Читать книгу Santa Brought A Son - Melissa McClone, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 13

After a restless night, Reed buttoned his coat and stepped out of Marabelle Bailey’s Fernville B&B. The mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked apple-cinnamon coffee cake disappeared when he shut the front door.

A light dusting of snow covered the sidewalks and tree branches. The chilly air reminded him of going to school on winter mornings like this—his boots crunching through the layers of snow and ice as he dodged snowballs thrown his way. Nerds, geeks and dweebs had made the perfect targets back then. Reed shoved his gloved hands into his jacket pockets.

A giant Christmas tree decorated with twinkling lights and large multicolored balls graced the town square. The Douglas fir towered over the garland-draped gazebo where musicians performed during the summertime. The scene was pure Currier & Ives, but Reed felt too much like Scrooge to enjoy it.

The ghosts of his past had been out in full force ever since the wedding last night. Catching up and spending time with his high school buddies had been good. He’d forgotten how much fun his friends were. But seeing Samantha after all these years and kissing her…

Something physical still existed between them. Something good. Kissing her had been better than he remembered. Better than any kiss he remembered. And this time he couldn’t chalk the feeling up to inexperience. Despite his fear as a teenager that no woman would ever want him, he’d had enough practice over the years.

If Samantha had shown him any interest last night, he would have been all over it. All over her. But she wanted nothing to do with him. He’d seen it in her eyes and heard it in her voice. Her rejection was more bittersweet than painful. A relief rather than a regret. And he wasn’t about to slink away without a word the way he’d done almost nine years ago. He was through being a loser. This time he would accept defeat and face her like a man. He would say goodbye, get the closure he should have gotten before and move on.

The insides of the shops surrounding the town square were dark except for the Fernville Coffee Shop and Fernville Flowers. A Closed sign hung in the window of the flower shop. Samantha stood on a ladder hanging something from the ceiling. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a gray sweater. Pink used to be her color of choice. No matter. Tastes changed over the years. What color she preferred to wear wasn’t his business. Saying goodbye was. He had two hours until he needed to leave for the airport. Better get to it. Reed knocked on the glass door.

Samantha’s gaze met his. No smile, no reaction at all. She climbed down from the ladder and walked to the door. Her hair was pulled back, but the style was more romantic than severe with stray tendrils framing her face. Too bad those did nothing to soften the rest of her. With the automatic movements of a robot, she unlocked the door and cracked it open. “A little early to be out and about don’t you think?”

The tightness of her mouth told him she didn’t want him here. He would make this quick. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye last night.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before.”

Her words stung, but she was right. He had ended it badly before. Hell, he hadn’t even ended it. Just run away. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to say goodbye this time.”

Only the cracked door separated her from him, but the silence seemed to increase the distance between them. He could hear the footsteps of someone behind him, the sound of a car’s engine idling nearby and the beating of his own heart.

“That’s all you want?” she asked.

He nodded.

She glanced back into the shop. Her hair was woven into a single braid. He remembered when she wore two braids. The style had been more sexy than childlike. He felt a twinge in his groin.

Don’t think about her. Don’t think about the past. Don’t think about anything except the reason you are here.

“Okay, goodbye.” She stared past him as if he were invisible. Funny, but that’s how he’d felt in high school around everyone but her. “Have a safe trip back to Boston. And have a wonderful life, too.”

The temperature had dropped more than a few degrees, and he couldn’t blame it all on the weather. She might as well have slammed the door in his face.

“Feel better?” Samantha asked.

Reed felt the same way he had the last time he saw her. All tied up in knots and wondering what the future held without her in his life. But this time Art wasn’t standing in his way. No one was. And if Reed truly wanted her, he was man enough to get her this time around. “No.”

She fiddled with the door lock. “What more do you want?”

He wanted to leave. He had to return to Boston, to his job. He had no time for a long-distance relationship, let alone an affair. But something held him in his place.

Why wasn’t closure enough, now that he had it? Because “goodbye” didn’t resolve what they had shared so long ago. She had been his first love, his first lover. And last night’s kiss had awakened both dormant feelings and memories. Good ones and bad. He realized this wasn’t about saying goodbye. Not at all.

Plump snowflakes fell from the sky, landing on the sidewalk and on him. “Sam…”

“It’s Samantha.”

“Samantha,” he repeated. “What happened during spring break—”

“Was years ago,” she interrupted. “Forget about it.”

Logically he knew she was correct, but Reed wanted her to admit she’d made a mistake choosing Art over him. And Reed didn’t want to leave until he got that. But the longer he stood there, the better he understood it wasn’t going to happen.

Snow fell harder. The darkening sky told him this wasn’t a passing flurry, though the weather forecast hadn’t called for snow. “Would you mind if I came inside and called the airline about my flight?”

