by Janet Dailey
Paula set the hairbrush on the windowsill.
Zach walked over and gently cupped her shoulders. The weight of his big hands soothed her nervousness but not for long. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, then rested his chin on top of it. Keeping his gaze on hers in the dark window, he slipped his hands around her waist.
Paula removed them. “Stop it, cowboy. We went about as far as I’m going to go.”
He took several steps back, allowing her to turn around without having to touch him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that.”
She breathed sharply before she spoke. “I did. It’s just that . . . this isn’t the place.”
And that he might be in a committed relationship and emotionally unavailable. She never allowed herself to be stupid for longer than five minutes if she could help it.
She held up a hand, fast. “And I’m driving home alone, before you ask. I don’t think you’re all that concerned with my safety.”
Zach shook his head. “Not true, but have it your way.”
“Thanks.”
“What now?” he asked.
She picked up the tote bag, forgetting the hairbrush, and exited the room. “We leave.”
He followed her down the hall to the top of the stairs, taking two steps for every four of hers. As Paula rested her hand on the banister, he put his over it. “Hold up. And sit down.”
“Here?”
“Yes. I always thought stairs were a good place to talk.”
She looked down the three flights, feeling a touch of dizziness. “Okay. You could be right about that.” For one thing, she wouldn’t have to look at him.
Paula sat on the topmost stair as he eased himself down beside her. She moved a few inches away and set the tote bag between them. The weight of the laptop made it thunk down.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“Go ahead.”
“Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Won’t work,” Paula muttered. “It did.”
“Okay. Here’s another suggestion. We stay friends around here but we could, oh, go out on a date when we have the time. I think it would be a good idea to get to know each other a little better. Maybe we rushed things. But it was only a kiss.”
A silent moment passed.
She didn’t want to ask him about the snapshot she’d handed back to him.
“I really don’t know what to do,” she blurted out. “Every time you were around, I made sure I was busy—too busy to think about anything like this. It wasn’t exactly a strategy but it worked pretty well. Until now.”
“You knew I was alone when you came up to the attic.”
“Yeah. I’m a big girl. Like you say, it was only a kiss.”
“Actually, it was two. Maybe two and a half kisses.”
Zach rested his arms on his bent knees. His sleeves were rolled up to just below the elbows. She could see the muscles move when he clasped his hands.
“I don’t want to read too much into it.” She also didn’t want to tell Zach that she’d never been kissed like that in her entire life.
“No,” he agreed. “Me neither.”
Paula stood up. “So is this conversation over?”
“Looks like it.” He stood up too. Paula was annoyed that he seemed not in the least rattled. She covered by going down the stairs almost too quickly for Zach to keep up.
“Here we are,” she said when she reached the first floor. Zach went to the closet, his long strides outpacing hers, and found her coat.
He held it out. She would have to turn around and slide her arms into the sleeves to put it on. Paula gave in. If he insisted on treating her like a lady, she might as well act like one.
She put the tote bag on the decorated table in the entry hall. He helped her into her coat. He seemed to be the soul of propriety. He could have been her married cousin from Missoula, except a whole lot handsomer. And not completely taken.
“You’re all set,” he said cheerfully. “Got the keys?”
He wasn’t looking at her as he dragged his denim jacket off a hanger and reached high on the shelf for his Stetson. In a couple of swift shrugs, the jacket was on him, covering his broad shoulders and arms but open in front. He clapped the hat on his head, adjusting the brim to a slight angle by touch.
And then he stood there, his hands in the pockets of his jeans again. Looking way too sexy. Grinning like a cowboy who’d just gotten exactly what he wanted. Paula had only herself to blame.
“Yes,” she said mechanically. “Would you mind holding the door open?”
“Not at all.”
She walked past him, keys in her hand, and stopped outside. Zach came out and pulled the door closed. A police car came down the street and slowed. The window was rolled down by an officer she couldn’t see, at the wheel next to his partner for the shift.
“Hey, Paula,” he called. The voice, she knew. “We just went around the back. Looks good. Only a truck and your car in the lot.”
“Okay.” She held up the keys. “We’re just locking up now.”
“We’ll be back,” the officer said. “Every hour on the hour until dawn.”
“Super. Thanks.”
“Friends of yours?” Zach asked.
Paula nodded. “And colleagues, obviously. I asked the sergeant if we could get a patrol car to drive by more often. You heard what he said.”
“Good idea.” Zach looked after the police car as it drove away. “Does Edith know?”
“I mentioned it this afternoon. I’m not sure she was really listening. She seemed tired. She’s here for the better part of the day and every evening.”
“That’s commitment,” Zach said.
“She says it’s plain crazy. I’m beginning to understand what she means.”
“Then you need some time off,” he said pleasantly.
“Like that’s going to happen around the holidays,” Paula scoffed. “Not for a cop.” She went down the stairs, holding the wrought-iron railing and keeping her tote bag with the laptop in the other hand.
A little distance was what she needed right now.
