Читать книгу Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas - SUSAN MEIER - Страница 14

THAT night, after tucking Harry beneath a soft comforter and kissing him goodnight, Wendy ambled into her living room. In need of a little comfort herself, she made a fire in the fireplace, found a book and curled up on her sofa.

She read for only twenty minutes before the events of the day weighed down on her. She hadn’t meant to insult Cullen. She’d thought she was protecting herself. Which was just more proof that they were too different to get involved. So different she’d seen his kindness as an attempt to buy her favors and embarrassed herself.

Wondering what he saw when he looked at her, at her life, she glanced around his former home. Her sofa and chair were simple beige. The area rug atop the hardwood floors she and Greg had refinished was a modern print in soft yellow, cream and green that brought the room to life. The walls had been painted a pale yellow.

It was a soothing room, a calm room, but it wasn’t elegant. She couldn’t even imagine the kind of home he lived in in Miami. But he hadn’t looked down on her or her things the Saturday he’d stayed with her. He’d joined in her fun with Harry, working to make Harry happy. He’d slept on the floor without complaint and even cooked for her and Harry.

She frowned. Technically, with the exception of kissing her, everything he’d done had been for Harry. When he’d stepped into the conversation with Randy Zamias, when he’d said they shouldn’t wait to tell Harry his father had passed, when he’d volunteered to take them out to dinner—all those things had been for Harry. And maybe he hadn’t been pushy or domineering, simply desperate to help? As out of his element with the little boy as Wendy had been, he’d made a few mistakes.

So had she.

Yet she’d taken everything personally. Forgetting, or maybe not even noticing, that at the office and in their private conversations, he’d always been a perfect gentleman.

Running her hands down her face in misery, she rose from the sofa to make a cup of hot cocoa, but a blood-curdling scream sounded from upstairs. She dropped her book to the coffee table, raced upstairs and burst into Harry’s room.

Sitting in the center of the bed, Harry sobbed. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and she could see the tears that poured down his cheeks. She sat on the edge of his bed and he leaped into her open arms.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.”

Sobs racked his small frame and he clung to her. “No, it’s not!”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“I want Cullen.”

Surprised, she pulled in a breath. Not only did it sting that her comfort wasn’t enough, but also she wasn’t really sure Cullen would come. “It’s late. He’s at his hotel.”

“He said if I ever needed him I could call.”

“I’m sure he meant it but it’s—”

“I want Cullen!”

He clutched her upper arms tighter and pressed his face in her shoulder, his tears wetting her T-shirt.

Wendy stroked his soft hair. She had to at least try. “All right. I’ll call him.”

Cullen didn’t ask for details. Hearing Harry had had a nightmare and was inconsolable, he raced to Wendy’s house. She opened the door before he even knocked. She didn’t mention their argument. He didn’t either. What happened between them was between them. What happened with Harry wasn’t just separate, at the moment it was the only thing that mattered.

“How is he?”

As she led him up the stairs, Wendy said, “Once I called you he stopped crying. So it must have been the right thing to do.”

“Let me see what’s going on.”

He stepped into the little room that had been his own when he and his parents had lived in the house. The bright-blue walls he remembered had been repainted a soothing blue. Trains and dump trucks decorated the comforter. The base of the lamp was in the shape of a football.

Sitting up on the bed, partially covered by the thick blanket and sliding a small plastic car on his thigh, Harry said, “Hi, Cullen.”

He sat on the bed. “Hey.” He ruffled Harry’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Without looking up, he said, “I had a nightmare.”

“What kind of a nightmare?”

Harry shrugged.

“Monsters?”

He glanced up. “No.”

“Then what?”

“Kids at school.”

“Are the kids at school bothering you?”

He shrugged again. “Some.”

“Just some?”

“Just one.”

“Who is that?”

“Freddie.”

“Is he hurting you?”

“No. He just told me I was an organ and nobody wanted me.”

