Her Holiday Prince Charming

by Christine Flynn

  He. Erik.

  The man’s presence was not at all the news she’d hoped would get his morning off to a better start.

  “He’s downstairs,” she told him, and felt certain he’d have scooted off the bed that very moment had he been able to see where he was going.

  She’d thought to tell him her surprise was the big adventure the day might be, since making an adventure of uncertainties, for the most part, had taken his mind off his fears and insecurities before. Since Erik had unknowingly just accomplished that for her, she told him they’d just wait right where they were while his idol turned the lights back on.

  Instead of electric lights, however, it was the beam of the flashlight that illuminated the hall outside the open door.

  The beam swung inward, causing Tyler to bury his head in her chest at the momentary brightness and her to block the sudden flash with her hand.

  “Sorry,” Erik muttered. He aimed the beam at the rumpled bedding on the trundle. “It’s not the switch. I’ll have to wait until it’s light out to see what the problem is.”

  The circle of light bouncing off the cerulean sheets filled the room with shades of pale blue. Along the far wall, he watched Rory cuddling her son on the higher bed, her hair tousled, her hand slowly soothing the child’s flannel-covered back as Tyler turned to smile at him.

  It hit him then, as they sat huddled in the semi-dark, that all they really had was each other. He’d realized that on some level last night when he’d prodded her about where they’d spend Christmas. But seeing them now, realizing how much she’d lost and how vulnerable she could easily feel being that alone here, drove that reality home.

  The troubling protectiveness he felt for her slid back into place. That same protectiveness had been there last night, protecting her from him.

  He’d had no business touching her last night. All he’d wanted when he’d met them at the tree lot yesterday was to make sure she could give her little boy the Christmas she wanted for him.

  All he’d wanted last night was her.

  There hadn’t been a trace of defense in her pretty face when he’d touched her. Nothing that even remotely suggested she would have stopped him if he’d pulled her to him. He’d known when he’d left there a few days ago that distance was his best defense against complications with her. Especially since the not-so-subtle needs she aroused in him simply by her presence had a definite tendency to sabotage objectivity where she was concerned.

  Having sabotaged the distance angle himself simply by showing up, it seemed like some perverted form of justice that distance was going to be deprived him for a while.

  “Do you have another flashlight up here?” Objectivity now appeared to be his only defense. And objectively, she truly needed far more help from him than a little tutoring with the store. “Something stronger than this?”

  “The only other I have is just like that one. It’s in the kitchen in the phone desk drawer.”

  “You need something brighter. I’ll get one of the camp lamps from the store and bring it back for you to use up here.”

  She didn’t know she had camp lamps. But then, she hadn’t finished her inventory, either.

  “We’ll wait,” she told him, then watched him leave them, literally, in the dark.

  * * *

  There was something he wasn’t telling her. She would have bet her silk long underwear on that, had she not needed to wear it under her favorite gray fleece sweats to keep warm.

  She couldn’t believe how quickly the house had cooled. She turned the thermostat down every night, but without the furnace running at all, the temperature inside had dropped ten degrees within the hour.

  She’d compensated by bundling Tyler in long johns, fleece pants, heavy socks, slippers, an undershirt, thermal shirt and sweatshirt and parking him under a blanket in front of the blaze Erik had built in the fireplace.

  The only layer Erik had added was his jacket when he’d gone out a few minutes ago. He’d already left it in the mudroom when the thud of his heavy-treaded work boots announced his return.

  “This is the last of the wood you brought in yesterday. I’ll get more from the shed in a while.”

  The drapes were still closed, but the edges of the room were no longer dark. The fire had grown to throw flickering light into the room. The camp light that now occupied the dining table illuminated from that direction much like a table lamp.

  Tyler smiled up at him.

  “Can we turn on the tree?” he wanted to know.

  He hadn’t been talking to her. “We don’t have electricity yet,” she reminded him anyway. “Why don’t you read Frosty?” With the suggestion, she handed him his new favorite picture book. “And I’ll get you something to eat.”

  Concern suddenly swept his little face. Dropping the book, he shoved off the blanket and headed for the wall of drape-covered windows.

  “Is there a problem with the furnace, too?” she asked Erik, wondering what her little boy was up to. Wondering, too, if a problem with the furnace was what the larger male wasn’t sharing. “It’s oil. Not electric. Shouldn’t it be working?”

  Tyler pulled back the living room drapes. Dawn lightened the window, but the coating of frost and ice on the glass made it impossible to make out anything beyond it.

  The logs landed with quiet thuds at the far end of the hearth. “The furnace is oil, but the fan and pump are electric. You need power to pump the oil and push out the hot air.”

  Great, she thought. “Oh,” she said.

  Tyler let go of the drape. The heavy fabric still swung slightly as he ran to the dining room window next to it and pulled back the drape there.

  “How come I can’t see it?” he asked.

  “See what, honey?”

  “The snowman. He has lights.”

  “Hey, Tyler. I heard your mom say she’d get your breakfast. How about we get that out of the way before we tackle anything else?”

