Читать книгу A Little Bit of Holiday Magic - Melissa McClone, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 10
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
FIVE MINUTES LATER, Bill took the phone from Grace, who held on to his pajamas with her other hand. The lines creasing her forehead had disappeared, but the wariness in her eyes remained. He hoped that look wasn’t due to something the sheriff had said. “All good now?”
“The sheriff said Liam and I would be safe with you.” Her voice sounded stronger, but her words had a nervous edge. She rubbed her fingertips against the pajamas. “He’s going to take care of my truck.”
“Truck,” Liam repeated. “I like trucks. Big ones.”
“Me, too.” The kid was cute. So was the mom. If she would quit acting as if Bill was a murderer. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. At least her toes weren’t frostbitten. “Something’s still bothering you.”
Her hands stopped fidgeting with the pajamas. “You’re perceptive.”
“Sometimes.” Bill wasn’t about to play games with Grace after what she’d been through. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She looked at Liam, looked at his EMT and wilderness first aid books on the shelf, a snowboard, an old fire helmet, looked at everything in the living room except Bill.
He took a step closer. “Something’s got you wigged out.”
Grace rubbed her lips together. “The sheriff thinks you should, um, check me. See if we...I...need to go to the hospital.”
That would do it. “Good idea.”
“No. I don’t. Need to go, that is.” Her gaze still avoided his. “I’m a little sore. Nothing else.”
Liam played with Peanut, seemingly oblivious to everything else.
“Most people are sore after an accident.” Bill didn’t know if she was afraid of going to the hospital or of him. He’d guess the latter, but wished she’d look at him so he could try to see if something else was going on with her. “The rush of adrenaline can mask injuries. You should be examined.”
Grace nodded, but looked as if she’d rather face a dentist and gynecologist at the same time than be checked by him. She ran her teeth over her lower lip.
“I promise I don’t bite,” he teased.
She blushed. Her bright red cheeks made her look like a teenager.
He motioned to a chair. “Do you want to sit?”
“I’d rather stand.”
Figures. When Bill was on a call or out in the field on a rescue mission, he tried to keep the patient at ease. Joking around with Grace wasn’t working. He’d try talking to her. “Where do you live in Georgia?”
“Columbus.”
“You don’t sound Southern.”
“I grew up in the Midwest. Iowa.”
“Cornfields and the Iowa Hawkeyes.”
Her amber eyes twinkled. “And country fairs.”
“Let me guess. You were the Corn Queen.”
Her grin brightened her face. Not only pretty, unexpectedly beautiful.
Air stuck in his throat. He struggled to breathe.
She struck a royal pose, lifting her chin and shifting her shoulders back. “Corn Princess.”
Bill had no idea why he’d reacted to her. Must be tired. “Sash and tiara?”
“Corn-on-the-cob scepter, too.”
“Real Iowan corn?”
“Only the finest.” She gave Liam a royal wave. “I was the envy of the corn court until an unfortunate incident with one of the 4-H goats.”
“Poor goat.”
“Poor corn.” She made an exaggerated sad face. “After the goat encounter, I was a princess without a scepter.”
Okay, this was more like it. Smiling and joking and raising Bill’s temperature ten degrees. “So what brings her highness out of the land of sweet tea and juicy peaches across the Mississippi River and over the Rockies to the verdant Pacific Northwest?”
She stared at Liam. Her eyes softened. “Astoria.”
“Ah. Nice little coastal town, if you don’t mind being at sea level.” Bill preferred living in the mountains. “Do you have family there?”
“No, but I thought why not try something different.”
Her voice sounded shaky. Nerves?
Or something more? “That’s a big move.”
She shrugged, but tight lines formed around her mouth. “I’ve moved a lot.”
“I’ve moved twice, not counting my stint at the fire academy. Once from my parents’ house to an apartment, then into this house.” Bill stood next to Grace. The top of her head came to the tip of his nose. “Show me where you’re sore.”