They said good night once they were in the parking lot. Paula got into her car and left the window rolled up. She looked straight ahead as she exited, not at him, just in case he didn’t get the idea.
If she ever had a free hour to herself again, she probably shouldn’t spend it with a man who might have other commitments. One kiss—one fabulous kiss—still didn’t change the fact that they were both going back to their ordinary lives when all the holiday hoopla was over and done with. Her in Denver. Him at the ranch.
The swing of high-set headlights made her glance at her rearview mirror. Zach was going the opposite way. She felt a twinge of regret when the pickup’s taillights disappeared around a corner.
Paula snapped on the radio. She turned the volume down low, not listening to the music, and drove home to her apartment.
Her cell phone chimed with an incoming text before she got there. Paula pulled into her slot and put the car in park. She looked at the message on the screen. Zach.
Not sorry. That was amazing. See you in my dreams.
How romantic. What could she say to that? She settled for a straightforward reply, texting rapidly.
Let’s stick with a date, Zach. What do you want to do?
His answer popped up quickly.
Ever been skiing?
She grinned and texted back.
Only in my dreams.
Zach’s eyes looked even bluer in the brilliant sunlight bouncing off the snow at Winter Park. Ski goggles were shoved up over his forehead, making his tousled dark hair stand straight up. There was a ruddy glow to his skin from the fresh air.
“This is great,” he said, looking around. “We were spending too much time indoors and working too late.”
Paula frowned. “I still have to. Did I forget to tell you I just got put on the graveyard shift again?”
“I guess so. You slept all th
e way out here.”
“Directives from on high. The sergeant has instructions from the brass to get the downtown drunks and rowdies under control after the bars let out.”
Zach lifted the goggles and rubbed his forehead. “Who’s riding with you?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m not looking forward to it.” She teetered slightly, then used the ski poles she was clutching to stand up straight again.
“At least you’re here for the day. Just look at all that fresh powder. I can’t believe you grew up in Denver and never learned how to ski.”
An hour and a half to the west of Denver, the mountain scenery was breathtaking. She wasn’t looking at it.
“Don’t rub it in.” She looked down at her rented skis. “So how do these work again? I can’t seem to get the hang of it.”
“You point the tips downhill,” Zach said patiently. “Then bend your knees slightly. Hold the poles and tuck your arms in. Gravity will do the rest.”
“I hate gravity. I already fell down five times.”
Paula lifted the poles, flailed wildly, and collapsed. Zach, to his credit, didn’t laugh. But he had to be biting his tongue.
She just lay there. The soft snow was melting fast inside the padded collar of her down jacket. She should have worn something with a hood instead of the thick knit headband that looked so cute. Dimly, Paula remembered wanting to show off the auburn glory of her hair.
Zach towered over her, looking up into the limitless blue sky. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m not hurt or anything. Thanks for asking.”
“Come on.” He reached over and hauled her up. “Try again.”
“I’m afraid of the mountain.”
“That’s not a mountain. It’s a mountainette. You can do it.”
She stepped awkwardly in the skis, afraid to glide, hoping no one was watching. The only other skiers on the bunny slope were kids. They seemed to be having a great time.
Cautiously, she approached the three-foot-high mound of packed snow.
“Go for it,” Zach called from where he was standing.
Paula took a deep breath and crouched slightly. Then she dug in her poles, pointed her skis downhill, and took off. To her amazement, she stayed up, gliding to a stop thirty feet away from the mound.
She whooped with joy and raised a pole to wave at Zach. Then she fell down again. But this time she didn’t care.
Paula stuck with it. She stayed on the bunny slopes while Zach went off to do some real skiing. He patted her cheek with a massive glove and wished her well before he headed for the lift. She couldn’t possibly see him in action, which was just as well. He looked too damn good in skiwear.
There was just enough time for cocoa by the lodge fireplace when they were both done. Zach brought over the cups and two spoons and set them down on the low table.
“Feeling it yet?” he asked her. She shot him a puzzled look. “I’m talking about the aches and pains,” he said.
“None so far. Maybe I’m just numb with cold.”
He smiled. “It did you a lot of good to get out. You’re really glowing.”
“Sometimes I have to be dragged,” Paula said. “Kicking and screaming.”
Zach only shrugged. “All I heard was the word yes.” His intent gaze warmed her more than the fire in front of them.
Paula plunked a spoon in her cup and stirred it for something to do. “The cocoa looks heavenly. Thanks.” She took a sip. “Wow.”
“Can’t beat marshmallows and hot milk and chocolate for a flavor combo.”
They sat back on the long, low couch. On a weekday at this hour, they had the lodge almost to themselves.
Paula got comfortable. They drank without saying much more, until Zach looked over at the clock near the bar. “Almost time to get you back to Denver,” he said.
“Wish I didn’t have to.” Paula set down her cup and looked at him sideways. “It’s so nice to just play and relax and do nothing. Not that I don’t love my job.”
“You don’t have to love it all the time,” Zach said. He rested a hand on his leg and stretched out the other along the back of the sofa. “Come on. Cuddle up. You’re safe.”
