| |
“Have you ever seen anything so pretty?” Hailey asked John when the tree lighting ceremony was over.
He glanced over at Heather’s profile as they walked together back to the apartment to retrieve Hailey’s stuff.
Worry mixed with irritation. Same as me.
“Oh please, that was not Santa or Mrs. Claus,” the snarky tween continued, unaware of what transpired with the awful Courtney Cole. “Not that I still believe in any of that kid stuff. My friend said they were actually our teacher’s parents. Although Mrs. Ellis denied everything when we asked her. Where are you going after I leave, anyway?” Hailey’s brain switched topics faster than a game show host.
“To dinner,” Heather replied in a tense tone.
“I wish I could go. But we’re having pizza, ice cream, and cookies. Plus, there’s cocoa at the snowman building competition.”
“Don’t have too many sweets,” her mother warned. “You won’t sleep.”
“Are you planning to have dessert with my mother?” the curious girl cross-examined John. “She made you a chocolate pudding pie. With real whipped cream. That’s saved for special occasions. How long do you plan to stay out with her tonight?”
John fought the urge to cut and run. He’d known easier drill sergeants.
During the entire ceremony, he’d been questioning his sanity for getting his hopes up about Heather, considering Courtney Cole so blatantly disapproved of them together. He knew how some in town painted him, a bad seed, a drifter. Whereas Heather was the darling widow. A town treasure to be protected. There’d been countless curious stares already tonight. And now Hailey was grilling him.
John opted to play it cool. “Don’t know. Depends how long our dinner lasts.”
“You should try Mom’s pie, it’s really good. It was my dad’s favorite.”
Heather opened the door like an angry jailer about to throw away the key. “Hailey, go upstairs and get your things. And don’t let Mr. Tinsel follow you back down.”
The girl sprinted up the staircase without another word, her boots pounding the steps, accentuating the tension swirling around them.
“We need to talk,” Heather told him.
“Yes, we do.”
***
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they were waiting in a packed lobby for their reservation at Marley’s Olde English Pub. Several patrons had already said hello to Heather and given John the stink eye.
John’s jaw tightened to the point of actual pain. He glanced down at Heather when she jostled against him as a large party shuffled through. “So, you made me a pie?” he said out of the blue.
A sympathetic smile eased the anxious lines on her face. “I did. But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea because of what Hailey said. My husband liked my cheesecake recipe too, but that’s not what’s important.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I wasn’t thinking about David when I decided to bake today. I was thinking only of you. I wanted to do something nice for you. Something special for our first real date.”
His frozen heart thawed a few degrees with the sincerity of her words and the concern for him in her beautiful hazel eyes. “I don’t give a damn if you have money, or you don’t. If you’ve been married, or you’ve never dated anyone in your life,” he swore. “Okay...that would be weird. I mean...look at you. But that woman acted like I targeted you for insurance money.”
Heather smirked. “Wow. Imagine if she knew how you murdered my coffee?”
John stared for a second and then shook his head. He reluctantly smiled. “Yeah, and I forced your kid to feed my smelly sheep.”
They laughed together, so hard others began to stare.
Heather turned serious again. “Do you have any idea how hard this is for me, balancing my past with the hope of a future? Honoring that which was, while longing to see where this could go between us? I told you, I’m a worrier. I worry about Hailey; I worry about you. I never want you to live with the ghosts of my past.”
“Do you worry about what people in this small-minded town think and say?” he grumbled. “The resident widow, dating the wanderer that just rolled back into town? What if he doesn’t stay?”
Heather pressed against him, and she slid her arms around his waist, despite anyone who might see. Her hands slipped into his jean pockets beneath his long coat, and she squeezed.
John’s eyes widened at the intimacy of her touch.
“But what if he does stay?” she asked in a low tone meant only for his ears. “What if the drifter were to decide to remain in Dickens to get to know the resident widow better? Much better, in fact? What if they both said, ‘screw it’ to what anyone else thinks, and they just let this night happen between them?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” she said in a sure voice. “More than anything.”
John closed his eyes, and he touched his forehead to hers. “I’m going out on a limb here, but I have to say it. I want to take you home, Heather. To be alone with you. I can’t stand being this close and not touching you. I feel...I want...” He swallowed hard.
“I know,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
He tipped his head to one side and paused.
“That’s an order, soldier,” she said, squaring her stubborn jaw.
They hurried from the crowded restaurant together—hand in hand and laughing—sprinting down a busy, snowy Main Street the short distance to the entrance of her building.
Heather’s hands trembled as she attempted to unlock the door.
“Let me,” John said, his hands steady as he fit the key into the lock.
Before he could turn the knob, Heather grabbed his scarf and pulled him down for a long passionate kiss. John left the keys dangling in the lock, as his arms gripped her and held tight. He hauled her straight off the ground and pressed her back to the door as their kiss deepened.
“We’re making another public display of affection,” he teased when they came up for air.
She grinned. “Then I guess we’d better get off the street before these coats come off. Courtney will call the cops.”
With that, he set her down and whipped open the door. They hurried up the staircase, and he opened the door leading to her kitchen.
