Holiday in Your Heart (23 page)

“I guess,” she said doubtfully. “Well, enjoy the food. Hope you come back again.”

“Thanks.”

Outside, Caruso sniffed the bags and did a head toss.

“It's human food,” Mo told him. “But I bet Maribeth has some dog food in her pantry. Come on, let's hurry so this stuff doesn't get cold.”

When they arrived at Maribeth's welcoming house, Caruso came to the front door with Mo rather than beating a retreat around back. Maribeth, in a turquoise sweater and stretchy black pants, gave Mo a warm hug and Caruso a scratch behind the ears.

“I set the coffee table in the living room,” she said, ushering them in. “Just bring the bags in there and we'll dish out the food. Oh, how much do I owe you?”

“I've got it,” he said as he followed her.

“No, really, Mo, it was my idea.”

“Maribeth, I'm not hard up, okay?” He put the bags on the table. “Hank's paying me decent money. Besides, I have a fair bit saved up from my previous jobs.”

“If you're sure.” She turned toward the door to the hall. “Come on, Caruso. There's food for you in the kitchen. Mo, what would you like to drink?”

“I'll have a glass of that orange drink, if you've got it.”

“Coming up.”

After she disappeared down the hall, he set the covered containers on the round cork pads she'd laid on the table, checked the fire, and then sat down on the couch.

When she came back with his drink and a mug of tea, she said, “You want to watch a movie?”

“I'd like that. I don't feel much like talking.”

“I wonder if we can agree on something.” She sat beside him, picked up the remote, and navigated to the movie menu. “Oh, how about this? It's ages since I've seen
Raiders of the Lost Ark
.”

“Indiana Jones? Yeah, I could go for that.” He leaned forward and began removing the tops from the containers. Delicious aromas mingled in the air.

As the movie titles began to play, he and Maribeth dished out food, and then he covered the containers again and sat back to eat.

This was good. Instead of roaming the chilly countryside or sitting in his small apartment alone with Caruso, he had tasty food, an engaging movie, and a lovely woman at his side. A woman who, amazingly, knew when to let a guy alone to nurse his wounds.

The way she treated him made him feel as if he were special. When he'd come to Caribou Crossing, he'd figured that the best he could be in life was a man who trod lightly and didn't cause harm. Now he found himself wondering if he could be more than that, and if he and Maribeth might . . . Might what?

This was the woman who'd been dating for more than twenty-five years. The woman who loved variety in all things. If she had a knack for making a man feel special, it was because she had lots of experience. He had to remember that she'd one day tire of him, just as she had of all the men who'd come before.

What he needed to do was enjoy the moment, not worry about the future.

* * *

On Sunday, Maribeth woke alone and found that her period had started. She felt a little crampy, not to mention depressed, because only a couple of weeks ago she'd optimistically thought that she might be pregnant by now. Still, she reminded herself that she'd postponed insemination for a good reason. If things worked out with her and Mo, she'd have a real father for her child.

In better spirits, she did a long yoga session, which eased the cramps. After a leisurely breakfast and a lengthy Skype call with her grandparents, she prepared food for that night as well as some to stock up her freezer for the week to come. It was a familiar and satisfying Sunday routine, and yet today she found herself missing Mo. He hadn't come over the previous night because Hank Hennessey and his wife had invited him to dine with them.

She hadn't seen Mo since Thursday when he'd asked her over to his place for dinner. She'd expected takeout or something from a can, but he'd surprised her with an excellent home-made chili accompanied by a tossed salad. Dessert had been apple crisp, which he admitted his landladies had supplied in exchange for a portion of his chili. She was happy to see how well he was getting along with the retired schoolteachers, and that he was in better spirits than on Tuesday night—even though he hadn't heard anything further from Evan.

Maribeth had spent the night at his place. It was cozy in the studio apartment with Mo and Caruso, but she did feel a little odd about having sex in the same house as her fourth-grade teacher. When Mo pointed out that her teacher might well also be having sex, it hadn't helped one bit.

