Instead, he’d been drinking and partying, making out with a lying little bitch while his parents died violent and tragic deaths, his younger sister emotionally scarred for life.
His siblings hadn’t blamed him. He still didn’t understand why but he was deeply grateful for their forbearance. He pushed the thought away as he watched Becca help Gabi into her coat and backpack. He couldn’t hear their conversation but he saw Becca pull her daughter into a hug. “I’m sorry, honey, but you have to face this,” he heard her say.
Gabi released a heavy sigh and started trudging toward the door as if she were heading toward a month of math exams. She had to pass his table as she went and he impulsively reached out a hand and grabbed her arm. “Everything will be okay, Gabi. Any girl tough enough to set up a Christmas tree on the first try can handle this.”
She didn’t look convinced but she still gave him a hesitant smile that seemed to reach right in and nestle next to his heart. “Thanks,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
When he looked up, he found Becca watching him with an unreadable look in her eyes. Just before Gabi reached the door, Becca called out to her to wait for a moment, then she turned to Donna, working behind the counter. “Donna, do you mind if I take my break a little early so I can run Gabi to school? It’s snowing pretty hard out there.”
“No problem,” the older woman answered. “I can cover your section.”
Becca hurried to the back room and returned a moment later minus her apron and carrying her coat and purse.
While she was gone, Trace and the mayor finished their plan of attack on the hazardous intersection—a new four-way-stop and better signage—and the mayor excused himself to meet with the head of the public works department that took care of the roads.
Trace was just about done with his omelet when Becca returned, her features tight with stress.
He had a ridiculous urge to pull her down beside him, tuck her under his arm and let her lean on him for a moment. She gave him a distracted smile but moved into the back room again to change out of her coat and back into her apron.
He needed to head into the station but found himself reluctant to leave without talking to her again. When she bustled out and started making the rounds of the diner with coffee, he fought the urge to grab her hand and make her stop and rest for a moment. Finally she made it to his table.
“Looks like the mayor paid for your breakfast. Would you like more coffee before you leave, Chief Bowman?”
She had called him Trace when he kissed her. He found himself reliving that kiss in great detail and wanting nothing more than another taste. “I’m good. I’ve got to head into the station, anyway. Gabi made it to school, then?”
Her smile faltered a little and he saw worry in her eyes. “I stayed and watched her walk all the way through the front doors and even saw Jennie Dalton greet her at the entrance. I don’t think she’ll be able to duck outside again, not with the principal herself in view.”
He had a feeling Gabi was clever enough to do just that but he decided not to worry Becca by sharing that particular opinion.
“She told me what you said, about being brave enough to face her lies and how much better she’ll feel when she’s made things right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. She’s a good kid, Becca. I really do think she just told a little lie and then got carried away. It happens.”
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, obviously changing her mind. “I’m sure you’re right, Chief,” she said solemnly before heading to the kitchen.
The mayor had probably covered his tip as well, but Trace left a few bills on the table anyway, wanting to leave her a healthy but not exorbitant gratuity. She would hate feeling like an object of charity, he knew.
His day was hectic with snow-related trouble. Besides the usual car accidents, a section of roof collapsed on the auto parts store, injuring an employee and a customer. He only had time for the occasional worry for Becca and Gabi until he returned to his own house twelve hours later to find a basket on his doorstep, its contents hidden in red tissue paper.
It wasn’t unusual this time of year for Pine Gulch citizens to drop off the occasional thank-you gift for the police department. People typically made these sorts of deliveries to the police station but since everyone in town knew where he lived, he had occasionally been the recipient of a box of fudge or some peanut brittle. He considered that one of the best things about living in Pine Gulch. The small police force had its detractors, certainly, but most of the residents seemed to appreciate the sacrifice and dedication of his officers.
He slid open the envelope and saw the note with its slanting, firm handwriting. “We made sugar cookies this afternoon and Gabi wanted to bring you some,” Becca wrote. “Thank you for buoying up a frightened girl. She survived the day, with your help.”
