Another jab to her heart. Of course she didn’t expect him to love her. Of course she wasn’t falling in love with him. She’d barely known him for a week. They’d spent one night together. Maybe it was the best night of her life, but that didn’t matter.
Her heartache was insignificant compared to how his had been broken, but she was too raw to offer him any comfort right now. Instead, she pasted a bright smile on her face. “So the pizza was a pretty big deal?”
“Don’t forget the cookies.”
“You inhaled a half dozen.”
There was a rustling under the table and then a black ball of fluff clawed at her pant leg. Jingle jumped into her lap.
“He looks good. I think he’s grown in the past few days.”
“He makes them really happy,” she said, “and it’s going to be terrible when they have to give him back.”
“Maybe they won’t.”
“There’s no way Jill’s sister will let them keep a kitten.”
“April,” he said softly. “Those girls belong with you.”
“No.” She jumped up from her chair, dropping the kitten onto the table as she did. Ignoring the sudden trembling in her fingers, she collected the pizza stone and both their plates. “That’s not an option, Connor.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” She stalked over to the kitchen sink and dumped the plates and pizza stone into it. She went to open the dishwasher, but Connor was next to her, blocking the door. “You don’t get to do this,” she said.
“Why?” he asked again, and she couldn’t tell whether he was repeating his question or wondering about her anger. She opened herself, gave her temper free rein in a way she normally wouldn’t. She’d learned early on to control what she felt until her optimism had become an inherent part of her. Yoga helped with that. Whenever she felt pressure building, she’d go through her favorite restorative sequences until her equilibrium returned.
But she had no center of balance with Connor. She was like his snowman, continuously off-center and on the verge of toppling over.
She gave him a small push and he backed up a step, far enough that she could open the dishwasher. Flipping on the faucet, she rinsed the plates and began to load them. “You wrap yourself in your tragedy like it’s a warm blanket. It’s defined you, and anytime you’re uncomfortable you pull it up to your chin like a protective layer. You don’t get to hide behind your demons and still demand that I put aside mine. I honor what you’ve been through and how it’s shaped you, Connor.”
“You’ve pushed me every day since you showed up at that cabin,” he answered, but there was no anger in his tone.
She lifted her gaze to his, and his green eyes were lit with understanding. She didn’t want understanding. She was baiting him because his anger would mute the other emotions tumbling through her.
“It’s not the same.”
“Those girls need a family, April. They need you.”
She almost laughed at that. Because if anyone was needy in this scenario, it was her. All the need and desire she’d locked away was now pushing on the door of her heart. She could feel the barricades starting to crumble and was working overtime to shore up the cracks in her armor. That involved not allowing herself to even entertain the idea of keeping Ranie and Shay.
“I’m not a good bet for them,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel and then slamming shut the dishwasher. “Their mother died and if my cancer returns...”
“You can’t live your life letting the fear of a future that may never happen run it.”
“Watch me.”
“You’d be good for them,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “I’m not good for anyone.” No matter how much she tried, how much she gave to her friends and the Crimson community, her deepest secret was that it was all a mask. Everything she did was to prove that she added value and was worthy of the love and friendship people offered her. Because she didn’t believe she was worthy of it just for being who she was.
He reached for her, pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to stay stiff, to ignore how right it felt to be surrounded by the strength and heat of him.
“We’re quite a pair,” he whispered, and all the effort she’d made to fortify her defenses didn’t matter. They fell away in an instant, as if he’d snapped his fingers and worked some kind of strange, desperate magic. She sagged into him and let him support her. All her tarnished edges and dusty corners. She didn’t hide anything, only pulled air in and out, matching her breathing to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“You’re making an effort,” she whispered after a long minute. “That counts.”
“You’re giving those girls a Christmas they won’t forget,” he answered. “And dragging me along for the fun. That counts, too.”
She sniffed. “I’m not dragging you—”
He cut off her words with a gentle kiss. “Thank you,” he said. “For being you.”
“April?”
Shay’s voice was uncertain. April pulled away from Connor and turned to where the girl stood in the kitchen doorway, a book held to her stomach.
“Are you ready for the story?” she asked.
Shay nodded, then her blue gaze flicked to Connor. “I was wondering if Connor would read it to us tonight?”
Oh, dear. April supposed she didn’t need to push Connor when Shay was around. That sweet girl was determined to bring him back to life. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Each night leading up to Christmas we read a different story out of the Christmas book bought the other day. They’re short but if...”
“Dragging me,” he whispered, “in the best way possible.”
He stepped around her toward Shay. “It just so happens that in addition to my mad skills making snowmen, I’m a master story reader.”
Ranie had come to stand next to her sister. “This should be a treat,” she muttered, but a smile lit her eyes.
“Can we have cookies while we listen?” Shay asked April.
April nodded. “One more each. You get settled on the couch with Connor and I’ll put them on a plate.”
