by Toni Blake
Shane took that in, nodded, then walked out the door, heading toward the little shed at the rear of the driveway, painted the same color as the house. Hell, maybe he should have said more—and not about her dad. More about his feelings for her. But he wasn’t sure exactly what his feelings were.
Or . . . maybe he knew but just wasn’t sure it made sense to say so. That he cared about her, too. Maybe even loved her. He wasn’t entirely sure where that line lay.
And his head was so screwed up right now . . . and he wasn’t the kind of guy who sat around thinking about his feelings—measuring them, labeling them. Even on the best of days, let alone the worst. So it was better he’d shut up.
Damn, the snow was deep. He followed the path Walter and Anita had left through the new foot of it that now covered the walk and nearly reached the top of the tires on Candy’s sedan. He waded through the sea of thick, fluffy white, the cold biting at his cheeks and nose, until he’d gotten the shovel and started the job. And it was slow going. But it felt good to let the cold and hard work dissolve some of the heaviness inside him.
He’d just started making some headway when Mick Brody’s truck pulled up and Mick started unloading a snowblower. “Figured you could use some help.”
“Wouldn’t turn it away,” Shane said. Because, yeah, there were weird upsides to shoveling at the moment, but he’d already realized the sheer volume of snow here was going to make this a Herculean task.
Mick started at the foot of the lengthy driveway while Shane kept shoveling at the other end. And he thought they were going to work in companionable silence—until Mick said loudly over the noise of the blower, “None of my business, but heard you got some big news yesterday. You, uh, want to talk about it or anything?”
Hell. What was it with everyone talking about everything here? “No.”
Mick chuckled. “No worries, dude, I get it. Not big on that kinda thing myself. Just felt like I should . . . say something, I guess. It’s . . . a big thing.”
Shane kept shoveling. “Thanks, but I’m good.” Then he paused, shook his head. “Damn, news travels fast here.”
“Well, Anita’s marrying my father-in-law,” Mick pointed out. And maybe the reminder was helpful, since sometimes it was hard to keep track of all the various ways people were linked and connected here. “But yeah, I know, it does. Took me a while to get used to that, everybody knowing everybody else’s business.” He gave his own head a short shake. “Believe me—never thought I’d want to be part of a place like this. But here I am.”
And he sounded content enough about it. So Shane asked, “What changed?”
Mick stopped pushing the snowblower. “Everything.” Then he pointed vaguely in the direction of his cottage up the road. “Jenny. She just changed the things I thought I wanted. Or . . . gave me more than I thought I could have. And for a guy who used to keep to myself, it’s a switch for sure. But the people in this town—yeah, they might talk a lot and they might stick their nose in your business, but they’re good people.”
“Is she good people? Anita?”
Mick nodded. “She’s pretty much been a grandma to my son since he was born. I wouldn’t let just anybody do that. She’s had a lot on her plate lately, but she’s a strong woman—steady as a rock.”
Shane sighed, taking all that in. Then he went back to shoveling. A signal to Mick that he was done talking.
Mick took it, and they finished the driveway and front walk in relative silence other than occasional small talk about less intense topics.
When the driveway was done and Shane had thanked him for the help, he said to Mick, “I bet you’re the most popular guy in town today with that snowblower.”
Mick just laughed. “Yeah—after I do Miss Ellie’s, I’ll head into town and see about the sidewalks in front of the Mercantile and Under the Covers—or if anybody else needs some help. And after that, guess I’ll head to the church and find out what’s happening there.” He sounded doubtful about that last part already, though. Like it was probably a foregone conclusion that there wouldn’t be a wedding there on Christmas Eve—even if, like Walter, he still held out a little hope.
Despite the cold, Shane puttered around a little more outside after Mick left. He found a bag of rock salt in the shed and sprinkled some on the walk to keep it from being slick. Then he cleared the snow off the car with a broom.
