“Ever think of selling?” Doug asked. “This would make prime real estate.”
“Never.” The answer burst from his chest. This land was his legacy. All he had left. He’d die before he gave it up.
“I think what Noah means is that he loves his home,” Molly said. Noah felt the impact of her glance before she hooked her arm with Sandy’s. “You’re just in time, the Kringles dropped by with fresh-baked apple pie. It was still warm when they left.”
Sandy sighed and closed her eyes in bliss. “That sounds delicious. Lead the way, Doug tuckered me out.” She giggled.
“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Doug murmured. He wrapped a possessive arm around his bride and proceeded to kiss her breathless.
Noah turned away, his arm clenching the wood he still held. “I have work to do.” There was no way he could sit and watch the newlyweds make googly eyes at each other over pie while Molly sat across the table looking so damn beautiful. And unreachable.
“See you at dinner?” she asked, her voice velvet to his senses.
He hesitated, then continued toward the wood pile. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He could resist everything except temptation.
He took out his frustrations on the chopping block, his axe shattering thick chunks of spruce with a few pieces of birch thrown in for variety. He was a fool. A loner who preferred to live his life out of the spotlight, away from relationships. Caring. Caring meant pain, at least in his world. He was better off on his own. Alone.
“Here’s your water,” a timid voice said.
Noah jerked in the middle of a downward swing with the axe and narrowly avoided his leg. Cursing under his breath, he sank the blade in the stump and turned to the kid who stared at him with a mixture of awe and curiosity.
“You’re strong,” Leo said, holding out a bottle. “Will I ever be able to do that?”
He accepted the drink gratefully. “Sure. When you get older.” He twisted the cap off and drank half the bottle in a couple of gulps.
“Will you teach me?” Leo eyed the axe, fascinated.
Noah swallowed wrong and choked.
“You do that a lot, huh?”
He wiped his mouth with his hand and bit back a smile. The kid had balls. Grown men watched what they said around him, but Molly’s son… he had no fear. “I seem to, yeah.”
“So, will ya? Teach me, I mean?” Leo moved a couple of steps closer to the handle sticking out of the wood.
“Not so fast.” He grasped the thin shoulder, then let go just as quick. “Your mom would ground both of us if I let you near that thing. It’s dangerous. I don’t want you touching it unless I say so, understand?”
Leo looked disappointed but nodded. His attention moved to the tree they’d brought home the previous weekend. It sat in a snowbank, the bottom branches blanketing the snow, the crown tilted as though to see why it was stuck in the bank. “Can we decorate the tree, then? Mom says we have to wait for you.”
His instinct was to say no. He didn’t want it, any of it, but the kid was staring at him like he was a superhero, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take that light and squash it. It meant too much to him.
“Help me carry these sticks to the pile and we’ll do it after dinner. Deal?”
Leo’s grin warmed his battered heart.
“Deal.”
Chapter 11
The Hendersons spent most of the afternoon skating, then enjoyed s’mores over a campfire Noah had started after he finished chopping wood. Concerned, Molly broached the subject of fires when they had a private moment.
“Does it bother you?” she asked, setting the tray of marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers on the picnic table. “I noticed you were… shall we say, careful, around the Kringles’ firepit the other night.”
He glanced up from making a teepee out of sticks, his gaze mocking. “You don’t think I have a reason?”
Molly flushed. “Of course, you do. That’s not what I meant.” She crouched nearby and handed him some newspaper. “It’s just that I’m perfectly capable of starting a fire. My dad made sure all of us could handle ourselves outdoors. Not that you’d know it with the mess I made of my car.”
“All of you? Just how many McCartys are there?” He squinted and glanced around as though expecting them to stream out of the woods.
She smiled, amused by his discomfort. “Six siblings. I have two brothers and three sisters. I’m the middle child. My dad was a scout leader. We went to camp every summer until we were teenagers and old enough to get jobs.”
The fire took hold, burning up the side of the teepee with a bright flare of orange gold. Noah fed a few more sticks to the pile and heat began to radiate outward. Molly held her hands toward the flames and embraced the welcoming warmth, then gasped when a muscular arm cut across her body pushing her away from the pit. She overbalanced and sprawled onto her butt.
“Hey,” she cried. Her scowl slowly died at Noah’s grim expression. She ignored the hand he held out, scrambled to her feet, and dusted off her backside. “You could have just said something,” she grumbled. He’d been protecting her. The indignation she’d felt evaporated, leaving a tingling in her breast that had nothing to do with the fire. “I’m sorry, I should have realized.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Noah fingered his scarred lip then glanced toward the Hendersons, laughing and skating without a care in the world.
Hurt her? The only thing hurt was her pride. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t lean over flames anyhow, that’s how accidents happen.” She looked at his strong jaw, the deformity caused by the burns only adding to his attractiveness. He was a survivor. She shivered, imagining the pain and horror of that night.
“Are you cold?” he asked, already removing his denim jacket to settle the heavy weight on her shoulders. He tugged the edges of the wool collar together under her chin and retained his grip. “Better?” His voice dropped an octave. Intimate. Sexy.
