Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio) Page 9

  “ ’Tis the season and all,” Amy reminded her. “But he is kind of a little dickens, too, now that you mention it. And Sophie will fall in love with him.”

  The cat chatter continued, and soon enough Mick finally began draping lights on the tree branches with Sophie’s help. And Jenny was struck once more by how the vision embedded itself deep down inside her, like . . . a vision of the way things were meant to be, or maybe a vision of . . . Christmases yet to come?

  Oh God, I want a baby. A child. With Mick. I really, really do.

  She’d never felt that tug in the same gut-wrenching way she did in this moment. And it was—oh God—downright agonizing. So much so that it forced her to amend her thought from just a few minutes ago. I have everything a girl could want . . . except a baby.

  A baby Mick didn’t desire and would never go for.

  She let out a sigh. How had this happened? A little while ago, she’d been perfectly happy, perfectly thankful for all that was so good in her life. But now, in the mere blink of an eye, she hungered for something she could probably never have, and she feared her world would never again feel quite right without it.

  Sue Ann’s first mistake of the day: She’d taken Amy’s advice and stopped into the bookstore while she and Sophie were out running holiday-related errands. She’d thought, just like when Sophie had played with Trouble, that maybe a few minutes with the new kitten, Dickens, would be a nice little distraction for her. Something to take her mind off that impossible reindeer she wanted so badly. But instead she’d seemed . . . too attached to the tiny gray kitten when Sue Ann had announced it was time to go. Sophie hadn’t wanted to leave, and Sue Ann had seen tears welling in her daughter’s eyes. She knew it wasn’t just the cat—it was everything Sophie was going through right now—but she’d felt like a shrew just the same.

  Her second mistake of the day: going to buy a Christmas tree without realizing she no longer had an easy way to get it home. Because Jeff had taken the SUV and left her with the Corolla. She’d thought she’d been so smart going to Becker Landscaping at a time when she knew Adam wouldn’t be there—he always met up with Logan Whitaker for lunch at Dolly’s Main Street Café on Wednesdays—but she’d dumbly neglected to remember all the little ways her divorce affected her life, right down to no longer having a vehicle good for hauling large items. And though the guys at Adam’s tree lot had suggested tying it onto the roof of her car, she hadn’t felt confident about that solution. Thankfully, though, that one hadn’t been a big problem—Chuck Whaley had taken her address and said they’d be happy to deliver it later this afternoon.

  And Sue Ann’s third mistake? Thinking she was capable of putting up the outside Christmas lights by herself. That’s what she was doing now. Although it felt a lot more like hanging onto a ladder for dear life, wondering how you were supposed to maneuver the lights without falling to your death on the ground, and cursing Jeff all over again. At this moment, though, she wasn’t cursing him because she missed him—she was cursing him for not being here to give Sophie the same, familiar Christmas traditions she’d grown accustomed to, leaving it all to her. It wasn’t about love or attachment—it was only about anger, and maybe also a little about abandonment.

  But I can do this. My mother did it, after all, for all those years, without ever a complaint. Sue Ann’s father had died from a heart attack when she was just a little girl, even younger than Sophie. Her mom had never remarried—had never even appeared to have the faintest interest in any man but her dad, actually—and yet somehow she’d handled every aspect of their lives just fine. So Sue Ann tried to summon her mother’s quiet strength, respecting it all the more now.

  She would have gladly forgone the lights this year, but just like that dumb reindeer, it was one more thing Sophie kept asking for, and one thing Sue Ann had—crazily, it seemed—thought she could provide. So up the ladder she’d gone, and now here she was, wondering how the hell she was ever going to get the string of lights, which trailed down to the snowy yard beneath her, where they needed to go. Yes, she loved her home, situated just a few blocks from the heart of town, but it suddenly seemed so . . . tall. And wide. Why did I ever think we needed a house this big? She might be at this for weeks.

  Unfortunately, though, her thoughts were swept rapidly back to Mistake Number Two when she glanced up to see—oh dear God!—Adam’s pickup meandering down Holly Lane with her Christmas tree in back. Sheesh. She’d been trying to avoid seeing him, not create an awkward one-on-one, face-to-face, in-home encounter.