She pointed to her left shoulder, where the seat belt would have hit.
He touched the spot. “Does this hurt?”
“Slightly tender.” She glanced at his hand on her, then looked away. “I can’t remember all the moves we’ve made. My husband was in the army.”
Was. Past tense. She hadn’t said ex-husband, but she wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Bill knew some folks didn’t wear rings. Others lost them. Or pawned them. “Is your husband waiting for you in Astoria?”
She bent down and stroked Liam’s hair. “He’s...dead.”
Her words cut Bill at the knees. He opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She was so young with a kid.
Just like Hannah, Nick’s wife.
A million memories rushed back, memories Bill had hoped to forget. The smell of death when his rescue team had found the bodies of Nick and Iain, still roped together. The sound of grief when he’d spent days at Nick’s house, trying to comfort the Bishop family. The taste of regret when Bill had realized nothing he did or said would make things better for Hannah and her two young kids.
He had felt so useless back then. He forced himself to breathe now. At least he could do something for Grace. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” The words came automatically, as if programmed in and spoken without thinking.
Her gaze, full of affection, remained on Liam, who kept himself entertained with the toy elephant.
Bill thought he could reach out and touch the love she was sending her son. A small knot formed in his chest. Ached behind his ribs. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like how he wanted to hold Grace until she looked at him the same way.
Not that she would. He had a habit of failing the women in his life. Just like his dad.
“Columbus, Georgia.” Bill forced the words from his dry throat. “Is that where your husband was stationed?”
“Yes. Fort Benning. Damon was a Ranger. He was killed in action in Afghanistan two and a half years ago.”
Damn. That sucked. “A real hero.”
“Yes. Highly decorated. He loved what he did.”
Grace’s affection for her late husband filled her voice. Love never played into Bill’s relationships. He much preferred the other L word. Lust. Love was too messy, too complicated. It was capable of causing pain and grief, like Grace must have endured with her husband’s death. “Our service members have paid a high price in the Middle East, but your husband leaves behind a legacy of memories, and Liam.”
Her gaze went from her son to Bill. “Is there, um, anything else you need to check?”
He looked at his hand on her shoulder. Damn. Still touching her. He lowered his arm. “Any headache or sore neck now?”
“No.”
If her headrest wasn’t set properly she could have whiplash. He rubbed his hands together so they wouldn’t be cold against her skin, and stepped behind her. “I’m going to move your hair to check your neck.”
“That’s fine.” Her tight tone made him think otherwise.
Bill pushed her long wet hair over to one side. His fingertips brushed her neck.
She inhaled sharply. Tensed.
“Sorry.” He liked the feel of her soft skin. If only she wasn’t so cold. But he knew ways to warm her up. Lots of ways.
Stop. Right there.
Bill might have the reputation of being a player, but he didn’t play with patients. He touched her neck again. “Does this area hurt?”
Her back stiffened. “Not really.”
He wasn’t buying it. “You feel something.”
“Nothing major.” She sounded nonchalant, as if she had a splinter in her finger, nothing more. “A dull ache.”
He moved his hand lower. “What about here?”
“Very dull. Almost nothing.”
He moved in front of her. “Show me where the seat belt hit you.”
Grace pointed to her left shoulder, then diagonally across her chest and over her hips.
“Does your abdomen or lower back hurt?”
“No.”
“Hips?”
“All good.”
“We can hold off a trip to the hospital tonight. Depending on how you feel tomorrow, you might want to see a doctor.”
“Okay.”
“Time for you to get out of those wet clothes. You can change in the bathroom. First door on the right.” Bill motioned to Liam. “The little dude and I will make cocoa.”
Liam clapped the elephant’s paws together. “Cocoa. Cocoa.”
Bill offered her the phone. “Take this with you. You can call whoever you need to, and let them know what’s happened.”
Sadness filled her gaze. “Thanks, but there’s no one to call.”
With that, Grace walked down the hall. Denim clung to her hips, showing off her curves and the sway of her hips.
