Читать книгу Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas - SUSAN MEIER - Страница 12

“DO you want me to be there?”

Wendy bit her lip, considering that. Cullen had promised Randy Zamias he would be part of things while he was in town, but she didn’t want Harry to see Cullen in such an important role that he’d grow to depend on him and have a hole in his life when Cullen returned to Miami.

Still, this was a delicate situation and the more people Harry had around him for support, the better.

She glanced at her watch. “I’ve hired a babysitter who’s been staying with him after school until I return from work. I’m trying to decide if it’s better to let him have another afternoon of thinking he’s got at least some family, or if I should just go home and be honest.”

“Let’s go be honest.”

Leave it to Cullen to make the decision for her. In another twenty seconds she would have said the same thing. Yet, he beat her to the punch. Still, in this case, it really didn’t matter. Harry would appreciate having Cullen around when he got the news about his dad. Anything else was irrelevant.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

They drove their separate cars to her house. Wendy parked in the driveway beside the babysitter’s SUV. Cullen parked on the tree-lined street in front of her house. The ice from the storm over the weekend had melted. Broken limbs had been cleared away. The sun smiled down from a bright-blue sky, but the air was cold, promising that before too long there would be snow on the ground, a sparkling white blanket for Christmas.

She walked into her warm kitchen, where Mrs. Brennon was setting a mug of steaming hot cocoa beside a plate of iced Christmas cookies for Harry’s after-school snack.

“Mrs. Winston!”

“Hi, Mrs. Brennon. I know I’m early today but I really need to talk with Harry.”

Cullen walked in the kitchen door behind her.

Harry’s face instantly brightened. “Cullen!” He bounced off the chair and raced to Cullen to hug him around the thighs. “I missed you.”

Cullen stooped down. “Hey, kid.”

Harry glanced at Cullen’s topcoat, black suit and silk tie. “Were you at work?”

Cullen nodded. “Yeah. With Wendy.”

Wendy tapped Harry’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why don’t you and Cullen eat those cookies while I spend a minute with Mrs. Brennon?”

“Sure!” Taking Cullen’s hand, Harry led him to the table.

Wendy directed Mrs. Brennon to the front foyer. She explained that they’d gotten the news that Harry’s dad had passed away and they needed to tell him.

Mrs. Brennon’s eyes filled with tears. “How sad for that sweet little boy.”

“I know.”

The babysitter walked to the closet and pulled out her winter coat, mittens and scarf. “I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Thanks. We’ll see you on Monday.”

Mrs. Brennon said goodbye and exited through the front door.

Wendy took a deep breath then walked into the kitchen. Cullen had removed his topcoat and hung it on a hook beside the door. He sat at the table eating cookies with Harry.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Wendy.” Harry peered at her above his glasses. “Cullen likes my cookies better than yours.”

“Well, yours were definitely prettier.” She took another breath. “How about if we go into the living room for a minute to talk about something?”

Harry grabbed two cookies. “Sure.”

He scrambled into the living room ahead of them. Without speaking, Cullen and Wendy followed him. He bounced onto the sofa. Wendy sat on one side. Cullen sat on the other.

“Randy Zamias from social services came to see me today.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “He’s bad.”

“No. He’s trying to look out for your welfare,” Wendy said. “But he also had some news.”

When Harry didn’t answer, Cullen touched his forearm and Harry faced him. “About your dad.”

Harry looked at Wendy. “My dad?”

“Yes, honey. Randy was searching for your dad and he found him. But he’s…Well, he’s…”

“He’s like my mom, isn’t he?”

Wendy nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. He died.”

It took a few seconds for that to really sink in, and when it did, Harry’s little face crumpled and tears welled in his eyes.

Wendy took his free hand, as Cullen grabbed the cookies that were falling from his other hand. Harry hadn’t seen his father since he was three. Technically, he’d lost his dad years ago. Wendy knew his tears weren’t so much from loss, but from fear. Now he was totally alone.

“But this really doesn’t change anything. You and I are together. I’m your mom now.”

His head down, Harry said, “But it’s just us.” Tears dropped to his blue-jean-covered thighs. In the silence, Wendy could hear fat Creamsicle thump down the stairs and amble into the room.

