Holly Lane (9 page)

“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

A
n 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 shoulders 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.

When the heavy front door burst open, she looked up to see her daughter, as red-nosed as Rudolph himself, peeking inside. “Mom! Mom! Come look!” Sophie appeared so excited that it was infectious—and God, it was good to see her acting so bubbly.

“All right, I’m coming,” Sue Ann said as Sophie waved one mitten-covered hand, hurrying her along. Instead of the shawl this time, she grabbed the old parka she’d worn earlier, completely forgetting she’d thought it seemed too ragged for Adam to see her in.

“Put on your scarf,” Sophie scolded her despite the rush. “You never let
me
go out without a scarf when it’s cold.”

“Okay,
Mom
,” she teased her daughter with a laugh, snatching her brightly striped one from the peg board and tossing it around her neck.

When they stepped outside, it was almost dark—the days were short this time of year—but snow still fell in large, lacy flakes that glittered in the rays from the porch light Sue Ann had just flicked on. Sophie grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the front steps into the snow that now lay a few inches deep, covering the front yard and the quiet street beyond, which harbored the tracks of only a few vehicles.

Adam stood behind the fat mound of snow she was being pulled toward, gloved hands in his front jeans pockets, looking chilled but cheerful and oh-so-handsome. Their eyes met briefly, and Sue Ann cast a smile in his direction without quite planning it—until Sophie finally had her where she wanted her, halting her in place, then turning her around to look. “See?” Sophie said.

And—oh! Only now could she see what a great job Adam had done with the lights—they framed the whole house in colors that glowed through the falling snow. But what Sophie was really showing her was the rather magnificent snow cat she and Adam had created. It sat proudly in the yard, back curving, front legs straight and paws neatly carved, with claws made from chips of tree bark, probably from the woodpile in the backyard. A long, curving tail stretched beside it on the ground, but what made it most distinguishable as a cat were the pointing ears and the face: A triangular piece of bark served as the nose, with wood bits for eyes, and twigs forming a mouth and whiskers. “It’s . . . almost perfect,” Sue Ann said, complimenting and teasing them at the same time.

“Almost?” Adam argued. “Look, we tried to make the tail stand up, but it just wasn’t happening.”

“No, that’s not it,” Sue Ann said, still studying the snow cat. “It just needs . . . a bit of flair.” And with that, she broke her own scarf-wearing rule by whipping the striped one from around her neck and carefully tying it around the snow cat’s, leaving the long ends to cascade down in front. “There,” she added. “
Now
it’s perfect.”

Sophie clapped her hands and jumped up and down in response, then sang out, “Can we take a picture of it?”

Adam immediately whipped out his cell phone. “I got it,” he said, pointing it toward the snow cat. “Hop in there with him, Sophie.”

A few minutes later, everyone had taken turns having pictures made with the cat—who Sophie by then had dubbed Snowy—and Sue Ann said, “I’ve got stuff ready to make hot chocolate inside. You guys must be freezing after being out here so long.”

“Some hot chocolate sounds good,” Adam said, and the three left the snow cat behind and made a trail back through the fresh snowfall to the front door.

Once inside, everyone shed their winter gear and Sue Ann led the way to the kitchen, where she mixed up three mugs of cocoa and milk to heat in the microwave. When it was hot, Sophie did the honors with the whipped cream and they all carried their cups back to the living room, where the bare Christmas tree now stood.

“So are you staying to help trim the tree?” Sophie asked, clearly still just as excited about this as she’d been about everything, it seemed, since Adam’s arrival.

Maybe she just likes having a familiar man around the house again.
Or . . . maybe she just likes having company, period.
The big house had felt hollow and quiet these past months. But whatever the case, Sophie’s smile continued to warm Sue Ann’s soul.

That’s when she heard Adam waffling, though, saying, “Well, I don’t know—it’s getting late and the snow’s really piling up out there,” even as he politely looked to Sue Ann for guidance.

He was right about it getting late; it was time for dinner, in fact. And she had envisioned the tree-trimming as something she and Sophie would do alone, because Sophie needed to adjust to it being just the two of them at home now for such activities.

Yet . . . Adam had always been a part of Sophie’s life.

And Sue Ann couldn’t help remembering that his house was lonely and quiet right now, too.

