Christmas On Crimson Mountain

“Why do you care?” she asked, slamming the empty silverware basket back into the dishwasher and closing the machine’s door. She hated how this man riled her but couldn’t stop her reaction to him any more than she could deny the attraction she felt. All she could do was ignore them both.

He pushed the empty glass across the counter. “Just making conversation,” he said as he stood, his gaze steady on hers. There was a teasing light in his eye, and awareness danced across her skin in response. He didn’t seem upset by her rudeness or realize how out of character it was. But she knew and it scared her. “We’re the only two people here so—”

“Actually, we’re not.” She placed her palms down on the cool granite and leaned toward him. “There are two sweet, sad girls in the other cabin who are afraid to make a sound in case they get me in trouble.”

“They don’t belong here,” he said, the warmth in his voice disappearing instantly.

“They don’t belong anywhere,” she countered. “That fact doesn’t make it easier to manage. I’d think you would understand—”

“I’m here to work.” He pushed away from the island. “Not to play grief counselor.”

“How’s the writing going? Is being alone in this cabin inspiring you?”

She thought he’d walk away so was surprised at his quiet answer. “I’m always alone.”

Just when she’d worked up a good temper, one that could hold her attraction at bay, he’d done it again. Let a bit of vulnerability slip through the impenetrable shields he had to curl around her senses.

April understood alone. She knew the emptiness of loneliness but also the safety it provided. She didn’t want to have that in common with Connor, because it was a truth she hadn’t shared with anyone else in her life. If he recognized it in her...

“You don’t have to be,” she said quietly, and the words were as much for her as him. She wanted to believe them even as the fear that lived inside her fought against it.

“Yes, I do.” He ran a hand through his hair, the damp ends tousling. “I’m going to take that shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready when you’re finished. I’ll—”

“Leave it,” he snapped. “I don’t need you to wait on me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t complain to anyone. It’s distracting to have you in and out. Leave the food and I’ll take care of myself. I’m used to it.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before stalking from the kitchen.

April blew out an unsteady breath. She was making a mess of this. Sara still had ties to Hollywood and continued to act when the right roles came along. Not as much since expanding the ranch, but the studio that held the movie rights to Connor’s books was important to Sara. It’s why her friend had agreed to arrange two weeks at the cabin for him. It was also why Sara had asked April to step in and help. April’s talent was caring for people. It was something she enjoyed and a gift she used both at the ranch and while teaching her yoga classes. She normally had an easy way with even the most demanding guests.

But she was at her worst with Connor, and she hated it. As abrasive as he could be, he was also her client, and he’d survived a life-altering tragedy that should make her more sympathetic to him.

She imagined that Connor hated sympathy—she had during her battle with breast cancer. The pitying looks and fake support from the women she’d thought were her friends had added an extra layer of pain to her life. Those so-called friends had said the right things but quickly distanced themselves when the treatments robbed her of strength, her looks and most of her dignity. Only Sara had remained at her side, driving her to and from appointments and helping her to move when Daniel had filed for divorce in the middle of her second round of chemo.

The oven beeped, drawing her from her thoughts. She removed the egg muffins and placed them on a rack to cool. Pulling a plate from the cabinet, she set the table, poured a small glass of juice, then set a bowl of cut melon next to the plate. Connor may not need someone to look after him, but that was April’s job here. She was going to take care of that man whether he liked it or not.

* * *

Hand lifted in front of the heavy oak door, Connor drew in a breath, the cold air making his lungs burn. He welcomed the sharp stab of pain because physical pain helped him remember he was still alive. It was part of the reason he worked out so compulsively—pushing his body to the point of exhaustion gave him a sense of connection to something. Also, Connor had vowed never to be weak again. His weakness was the reason Margo and Emmett had died.

What he was about to do was madness, but he knocked on the door anyway.

It took only a moment for it to open, and he was looking down at a young girl with angelic blond curls, huge blue eyes and a smudge of something across her cheek. The impulse to wipe his thumb across her face was a punch to the heart. He almost turned and ran, even though that would mark him as the coward he was. Emmett had always had a smear or stain on some part of him. His son’s favorite food had been peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, and there was normally a telltale spot of grape jelly on the corner of his mouth and sticky fingers, leaving marks on everything the boy touched.

Connor had often balanced writing with parenting duties if Margo had an appointment or meeting. His preoccupation with his work had sometimes left Emmett, even at five, to slap together sloppy sandwiches for both of them. Emmett loved being in charge, and Connor had been happy to have something to eat that he didn’t have to make. After the accident, he’d spent hours wishing he could have a daddy do-over. He would have put aside his precious words to take care of his more precious son.

“Are you a delivery man?” the girl asked when he stared at her.

He shook his head, not yet trusting his voice when memories threatened to pull him under like a riptide.

“Mommy said Santa Claus uses real delivery people to help bring toys at Christmas so they don’t feel left out because he’s got a sleigh and they don’t. Last year Santa had the delivery man bring me three sparkly ponies and a new set of markers.” She wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Do you like to draw?”

“I like to write,” he answered automatically. “At least I used to.”

She nodded. “I’m good at writing. My teacher said my big G is perfect.”

“Shay, shut the door.” Another voice drifted forward. “It’s freezing.”

A moment later, a different girl appeared behind the little one. They were clearly sisters, although the older girl’s hair was a darker blond and her eyes a deeper blue. “Who are you?” She placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“He likes to write, Ranie,” Shay announced. “But he’s not helping Santa.”

“I need to talk to April,” he told Ranie.

“She’s getting ready to take us to town,” Shay answered before her sister could speak, “to buy games to help us be quiet. The man who lives next door hates kids.” She bounced on her small feet. “We’re going to see the lights and get hot chocolate.”

