And he'd followed through. Which led to her telling him to pick her up the next Friday evening for the high school basketball game.
He had.
And the rest was history.
After that initial period of awkwardness, everything with Patricia had been easy.
He'd never felt this sweaty before.
And he hadn't even reached Amber.
Oh, crap. There she was.
Mrs. Pickles had just walked away, and Amber turned a slow circle... and spotted him.
There was no changing his mind. No hiding. If he turned and walked away now, it'd be rude.
"Hey," he greeted her.
"Hey." She smiled, and he couldn't help noticing the slight indent in the left side of her cheek. Not quite a dimple, but a perfect place to leave a kiss.
What was he thinking?
Chuck.
He had to focus on Chuck.
But he also couldn't just lay it out there. He needed to warm her up, first.
"I saw you over here looking a little lonely," he said.
Her smile faltered. "Oh, I—" Something passed behind her eyes, an emotion he couldn't place.
Why had he said that?
"Actually, I saw you over here with Mrs. Pickles, and I was coming to the rescue. Once she starts talking, she doesn't stop."
Amber's gaze flitted away, her lashes descending to hide her eyes. Something about her smile was... off. "Oh, I don't mind Mrs. P. She recommended a couple of books that Bo might like. When I was little—" She abruptly cut herself off. Awkward silence descended between them.
He was botching this.
He was a wingman who needed a wingman.
He craned his neck and saw Chuck standing a couple of yards from the hors d'ouerves table.
He cleared his throat. "Did you get a chance to try the crab stuffed roll-things? I don't think I've ever tasted anything like it before."
He wasn't sure he'd liked it. He was a steak and potatoes kind of guy.
What did Amber like? He'd been so self-absorbed that he’d never noticed if she had favorites, even though she cooked for him and Bo most nights.
"I was actually thinking I might sneak away," she said. She still wasn't quite meeting his eye. "The snow isn't letting up."
He knew she didn't like driving in bad weather. Last winter had been the only time she'd pushed back when he'd asked her to do something for Bo. She'd refused to drive on a night when they'd had some rain and the temperature had dropped below freezing.
But poor Chuck needed his chance.
And Jace wasn't sure he was ready to be under the same roof as Amber until he got rid of this crazy attraction.
"You can't leave yet." He made the mistake of putting his hand beneath her elbow, as if he was going to physically hold her in place.
Her skin was warm, soft like the afghan he'd noticed she liked to curl up with on cool evenings. She looked up at him, surprise etched on her face. Her gaze was open, searching, her eyes framed by long lashes.
He wasn't just attracted, he was ensnared...
No, he wasn't.
He dropped her arm like a hot branding iron.
Tried to make light of it. "C'mon over to the food tables"—where Chuck could intercept them—"and if the roads get bad, I'll drive you home in my truck."
Danger. Danger.
But her smile seemed to even out a little, and she let him usher her through the crowd.
He met Chuck's eyes over a lady's head—one of the few he didn't recognize—and widened his eyes. The guy better make this worth it. Jace was making a fool of himself.
And he hadn't even brought up Chuck yet.
When two couples blocked their winding path, he had to squeeze close to Amber. Her shoulder brushed his bicep, and for the first time, he was aware that her head would fit neatly against his shoulder if he pulled her in close.
He breathed in to try and clear his thinking, but that was a mistake because he got a whiff of something peach.
Chuck. Think about Chuck.
"So..." He didn't know how to ask without being obvious. "Are you seeing anybody? Socially, I mean. Dating. Are you dating anyone?"
She glanced at him sideways. "I only have one day off a week."
He knew that. She took care of Bo from breakfast until bedtime, though Jace had been trying his hardest this year to reserve the hours after Bo's half-day kindergarten for family time.
Was she saying she'd date if she had more time off? She was a young woman. Maybe she wanted more free hours.
He'd never even given it a thought. What a selfish jerk.
"If you wanted—I mean, Bo and I don't need to monopolize your time. Now that winter's coming on, if you need more time off to be with your friends, or go out, you know... that can be arranged."
Had they cranked up the fireplace or something? He felt like he was sweating through his suit coat.
Awkward much?
"Oh." She was looking at the floor. Great job. "I like hanging out with Bo. And with you."
She looked up at him with those expressive eyes, and if it wouldn't have sounded cheesy, he'd have said time stopped.
Danger!
He cleared his throat again. Where the heck was Chuck?
Amber didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she let Jace sweep her through the crowd.
She should've just gone home.
Jace wanted her to date other people.
At least that's what it sounded like.
Unless she was misreading his cues. Which was also possible.
It wasn't like she had a ton of experience. She'd only been on two first dates. Had never made it to a third date with either.
Her whirling thoughts stalled out when they reached the hors d'oeurves tables. They were laden with bite-sized treats, everything from bacon-wrapped asparagus to some elaborate kind of cheese on a cracker, what looked like lamb, and even the crab cake that Jace had mentioned. And then she got a look at the dessert table.
"Oh, my goodness," she whispered. "I don't even know what to try."
"Try one of everything," Jace said.
"You sound like Bo." She said the words teasingly and was rewarded with his open smile. His rare smile.