Nice butt.
Hot.
Whoa.
Not going to happen. Not with a mom. Definitely not with a widow.
He liked rescuing damsels in distress, but only long enough to see them back on their feet and be rewarded for his efforts. He might help moms, but he didn’t date them. Ever.
Mothers with children equaled commitment.
He’d rather hang in base camp, drinking and playing cards, than attempt that summit. Married friends might be happy, but they had provided enough beta on the climb. Marriage took commitment and hard work. An instant family wasn’t on Bill’s list of peaks to bag.
Hot or not, Grace and her son were his houseguests, period.
The bathroom door closed.
Liam sidled up next to Bill, pressing against his leg.
He glanced down. “Guess it’s you and me, kid.”
Liam held up his elephant.
“And Peanut.” The expectant look in the little boy’s eyes reminded Bill of the schoolkids who toured the station on field trips. Sitting behind the steering wheel wasn’t enough. Sirens needed to blare and lights flash. And helmets. The kids all had to wear the helmet. “I bet you want another cookie.”
“Please. Cocoa, too.”
Kids were the same whether they came from Hood Hamlet, Oregon, or Columbus, Georgia. “Marshmallows or whipped cream?”
“Both.”
A small hand clasped Bill’s larger one. Squeezed.
Warmth shot up his arm. Boy, that felt good. And not because Liam’s tiny fingers weren’t so cold any longer.
Inquisitive eyes full of adoration gazed up at Bill, making him feel like a superhero.
Something tugged inside his chest. Something he’d never experienced before. Something he didn’t understand. He shook off the unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling.
Must be all the excitement around here.
This wasn’t the evening he’d expected to spend. A cute kid wanting to make hot chocolate with him in the kitchen. A pretty mom changing into his pajamas in the bathroom. But Bill was not unhappy the way tonight was turning out.
Company and cookies and cocoa beat decorating the Christmas tree any day.
Even at midnight.
* * *
It’s going to be okay.
In the bathroom, Grace repeated Damon’s words. She stripped out of her clothes and dried herself off with a blue towel hanging on the rack.
Why wouldn’t it be okay?
She was naked, standing in a strange man’s house, about to put on a strange man’s pajamas, wondering if the strange man was too good to be true.
According to the sheriff, Bill Paulson was a kind, caring, generous man. She shouldn’t be surprised, since she believed Damon had helped her find this refuge from the storm.
But she doubted her late husband would appreciate the hum racing through her body. A hum that had nothing to do with the drive or the crash or the strangeness of the night, and everything to do with her handsome rescuer. The only way to describe the feeling was first-date jitters. Except this was no date. And Bill...
He reminded her of Damon. The two men had similar coloring and take-charge personalities. Bill exuded the same strength, confidence and heat as her husband.
Too bad the similarities ended there.
Damon had always been attractive, but his looks became rugged over the years due to scars from shrapnel and a nose broken twice. Not exactly world-weary, but not happy-go-lucky like Bill Paulson, whose gorgeous features belonged on the pages of an outdoor magazine layout. Bill wasn’t quite a pretty boy, especially with the sexy razor stubble, but close.
No doubt she was in shock.
That would explain her noticing every little thing about him. Reacting, too.
Touching Bill’s hand had felt good, his skin warm and rough against hers. His touching her had felt even better, his hand on her shoulder, calming and sure, as if it belonged there.
But when he’d touched her neck...intimate, almost sexual, albeit unintentional...
She missed...that. A man’s touch.
Don’t think about him.
At least not that way.
Annoyed with herself, she shrugged on the pajama shirt. The soft flannel brushed her like a caress. The friction of fabric over dry skin warmed her, even though the pajamas were too big.
The sleeves hung over her hands. She rolled them to her wrists, then fastened the front buttons with trembling fingers. Her hands didn’t shake from the cold, but from the situation.
Nerves.
She stepped into the pants. The hems pooled at her feet. She cuffed them.
