pie?
“It’s lovely,” Matt said, digging in for another piece.
Well, he was a crap liar. Stacy scanned the others. What was going on? Matt was making eye contact with every single
person but her, his focus like a laser. He was warning them to eat it and not say a word.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked the room.
“Nothing,” they all chorused back. Shovelling more in their mouths as if that would hide whatever was going on.
Stacy picked up her bowl, but Matt took it off of her. “I think I might save some for later,” he said.
Stacy rolled her eyes at him. Like that was going to cover this up. She’d obviously messed up something with the pie. But
how bad could it really be?
Skirting around Matt before he could realise what she was doing, she made her way to the remaining pie in the dish, took a
forkful and shoved it in her mouth.
She instantly regretted her decision.
The apple pie filling was still crunchy, and not soft like it should have been. That might have been okay, but the filling was
also a strange mixture of salt and cinnamon. She must have put too much of both into the mixture.
She covered her mouth. “Oh my goodness. Guys, that is horrific. Stop pity-eating it.”
“Thank God,” Tom said. “I thought I was going to die if I had to have another bite.”
Another random document with
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Persian abodes, the glittering temples, vii. 264.
pestilence strike all trades in Rome, Now the red, etc., viii. 349.
Petulant set his mark, vii. 497.
peuple serf, corveable, etc., iii. 290.
Phœnix gazed by all, xii. 388.
Phœnix Pindar is a vast species alone, The, viii. 57.
See vast.
Phœbus sung, the no less amorous boy; Like, etc., viii. 73.
phantasma, in a; or a hideous dream, etc., xii. 192.
Phidias is illustrious, That the name of, etc., vi. 241.
Philarmonia’s undivided dale, In, iii. 166; iv. 218.
philosophy fell into a sadness, Thus repelled, etc., iii. 123.
Physician, heal thyself! vii. 65.
physician, The whole need not a, i. 58; xii. 174.
physical consideration of the senses and the mind, xi. 129.
picks clean teeth, where he, iv. 147.
picks pears, saying this I like; As one, etc., iii. 371; iv. 22.
pictures of nothing and very like, xi. 248.
pictures we see, Hogarth’s we read; Other, etc., viii. 133; ix. 391.
pierceable by power of any star, not, vi. 288; x. 372.
pigmy body of a fiery soul, etc., viii. 176.
pilloried on infamy’s high and lasting stage, etc., vi. 222; viii. 65.
pilloried, the fellow that was, x. 375.
pilot to weather the storm, the, iii. 98.
Pingo in eternitatem, iv. 220; ix. 313.
pious orgies, ix. 14; xii. 258.
piping as though he should never be old, v. 98; ix. 9; xii. 261.
Piqued, we were, i. 172.
pity is only another name for self-love, xi. 140.
places where I also am admired, There are, vi. 93.
plain and honest method, A, vi. 145.
Plain truth needs no flowers of speech, xii. 105.
Play round the head, i. 135; vi. 149.
player’s province, they but vainly try the, etc., iv. 224.
pleasant sight see, And I that all this, etc., xi. 269.
pleasant though wrong, viii. 167.
pleas’d attention ’midst his scenes we find, with, etc., viii. 263.
Pleas’d they remember their august abodes, x. 255.
pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw, etc., iii. 40; vi. 234; ix.
118; x. 173.
Pleased with itself, ix. 480.
pleasure in art, which none but artists feel; a, i. 76.
pleasure in painting which none but painters know, There is a, vi.
5.
pleasure’s finest point, viii. 409.
pleasurable poetic fervour, x. 158.
ploughed with our heifer, if they had not, etc., iii. 293.
plumb, it was out of all, etc., vi. 218.
plume her feathers, and let grow her wings, Can, etc., viii. 204.
Plutarch of Banishment. He compares those who cannot live out of
their own country, etc., vi. 101 n.
poet blind and bold, the, vi. 176.
Poeta nascitur—non fit, v. 379.
Poetry has something divine in it, because it raises the mind, etc.,
v. 3.
poets succeed best in fiction, iii. 49.
pointing to the skies, viii. 336.
politeness of his style and the genteelness of his expressions, by
the, viii. 157.
pomp of elder days, the, x. 205.
pomp of groves and garniture of fields, The, ix. 98.
