“ARE YOU OKAY?” Mitch skidded to his knees in the snow and gathered Laurel into his arms. His heart was pounding, his hands shook and he was cold, inside and out. “Laurel, are you okay?”
Laurel nestled against him, and his arms had never felt so full. “I don’t like ice-skating, snowshoes or body sledding.”
“That’s a joke, isn’t it? You didn’t hit your head on the way down, did you?” Mitch ran his fingers beneath the multiple loops of knit scarf. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
“When my heart stops racing, I’ll let you know.” Her eyes were shut tight.
“Oh, my gosh, Laurel.” Sophie had descended the hill at a much slower pace, walking in her snowshoes. “You about gave me a heart attack.”
“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Roy draped Mitch’s jacket over his shoulders, not that it warmed him at all.
“No ambulance.” Laurel opened her eyes. They weren’t dilated. “I’m just a klutz, but I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” Mitch asked, drawing her closer still. Fear eating his insides. “The babies...”
“I feel like someone put me on the spin cycle in the dryer.” Laurel stared up at Mitch and tried to smile. “I don’t think I need medical care.” She levered herself out of Mitch’s arms and stood on her own two feet. “Although a hot shower would be nice.” She was dusted in snow from head to toe and her bright red hair was in disarray.
Sophie brushed off the snow and tried to fix her hair a little, at least until Laurel told her it was fine.
“I’m okay. Really.” She laughed a little, and then laughed harder, that hardy-har-har. Her cheeks turned pink. “I’m so embarrassed. Did everyone see me fall?”
“Probably only me and Sophie.” Mitch helped her across the highway and back to the inn.
“I missed the whole thing.” Roy trailed behind them with Sophie, sounding remorseful.
“If you’ve seen snow plunge down a mountain, it probably looked similar, just with more color.” At least Laurel’s sense of humor was still intact.
Still, Mitch didn’t want to remember how she’d tumbled and how his heart had gone along with her. She could have hurt herself on a bush or a fallen log. There were some on the slope. They climbed the inn’s steps slowly. Mitch threw open the door, surprising Gabby, who stood behind the check-in desk staring down at her phone, the same phone that should have been in the drawer in their kitchen.
Gabby jumped, spun and bounced off the apartment’s door frame. She stumbled back and fell on her butt. The phone skittered away.
“She wasn’t expecting you,” Zeke called out from his position on the sidelines by the fireplace, leg propped parallel to the floor.
Mitch escorted Laurel to the couch and then hurried to help his daughter to her feet. Gabby’s nose was bleeding and she was wheezing like a punctured tire.
“Da-ad...”
“I’ve got you.” Mitch tilted her head back and pinched her nose. “I’ve got you.” He led her into the bathroom in their apartment, trying to temper his competing emotions. Which was hard, considering he’d gone from the cold adrenaline rush of fear after seeing Laurel fall to the sudden hot rush of anger at discovering his daughter defying him once more.
“I’m sorry,” Gabby said, minus the lisp. She hadn’t put in her retainer this morning.
Strike two.
“Sit.” He wet a washcloth and put it gently over her nose. “Pinch.”
Gabby was crying, snuffling as she breathed through her mouth. She knew what she’d done was wrong. She shoved her retainer in. “I wad taking a pik-dure of mydelf for Mom.” The retainer only made her nose-pinched speech worse. “She called da house and wanted to dee what I look like withoud my blaces.”
A test, he was sure, set up by Shannon to see who Gabby would obey.
“I wasn’t the perfect child, either.” Laurel spoke from inside their kitchen.
“You shouldn’t be up.” Mitch went to Laurel and guided her into a seat at the kitchen table. “You might have a concussion.”
“I didn’t hit my head. Besides, I’ve been watching Alexander and Andrew’s technique of the cannonball move. I tucked and rolled. Sometimes it felt like I was flying.” Her lower lip trembled. She wasn’t as unaffected as she’d have him believe.
Gabby shrieked from the bathroom. “Daddy! I bloke my nose.” She ran into the kitchen. “I bloke id. I bloke id. I lofed my nose. My cute liddle nose. Id’s huge!”
Blood dripped onto the linoleum and her T-shirt from her bulbous nose.
Mitch returned to his daughter’s emergency and guided Gabby’s hand with the cloth back to her nose. “Pinch, pinch. Pinch it until it stops bleeding.” He settled her into a chair next to Laurel. “Once the bleeding stops we’ll get you an ice pack, Gabby. And then I’ll call the medical advice hotline for you and Dr. Carlisle for Laurel.”