“Much,” she whispered, caught up in this man’s undeniable charisma. He’d cut his hair recently, and now it reminded her of a seal’s pelt with its coffee- colored hues accenting a broad forehead, intelligent dark eyes and a strong neck.
“Leo says you agreed to put up the tree tonight. Are you sure? I know this must be a tough Christmas for you.”
His lips tightened, and he let her go. Even as her heart mourned the loss, her head told her it was for the best. Neither one of them was in a good place to be thinking about a relationship. And their partnership compounded the problem.
“It’s fine,” he stated. The male equivalent of whatever. “Life goes on, right? These kids,” he nodded toward the Henderson children taking off their skates, “deserve to enjoy the holiday even if I can’t.”
He was a good man. His road hadn’t been an easy one, but he still retained an innate kindness, even if it was covered by a gruff exterior.
Impulsively, she tugged on his arm and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured as the kids raced up the path from the pond, their parents trailing behind with knowing smiles. And then they were there, oohing and ahhing over the s’mores, and the private moment was gone. Molly pretended not to regret the loss.
The conversation at the dinner table was lively. Molly had somehow found the time to cook a pot roast, complete with mashed potatoes, seasonal vegetables and fresh dinner rolls. Dessert consisted of pumpkin pie or apple crisp. Noah finished his pie, set the fork on his plate and rested, more content than he’d been in a very long time.
The children, done with their supper, had retired to the den to impatiently wait on the adults to decorate the tree. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind the thought. He’d moved the crooked balsam to its stand in the living room after the skate party this afternoon leaving time for it to thaw, and already a spicy, minty scent permeated the house.
“Oh, he’s a beauty.” Ruby Henderson gushed over a photo on Sandy Anderson’s cell phone. “Look at those colors.”
Sandy handed th
e phone to Molly. “He wasn’t impressed with us interrupting his solitude.”
Molly shifted in her seat and leaned against Noah’s shoulder so she could show him the photo. The brush of her hair tickled his cheek, her warm weight distracting him from the conversation. He turned his head and their breaths mingled. Her eyes darkened, awareness lancing between them like an electric surge.
“Did you ever see anything so blue?” Ruby asked.
“Never,” Noah murmured, his attention never straying from Molly.
“I think she’s talking about the jay,” she murmured.
“Hmm?”
She held up the phone and he dragged his gaze away from her face long enough to see the photo of a blue jay glaring at the camera from the branch of an aspen tree. Amused, he took the phone and dutifully admired the shot.
“Looks like he wasn’t impressed with your photography session,” he said, handing the device back. “Their screech is deafening.”
Doug nodded. “So we found out. Didn’t take us long to ski out of his territory, I’ll tell you.”
Everyone had a good laugh, then Molly rose to remove the dishes. Noah stood too, reluctant to leave her alone with the chore. Just as he picked up his plate a loud crash came from the den. He looked at Molly’s startled gaze, set the dish down, and rushed from the room, concern for Leo causing his heart to pound.
Just as he’d figured, the tree lay on its side, a puddle of water already spreading from the stand. The kids were clustered near the crown, staring at something on the floor. They looked up, frightened when they saw him in the doorway.
He spotted Leo laying awkwardly on the floor and his heart leaped into his throat. “What happened?” he growled, hurrying across the room in three long strides. He crouched by Leo’s head and the other kids backed away.
“He… he fell. We didn’t mean to break it, Mister. We didn’t.” The little girl started to sob.
The adults had entered the room by now and were gathered around them. Molly dropped to her knees beside her son and scooped him into her arms. “Oh, Leo. How could you? You could have been seriously injured.”
Leo’s terrified gaze was fixed on Noah, his eyes too big for his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
It was only a tree. Noah was more concerned about the child. Thank God he didn’t seem…
Molly held up the tattered body of his aunt’s Christmas angel, the wings mangled and missing an arm.
Memories swamped him. His aunt’s off-key singing as she handed him the handmade decorations they’d done together sitting at her kitchen table. The times she’d rocked him to sleep after he’d woken up crying from nightmares of the fire and the loss of his parents. All the little things she’d done to open her home to a lonely little boy. One who’d been too scared to tell her how much she meant to him until it was too late—she was gone.
And now, so was her angel.
He rose and walked out of the room, leaving a deathly silence in his wake.
Chapter 12
Molly sat on the side of Leo’s bed and watched over him until he fell asleep. He sported a bump on the back of his head, but otherwise had escaped unharmed from the escapade. Apparently, he’d wanted to surprise her with the tree topper so the three kids had come up with the ingenious idea of stacking a stool on top of a chair. Since Leo was the youngest, and the smallest, they’d voted for him to climb the makeshift ladder. It went well until he had to stretch to place the angel on the crooked branch and it wouldn’t stay. When it fell, he looked down, got scared, grabbed the tree for support, and toppled over.
She hadn’t seen Noah since the accident. He’d been as concerned as she was for Leo. She’d seen it in his expression and the careful way he’d checked her son for injuries. But the ruined angel had destroyed him. She felt horrible. Obviously, it held a special significance for him. In the morning she’d take a closer look and see if there was a way to repair the damage.
