Читать книгу The Bachelor's Little Bonus - Gina Wilkins - Страница 8
ОглавлениеReturning home from a mundane business trip, Cole McKellar stepped out of a dreary February evening and into a scene from one of his increasingly recurrent fantasies: A pretty blonde asleep on his oversized brown leather sofa.
The sight aroused and disturbed him—the same reaction he usually had to those unbidden daydreams. He squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them the blonde in question was still there. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be having these feelings about Stevie, especially when she viewed him merely as a neighbor and a friend. And yet...
Illuminated by the lamp on the table nearest her head, she lay on her left side, her hand beneath her cheek, her jeans-covered legs drawn up in front of her. Her shoes were on the floor, leaving her feet exposed in bright red socks that matched her sweater. Golden curls tumbled around her sleep-flushed face, and her soft, full lips were slightly parted. Long lashes lay against her fair cheeks, hiding eyes he knew to be a vivid blue. Notably colorful and feminine in contrast to his muted bachelor decor, she looked young and vulnerable lying there, though he knew Stevie McLane to be a capable and accomplished thirty-one year old, only two years his junior.
Dusty, his little gray tabby, snuggled into the crook of Stevie’s arm. In response to Cole’s arrival, the cat lifted her head and gave him a look as though warning him not to disturb their sleeping guest. He frowned and studied Stevie more closely. Was there a trace of tears on her face? Had she been crying?
Gripping his overnight bag tightly in one hand, his computer case in the other, he shifted his weight uncomfortably, unsure what to do. Should he wake her? Should he let her sleep? He couldn’t just stand here watching her. It was sort of...creepy.
Dusty stood and stretched. Roused by the movement, Stevie blinked her eyes open. Finding Cole standing there, she gasped.
The last thing he’d wanted to do was frighten her. “I’m sorry, Stevie, I—”
“Cole! I didn’t—”
Both stopped talking to let the other speak, then hurried again to fill the awkward silence.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I thought you—”
Cole held up a hand with a rueful smile when their words overlapped again. “I’ll start. I’m sorry I startled you. I didn’t know you were here. Now your turn.”
On her feet now, his next-door neighbor pushed back her tumbled hair with both hands and smiled up at him. Though just over average height himself, he still felt as though he towered over Stevie, who topped out at about five-two in her red-stockinged feet. “I thought you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow,” she said.
“I rescheduled my flight because of the weather. I didn’t want to get stuck in Dallas for an extra day or two, especially since I have to be in Chicago a few days next week.”
“And now you must be tired.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, you weren’t expecting to find uninvited company in your house.”
She had no idea just what a welcome surprise that had been, nor would he fully enlighten her. When it came to Stevie, he’d gotten pretty good at concealing his feelings during the past year. “Usually when I come home, the house is empty except for Dusty, and she likes to play it cool with her royal greetings. It’s a pleasant change to be welcomed with a smile.”
He’d answered lightly while studying her suspiciously puffy eyelids. Would it be intrusive to mention his impression that she’d been crying? He settled for what he hoped was a vaguely concerned tone. “Is everything okay?”
She wiped nonchalantly at her cheeks, as if smoothing away the effects of sleep rather than any hint of tears. “Oh, sure. It was just too quiet at my house tonight, so Dusty and I were keeping each other company. I guess I fell asleep.”
His cat had climbed on the arm of the couch and now demanded a greeting from him. Cole reached down to rub the tabby’s soft, pointed ears. “Did you give Stevie your sad-eyes act to keep her from leaving after she fed you? I bet you added a few of those pitiful meows you’ve perfected.”
Stevie wrinkled her nose with a little laugh. “I’m pretty sure she even threw in a couple of forlorn sniffles.”
He ran a hand absently down Dusty’s back, stopping to scratch at the base of the tail, a spot that always made his pet arch blissfully. “She’s shameless.”
“Yes, she is,” Stevie agreed, giving the tabby a fond smile.
