by Jillian Hart
Pity. He hated it. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I want good things for you, Spence. You work so hard for all of us. You are such a good man.”
“If you go on about how I deserve good things, I’m not going to grocery shop for you again.” It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.
She smiled. “Love isn’t a bad thing, Spence. Look how it has changed my life. I’m happier than I ever imagined being with Jack as my husband and Hayden as my daughter. And this baby on the way.” She rubbed her round stomach, lovingly. “You don’t want to be alone forever, do you? Don’t you want to be a father?”
“No.” To be a father would mean he would need a wife, and he’d vowed never to marry. Who could he ever trust that much? There probably wasn’t a woman on the face of this earth that he could believe in. At least, he was pretty sure he would never find one.
“Fine.” Katherine wasn’t easily defeated. “Then let me tell you a little about Lucy. She didn’t have a close family growing up. Her mother hardly talks to her since she became a Christian.”
He knew that. He didn’t want to think that they had something in common—moms who had let them down.
“She volunteers a lot at the children’s wing of the local hospital. She’s very devoted to her work there. She moved here because she came here on vacation and said she could still see the old Wild West.”
Deep down he wanted to like that about Lucy, that she could see Montana’s heritage and history and respected it. But on a safer level, he couldn’t let himself admit to such a thing. “Probably because she writes those historical books, moving here makes her job easier. That’s all.”
“Even you don’t believe that one. I know you, Spence. You push everyone away. You keep all of us at a distance.” There was more than pity on Katherine’s face now. There was love. “Maybe you could try letting someone in. I’m not saying it has to be Lucy, but if you did, I don’t think it would be a mistake.”
His throat ached. He thought back over the evening with Lucy in his truck. She had a companionable air to her. She was easy to talk with—even if he didn’t talk much. She was gentle and kind and funny. He had said more to her than he’d said to any woman outside his family in a good decade. She’d made him almost smile. At least twice. Maybe more. She made the cold places in his heart ache to be less lonely.
She was definitely a woman he needed to stay away from. He swallowed hard against the emotion bunched in his throat and lifted his hand in farewell. “See you tomorrow, Kath.”
The moment he felt the driving snow beat against his face, he tried to tell himself that Katherine might mean well, but she was wrong. He didn’t need anyone. He was happy with his life. He was glad to be alone.
The trouble was that loneliness was getting bigger and bigger, and tonight it felt enormous. The wind howled, chasing snow into drifts as he fought through the accumulation to his waiting truck. The lights behind him faded into darkness. By the time he’d tumbled into the cab and started the engine, he was colder than he’d ever been. He wanted to tell himself it was the weather, but it was more. It was the loneliness beating at him, the loneliness that hadn’t felt so bad before tonight. Maybe it was because he’d been so numb to it.
That was Lucy’s doing, too.
He started the truck, letting the defroster blast on high as he wiped down the windows again with another towel from beneath his seat. It was impossible not to remember Lucy watching him as if he’d sprouted another ear when he’d meticulously wiped down his side of the truck.
He supposed a woman like her wasn’t used to being practical. Katherine’s words stuck with him and hurt like a blade dug deep. Maybe you could try letting someone in. I’m not saying it has to be Lucy, but if you did, I don’t think it would be a mistake.
He couldn’t imagine a bigger one. Lucy was a writer, an author. In that way, she was just like his mother had been. She was someone seeking attention and fame and all the things that didn’t matter in life.
So what if he liked her? Nothing could ever come of it. He wasn’t foolish enough to let anyone too close to him—and never a woman chasing after dreams. No, he was a man who believed in what was real, in what mattered and in what could be measured by hard work. He didn’t approve of dreams.
Snow beat with impossible force against the windshield, and he started out in low gear, going slowly. He struggled to see the road at all.
The darkness seemed endless tonight, and he felt small and alone as he drove three streets down and five blocks over.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Rebecca was saying from the hallway. “There are extra towels in the side cabinets and a new toothbrush in the top drawer on the left side of the sink.”