Smiling at the memory, she changed into her outdoor clothes: heavy pants, thick sweater, and socks. She was on her way downstairs when she heard noises on her front porch. Mo said something she couldn't make out, and just when she was expecting her doorbell to ring, she instead heard Caruso's warble.

Laughing, she hurried down the remaining stairs and flung open the door. “Hi, guys.”

It had started to snow, not heavily but with soft, light flakes. Mo's black hair and the shoulders of his jacket were dusted with white, his cheeks were almost as rosy as his red scarf, and he was smiling. Her heart flooded with warmth. It was amazing how just seeing him could make her so happy.

She bent to greet his companion, whose thick cinnamon coat was also decorated with snowflakes. “Caruso, you sound much nicer than my doorbell.” She stroked his damp head and was pleased when he wagged his tail.

Then she unbuttoned Mo's jacket, slipped her arms inside, and hugged him. “It's good to see you.” Should she tell him how much she'd missed him? No, it might make him feel like she was getting possessive. And she wasn't; she wasn't the clingy sort. She had her own life, her friends, lots of activities that kept her busy. It was just that if a day went by without seeing Mo, life seemed a little flat.

“Good to see you, too.” His arms were warm and firm around her, and when she tipped her head up to his, he gave her a long, thorough kiss. Then he pushed her away. “Better stop now, if you want to get those lights up.”

With some regret, she said, “Yes, I really do. It's the third of December, so it's officially Christmas month.”

“By Maribeth's rules,” he teased.

“Which are the only rules that count at this house.” She put on her jacket, red knitted hat, and gloves and led the way to the garage. As she and Mo pulled out the boxes containing the outdoor Christmas lights, she said, “How was dinner with Hank and Inga?”

“Nice. Inga is what Hank's like beneath the gruffness. Know what I mean?”

“You mean that Hank's really a softy underneath that macho façade. And Inga's just a softy, through and through.”

“That's it. Want to carry a box and I'll bring the ladder?”

Lugging supplies, they went to the front of the house and he set up the ladder while she returned to the garage for the second box. She opened it. “The multicolored lights go along the eaves,” she said, “and the twinkly white ones around the windows.”

“Got it. I'll start with the eaves. You untangle the strings and pass them up to me.”

Once they got a process going, he said, “After we had dinner, Hank and Inga left me in their living room alone for a few minutes. I guess they had a private chat in the kitchen. Anyhow, then they came back and he asked me if I'd be interested in being his partner. And eventually taking over the garage.”

“Wow.” Gazing up at him, she blinked snowflakes from her lashes. That would mean Mo definitely staying in Caribou Crossing. “What did you tell him?”

“That I'd seriously consider it. He said he wouldn't pressure me, but I think he'd like to get things resolved.”

She handed up another loop of colored lights, enjoying the soft kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks. “What does it depend on, for you? How would it work out financially?”

“The financing isn't a problem. He's priced comparable businesses and says his is worth around a hundred thousand. I've got that much and—”

“You do?”

He glanced down at her and laughed. “Thought all I owned was the pack on my back? No, for the last ten or so years I've saved more than I've spent. And done okay with investments.”

She'd never thought of footloose Mo as being an investor. The man was full of surprises. “Okay, then I won't feel bad when you buy me dinner.”

“Anyhow, Hank says what he'd like to do is have me buy just less than fifty percent, so he's the senior partner for the next year. Over time, I'd increase my share, and when he's eventually ready, I'd buy him out. But he gets to keep working part-time for as long as he wants.”

“Sounds like a good deal. What do you think?”

“Yeah, it's a real good deal. But if things never work out with Evan, it could be awkward, me being in the same town as him.”

She nodded, understanding but not happy about the uncertainty. Couldn't things just come together for all of them? Why did this have to be so complicated? “I hope tonight's dinner is another step in the right direction.”

“Had to bring that up, did you? Here I was relaxing and enjoying the afternoon.”