Cole claimed occasionally that he’d bought the cat with the house. He’d lived here only a couple weeks when a pathetic kitten had appeared on his doorstep out of a winter rainstorm, wet and hungry and miserable. Hearing the meows, he’d opened the door to investigate and the little stray had darted past him into the living room. Other than visits to the vet, she hadn’t been outside since.
He’d planned initially to find a good home for the stray, but somehow she’d ended up staying. He and Dusty, who was named for her habit of emerging from under furniture with dust bunnies on her nose, got along like a couple of contented hermits. Still, it was always a treat for them when Stevie dropped by. Sometimes he thought they were both a little too eager for her visits.
Weren’t cats and computer analysts supposed to be contentedly independent and naturally aloof? He’d wondered more than once what sort of special magic Stevie wielded to enchant them so thoroughly, though he hoped he was a bit more discreet about his fascination with her than his pet. He treasured his unconventional friendship with Stevie too much to risk it with the awkwardness of an unrequited infatuation.
A data analyst for a national medical group, Cole worked primarily from home. He made a few business trips a year for planning and progress meetings, but mostly he communicated with the outside world via computer and smartphone.
His late wife had teasingly accused him of taking introversion to the extreme. But it wasn’t that he disliked people. He was just more comfortable with computers, especially since Natasha’s difficult illness.
It was suddenly very quiet in the room. Pushing thoughts of the painful past from his mind, he cleared his throat and glanced toward the window. “Sounds like the sleet has stopped. Maybe it’s finally changing over to snow. I’d rather have snow than ice.”
Stevie nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm for the banal comments. “No kidding. At least this weather hit on a Friday so most people don’t have to get out for work or school tomorrow. Not that local schools would be open, anyway. You know they close at the first sign of a snowflake. But still, I hope we get enough snow for the kids to build snowmen and have snowball fights. That’s not something they get to do very often around here, so they’ll want to make the most of it. I remember how disappointed I always was when we got all psyched up for snow and had to settle for just a dusting. Still, I hope it’s gone by Monday. I have a couple of meetings I’d really hate to have to put off.”
He chuckled, accustomed to her characteristic, stream-of-consciousness prattling. “Let’s hope there’s enough snow for the kids to enjoy over the weekend but that it melts quickly enough not to cause too many issues for the coming week.”
“That would work.” She smiled, but he had the distinct feeling something was wrong. For one thing, she was twisting a curl tightly around her fingertip, a nervous habit he’d noticed several times during the past few months.
Stevie was one of the most naturally effervescent women he’d ever known, outgoing and optimistic and a little quirky. She’d grown up in the comfortable bungalow on the corner lot next door in Little Rock, Arkansas. She’d been the first to welcome him to the street when he’d bought this house in the midtown neighborhood that was currently undergoing a revival after a decade-long slump. He’d made a tidy profit on the condo he’d sold last year, and he thought he’d do the same with this place if his needs changed again. Even better than that, he’d gained Stevie as a neighbor.
He wondered if it was only the bad weather that had left her free on a Friday night to keep his cat company and doze on his couch. As far as he knew, she hadn’t dated anyone since a breakup some three months ago. When they’d first met, he’d had designs on her, and maybe he’d even had a few fantasies about her since, but he’d never acted on any of them. She’d been involved with the hipster musician, which had made her off-limits. Not that he had a chance with her anyway.
Inherently candid, Stevie had once confessed to him during a rambling conversation that she had a lamentable weakness for footloose artists and musicians, a penchant that had left her soft heart bruised more than once. He’d gotten the message, whether intentional or not on her part. Reclusive computer geeks were not her type romantically, though she seemed pleased to have one among her many pals.
Since she’d split with Joe, she’d been slightly more subdued than usual, but tonight she seemed even more dispirited. Had she been crying because she was lonely? Or—he swallowed hard, very much disliking the other possibility—because she missed the guy who’d caused her so much grief before he’d left town to start a new single life in Texas?