The waistband slid down her hips. She rolled the top, determined to make this work.
Nerves weren’t her only issue. A touch of guilt, too.
Something’s got you wigged out.
Yeah, him.
Of all the houses on Mount Hood, she would pick the one belonging to a firefighter and mountain rescuer. The hottest guy she’d been alone with since, well, Damon had deployed.
Grace grimaced at her starstruck reflection. Had she looked this goofy while talking to Bill? She hoped not. Either way, she was being silly, acting like a teenager with a crush, not an adult, not a mom.
So what if Bill Paulson was a nice piece of eye candy? So what if he had a killer smile? So what if the concern in his bright, baby-blue eyes for her and Liam had sent an unexpected burst of heat rushing through her veins?
Tomorrow he would be one more person who had passed through her life. Nothing more.
All she had to do was survive tonight.
How hard could that be?
Grace shuffled from the bathroom and down the hallway, the carpet runner soft beneath her feet.
In the living room, a sense of warmth and homey goodness surrounded her. She’d been so frantic earlier she hadn’t noticed the house. Now she took in the hardwood floors, beamed ceiling, river rock fireplace, wood mantel covered with photographs, and beautifully lit Christmas tree.
She wiggled her toes.
More cabin than house.
Inviting and comfortable.
The kind of place she’d dreamed of living someday. The kind of place where a kid could grow up happy. The kind of place a family could call home.
The scent of the Christmas tree hung in the air along with a touch of smoke from the burning fire. The beer bottle on the wooden end table and the gigantic leather recliner seemed typical for a bachelor pad, but the couch with color-contrasting pillows and coordinating throw blanket seemed out of place for a guy living alone. A far cry from her cheap apartment in Columbus.
Was there a girlfriend or wife in the picture? Maybe an ex who had lived here and decorated?
Male laughter, rich and deep and smooth, washed over her like water from a hot shower, heating her from the outside in. Forget feeling warm; she was downright feverish.
She’d forgotten the appeal of a man’s laugh, the happiness and humor contagious. A higher pitched squeal joined in. That laugh, one she knew better than her own, brought a smile to her lips.
Liam.
Her chest tightened.
He could be such a serious boy. She was pleased he was having so much fun.
Grace entered the charming kitchen, with its dining area separated by a breakfast bar.
Bill sat at the table with her son, who was wrapped in a blanket, his little hands around a mug. Peanut sat on the table with his own mug in front of him.
What kind of guy would fix a cup of hot chocolate for a stuffed animal?
The sheriff had told her Bill Paulson was a cross between an Eagle Scout and an X Games champ. Yeah, that seemed to sum him up.
Grace moved behind Liam. She placed her hands on his narrow shoulders. “It looks like you boys did fine on your own.”
Bill stood, his manners excellent. “Your cocoa is on the counter.”
She noticed the steaming mug. “Liam doesn’t drink his very hot.”
“I’ve been around kids. I put ice cubes in his and Peanut’s cups in case they decided to share.”
She appreciated his treating Peanut like a living, breathing elephant, not a stuffed one. “Liam could spill on your blanket.”
“It’s washable. Isn’t that right, little dude?”
Liam looked up at Bill. Her son had a case of hero worship. “That’s right, big dude.”
“Okay, then.” Grace took her cup from the counter and sipped. “This is delicious.”
Bill raised his cup. “My mom makes her own cocoa mix.”
Liam took another sip. “It’s yum.”
Interesting. Her son seemed perfectly content to be away from her. Usually he didn’t want to be out of eyesight.
A twinge of regret pinched Grace’s heart. She’d done everything she could to be a good parent, but that didn’t seem to be enough. Liam liked having Bill—a man—around. Well, her son better enjoy the company because tomorrow they would be on their own again.
“You have a very nice home.” She wouldn’t expect a single guy’s house to be so clean, with homemade cocoa and cookies at the ready. “Thanks for everything.”
