Читать книгу The Complete Christmas Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 31

Rory left the door to Tyler’s room halfway open and paused at the top of the stairs. Her little boy had fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. No surprise considering how exciting the day had been for him and how hard he’d fought to stay awake after supper to finish the tree.

From downstairs, the television’s barely audible volume told her Erik had switched from How the Grinch Stole Christmas to the news.

She hated the ambivalence creeping back as the low tones mingled with the beat of the sleet on the roof, the muffled sound of it pinging against the upstairs windows. The thought of riding out the ice storm in a still unfamiliar house would have had her anxious on a number of levels, had it not been for Erik.

She felt safe with him there. Physically, anyway. And there wasn’t a single part of her being that didn’t want exactly what he had just helped her provide for Tyler: an afternoon and evening of moments he might always remember as special.

That, in a nutshell, was her problem. His presence provided as much comfort as it did disquiet. Tyler had turned to her every time he’d had a question about where an ornament should go, but it had been Erik’s assistance or advice he’d sought if he couldn’t get it on a branch, and his approval he’d wanted with nearly every accomplishment.

She didn’t want him being so drawn to the man.

She didn’t want to be so drawn to him herself.

Wishing she still had her chatty little boy as a buffer, she headed down the steps, stopping when she reached the foyer.

Erik stood with his back to her, his heavy charcoal pullover stretched across his broad shoulders, his hands casually tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he faced the talking head on the television. The size of the blaze in the fireplace indicated that he’d added another log. Strewn around him were empty bins and ornament boxes. In front of the sofa, the large, square coffee table held a red candle in a beribboned glass hurricane and the last of the crystal icicles waiting to be hung on the brightly lit tree.

As if sensing her presence, Erik turned toward her. She immediately turned her attention to cleaning up the mess.

“Is he asleep?” he asked.

“We barely got through brushing his teeth.”

“I’m surprised he made it that far.” Seeing what she was doing, and how deliberately she avoided his eyes, he picked up a bin that had held the faux evergreen boughs now draped over the stone fireplace mantel, set it in the entry and put another on the coffee table for her to fill with what she collected.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Sure,” he replied, and finally found himself faced with what he’d managed to avoid the past few hours.

It had felt strange decorating her tree. Partly because he’d never helped decorate one with a small child buzzing around his knees, partly because the feel of the room with her understated touches in it was completely different from what it had been years ago. What he’d felt most, though, was the need to get past her guardedness with him. That caution still tempered her smiles, and made him more conscious of little things like how her animation had died when she’d opened a bin to see a Christmas stocking embroidered with Dad. Her wariness with him wasn’t anything overt. It wasn’t even anything someone else might notice. Probably something even he wouldn’t notice, if he hadn’t known he was responsible for it.

He never should have kissed her. The thought had crossed his mind a thousand times in the past few days, usually right behind the memory of how she’d practically melted in his arms. He’d yet to forget the sweet taste of her, the perfect way she’d fit his body. It was as if the feel of her had burned itself into his brain, leaving nerves taut, distracting him even now.

He shouldn’t have gotten so annoyed with her on the phone last night, either, though he was pretty sure that same sort of frustration had been at least partially to blame. But the storm wasn’t letting up anytime soon, the thickening ice made escape next to impossible and he didn’t want this evening to be any more difficult than it needed to be. Short of apologizing to her, which he had the feeling would only make matters worse, especially for the kiss part, he’d do his best to put her at ease with him some other way.

She’d just reached up to hang a fallen ornament high on the tree. As it had every other time she’d reached that high, the motion exposed a thin strip of pale skin between the hem of her short white turtleneck, shorter green vest and the dark denims hugging her sweetly rounded backside.

“So,” he said, forcing his focus to something he wanted to know, anyway. “What’s with the ‘magic’ ornaments?” He nodded toward the empty shoe box on the end table. “You told Tyler all those you took out of that box appeared out of nowhere.”

The tiny crystal ice skates, the little Eiffel Tower stamped Paris, Texas, the miniature pink-and-white cupcake—all the ornaments in her “magic” collection looked much like the other decorations sparkling on the tree. Yet she’d even handled them differently, more carefully, he supposed.

“That’s because they did,” she replied, lowering her arms to pack up more empty boxes. “It didn’t matter where my parents and I were, every Christmas morning I’d open the door and there would be a package with a gold box tied with a red bow. Inside would be an ornament that had something to do with where we were staying. Or something I was into at the time.”

