Lauren had never felt anything that could remotely compare to kissing Fisk.
His lips on hers were warm, his touch gentle and restrained. Beneath the restraint, she felt his passion. He was a man of high emotions. He’d proven it tonight.
Maybe he was just seeking relief from all the feelings. Maybe that was why he’d kissed her.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Feel better?” she asked, letting a smile cross her face.
He smiled back at her. “I feel great. Except I don’t want to stop. You’re incredible.” He lowered his lips to hers again and kissed her more deeply.
Electricity crackled through her body. No longer was she aware of the cold air around them, the pine trees rustling in the wind, the icy scent of snow. She was only aware of him, this wonderful, creative, hurting man who for whatever reason, seemed to want to be close to her.
He made a little sound in his throat, a kind of growl, and she recognized it for what it was: passion, not pain.
A warning bell seemed to ring, very quietly, but persistently. There was a reason she needed to keep some distance from Fisk. There was a reason to be wary of the intense desire to wrap her arms around him more tightly, to get closer, as close as she could.
She let her fingers fork through his hair and inhaled the clean, woodsy scent of him. She felt the acceleration in his breathing, the beating of his heart. She wanted to turn off her brain. To feel, to be swept off her feet.
She wanted that, but she was an adult. She had self-control.
She forced herself to pull away.
He didn’t seem to want to let go.
“Fisk,” she whispered. Why was she whispering? “Fisk, we’d better get back.”
He tilted his head to one side and studied her, his eyes aflame with such intensity that she pulled away. That seemed to bring him back to an awareness of their surroundings and their situation. “We do have responsibilities, don’t we?”
She nodded. “I hate to say it, but yes.”
He stood and drew her to her feet, and then hugged her gently, kissed her on the forehead, and let her go.
Without talking, they walked hand in hand to Fisk’s truck. He put some kind of classical music on. “Sit closer,” he invited, and she scooted to the middle seat.
His strong body warmed her as they drove over the mountain roads and back through Holiday Point. They passed the spot where they’d met, and she remembered how he’d sunk down into the snow when he’d heard Bonita cry.
Now, she understood. And she felt for him, deeply.
Was there any chance this connection between them could grow?
Her skeptical side doubted it, but oh, she wanted to believe that something could come of it, that somehow, love could flourish between them.
The next morning, Fisk stood outside his house, throwing a ball for Nemo and watching the dog frolic in the new snow.
Lauren was already in the shop. He’d seen her coming and, like a coward, had waited to take Nemo outside until she had time to settle in the building.
The sky was blue, the air still and cold, the snow sparkling. A beautiful winter day.
Fisk felt horrible.
Just do it, he told himself.
He’d tossed and turned all night, his mind full of Lauren’s beauty and her kiss, on the one hand, and then of the day he’d lost Scarlett and Di.
In the wee hours, he’d come to a decision.
No matter how sweet and lovely Lauren was—in fact, because of how sweet and lovely she was—he had to push her away. That would be easy: he just had to tell her the truth, the whole truth, about his past.
Nemo trotted up, tongue hanging out, legs matted with icy balls of snow, and he realized he’d been standing here too long without a coat. Rather than going inside his house to grab one, he marched toward the shop.
He had to do this before he gave in to his weaker wants and needs.
As soon as he walked in, his eyes found her. And oh, no. She was smiling at him, a warm, we-have-a-secret smile.
He wanted more than anything to walk over to the office area and kiss her, to hold her in his arms, to lose his doubts in the softness and sweetness of her. Moreover, the way she was looking at him, she’d welcome his embrace.
No.
Instead of heading over to her desk right away as he usually did, to joke around and grab coffee and talk about the day’s priorities, he went right to his workspace. He had to pull himself together before he did what he had to do.
Grabbing any old project—an antique washboard someone wanted him to refinish—he sat down and tried to do mindless hand sanding.
Nemo nudged at him. Maybe telling him he was off his routine. Maybe sensing his internal turmoil. “Lie down,” he ordered.
Nemo complied, head on paws, eyes fixed on Fisk.
He kept sanding, but from the corner of his eye he could see her. That green sweater fit her well and, he was sure, set off her eyes.