Ponder well, viii. 323.
Poor gentleman, it fairs no better with him for he’s a wit, i. 116.
poor man’s only music, The, xi. 502; xii. 56.
Poor Robinson Crusoe, etc., x. 358.
Pope Anastasius the Sixth, I am the tomb of, v. 18; x. 63.
Popery was the ghost of the Roman Empire, etc., ix. 374.
popular harangue, the, the tart reply, iii. 406.
porcelain of Franguestan, the, ix. 60.
poring pedantry, of, v. 176.
port as meek as is a maid, And of their, etc., vi. 216; vii. 25; viii.
371; xi. 340; xii. 68.
Posthæc meminisse juvabit, vi. 25.
Posterity, that rich and idle personage, i. 298.
potent art, by their so, xii. 143.
pound of honey would draw more flies, a, etc., viii. 442.
pours out all as plain, As downright Shippen or as old Montaigne,
He, iv. 321, 341; vi. 57; viii. 93; ix. 258.
power of conferring benefits, by the, etc., vii. 427.
powers that be, the, vi. 148; viii. 375; xii. 284.
power to do if we will, that it is a, xi. 59.
Praise and blame, reward and punishment, are just and proper,
etc., xi. 279.
praise him, or blame him too much, viii. 396.
Pray lend me your garter, Madam, xii. 451.
pray no more, viii. 309.
precepts here of a divine old man, The, vi. 332.
precious jewel of the soul, xii. 105.
preferable regards, viii. 153.
prejudices, because they are, vi. 36.
Prematur nonum in annum, ii. 104.
prepared to sacrifice or to hazard, etc., vi. 153.
presens Divus, iii. 18 n., 350 n.
present no mark to the foemen, i. 11.
present deity they shout around, A, etc., x. 191; xii. 250.
preserve the most perfect beauty, if you mean to, etc., vi. 138.
pride and covetousness, iv. 2.
pride in erring reason’s spite, In spite of, xi. 552; xii. 270.
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, etc., v. 74.
priest calls the lawyer a cheat, The, etc., xi. 443.
Priests were the first deluders of mankind, etc., iii. 277.
Pritchard’s genteel and Garrick’s six feet high, viii. 176.
privilege of talking nonsense, the, etc., x. 120.
Procul, O procul, este profani, vi. 185.
prodigy of genius, as a, v. 123.
production of a scoffer’s pen, the, i. 116.
progression from them, to take, etc., xii. 47.
Proh pudor, iv. 199.
Prologues spoken by the ghost of an old king of Ormus, xii. 28.
propagation too, there were, vi. 174.
proper study of mankind is man, the, viii. 91; xi. 492.
prophet has most honour, A, iv. 189.
propter vitam vivendi perdere causas, Et, vii. 162.
prophesier of things past, iv. 241.
prophetic mind, iii. 343.
Proteus coming from the sea, There is old, etc., i. 34; viii. 149; ix.
491; xi. 197.
proud as when blue Iris bends, xii. 166.
Proud Glaramara northward caught the sound, etc., iii. 157.
proud keep of Windsor, iii. 336 n.; vii. 11; vii. 276; ix. 37.
proud submission and dignified obedience, viii. 99 n.
proud to be at the head of so prevailing a party, viii. 36, 83.
proud to die what he was born, viii. 290.
Proudly I raised the high thanksgiving strain, etc., iii. 115.
proved that the painter, If it has been, etc., vi. 131.
public creature, vii. 77.
publish, But why then, etc., xii. 32.
puff direct, vi. 289.
pull an old house, etc., iii. 124.
punish the last successful example, iii. 290.
pure, all things are pure, To the, viii. 53.
pure defecated evil, vi. 314.
Pure in the last recesses of the mind, i. 57; iii. 273; v. 361; vi. 7; vii.
281; xii. 44, 149.
pure religion breathing household laws, xi. 190; xii. 464.
purple light of love, the, i. 251; x. 380; xii. 156.
put his hook in the nostrils, vii. 13.
puts his hand in his breeches’ pocket like a crocodile, That he, vi.