“I don’t hate kids,” Connor muttered, shifting under Ranie’s gaze. He was certain the girl knew exactly who he was.

“That’s good,” Shay told him. “You should stay away from the other man. He might not like grown-ups either.”

“No doubt,” he heard Ranie mumble.

Instead of making him angry, Connor had the strange urge to smile. He liked this girl standing sentry, still holding on to her sister as she tried to fill the doorway with her small frame. “Where’s April?”

“I’ll get her.” Ranie went to close the door in his face, but Shay stepped forward.

“We have to invite him in,” Shay said, grabbing his hand and tugging him forward before he could react. “He’s nice.”

He fought the need to jerk away from her small hand and allowed himself to be led into the smaller cabin.

“Shay, you don’t know that he’s nice. This man—”

“What’s going on?”

As the door clicked shut behind him, he looked up to see April silhouetted by the late-morning light. She wore a pair of dark jeans and knee-high boots with a thick gray sweater. It was the first time he’d seen her hair down, the gentle red curls falling over her shoulders.

Shay didn’t let go of his hand, and Connor could feel the imprint of her soft skin like a brand. The pain was fierce, radiating up his arm and through his chest to the empty place where his heart used to be.

“You left your phone at the other cabin.” He pulled the device from his coat pocket with his free hand and held it out.

“I could have taken it at the door.” Ranie reached forward and pulled Shay away from him. “You don’t hold hands with a stranger,” she scolded.

“He’s not a stranger.” Shay pushed a curl off her forehead. “He’s April’s friend. He had her phone.” She glanced up at him. “Right?”

April took the phone from his hand, her cool fingers brushing his palm. “Mr. Pierce is staying next door at the cabin,” she told Shay, ruffling the girl’s hair. “He’s busy working, so it was nice of him to bring the phone to me.”

Shay glanced between April and Connor, her mouth dropping open. “But the man living next door hates kids. You don’t hate me, do you?” she asked him, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

“Shay, shut up,” Ranie said on a hiss of breath.

April threw Connor an apologetic look. “I never said—”

“I don’t hate you,” he told the little girl.

She pointed to her sister. “See, he’s nice and my friend and April’s friend and you shouldn’t say ‘shut up.’ Mommy didn’t like it.”

“Mom isn’t here.” Ranie glared at Shay. “She’s—”

“Enough.” April’s tone was firm. “You girls go get your coats, hats and mittens and we’ll head to town.”

Ranie stalked off down the hall, but Shay continued to stand next to him, her chin quivering the tiniest bit. “Do you want to go to town with us and get hot chocolate?”

He started to shake his head when she added, “Because I know you’re nice even if Ranie doesn’t think so. She gets extra grumpy because our mommy died, and that makes her act mean. But she’s really just sad inside.”

The wisdom in those words leveled him. Connor had been used to being angry since the accident. He had cut people out of his life and pushed them away with his moods until the rage inside him felt like all that was left. What if he had held on to the anger so he didn’t have to feel the lingering sorrow of loss?

“Will you go?” Shay asked again when he didn’t respond. “It’s a long way down the mountain, so April said this trip is special.”

“Shay,” April said quietly, “that’s nice of you to offer, but Mr. Pierce has—”

“I’ll go.”

The girl smiled and clapped her hands. “I knew we were friends. I’m going to go get my winter coat. April bought it for me new because in California we don’t have snow. You should wear gloves and a hat because there’s an ice-skating rink in the park downtown and if it’s not too crowded we can try it.”

Connor watched her run down the hall and disappear around a corner before he met April’s dubious gaze. “Does she always talk that much?”

She gave a small nod. “Shay talks and Ranie sulks. Why did you tell her you’d come to town with us?”

“Because she asked me,” he responded, echoing her words from last night.

Her eyes widened a fraction, but she didn’t acknowledge the repetition. “What about writing?”

He shrugged. “I need a break.”

“What about needing the girls to be quiet?” she asked, her mouth thinning. “I’m not going to demand they don’t talk.”

He wanted to press the pad of his thumb to her full lower lip. This need to touch her, to be near her, was a slippery slope that could only lead to complications for both of them. It had driven him across the property when he should be working. Now the thought of April and the girls leaving him totally alone up here on the mountain had him agreeing to a jaunt into town when he hadn’t allowed himself to be social or out in public for years. He was used to being alone, had meticulously carved out the solitary existence he lived. But he couldn’t force himself to turn around.

“I realize that was an unfair request.” He tried to offer a reassuring smile, but his facial muscles felt stiff from underuse. “I’d like a do-over. Please.”

Part of him hoped she’d refuse and he could crawl back into the reclusive hole that had become his life. At least there he was safe. A deeper piece of him needed the companionship and acceptance April could provide. As much time as he spent alone in his apartment in San Francisco, he thought he might go crazy if left by himself on Crimson Mountain. He couldn’t let—

“We’ll leave in five minutes.” April said the words so softly he barely heard her. “And it’s going to be fun, so prepare yourself.”

Something in his chest loosened and it was easier to flash her a genuine smile. “Are you insinuating I’m not fun?”

She let out a little huff of laughter. “Of course not. Connor Pierce, life of the party.”

“That’s me.”

“Grab your stuff, Mr. Party Pants.” She held his gaze for several long moments, then shook her head. “This should be interesting.”

“Thank you, April.” He wanted to say more, to assure her he’d thought this through and it was a good idea. But he hadn’t and, as insignificant as a visit to town seemed, the weight of it suddenly crashed over him, making it difficult to catch his breath. He opened the door, the biting-cold air a welcome distraction.

Fun was no longer part of his repertoire, so he had five minutes to retrieve parts of himself that he’d shut away after the accident. He’d asked for this, and he had to figure out a way to manage it. It was one afternoon in a small mountain town. How difficult could it be?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.