  Despite herself, her heart pattered rapidly in her chest as he turned into her snow-covered driveway. And as he got out, wearing a flannel shirt under a dark, puffy winter vest—oh Lord, he looked good. Even in flannel, just like at the cabin. He clearly hadn’t shaven in a couple of days, leaving a dark stubble on his jaw, and his hair was again mussed, this time likely from a cold, breezy afternoon at the tree lot. When on earth had she developed a thing for the outdoorsy, rugged type?

  Admittedly, Adam usually looked good, but the effect it had on her had definitely changed. Now she felt it aching in her breasts and—oh boy—tingling between her legs. And she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that she’d had sex with him. In fact, in the days since it had happened, it had started to seem a little . . . like a dream, or a fantasy or something. But seeing him now brought the reality back with startling clarity.

  That’s when she glanced down at herself. She’d changed into ragged blue jeans and donned an old parka over a sweater. An ancient knit hat was tugged down over her ears, and her hair likely sprouted every which way beneath it.

  Not that it really mattered what she looked like, of course. As she’d reaffirmed to Jenny the other day, it had only been a one-time thing. That was the only sane way to handle the situation . . . for oh so many reasons. And that put them back to being friends, just like always. Which was why she shouldn’t feel nervous at all.

  Except that she did. And why had she put on that stupid hat anyway?

  The only good news here was that his arrival gave her an excellent reason to come down off the ladder of death that currently held her. Which, she suddenly realized, was easier thought than done. The lights currently looped around her arm, but coming down meant releasing the firm hug she had on the nearest rung and moving backward.

  And—uh-oh—the first step gave her the sensation of falling, especially when the ladder wobbled. She let out a gasp and grabbed back on as her heart rose to her throat.

  “Whoa there,” she heard Adam say below her, and a glance down nearly stole what little sense of balance she had at the moment. She tightened her grip and tried not to hyperventilate.

  “For God’s sake, Sue Ann, you have to make sure you plant the legs on level ground,” he scolded from below now, his tone calming some as he added, “All right, I’m holding it steady—you can come on down.”

  Hmm—that was easy for him to say. She was still breathing too fast and wondering how she’d gotten herself into this. But coming down sounded good enough that she made herself begin to take those hard, careful, backward steps, all while holding tensely to the sides of the metal ladder. Another, and another—careful, careful—and slowly the snowy ground grew nearer. And then she found herself backing . . . right into Adam’s warmth.

  She sucked in her breath once more, short and fast, then turned to face him as he let go of the metal. His face was right there, close enough to kiss, and he smelled like some combination of brisk winter and musky, sexy man. “Um, thanks,” she said, her heartbeat kicking up again, for entirely different reasons this time.

  “My pleasure,” he said deeply, “but you need to be more careful.”

  They still stood way too close for her comfort, and if she didn’t extricate herself from the position soon, she was going to kiss him—just from sheer instinct and feminine need—so she forced herself to slip out of the narrow space between him and the ladder.

  Okay, there, that was better. Sort of. It
was colder, and not nearly so inviting—but she’d had to stop the madness before it began again.

  “I didn’t really know what I was getting into,” she admitted when she finally found her voice. “Sophie wanted the lights up, and I just want to try to make this Christmas as normal for her as possible, and it sounded like something a grown woman should be able to do—but the house is so big, and it’s a lot harder than I thought.”

  “Sue Ann,” he said as if reasoning with her, “I’ll put the lights up.”

  Something inside her went rigid. Because he was such a good guy—but she wanted to be self-sufficient. In fact, she needed it. “I can’t have you coming to my rescue.”

  “Why not? It’s no big deal. Just some lights. It’s the kind of thing I’m good at. And the kind of thing you’re clearly not good at. I’m happy to do it. It’s not rescue. It’s one friend doing a favor for another.”

  She let out a sigh, conceding. “Okay.” She had to be practical, after all. “And thanks.”

  He just gave his head a short shake, like it was nothing. “After I get the tree inside, I’ll head back out and get started.”

  “Thanks for that, too. Bringing the tree.” Now she was the one shaking her head. “I’m just . . . out of sorts on all this holiday stuff this year.”