Her cell phone rang as she turned for the counter, and she recognized Sara’s number. “Are you checking up on me from paradise?” she asked as she accepted the call.
Sara’s throaty chuckle sounded through the phone. “I’m having a margarita in your honor.”
“I don’t drink margaritas,” April answered with a smile.
Sara laughed again. “You should, my friend. You should.”
“How’s vacation and why are you calling? Is everything okay at Crimson Ranch?”
“It’s fine and vacation is perfect. I should try it more often.”
“You’d get bored and bug that handsome husband of yours,” April told her.
“Oh, I’m bugging the heck out of him on this trip. He’s not complaining.” Sara sounded happy and relaxed, and April was glad for her. “I wanted to check in on our cabin guest. Connor’s editor called to thank me. She said he’s going to finish his book during this trip. Apparently, the studio that made the first movie is interested in film rights. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, April, but as usual you’ve got the magic touch with difficult guests.”
“He’s not too bad,” she said quietly, glancing at the doorway that led to the cabin’s small hearth room.
“Really? I heard he went off the deep end after he lost his wife and son, and now he’s a total antisocial hermit.”
“April, come on.” Shay ran into the room and skidded to a stop in front of her.
April fumbled for the mute button on her phone but ended up holding her fingers over the microphone.
“Connor and Ranie are having a pillow fight and you need to referee.” The girl was bursting w
ith excitement and shouting at the top of her lungs. “Bring the cookies to distract them.”
She held a finger over her lips and whispered, “I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t run in the house.”
Shay heaved the impatient sigh of a five-year-old, and then turned and sprinted back out of the room. “April’s got the cookies,” she yelled, her voice carrying even after she’d disappeared.
“Sara, I need to go. Have a—”
“You’re kidding, right?” Her friend sounded stunned. “You can’t hang up without an explanation. Pillow fights and cookies? Who is Ranie? And is there a child at the cabin?”
April made a pathetic attempt at white noise. “Sorry, Sara, you’re breaking up.”
“You can’t pawn me off with fake static. What’s going on, April?”
April sighed, pressed a hand to her forehead. She hadn’t drunk more than an occasional glass of wine since her cancer diagnosis, but this was a moment she could have used a shot of hard liquor. For medicinal purposes, of course. “It’s under control. You have to trust me.”
“Of course I trust you.” Sara’s voice gentled. “But I need to know you’re okay. I know how you take on more than you should because you can’t say no. The point of being up on the mountain with a hermit was that you’d have time to relax, too. Whatever is going on there—”
“I’m fine,” April lied. “Everything is fine.”
Shay yelled for her again.
“I need to go. Enjoy your vacation and I’ll talk to you when you’re back in town.”
“If you need anything,” Sara said quickly, “call me. Anytime. Take care of yourself, April.”
“I will.” The lie stuck in her throat. She swallowed, then made her voice bright. “Merry Christmas, Sara. Give Josh a hug for me and I’ll see you in the New Year.”
“Merry Christmas” was the last thing she heard her friend say before ending the call.
Everything might not be fine, but that was her own fault. She’d let her heart get involved with the three people waiting for her in the next room. They meant something to her, different from what she’d expected and more than she could handle without being hurt. But she’d committed to doing her best to heal those girls and Connor. No matter what life had thrown at her, April had always believed Christmas was a time of magic. She wasn’t going to give up on that now.
The sound of raucous laughter spilled from the hearth room into the kitchen. Laughter was a good reminder of how far they’d come in just a few days. She plated the warm cookies and, humming a holiday tune under her breath, moved toward the happy sounds.
Chapter Eight
A loud crash from downstairs made Connor jerk away from his keyboard. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door. Was April trying to get his attention?
It seemed unlikely since she’d been avoiding him all day. Maybe she was angry again that he hadn’t spent the whole night with her, but he’d made a point of waking her before he’d crawled out of her bed around midnight. She’d given him a sleepy kiss and a smile before falling back to sleep. He’d assumed that meant she was okay with him leaving. The truth was, even if he’d wanted to stay, the words were pounding through his brain at such a fever pitch he couldn’t sleep. He’d returned to his cabin and stayed at the computer until the sky had turned pink and orange with the dawning of a new day.
Only then had he forced himself to rest for a few hours before heading down to the treadmill in the basement. He’d timed his workout so he might see April making breakfast, but she hadn’t made an appearance all morning. It was easy enough for him to fry a couple eggs, and he’d had a small stab of guilt at the fact that he was sleeping with a woman who, in a roundabout way, worked for him. Maybe he should make her breakfast? Or dinner. He’d checked the refrigerator and pantry and figured he could whip together some sort of decent meal for her and the girls.
He’d been the one to cook most of the meals when Margo was at work, and he expected the thought of cooking for someone else to feel uncomfortable. Instead, he liked the idea of doing his part for the woman who had already done so much for him.