“See?” Roy was in the kitchen, too. He looked back over his shoulder at Shane, who hovered behind him. “We need a town doctor.”
With one hand on a shoulder of each of his nephews, Shane appeared worried. Sophie stood near the door, removing her jacket. She seemed worried, too.
“I’ll be fine,” Laurel repeated firmly. “We’ll both be fine.”
“Nod me.” Gabby wheezed. “Look ad my nose!” She removed the washcloth, letting blood flow.
“Gabby, please.” Mitch again put the washcloth on Gabby’s nose.
“I’ll call the doctor,” Shane said in a take-charge tone. “You keep things calm in there.”
Half an hour later, Dr. Carlisle was satisfied with Laurel’s condition—no abdominal pain, no cramping, no dilated eyes. Apparently, falls during the first half of pregnancy weren’t as serious as falls in the last trimester. And the medical clinic offered advice for Gabby’s care that wasn’t much beyond tilting her head up, pinching her nose and then making sure she could breathe through each nostril.
“Someone will need to stay with you the next few days,” Mitch said to Laurel. “If you feel dizzy or queasy, if your ears ring or your head hurts, you need to speak up immediately. You heard the doctor.” Shane had put her on speaker. “She said you could have a concussion even if you don’t have a bump on your head.”
Wide-eyed, Laurel nodded.
“What about me?” Gabby stared up at Mitch with eyes that were red rimmed and puffy. Her nose had stopped bleeding and she was speaking clearer now that the tears had stopped. “How do you know my nose isn’t broken?”
“Because the only thing broken in this house—” Mitch finally let his simmering anger and worry bubble over. He used his foot to slide Gabby’s cell phone from beneath the table “—is this phone.” He plucked it up, removed the battery and stowed it in the safe in the pantry cupboard. When the safe clicked closed, he felt like he could breathe again.
That was when Gabby really started to cry.
“WHAT ARE YOU gonna do?” Roy demanded of Shane as Mitch helped Laurel upstairs. “We need a doctor in town.”
Shane nodded, watching Sophie and the twins follow his cousin up the stairs.
“Did you see all that blood?” Alexander dragged his feet.
“It was awesome,” Andrew said, passing him on the stairs. “Wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Alexander agreed.
“Boys,” Sophie scolded from a few steps above them. “It’s not nice to find blood awesome.” She sounded as anxious as Shane felt.
What if one of the boys had ridden their sled past the barrier on Sled Hill and onto the ice? What if they’d hit their head or fallen through? What if Laurel developed a concussion? Or began to miscarry? The road to the nearest hospital was long and often closed. Worry turned into icy fear. How was he supposed to protect his family?
Mitch was right.
Shane had been thinking too broadly. He’d lost sight of the important everyday details.
“Shane.” Roy shook his shoulder. “What are you gonna do?”
Shane acknowledged the concern, but was still at a loss as to a quick solution. “Mitch said he’s already advertised for a doctor. What else can I do? Kidnap someone?”
Roy chewed on those words as if Shane had been serious. “You know...that idea’s not half-bad.”
Zeke chuckled.
Shane gave the cowboy a hard look.
Zeke shrugged. “The entertainment never ends around here. I should have broken my leg and moved in sooner.”
Roy’s eyes gleamed. “We can do this.”
“Must be some way I can help.” Zeke grinned. “I fully support any plan to bring a doctor to town.”
“Don’t encourage him.” Wanting to reinforce he wasn’t interested in the wild scheme, Shane checked his cell phone, despite not hearing any new messages come in. Not even from Holden.
“Hear me out, Mr. Highfalutin Monroe.” Every white whisker on Roy’s face bristled. “It’s like Mitch said. Every doctor we’ve had has been reluctant to take the job until they see that view. We just need to invite this doc of Laurel’s up here—”
“On one of her days off, which will also need to correspond with the mountain passes being clear.” Shane shook his head. “Impossible.”
“You could ask her out to dinner.” Zeke tapped his leg brace as if reminding Shane how his life had been saved by a doctor in town. “If you bring her on a Friday, Ivy’s special includes french fries.”
“You’re scaring me now.” Shane backed toward the door. “You two almost sound serious.”
“Her cross-cut fries are the best,” Roy said eagerly. “What do you say?”
Shane’s phone buzzed with a text, saving him from answering.
Holden.
What do you want me to do about Aunt Genevieve?