  “No sweat. Seriously,” he said. Then he took off toward the truck to haul the tree, hoisting it effortlessly up onto his shoulder like some lumberjack in a way that sort of turned her on. But yikes. You have to stop that. Adam is your friend. Your hot, sexy, skillful-in-bed friend. Sheesh.

  Adam tried not to look at Sue Ann as he carried her Christmas tree toward the old Victorian house’s wrap-around porch. Because ever since she’d backed down that ladder, he’d been fighting off a monster hard-on. Hell—he’d been fighting off arousal every time she’d come to mind since Saturday.

  And it wasn’t like sex was a big, unusual occurrence in his life. He didn’t go out looking to get laid every weekend or anything, but he’d had his fair share of female encounters in the three years since parting with Sheila. Hanging out with his buddies, Mike and Logan, who were chick magnets, had made it pretty easy to get back into the swing of things after the divorce. Of course, Mike was engaged now and didn’t hit the bars as much, but by the time that had happened, he’d pretty much found his footing with women again. So what had taken place with Sue Ann wasn’t some rare event.

  Then why does it keep feeling that way? Why had she stayed on his mind so damn much?

  Because she’s Jeff’s ex. And because you’ve known her your whole life. So that makes it a little weird, that’s all. Those were the reasons he kept giving himself anyway. Yet at moments, he began to wonder . . .

  Maybe he’d agreed to that “forget about it and act normal” thing too quickly. Maybe he’d agreed to it because he just hadn’t seen any other options. Agreeing had seemed simple, sensible in so many ways, and so the words had just flowed out of his mouth.

  And it really remained the smartest way to handle the situation. Especially after the phone call he’d received from Jeff last night—yep, after that, forgetting about it seemed even wiser. He didn’t like the idea of being in the middle of their problems.

  And yet, either way—sensible or not—he’d been cringing inside just now when he’d said the part about one friend doing a favor for another.

  But then, he’d been cringing inside a lot lately. He’d continued barking at the guys who worked for him all week. He’d even caught himself yelling at his black collie, Pepper, last night for jumping up and down and being glad to see him when he got home. Which had been . . . well, ironic, given that he should have been damn grateful there was anybody at home to see him, period.

  Now Sue Ann held the front door open for him and he was squeezing the evergreen through, trying not to break any branches. “To the right, to the right,” she directed him, and despite himself, he liked when his body passed so closely by hers, the same way he’d liked it when she’d backed down that ladder and straight into him.

  Part of him felt guilty—because she was pure, sweet Sue Ann, and he was thinking naughty thoughts about her at the moment. But on the other hand, she’d been a little naughty with him. And he’d loved it. So how could that not permeate his brain?

  Once the tree was inside, he didn’t have to ask where she wanted it—he’d been to Sue Ann’s house plenty of times at Christmas and knew she erected her tree in the center of the big bay window where it could be seen from the street. She already had a container set up there, so he positioned the tree inside as Sophie ran in from the kitchen.

  “You brought our tree!” she said, as wide-eyed as any kid on Christmas morning.

  He paused in his work to give his god-daughter a grin. “When I heard it was yours, I made sure I was the one to deliver it.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Couldn’t miss a chance to see my favorite girl.” And of course he meant Sophie—but just then, he unwittingly found himself glancing over at Sue Ann, who stood by the door looking both disheveled and pretty at the same time, her cheeks red from the cold, and he wondered if she could see the truth in his gaze. Right now, you might be my favorite girl.

  Whether I like it or not.

  “Can you stay and help us decorate the tree?” Sophie asked, her soft brown eyes opening even wider. And, damn, a look like that was hard to refuse, Grinch or not.

  So Adam checked his watch. It was just past three, pretty early to be knocking off from work—but as the boss, he could pretty much do as he pleased.

  Yet . . . a quick glance at Sue Ann said the answer was—crap—probably no. Hell. She was clearly uncomfortable with him after last weekend, and he hated that. “Well, right now I’m gonna go put up the lights outside,” he told Sophie, dodging the question.

  “Can I help?” asked the little blond miniature version of Sue Ann.