  At the obvious change of subject, Rory’s glance darted to Erik. It was met with the quick shake of his head and the pinch of his brow.

  He moved to her side, his voice low. “I don’t think you’ll want him to see it yet. Give me time to fix it first. I haven’t been all the way around the building, but some of those gusts last night were pretty strong. You might want to take a look from the store porch.

  “So,” he continued, brushing off his hands as he walked over to the child smiling up at him. “Why don’t you show me what kind of cereal we’re having?”

  Totally distracted by his friend’s attention, Tyler dutifully led the way to the pantry while Rory grabbed a flashlight and headed for the door into the store. On the way, she could hear Erik asking questions about flakes versus puffs and Tyler answering like an expert before she closed the inner door and hurried by flashlight beam to the outer one.

  She’d barely opened the store’s front door and screen and crossed her arms against the freezing air when she froze herself.

  The world outside had been transformed into a wonderland as disheartening as it was beautiful. In the pale twilight, the stubbles of her lawn appeared to be a blanket of clear marbles. Across the ice-glazed street, every bough on every tall pine, every branch of every winter-bare tree, every leaf on every bush had been encased in a robe of ice.

  In between, the ice-coated electric line sagged heavily from pole to pole—except for where it dangled loose a few feet from the tangle of branches of an oak tree now uprooted from her yard and lying across the road, blocking it completely.

  Near the entrance to her driveway, half of the maple tree that would shade it in summer lay squarely in it.

  Clouds filtered the cold sunrise, but the sky to the east was lightening enough to add hints of color to the gray when she carefully edged her way over the icy boards to the end of the porch and looked
toward the meadow. It was there that she saw the snowman that now rested in parts not far from the still upright and remarkably unbroken apple tree. The white chicken-wire, light-encrusted balls had separated when they’d blown over and were now frozen in place with boughs that had flown in from the grove of pines beyond.

  Erik had suspected that seeing the dismembered decoration would have upset her little boy. He was right. And though what she saw distressed her, too—especially when she thought of what had to be an identical mess of toppled debris on the other side of the building—she wouldn’t let herself think about how she was going to clean it all up right now. Mother Nature froze it, and she’d thaw it, too. She’d worry then about taking care of the scattered and broken boughs, branches and trees. Right now she couldn’t let herself think about anything beyond going back inside, making sure the guys were fed and figuring out how to make coffee without any power.

  The rest of it was just too daunting.

  “Thank you,” she said softly on her way past Erik the moment she walked back in.

  He stood at the island, Tyler a few feet away at the silverware drawer. “No problem.” He searched her face quickly, looking to see how she was taking what she had seen.

  Not sure what to make of the deceptive calm she diligently maintained around her child, he turned with two boxes in his hands. “Cereal?”

  “Sure.” Doing her best to ignore the knot of anxiety in her stomach, she reached for bowls and bananas. “What kind are you having, Ty?”

  “Both,” her son announced.

  “We’re mixing ’em,” Erik explained.

  The camp light now stood on the kitchen counter. In that relative brightness, Tyler’s eyes fairly danced.

  The dark slash of Erik’s eyebrow arched. “Is that a problem?”

  For a moment she thought the suggestion must have been Erik’s, until she considered that Tyler could have come up with the idea and Erik had decided to let him think the notion a good one. Looking between the two of them, she decided it could go either way. And either way, as protective as Erik had been of her son’s feelings moments ago, and sensing that what that mountain of muscle really needed was to be outside and moving, she couldn’t think of a thing to say but, “Of course not.”

  * * *

  Being deprived of his usual five-mile morning run did nothing to help Erik escape the restiveness nagging like a toothache as he headed into the early morning light. The bracing air felt good, though. He didn’t even mind that the ground felt like a skating rink beneath his boots. His balance on it was as sure as on a yawing sailboat—managing that shift and roll was second nature to him.

  Where he was out of his element was figuring out how to stay objective about the woman inside when he’d been kept awake half the night by her scent on her sheets and thoughts of her tantalizing little body playing havoc with his own.

  When he had first agreed to help her, he hadn’t considered how much her education would require beyond a business plan and inventory. But the scope of his responsibility had finally hit him. It had taken both of his grandparents to maintain their store and their home. For her to make it here, she’d need to be as self-reliant as they had been.

  What he also hadn’t considered until a while ago was how much more difficult her tasks might be because part of her focus would almost always be on her child.

  Ten minutes and another trip to the basement later, she had power—which was one less thing he needed to be concerned about before he headed back upstairs to see her by the light switch in the dining room.

  “You fixed it.” Relief lit her guarded smile as she pushed the toggle. “I heard the refrigerator come on. And the furnace.”

  From where he’d stopped in the entryway, he watched her glance up at the still dark fixture above the long table.

  “That light is off circuit right now,” he told her. “The only overhead light you have up here is in the kitchen. Besides the bathroom lights upstairs, you have one live outlet in each bedroom. All the appliances up here have power. So does the water heater in the basement, but the washer and dryer don’t.”