Not feeling the need to tell him organ was probably orphan, Cullen reached over and hugged Harry, then drew him onto his lap. “Wendy wants you so much that she was willing to go to court for you. Why do you think Randy Zamias gives your mom so much trouble?”

Standing just outside the doorway, Wendy leaned against the wall. She wondered if Cullen had slipped up in calling her Harry’s mom, but doubted it. He was a very smart guy. He realized Harry needed reassurance, continuity and he was giving it to him in the most subtle way.

Harry twisted to look up into Cullen’s face. “Because he wants me?”

“No. Because he needed to be sure the right person has you.”

Running the car up his pajama-clad thigh, Harry said, “Did kids tease you when you were in school?”

Watching Cullen’s facial features harden, Wendy’s brow furrowed. She’d never considered what it might have been like for him to live in the town where his dad’s grandparents started the company that provided jobs for nearly everyone in town and his mom was the president who ran it. But it must not have been a joyful experience. Otherwise, his expression wouldn’t have gone from sympathetic to hard in an automatic reaction he hadn’t had time to stop.

Thinking back to his first day at the plant, she remembered that he wouldn’t go onto the plant floor without introductions and none of the employees had treated him normally. Men had grunted hellos. Women had giggled.

Wendy had treated him normally, but only because he’d stayed at her house the night of the ice storm. And she wasn’t from Barrington. She’d only moved here four years ago. She had no idea how he’d been treated as a child.

“Yes, kids teased me. But not for the reasons you think. My mom was sort of everybody’s boss. When I got into third grade, the kids thought it would be cool to hit me and stuff.”

Wendy smiled at the way he brought the language of his conversation to Harry’s level.

“Our neighbor down the street, my dad’s partner in the candy store, waited for me one day after school and set them straight.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “He did?”

“Yep. He handed me a brand-new ball and bat, with nine mitts. Enough for an entire team.”

“Wow.”

“Then he told the kids who’d gathered around us that if we wanted to become a Little League team he would coach us.”

“Wow.”

Cullen laughed. “He’d coached his own kids, but they’d outgrown Little League and he hadn’t.”

Wendy tilted her head to the side as a clear image of that day formed in her head. She could see eight-year-old Cullen being teased and tormented, and a family friend stepping in to help him because apparently neither of his parents had noticed.

A shudder of sadness passed through her. He’d been as alone as Harry. But he probably hadn’t been an easy mark. She couldn’t imagine that even as a child he’d let anybody push him around, but she also knew most children weren’t equipped to defend themselves against a gang.

A sudden realization swamped her. He’d spent most of his life in this town alone, a child constantly being forced to prove himself. Only she had treated him normally. Until Friday night when he had asked about her husband and tried to kiss her a second time, then everything had changed. She’d put her back up and refused to talk, wanting to protect herself. But even though she had explained that, she had nonetheless become another person from Barrington who treated him coolly. Then she’d made the ultimate mistake by accusing him of trying to buy her. Lord, could she have been any more wrong?

Harry shook his head. “Freddie already has a mitt.”

“And you don’t need to buy gifts to make friends. You said only he teases you. do the other kids like you?”

He nodded.

“Then you’re just going to have to ignore Freddie.”

Glad he hadn’t told Harry to punch Freddie, Wendy breathed a sigh of relief. Fighting wasn’t the answer. But she also wouldn’t let Freddie get off scot-free. She’d have a discussion with the principal in the morning.

Harry began rolling the little car along his thigh again. “Do you miss your mom?”

“Sure. But not the same way you do. I don’t need my mom to take care of me. You do. So part of what you feel is fear. Especially fear of being alone.”

He nodded.

“Wendy’s not going to leave you alone. All you have to do is believe in her.”

Harry looked up. His blue eyes connected with Cullen’s dark ones. The trust that Wendy saw in them nearly stole her breath. “Okay.”

“And any time you get afraid, I want you to call me.”

“Okay.”