“You are very well-equipped for visitors.” Lucy couldn’t help being impressed. “My guest room is full of cardboard boxes I haven’t unpacked yet.”
“The munchkins stay over now and then. My nephew and niece,” she explained.
“It must be wonderful that you’re so close to them.”
“And that’s the way it’s going to stay.” She stopped at the guest bathroom door and stepped inside to put a new tube of toothpaste on the counter. “I’m getting married in January, and one of the first things Chad said when we were talking about how we were going to fit all his stuff in this condo was that there had to be room for the munchkins to stay over.”
“And soon there will be more nieces and nephews to dote on.” Lucy thought of the McKaslin twins, Ava and Aubrey, who were now both expecting.
“Yes. Spence has said that we’re going to be outnumbered soon.” There was an electronic chime.
“Is that your handsome fiancé?”
“Sending me a text message.” Rebecca’s heart-shaped face brightened with unmistakable happiness from unmistakable love. “That means he’s home safe.”
“He wants you to call him. Go.” Lucy remembered what it was like to be young and in love. “I can take it from here.”
“Thanks, Lucy.” Rebecca was already heading down the hall. “Just interrupt if you need something. Promise?”
“Promise.” Lucy stepped into the guest room with twin beds against two walls and a large window framed with floral-printed curtains.
She smiled at the flannel pajamas on the foot of one bed—still in its wrapping. Rebecca was surely a thoughtful hostess. The McKaslins were a nice family. She was looking forward to tomorrow, even when it came to Spence. He was a serious mystery, and the glimpses she had seen of him had more than intrigued her. They had shown her a snapshot of sorrow she could not help being touched by.
Everyone had a story; everyone knew sorrow. She knew that, but when it came to Spence, oftentimes it was easy to believe the cold, invincible face he presented to the world. She went to close the door, and the lights blinked out. Darkness descended, blotting out every shadow. She froze, disoriented. She didn’t know her way out of the room, and if she took a step with her luck she would bang right into the door.
Rebecca’s voice floated down the hallway. She was still on the phone. “No, sweetheart, don’t come over. Stay where you’re warm. Lucy and I will be fine. I’ve got a flashlight and batteries right here, thanks to Spence.”
Spence. Thanks to him there was a small light flashing to life at the end of the hall, chasing away the darkness. Whatever his flaws, he sure took good care of his family. Why hadn’t he married? Why did a bachelor own a house in a family neighborhood? Why did he walk around like a disgruntled grinch on Christmas Eve? Like Scrooge counting his money?
It was a mystery, and there was nothing she liked more—other than a good romance, but that went without saying. She opened the door and made her way toward the light.
Chapter Four
“Oh, I can’t wait to meet this Lucy I’ve heard so much about.” Gran tossed him the merry look of hers that said she knew something he didn’t.
It was probably because she had called Katherine or Danielle or Rebecca, any of whom would have been
more than happy to inform their grandmother about Lucy Chapin. Disgruntled, he gripped the steering wheel tight and took his gaze briefly from the road to give Gran the Eye, adding extra squint and heavy frown.
“What? You don’t like Lucy?” Gran’s wide-eyed innocence was not too innocent.
Yep, they had all been definitely talking about Lucy. He scowled. It was best to keep quiet. Anything he said would be misinterpreted. He knew this from vast experience. He stared at the road, hoping Gran would get a hint and change the subject.
“Lucy is quite successful, isn’t she?” Gran’s voice gave a little smile, as if that was a good thing.
“Success is a matter of opinion,” he said. Even as he said the words, they did not sound harsh enough to his own ears.
“Oh, I think a person can be successful in more ways than one.” Gran was practically singing she sounded so happy.
He rolled his eyes. What had his sisters been saying?
“Your grandfather was a very successful businessman by any standards, and yet he never once lost sight of the other ways a man can be successful.” Gran paused, as if she were waiting for him to ask what those ways could be.
