She was talking nonstop now, and she always got that way when she was nervous. Taking a deep breath, Holly added, “Do you think you could do a trade, Nick? Would that suit you?” Holly held her breath never wanting more than for him to say, “Yes.”
“I’m signed up for a computer science degree here at the local community college. It’s a two-year degree. I’m taking classes, but some of them I can get downloaded onto my computer. The rest, I have to be there in person.”
“Of course,” she murmured. “I understand.”
“The government is paying for my college degree, which is a godsend for me under the circumstances. And I could use a part-time job like you’re offering me.”
Her heart did a flip. “Oh, great! I’m so excited, Nick! Thank you so much for doing this! Would you like to come over and see the apartment tonight? You and Snowflake? See if he likes it, too?”
Holly knew how excited she got and she was probably scaring off the guy. Nick seemed so quiet, reticent, and thoughtful. He probably thought she was a yo-yo without a string to pull her back together. She grinned, unable to stop the joy from bubbling up through her.
“Sure, I know where you’re located. It will take me about fifteen minutes. See you then.”
Holly felt a magical, invisible connection between them and sensed his sudden happiness; she could hear how his tone lightened. A thrill raced through her. She knew he would be a hard, responsible worker because his mother had told her, and she knew military people much better than anyone ever realized, even Sue. Holly understood the hope she heard in Nick’s voice—it was as if she were throwing him a life preserver in that roiling, black sea of feelings that constantly tossed him around.
CHAPTER 2
Holly saw the headlights of a car turn into the parking area next to the Delos Charity building. From her apartment at the end of the building, she had a full view of the area. A few minutes later, the low-wattage street lamps revealed Nick Conway and Snowflake approaching the building. Snowflake was on a six-foot leash. He was panting and looked happy. Her gaze moved to Nick, who was hunched over in a black, nylon winter coat that fell just below his hips. He wore a black baseball cap on his short hair and she was sure his ears were freezing. The man wasn’t wearing a muffler or gloves, either. She knew how cold Afghanistan could become and his body was probably still acclimated to that harsh, cold weather, instead of the milder winters they were accustomed to in this part of Montana. But then again, Montana winters could also be pretty brutal.
Holly noticed Nick looking around, ever alert. She knew it was a natural reaction for a WMD handler out at the front of his platoon, although he was no longer in that level of danger. It was Nick’s responsibility to keep the men behind him safe. Holly wasn’t sure she could ever do that kind of job because the danger was constant. Both man and dog looked very alert, as if they were still living in a war-torn country. But the dog was more well-adjusted than his owner, that was for sure. She struggled with memories that could overwhelm her if she allowed. Holly had had enough grief over the last three years, always hoping the intensity of that gut-wrenching feeling would eventually wear off. Somehow, it never seemed to lose its ferocity, much to her chagrin.
The look in Nick Conway’s eyes earlier today was identical to the one she remembered in her older sister, Noelle’s, eyes: flat and disengaged from life. She realized with a pang just how much she missed her larger-than-life sister. Often, Holly thought of Noelle, knowing that she no longer suffered pain and anguish. She was finally at peace. Finally.
Worriedly, she watched Nick and Snowflake make their way across the mostly dry parking lot. Now, she watched Nick avoid the few remaining slick ice patches illuminated by the lights above. So did Snowflake, who was delicately moving around such isolated spots to keep his beloved handler safe from slipping.
The fact that Nick’s gaze looked a lot like Noelle’s made her heart tug with concern. He appeared to be very nice, more aware than other men she’d met in her life. Being a WMD handler, Holly thought, as she stepped out the front door to greet them, such sensitivity was necessary. Dogs don’t speak English. A handler had to have a very keen eye, and strong intuition, linked with the ability, in her opinion, to communicate with a dog hunting for explosives. She knew that the same kind of sensitivity could create deep, ongoing wounds within Nick, too, and she was sure he had them. She would bet Snowflake did, too.