“Did your parents leave them there?”

“They had no idea who sent them. There was never a return address.”

“So that’s why you call them magic,” he concluded.

“It was more than that.” Conscious of him watching her, she packed the boxes into the bin he’d set on the coffee table. “It was what I felt when one of those little packages appeared. That’s what made them magic. At that moment, no matter what town we were in, with Mom and Dad mine for the day and that gift in my hands, I had the feeling that everything was right in my little world.” That was the feeling she wanted Tyler to know. He deserved that. Every child did. “I wound up with fourteen of them.”

“It sounds like you moved around a lot.”

“We did. Mom and Dad still do.” Their mailing address was their agent’s. “They’re musicians.”

His brow furrowed. “So what’s wrong with that?”

The question brought a quick frown of her own. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it.”

“I didn’t mean you. You said the other day that Curt’s parents had a problem with you being his secretary instead of a lawyer. That things got worse when they found out your ‘people,’” he repeated, making air quotes, “weren’t the right pedigree. What’s wrong with being a musician?”

Her instinctive defense eased with his mystified tone. Marginally.

Apparently he had her a little edgier than she’d realized.

“There wouldn’t have been anything wrong with it if they’d played the violin or French horn in a symphony, but Dad plays bass guitar and Mom is a singer in a rock band. That was not the image Audrey wanted their friends to have of their son’s wife.” She closed the lid on the now full bin and moved to fill another. “On the rare occasion mention of my family came up, she said they were in the music industry and changed the subject.”

Unlike nearly everything else she’d exposed about herself the last time Erik had been there, she’d forgotten she’d even alluded to her parents. She’d be the first to admit that their decidedly bohemian lifestyle hadn’t provided the most stable environment, but it wasn’t as if they’d tattooed her forehead and named her Moonbeam or Thistleweed. They were good people who just happened to be creative, extroverted free spirits who’d never figured out which of them possessed the recessive “conventional” gene each accused the other of passing on to her. They were her mom and dad. She loved them. She didn’t understand them, but she loved them.

“Are they any good?”

“They’re very good.”

“Where do they play?”

“Sometimes they get a gig doing backup for tours,” she told him, grateful for the ease of his questions as they worked. Relieved, too, that he wasn’t letting her dwell on her former in-laws’ biases.

Trying to appear as comfortable with their present situation as he did, she looked around for anything she’d missed. “Mostly they’re on a circuit where they play small venues for a few weeks at a time.”

“That had to make for an interesting childhood,” he muttered, and handed her the stack of boxes from the sofa.

“I suppose it was.” After adding what he’d given her to the last bin, she snapped on its lid. “I just never knew where we’d be next, or how long we would be there.” Fluid, her mom liked to call their lives.

“But a little gold box showed up everywhere you went.” The container now filled, Erik picked it up to stack with the others. “Just trying to get the rest of the story,” he explained, and waited for her to move so he could carry it to the door.

She stepped aside, pretty sure he would have moved her himself if she hadn’t.

With him carrying away the last bin, she scooped up a few of the crystal icicles and snowflakes still on the coffee table, started hanging them on the tree. “They showed up every year until I stopped traveling with my parents,” she told him. “Mom and Dad had been playing in Seattle and I didn’t want to move around anymore. I’d just turned eighteen, so I stayed here when they left for their next engagement. That was the first Christmas a package didn’t show up. We finally figured out it was their booking agent’s wife who’d been sending them. Apparently, he represented a few other artists who traveled with their kids and she did it for all of them.”

“Nice lady.” Erik came up beside her, pulled one of the icicles from her hand. “So where will your parents be this Christmas?”

“Colorado. They’re booked through New Year’s.”

He glanced at her profile as she lifted another bit of crystal above her head to hang on a high branch. She wouldn’t have family around, he realized. Not liking that thought, not questioning why, he took the icicle from her and hung it below the white angel on top. As he did, he caught the clean scent of something herbal mingling with pine. Her shampoo.

The fragrance was subtle. Its effect on him was not.

Intent on ignoring both, he took one of the snowflakes. “So what will you and Tyler do? Go to a friend’s house? Have friends over?”

He was just making conversation. Rory felt certain of that. And the question seemed casual enough. It was his nearness, and the answer, that gave her pause.

“We’ll just stay here. My girlfriends from Tyler’s school will both be out of town.”