He started filling a plate.
"That's not for me, is it?" she protested as the food kept piling on.
He grinned. "We'll share it."
Did he realize how intimate that sounded?
Not like someone who wouldn't even dance with her. Yes, she was still stinging from that.
He seemed to be looking over her shoulder, and she turned her head that direction. What was he looking at?
But she only saw faces in the crowd.
When she turned back to him, Jace was smiling down at her.
They moved several paces away from the food tables and tucked in to an empty space along the wall. Outside the window, the snow seemed to be floating down even harder. Thinking about driving home in it made her stomach swoop.
I'll drive you home.
Jace couldn't know how much she wanted the words to be true. She wanted her home to be with him and Bo on the Cantrell ranch.
But it wasn't, not really. She was just the hired help.
"Can I ask why you brought up my relationship status?" she asked.
She might perish of embarrassment if he'd figured out that she'd gotten all dolled up for him.
He winced slightly. "I don't know. I guess... I started thinking about Patricia, and then I realized maybe you had a special someone, and I've been so self-absorbed that I never even thought to ask."
"Oh."
Patricia. His wife.
She knew how much Patricia had meant to both father and son. Bo talked about her often, reminding Amber—and Jace—about some of the special things they'd done together.
Jace rarely brought her up. But Amber had seen him standing in the living room, staring at the family portrait hanging on one wall. More than once, she'd caught him there. Grieving. Missin
g his wife.
Of course Jace hadn't noticed Amber. He had a Patricia-shaped hole in his heart.
Patricia, who'd been a good wife, a great mom. Who didn't come from the kind of mess that Amber did.
It was no wonder he'd never noticed her, because there was no way she could compare.
She shouldn't have even tried. Maybe if she could choke down some of the food on this plate, she could excuse herself and get out of here.
She took a bite of the mini-croissant. It melted on her tongue, her taste buds lighting up.
"Oh, my goodness," she gushed. "This is so good. It puts my cooking to shame."
"No way. You make the best baked mac 'n cheese this side of Oklahoma. With that bacon and the cheese crumbles on top... Mmm."
Her cheeks felt as hot as one of the old-style Christmas bulbs. She had to laugh and shake her head at Jace's antics, the goofy smile he wore.
"I'm serious. You've got skills. Did you learn to cook from your mom?"
"No," she said quickly. Too quickly.
Jace's brows came together. "Your grandma, then?"
"No." She tried for the brightest smile she could come up with. "Self-taught."
She'd raided the local library the first week after Jace had hired her, had borrowed ten cookbooks, and each night after Bo went to bed, had meticulously copied down recipes into a spiral notebook until her eyes had crossed.
And there'd been plenty of times she'd messed up the recipes—once she'd burned an entire pot roast. And since Jace paid for the groceries, she'd raided her meager savings to pay back the grocery fund. She'd never mentioned it to him.
She hadn't realized that getting to know Jace meant feeling like a bug under a microscope. At home, their conversations always revolved around Bo, Bo's schooling, or the next day's menu.
Jace was just being polite, making conversation. Because he didn't know about her background.
She'd done her best to make it disappear, the way she'd disappeared from her old life.
She didn't want it resurrected now, not when she was happy with her job, loved Bo.
She really didn't want Jace to feel sorry for her. Or concerned that she wasn't good for Bo.
The few bites of food she'd managed settled like lead in her stomach.
Jace exhaled, the breath so big that it stirred the fine hairs at her temple. "Look, I'm not very good at this. I have... there's this guy. A friend of mine. And he's… he'd like to ask you out on a date. At least, I think he would. He's kinda shy."
A friend.
Jace wanted to set her up with someone else.
The final fragments of hope that she'd been holding onto crashed and broke into millions of tiny specks.
Jace wasn't interested in her at all.
Her face was on fire, and he was watching her. She couldn't look him in the eye.
"Um." She tried to smile, but her lips wobbled, and she clamped them together. "I don't know what to say." To her horror, she felt hot tears prick her eyes. She blinked rapidly. She couldn't cry in front of Jace! "I've got something in my eye." There. At least her voice hadn't broken. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"
She didn't give him time to answer, just fled, escaped down the nearest hallway. Bathroom. She needed a bathroom.
Or somewhere else to hide. Anywhere.
Chapter 3
Jace had totally screwed that up.
He dumped the plate of half-eaten hors d'ouerves on a passing waiter's tray and spun, scanning for Chuck. He caught sight of Cash Trudeau dancing with a blonde-haired woman Jace didn't recognize.
No Chuck. Seriously, where was he? The dude was supposed to have come over and introduced himself!
Although, judging by Amber's reaction, maybe it was better that he hadn't.
I've got something in my eye.
Liar. After twelve years of marriage, he could recognize when a woman was about to cry.
But why had his words caused such a reaction? All he'd asked was whether she might be interested in going out with a friend of his.
If she wasn't interested in Chuck, no one was going to force her on a date with the guy.
But maybe it hadn't been his fumbling question.