His muscles were good and sore by the time he finally slid the shed door shut. And he’d done some more thinking since Mick had left, too. There was a lot to piece together inside him right now. And yet . . . maybe he was beginning to feel some of those pieces slowly . . . falling into place.
The warmth of Candy’s house wrapped around him the moment he stepped back inside. And when she greeted him with a big mug of hot chocolate, he tried not to laugh. As she took his gloves and coat, then tossed a cozy throw around his shoulders, he winked and said, “A guy could get used to this.”
And he saw a flash of something in her eyes—like hope. But it disappeared just as fast. And he hated that. Hated disappointing her. Hated it in a way he felt in his gut. Because she deserved better. And she was . . . possibly the best person he’d ever known.
So he didn’t hold back on what he was thinking now. Maybe the cold and hard work had muddied his head. Or . . . maybe it had cleared it. Either way, he said, “I’ll think about it, Candy Cane.”
“About what?” she asked.
“About . . . staying.”
Her eyes lit—and something in his stomach tightened. Because he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything.
It was simply that . . . maybe things were changing. Inside him. The same way they had for Mick. Maybe just hearing a guy like Mick—like him—acknowledge that, made it easier to acknowledge in himself.
“Not just for Anita, though,” he told her.
“No?”
He shook his head, and was honest. With himself as much as with her. “For you. Because thing is . . . hell, I don’t know much about love, Candy, but I’m thinking . . . I might just love you, too.”
Twenty-three
“Would you tell that guy I’m giving him the chance of a lifetime?”
Sam Wainwright, It’s a Wonderful Life
Candy looked understandably shocked, of course, her chest heaving slightly beneath the sweater she wore. He could feel her wanting to believe but also being afraid to. And with a guy like him, a guy who’d told her over and over that he was trouble and this was temporary, he couldn’t blame her.
But the difference between her and pretty much every other woman he’d ever known was . . . she wasn’t holding him to anything. She wasn’t pushing him, or pulling him, or prodding him—she wasn’t trying to make him do what she wanted. She’d let him just take his time and think about what he wanted.
“And I’m starting to think I’d be a fool to leave you,” he told her. “That we should at least . . . see where things go. Between us.”
Still, she appeared cautious as she asked softly, “What about the job?”
The job. God, it hardly seemed to matter at the moment. And the truth was, as hell-bent as he’d been on getting to Miami, he hadn’t thought about the job much at all lately. It had fallen to the sidelines of his mind, behind Candy, behind Grampy and Edna, behind the Christmas party, behind the town of Destiny.
“It was . . . well, someplace to run to, if I’m honest. But what am I running from now?” He gave his head a slight shake. “I didn’t have anything before, but now . . . I’m thinking maybe I do.”
Candice had been trying to contain herself up to this point, but she felt herself starting to give in to . . . real hope for a future with him. She let herself begin to nod, meeting his gaze with her own. “You do, Shane,” she promised him. “You do.” Then she took the cup of hot chocolate from his hands, set it aside, lifted both palms to his stubbled, still-cold cheeks, and kissed him.
The warmth of his kiss poured through her, along with the joy of realizing dreams she�
�d been afraid to dream were actually maybe starting to come true. Part of her almost couldn’t believe Shane had really just said he loved her, too, and that he might actually stay in Destiny, after all. But on the other hand, his staying made all the sense in the world. Now even more because his mother was here.
She got lost in the kisses as Shane’s strong arms closed around her, wrapping her up in the cozy blanket with him, cocooning them together. She was so thankful she’d allowed him to . . . make her brave, with him, and with changing things in her life. Because look at them now.
When the kissing ended, she smiled up at him, her hands pressed to his chest, and said, “Maybe you should shovel snow more often if this is the effect it has on you.”
They laughed together, and then snuggled on the couch near the lit Christmas tree. Frosty, predictably, jumped up and tried to wedge his way between them, but mostly ended up just sprawled across both their laps.