“What about other friends?”

“Except for work and Tyler’s school, I wasn’t involved in much the past year. Most of the other people I socialized with were in Curt’s circle. Members of the firm and their spouses,” she explained. “I don’t belong in that group anymore.”

For a moment Erik said nothing. Beyond them, the low voice of the weatherman droned on, the fire snapped and crackled. He could let it go, move on to something less personal. His mention before of the man she’d married—his relatives, anyway—had dented the calm facade she’d worn for her son the past few hours. But her guard with him had finally slipped, and his curiosity tugged hard.

“You said Curt had a different area of practice,” he reminded her, “but was he in the same firm as his father and brother?”

With a faint frown, she handed him the last two ornaments she held and turned to pick up more for herself.

“Different firms. Both firms belong to the same country club, though. It’s where the guys play racquetball and squash and wine and dine their clients. For the most part,” she qualified, moving back to the tree. “Curt liked us to entertain at home.” He’d seemed proud of her skills as a hostess, too, she thought, only to banish the memory before others could take hold. The moment she’d seen his stocking a while ago, the old doubts had rushed back, adding a different sort of disquiet to an already challenging day.

“You lived in the same circles as his parents?”

“It’s not like we saw them all the time,” she replied, hearing the frown in his voice. “But the wives of some of the partners in Curt’s firm were on the same committees as Audrey and her friends. The ones who don’t work outside their homes, anyway. Symphony. Heart Ball. That sort of thing.”

“And you?”

“I was on them, too. For a while.” She’d done her best to help Curt’s career any way she could. They’d been a team that way, a more intimate extension of the partnership they’d developed when he’d been her boss and she his secretary. Or so she’d thought. “Our personal friends were more into getting together for dinners, or taking the kids out for lunch after T-ball.”

“What about them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you ask them over? I bet Tyler’d be up for it.”

She was sure he would. It just wasn’t that simple. And what Erik was asking was really quite sweet. Surprising. Unexpected. But sweet—if such a word could be applied to the six feet plus of disturbing male quietly messing with her peace of mind.

It seemed he didn’t want her and her son spending Christmas Day alone.

“That’s the group I don’t belong to anymore.” The other one, the country club set, she’d never really had. “I was part of a couple with Curt,” she explained, wondering how long it had taken the man beside her to think of himself as an I rather than a we after his wife had gone. “After he died, the guys didn’t have their colleague and I was a reminder to the wives of how their lives would change without their husbands. Or how their lives might not even be what they’d thought they were,” she concluded, only to find herself in the one place she hadn’t wanted to go.

The place where so many questions begged for answers that would never come because the only person who could provide them was no longer there.

She wasn’t at all sure how their conversation had taken such a swerve.

“What part wasn’t what you thought it was?”

Her eyes met his, old pain quickly masked as she glanced away.

“All of it.” She gave a brave little laugh, tried to smile. “So any advice you have about how to move beyond something I can’t do a thing about would be greatly appreciated. Something more immediate than a five-year plan would be nice.”

Perspective. That was what she needed. Since she couldn’t imagine how she’d ever have it where her marriage had been concerned, the least she could do was maintain some about the too-attractive man who’d kissed her senseless four days ago and now acted as if nothing had happened at all—which she would be eternally grateful for, if she could somehow forget it herself. He was her mentor. Granted, he was her business mentor, but maybe the more she reminded herself of his place in her life, the less she’d be affected by things like the swift concern lowering his brow. Since his place in her life was to provide advice, she might as well take advantage of his counsel.

“Do you want to be a little more specific?” he asked.

Pretty certain the tensions of the day had just caught up with her, she dropped her glance to the slender ornament between her fingers. What she wanted had nothing to do with the store. But Erik did have a certain amount of experience in this particular area. He’d lost someone who’d once been important to him, too.

“I overheard some things at Curt’s funeral that I can’t seem to forget. About our marriage,” she explained, her voice quietly matter-of-fact. “Since he’s not here for me to ask about them, I think what I really want is to know how long it will take before the answers don’t matter so much.”

Erik watched her blink at the ornament, her eyebrows knitted as she stared down at what she held.

She’d never told him what had happened to her husband. Neither Phil nor Cornelia had mentioned it, either. And he hadn’t wanted to ask. It had seemed to him that the less he knew about her, the easier it would be to keep her pigeonholed as a project, a duty. Something with a start and end date that required nothing of him in between but a little business advice and elbow grease.