Her gorgeous eyes were the last thing he should be thinking about. He should be planning out his speech. But he kept hearing her hum along with the Christmas playlist. Kept remembering the light perfume she’d worn last night, how it had tickled his nose when he’d kissed her neck.
Kissing her had been one of the best experiences of his life. He remembered every sound she’d made, how her hair had felt, all soft, how her lips had tasted.
“Hey.”
He looked up and she was standing there, and yes, her sweater did bring out the beauty of her eyes. He wasn’t a painter, but he’d sure give a try to painting her.
“Um, here’s a list of projects for you to work on today. We need to move along Gramps’s project and finish the bench for Mrs. Sanford. If you can get started on the coffee table for Elton and Bertha Johnson, all the better.”
He opened his mouth and no response came out. He snapped it shut.
The phone buzzed behind her and she handed him the list of projects and went back over to her desk. He heard her answering someone’s question about a woodworking class—“That’s a great idea, I’ll talk to Fisk about gift certificates!”—and reassuring someone else that their cabinet would be complete by the beginning of next week.
He needed to stop paying attention to Lauren and start paying attention to his work. He set the washboard aside and picked up the corner cupboard Lauren’s grandfather had commissioned. He looked it over, feeling for rough spots, sanding a couple of them down. He needed to get a coat of stain on it today. He definitely didn’t want to let Gramps down; the man was a friend and had been a big help to Fisk. Even though he’d understand if his project was late, that didn’t mean Fisk wanted to slack off.
He needed to rebuild his reputation in this town, or rather, to build a good reputation. It started with people close to him.
He started to open the can of wood stain and then the sound of Lauren’s voice, talking to yet another person on the phone, sent him back to dreaming about last night. She’d been so warm toward him. The surprise of that had filled him with joy.
Nemo barked, and Fisk realized he’d gone still.
No way was he going to get any work done until he’d had his talk with her. He ran a hand down Nemo’s back for courage and walked over, the dog trotting alongside him.
“When you can get a break,” he said, “we need to talk.”
“Okay,” she said, her expression wary. She turned down the ringer on her phone. “What’s up?”
He pulled a stool over and sat down, her desk a barrier between them.
She was studying him with compassion and warmth, and he tried to memorize that expression. This was the last time she’d look at him fondly. The last time she’d think of him as a potential partner.
Talk.
“I didn’t tell you the whole story last night,” he began.
There was a pounding on the shop door, and then it opened. Gramps Tucker and Bonita came in.
Relief. He didn’t have to spoil everything with Lauren, not quite yet. He walked over to greet the older man, taking the baby from his arms.
Lauren came over, too, and started unzipping Bonita’s snowsuit, her closeness making Fisk sweat. “Do you need me to take her for the rest of the day?” she asked her grandfather.
“No, this is just a quick visit.” Gramps unzipped his jacket, but left it on. “I just wanted to check on that corner cupboard.”
“Come on over,” Fisk said. He handed the baby to Lauren and guided Gramps over to where he’d been about to get to work on staining the cupboard.
“Oh, that’s nice. Beautiful. You’ll have it done by the weekend?”
“Absolutely.”
Gramps studied him. “You doing okay?”
“Sure,” he said.
Gramps looked over at Lauren. “You’re both skittish this morning,” he said.
Fisk looked at Lauren, and their eyes locked. Her face went pink.
“We’re just real busy,” Fisk said, “trying to knock out the last of the Christmas orders.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Gramps said. He took Bonita from Lauren, waved away her repeated offer to keep the baby here, and trudged out, his shoulders ramrod straight.
“He’s lonely,” Lauren said.
Fisk nodded, thinking that he should do more to help Gramps, keep him company.
After all, he himself would one day be an old man alone. He should try to learn the ropes from Gramps. He’d take Gramps to a hockey game up in Pittsburgh. No need to even dream of using the tickets he had been given to take Lauren to it.
“Well, I guess I’ll get back to work. Unless...you wanted to talk to me?”
Tell her.
He followed her back to her desk and sat back down. “Look,” he said, “I can’t be in a relationship.”