He tried to think of something more to say, but small talk wasn’t his forte. Stevie usually carried their conversations, chattering away while he enjoyed listening and responding when prompted. Yet she never seemed bored by him, another trait that made her so special. Stevie would never yawn and check her watch during dinner with him.
He winced as he remembered the recent blind date he’d been stupid enough to consent to after being nagged by a friend’s wife. He’d been just as disinterested during the evening, but he’d at least had the courtesy to not be so obvious about it. When he wanted to spend time with a woman, he had a few numbers he could call, a couple of women friends who wanted nothing more from him than a few hours of mutual pleasure. He didn’t make those calls often—and even less so during the past couple of months, for some reason.
He didn’t know why his mind had drifted in that direction at the moment, though the thought of dinner gave him inspiration. “Have you eaten?” he asked Stevie. “I’ve been on a plane all afternoon and I’m hungry.”
She hesitated, then smiled a bit more naturally. “No, actually, I haven’t had dinner. I might have even skipped lunch. I don’t remember.”
The admission made him even more convinced that something was troubling her, but he figured she’d tell him when and if she was ready. Maybe over a hot meal.
“I froze portions of that big pot of soup you made for me last week. It’ll take just a few minutes to thaw and heat a couple bowlfuls.”
She smoothed her tousled hair with one hand and nodded. “Sounds good. Just let me wash up and I’ll help you.”
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Hastily stashing his bags to unpack later, he busied himself preparing the impromptu meal. Had he found the empty house he’d expected when he’d returned, he’d have nuked the soup and eaten in front of the TV with a beer straight from the can. But since he had company, he made more effort, setting the table with placemats and flatware, making sure the bowls weren’t scratched or chipped.
For the most part, he’d learned to be content with his quiet life, so why was he so pleased by the prospect of sharing a simple bowl of soup with Stevie on a bleak, winter evening?
* * *
After splashing water on her face in Cole’s guest bathroom, Stevie pressed a hand to her still-flat stomach, drew a deep breath and assured herself she looked reasonably presentable considering she’d just been startled out of a sound sleep. She seemed to be sleepy a lot these days. She hadn’t even heard Cole enter the house.
The thought of him standing there watching her sleep made her pulse flutter. She supposed it was embarrassment at being caught off guard in his living room. He didn’t seem to mind that she’d made herself at home while he was away, but then, she wouldn’t have expected anything different from laid-back Cole.
In the year she’d known him, she’d never seen him rattled. She’d rarely observed any display of strong emotions from him, actually. He was the steadiest, most sensible person she knew, a calming presence in her sometimes hectic life. Maybe that was why she’d instinctively taken refuge in his living room when she’d been sad and stressed, though her cat-sitting duties had made a convenient excuse.
She scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. Had Cole seen the tear stains on her cheeks? She thought maybe he had and felt the heat of embarrassment. Though she wasn’t usually shy about expressing her emotions—even tended to overshare at times—Stephanie “Stevie” McLane liked to think of herself as resilient, feisty and courageous. Not the type to hide in a friend’s house and sniffle into his cat’s soft fur. Still, Cole had merely searched her face with his dark, perceptive eyes, calmly asked if everything was okay, then offered her a hot meal. Somehow he’d seemed to know it was exactly what she’d needed, and not just because she was hungry.
He glanced up with a smile when she joined him in the kitchen. His thick, wavy dark hair was a bit messy, but then it always was. A hint of evening stubble shadowed his firm jaw. His eyes were the color of rich, dark chocolate. She’d always thought those beautiful eyes gleamed with both kindness and intelligence. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, he was not what she would call classically handsome, nor did he have that somewhat ethereal artist quality she’d always been drawn to in the past. He didn’t talk a lot, and he wasn’t prone to sharing his feelings. Still, there was something about Cole that automatically evoked trust and confidence.