She'd gone quiet when he'd brought up her family. He wracked his brain but couldn't think of a time he'd heard her talk about her family. Which was weird. She was great with Bo. The best. She'd have to have learned that somewhere, right? Maybe she simply wasn't close with her family.
Or maybe he was still self-absorbed. Maybe he should've offered her some time off for the holiday to be with them.
He was such a jerk.
Even more so for not going after her when he’d known she was upset. He and Patricia had had their share of fights, tears, and making up. He wasn't as scared off by a woman's tears as some of his single friends were.
He was more afraid that if he tried to comfort her, he'd end up pulling her into his arms.
Because he'd almost done just that, here in the ballroom. He'd completely forgotten about Chuck.
The only thing that had saved him was Bo.
Bo needed Amber.
Which meant Jace needed to to keep his hands off.
Chuck appeared out of the crowd, and Jace strode up to him, not caring that they were in the middle of lots of nosy ears.
"Where the heck were you? I thought you were coming over to introduce yourself."
The other man looked intimated, and Jace reminded himself that this wasn't his business.
"I was g-going to," Chuck stammered. "But I took another look at her in that dress, and I just... I just..." He shrugged as if Jace would know what he meant.
He had no clue.
"Look," Jace said. "You just gotta gather up your courage and ask her to dance or something, okay?" Jace wanted no more part of this.
He'd hang around awhile longer. Offer Amber a ride home if she needed it. Even better, maybe he could just follow her in his truck, make sure she made it back to the ranch safely. Without being in the same vehicle.
He was a coward.
"Please," Chuck said. "I'm begging you. The last girl I had a crush on ended up marrying my best friend."
Ouch.
But still, not Jace's problem.
Chuck kept going. "If you could just talk to her one more time for me. Please. Tell her I think she's beautiful. And that I admire her."
Jace shook his head. This was over his head. He was out.
Except he couldn't quite erase the memory of her eyes filling with tears, ones she'd quickly tried to hide.
He'd messed up, somehow.
He didn't care about Chuck, one way or another. Not really.
But he needed to make things right with Amber.
For Bo's sake.
Amber ducked into what must have been a guest bedroom somewhere in the back of the sprawling house.
Mansion. Just call it what it was.
A house that Amber would never be able to afford, not in her wildest dreams.
It was dark, and that was good. She didn't turn on the light.
Blinded by tears now, she stumbled over the corner of the bed and couldn't help a small cry.
"Ouch. Are you okay?"
Crap. Double crap.
That was a woman's voice. Someone was in here.
"Yeah. I'm f-fine." Her voice broke, betraying her.
But the overhead light didn't go on.
A softer light did. From an attached bathroom.
Amber was peripherally aware of the unknown woman's shoes tapping on the tiled floor, then going quiet again when she walked on the plush carpet.
A wad of tissues was pressed into her hand.
"Th-thanks," she whispered.
And then her throat was too clogged with tears to say anything else.
She sat on the end of the bed. It dipped when the mystery woman sat next to her.
She hated crying in general. Her face puffed up and turned a blotchy red.
Crying in front of anyone else... even
worse.
But she couldn't seem to stop the tears. She'd put so much hope into tonight's event. Didn't she know how dangerous hope could be?
"Is there anything I can do?" the mystery woman asked.
Amber mopped at her face, even though she was still crying. "I d-don't think so." She hiccupped.
"Can I call someone for you? Your husband? Or boyfriend? Sister? Mom?"
Amber laughed through her tears, the sound slightly hysterical. "None of those."
The other woman was silent for several moments, long enough for Amber to take several deep breaths as she tried to get ahold of herself.
"I'll be all right," Amber said. Her tears were finally starting to dry up.
She'd come through worse than this rejection, hadn't she? It might hurt for now, but she wasn't going to die. Even if she did feel humiliated and hopeless.
"Is it man trouble?" the mystery woman asked.
Amber gave another teary laugh. "That obvious?"
She sighed. "Just a feeling. I'm having some of that kind of trouble myself."
Amber might not be acquainted with the woman sitting next to her, but she'd showed compassion and consideration, and Amber felt a little kinship with her.
"Why does it have to be so hard?" the mystery woman asked. "Actually, my situation is kind of my fault."
Amber bit her lip. Why not spill it all? It wasn't like she knew this woman. "The man I've been in love with for months just told me about a friend he wants to set me up with."
"Ouch. That sucks."
There was a beat of silence.
"Did he name this friend, or was it more like, 'I've got this friend...'" The mystery woman shifted on the bed. "Just curious."
"The latter." Amber wiped beneath her eyes with the tissue. Her tears had run dry. If she could wait another few minutes, the red blotches on her face might fade enough that she could sneak back through the ballroom and make her escape.
"I don't know your situation," mystery woman said, "but maybe your guy was talking about himself."
"What?" That sounded a little out there to Amber.
"Is there any reason he might not want to come on too strong?"
Amber considered. "I’m his son’s nanny."
"Aha." Mystery woman sounded way more upbeat than Amber could muster. "Maybe he wanted to broach the idea without you knowing it was him, to feel things out. Then if you said no, it wasn't an outright rejection."
The Nanny’s Christmas Wish Page 2