Heather shrugged out of her winter coat and tossed it to a chair. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in food anymore.”
John groaned and did the same thing with his coat. He took hold of Heather, and in one swift motion, swept her up into his arms, and carried her into the living room. Mr. Tinsel meowed and wound his way around his legs when he set Heather down on the couch. “Not now, buddy. Go do cat things somewhere else.”
“He’s relentless. I’m going to put him down in Hailey’s bedroom.”
“Okay, but hurry.”
Heather gave him a sexy grin. “Why don’t you open the bottle of champagne I bought to go with the pie.”
“Champagne. Roger that,” he said as they went their separate ways.
***
HEATHER SET THE NOISY cat on the bed and gave him a few treats from the canister on Hailey’s nightstand. She turned to leave but caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror. Tousled hair, lips red from kissing. She touched them in disbelief.
Over five years since I’ve been intimate with a man.
A powerful case of nerves rattled her.
John was physically nothing like David, yet she was wildly attracted to him. Could they really make this thing work? Her heart admitted she longed to try, despite all the roadblocks to their evening thus far.
True, they weren’t carefree young people anymore. Relationships, in their mid-thirties age-range, meant extra work. There was water under every bridge and more baggage than at Logan Airport. Success required patience and understanding, and—
She stopped, knowing John proved himself patient and understanding, more so than her. Somehow, she knew she was in good hands tonight with her gentle giant of a man.
Heather smoothed her hair and clothes, attempting to look calm as she made her way back to the living room. Yet inside, her butterflies were having a dance party.
John was waiting on the couch, holding two glasses. He fidgeted, looking uncharacteristically anxious. “I poured. I remembered where you kept the glasses. And I turned on the tree. Hope you don’t mind.”
She sat beside him and accepted the glass he offered. “Of course, I don’t mind. I love this tree. It brought us together. The other night I just sat here, alone in the dark, marveling at its beauty.” She reached over and snapped off the side lamp. Colored lights bathed the room in a romantic glow.
“You don’t need to sit here in the dark alone tonight,” he pointed out the obvious. “I’m glad you asked me back.” He shook his dark head and chuckled. “I thought this night was done. No survivors after storm Courtney blew through.”
They sipped their champagne, both staring straight forward at the tree.
“John,” Heather began, “I’m super nervous right now.”
He reached out and tenderly cupped her cheek. “Me too.”
“Who’s in charge of this mission?” she asked before taking another swig of champagne.
John took the glass from her and set it aside. He kissed her palm and then nipped her knuckle. She gasped, and he murmured, “Happy to serve, ma’am.”
***
SOFT MORNING LIGHT filtered in through Heather’s window shades, and she sighed, feeling blissful, warm, and content. Oh so content. She’d had the most amazing night, making love multiple times with John. She recalled some of their intimate moments. His large hands, cupping her bare breasts. His mouth on her most sensitive skin.
Her body responded instantly to the sensual memories. Heat, flooding places that were sore but in all the most delightful ways.
A rooster crowed, and John stirred beside her, grumbling, “Who the hell keeps chickens in downtown Dickens?”
Heather sniggered and snuggled closer to him. A heavy arm wound around her waist. Her fingertips traced the intricate designs on his skin. Totally over any aversion to his tattoos, she now considered them undeniably sexy on John’s muscular body.
She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his weight settling over her. He was agile and beyond strong. Yet oh so gentle when he wanted to be.
They’d even eaten her pie in bed with the last of the champagne. Plus, the left-over whipped cream.
A shiver of delight raced through her at the memory of what they’d done with that sweet delight.
John tipped her chin, his gaze locking with hers. “You are gorgeous in the morning.”
“Yeah, right.” She scoffed and attempted to smooth her snarled hair.
“I mean it. I’ve never been so happy to wake up and see someone.” He rolled over and pressed her down into the soft bed coverings, all tangled and askew.
Heather moaned and squirmed beneath him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
The rooster crowed again, and his dark head shot up. “What time is it?”
“I don’ know,” she slurred, feeling love drunk from his touch.
He rolled off her, rising to stand nude, like a glorious Greek god. He checked his phone. “Damn, it’s almost six. We slept in. I’ve gotta get to work.”
Heather struggled to a sitting position, and she winced.
A wicked grin flashed across his face. “Sore?”
“You know I am. We barely slept. And since when is six ‘sleeping in?’”
“I live on a farm, remember? Besides, who needs sleep after last night?” He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head before searching the room for his clothes. “Remind me of that later when I’m cutting and lugging trees until three.”
“I’m going to miss you,” she admitted, surprised by how true the statement was.
John stopped what he was doing to just look at her. “Come and see me later. We could do Sunday dinner. I know Pops wouldn’t mind. He told me how much he enjoys having you and Hailey visit.”
“I’m so glad. Glad for this. Glad for you, reconciling with your father.”
“Me too,” he murmured, his features softening, his grey eyes warming as they looked only at her.
“Go,” she waved him away. “I’ll call you later when Hailey gets home.”
“You’d better,” he warned with a heart-stopping smile. “You’ve got my hopes up that I’ll get to see you again today.”