67.
puts the same common name into a capacity, etc., xi. 128.
puzzling o’er the doubt, xii. 127.
pyramid of sweet-meats, a, etc., ix. 278.

Q.
Quam nihil ad tuum, Papiniane, ingenium, vii. 294; xi. 549; xii.
186.
Quantum lenta solent inter Viburna Cupressi, v. 82 n.
quantum meruit, v. 123; xi. 363.
Quatre heures passées il faut fermer, Citoyens, vi. 16.
Que peu de chose est la vie humaine, vi. 27.
Que peut vous inspirer une haine si forte? etc., iii. 120.
Que, si sous Adam même, etc., x. 250.
Que terribles sont ces cheveux gris, viii. 159.
queen of night, whose large command, The, etc., viii. 67.
Queen overhearing what Betty did say, Then the, etc., xii. 302.
Queen’s name was a tower of strength, the, xi. 555.
question being reduced within these limits, the, etc., xi. 85.
Quicquid agit quoquo vestigia vertit, etc., ii. 331; vi. 105.
Quicquid agunt homines nostri farrago libelli, viii. 91.
Quid sit pulchrum quid turpe, etc., viii. 92.
quidlibet audendi potestas, x. 13.
Quit, quit for shame, etc., xii. 435.
quite optional, xi. 338.
quite chap-fallen, xii. 4.
quod sic mihi ostendis incredulus odi, ii. 129; viii. 127, 243, 436; ix.
132.

R.
race is not to the swift, the, etc., vii. 195.
rainbow’s lovely form, Like the, iii. 289.
rais’d upon his desperate foot, And, etc., viii. 66.
raise jars, jealousies, strifes, etc., v. 223.
raised so high above all height, viii. 463.
random, blindfold blows of Ignorance, the, vii. 59.
ranged in a row, ix. 57.
Raphael grace, the Guido air, the, vi. 270; xii. 156.
rari nantes in gurgite vasto, vi. 299; x. 356.
Rash judgments and the sneers of selfish men, vii. 367.
ravens are hoarse that croak, etc., xi. 304.
reaches the verge of all we hate, x. 398.
Read his history in a Prince’s eyes! iv. 329.
read no more, etc., x. 62 n.
Read the names, says Judicio, v. 280.
reading rabble, the, iii. 218.
ready to allow that some circumstances, I am very, etc., vi. 134.
ready to sink for him, I was, etc., viii. 301.
real hearts of flesh and blood, etc., viii. 205; xi. 197.
See warm.
reason but from what we know? What can we, etc., iv. 113; vii. 51,
249.
reason for the faith, etc., v. 302; xii. 396.
reason how this came to pass is, the, etc., vii. 174 n.
reason I shall beg leave to lay before you, For this, etc., vi. 129.
Reason is the queen of the moral world, etc., iv. 206.
reason of their unreasonableness, the, v. 325.
reason of this terrible summons? What is the, etc., viii. 216.
reason, make the worse appear the better, xii. 289.
reason pandering will, xi. 110.
reason why, The, I cannot tell, But I don’t like you, Dr Fell, v. 318.
reasoning, self-sufficient thing, A, an intellectual all in all, ii. 130.
reasons for the faith, etc., i. 172.
Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree, etc., xi. 123.
recantation had no charms for him, Such, iii. 157; vi. 176.
reclaim’d by modern lights, And though, etc., viii. 51.
Red cross, the, etc., iii. 111.
red-leaved tables of the heart, within the, v. 235; vi. 192.
Reduce all tragedy by rules of art, etc., viii. 67.
reeds bow down, the very, as though they listened to their talk, v.
199.
reign, he held his solitary, xii. 75.
refined and intellectual music, viii. 363.
reformer nor a house-breaker, xii. 310.
reform and live cleanly, vii. 175 n.
reformed rake makes the best husband, a, v. 238.
reformed this indifferently among us, of late, etc., vi. 134.
reformer is a worse character than a housebreaker, a, iv. 264.
rejouissoient tristement selon la coutume de leur pays, se, i. 100.
relegated to obscure cloisters, x. 208.
relieve the killing languor and over-laboured lassitude, iii. 132; v.