Blunt. Clumsy. But his words would do the job.
She studied his face for a long moment. Then, “Can I ask why?”
He picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser end on the desk, then flipped it and tapped the pointed end. Over and over. Finally, he stopped and met her eyes. “Like I said, I left some things out when I told you about, about Scarlett, last night.”
She nodded. “Okay. What did you leave out?”
He sucked in a breath and launched into the story. How he’d confronted Di’s group of friends and told them that neither he nor Di would be hanging out with them anymore, and that Di wouldn’t be buying any more recreational drugs from them, nor selling them.
“Did you know she was using and selling drugs?” Lauren asked.
“Using, yes, I figured that out pretty quickly,” he said. “Selling, I only learned about when some lowlifes came to her apartment when I was there. Scarlett was there too, of course. I blew up and sent them packing and laid into her, made her tell me her source and how long she’d been selling. It wasn’t that long, so I figured it would be easy to get her out of it. Crucial, too, because I didn’t want Scarlett around those people.”
“How did she react?”
He shrugged. “She was mad. Of course. She’d been caught, and she wasn’t going to get to keep making money doing what she wanted to do.” He looked at his hands. “As it turned out, she didn’t get to do it, or anything else. Never again.”
“You lost her, too?”
He nodded.
“Oh, Fisk. I’m sorry.”
He waved away her sympathy. “I handled it all wrong. I thought I was going to stay in Baltimore and protect her from those guys, when I should have looked for a way to leave town. How hard is that to do? I could have brought them here.”
Lauren swallowed. “It’s a good place to hide.”
That was an odd thing to say. But he didn’t pursue it, because he needed to get out the rest of the terrible story. “I was walking away from Di’s lowlife friends when Di came squealing up. She had Scarlett in the front seat, no car seat.”
Lauren let out an “oh” that sounded like a sigh. “So that’s why you were intent that Bonita use the car seat, even for a short drive,” she said.
“What? Oh. Yeah.” She was talking about the first time they’d met. “Anyway, her so-called friends started shooting. The car crashed into the corner of a building, and I could see...” His throat tightened. “It was bad. I was pretty sure that neither of them survived the crash. I took off after the shooters.”
Lauren’s brow wrinkled and she crossed her arms as if to hold herself together. “How awful.”
“That’s right. It was awful. I was awful. Because...” He looked down at his knees. “I heard the baby crying, but I kept running after those men who’d done it.”
“You...heard your baby crying?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
“And you kept running?”
“I did.”
The lights on the phone flashed, but she ignored them.
He pushed himself to continue talking, to show her what a horrible man he was and why he couldn’t be with her, even though he wanted it with all his heart. “I abandoned them, Lauren. When I’d knocked one of the dealers down and the police came and took over, I ran back, but it was too late. They were both gone.”
He remembered the sound of the sirens, the police on their walkie-talkies, the murmurs and shouts of the crowd. He remembered arriving at the car at the same moment as the EMTs did. Wrenching the doors open together. And then...blood and death and despair.
Nemo jumped his paws up onto Fisk’s leg and he ran his hands over the dog, not looking at Lauren, not wanting to see the disgust and horror that had to be on her face.
“I just have one question for you,” she said.
“I’ll answer anything.” He stole a glance at her and didn’t see the disgust he expected. Instead, her head was tilted to one side, her eyes compassionate.
She didn’t speak for a moment, and then, “Were you drinking?”
He closed his eyes. Of course, that was her question. She had a history with alcoholics.
Although the sympathy he’d seen on her face gave him an absurd boost of hope, he didn’t deserve sympathy. Didn’t deserve her.
Telling her he’d been drinking would push her away, for real and for good.
He thought back to that day, before everything had gone down. He didn’t drink much back then. But, considering it had been a Saturday night, it was likely he’d had a beer.
Yes. He was pretty sure he’d had one earlier that day.
“Fisk?”
He swallowed hard and sealed his fate. “Yes,” he said, “I’d been drinking.”
Lauren stayed the rest of the day, managing Fisk’s business, doing her job. She even communicated with Fisk about a change in Loreli Lenox’s garden bench and a new order for a houseful of cabinets. Communicated pleasantly. But only because she kept reminding herself: It’s a job, he’s the boss, there’s nothing personal here.