  The minor inconveniences barely fazed her. “What was wrong with the generator?”

  “The fuel line valve from the propane tank had been left in the off position. It could have been turned when the servicing company filled it, or by the inspector when he checked it out. Either way,” he said, conscious of her concentration, “it would be a good idea for you to check it the next time it’s filled. I’ll show you later how to thaw the valve in case it ever freezes in place again. Right now there are a few things I want to show you in the basement.”

  “I wanna go to the basement,” Tyler announced.

  Rory looked to where he had just jumped to his feet. “I thought you didn’t like the basement.”

  With a small shrug, he walked up to Erik.

  “It’s okay,” was all Tyler said, but it was infinitely more obvious than Erik’s faint smile that it was only okay because of the big guy.

  With more immediate concerns to deal with, she knew she couldn’t afford to worry about that growing attachment now. His new hero had the vaguely impatient look of a man on a mission as he led them down the steep stairs and across the concrete floor.

  Because Tyler wanted to see what he was talking about, he scooped him up, catching his small hand to keep him from touching anything, and proceeded to describe how the transfer of the power between the generator and the grid took place and how this system had a double-pole, double-throw transfer switch gear as a safety feature because it was the best way to prevent shock or electrocution.

  Her son looked fascinated by what the big man holding him so easily was saying about currents, shutoffs and sensors. And while she grasped the basics of what she needed to know, much of the detail escaped her just then. She had no problem, however, recognizing when something could be dangerous. As the day wore on, she even found herself wondering if there was any double sort of safety feature a woman could use to protect herself from the effects of a man who had the disturbing ability to draw her to him even as he pushed her away.

  * * *

  “I just want to know how to use a regular saw. Okay? The one you used to trim the trunk on the Christmas tree would work fine.”

  “It would work on the smaller branches,” Erik agreed, the icy breeze carrying away the fog of his breath, “but not for those you need to cut to get something this size moved. If you’re serious about this, a chain saw is faster and a lot less work.”

  Concern clearly battled her determination.

  “If I’m using that, I won’t be able to hear Tyler if he needs me. And I can’t have him right with me, because I don’t want him anywhere near that thing.”

  “I’ll show you how to use the handsaw.” He didn’t hesitate to offer the assurance, aware himself of the child on the porch, breaking ice off the fir boughs she’d collected for a wreath. “But you should know how to use this, too. We’ll be where you can keep an eye on him.”

  He watched Rory look from the wicked-looking chain saw blade to the long tangle of ice-coated limbs that had split away from the maple on the far side of the drive. A slash of exposed, raw wood on the heavy trunk mirrored the ragged tear on the thick branch where it had fallen from the tree’s side.

  He’d already cut up the branch that had fallen atop it with the now-silent saw he’d borrowed from her neighbor. He’d heard the saw’s droning buzz when he’d come outside a couple of hours ago to fix Frosty and put a little physical distance between himself and his charge. Being near her in the confines of the house had left him too edgy, too restless. Outdoors, he at least had the buffer of space.

  His glance slid from her burgundy fleece headband and jacket to the hem of her jeans. Since she’d kept herself occupied away from him for the better part of the morning, he suspected she’d bee
n after a little distance, too.

  Apparently having reassessed her options, and with her immediate concern addressed, she anchored the toe of her black boot in the loop of the saw’s handle. “So,” she gamely began, “I start it by putting my foot here?” she asked. “And pulling on this?”

  Catching her arm as she reached for the starter pull, he turned her in the churned-up gravel to face him. “You start by putting on these.”

  He tugged off his heavy leather gloves, then slipped the clear safety goggles Ed Shumway also loaned him from around his neck.

  Teaching her how to use a saw hadn’t been on the agenda he’d outlined for himself that morning, but she’d wanted to know how to use one to clear the property after it thawed. Since he didn’t much care for the thought of her outside sawing and hauling limbs by herself, he’d already planned to have the mess cleared for her. This wasn’t the only storm she’d likely ever encounter, though. And he wouldn’t be around once she was on her financial feet. If she was going to be self-sufficient, it was his job to give her the tools she’d need to make that happen.

  Reaching toward her, he looped the goggles’ wide elastic strap around the back of her head. Not giving her time to take off her gloves to adjust the bright orange band, he did it himself and settled the clear skilike goggles in place.

  “Keep in mind that the barter system still works for a few things around here, too,” he informed her, tucking back a strand of the dark hair he’d dislodged from the fleece covering her ears. “Someone should be willing to take care of all these trees for you in exchange for a load or two they can sell or use for firewood.”

  Far too conscious of the softness of her skin, the silk of her hair, he deliberately dropped his hand.

  Pulling his gloves from where he’d tucked them under his arm, he jerked them back on and nodded to the saw. “Now you can start it.”

  Rory braced herself. Not so much for what she was about to do, but because everything about this man had her feeling so off balance.

  He’d given her his jacket a while ago. He stood there now in his heavy charcoal pullover and jeans, seeming totally unfazed by the cold and the almost familiar ease with which he’d touched her.