357.
religion, established by law, excepted our, x. 363.
relish all as sharply, passioned as we, to, iii. 226.
relish him more in the scholar, You shall, etc., viii. 378.
Rembrandts, Correggios, and stuff, vi. 312.
remorse, shall be in him, etc., xii. 458.
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, etc., vi. 90.
renounce, Oh how canst thou, the boundless store, etc., i. 18; v.
100.
Replete with strange hermetic powder, etc., viii. 63.
Repose! won’t you have the whole of eternity to repose in, xi. 289.
reprobate, to every good word, etc., vii. 135; x. 235.
reptile sting another reptile; What? if one, etc., viii. 422.
re-risen cause of evil, iii. 111.
resembles a person walking on stilts in a morass, viii. 331.
resembling a goose-pye, ix. 71; xi. 200.
Respice finem, vi. 27; vii. 200.
restored and shaking off her chain, xi. 413.
retire, the world shut out etc., ix. 292; xii. 122.
return to our own institute, But to, etc., vi. 180.
returning with a choral song, etc., x. 187.
revenge, And so is my, viii. 228.
revered and ruptured Ogden, xi. 341.
reverberation, with thousand-fold, xi. 413.
reverbs its own hollowness, xii. 160.
reverend bedlams, colleges and schools, v. 118.
reverend name, a, ix. 23.
revive the ancient spirit of loyalty, xii. 446.
reward, He has had his, ix. 25.
reward, its own exceeding great, ix. 65.
ribbed sea-sand, as is the, etc., vi. 196; xii. 274.
rich and rare, v. 369.
rich strond, iv. 214; v. 192.
rides in the whirlwind, viii. 560; xii. 292.
right divine of kings to govern wrong, The, i. 285; iii. 105; vii. 374.
right hand, the, knows what the left, etc., x. 345.
Right well I wote, most mighty sovereign, v. 187.
ring of mimic statesmen and their merry king, the, viii. 152, 555.
Rings the earth with the vain stir, vi. 61; xii. 395.
rise sadder and wiser on the morrow morn, v. 359.
river wanders at its own sweet will, the, i. 319 n.
road had done the Captain justice, the, iii. 131 n.
roast duck, a, vi. 417.
Roaming the illimitable ocean wide, xi. 495.
roguish eyes, has, xi. 298.
Roland for his Oliver, a, iv. 296.
Roll on, ye dark brown years, etc., v. 18; xi. 300.
rolling stone gathers no moss, a, xi. 519.
Rome of the sea, the, ix. 267.
Rome, when you are at, vii. 66.
Romulus et Liber pater et cum Castore Pollux, etc., x. 7.
root springs lighter the green stalk, so from the, etc., xi. 1, 131, 183.
rooted malice of a friend, with the, viii. 474.
rose and expectancy of the fair State, xii. 276 n.
rose like a steam, etc., xii. 261, 292.
Rosy Ann, vii. 70, 71.
round fat oily men of God, i. 59; xii. 332.
Round Table, To the President of the, i. 41.
Rubens’s pictures were the palette of Titian, ix. 52 n.
rubies, its price is above, ix. 351; xii. 377.
runs the great circle, etc., viii. 102; xii. 49.
runs the great mile, etc., xii. 253.
rule, a little sway, a little, etc., vi. 328.
ruling passion once expressed, the, iii. 211.
ruling passion strong in death, etc., vii. 230.
run and read, to, v. 183.

S.
sacred to verse, and sure of everlasting fame, vi. 45.
sacro tremuere timore, etc., iv. 17.
sad historian, the, of the pensive plain, i. 114; iii. 315.
sad wicked dogs, ii. 160.
said or sung, viii. 264.
Sailing with supreme dominion, etc., iii. 323; iv. 215; v. 12; viii. 57.
St George for merry England! xii. 15.
saint, That is the man for a fair, xii. 277.
salt of the earth, the, xii. 402, 425.
same footsteps of nature trending or printing upon several subjects
or matters, by the, v. 327.
same that was, and is, and is to be, the, iii. 177; xi. 414.
sanction of all mankind, But we have the, etc., vi. 128.
sand-bank, ix. 326.
sanguine flower, Like to that, etc., xii. 261.
sat not as a meat but as a guest, And, viii. 54.
