Ice pellets battered the window as he washed up at the sink. Scarlett rummaged beneath the cabinets, coming up with plastic mixing bowls, several spoons, measuring cups, cookie cutters and who knew what else. She spread all of it across the kitchen counter, and he knew he was in for trouble. If they used all that stuff, he would be up half the night washing dishes.
But the joy shining on Scarlett's face would be worth it. He just didn't know if his heart would survive.
Two hours later, they had a pile of sugar cookies made. One batch was burnt black, and they'd scraped that into the trash can first thing. The next batch was brown and a little crunchy, but not too bad. Batches three and four had been better.
Scarlett had set about decorating, but he hadn't known how to work the little piping dealies, and there were blotches of icing all over the countertops.
But the girl who was covered in flour and had a smudge of icing across her nose was shining with joy. That made it all worth it.
She had her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth in concentration as she worked on the last two man-shaped cookies.
She didn't look up as she spoke. "The Daddy-Daughter dance is on Christmas Eve. D'ya think Mama's”—she glanced over her shoulder toward the darkened living room, lowered her voice—"husband will be ready by then?"
With the show of temper Carrie’d shown earlier, it was clear his plan had failed. He’d hoped—sort of—that there might be a spark of attraction for one of the men who’d asked her out. It wouldn’t take long for someone to fall for Carrie. She was sweet and spunky and independent. It wasn’t like he could force her into a marriage, but things would progress if one of the guys in town would just get their heads on straight…
Except now Carrie had things figured out. And there was only a week left until the holiday.
"I don't know, kiddo." He tried to draw a beard on the Santa-guy he was supposed to be decorating. His big hands weren't made for the detail work, and Santa ended up looking more like one of the seven dwarfs. "Sometimes Santa doesn't work as fast as we want. Especially when it's something big." How could he explain the progression of dating, falling in love, marriage…?
Especially when her mom wasn't cooperating. He could only imagine how badly she was going to ream him when she found out what he'd agreed to.
He'd been thinking of Scarlett, and of Carrie, but she might not see it that way.
"Maybe the kids in my class are right. Maybe Santa's not real." She said the words matter-of-fairly, still focused on her cookie art.
He could still remember when he'd found out. He'd been six, and his mom had just died. He'd been heartbroken.
He didn't want that for her. How could he fix this?
She went on. "Last year, I asked Santa for another pony at the community center. I even wrote two letters."
He hadn't heard this story before, from her or from Carrie.
"And I didn't get one."
He set aside his icing and moved the cookie man onto the wax paper they'd set out for drying. "You have lots of horses, out at the Triple H. What about Peppermint?"
She shook her head slightly. "Peppermint is really Uncle Matt’s. Not mine. I want one that's really really mine. One that I could see every day."
He grabbed a washrag from the drawer beside the sink and started wiping up their mess. "It'd be kinda hard to have a horse here in town. Even if you could talk your mama into letting it sleep in your bedroom, there's not much grass in the backyard for it to eat."
She giggled. "No, that wouldn't work at all. But my school friends would think it was cool."
"Did you talk to your mom about last year's Christmas wish?" He asked the question as casually as possible.
Scarlett finished her last cookie and ducked her head. "A little."
He could imagine how that'd gone. He'd never been able to understand why Carrie wouldn't move back to the Triple H. The property was hers, too. And he figured Matt would love having her around. Gideon would, too. Not that he was there very often.
Scarlett put her icing packet on the counter and hopped off the chair. "It's probably time for my bath and to get ready for bed."
He hadn't been watching the clock. He glanced and saw it was almost eight.
"Do you need help?" Say no. Say no.
"Mama showed me how to take a shower by myself."
"Okay." He got up, thinking he'd better check on Carrie before he hit the deep cleaning.
She turned back at the door. "Trey, do you think you could take me to the Daddy-Daughter dance?"
Oh no. He thought she'd moved on from the dance.
"I don't know, kiddo. Your mama might not like that very much."
She tilted her chin and turned those big baby blues on him. "Couldja ask her?"
Oh, come on, kid.
"Sure."
"Thanks!" She skipped down the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom.
He leaned his hip against the counter, stretched his neck back to stare at the ceiling. How did he get himself into these things?
Obviously, he had a problem saying no, especially when it came to Scarlett. He couldn't help it. He and Carrie had circled around each other for years, with him working at the Triple H, but it hadn't been until Gideon's princess had arrived in town that very first time that Trey'd gotten up the courage to do something about it. They'd gotten real close, real fast, and he'd fallen in love with the both of them. Carrie and Scarlett.
Maybe that was why he was here tonight. Why he hadn't been able to move on yet. Because he was a fool.
He found Carrie sound asleep on the couch. He touched her forehead. Her fever was up again. Her doctor had thought she could ride it out, but Trey couldn't help but worry.
He padded back to the kitchen to get some more Tylenol and refresh her glass of water, glancing at the Christmas tree in the corner on his way. The first thing Scarlett had done when she’d gotten home was plug in the lights. In the darkened living room, the colors beckoned him.