Over Harry’s bowed head, Wendy met Cullen’s gaze. She didn’t have a clue how to respond. She knew exactly what Harry meant. He had lost everyone in his life. With only her as a guardian, how could she promise him that he wouldn’t someday find himself alone again?

Cullen gave her a look that nudged her to be honest. To say what she felt.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you, Harry. I love you.”

Creamsicle picked that exact second to jump up on the sofa and into Harry’s lap. He nuzzled his nose against Harry’s chin. As he did, the little red bell on his collar finally rang.

Harry’s head jerked up. He looked from Cullen to Wendy and back at Creamsicle again. Then he rubbed his face in the thick fur of the cat’s neck. “Thanks, Creamsicle.”

Wendy’s heart splintered. She’d never known her ornery cat to be affectionate with anybody but her, but right at that moment she was abundantly glad he’d taken to Harry.

“Okay,” Cullen said, rising from the sofa. “Since this has been a bad day, I’m going to take you both out to dinner.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Then,” Wendy said, deliberately brightening her voice, not really angry with Cullen for trying to cheer Harry, but noticing again that he never asked. He simply told. “Why don’t we make something fun for supper? Like spaghetti?”

Harry’s sullen expression didn’t change.

Cullen said, “Or hot dogs? We could roast hot dogs here in the fireplace. My dad and I used to do it all the time.”

That perked Harry up. “You did?”

“Sure.”

“And then we’ll make s’mores,” Wendy added, leading the men into the kitchen.

They managed to keep Harry entertained all evening, tiring him out so much that when he finally took a bath and went to bed, he fell asleep immediately.

As they closed the door on his bedroom, Wendy began to feel guilty for judging Cullen so harshly. His behavior that evening had proven he truly liked Harry, and only wanted what was best for the little boy in her care. She should appreciate the fact that Cullen had smoothed things over with Randy and invited them to dinner. After all, it wasn’t as if he were high-handing her into a relationship. He was being kind to her little boy.

Walking down the stairs, Wendy said, “Thanks for your help.”

“You could have handled it.”

That made her feel a little bit better. “Yeah, but your expertise about roasting hot dogs in the fireplace definitely came in handy.”

Thinking he would be leaving, Wendy walked to the front door, but Cullen passed her and returned to the living room. He grabbed the paper plates and chocolate-bar wrappers from the s’mores. As he straightened from the coffee table, he turned to the fireplace mantel and he stopped.

Setting the candy-bar wrappers on the paper plate, he walked over to the mantel, and lifted the picture of Greg holding a fishing pole.

“Is this your husband?”

“Yes.”

“He was a fisherman?” he asked brightly, obviously pleased they had something in common.

Realizing he’d gotten the wrong impression, Wendy snorted a laugh. “Not at all.”

“So there’s a story behind this?”

“Not really. More like a boring joke. Not something you’d be interested in.” She gave what she hoped was a conversation-ending reply, grabbed the napkins from the coffee table and gathered the unopened chocolate bars and graham crackers.

Now that it had sunk in that she was really Harry’s mom, she had yet another reason not to get involved with Cullen. Forget about the fact that he was her boss and they weren’t a good match; too much involvement between her and Cullen meant Harry could be hurt when he returned to Miami. As long as he was just a guy who came to dinner once or twice to visit Harry, Harry would be okay. But if Harry saw her and Cullen being romantic, he’d get all the wrong ideas and a little boy who’d already suffered enough hurt in one lifetime would once again be disappointed. It was best to keep things simple between her and Cullen.

In her peripheral vision, she saw him shake his head, just before he turned and walked through the foyer toward the kitchen.

Carrying the candy bars and graham crackers, she followed him. He dropped his trash into the receptacle, while she stored the extra chocolate and graham crackers in the pantry.

By the time she walked out, Cullen stood by the back door with his topcoat in his hands. Not wanting him to leave with her refusal to talk hanging in the air between them, she took them back to neutral conversational ground. “Thanks again for your help.”

Shrugging into his overcoat, he nodded. “It’s not a problem.”