She’d liked him from the day he’d moved into this house. There’d been a definite tug of feminine interest, but within her first hour of chatting with him—okay, interrogating him, as he’d humorously referred to that initial conversation—she’d found out he was a computer whiz, a widower and a country music fan who usually listened to news radio in his car. He was practically her total opposite, a stalwart Taurus to her capricious Gemini.
She’d tried to convince herself since then that her latent fascination with him was due more to those intriguing differences than to an underlying attraction she couldn’t entirely deny. Despite being involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with a commitment-phobic musician for most of the time she’d known Cole, she’d have to have been brainless not to notice what a great guy he was. So different from her other male acquaintances, he was an enigma to her in many ways, but still they’d become friends. Maybe they could have become more than friends, had circumstances developed differently. She always enjoyed hanging out with him, and she missed him when he was away.
She had missed his steady, solid presence even more than usual during the past few days.
With old-fashioned courtesy, he held her chair for her as she took her seat at the table. “I don’t have much to offer by way of a beverage,” he said apologetically. “I can make coffee or there’s beer or I can open a bottle of wine...”
“This is fine, thank you,” she said, motioning toward the water glass he’d already filled and set beside her steaming bowl.
To quickly distract herself from her problems, she picked up her spoon and asked, “How was your trip?”
Seated now across the table from her, he grimaced. “Let’s just say it’s a miracle I’m not spending tonight in jail rather than having a nice bowl of soup with you.”
She smiled. “Annoying associates?”
“To quote my late country grandpa, a couple of them were as dumb as a bag of rocks.”
That made her laugh. She always loved it when Cole quoted his “country grandpa,” who had apparently been a treasury of old adages. “Knowing you, I’m sure you were completely polite and patient with them.”
“I don’t know how patient I was, but I tried not to tell them what I really thought. They didn’t even try to pay attention half the time, then complained because they missed a few important points. It gets frustrating. Which is one of the main reasons I prefer telecommuting to pointless meetings and endless deliberations.”
As a busy kitchen designer, Stevie knew all about frustrating collaborations. “Totally understand. There are plenty of times I want to dump a pitcher of ice water over a superpicky client or a lazy subcontractor.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure you’re able to sweet-talk all of them into seeing things your way. That’s a talent I don’t have.”
She had to concede that no one would describe Cole as a “sweet talker.” Or a talker at all, for that matter. Still, when he did speak, he always had something interesting and thoughtful to contribute. She’d consulted him several times about perplexing business issues, and had valued his measured, practical advice.
Biting her lip, she wondered what he would say if she confided her current, very personal predicament. She clenched her fingers in her lap.
Cole cleared his throat. She glanced up to find him studying her face with those too-knowing eyes. “Your food is getting cold,” he said quietly.
Had he sensed somehow that she’d hovered on the verge of another meltdown? Either way, his reminder had been just what she’d needed to bring her back from the edge. Gripping her spoon so tightly her knuckles whitened, she concentrated on the soup and the cheese and crackers he’d served with it. In an attempt to keep him—and maybe herself—diverted, she talked as she ate, babbling away about anything that randomly occurred to her.
Seeming to have little trouble following her rapid changes of topic, Cole finished his meal then pulled a bag of cookies from the pantry for dessert. She declined the offer, finishing her rapidly cooling soup between sentences while he munched a couple of Oreos.
When he finished, he carried his dishes to the sink, sidestepping the cat munching kibble from a bowl on the floor. Stevie helped him clear the table, smiling up at him as they reached at the same time to close the dishwasher door.
“Thank you, Cole.”
“For the soup? Wasn’t any trouble, I just warmed it up. You actually made it.”
She gave him a fondly chiding look. “Not for the soup, though I guess I needed that. Mostly, thanks for the company and conversation. I needed that even more tonight.”
Wiping his hands, he turned to face her with a slight smile on his firm lips. “I didn’t say much.”