He stood for a long time, staring at the colorful lights on the tree and listening to the sound of Scarlett singing loudly and off-key in the shower.
And wished.
Carrie was hot all over. She'd kicked off her blanket and taken more Tylenol, but nothing worked. She'd meant to tell off Trey for something.... But she couldn't remember. He'd brought her some soup, forced a few spoonfuls of it down. That was good.
So what was she mad about?
"Hey." She heard his voice from far off. Had she conjured him just by thinking about him? "Carrie. Wake up."
His touch was cool against her cheek, and she leaned into it.
"Open your eyes," he demanded.
"Bossy," she mumbled. But it felt important, so she pried her eyes open.
He perched on the coffee table in front of her holding a water cup with a straw in it. He held it out toward her. "Drink."
She did, the water cold enough to elicit a shiver as it slid down her overheated throat.
"Is Scarlett in bed?" She had no sense of time. The room had been dark from the storm outside when she'd fallen asleep. It could be the middle of the night, for all she knew. The tree lights were still on, lighting the room with dim, colorful lights.
"Yeah, for a couple hours now."
That long?
She blinked sleepily, felt like she was trying to come awake through a fog. "Are you going then?"
His mouth tipped. "You anxious to get rid of me?"
In her state, she couldn't work out whether he was teasing or not. "I...don't know."
"One, you're pretty sick, and I'm not leaving until I'm sure you're okay or your brother can get to town."
Oh. The roads.
"Two," he said with a nod, maybe following her line of thought. "I'm pretty sure my truck's frozen to your driveway."
"Oh." She took another drink. Her stomach gurgled.
Of course he heard. "You want something to eat? Some crackers?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
>
He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a box. He also brought a cool, damp washcloth for her to lay across the back of her neck. It was heavenly.
This time, he settled next to her on the couch. He was quiet while she downed a few crackers.
When she was finished, he reached for her. "Let me rub your shoulders. You're all tensed up..."
She should protest, but any argument died on her lips as his fingers prodded achy muscles, sore from fever.
It felt so good.
She didn't mean to, but she leaned in to his touch. "I'm supposed to be mad at you," she said, mostly to remind herself. "But I can't remember why."
He chuckled. "I'm sure you will."
Her head lolled back. "You're good with Scarlett."
She'd been listening in on their conversation while they'd been baking and making noise in the kitchen.
"Maybe too good. She wants you to be her daddy."
She hadn't meant to say that, but there was no taking the words back.
His fingers prodded a knot at the base of her skull, and she sighed.
"For a long time, that's what I wanted too," he said quietly.
They sat in silence. He continued to massage her, his hands moving to her shoulders.
"I'm not going to start liking you again just because of a neck rub." Again? Right. Her feelings for him had never gone away. That had never been the problem.
But her words had opened some kind of door between them.
"You never did tell me," he said, "what it was that I did that scared you off."
She never meant to. Except in her fevered state, her mouth was already moving. "You're so protective that it scares me sometimes."
His hands stilled on her shoulders.
"Rob spent such much time making me think he was trying to protect me, but really he was isolating me from my family and friends, people who cared about me. Then he could do whatever he wanted to me to keep me there."
They sat frozen, his hands still on her shoulders, as if he didn't dare move. She couldn't believe what she was confessing. She'd never opened up to him about her relationship with her ex before. Maybe it was the fever making her so talkative.
"Is that how you think I'd be, if we got married?" he asked. His voice was dangerously low, and she didn't have the energy to face him.
"No. I don't know. Last fall, when you told me not to drive on that rainy day, it felt like... it just reminded me that when you're in a relationship with someone, you give them some control over you."
He was quiet for a long time. She finally shifted, turning slightly, so she could see his face.
"Was it really so bad, leaning on me tonight? Letting me help with Scarlett? Having someone to watch your back when you're sick?"
There was something in his voice. A depth of emotion. A question, one that put a pit in her stomach.
What he was offering was everything she'd wanted for so long...someone to lean on.
She whispered, "It's scary. Too scary."
Or maybe she was a coward. Maybe it was as simple as that.
Rob would've gotten mad. Would've cajoled and tried to convince her she was wrong. But Trey didn't do any of that.
His arm curled around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. Another thing she shouldn't do, but she felt so out of control tonight.
And he was a rock. Steady and dependable, and she needed to lean, just for a minute.
She rested against him, his skin cool against hers. She'd move away in a minute.
Just a minute...
Chapter 6
It was insanely early when Trey woke with a crick in his neck. He was still on ranch time, because the sun wasn't up yet.
The tree lights were still shining, and Carrie was still curled up against his side. She felt slightly cooler, though he'd sweated through his shirt where she'd pressed against his side.
It felt like the perfect place for her. But her words from the night before returned.
He didn't know where to go from here. She couldn't—didn't want to—trust that their relationship would work, and after what her ex had done to her, he couldn't blame her.
He sat there, afraid to move for fear of waking her, half dozing and still wishing that things might be different between them.
The sound of an interior door opening roused him. He doubted Carrie would want Scarlett to see them curled up together on the couch. The girl already had enough ideas.