Laurel needed monitoring for several days. Much as his aunt was a pain in the butt, she was Laurel’s mother. Aunt Genevieve’s attitude would change once she learned her daughter was pregnant. He hoped.
Shane texted back.
Bring her here.
Why not kill two birds with one stone? Get Holden to see there were real people here, people Grandpa Harlan had cared for. People who were their responsibility to care for. They were Monroe tenants after all.
“What do you say, Shane?” Roy demanded sharply. “Are you with us?”
“Yeah,” Zeke seconded. “Will you ask this doctor to dinner?”
“Gentlemen, I’m going to think on that.”
Because there were dates, which could end badly—no harm, no foul—and because there was kidnapping under the guise of a date, which could end with someone in prison.
“I CAN’T SLEEP down here.” Laurel snuggled deeper into the corner of the couch and adjusted the blue-and-brown quilt up to her neck.
Mitch had insisted Laurel sleep downstairs, where people could take turns watching both injured patients—Laurel on the couch, Gabby in a sleeping bag with extra pillows on the floor. Laurel had changed into her silky menswear pajamas because Mitch had insisted she be comfortable.
Comfortable?
There was no way she could relax with Mitch watching her every breath. Besides, if there was something wrong with her, if they did have to rush her to the hospital or the doctor, she shouldn’t be wearing pajamas. She should be dressed.
Comfortable?
Laurel had too much to worry about. “I can only sleep upstairs.” An exaggeration, since she’d dozed during Shane’s watch.
“If you’d like to go to sleep, stop talking,” Mitch said in a rumbly whisper from the other side of the couch. It was midnight, the time he usually paced. By rights, he should look worn-out and haggard. Instead, he looked rested and handsome.
“Jeez, you’re so tense. Shoulders to your ears. Legs tucked to your chest. And your voice... I didn’t help, I’m sure, when I lost my cool with Gabby earlier.”
It was true. She became apprehensive when tension grew and voices rose. Laurel tried to shrug, but there wasn’t a huge difference between her shoulders and her ears. “It’s who you are. My mother has a bark, too. But yours is more about protecting what you love...” While her mother’s was merely territorial.
His gaze sharpened, an attorney looking for proof. Or perhaps a father looking for reassurance, because his gaze drifted to Gabby, and he said, “You think I went too far? Confiscating her phone with no return date in sight?”
“No.” She caught his hand, caught his eye. “In this case, I think the punishment fits the crime.”
“Then what’s bothering you?” His fingers curled around hers.
“I’m going to be a mother and I can’t seem to hold my ground.” To put herself first. To put her babies first. To stand firm on her principles. “Unless that ground is thousands of miles away and I’m snowed in. This is the longest I’ve held out against my mother’s wishes.”
“Once your babies are here you’ll have their backs, the way you’ve had Ashley’s.” His eyes took on that kind look she liked so much. “And you’ll develop a bark of your own. But, Laurel, who’s got your back?”
She didn’t have to look far for an answer. It was there in his dark eyes—him. Mitch Kincaid, former defense attorney.
“Go to sleep, Laurel. Don’t worry.” But there was nothing restful in his gaze. It energized. It magnetized. It crystallized the attraction between them until it was an almost-tangible thing.
“I can’t sleep with you looking at me,” she grumbled, feeling restless and unsettled once more. It had nothing to do with how Mitch stared at her. Nothing to do with how much she’d enjoyed his kiss.
“You didn’t have a problem with me looking at you this morning at the trading post.” He’d recognized nothing, all right. As an attorney, he was probably trained to identify nothing and know it meant something.
Laurel huffed her answering smile out of existence, hoping the babies wouldn’t get any ideas. “Now I’m really not going to be able to go to sleep. It’s getting hot in here. I should go upstairs.”
“Hotness.” He chuckled, the sound fading slowly into a sigh. “All kidding aside, I won’t be able to get any rest if I can’t check on you.”
The babies heaved a heartfelt sigh, getting ideas about couches and kissing.
“I guess that means we’ll have to talk about something else.” Something besides hotness and watching her back. Laurel cast about her brain for a topic. Pacing was out, as was anything to do with Gabby, dresses or Hollywood. “How did your town council meeting go today?”
He took his own sweet time answering. “Shane surprised me. He always comes across as something of a...”