She looked into the shop again. “This isn’t a good time.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

With a hint of annoyance in her eyes, she stepped back and opened the door. “Okay.”

It wasn’t the warmest invitation he’d ever received, but he brushed the snow off him and stepped inside. “Thanks.”

Her store overflowed with holiday cheer. A contrast to the reception he’d received from its owner. The scent of vanilla, cinnamon and pine reminded him of his grandmother’s house. White twinkling lights entwined in garland added a touch of whimsy. Stockings of different shapes and sizes were hung on the walls. Ornaments decorated several Christmas trees. Icicles and snowflakes dangled from the ceiling. Menorahs and dradels filled an entire display rack. Only Christmas carols were missing.

A red Santa hat lay on a table, and Reed placed it on his head. “Ho-ho-ho.” He expected a smile. He didn’t get one. “Nice shop. Very christmasy.”

“The phone is on the counter by the cash register.”

“I have my cell phone,” Reed admitted. He called the airline. His flight was delayed. If the snow continued to fall, it would be canceled. Renting a car and trying to get ahead of the storm seemed like his best option. He didn’t want to intrude on Samantha any longer. She’d made her choice; he was making his. He had a life now. He wasn’t the same boy he’d once been.

A scream tore through the silence. A blur of blue raced from the back into the store toppling a three-foot-tall Father Christmas figurine. Samantha’s quick reflexes kept it from hitting the floor.

A boy wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans held up a Gameboy. Brown hair stuck out from his baseball cap. “Look. I made it to level six, Mom.”

Mom? It shouldn’t matter that she’d had a child with another man—her husband—but still Reed’s heart tightened. He’d thought of her having kids, but in a detached first-comes-marriage-then-comes-baby sort of way, but seeing it was different. And affected him more than he could have imagined.

He did a double take. The kid looked too old to be hers. Guess she and Art hadn’t waited to start a family.

She smiled, though her face had lost some of its color. “That’s great, honey.”

The tenderness in her voice took Reed by surprise. She sounded like a mom. When he was younger, he’d imagined her as a girlfriend, lover, wife, but never a mother. Of course, he’d been twenty the last time he saw her, and children hadn’t been on the edge of his radar screen. The same way they weren’t now.

“I didn’t have to use the clues from the magazine.” The boy bounced from foot to foot. “I did it all on my own.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” she said.

Samantha eyed Reed. Her piercing gaze seemed to be searching for something. What, he didn’t know.

“Okay.” The boy grinned and a dimple appeared on his left cheek.

Reed touched the spot of his own dimple. Same left side.

The boy looked up at him and his smile widened. “I like your hat.”

Reed had forgotten he was wearing it. “Thanks.”

“My dad used to wear a Santa hat every Christmas,” he said.

“Timmy, this is Mr. Connors.” Samantha sounded hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “Reed, this is Timmy.”

“Do you play video games?” Timmy asked.

“Yes.” Reed and his high school friends had spent their free time playing video and computers games, collecting Star Wars figurines and watching Star Trek reruns and its various sequel series. “But I play more computer games now.”

“Mr. Connors went to high school with me and your dad,” she emphasized the last word. All of her features seemed tight. The wariness Reed had glimpsed last night was back.

“I want to be a pitcher like my dad.” As Timmy drew his brows together, two lines formed about his nose. Just like Samantha used to do when she was concerned about an upcoming test or homework assignment. “But I need to learn to throw a curve ball first. Do you know how?”

“Playing catch is more my style,” Reed admitted. “I never could throw a curve ball myself.”

“That’s okay,” Timmy said. “Playing catch is fun, too. I want a new mitt for my birthday.”

“When’s your birthday?” Reed asked.

“In twelve days. I’ll be eight.” Timmy smiled. “I’m having my birthday party at the ice rink after school. We’re going to skate, play hockey and eat lots of cake.”

“Sounds fun.”

But eight? Samantha must have gotten pregnant right after graduation. Reed subtracted nine months from Timmy’s birthday. The date fell right around spring break. The spring break when they’d made love. Reed glanced at Timmy, at his brown hair and eyes. Art and Samantha had been Fernville High’s blond-haired, blue-eyed golden couple. Reed’s pulse quickened.

Theoretically he could be Timmy’s father, but that wasn’t possible. They’d used protection. Besides, she would have told him if he were going to be a father. No woman in her right mind would keep a child a secret. No, Timmy wasn’t his. She must have gone straight from his bed to Art’s, as Reed had always suspected. The truth disappointed more than hurt.

“Want to come to my party?” Timmy asked.

Samantha almost dropped a glass Santa ornament she was hanging on a tree. “That’s polite of you to invite Mr. Connors, but he lives in Boston.”