  At this, he risked another glance at her mother. “If it’s all right with your mom.”

  He couldn’t read Sue Ann’s eyes even as she expelled a long breath. But then she managed a smile and said, “Of course you can help Adam with the lights. But let’s get you bundled up first. It’s cold out there.”

  “Look!” Sophie said then, pointing, and both Adam and Sue Ann glanced past the tall tree to peer out the window into the yard. “It’s snowing again!”

  Huh. How about that. Just like the clipper that had blown through last weekend, this snow hadn’t been predicted, either, yet it suddenly fell from the sky in thick, pretty flakes that somehow, that quickly, made Adam feel a little bit cocooned there with Sue Ann and Sophie in the big old house on Holly Lane.

  “Guess we’d better get busy,” he said, looking to Sophie—but secretly feeling warm inside all over again just remembering what had happened to him the last time it snowed.

  Seven

  The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me . . .

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  An hour later, snow still fell outside and daylight grew flat as the afternoon waned. When Sue Ann glanced out the bay window to spy Adam and Sophie beginning to build a snowman, she couldn’t hold in her smile. Sophie looked happy—and distracted from her troubles—and that was all Sue Ann could ask for right now.

  Well, wait, that wasn’t strictly true. She could also ask for a full-time job. And though she’d been investigating possibilities the last couple of days, so far she hadn’t found anything. But she wasn’t going to panic. You’re strong, you’re capable, and everything will be fine.

  You won’t lose the house. You won’t lose Sophie.

  Now stop thinking about the bad and focus on the good.

  And the good now even drew her toward the front door—an inexplicable urge to get closer to the scene. Maybe she just needed to latch onto a little of her daughter’s joy in this moment and make it her own. Grabbing an old crocheted shawl she often wrapped up in on chilly nights from the peg board in the foyer, she tossed it around her s
houlders and stepped silently out onto the front porch.

  The whole neighborhood glistened with the fresh snowfall, and though dinnertime approached, most of the houses on Holly Lane sat quiet and still. The only sound was the soft trill of Sophie’s laughter, warming Sue Ann’s heart.

  “Instead of a snowman,” she heard Sophie say to Adam, “can we make a snow reindeer?”

  Adam gave her daughter a come-on-get-serious sort of look. “I’m a talented snow sculptor, Soph,” he said, “but I’m not a magician.”

  And again her daughter’s giggles filled the cold air. “Then, how about a snow . . . cat?” Yes, of course—cats were on her mind now, too.

  Sue Ann watched as Adam narrowed his gaze on the mound of snow they’d already amassed, as if weighing the request, then turned the same speculative look on Sophie. “Okay, a snow cat I might be able to do. But we’re gonna need some twigs for whiskers, so you’d better start hunting.”

  “Yay,” Sophie sang out merrily, then went skipping through the snow toward the tall pines in one corner of the yard—and Sue Ann leaned out beyond the covered porch to see the glowing lights that now outlined the home’s eaves and windows.

  And in that moment, something wrapped around her heart like a blanket, and she realized that—wow, there it was! That cozy Christmas feeling had just begun to flutter through her when she’d least expected it. She hadn’t anticipated it arriving at all this year, yet suddenly it was all around her. And just when she needed it most.

  Neither Sophie nor Adam—intent on snow-sculpting now—noticed her on the porch in the fading daylight, so she quietly moved back into the house, feeling strangely at peace, at least for the moment. Which was surprising because . . . she hadn’t experienced that in a long while. And extra weird that it should come now, when so many new problems had just beset her.

  And as she toted boxes of ornaments and other holiday decorations down from the attic, it didn’t feel like the toil she’d foreseen it being this year. After heading into the kitchen to set out mugs for hot chocolate, she even put on some Christmas music. A moment later, Chris Isaak was singing “Let it Snow,” and as she continued bustling about the house, she found herself silently pushing her problems to the back of her mind, at least for now, and even feeling . . . cautiously hopeful. She wasn’t sure how that had happened, or how long it might last—but she was simply thankful it had. Sometimes taking one day at a time really meant taking even just one hour or one minute at a time, and this hour was one of her better ones.