It would have helped enormously if her little boy had been a brat.

It would have helped even more had she not been trying so hard to move on.

“What happened to your husband, Rory?”

Her focus remained on the light reflecting off the crystal. “He was on his way home from work. It was late and a drunk ran a red light.” The twin slashes between her eyebrows deepened. “He was dead at the scene.”

The unnatural calm in her voice belied how totally her world had shattered at that moment. That same stillness held her there, motionless except for the movement of her finger along the spiral facets.

“And what had you heard that you couldn’t ask him about?”

She barely blinked. “That he’d married me to spite his parents.

“It was after Curt’s funeral,” she added quietly. “At the reception.” His parents had wanted the reception after the service at the club. She hadn’t cared where it had been held, had been fine with going in whichever direction she’d been pointed. Other than Tyler, she hadn’t cared about anything at all.

“I was in the restroom when some other women came in. They didn’t know I was there because I overheard one of them ask how long Curt and I had been married. One of Audrey’s friends told her, then said I was nothing like the women he’d usually gone out with. Refined women, she’d called them. I heard someone else say that everyone knew he’d married me just to spite his parents. Apparently, not long after Audrey heard we were dating, she started setting him up with women she thought more appropriate. The more polite consensus was that he’d married me to get her off his back.”

That was the only clear memory she had of that entire day. So much of it had been a fog of hugs, sympathetic murmurings and just wanting to find the friends watching Tyler and get her son out of there.

She absently hooked the icicle she held onto the nearest branch. “He’d never told me his mother was doing that. But it could certainly explain why he’d wanted to elope.” She’d thought at the time that his idea to run off to Lake Tahoe had sounded wonderfully romantic. But at barely twenty-one, what had she known?

“I’d been happy. I’d thought he was, too.” Her hand fell, her voice along with it. “He’d always put in long hours. But that last year he’d put in even more. He’d been trying to make partner,” she said, though she had no idea why the detail even mattered now. “After hearing those women, I couldn’t help wondering if he was really away so much because of work. Or because he just didn’t want to be there with me and I’d been too naive to realize it.”

Her throat felt oddly tight. It had been well over a year since she’d verbalized that fear. She’d found out later that some of their friends had heard the rumors that day, too. Audrey, grieving herself, and in an apparent effort to save face for both of them, had even called her the next day to apologize for her friends’ “lack of sensitivity at such a time.” She had not, however, denied their conclusions.

Rory swallowed. Hard.

Feeling nearly as bewildered and betrayed as she had that awful afternoon, she pushed her fingers through her hair, trying desperately to force a smile. “I think now would be a really good time for you to give me the estimate I’m looking for. Six more months? A year? Please just don’t say ‘never.’”

For long seconds, Erik said nothing. He remained an arm’s length away, his thoughts about the women’s thoughtlessness anything but charitable, and fought the instinct to pull her into his arms.

He’d had closure when his marriage had fallen apart. He’d had answers to his questions. After he’d divorced, there had been no doubt in his mind that his marriage had been irreparably broken. The way this woman’s had ended, she was left with questions that could never be answered.

Not by the man she’d married.

He seriously questioned Curt having had any ulterior motive when he’d married her. There was far too much about her to be attracted to, too much to truly care about.

Since the guy wasn’t around to tell her what all those things were, he’d just have to enlighten her himself.

“Come here.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her toward the wing chair by the sofa, muting the television on the way, and nudged her to the cushion. With his side to the fire, he hitched at the knees of his jeans and sat down on the heavy hassock in front of her.

Resting his forearms on his thighs, he clasped his hands loosely between them. “You want my take on this?”

Her arms crossed protectively at her waist, she murmured a soft, “Please.”

“For starters,” he began, being as objective as possible, “it’s far more logical to conclude that he married you not to spite his parents, but in spite of them. You’re beautiful, smart and easy to be with. For the most part,” he qualified when she blinked at him in disbelief. “You can be pretty unreasonable at times,” he pointed out, mostly so he wouldn’t have to consider how unwillingly drawn he was to her himself. “But, trust me, he was attracted to you. He had to be.” Especially if she’d showed up at the office looking the way she had the other night in that suit and heels.

“As for what those big mouths in the bathroom said about you being different,” he continued, “you probably were. If he’d been going out with society types or old money or whatever his mother considered ‘refined,’ you’d have been a breath of fresh air.”