Bill gave her the once-over.
Grace knew better than to be flattered, especially since she couldn’t tell what he thought of her. Probably not much, given she was wearing his baggy pajamas, had no makeup on and her hair was a scraggly mess.
Her appearance wasn’t due only to traveling. She hadn’t cared how she looked since Damon died. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her hair cut. She hadn’t thought about her hair, her nails, her looks.
Until now.
She combed her fingers through damp strands, all too aware of how she’d let herself go these past two and a half years. Not that she wanted a man in their life. She could have stayed in Columbus and married Kyle if she’d wanted a husband.
Liam needs a father. You need a husband. You’ll grow to love me.
As if saying “I do” was all it took to make a marriage work. Grace shook the memory of Staff Sergeant Kyle Gabriel’s proposal from her mind. She dropped her hand to her side. “I don’t know how I’ll repay you for tonight.”
“No need.” Bill motioned to the empty chair next to Liam. “Send me a postcard once you’re settled in Astoria, and we’ll call it good.”
Relief washed over Grace, grateful that he hadn’t asked for more, for something she might not want to give. A postcard would be easy. She would have to remember to get his address. She sat. “I can manage that.”
“You mentioned trying something different by moving to Astoria. Why there and not a bigger city?”
“The Goonies.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a movie called The Goonies,” she explained. “When I was dating my husband, Damon was saving money to buy his truck, so we didn’t go out on dates that cost a lot of money. One time he came over to my house to watch movies. We saw The Goonies. Damon said when we got married we should go to Astoria for our honeymoon.”
“Astoria, Oregon?”
She shrugged, waiting for hot tears to prick her eyes. Surprisingly, they didn’t come. Sadness and grief ebbed like the tides. “It sounded cool to a couple of kids from Iowa. We didn’t have the money for a honeymoon after we eloped. We got married at city hall. Two excited kids—me in my Sunday best and Damon in his army dress uniform–with a bouquet of carnations and two plain gold wedding bands. Going to Astoria ended up on our to-do list.”
“You and your son are doing it now.”
Grace nodded. She thought Damon would approve.
Liam yawned.
She took the mug from his hand. A preemptive move. “Tired, baby?”
He shook his head. “P-nut tired. He ready for nighty-night.”
“It’s been a long day for Peanut. You, too.” Bill pulled out Liam’s chair. “I’ll show you the guest rooms.”
“One room is fine.” She stared at the dirty cups and spoons on the table. “Less of a mess to clean up tomorrow.”
“Help yourself to the spare toothbrushes and toothpaste in the bathroom drawer.”
“Have a lot of unexpected guests?” she asked.
“Not a lot, but I like to be prepared.” He winked. “You never know who might knock on the door.”
His tone teased, but Grace doubted his houseguests were stranded like her and Liam. Most likely they were attractive young females eager to spend the night.
The realization unsettled her.
Maybe she was wrong.
For all she knew, he had a girlfriend or a fiancée. The thought didn’t make her feel better.
“Thanks. I appreciate your hospitality. I hope having us here won’t cause you any problems with your...girlfriend.”
“No worries,” he said. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Yay. Single. Grace stiffened. Being happy he was available was a crazy reaction, but oh well. She was only human.
And out of his league.
She needed a haircut, a good night’s sleep, a job and the ability to converse with a hot guy without losing her cool.
Not only out of his league, in a different grade. Grace was a kindergartner when dealing with the opposite sex. Bill was working on his master’s thesis.
“Come on, Liam.” She reached for her son. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Liam held his arms out to Bill.
Hurt flashed through Grace. Her chest tightened. She struggled to breathe.
“What can I say?” Bill’s smile lit up his face and took her breath away. “Kids love me.”
“Women, too?” The words came out before Grace could stop them. She wanted to cringe, hide, run away. But where was she going to go? She swallowed a sigh.
Bill’s lopsided grin defined the word charming. “Most women. Except those who think I’m a psychotic killer.”