“Jerk,” she finished for him, not upset in the slightest. “The word you’re looking for to describe my cousin is jerk. Although I prefer intense. But I assure you his heart is in the right place.” Just like Mitch’s. “Shane has always been in competition with the world, but especially with our oldest cousin, Holden.” Holden was a Wall Street financial guru who’d always considered himself better than others. “There was this one time I thought Shane had Holden beat.” She warmed to her story, tension easing as she recalled the bittersweet memory. “It was Christmas, and we were all trying to find the perfect gift for Grandmother Estelle, because she had cancer.”
“She was wife number four?”
“Yes.” How did Mitch know that?
“And what happened this fateful Christmas?” Head tilted back against the cushions, eyes half-closed, he took a break from staring at her to study the fire.
For the moment Laurel could breathe easier.
“My brother Jonah started it all by writing a play we performed on Christmas Eve.” His was the most heartfelt gift and hadn’t involved a parental credit card. “Meanwhile, Cousin Holden hired a Victorian choir to sing. Cousin Bentley got wind of the choir and hired a Santa Claus and a horse-pulled sleigh. And Shane, not to be outdone, hired an organ grinder with a live monkey.”
“Clever,” Mitch said flatly.
“Yes, because Grandma Estelle used to call us her barrel of monkeys, and Grandpa Harlan used to say we were his favorite circus act.” There was something wrong with Mitch’s reaction to her story. Was she reading him right? Or was she getting a concussion? “Grandma Estelle was thrilled with everyone’s gift, but the monkey was clearly her favorite. She laughed and laughed. And then her poodle chased the monkey up the Christmas tree, which toppled into the fireplace and nearly burned the house down.”
“And Harlan was upset.” Not a question.
“Fuming.” Laurel nodded, wondering what bothered her about Mitch’s responses to her story. “He told us we’d ruined his Christmas. He disappeared for hours.” Laurel had imagined he’d gone to his country club to have a drink with his buddies and complain about his spoiled, unruly grandchildren. “Meanwhile, everyone was pointing fingers at everyone else. It took a while for tempers to ease.” And Laurel hadn’t been the only one trying to smooth ruffled feathers. “In the end, we all apologized, and Christmas went on, but Holden doesn’t let Shane live it down.”
“And of course, you always tried to keep the peace between the two.”
She nodded.
“But that was the last time you saw your grandmother.” Mitch spoke with such certainty.
It gave Laurel pause. In fact, all his comments had the feel of affirmation, not reaction. “You’ve heard this story before. From my grandfather.” She pushed herself up higher against the cushions. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mitch rolled a shoulder in a half shrug. “You know why.”
The confidentiality agreement.
Laurel wanted to find his copy and rip it to shreds. “But I was telling you a story you knew, and you didn’t say anything.” She gathered her knees in the circle of her arms. “What else have I told you that you’ve heard before?”
“Laurel.” He reached across the cushions and found her foot beneath the quilt. “You know there are things I can’t tell you.”
“Secrets about my grandfather’s past? Or confirmation that you know mine?” Intellectually, she recognized he’d given his word and sworn an oath. Emotionally, it pressed on her chest and held her to the couch cushions. Why? Because she wanted to love this man and to do so she needed no secrets between them. There were too many secrets in her life already.
“You and I, we value the truth and a promise.” He followed the sweep of her ankle to her knee. “We develop relationships based on trust and reliability. And I...” His hand fell away. “I can’t always give you the truth right now, the whole truth and nothing but... And that’s no way to begin a relationship.”
He’d held her hand while they watched her babies on a sonogram screen. He’d talked her through a panic attack. He’d kissed her on a crisp, snowy slope. He’d as much as promised he’d have her back.
And now he wanted to draw a line? Set up boundaries?
“The relationship boat has sailed,” she said. His voice had been imprinted on her brain. His touch on her soul. His heart... “We began something with you knowing this... And your prejudice against my family... And your abhorrence of my clothes... And...”
He kissed me anyway.
And she’d let him, although she knew when he found out the truth about her past pretending and scheming he’d no longer look at her the way he was now. It wasn’t just a stupid piece of paper standing between them anymore. It was her lying, and the truth was just waiting to tumble out and for her to be judged and found wanting.
“We can be friends.” His voice enticed with a compromise. One that couldn’t last once the truth was out.
She couldn’t sit with him any longer. Laurel got to her feet, edging past his sleeping daughter to stand out of reach. “I may be reluctant to hold my ground when others’ feelings and well-beings are at stake, but at least I’m honest with myself about who I am and how I feel.” Her words felt hollow. All too often she’d pretended to be someone else, stuffing her feelings deep inside.