So she smiled into his sexy blue eyes and said, “Why don’t you stay?”

“I
think this might just be our best tree ever, Soph, don’t you?” Sue Ann said as she stood back to admire the finished product. Silver snowflake garland stretched from one branch to the next in fancy scallops, and homemade ornaments blended in with the old-fashioned antique ones passed down from Sue Ann’s grandma. Twinkling lights of every color glowed from top to bottom, and crowning the tree was a glittery silver star Sophie had picked out herself as a gift for Sue Ann just last year.

Sophie’s beaming smile said she agreed. But the evening had gotten away from Sue Ann. After hot chocolate, she’d whipped up an easy winter meal of soup and grilled cheese for them all, and a glance at the mantel clock now told her that decorating the tree had taken longer than she’d planned. “Sophie, why don’t you go call your dad and tell him we’ll be on our way soon.” She was late dropping Sophie at Jeff and Ronni’s.

“Okay,” her daughter said, scurrying up the steps just off the living room, heading for the upstairs phone.

It was the first time Sue Ann had been alone with Adam all day, the first chance she’d gotten to say, “Thank you. For all your help today. Sophie had a ball, and that doesn’t happen much lately.” And wow—just looking at him now . . . she couldn’t deny that it brought back familiar feelings. Because the last time she’d been alone with him . . . well, they’d been having good, hot, slow-burning sex.

But Adam just gave his head a short shake, shrugging off her words. “I haven’t had this much fun lately, either, so trust me, it was no sacrifice.” Then he lowered his chin skeptically. “Only . . . are you planning to drive to Jeff’s
now
?”

She nodded easily—but then they both glanced past the lit tree to the wintry white night outside the window. The snow had finally stopped after the completion of the snow cat, but at least three or four fresh inches had accumulated. “Don’t worry,” Sue Ann said, reading his thoughts. “The Corolla is pretty tough in snow. Maybe not Snow Valley snow, but luckily, Destiny roads aren’t quite so steep.”

The warm grin he cast in reply nearly turned her heart upside down. She’d had to mention Snow Valley, hadn’t she? And now she was pretty sure he was remembering the same thing she was. “Tough or not,” he finally said, “why don’t you let me drop her at Jeff’s? No need to take any chances when I’ve got four-wheel-drive.”

Hmm. Adam made a considerate offer, and the truth was, she didn’t look forward to the trip to Crestview. Still . . . “This will sound dumb, but I’d feel weird not to take her myself. I just feel . . . like I should spend every second with her I can. I would never want her to think it was too much trouble for me, you know?”

He shrugged. “So ride along with us.”

“But then you’d have to bring me back home.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a whole three blocks out of my way when I pass back by.” Adam lived outside of town on a pretty tract of five acres where, with his father’s help, he’d built a sizable wood ranch house with stone accents and a large stone chimney. “I think I can handle it, Sue Ann.”

And it was true—bringing her home afterward really wouldn’t put him out. Taking Sophie to Crestview in the first place would actually be way more inconvenient. So finally, Sue Ann gave a conceding sigh and said with a cautious smile, “Okay. You talked me into it.” After all, declining his offer would have been silly. She yelled up the stairs, “Soph, when you’re off the phone, go get your backpack. Adam’s gonna drive us over since it’s snowy out.”

When she turned back to Adam, she found him peering critically at the tree. “Where’s that one ornament?”

“That one ornament?” she asked teasingly. “I’m gonna need a little more to go on, Mr. Becker.”

“That old-fashioned glass Santa,” he clarified. “It always used to be on the front of your tree, and I think once you told me it had been passed down through the family. I got the idea it was special to you.”

Ah, one more reminder that Adam had known her for a long time and that his presence in her home wasn’t unusual—it just felt different now; new in a way, but also familiar. Yet the mention of that particular ornament was a little depressing. “Actually, all the old ones are from my grandmother, but that one was my favorite. It got broken last year.” Jeff had dropped it; it had been an honest accident and she’d been sad but not mad. “It always reminded me of Christmases at her house when I was little. She knew I liked it, so she always put it down low, on the front, so I could see it. That’s why I always put it there, too. I’d hoped to give it to Sophie one day.”

“Bummer,” he said, and she nodded. And their eyes met—for maybe a little too long, so she looked away, out the window into the snowy night.