“I didn’t give you much chance.”
“Well, no, but I’m used to that.”
She giggled, pleased to feel like laughing now, even at her own expense. She reached up to pat his cheek. “Are you calling me a chatterbox?”
“Just stating facts.” His rare, full grin lit his eyes and carved long dimples around his mouth. Tousled and scruffy after his long day, he looked...well, adorable. His evening beard tickled her palm, and the warmth of his skin tempted her to nestle closer to his solid strength to alleviate her own nervous chill.
A bit unnerved by the impulse, she dropped her hand quickly and laced her fingers together. This was not the time to be distracted by the physical attraction that had always underscored her friendship with Cole, an attraction she’d always assured herself she had very good reasons to keep private.
“You’ve been traveling all day,” she said, rallying her inner defenses and taking a step back. “I’m sure you’re tired. I should go and let you relax.”
“There’s no rush. We could stream a movie or something. I think I have some popcorn.”
Her smile felt a little tremulous. He was being so sweetly concerned about her, even though he hadn’t a clue what was troubling her. He’d probably looked forward to crashing on his couch or bed when he’d returned from his business trip. Instead, he’d found himself preparing dinner for a surprise guest and offering to entertain her even longer in case she was still reluctant to return to her own empty house. Was it any wonder she considered him one of her dearest friends?
“Thanks, Cole, but I think I’ll just turn in early.”
He frowned. “What if your power goes out tonight? With the layer of ice underneath this snow, it’s a definite possibility.”
“I have plenty of blankets to snuggle under, a couple of good flashlights, and a gas stovetop for heating water for tea.”
“Your phone is charged?”
“Almost completely. And I’ll plug it in as soon as I get home.”
He nodded, though he didn’t look entirely reassured.
She slid her hands down her sides in a nervous gesture. “So...”
Just as Cole wasn’t much of a “talker,” he wasn’t much of a “toucher,” either. Casual hugs and pats didn’t come naturally to him, the way they did for her. He never seemed to mind being on the receiving end, though he’d once teased her about patting his cat goodnight, then doing the same to him as she’d prepared to leave.
So, it surprised her a little when he rested a hand on her shoulder as he gazed somberly into her eyes. “You know, Stevie, I’m not much of a conversationalist, but you’ve told me more than once that I’m a very good listener. And I’m your friend. If there’s anything at all I can do for you, I hope you’d feel comfortable telling me.”
Though she tried to hold on to her composure, all it took was a slight squeeze of his fingers to make her eyes fill with tears. To her consternation, sobs burst from her chest as an overtaxed emotional dam finally gave way, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop them.
After only a heartbeat’s hesitation, Cole stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. He patted her back somewhat awkwardly, a bewildered male response that only made her cry harder.
“Stevie, tell me. What’s wrong?”
“I’m—” She choked, then blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
* * *
Cole’s hand froze in midpat. Of all the answers he had imagined, that was the lowest on his list.
Her voice muffled by his shoulder, she spoke in a flood of jumbled words interspersed with gulping sobs. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friends. This has been building up for weeks, ever since I first suspected I was pregnant, but I didn’t want to even think about it. I tried to believe it was just stress or miscalculation, but it’s real, and now I’m almost three months along. Joe moved to Austin and I’m pretty sure he has another girlfriend there already. He said he doesn’t want a kid and he’d be a terrible father, anyway. I’m not even brokenhearted about the breakup because it wasn’t working out and neither of us was really happy. Still, my brother and I grew up without our fathers and I always said I’d never do that to a child and I can’t believe I was so stupid at my age. I’ll do my best to give my baby a happy childhood. I mean, I turned out okay, right? But the weather was terrible tonight and I was home all alone and I just wanted company, even if it was only your cat,” she finished in a soft wail.
He followed the tangled monologue, but just barely. It was a lot of information to digest in a very short amount of time. Fortunately, interpreting massive amounts of data was what he did every day. Stevie was three months pregnant. Joe was out of the picture. Stevie planned to raise the child alone. And she was obviously scared spitless.