“The only success is not disappointing your family or God.” Maybe that would stop her. “I’m not interested in Lucy Chapin.”
“Why not? She sounds as nice as could be.”
“Nice? Nice is not what I’m looking for.”
“You can’t fool me, dear boy. You are transparent to me.” Gran’s words warbled with love and delight.
Thank heavens the ride was over. He pulled the truck into Katherine’s shoveled driveway and cut the engine. “Conversation over, Gran. Now don’t you move a muscle until I get over there to help you down. It’s slick as can be out there, and I won’t have you falling.”
“Yes, dear.”
Her amusement followed him out into the bitter cold. Her mood seemed to hover behind him like those storm clouds overhead. There was no doubt about it now; he was in for a hard time today. The women in his family were probably planning his and Lucy’s wedding. His pulse stopped. His foot slipped. He grabbed the bumper for support.
Marriage. Now that was one trap he wasn’t going to be lured into.
He opened the passenger door and helped Gran down. Jack had been out early and shoveled and deiced, but Spence wasn’t taking any chances. He kept a good hold on his grandmother until they were safely beneath the porch’s wide roof. He raised his hand to knock, but the door was already swinging open.
Ava’s smiling face seemed to burst with secret happiness. Was it too much to hope that she was still ecstatic about her pregnancy? Or was it something else—like Lucy—that she was smiling about now?
“Gran! Right on time.” Ava kissed their grandmother’s cheek and drew her into the warm house. “You’re looking more gorgeous than ever.”
“So are you, dear.” Gran took Ava by the hands and admired her. “I never looked so lovely when I was pregnant. Oh, and Aubrey dear, you look beautiful, too.”
Spence stopped listening because his ears filled with static. That could only mean one thing—Lucy was close by. He couldn’t remember closing the door or taking off his coat. His optic nerve hardly registered the sights of his twin sisters tugging Gran into Katherine’s living room or the family greeting him. His eyes malfunctioned, and the only face he could see was Lucy’s. Her emerald eyes and the cute slope of her nose and her gentle smile were powerful enough to make his feet stop moving and his throat go dry. He could only pray no one would notice, especially his eagle-eyed sisters.
“So you’re Lucy.” Gran’s voice rose above the others. “What a pleasure to meet you. Danielle gave me one of your books just last week. I started it yesterday, and I can’t remember the last time I read something that made me laugh so hard.”
Here it came, the long stream of self-importance he knew had to be there. He turned on his heel, forced his feet to start working again and stalked from the room. He could hear his mother’s voice from long ago, still crystal clear after all these years. If it wasn’t for you, I would be a star right now. I have the face for it, everyone used to say so. Then I would be somebody. Someone important.
He was halfway to the kitchen, but was he safe? No, because Lucy’s voice was following him like a cloud of doom.
“That’s so nice of you to say. A lot of people tell me my books are funny, but they aren’t supposed to be.”
A wave of laughter followed him as he stormed into the back half of the house. Dorrie and Lauren looked up from their work at the counter.
“Hi, Spence.” Lauren repositioned her knife and kept chopping. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, dear.” Dorrie’s eyes were twinkling, always a bad sign. She was in such a happy mood.
He didn’t approve of happy moods. The sound of Lucy’s voice seemed to gravitate to his ears like space dirt to the atmosphere, and while he couldn’t make out the words, he heard kindness and caring in her tone. Gran was answering her. They were hitting it off. Great. That meant everyone in the family was now in love with Lucy.
“You look in a particularly good mood this morning.” Dorrie waltzed toward him, stopping to lay a reassuring hand on Lauren’s shoulder before she circled around the counter. “And wearing the sweater I gave you for your birthday. It looks handsome on you, just like I thought.”
“It’s black. It seemed appropriate for today.”
Dorrie laughed; she always understood him even when no one did. It had always been that way, even when he’d been a hurting teenager and he’d done his best to push her away. She hadn’t been fooled then, and she wasn’t now. “It may be an occasion of mourning for you, Spence, but we like having Lucy here. You ought to try smiling a little. Show off your dimples.”