“Hey, Nick!” she called from the black, wrought-iron balcony on the second floor, waving down at him, “Take the side steps over there and come on up!” she said, pointing to her right.
He halted at her greeting, his face lifting up toward hers, and for a moment, he smiled, really smiled, and waved. Snowflake tugged hard on the leash, seeming to understand what she had just said, wanting to go toward that staircase at the end of the building she’d pointed to. “Thanks,” he called. “Be right up.”
Holly wrapped her arms around herself, shivering—the temperature was in the twenties already. She had to smile as she watched Snowflake leap against his leash, tugging Nick along. Did Snowflake understand English? Moving back into her warm apartment, she waited near the door, keeping her eye on the window next to it, waiting for the duo to appear.
When they arrived at the door, she said, “Hi! Come on in.” There was a big, thick brown rug in the foyer, and a wooden bench along the wall where a person could sit down and trade their wet boots for a dry pair. His boots were dry, so he just wiped them off good on the bristly rug.
“Aren’t you cold without a muffler, hat, and gloves?” she asked incredulously. Leaning down, she petted Snowflake. The dog’s short, bobbed tail gleefully wriggled his entire hind end, and his blue eyes gazed at her adoringly. She laughed with delight, smoothing the white, gray, and black fur over his head and neck.
Nick stomped his feet once more on the rug. “My mother lectures me about that, too,” he admitted, grinning over at her.
“Sue is practical, just like me,” Holly laughed. She stepped to the door to show him to his apartment, and he noticed that she wasn’t wearing a coat.
“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to allow her to pass. “Don’t you need a coat?”
“Do as I say, not as I do?” she teased him unmercifully. She saw redness rush up into his cheeks and it was touching.
“Caught red-handed,” he grumped good naturedly.
Pleased with his concern for her, she said, “No, it’s a quick trip down the passageway here. Follow me, okay?” The stars were glimmering in the night. Her breath shot out in white wisps as she hurriedly led them down the covered area. Slipping the key into the lock, she opened the door and then flipped on the lights.
“Go on in,” she invited.
“No, ladies first,” he demurred, gesturing for Holly to move ahead of him. Snowflake sat obediently at his side, watching her with interest.
“That’s what I love about military folks,” she said, stepping onto a thick, black rug.
“What’s that?”
“You’re so gentlemanly in a day and age when it seems like it’s been lost.”
“I guess we are, in some ways,” he said, stepping in and closing the door. “Years of training, first by my parents, then reinforced by the military, you know …”
“Well, I appreciate it,” she told him, turning. “This is a two-bedroom unit. It’s just a bit smaller than my apartment. The big units are up on the second floor. Come on in, and welcome home!”
*
Nick tried to ignore Holly’s closeness, but her sweet, feminine scent, or perhaps the shampoo she used on her glorious red hair, was extremely pleasant, and he breathed it in like a life-affirming elixir. Right now, he was aware that life here was a far cry from his life in Afghanistan.
He leaned down and removed Snowflake’s leash, knowing his dog would remain obediently at his side. Holly’s swaying hips as she led him through the room reminded him how long it had been since he’d made love to a woman. It seemed like another lifetime
.
Only Snowflake grounded him, reminding him of reality, and brought out the natural caring he had for living things, whether animals or people. This was just one of the many ways his dog had become his lifesaver.
Nick followed Holly into an open-concept living room and kitchen. “Nice,” he said, because he knew she wanted feedback.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said eagerly.
Nick stood next to her, not so close as to crowd her, but silently enjoying her nearness. Her casual, gray gym outfit somehow looked fetching, even sexy, on Holly. He liked that she wasn’t self-conscious. That ruffling of red hair around her shoulders made her oval, freckled face something he wanted to study and remember even more than before. She was actually becoming beautiful to him.
“This,” he said awkwardly, “looks fine, too.”
“Do you cook much?” she asked.