Because a calm tone usually trumped overwrought emotion, he asked, “Have you seen a doctor?”
She nodded into his shoulder. “Twice.”
“Are you okay? Healthy?”
Her sniffles slowed and she bobbed her head again. “Both of us are.”
Both. He swallowed at the reminder that he wasn’t holding just Stevie. He couldn’t think of anything reassuring to say, so he fell back on practicality. Reaching around her, he snagged a paper towel from the counter and offered it to her. “I don’t have a clean handkerchief on me, but maybe you could make use of this?”
His prosaic offer seemed to jolt her out of her meltdown. She made what appeared to be a heroic attempt to get her emotions under control. When she raised her head slowly to look at him, her wet, vivid blue eyes looked huge against her pale skin. She clutched his shirt in both fists as though anchoring herself in a whirlwind. Drawing a deep, unsteady breath, she relaxed her grip, carefully smoothed his crumpled shirt and stepped out of his arms. He hovered close. She still looked fragile enough to collapse at his feet.
“I, um—” It seemed to annoy her that her words were interrupted by a little catch of her breath. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry I fell apart on you. The words just started flooding out and I couldn’t stop them.”
“You needed to unload,” he said simply.
“I guess you’re right,” she said after a few moments. “Like I said, I haven’t told anyone except Joe and my doctor. I just... I didn’t know what to say.”
“Keeping it to yourself for so long had to have been hard for you.” It must have been especially difficult for naturally forthcoming Stevie.
Wiping her cheeks with the paper towel, she nodded. “Especially with Jenny and Tess. They’re my best friends and we tell each other everything. Or we always have until now. But Tess is busy planning her wedding and Jenny and Gavin have been trying to get pregnant ever since they got married. How can I tell her that I accidentally got knocked up by a guy she never really liked all that much, anyway?”
He filled a glass with water and handed it to her without comment. She accepted it with a nod of thanks and took a few sips. He was relieved to note that the color was returning to her face, that her hand was steadier when she set the glass on the counter.
She drew a deep, unsteady breath before speaking again. “It was after Christmas when I first suspected I was pregnant, but another couple of weeks before I let myself believe it.”
“Had to have been a shock to you.” It had certainly stunned him.
“To say the least. I felt obligated to call Joe, but he made it clear he won’t be involved, so I’m on my own, which is fine with me since I’m not interested in seeing him again. I mean, yeah, it was irresponsible of me, but I’m thirty-one, you know? I’ll be thirty-two in May. I’ve always thought I’d have a baby someday, and this could be my best chance. I’ve completely sworn off stupid fairy-tale fantasies for the future. It’s taken me way too long and too many heartaches to figure out that I have not a shred of good judgment when it comes to romance. I’ve always been drawn to the guys who are the least likely to settle down, and I’ve always ended up on the losing end. No more. I’ll figure out a way to raise this child on my own. Sure, it’ll be tough making my schedule work out for the next few months and budgeting my savings to tide us over during the time I’ll have to take off for maternity leave. I mean, my business is still pretty new and this is like the worst time to try to juggle contracts and finances and time off, but somehow I’ll—”
“More water?” He motioned toward the glass as her nervous babbling threatened to lead to tears again. It was obvious she was on to him.
Drawing in another long breath, she smiled a bit wryly as she shook her head. Dusty wound around her ankles and she reached down to give the cat an absent stroke before straightening to speak more calmly again. “So, here I am. Single and pregnant, just like my mother was twice in two years with my brother and then me. I haven’t been sick a day and my doctor says I’m very healthy and so is the baby. I guess hormones just got the best of me tonight. I’ll be fine, really.”
“I have no doubt of it,” he said. “You’ll be a good mother.”
She moistened her lips. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely.” She should know by now that he didn’t say things he didn’t mean.