A few years out from leaving the mobile nest of her fairly unconventional parents, there probably hadn’t been an ounce of pretension about her. Even now, the polish he suspected she’d acquired in her husband’s circles seemed as understated as her quiet sensuality. There was something about her that defied definition. It was almost as if her desire for permanence had forced her from her parents’ artistic, nomadic lifestyle to seek stability in the urbane and conservative and she’d yet to find where she was comfortable in between. What truly impressed him, though, was the strength that pushed her past what many would see as totally daunting obstacles, along with a seemingly innate ability to nurture, to ease and to make a man feel as if every word he uttered mattered.

The way she made him feel just then.

“He might not have even realized how constrained he felt until you came along.” Thinking of the emotionally vacant relationships he personally limited himself to, he cleared his throat, glanced from the quiet way she watched him. “You went to work as his secretary. Right?”

Looking a little doubtful about his assessment, she gave a small nod. “He’d been there four years.”

“So even before you came along, his career choices made it pretty clear he had a mind of his own. It sounds like he was willing to follow the family profession, but on his own terms. When he did meet you, I doubt he gave a second’s thought to what his mom and dad would think. By the time he realized he wanted you in his life, their opinion might have mattered to him, but not as much as you did.”

He knew for a fact that the physical pull between a man and a woman tended to lead the way where the sexes were concerned. If Curt had been half the man Erik suspected he was, he’d have had as hard a time as he was at that moment keeping his hands to himself. On the parental objection front, he couldn’t imagine his own folks finding any fault with her at all.

“As for eloping,” he continued, not at all sure where that last thought had come from, “he probably knew his parents wouldn’t be willing participants, so it just made sense to avoid the problem. Most guys I know prefer to duck all the big wedding plans, anyway. Unless that’s what his fiancée really wants,” he qualified, because he’d given in on that one himself.

A bit of red glitter clung to one knee of her jeans. With the tip of her index finger, she gave it a nudge. “I didn’t care about anything big, Erik. I just wanted to marry him.”

He had no idea why that didn’t surprise him. What did was how a while ago, he’d wanted details. Now, he did not.

“A little more insider info here,” he offered, despite a stab of what felt suspiciously like envy. “Men aren’t that complicated. If Curt was like most of us, if he was working longer hours, he was just doing what he needed to do to get ahead in his field and provide the kind of life he wanted for his family. It’s what a guy does,” he said simply. “Our egos tend to be tied to what we do for a living. But our work is also how we take care of the people we care about.”

As if he’d just touched on something familiar, her glance lifted, then promptly fell.

She’d forgotten how often Curt had told her that he wouldn’t be putting in those hours forever. That soon he’d be a partner and they could afford a bigger house, better cars, the kinds of vacations he wanted them to take. So many times he’d told her he was doing what he was doing for them.

She’d loved him for that. But she also remembered telling him she couldn’t imagine living in a house larger than the one they had. She’d been fine—more than fine—with everything they’d already possessed.

“I think he needed bigger and better more than I did.”

“That’s entirely possible.” Erik watched her nudge again at the bit of sparkle, the rest of her fingers curled into her palm. “A lot of people measure their success by their acquisitions. Especially if the people around them do the same thing.” He wouldn’t be in business himself if there weren’t people who wanted to own the exclusive sailing sloops he loved to build. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t thinking of you. And Tyler. And don’t forget, he also cared enough about what you had together to work through the...ah...baby problem you two had,” he decided to call it, “and adopt that great little guy upstairs.”

What she had recalled moments ago had put a microscopic tear in the doubts that had caused her to question nearly every memory. Erik’s conclusions had just ripped that hole wide.

She had no secrets from this man, she realized. There was nothing of any import about her he didn’t know and, in some inexplicable way, seem to understand. Because of that he had just reminded her of a time when she had known without a doubt that her husband loved her. Curt had been so worried about losing her, of her thinking less of him because he couldn’t give her the child they’d both wanted so much. Yet the struggles, disappointments and finally the joy of Tyler had only brought them closer.

So many details of her married life had faded in the past months. So much had been lost or skewed by second-guessing and uncertainties. But that much she remembered with crystal clarity, and while the memory was a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost, it also felt mercifully...healing.