Satan, profoundnesses of, xii. 402.
Satyr that comes staring, A, etc., vii. 215.
Saviour, when the meek, bowed his head and died, v. 184.
scale, a weight of ignorance, putting in one, etc., vi. 146.
scales that fence, the, xii. 269.
Scared at the sound himself has made, iv. 322.
scatter his dung with a grace, iii. 51.
Scatter his enemies and make them fall, viii. 198.
scattered like stray gifts o’er the earth, etc., iv. 346; vii. 224; viii.
144; ix. 366.
sceptical, puzzled, and undecided, etc., vii. 266.
Schiller! that hour I would have wished to die, etc., iv. 219; vii. 226.
Scholar! I was a master of scholars, a, viii. 167, 177, 320.
scholar’s melancholy, the, xii. 75.
School calleth unto School, ix. 106.
School, ’Tis a bad; it may be like nature, etc., i. 324.
schools, an exercise in the, ii. 136.
School’s up, etc., viii. 278.
school-boy counts the time, The, etc., i. 2.
schoolmaster the greatest character in the world, a, x. 328.
Scotchman is not ashamed to shew his face anywhere, a, viii. 333.
Scotland, judge of England, Oh, etc., viii. 478 n.
Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, v. 139; vii. 70 and 71.
Scottish peasantry are still infected, etc., xi. 558.
Scrawls with desperate charcoal on his darken’d walls, xi. 196.
screws one’s courage, etc., xii. 140.
Sculpture can express more, Those who think, etc., vi. 139.
sculptured grace, and Promethean fire, viii. 257.
scurf o’er life, like a thick, v. 223; xii. 384.
sea, earth, and air, xi. 483.
sea-porpoise, a great, viii. 279.
seas of pearl and clouds of amber, vi. 149.
Search then the ruling passion, xii. 78.
seats firm, to keep their, x. 367.
secret, sweet, and precious, i. 372; viii. 14.
Secret Tattle, iii. 139, 148; viii. 388.
secrets of the prison-house, the, xii. 238.
Sed hæc hactenus, iii. 161; vi. 233.
Sedet, in eternumque, sedebit infelix Theseus, iv. 201; ix. 338 n.,
375.
see how dark the backward stream, And, etc., vi. 23.
See, see how firmly he doth fix his eye Upon the crucifix, v. 245.
see merit in the chaos of its elements, etc., viii. 480.
See o’er the stage the ghost of Hamlet stalks, etc., v. 355.
See o’er the stage the ghost of Munden stalks, viii. 436.
see ourselves as others see us, To, viii. 150; xii. 299.
See the chariot at hand here of love, v. 304.
see the sun to bed and to arise, to, etc., iv. 366.
See where on high stands unabash’d Defoe, x. 375.
See who ne’er was nor will be half-read, Who first sung Arthur,
then sung Alfred, etc., v. 108.
See with what a waving air she goes, ii. 331; vi. 96.
seek his merits to disclose, no further, etc., xi. 477.
seem to know that which they do not, to, vi. 216.
seen a long way off, upon a level, viii. 151.
seen of all eyes, xi. 425.
sees and is seen, ix. 260.
sees into the life of things, vi. 10.
Segnius per aures demissa, etc., viii. 222.
seizing their pleasures, etc., xi. 359.
self-applauding bird, the peacock see, the, etc., iv. 363.
self involved, not dark, vi. 44.
self-love and social, v. 131; vi. 264.
Semper Ego Auditor, iii. 153.
Semper varium et mutabile, viii. 383.
Senecio was a man of a turbid and confused wit, etc., viii. 60.
sense, And filled up all the mighty void of, i. 59 n.
sense of joy, a, etc., iv. 272.
sensible, warm motion, xii. 151.
sent us weeping to our beds, v. 359.
sentir est penser, vii. 453.
serene and smiling, x. 62.
seriously inclined, xii. 5.
sermon, A man may read a, xii. 252.
Sermo humi obrepens, vi. 246.
servetur ad imum, iii. 422; xi. 508.
servile slaves, iii. 42; xi. 260.