His voice was gruff, as if her refusal to talk had annoyed him, so she smiled and said, “Still, it’s very kind of you to be so good to Harry.”

“I’m good to Harry because I like him.” He spoke softly, and Wendy quickly glanced over at him. “I like you both.”

His unexpected statement left Wendy with no chance to stop her automatic response to it. Her cheeks flushed. The air in the room evaporated. Joy coursed through her veins. All of which was ridiculous. They could not have a relationship. She shouldn’t even want a relationship with a playboy who would disappear from her life when his work in Barrington was done. But with Harry in the picture, it was doubly wrong.

She quickly turned to the sink again, grabbed a paper towel from the wall-mounted roller and dried her hands. Keeping her voice light and friendly, she said, “We like you, too.”

She heard him take the few steps to the counter and wasn’t surprised when she felt his hands on her shoulders, or that he turned her to face him. “No. I mean I really like you. I feel so at home here.”

Not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed, Wendy laughed. “You lived here. Of course, you feel at home here.”

He shook his head. “This was hardly a home. My parents were rarely around. Which was actually good because when they were here they fought.”

“Your parents fought in front of you?”

“They weren’t much on the decorum of fighting.” He took a breath, as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually admitted that. “My dad wanted to leave Barrington. He knew he could start an investment firm anywhere. But my mom didn’t want to leave her friends. The people who depended on her for their jobs.”

Wendy’s eyes widened. “That’s why you didn’t want to go into the plant alone?”

“No. I’ve simply never been on the plant floor before. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t want to scare anyone. The first morning, when I saw everybody peeking into your office to say good morning in the few minutes before you came into my office to explain why you were late, I knew you were the perfect person to introduce me around.”

That made sense, but she suddenly realized they were standing close, his hands still on her shoulders. Memories of their kiss came tiptoeing back, causing her lips to tingle and her breathing to falter. He was the first man to kiss her since Greg. She’d been alone so long. Empty for so long—

Neither of which made wanting him right. Especially when he was so wrong for her.

She cleared her throat. “I guess I’d better finish cleaning up so I can get up on time for Harry tomorrow.”

He grinned. “You slept in? That’s why you were late Monday morning?”

“It wasn’t funny. I’m trying to be a good parent to Harry, and the very first time he was supposed to be somewhere I slept in.”

“Oh, Wendy,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “You are only human.”

The feeling of being held by a man flooded her system. The joy of the emotional connection with someone who seemed genuinely to like and understand her nearly overwhelmed her. Then the scent of his aftershave filtered to her and she realized her breasts were nestled against his chest. Their thighs brushed. Strong muscles braced her softer form. They fitted together perfectly. And she so wanted to fit with someone again.

She took a breath to bring herself back to reality. She and Cullen didn’t fit. He was a playboy. She wouldn’t get involved with a man who wouldn’t be interested in anything permanent. By Christmas day he’d be gone. If she depended upon him too much, grew accustomed to having him around, or, God forbid, actually fell in love with him, she’d find herself with a broken heart on Christmas morning.

She pulled herself out of Cullen’s warm embrace. “Thanks for your help tonight.” She motioned to the door. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Time suspended for the few seconds it took for Cullen to get her message. It looked as if he might say something, then he turned on his heel and headed for the door. “Good night, Wendy.”

“Good night, Cullen.”

She said the words softly, but it really didn’t matter. He’d already walked out and closed the door. The soft click echoed through her empty kitchen.

Busying herself with finishing the dishes, she ignored the emptiness. She was glad he could help her through some of the initial difficulties with Harry. She wasn’t too proud to refuse the assistance that a scared little boy needed. But she was also smart enough not to get sucked into the daydream that she might be the woman to tame the playboy who owned the company where she worked. She was even smarter not to get involved with another man who would dictate, not discuss. She’d been hurt once and she wouldn’t let it happen again. She had everything she wanted now. A child. And she would never risk hurting Harry.

She dried her hands on a paper towel and threw it in the trash before heading for bed. If she was so smart and had done all the right things, why the hell was she so damned disappointed that he hadn’t argued, but had simply gone?

Which proved she really didn’t mean anything to him.