“It'll be fine.” Surreptitiously, she crossed her gloved fingers. She and Brooke had been talking and thought it would be a good idea to have a social evening that included Brooke's husband, Jake. The women had persuaded the men.

Maribeth liked Jake a lot, especially when she saw how much he loved Brooke and how he doted on their baby, Nicki. But she had to admit, the police chief, a former undercover cop, could be one awe-inspiring guy. She didn't figure Mo would be intimidated, but she was a little afraid that the guys might face off rather than get along.

“Hey, if you keep daydreaming,” Mo said, “we'll never get these lights hung.”

“Right. Sorry.” She unwound more of the string and fed it up to him.

Across the street, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner came out, waved, and began to set up their holiday display of reindeer pulling a sleigh with Santa inside. They had a radio on their porch, and snatches of George Strait singing “Jingle Bell Rock” drifted in the snowy air.

“Lucky for them it's December,” Mo said, gazing across the street from high up on the ladder, “or they'd be in serious trouble with you.” Then he called, “Hey, Caruso! Damn it, Maribeth, can you get him?”

The dog, who'd been happily exploring Maribeth's yard and playing in the snow, had made his way across the street to sniff at the plastic reindeer. Maribeth ran over, clumsy in her boots. “Caruso, leave those alone!”

The dog turned his face up to her in a “what did I do wrong?” expression.

Mrs. Gardiner said, “Oh, isn't he the prettiest boy? I didn't know you had a dog, Maribeth.”

“He belongs to my friend, Mo. He's a New Guinea singing dog and a bit of a free spirit.”

“Well, as long as he does no harm,” she said comfortably. “I never did take with having to put dogs and kids on leashes. Seems to me it's better to just teach them proper behavior.”

“I totally agree.”

The women watched as Mr. Gardiner arranged the reindeer and Caruso inspected all of them. “Do
not
lift your leg,” Maribeth warned the dog and, surprisingly, he didn't. When he'd sniffed to his heart's content, he came to sit at her side, where he lifted his head and sang.

“What in hell?” Mr. Gardiner said, and then he laughed. “If that don't beat all. There you go, Annie, that's the coyote you keep saying you've heard.”

Maribeth tapped her leg, saying, “Come on, Caruso, or Mo will never get those lights finished.”

They returned to her yard, and she kept an eye on the dog while she and Mo finished stringing lights.

When they were done, she flicked the switch. She and Mo walked out to the sidewalk and gazed at the house, admiring their handiwork. “The snow makes everything prettier,” she said. “More holiday-like.”

“If you say so,” he said tolerantly.

She poked him in the ribs. “Grinch. Come on in. I need to get changed.”

Inside, Mo said he'd get the fire going. She made sure the slow cooker was humming away and then hurried upstairs. She took an ibuprofen to ease the slight achiness from her period and then donned semi-dressy jeans and, in keeping with the Christmas lights, a red cashmere sweater and dangly earrings with multicolored stones.

When she came down again, she found Mo in the sitting room with a bottle of San Pellegrino. He had taken off his sweater. Underneath it he wore a nice shirt which, with jeans, looked just right for a casual Sunday night dinner.

“You look pretty,” he said, tugging her down beside him on the couch.

She took the bottle from him, had a long swallow, and then he removed the bottle from her hand and put it on the coffee table. He gave her a leisurely kiss and she made small sounds of pleasure as she kissed him back.

She forced herself to pull away before things got too heated. “To be continued,” she promised. “They'll be here any minute.” She'd barely finished speaking when headlights flashed through the window as a car turned into the driveway.

When she rose, Mo did, too, grumbling, “Life used to be so much easier.”

She clasped his hand and held on to it as she opened the door to see Brooke climbing out of the passenger seat of her Toyota and Jake extracting Nicki from the child seat in the back.

“They brought their kid?” Mo said in a low voice, sounding a little horrified.

“They're parents with a young one. Of course they did.” She'd never thought to mention it to him because she'd taken Nicki's presence for granted. “Is that a problem?”