Her smile was sweetly tremulous. “Thank you, Cole. For the dinner, for letting me cry all over you, for being such a good friend. And now I really am going to leave so you can rest.”
A good friend. He could be that for her.
He wasn’t entirely sure she should be alone in her agitated mood, but he figured she would decline if he tried again to detain her. So he merely nodded and said, “I’ll walk you home.”
Tossing the crumpled paper towel into the trash, she glanced over her shoulder with a lifted eyebrow. “Since when do you need to walk me next door?”
“Since there’s ice all over the walkway and you’re pregnant,” he replied bluntly. “I want to make sure you don’t fall.”
“It’s not necessary, but I can see you’re going to insist.” Her smile looked a bit more natural now, though still not the high-wattage grin he associated with her.
With a faint smile in return, he nodded. “You’re right. I am.”
Minutes later, bundled into their coats, they walked out into what amounted to an Arkansas blizzard. Snow fell so hard he could hardly see Stevie’s white house on the big corner lot next door. The ground was already covered and no cars drove down the street, most of the locals having taken the advice of forecasters and burrowed safely into their homes for the night.
It wouldn’t stay this peaceful, of course. He’d bet the generally well-behaved but exuberant Bristol kids across the street would be out playing in the snow as soon as their mom gave them permission. Snow days were always a rare treat around here, even though they proved a headache for road crews and first responders.
He kept his gaze trained on Stevie as they stepped off his porch. Her disposition changed the moment they moved out into the winter storm. She couldn’t seem to resist turning her face up to let the snow fall against her cheeks. The security lamps above them provided just enough light for Cole to see the white flakes glittering on her skin and in her golden curls. With her signature musical laugh, she held out her arms and turned in a little circle, her shoes crunching on the thin layer of ice beneath the accumulating snow. Bemused by her mercurial mood shifts, and well aware they had more to do with her unique personality than to fluctuating hormones, he chuckled and caught her arm to make sure she didn’t fall.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked with a sigh, wrapping her hands around his arm and smiling companionably up at him.
“Very.”
Her lashes fluttered, though he wasn’t sure whether that was due to the snow or his husky tone. He cleared his throat. He must be more tired than he’d realized, or more shaken than he’d have expected by Stevie’s bombshell. Whatever the reason, he found himself wanting to prolong this cozy walk in the snowy night with Stevie tucked close to his side, breath clouds mingling and drifting in the air in front of them. For the second time in just over an hour, he felt almost as if he’d stepped into one of his private fantasies. He was glad mind reading wasn’t among Stevie McLane’s many talents. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to knowing that just watching her catching a snowflake on her tongue sent his imagination down a path much more hazardous than the one on which they walked.
Burying those uncomfortable thoughts deep inside his mind, he made an effort to keep his expression blandly friendly until they were on her small porch. She unlocked the front door she’d painted bright blue to match the shutters. One hand on the knob, she smiled up at him. “Okay, I’m safely home. You can relax.”
He searched her face in the soft glow of her porch light. “You’re sure you’re okay? If you need anything else this evening, even if just to talk more, I’m available.”
In a gesture that was both impulsive and entirely characteristic, she wrapped her arms around his waist for a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a very nice man, Cole McKellar.”
A very nice man. As flattering as her comments were, they were hardly the words she’d have whispered in one of those steamy daydreams. Giving himself a mental slap, he returned his friend’s hug with a brief squeeze before stepping back. “Good night, Stevie. Call if you need me.”
She opened her door. “Good night, Cole.”
He stepped down from the little porch into the falling snow, which was already hiding the footprints they’d left on the way. He’d taken only a step when something made him turn back around. “Stevie?”
She paused in the act of closing the door. “Yes?”
“You aren’t alone.”
With that blurted promise, he turned and headed home, his head down, his fists shoved into the pockets of his coat. He’d taken quite a few steps by the time he heard Stevie close her door.