Sighing, she leaned over, gently brushed back the fine hair so like his father’s and kissed Leo’s forehead. He murmured in his sleep, then rolled over and clutched Boo to his side. Her heart clenched. It wouldn’t be long before the tattered teddy bear ended up stuffed on a shelf and sports gear would fill the floor. Her boy was growing up.
Molly shut off the bedside lamp and made sure his nightlight filled the room with dinosaur images, then slipped out, leaving the door cracked so she could hear him if he needed her in the night.
The closed door at the opposite end of the hall beckoned and a moment later she stood in front of its wooden panels, her hand raised to knock. Except, what could she say? Too much had happened to Noah. He’d closed himself off and she didn’t know how to reach him.
Maybe, he wouldn’t want her to try.
Her fingers brushed the cool wood before she turned away. Their relationship had barely started, she hardly knew him, and yet, the loss was keen.
As though her thoughts had called him to her, the door opened and Noah faced her, his eyebrow raised. “Problem?”
Now that he was there, shirtless and rumpled-looking, she was tongue-tied. Farm life suited him. Her mouth dried as she took in the thick neck and shoulders, powerful arms and delineated abdominal muscles.
“Molly?”
Oh boy, the way he said her name… Butterflies danced in her stomach.
“Molly, what’s wrong?” He reached out and drew her into his room, closing the door.
Dark furniture, hard wood floors and a king-sized bed dominated the space. She focused on their clasped hands and frowned, fighting to retain a sense of normalcy. “Actually, I was going to ask you that question.” She looked up and caught him eyeing her chest. She flushed and tugged free of his grip. “I was… worried when you disappeared earlier. Leo feels awful. He thinks he ruined Christmas.”
Instead of reassuring her, Noah turned away and reached for a black Henley long sleeved shirt. Her breath caught as he slid it over his head, the muscles in his shoulders rippling with strength. “I needed some time. Is he okay? He’s lucky you picked a sapling instead of a real tree.”
Molly smiled. “It has character. Just wait until we deco…” She stopped. If they decorated. “He has a bump on his head. I kept him awake for a couple of hours just to be safe, but I think his pride was hurt more than anything. He was showing off for the other two children.”
Noah’s lips quirked. “Or the girl, anyway.”
“Umm, he’s five.” She loved the easy banter between them. He had a dry wit she found attractive. There were many things about Noah Kincaid that appealed to her.
“I guess I overreacted,” he admitted, his gaze watchful. “The angel meant a lot to me. It was my aunt’s.”
She nodded, hoping he would share more with her. “She raised you, then? After the…?”
He grimaced and once again touched the scar running down his face like a brand. “Fire? Yeah. There was no one else and she refused to see me end up in the foster system.” He gestured to the end of his bed, then sat beside her—close, but not near enough.
He picked up her hand and played with her fingers, the rough callouses sending delicious shivers coursing over her body. “I was about your son’s age when it happened.” She gasped, her heart hurting for the boy he’d been. “At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening. Our house wasn’t that big. My bedroom was on the main floor while Mom and Dad slept upstairs.” He met her gaze and smiled. “She didn’t trust me not to sleepwalk, I guess I liked to cause problems even back then.”
Molly squeezed his hand. “They loved you.”
“Yeah,” he snorted, “look where that got them.”
She couldn’t let him shoulder the blame for another minute without at least trying to ease his pain. She wrapped her arms around his stiff, unyielding frame and whispered, “It brought them peace, Noah.”
At first he didn’t react, then slowly the tension eased from his shoulders and she felt him let go of years of repressed self-hatred.
She blinked away tears and continued to hold onto the little boy within the man she’d come to love.
Chapter 13
Molly was up early the next morning. She’d been unable to sleep after her momentous discovery that she had fallen in love. While Noah had taken a step on the long road to recovery, PTSD was a lifetime battle. If it was only herself… Molly had a child to protect. She didn’t for one second think Noah would intentionally harm a fly, but the moods were worrisome. Leo was a sensitive boy. He’d already picked up on Noah’s animosity and was bothered by it.
She filled her cup with coffee and joined their guests at the round country-style table in the breakfast nook. “What are your plans for today?” she asked, sliding onto the end of the banquette seating. As late as they were into the winter equinox, the sun had just now peaked over the ridge in the distance. A thin ribbon of pale blue sky drifted across the horizon on either side—lovely, a chinook was on the way. Perfect snowman weather.
“We read your brochure. The kids want to see the giant thirty-five-foot Santa Claus, and then we promised we’d stop by the post office so they could mail their friends cards postmarked from Christmas.” Ruby smiled and stole a piece of bacon off her husband’s plate. He grimaced, but good-naturedly turned the plate so she could reach the rest more easily.
“We saw a library downtown and thought we’d stop by and read up on the town’s history,” Sandy said, reaching over to brush her husband’s mouth in a lingering kiss. “Doug is fascinated by the iron kilns we passed on the way into town. It looks as though it might have been a big operation at one time.”
Mistletoe Inn Page 5