Laurel rushed toward the stairs, pausing on the bottom step. “And do you know what the irony is? I’ve been marveling that you see me. Me. Not Ashley. But when we first met, you were just like the rest of the world. You judged me by how I looked, by the facade, the once-wealthy Monroe who wears leggings in the mountains instead of snow pants. Did it ever occur to you that I can’t fit in pants that don’t have elastic waistbands?” That she was sensitive about her expanding waistline and her body? Even if she knew she shouldn’t be?
He said nothing, but he looked shocked.
“I’m having twins. I’m going to be as big as a whale in a few months. Allow me the right to pick and choose what I wear.” To follow her instincts and her heart. To work hard to make amends when the details of her pregnancy became worldwide news. She left him, hurrying up the stairs in case Mitch decided to stop her.
He didn’t.
Laurel’s feet felt heavy. He wasn’t coming after her.
Laurel’s heart felt heavy. He wasn’t falling in love with her. He didn’t think he should while Grandpa Harlan’s nondisclosure agreement was in place.
She made it to her room and collapsed on her bed, falling asleep on a damp pillow, waking only when someone opened the door to her room. “If you value your life, Mitch, you’ll go away.” She pulled the quilt over her head.
“Harsh words for a woman who claims to have patience.” Odette stomped across the room toward the bed, legs rustling—no doubt—because she wore sensible snow pants. “Did you make this? I found it downstairs.”
Laurel rolled over and sat up. Odette was holding the copper scarf Laurel had been working on yesterday.
She must have left it in the common room. “Yes, that’s mine and it’s beautiful.” Yes, that was mutiny in Laurel’s voice. The combination of disappointment in Mitch and lack of sleep made her cranky. “I took some silver thread I had and wrapped it around the yarn. Go ahead. Tell me I suck.”
Odette stared at her hard enough to drill holes. “So certain.”
“Yes, I’ve enjoyed learning a new skill, but I’m ready to move on.” From knitting and Mitch. And speaking of moving on, she tossed off the covers and glanced into the bathroom, stopping when she saw what was there.
Or rather what wasn’t there.
“Where’s my dress?” The pink gown wasn’t hanging on the shower curtain rod.
Laurel did a quick survey of the main room and a surprised, if scowling, Odette. And then she darted back into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain aside to make sure the dress hadn’t fallen in the bathtub. It hadn’t. “Thank heavens.” But... “Where’s my dress?”
A door opened.
“You mean this one?”
Laurel poked her head out of the bathroom.
Odette took the pink dress from the closet and held it up.
“What’s it doing in the closet?” Anger skittered across her skin. Mitch had secrets he couldn’t share. He didn’t want to start a relationship with untold truths between them. And yet he couldn’t honor this one thing. She marched to the closet. “I told him...”
The top shelf had been removed and the clothes rod had been raised to near the ceiling, so the pink evening gown’s hem wouldn’t touch the floor.
Oh, Mitch.
Her heart tried to reattach the halves she hadn’t realized were cracked apart.
After her fall, she’d showered and then spent several hours downstairs under the watchful eyes of everyone, reclining on the sofa. Mitch must have taken the opportunity to move the rod.
And of course, he didn’t tell me.
“Is this your work?” Odette spread the delicate skirt, studying the rhinestones.
“It is.”
The old woman raised sharp gray eyes to Laurel’s face. “What on earth do you need me for?”
Laurel looked from the sunflower quilt on the bed, to the coppery knitting, to the dress. “You have an eye for color and composition.”
“So do you.”
Odette stretched to hang the dress in the closet once more. “This should be in a garment bag.”
“I can’t...” Laurel’s throat threatened to close. “I can’t close it up like that.” As it was, she was having second thoughts about shutting it in the closet.
Odette stared at Laurel’s pajamas. “Did you make those, too?”
“Yes.”
She fingered a cuff of Laurel’s long sleeve and let out a lengthy sigh. “You don’t need me.”
“I do,” Laurel insisted. “At least let me be the judge. Let me watch you work.”
Odette’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll get tired of me. I have a temper.”
“If you haven’t noticed—” Laurel crossed her arms over her chest and stared the older woman down “—I’m patient.”
After a moment Odette laughed and headed for the door. “I’ll see you later this morning.”
She was out the door before Laurel remembered to ask about Flip, the woman who’d accosted her at the mercantile. She hurried out into the hall, but Odette was already gone.