That was a hard thing to keep in mind. She’d been stupid and started to care about Fisk, and then she’d learned the uglier details about his past. She didn’t entirely understand what had happened—Fisk had sounded a little fuzzy about it all—but she knew two things: he’d failed to care for his child when she’d needed it, and he’d been drinking. And that, right there, was the problem.
Her own reaction to his revelations raised a red flag. Her fatal attraction to alcoholics had kicked in again, and even now, she kept excusing his behavior to herself. Survivor’s guilt makes people blame themselves for things that weren’t really their fault. Probably, there was nothing he could have done. Men have those adrenaline spurts that made them automatically fight and protect rather than nurture.
But that was just her codependency talking.
Her workday over, Lauren would have liked nothing better than to put on her flannel pajamas and crawl into bed to watch her favorite mindless TV show. But Gramps and Bonita had been in the house all day. Gramps still seemed a little depressed, and Bonita was fussy.
Lauren needed to make an effort. So they went to town and were soon walking into the park, where the annual Christmas Tree Display was going on.
The wonderland of brightly lit trees made Bonita’s eyes widen. She shouted and pointed from one colorful tree to another. Gramps’s weathered face creased in a smile as he looked around at the lights, and soon he was introducing Lauren and Bonita to friends and acquaintances.
Bonita went into full-on charm mode, smiling at everyone. Her green plaid Christmas headband topped with a red poinsettia looked adorable on her, giving Lauren a big burst of mama-pride. They strolled down the walkway lined with heavily decorated trees, headed toward the point where the rivers came together and where the music and bonfires were centered.
“Let’s get something at the food trucks and take our dinners to eat by the fire,” Lauren suggested, so they got into line for a truck featuring hot sandwiches. Pulled pork dinners in hand, they headed toward the bonfire.
Vendor stands of wreaths and yard decorations had attracted a crowd, and they wove through slowly, admiring the colorful wares. Soon a voice called out to them: Tonya, here by herself, nursing a hot chocolate as she strolled along. “Join us,” Lauren suggested, and introduced her grandfather. Tonya looked happy to be included, and they settled by the fire.
Gramps and Tonya knew people in common, and they went to the same church, so they chatted happily while Lauren got out food for Bonita: crackers and cheese cubes and thin slices of apple.
Focusing on Bonita’s meal gave Lauren the chance to think, and of course, her thoughts turned to Fisk.
When they’d kissed, she’d felt an amazing connection with him, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She’d gotten the absurd hope that something might work between them.
You thought that because you’re codependent. He’s an alcoholic.
His acknowledgement that he’d been drinking when his child and girlfriend were killed had extinguished any hope that Fisk and Lauren could be together.
She wanted a safe haven for Bonita, she thought, brushing back the child’s hair and adjusting her hat. But that meant she had to dump Fisk. No two ways about it. He wasn’t safe. He’d allowed his own baby to die.
The very idea of that clashed with her impression of Fisk. The first time she’d met him, on the snowy road near Gramps’s place, he’d come to her assistance. Yes, he’d had a meltdown, but it was because he’d heard Bonita crying and thought that Lauren looked like his late girlfriend. He was definitely a man who cared.
And yet, caring wasn’t enough. You had to have the behaviors to back it up, and apparently, Fisk didn’t. Carelessness, mistakes and damage, sometimes severe damage, were typical of a drinker. She’d experienced similar—though not anything as bad as what had happened to Fisk’s family—with both her husband and her father. The alcoholic’s need for a drink superseded any love they had for friends and family.
What Fisk had done, making the wrong decision, ignoring his baby’s cries, was typical of an alcoholic. Not that they always meant harm, but they certainly caused it.
I want love, a sad voice inside her said, making her clench her fists like a child in tantrum mode. She wanted love, and she wanted love with Fisk. She genuinely liked him and enjoyed spending time with him, talking with him.
As for finding him attractive? That had been the case from the beginning.