“As for the rest of it,” he said quietly, “if you were happy and if he seemed happy with you and Tyler, that’s all that matters.” Without thinking, he reached over, traced his finger over hers. “If you’d stop looking for ways to explain what you heard, I think you’d probably know that.”

The tip of his finger moved over her knuckles, his touch gentle, reassuring. His strong hand looked huge next to hers, and she wanted badly to absorb his certainty as he uncurled her fingers and rested his palm on the back of her hand.

“Do you think you can do that?” he asked.

Watching his fingers curve around hers, she gave another little nod.

“That’s a start, then,” he murmured.

He had no idea how far beyond a start he’d led her.

At that moment, with Erik doing nothing but holding her hand, she couldn’t help but think of how Curt would have really liked this man. She could have hugged him herself for defending Curt the way he had—had she not already been wishing he would hold her.

He tipped up her chin, curved his hand to the side of her face. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Her heart gave an odd little bump. “Sure.”

“You’re a really lousy liar.”

She had no idea what he saw in her expression. She just knew her throat felt suspiciously tight as his dark eyes narrowed on hers.

“You’ll be all right, Rory. I don’t know how long it will take for you,” he admitted, surprising empathy in the deep tones of his voice. “It was a couple of years before I realized I was having a good time again. But you’ll get better before you even realize it’s happening.”

Her head unconsciously moved toward his palm. The heat of his hand felt good against her cheek, warm, comforting. Grounding. At that moment, she just didn’t know if it was that anchoring touch or his confident assurance that she needed most. She felt relieved by that contact. It was as if he was letting her know she wasn’t as alone as she so often felt. She craved that security as much as she did his disarming gentleness when his thumb brushed the curve of her jaw and edged to the corner of her mouth.

His eyes followed the slow movement, his carved features going taut as he carried that mesmerizing motion to her bottom lip.

Her breath caught. When she felt his thumb give a little tug, her heart bumped hard against her ribs.

An instant later, his jaw tightened and his hand fell.

At his abrupt withdrawal, disappointment shot through her. Swift and unsettling. She wouldn’t have pulled away, wouldn’t have done a thing to stop him had he moved closer. Knowing that, embarrassingly certain he did, too, Rory rose before he could and reached for an empty mug on the end table.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I said I wouldn’t do that again. Dump on you like that, I mean.”

When she turned back, Erik had pushed himself to his feet.

Beyond his broad shoulders, a log broke in the fireplace, embers spraying upward. The tick of ice blowing hard against the window grew more audible with another gust of wind.

The storm added yet another layer of unease.

“I asked,” he reminded her.

“That’s true.” Hoping to shake how he unsettled her, she tried for a smile. “So it’s your fault.”

She was talking about his uncanny ability to uncork her most private concerns. From the way his glance dropped to her mouth, he seemed to be thinking more of the seductive pull snaking across the six feet of tension separating them.

Or maybe it was just her own tension she felt.

“Just part of the service.”

He’d only been doing his job.

The reminder had her ducking her head as she turned away. It didn’t matter that she’d wanted his kiss, or how badly she’d wanted him to hold her. It didn’t even matter that she didn’t trust what she’d felt when she’d been in his arms before, that almost desperate need to hide in his strength.

He’d offered her his help, a little comfort and his experience. What he wasn’t offering was a refuge, and she had no business thinking of him as one.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just say good-night now,” she murmured. “You’re welcome to stay down here and watch TV if you want. My bedroom is the one—”

“I know where your bedroom is, Rory.”

Of course he did.

“The sheets are clean and I put clean towels in the master bathroom.” Her bathroom wasn’t very big, but he already knew that, too. “I set out a new toothbrush for you.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he assured her. “Is there anything you want me to do down here?”

“Just bank the fire.”

The rest could wait until morning.

The telltale muscle in his jaw jerked. “Consider it banked. I’ll take care of that,” he said, taking the mug from her. “You go on up. I’ll catch the news for a while and turn off the lights.”

He obviously felt the need for a little space, too.

More than willing to give it to him, she started for the stairs.

The silence behind her and the faint ticking of ice against glass had her turning right back.

“Is the roof up there okay? It can handle the weight of the ice, can’t it?”

“The roof should be fine.”

She lifted her chin, turned back again.

Another step and she turned right back. “Is there anything I can get you before I go up?”

He’d barely met her eyes again before he shook his head and turned away himself. “I don’t need a thing,” he assured her. “Just go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”