But April hadn’t come to the house at lunch and the small cabin next door had remained quiet all day. He could have texted her, but something had stopped him. Maybe there was another reason she was staying away. Maybe he’d shown her too much of himself, and it was more than she was willing to take on. He wouldn’t blame her, even as disappointment coiled around his gut.
Anger rose to the surface, sharp and familiar. She did work for him. Even if she’d decided she wanted nothing more to do with him, she still had a job. He stalked toward the stairs, letting the demons he’d kept under lock and key have free rein inside him. They stretched and yawned, then gnashed their teeth, prepping for a fight he didn’t exactly want but couldn’t seem to stop himself from seeking.
He came up short as he turned the corner for the kitchen. Ranie was on her knees with a towel, wiping up what looked to be enough water to fill a bathtub. Shay stood on a chair pulled to the counter chopping carrots with...damn, was that a butcher knife in her hand? April was nowhere in sight.
“Hey, girls,” he said softly, not wanting to startle a five-year-old wielding an eight-inch knife. “What’s going on?”
Ranie froze on the floor, glancing up at him.
Shay turned and the look in her eyes wrecked him. “We’re making you dinner,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “But you don’t have any food in the cabinets. Ranie’s real good at noodles or mac n’ cheese. You only...”
“Sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer. “Put the knife on the counter.”
Ranie straightened and, after moving behind Shay, grabbed the knife out of her sister’s hand.
“We’ll figure out something,” the older girl told him, her chin tipped up. “You have eggs. I can make eggs. Go back to whatever you were doing and—”
“Why are you two making dinner?”
“We want to,” Ranie said. At the same time Shay whispered, “April’s sick.”
Ranie nudged the girl’s shoulder. “Be quiet, Shay.”
Connor’s mind raced and spun as he tried to assimilate the scene before him and the little girl’s words. “What do you mean she’s sick? Is she at the other cabin still? What’s wrong?”
The two sisters looked at each other, an entire silent conversation occurring before his eyes.
“I’ll see for myself,” he said, already turning and heading for the door. He shoved his feet into boots and was shrugging into his coat when the girls came rushing after him.
“No.” Ranie shouted that one word into the silence.
Connor stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“She says it’s just a stomach bug.” Ranie dropped her gaze, wrapping her thin arms around herself. “She doesn’t want you to see her right now.”
“She’s really sick,” Shay whispered, and looked so miserable that Connor instinctively opened his arms. With a muffled sob she ran into them and he lifted her against his chest, her weight insubstantial and yet unsettling as her shoulders shook and she cried into his shirt.
He murmured soothing words into her hair. She smelled like sugar and sweat and child. A universal scent that wrapped around his soul, tugging tendrils of memory from their hiding place. His demons quieted, as if lulled by her nearness, watching and waiting to see what would happen next.
Ranie took a step closer and put a soft hand on her sister’s back. “Our mom threw up a lot during that last round of treatment. It upsets Shay and...” She clamped her mouth shut, her blue eyes frightened and so big against her pale skin.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, and opened his embrace to include her. She allowed herself to be held for only a few moments before pulling away. Shay still clung to him, though
, and Connor found that he didn’t want to let go of her. He shifted her in his arms so he could hold her as he walked and then led the two girls across the driveway to the smaller cabin.
He held open the front door for Ranie. “When did it start?”
“I guess in the middle of the night,” Ranie admitted reluctantly. “She was sick when we woke up this morning.”
He started to ask why she wouldn’t want the girls to tell him but wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. April was comfortable being the one to take care of those around her, but what if it was more than that? What if she didn’t trust him?
After all he’d shared with her about his weakness and failing his family, she didn’t have much reason to have faith in him. But, damn, if he didn’t want her to.
He lowered Shay from his arms at the bottom of the staircase. “You two pack your bags while I check on April.”
Both girls gave him a look of such horror the ice spikes of guilt hammered into his gut. Apparently, one day of fun in the snow wasn’t enough to balance how he’d treated them when they’d first arrived. These girls did not trust him.
“Everyone is moving into the main cabin so I can take care of April,” he said gently. “So I can take care of all of you.”
Shay nodded and Ranie let out a shaky breath. He could almost see the weight lift from her shoulders. Connor cursed the heavy burden of responsibility this girl had been forced to carry when she should have been focused on being a kid.
“Jingle can come, too, right?” Shay asked. The tiny animal peeked his head around the corner from the hallway.
“Put him in the carrier and bring him along. Once we get April settled, I’ll come back for his supplies.”
“I can hold him,” Shay protested. “He doesn’t like the carrier.”
Connor shook his head. “I don’t have time to chase a kitten through the snow. He can have free rein in the cabin, but he has to make the trip in his carrier.”
Christmas on Crimson Mountain Page 10