“My mom insisted I learn how to cook, so yes, I won’t starve.”
Holly laughed and his heart responded with a flow of warmth cascading through him. Her eyes brimmed with such life that he ached to feel that way himself.
“Great. Are you happy with the living room?” she asked.
In Nick’s eyes, it was absolutely sumptuous, with a dark green, corduroy sofa and two overstuffed chairs arranged around a huge, square wooden coffee table with a glass top. “Yeah, looks fine. Much nicer than what I’m used to, believe me.”
“Your military life will always follow you around, more or less, won’t it?” she posed softly, giving him an understanding look.
His mouth thinned for a moment, and he didn’t answer. Then he asked, “How about the bedrooms? What do they look like?” Nick couldn’t go into his military life with her, although he wanted to. He sensed that Holly was the kind of person who could hold him and heal him. He didn’t know why he knew that—it was just what his heart whispered to him. For so long, it had felt frozen and numb. Until right now.
“Sure,” she said. “This way.”
He liked following Holly. She had such energy and enthusiasm that he couldn’t resist being close to her.
“This is the master bedroom, so to speak,” she said wryly, stepping in and gesturing to a queen-size bed, an oak antique dresser, and a chair in one corner. “I know it’s not much …”
“Are you kidding me?” Nick looked around. “It’s more than I ever expected. Did you decorate this place?”
“Sort of. Dilara Culver, who owns Delos Charities, had a designer fly in and look at the blueprints for this building so it no longer looked like a motel. She brought all kinds of furniture catalogs with her that I could choose from. Together, I think we did a pretty good job.”
Nodding as he looked around, Nick spotted the bathroom off the main room. “You did. I like those dark-green velvety drapes. It will keep the cold from the window from leaking into the room.”
“They’re velour, and that’s why I chose them. The windows are double-paned to prevent heat loss and keep out that bitter winter cold.”
“I like Dilara Culver’s attitude,” he murmured appreciatively. Nick knew double-paned windows cost twice as much as a single-paned one, but they were worth every extra cent. A small shelf held books supported by bookends of wranglers riding bronzed bucking broncos. He was now back in the Old West and he’d always liked furniture from that era.
“Dilara is incredible, a dream come true,” Holly agreed. “Your master bathroom is over there. It has a bathtub and shower. This apartment comes furnished with everything, so all you have to do is move in your stuff and you’re good to go.”
“Well, that works for me, since I didn’t bring much back from Afghanistan.”
“Probably just an Army duffle bag?” she guessed, glancing up at him.
“Yep. You seem to know a lot about the military,” he added observantly.
Shrugging, she said, “My dad was in the Marine Corps for twenty years.”
“So, Holly, are you a military brat who was moved from one base to another every two years?”
“Sort of,” she admitted. “My dad was deployed a lot to Iraq, so we stayed at Camp Pendleton in southern California.” Holly turned and gestured across the hall. “You might want to use this room as an office or a workout room. It has lots of possibilities.”
Following her, he saw it was already set up as an office. “Sure,” he said. “I like that antique oak roll-top desk. Where did you find that?”
“Right here in Hamilton at Candy’s Antique Store at the other end of town.”
“Nice to see you tried to work with local businesses so they got part of the money in this rebuild.”
“Dilara always tries to involve local contractors and businesses when she has a Delos charity built in their town. About half the antiques in this two-story building come from Candy’s shop. She was tickled pink about it.”
“She always had nice antiques,” Nick told her. “As a kid I used to run down the wooden sidewalk from our diner to her store. I always liked nosing around and she was nice about answering my questions.”
“Candy’s in her seventies now, and I think she’s probably going to try and sell her store because it’s just getting to be too much for her,” Holly said, concern in her tone. “Her husband, Steve, died two years ago and it devastated her. I feel so deeply for her. They had thirty-five years together, and they had a happy marriage, like your folks do.”