As Shane leaned his head back on the couch, she realized he was drifting to sleep, clearly tired from all the snow-shoveling, despite that it was early in the day. She was happy to just sit there, still cuddled with him, and soak in her new joy.
Of course, he’d only said he’d think about it—so maybe she shouldn’t go assuming this was a done deal. But on the other hand, for a man like Shane, this felt . . . big. She was pretty sure he didn’t go professing his love to a woman just every day. And up to now he’d sounded so determined to leave—Miami had seemed to represent such a new beginning to him that he’d refused to let go of that idea, to see that he could have a better new beginning someplace else. Until now. So it felt to Candice like . . . like he’d finally seen the light. And sometimes that really happened.
Other times it didn’t. Wherever her father was, he’d never seen the light and come home. Bobby had never exactly seen the light, either. So maybe she’d lost faith in that somewhere along the way—faith in the notion that someone could suddenly just get it, change their mind, see what was good for them, what was right.
But now, suddenly, a future so much richer than anything she’d dreamed of was unfolding before her. She’d watched Tessa and so many other women find their unlikely Prince Charmings these past few years, and secretly she’d envied them, thinking she’d never get her own. And now Shane was changing that.
She soon gave in to the quiet, peaceful lull of the snow-covered day and let herself drift off to sleep against Shane’s shoulder. Curled up against him and surrounded by warmth of so many kinds, it was the sweetest nap she’d ever taken.
She awoke an hour later to the gentle stirrings of Shane waking up, too. He seemed slightly surprised as he gave her a soft grin. “Whoa, I nodded off.” Then he shifted his gaze toward the clock on the mantel. “What time is it?”
“Almost three,” she replied, coming more fully awake.
That was when he got a faraway look in his eyes, something wistful she thought, and said, “If the roads are clear enough, would you mind driving me into town? To the church? Thinking I should see what’s happening there and if I can help.”
“Of course,” she said. But she didn’t make a big deal out of it. Out of the fact that he obviously cared enough about Anita’s wedding to want to help make it happen.
She also didn’t make a big deal out of it when he picked up the picture Anita had left with him before they walked out the door. Although it was framed, it was small enough to fit in his coat pocket, so he silently tucked it there.
Clearly he was dealing with this situation in his own way. She knew he still had a lot of questions and confusion over what had happened to keep him and his mother apart all these years, but the very idea of his staying told her he was open to having her in his life. And Candice knew in her heart that was the best possible thing for both of them.
When they pulled up in front of the church, numerous cars and trucks populated the parking lot and the front doors stood wide open, making it clear people were inside assessing the situation.
“I’m having dinner at my mother’s tonight at seven,” she told him. “If you’d like to come.” She felt a little sheepish just blurting that out, but honesty and openness seemed to work for her with Shane. “The truth is, word gets around in Destiny, and she’s dying to meet you. But no pressure if you end up being here late or just want to hang out with Grampy or something. Whatever works for you.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you don’t hear from me by six or so, assume I’m still helping out and I’ll see you at your place later. Sound okay?”
She nodded, reminding him. “Back door’s unlocked.”
And he gave his head a short shake next to her in the car. “That’s been driving me crazy, by the way.”
But she just rolled her eyes. “This is Destiny, Shane. It’s safe.”
It surprised her a little when he laughed—until he said, “It’s safe until some ax murderer type shows up at your door in a blizzard. You weren’t so sure it was safe then—remember?”
She lowered her eyes sheepishly. “Well, turned out you weren’t an ax murderer after all.”
He gave her a sexy wink across the car. “Still trouble, Candy.”
And as her whole body warmed, she cast him a small smile and said, “Well, if you’re trouble, then it’s the kind I’m looking for. And you can come to my door anytime.”