He started edging away from Carrie, and she moved, her head lolling to the opposite side. And then a quieter sound, one that didn't belong, had him sitting up quick.
Wheezing. Shallow, difficult breathing.
He bolted upright, shaking Carrie's shoulder. "Wake up."
Scarlett came down the hallway, one hand trailing along the wall. Her face was pale, and it was obvious she was struggling for each breath.
"Where's her inhaler?" he demanded.
Carrie still looked like she was in a fog, but coming alert quickly. "There's one in the kitchen. The drawer next to the fridge.”
He raced in there, adrenaline waking him faster than caffeine ever could. He heard Carrie's voice speaking softly to the girl, couldn't make out the words as he yanked the drawer open, almost pulling it off its rollers.
Pencils. Kid scissors. Tape. There.
He grabbed the small inhaler and raced back to the living room. Carrie'd gotten Scarlett to sit next to her on the couch. Her mannerisms were calm and collected, but when she glanced at him, he saw the wildness in her eyes. She was freaking out, which told him this was a true emergency.
He brought the inhaler straight to Carrie. "Here we go, kiddo."
He sat on the opposite side as Carrie helped spray the stuff into Scarlett's mouth. It broke his heart listening to the girl working to inhale. Her breath was choppy, and she couldn't seem to get her lungs full.
If this didn’t work, what would he do? H remembered the image of Scarlet on that hospital bed not too long before. She’d had an inhaler that time, too, but it hadn’t been enough. And now… He stood as nonchalantly as he could manage and crossed to the front window to peek outside. The sun was just coming up, illuminating a silvery, sparkly world. A dangerous world. Everything was covered in ice.
Icicles hung off the houses. His truck was covered, the windshield and windows so thick with it that he couldn't see through to the inside. The roads would be dangerous, maybe even deadly.
When he turned, Carrie was watching him.
He shook his head slightly. "Do you have one of those machines? The ones where it's a mask over her face?"
"A nebulizer," Carrie said. "In my bedroom."
He picked up Scarlett and carried her, not waiting for any kind of argument from Carrie. He got none.
He set Scarlett on the bed while Carrie set up the machine, finally settling a plastic, clear mask over the girl's face.
"Do you want to watch a movie, honey?" She moved a lock of hair off the girl's forehead.
Scarlett nodded.
He jerked his thumb toward the door. "I'm gonna run out to my pickup." And turn it on, de-ice it. Just in case they needed to be ready to go to the hospital.
He pulled his boots and coat on in the kitchen and then headed out. The ice was about an inch thick, and he was praying the hardest he had in a while that that nebulizer thingie would work, because he hated to think what the roads must look like. The safest thing for every person in town would be staying inside with the ice this bad, and it wasn't going to warm up until late this afternoon.
By the time he got back inside, his fingers and toes and nose were numb from cold.
Carrie met him in the living room.
"I left the truck running." She could've probably seen him through the front window, and even now he could see exhaust rising from the tailpipe like steam.
Her cheeks still had a slight flush to them, and he didn't imagine she felt that well. Her hair was tousled adorably. In another circumstance, he might pull her into his arm
s and hold her close.
But he was a good boy and kept his hands to himself.
"I think the nebulizer is doing the trick," she said, hugging herself. "I still want to watch her for a few minutes to make sure we're past the worst of it, but I think the attack is easing off."
Relief crashed into him, and he nodded tightly, holding all that emotion close because he didn't want to scare her again. Not when he didn't have any place to go today except his ice-cold truck if she asked him to leave.
"Was there—?" He had to clear his throat when his voice broke. Embarrassing. "Did I miss some medicine I was supposed to give her last night, or...?"
She shook her head. Her eyes were softer than he'd seen them in a long while and again, he resisted the urge to pull her close.
"Sometimes when the weather gets really cold quickly, it causes an attack. I think we caught it early enough this time that we shouldn't need a hospital trip."
"Good. Good. Great."
He got a head rush so bad that he sat down at the kitchen table so he didn't do something foolish, like faint dead away. He put his head in his hands.
Not his fault. Nothing he could've done.
But he'd been so scared when he'd seen Scarlett struggling for breath... He still felt the squeeze in his heart. What if she hadn't been able to get out of bed? What if the nebulizer wasn't enough?
What if, what if...?
He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see that Carrie had padded into the kitchen.
It was probably the first time she'd voluntarily touched him since she'd decided they weren't going to be together anymore.
She didn't say anything, just stood there a minute with her hand on his shoulder, before she left with a softly murmured, "I'm going to go check on her."
Maybe it was a good thing she'd broken things off. He didn't know if he was cut out to be a dad, not when something like this happened.
A couple of hours later, Carrie cuddled in her bed with Scarlett. Scar's attack had happened so early that it still wasn't even mid-morning yet. Trey was still here. She knew, because she heard him puttering around somewhere else in the house. Maybe the kitchen. But he'd seemed content to check on them sporadically, letting her and Scarlett rest, drowse and watch cartoon princess movies.
Courting Carrie: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 2) Page 5