“I didn’t know about Candy’s husband,” he offered, frowning. “I’ve only been back for two weeks and I’m trying to get my life under control. My mom knows all the local gossip, but we haven’t had time to sit down and talk about the people who have lived here all their lives. I’m sorry Steve is gone, he was a good man.”
“You know how small Hamilton is. Everyone knows everyone else. Most of the people were born here and live their whole lives here. When someone passes, the whole town grieves.”
“I remember attending more than a few funerals while growing up here,” he said. “Tell me more about yourself. When did you come to Hamilton? It must have been while I was in the Army.”
“Tell you what,” she said, “let’s close the deal on this apartment and then we can celebrate by letting me make you a cup of hot chocolate back at my place. I’ll tell you more, then?”
He couldn’t have asked for a better celebration—this woman was one bundle of good ideas! “Yeah, I’ll take the place. It’s much better than I’d expected, and at only a hundred dollars a month … are you sure?” He saw the sparkle come to her eyes, her full lips crooked into a grin.
“Only if you agree to be my van driver when you can. I know you have college and classes you have to attend. On those days or times, I can drive the van myself like I’m doing right now.”
He held out his hand toward her, wanting to feel her soft one against the hard, calloused quality of his own. “You’ve got a deal, Holly. Thanks for offering me and Snowflake this apartment, plus that part-time job.”
Shaking his hand, she grinned and released it. “Here are your keys. You can stay here tonight, if you want.”
“I’d like to, but I can’t. I’m driving my mom and dad nuts at their place and I’m sure they’ll be glad to hear I’ve got an apartment near them.”
She laughed a little. “I understand. Okay, do you need any help with your duffle bag or anything else? I can help you carry in whatever you have in your car.”
“No, that’s okay. Everything is over at my parents’ home. I’ll bring the stuff over with me tomorrow.”
“Great. Come on. We deserve some exceptionally wonderful hot chocolate, and I have a secret recipe I think you’ll love!”
Snowflake whined, his tail-stub and butt wriggling as Holly passed near them, heading out to the hall.
Nick felt lighter. Happier. He would be living right next door to Holly. She wore no ring on her hand to indicate she was married or going with someone. Nick just couldn’t believe she didn’t have a man in her life, though. “Okay, lead the way,” he told her.
*
Holly watched Nick’s face change as he sipped the hot chocolate. There was no doubt that he was the latest convert to Holly’s secret family recipe. He’d already swiped the thick, whipped cream from his mug onto his finger and given it to a very appreciative Snowflake.
Holly smiled. “I think Snowflake worships you,” she said, sitting at his elbow at the square, wooden table in her kitchen. She’d set out some leftover cookies from today’s run that had been made by her other helper, Janie Le Baron. Nick said little, but gratitude was written on his features as he sipped the chocolate and eagerly consumed three of the six cookies.
She noticed that, unlike other guys, Nick was unselfishly leaving half the cookies for her to eat—another promising quality on her dream partner’s list. Nick seemed to be the whole package, but she cautioned herself.
“Tell me about when you moved to Hamilton,” he said to her.
“I came here after graduating from college in Missoula, Montana, at age twenty-two. I received a degree in social work.”
“Were either of your parents in that line of work?” he wondered.
Shaking her head, she said, “After my dad retired from the Corps, he created his own construction company up in Missoula. Mom was a day care helper. It was a job she could easily continue if Dad was sent off to another base.”
“She must have loved kids,” he observed, wondering if Holly took after her mom.
Giving him a soft look, Holly whispered, “Yes, it’s definitely in my genes! I can remember taking care of children wherever we were stationed. I’d get home from school and help her with the kids in the late afternoons and evenings.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Nick said. He saw Snowflake get up and move over next to Holly, lying his head on her thigh, offering an adoring look as he gazed up at her. “Do you want me to call him back?” he asked. Holly seemed to like Snowflake, but you never could be sure about people.
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