And that was when he leaned over, placed his palm at the nape of her neck, and gave her a slow, steamy kiss goodbye. She watched him get out, thinking if he wasn’t up for dinner with her mom tonight, it was no biggie—maybe he’d had enough of moms since yesterday. And on a lark, she lowered the passenger window and bent over to say, “Whether or not you come to dinner, afterward . . . you’re going to be my dessert.”
She watched his eyes widen for only a second before putting the window up and driving away, reveling in the new sense of confidence and sexuality Shane had given her. Or . . . given her back, after it had been stolen away so long ago.
Shane stood back watching and listening as Mick, Duke, Logan, and some of the other guys discussed the situation. Even as personally uninvolved in all this as he’d been up to now, it was a blow to see the newly replaced carpet and pews nearly as bad off as they’d been when the repairs had started a couple of weeks ago. Part of him couldn’t believe his mother’s bad luck.
The guys were, in turn, shaking their heads, mumbling things like, “Doesn’t look good” and “I don’t know about this, man.”
And it was finally Mike Romo who spoke up to say, “In the interest of keeping it real, I’m gonna say what nobody else wants to. It can’t be fixed in time. It’s two days until Christmas Eve and it’s physically impossible. Hell, we’d be hard put to have it back together by New Year’s. I know nobody likes the idea of throwing in the towel on this, especially after all the hard work that’s been put in, but the sad truth is—there’s not going to be a wedding here on Christmas Eve.”
The conversation continued, but Shane quietly slipped out, exiting through the front doors and back into the snow-covered Destiny day, and started making his way to the General Mercantile. He wasn’t even sure why he was headed there at this point—he could easily call Candy and ask her to come back for him—but his mind was muddled by this news. Yeah, he’d heard Walter say the outlook was grim, but somehow he’d expected to get there and find a different conclusion. The people around here seemed pretty damn resourceful, and he supposed he’d just been waiting for some kind of Christmas miracle.
And now that there was no miracle . . . hell, maybe it brought him down a little from whatever cloud he’d been on the last few hours. Maybe it reminded him that nothing here was simple. Anita’s wedding—or the cancellation of it—wouldn’t be simple, and nothing about his relationship with her was simple.
And the cold hard truth was . . . he’d been suddenly acting like things with Candy were simple, but were they? Could any woman really be as giving and loving and undemanding as she seemed? Sure, she’d kind of blown his mind and hardened h
is cock with her promise of having him for dessert a little while ago, but realistically—how long would that last before it got more complicated?
Maybe it was a stupid worry just now, but somehow the news that his mother’s wedding wasn’t going to come off as planned dropped a heavy dose of reality on him, thick as the blanket of snow that covered the ground and had collapsed the church roof again.
As he reached the Mercantile, he could see that Mick or someone else had cleared the snow away out front, and the parking lot had been plowed. He started toward the stairs in back that led to his rooms—when Grampy came out the front door, all bundled up in a parka and classic plaid hunting cap that covered his ears.
It was the first time he’d seen the old man since he’d gone rushing off in a sleigh, leaving Shane with a Santa suit and a job he didn’t want—only about twenty-four hours ago, but it felt like much more time had passed given all that had happened between then and now.
Grampy cut right to the heart of things. “Heard ya got some shockin’ news.”
That was part of what had made him decide to leave the church—the sudden notion that once attention shifted from the repairs, it would turn to his shockin’ news. So he’d run into exactly what he’d been trying to escape. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said, and kept on his path around the building.
It came as a relief when Grampy replied, “Fair enough. I’ll leave ya alone then.”
And normally Shane would have kept walking—but curiosity got the best of him when he remembered he wasn’t the only one dealing with some drama. So he stopped, looked back. “How’d things go with Edna?”
Grampy broke into a big smile, maybe even bigger than when he’d seen his Christmas tree. “Real well. Real well indeed. And it’s thanks to you.”
This news did Shane’s heart some good. “Well, I’m glad it’s working out for you.” He nodded, cast the old guy a cursory smile, then went on his way again.