Servum pecus imitatorum, vi. 162; vii. 241.
Sesquipedalia verba, the, v. 105.
Set a mark of reprobation on it, i. 332.
Set but a Scotsman on a hill, etc., xi. 327; xii. 194.
set him up on one side, xii. 195.
set his bow in the heavens, He hath, etc., i. 72.
set up a pocket-handkerchief, iv. 298.
sevenfold fence, That, viii. 153.
severe in thought, Or if, etc., iii. 264.
Severn’s sedgy side, viii. 408.
Shake her starry head with palsy, ix. 218.
shall no more impart, iv. 158.
shame in crowds, His, etc., xii. 238.
shame, the blood be upon their heads, The, etc., xii. 288.
shame, the open and apparent, vii. 375; xii. 288.
She comes not like a widow, etc., v. 241.
She doth tell me where to borrow, etc., v. 84.
she hears the sound of rustic festivity, etc., x. 43.
she may sing, may go to balls, etc., viii. 311.
she moved with grace, x. 83.
She shall sooner cut an atom than part us, viii. 68.
She-Sun, Here lies a, etc., viii. 53; xii. 28.
shedding a faint shadow of uncertain light, etc., v. 193.
shedding a gaudy crimson light, ix. 348.
shepherd boy piping, as though he should never be old, v. 98; ix. 9;
xii. 261.
shivering on the brink, x. 398.
shone all glittering with ungodly dew, That, i. 59.
shone in darkness, His light, ix. 67.
shorter excursions tries, vii. 70.
Shut their blue-fringed lids, and hold them close, etc., viii. 440.
shut the gates of genius on mankind, vii. 276.
shuts the gates of wisdom on mankind, vi. 36; vii. 276.
shut up in measureless content, xii. 202.
Si Pergama dextra, etc., vi. 230.
Si prisonnier ne dit point sa raison, x. 55.
sic transit gloria mundi, xiii. 468.
sigh, still prompts the eternal, etc., viii. 110; x. 29.
sight of one was good for sore eyes, the, vii. 272.
sign of an inward and invisible grace, the, etc., xi. 439.
Signior Friscobaldo, etc., Friscobaldo, oh! pray call him, etc., v.
235.
silly shepherds sitting in a row, xi. 201 n.
silver foam which the wind severs from the parted wave, The, etc.,
v. 296.
silver nail or a gilt anno domini, etc., v. 341 n.
simple movement of her finger, vii. 304.
simplex munditiis, ix. 282.
sin that most easily besets it, the, etc., iv. 62; x. 223.
sing their bondage freely, v. 261.
sing those witty rhymes, etc., xii. 57.
singing face, a, xiii. 371.
singing the ancient ballad of Roncesvalles, v. 140; viii. 110; x. 30.
single-hearted, iii. 278, 279.
singular d’altra genti, vi. 280.
singular instance of prematurity of abilities, a, v. 123.
sinner it or saint it, to, i. 58.
sins that most easily beset him, xii. 258.
Sir, if you will lend me your cane for a moment I’ll give him a good
threshing, etc., viii. 12.
Sir John with all Europe, x. 161.
Sir Joshua might be ashamed, etc., vi. 445.
Sir Thomas Browne is among my first favourites, etc., v. 339.
sister where did you find that pin, And pray, viii. 279.
sisters every way, viii. 72.
Sithence no fairy lights, no quickening ray, etc., iv. 311; xi. 268,
428.
Sits with his eyes shut for seven days, i. 53.
Sitting in my window printing my thoughts, etc., v. 262; vii. 134.
sixty years since, iv. 250.
skin and slur over, xii. 448.
skulked behind the throne, i. 378 n.
sky-tinctured, i. 402.
sleep of death may come, in that, xii. 199.
sleepy eye of love, the, i. 177.
slendre colerike man, a, v. 24.
Slide soft, fair Forth, and make a crystal plain, etc., v. 300.
slip-slop absurdity, i. 394.
slow canal, The, etc., xii. 238.
smack, it does somewhat, viii. 81.
smack of honour, xii. 91.
smile and smile, etc., xii. 459.
smile delighted with the eternal poise, vi. 146; viii. 551.
smiled and it was cold, It, vi. 248.
smiler with the knife under his cloke, the, v. 195 n.