But she couldn’t let her thoughts go in that direction. She needed to concentrate on what she had, the family she had, Gramps and Bonita. She pulled herself out of her own spiraling thoughts and refocused her attention on them. She pulled out a board book for Bonita, who cuddled in Lauren’s lap in her warm coat, paging through it.
Tonya seemed happy to get to know them all better and was especially intrigued by their family. Which made sense, given what she’d heard about Tonya’s neglected upbringing.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, sitting on the blanket they’d brought and placed near one of the bonfires. “You seem so close,” she said to Gramps and Lauren. “Have you always been?”
Lauren glanced at Gramps, then reached over and squeezed his calloused hand. “I’ve been close with him since I was a little kid. He’s always been there for me.”
“Nothing made me happier,” he said, smiling at her. “And now that we have this little beauty, it’s even better.” He rubbed Bonita’s back.
Bonita looked up at him, grabbed his weathered hand and tugged it to her mouth. She started gnawing on his finger.
“Bonita! No chewing Gramps.” Lauren dug around in her bag and found a teething toy shaped like a strawberry. She handed it to Bonita.
“This one can chew on my fingers any time she wants,” said Gramps. He clicked his tongue at Bonita, making her laugh.
The sight warmed Lauren’s heart. The close relationship developing between Bonita and Gramps made moving to Holiday Point feel like a great decision.
“What about the generation in between the two of you?” Tonya asked, looking from Lauren to Gramps. “Is your dad, or your mom, close to the family as well?”
Again, Lauren glanced at Gramps. “I’m his daughter’s child. And my mom was sort of close to Gramps, I guess. Wasn’t she? At one time?”
“We were close until she started scrapping with her mother. That was when she was a teenager and making not the best choices in boys she dated. Of course, I sided with my wife, but that seemed to push Lauren’s mother into some very inappropriate men’s arms.”
“Including my dad’s,” Lauren said ruefully.
“You don’t get along with your dad? Is he living?” Tonya seemed somehow hungry for the answers.
Lauren didn’t want to dive into the details of her father’s decline and death. “My dad passed away three years ago,” she said, keeping it simple.
“And her mom bounced right into another man’s arms,” Gramps said. “This one painted himself as some kind of European royalty, which I made the mistake of expressing doubt about. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“Oh, that’s so sad,” Tonya said. “Do you speak with your mom?” she asked Lauren.
“I speak to her when I get the chance,” she said. “Mom is living overseas with her new husband, and there’s just not much opportunity for us to talk.”
“Gosh, that stinks,” Tonya said. “I always feel sorry for myself because my parents were...how do I say it...not the most devoted. I envy families who are close, but I guess looks can be deceiving.”
“I feel fortunate to be close with Gramps.” Lauren leaned over and gave Gramps a sideways hug. “Tell us about your family, Tonya.”
Tonya waved a hand. “Another time. I’ve had a nice evening with you all, and I don’t want to ruin it.” She gave a little smile, and Lauren resolved to ask her about her family another time. From what Tonya and Fisk had discussed earlier, things hadn’t been good, and Tonya just might need to talk about it. And she didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends.
Their time together had successfully distracted Lauren from her feelings about Fisk, but they came rushing back when Tonya said, “Oh, wow,” and gestured toward a couple of men, clinging onto each other and staggering. People were veering away from them, picking up their curious kids.
Lauren squinted. Was that Fisk?
It was. Fisk and another man, older. It looked like his father.
Gramps got to his feet. “I’ll go see if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said.
“No need,” Tonya said. “There’s his brother.”
“Alec will help them.” Lauren turned away. She didn’t want to watch this go down. She’d hoped, after he’d turned down the drink at his parents’ house, that he would rededicate himself to his sobriety. Apparently, that hadn’t happened.
More evidence that she needed to stay far, far away from him.
Lauren lifted Bonita, now yawning and rubbing her eyes, and held her against her shoulder, rocking her gently. It was as much for her own comfort as for Bonita’s.
She couldn’t believe Fisk had gone straight back into drinking after telling her about his past mistakes. What would happen next? Would he descend into a full-on binge? Was she about to have to make a bunch of phone calls to his customers, telling them he couldn’t deliver after all?