He meant her. His lighthearted tone told Grace he wasn’t upset. If anything, he made her suspicions sound...endearing. But she was still embarrassed.
“I’ll carry him to the guest room.” He lifted Liam up. “Don’t forget Peanut.”
Liam hugged the elephant and settled comfortably in Bill’s arms, against Bill’s chest. “Peanut like to be carried.”
“Good,” Bill said. “Because I like to carry.”
Watching the two was bittersweet for Grace. The last time Damon had carried their son, Liam had been a year old, barely walking. Babbling, not talking.
Don’t look back.
Grace was moving west to start over. She couldn’t change the past. Damon was never coming back. She needed to look forward for both her and Liam’s sake.
She followed Bill down the hallway to a room with a queen-size cherry sleigh bed and matching dresser and nightstand. A patchwork quilt covered the bed, with coordinating shams on the pillows. Framed pictures hung on the wall. The room sure beat a cheap motel with paper-thin walls, or an expensive hotel she couldn’t afford.
“This is lovely.” But odd considering the house belonged to a single guy. “Did you decorate the room yourself?”
“My mom helped me with the entire house. She thought my apartment was too much a man cave. I give her full credit for making sure everything coordinated.”
“Your mother did a good job.”
Holding Liam with one arm, Bill pulled down the covers. He gently set the little boy on the bed. “There you go, bud.”
Liam thrust out his lower lip. “Not tired. More cocoa and cookies.”
“I’ll take you to the bathroom,” Grace said. “Then I bet you and Peanut will be ready for bed.”
At least she hoped so, because she didn’t think her heavy eyelids would remain open much longer. Her feet ached for rest. Her brain wanted to shut down for the night.
“Want Bill.” Liam’s tiny fingers wiggled, reaching for the firefighter. “P-nut want Bill, too.”
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. This was the first time Liam had asked for someone else. She tried to ignore the prick of hurt, telling herself this was no big deal.
Bill knelt next to the bed, giving her son the height advantage. “Listen. I’m going to be in the room next to the bathroom. That’s across the hall. When you wake up, we can have breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes sound good?”
Liam nodded about a hundred times.
“We’ll make a snowman if the storm lets up.” Bill stood. “But you and Peanut need to be well rested, okay?”
Another nod from Liam. This time Peanut joined in.
Grace mouthed a thank-you.
Bill stepped away from the bed. “Give me your keys. I’ll get your suitcases out of the truck.”
She thought for a moment, touched her hand to her face. “Oh, no. I left the keys in the ignition. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
He had no idea. “Our suitcase is on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Everything else we own is in the back.”
Compassion filled his eyes, not the usual pity people lavished on a widow.
She appreciated that.
Bill glanced toward the window. “Under a tarp or do you have a shell?”
“Shell.”
“I hope there aren’t any cracks from the accident.”
“If there are, I don’t want to know.” She looked at Liam, who was bouncing Peanut on the bed as if the mattress was a trampoline. “Not until morning.”
Bill drew his hand across his mouth as if he were zipping his lips.
The gesture was kidlike and sweet at the same time. “Thanks.”
His gaze rested on Liam. “It’s not easy being a single parent.”
The sincerity of Bill’s voice made Grace wonder if he knew someone who’d lost a spouse. She thought about asking, but didn’t want to pry. “You do what you have to do. I’m not the first wife to have lost her husband. Or Liam his father.”
“It still sucks.”
Bill’s words cut through the pleasantries—aka crap—people said to her, trying to make the bad stuff bearable. “Yes, it does. But you’re right about having memories and Liam. That’s made all the difference. And now we have our own Ranger angel looking out for us. Damon definitely had our six tonight.”
A thoughtful expression formed on Bill’s face. “You’re lucky you walked away from that snowbank without any injuries.”
“True, but that’s not what I meant.” Grace smiled up at him, a smile straight from her heart, something usually reserved for Liam alone. “I was talking about us finding you.”