Smirk, Mr, you are a brisk man, i. 13; viii. 154.
smites us on one cheek, etc., vi. 396.
Smith, Mr, you’re wanted, xi. 449.
Snails! what hast got there? etc., v. 207.
Snatched a wild and fearful joy, v. 189.
snatches a grace beyond the reach of art, ii. 377; iv. 344; vi. 218; ix.
408; xi. 402.
Sneaking contempt, vi. 441.
Snow-falls in the river, the, etc., vii. 365.
snowed of meat and drink, it, i. 278; v. 24, 190.
snuff box justly vain, Of amberlidded, etc., i. 25; viii. 134; ix. 76; xi.
498.

Snug’s the word, xi. 413.

So am not I, xii. 152.
so carelessly did we fleet the time, xii. 2.
so divinely wrought, etc., x. 257.
So fails, so languishes, and dies away, etc., viii. 303.
So from the ground she fearless doth arise, etc., v. 11.
So shalt thou find me ever at thy side, Here and hereafter, if the
best may be, ii. 301; vi. 287.
So, sir! They tells me, Sir, that you and my foolish husband, etc., ii.
118.
So that the third day after, etc., v. 321.
So was it when my life began, etc., iii. 192; xi. 500.
so well policied, x. 311.
sober certainty, of waking bliss, the, vi. 173.
Society became their glittering bride, etc., iii. 160; vii. 279.
soft collar of social esteem, the, xi. 48; xii. 215.
soft myrtle, the, xi. 508.
Soft peace enrich this room, etc., v. 270 n.
soft precision of the clear Vandyke, The, ix. 387, 473.
softly sweet in Lydian measures, viii. 461.
Soldier tired, viii. 320.
soldiers’ bare dead bodies lay; And as the, etc., xi. 421.
Sole sitting by the shores of old romance, xi. 212.
solemne man, a full, iii. 311; xi. 413.
solid pretensions of virtue and understanding, etc., xi. 273 n.
solid pudding, or for empty praise, viii. 477.
solitariness, an accompaniable, etc., v. 323.
solitude and melancholy musing born, of, viii. 37.
Some are called at age at fourteen, etc., v. 342.
Some ask’d me where the rubies grew, etc., v. 312.
Some by old words to fame have made pretence, etc., v. 74.
Some demon whisper’d, Visto, have a taste, vi. 94, 403.
Some hamlet shade to yield his sickly form, etc., v. 149.
some happier island in the watery waste, etc., iii. 20.
some high festival of once a year, iii. 172; vii. 75.
Some minds are proportioned, etc., vii. 262.
some trick not worth an egg, xii. 90.
something—as having divine in it, x. 326.
something in the idea of perfection exceeding satisfactory, there is,
xi. 354.
something more divine in it, viii. 106; x. 26.
somewhat fat and pursy, xii. 262.
somewhat musty, xii. 1, 168.
Sompnoure was ther with us in that place, A, etc., v. 24.
Son to tread in the Sire’s steady steps, the, iii. 298.
Sons and Daughters of Corruption, the, iv. 335; vi. 51.
song you sing, And when your, etc., viii. 372.
song from Mr Speaker, A, xii. 450.
song of the kettle, the, xi. 503.
songs of delight and rustical roundelays, iii. 278; xi. 310.
sorcery was wrought on me, And yet some, etc., viii. 306.
sorry if what has been said, I should be, etc., vi. 135.
soul as fair, a, vii. 202.
soul is fair, But his, etc., vii. 370.
soul of pleasure and that life of whim, that, xi. 356.
soul proud science, His, etc., xii. 299.
soul supreme, in each hard instance tried, A, ii. 370; x. 375.
soul turn from them, My, iii. 166; viii. 411.
Soul-killing lies, and truths that work small good, iii. 259; viii. 20.
sots, and knaves, and cowards, xi. 511.
sound book-learnedness, x. 145.
sound itself had made, from the, xi. 398.
sound significant, xii. 96.
sounding always the increase of his winning, etc., v. 13.