“In fact,” Cullen said, reaching over, opening the bedside-table drawer and retrieving a pen and a little tablet. “This is my cell phone number.”

Harry grinned. “You have a cell phone? Jimmy Johnson has a cell phone.”

He placed the tablet and pen on the bedside table. “Well, now you have my number.You can call me any time. Day or night.”

They were quiet for several seconds before Cullen said, “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tuck you in.”

Rather than laying him down, Cullen switched the mood of their discussion by tossing Harry to the bed. The little boy landed in the middle, his head slightly askew on the pillow. He giggled then said, “Thanks, Cullen.”

“Hey, any time.”

Cullen pulled the covers to Harry’s chin, kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. “Go to sleep now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Wendy ducked out of the doorway before Cullen turned in her direction. She raced down the steps as quietly as possible, ran into the living room and fell to her couch, not wanting Cullen to know she’d listened in.

A few seconds later he appeared at the doorway. “I think I have him settled.”

“Thank you.”

“He only wanted reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.” He rolled his shoulders, as if to loosen their tightness. “I gave him my cell phone number.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t think he’ll bother me. He’s in school all day so he doesn’t have a lot of access to a phone. Even after school he’s with a babysitter until you get home.” He met her gaze. “But if he wants to call me forty-six times a day until he’s comfortable, I can handle it.”

She smiled slightly, feeling like a real jerk for being so wrong about him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned and walked into the foyer. Wendy scrambled from the sofa and to the door before he opened it.

“I know this was a huge imposition, so I appreciate it.”

“Again, you’re welcome.”

The foyer became quiet. Wendy searched her brain for something to say, but there was nothing, unless she wanted to apologize once more for misunderstanding about the raise. And she didn’t care to bring up that particular misery again.

Not sure what else to do, she looked up and found him staring at her, studying her.

She knew he was probably wondering how she could be so dense, and she shook her head. “Look, for two people who got off on the right foot, I know I’ve made a real mess of things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. You’ve been nothing but nice to both me and Harry and I’ve been…well…odd.” She pulled in a breath. “You’re not like my husband. Not that he didn’t have his good points, but when he died, leaving me alone, I got angry. I obviously jumped to some wrong conclusions about you and I’m sorry. I don’t normally take that anger out on people.”

“But it made you cautious.”

She nodded.

“Maybe you should be cautious.”

She smiled. “Are you warning me off?”

“Yes.”

The seriousness of his voice caused her stomach to tighten. She caught his gaze again. His dark eyes virtually glowed, sending a sizzle of electricity through her. If she touched him, she had the feeling he’d be lost.

“I’m not the kind of guy to settle down and you are absolutely the kind of woman to settle down. Even if you didn’t have Harry, I would know it. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you. And you’re not too far off the mark about me being pushy. When I want something I go after it. And right now I want you.”

She licked her lips at the severity of his tone and took a step back.

“Forget all about your first impression and stick with the worry that I’m enough like your husband that you shouldn’t get involved with me. We’ll both be happier, if only because you don’t want to get hurt and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Swallowing, she caught his gaze. “You don’t have to warn me. I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl.”

“Not big enough to play in my league.”

With that he turned and walked out of her house. Wendy stood in her foyer a long time, every cell in her body tingling. Not just because he was an attractive man, but because he’d admitted that he was so attracted to her he was having difficulty stopping himself from doing what he wanted.

She absolutely knew that feeling. Just being in the same room with him made her blood hum in her veins. She hadn’t felt this good, this alive, in years. Though the Miss Goody Two-shoes in her told her to back off, the promise in his soft voice and sensual eyes told her not to listen. She wanted this, and for once in her life she didn’t want to walk away wishing things could have been different. For once in her life, she’d simply like to enjoy the moment. Do what she wanted to do instead of what she knew was the “right” thing to do. For once in her life she didn’t want to be Miss Goody Two-shoes.

But she didn’t really know how to be anybody else.