“I don’t have dimples.” It was best to deny it.
“Put your best foot forward. The girls told me everything.”
“Of course they did.” He recognized the look. Dorrie was ready to give him a hug, and physical closeness made him nervous. He stepped back. “I don’t want to put my best foot forward, sorry.”
Dorrie rolled her eyes, still not fooled. “If it makes any difference, I don’t think it matters. God makes our plans, Spence, we don’t. Don’t you forget that.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “God’s plan for me right now involves making sure no one falls on the sidewalk out front. I’m going to put more deicer out there before Danielle, Jonas and the kids get here. Jonas might have trouble with his cane.”
“All right.” Dorrie went back to the stove where pots were boiling, and delicious scents were rising up with the steam. “You go work on the sidewalk if that’s what you need to do, but you’re still going to have to come back into this house sometime. You can’t avoid her forever.”
His hand was on the doorknob to the garage before he realized two things. Dorrie and Lauren were exchanging looks that made him fear the worst: They were going to make sure it was impossible for him to avoid Lucy Chapin. And, worst of all, he had left his coat in the other room. He would have to walk past Lucy to get to it.
Maybe Jack had an extra coat in the garage, he thought, and yanked open the door. “Dorrie, don’t you sit me next to Lucy at the table. You hear?”
“Sure, I hear you.” Dorrie sounded as if she were enjoying this way too much. “But I am your mother, young man, and you will sit where I tell you to, and you will mind the manners I raised you with.”
He had a few things to say to that, but the truth was anything he might say would hurt Dorrie’s feelings, and he wouldn’t do that on his life. So he left her to her victory and her hopes and stalked out into the frigid garage. He was out of luck. There was no coat or anything he could use anywhere in the neatly organized shelving. Dorrie was right. He couldn’t stay outside forever. He hit the garage opener, and who was standing there holding his coat?
Lucy. He gritted his teeth and prepared for his system to go haywire. His palms went d
amp. His face felt hot. He suddenly seemed far too tall and big and awkward.
Dainty, petite Lucy was sweet and unruffled. She obviously wasn’t having a problem functioning. No, she looked calm and at ease, without so much as a nervous flicker. She was wrapped up warmly in her parka and fuzzy hat, scarf and mittens—in neon blue.
“Your sisters thought you might need this.” She held out his warm coat like a peace offering.
He did not want a peace offering. He wanted his system to return to normal. He wanted the static to clear from his brain and the panic to leave his bloodstream. He forced his feet toward her and plucked the coat out of her grip. “They forced you to bring this out?”
“You know they did. They all used the pregnancy excuse, and your grandmother simply shouldn’t be out in the ice.”
“It is getting colder out.” It was the closest thing he could say to thank you. He was grateful for her concern about his grandmother, but that was as far as he was willing to go. It was best to keep the status quo of him disliking her and her avoiding him. He punched his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “You can go now.”
She squinted her pretty eyes at him and folded her arms over her chest. The contemplative look on her lovely face made his stomach drop.
Uh-oh. He was going to get some comment on that. As he spotted the bag of deicer and strode toward it—alarmingly close to her—he could hear her mind working. The best defense was a good offense, so he started talking before she could start in. “Go. Just because I helped you last night doesn’t mean I want you hanging around today.”
“Sure, I see that.” She winced, and there was a shadow of hurt in her soft green eyes.
It stung his conscience, but he had to set boundaries. He had to drive her away and keep her there because of the strange weakening in the vicinity of his heart. Every instinct he had began to shout danger! Longing eased to life in his soul—a deep, quiet wish that he could not allow.
“I think I have your number, Spence McKaslin.”
“I doubt it.” He grabbed the scoop inside the deicer bag and filled it. There was no way she could know his secret. No possible way. He straightened, doing his level best to keep his focus on the concrete in front of his boots. With great effort, he was able to walk right on past her like a normal, not interested, unaffected man.