“From what?” She stayed where she was.
“Just come over here. This is the end of our first official date, and we are in a public area. Also, we have an audience. There are two little girls over there staring at us and hoping something interesting will happen. There is no way I’m going to kiss you.”
Paula laughed and nestled against him. She curled up her legs and got even more comfortable. The little girls were led away by their mother, looking backward one last time to see Zach stroke her hair as she looked at the fire.
“How’s that?” he asked softly.
Paula murmured with contentment and let it go at that. She didn’t say the words that came to mind. It feels wonderful. I want it to last.
Chapter 6
The front door of the Christmas House had been left unlocked when Paula arrived the next day. It was early in the afternoon, too early for there to be many visitors. The volunteer who’d replaced Norville, a retired cop named Chuck Barbera whom she knew slightly, wasn’t at the table. She walked into the empty front hall, unwinding the scarf around her neck—the weather had turned bitter cold.
No one seemed to be around, although she could hear the high voices of a few children upstairs. Paula set down her tote bag and looked at the box on the table. She lifted the lid. The slotted cash drawer was gone.
“Planning a heist?” Chuck’s dry laugh made her turn around. “I got the money.”
“Oh . . . good. For a second I didn’t know what to think.” She took off her coat and went back to the front closet to hang it up, keeping the scarf. The Christmas House felt drafty.
“Just seemed easier to take the drawer with me,” Chuck explained, sliding it back in the box and resuming his station. “I was looking at the new installation upstairs. Things are slow.”
“It might be a good idea to lock the front door if you or someone else isn’t here,” Paula pointed out.
“Edith gave me a bell for visitors to ring if I had to step away.” He lifted a large metal bell and shook it vigorously.
Paula winced. “It’s loud. But we could use a better system.” She thought for a second. “We could do a webcam feed to a smartphone. Do you have one?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll look into setting something up. We can use a refurbed laptop. Just so long as it has a built-in camera.”
“All right.”
Paula tugged the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her wrists. “Brrr. Is there something the matter with the heat?”
“The boiler is acting up, now that you mention it. Edith said there’s a man coming to look at it today. She went out to do some shopping.”
That might mean an expensive repair. But they were doing well in terms of cash flow. “Good. Who’s in today?”
Chuck slid the schedule toward her. She scanned the entry for the day, noting that Brandon was marked down for one to five. Paula’s brow furrowed. Unless the high school was closing early, he shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t like Edith to cut him slack on school attendance.
“Where’s Brandon?”
“That young man is upstairs in the Elf Shop. He brought a visitor with him.”
“Oh?”
Paula looked more closely at the calendar. Next to Brandon’s name was a penciled-in addition in tiny, faint handwriting. Tabitha. No last name.
There was no specific policy on volunteers bringing in other people. They needed one. Paula added that to her mental to-do list. The Christmas House staff had to be vetted.
“She seemed like a nice young lady,” Chuck said. “About his age, I would guess.”
“What I’m wondering is why they aren’t in school,” Paula replied.
“I asked him that. He said something about a teacher day, whatever that is.”
Chuck and his wife didn’t have kids, Paula knew.
He might be easy to fool. She took her laptop out of her bag and got it going, typing quickly when the screen came to life. She entered the name of Brandon’s school in the search bar and added calendar .
A PDF of a grid with the school’s logo at the top downloaded slowly. Paula waited. Today’s date showed nothing but a white square. She turned the laptop toward Chuck. “He was lying.”
Chuck frowned. “Sorry to hear that. I took him at his word.”
“It’s okay,” Paula said. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Paula stepped softly on the stairs. The Elf Shop was the first room off the landing. When she reached it, she heard a female voice, young and giggly.
Paula hesitated. Brandon really wasn’t supposed to be here and she had no idea who Tabitha was. But they had put down their names in plain sight. And playing hooky wasn’t a serious infraction. She didn’t want to storm in and confront him.
At least he was here and surrounded by adults. She could keep an eye—or ear—on him until she found Edith.
She took the tote bag next door, into the room with the Twelve Days of Christmas display. The animated birds and animals and figures of lords and ladies were still and silent. There was no sense in having everything going at all times. The noise would be overwhelming. The young children she’d heard when she entered passed by the door and went down the stairs with whoever was looking after them. It was quiet again.
Paula unfolded a chair and a tiny table, and opened the laptop to start looking up prices for refurbished laptops. The conversation in the next room drifted in.
“I don’t want to do homework. Let’s go on Facebook,” Brandon said to his guest.
“Okay.”
Paula heard keys click. So they had a laptop too. It must belong to the girl. Edith was planning to get Brandon one for Christmas.
“This one’s cute. That was me last Halloween. Read my wall.”
Brandon obliged. “ ‘My mommy and daddy went out to party,’ ” he said in a singsong imitation of her voice. “ ‘To-tall-y clueless. They’re not allowed to friend me, because they keep saying they’re not my friends—they’re my parents.’ ”