He unlocked the door to a barked greeting from his ugly, grumpy dog, who spent most of the day sleeping or sniffing around the perimeter of his yard as if guarding a demilitarized zone.
He patted the dog’s head and scratched behind his ears. Poor thing, spending so much time by himself. Trace tried to take him around town whenever he could, but Grunt seemed to prefer his own company, probably from all those years as a companion to a dour old man.
He ought to look around for a new home for Grunt. A family, maybe. Noisy and hectic. That would be good for him. Caidy had offered to take him to the ranch to add to her menagerie. Grunt wasn’t crazy about horses and had a hard time keeping up with Caidy’s more active ranch dogs, but he might still enjoy the company.
He nibbled on a cookie, then gave a tiny section to Grunt, who gobbled it up and came back looking for more. Trace knew he ought to just sit here and eat his cookies and stay away from his very lovely—and dangerous—neighbor. But he found himself consumed with curiosity to find out how things went for Gabi beyond this hastily penned note.
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
The dog yawned and planted his head down across his front paws. Trace shook his head in exasperation. “Too bad. We’re going.”
He grabbed the leash off the hook by the door and fastened it around the dog’s collar, then surveyed his kitchen. He needed more of an excuse to drop by her house than merely taking his dog for a walk. When his gaze landed on the basket full of cookies, he smiled and reached into the cupboard for another container. After transferring the cookies from her basket to his container, he rummaged through the cupboard for one of his few precious remaining jars of pepper jelly that Caidy and Destry had made him in the summer. They knew it was his favorite, so every year Caidy put up a dozen jars just for him. He cherished each one but he was willing to part with one if it would get him through Becca’s door.
By the time he hooked the leash on the dog’s collar, Grunt had perked up a bit and shuffled around impatiently for Trace to unlock the door. The snow had stopped, he was glad to see. This had definitely been a record-breaker of a December so far. The snowmobilers were loving it.
Somebody with a snowblower had cleared all the sidewalks on the street, he was grateful to see. He followed the ridged tracks all the way to Wally Taylor’s old house. Her curtains were open, and as he approached the house he saw her inside on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket with a book spread open on her lap, a lamp lit beside her and the Christmas tree lights sending shifting colors across her features.
Something hungry and insistent curled low in his gut. He wanted her, wanted this. The whole picture: a cozy fire on a bitter winter’s night, a comfortable house made welcoming for the holidays and especially the warm and lovely woman waiting for him at the end of a hard day.
He didn’t want these feelings, particularly not for a woman who didn’t trust him and who pushed him away at every opportunity, but he was very much afraid it was too late.
She looked up from her book at that precise moment and her gaze met his through the frost-filigree glass of her window. Her eyes widened with surp
rise and something else. He wanted to think she was happy to see him but he couldn’t be sure.
He gestured toward the front door, then walked up onto the porch to wait for her to open it. When she did, her features were wary.
“Trace! Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
“I’ve got my dog. Do you mind if I bring him inside?”
“You have a dog?”
“Well, I’ve always assumed he’s a dog, though he might be a mutant goblin of some sort.”
She gazed down at his funny-looking dog with a look of fascination. “He’s welcome to come inside.”
Warmth enfolded him as he walked inside the house that smelled of Christmas, of pine trees and cookies and cinnamon.
“He’s, um, an interesting-looking dog.”
“He was your grandfather’s, actually. Grunt, this is Becca.”
The dog belched a greeting and Becca smiled a little before turning back to Trace. “What kind of dog is, um, Grunt?”
“The vet says French bulldog, mostly, with a few other breeds thrown in just to muddy the waters.”
“Ah. Is everything okay? Please don’t tell me you just found out Gabi’s been spreading some other kind of lie. I don’t think I can handle more.”
He laughed, though he was thinking again how foolish he had been to come here. “No. Grunt needed to get out so I thought I would return your basket and tell you thanks for the cookies.”
“That was all Gabi’s idea. She insisted we take some to you.”
“We shared one before we walked over and it was delicious. I’m not sure I can eat a dozen sugar Christmas trees on my own but I’ll do my best.”
She smiled. “I told Gabi it might be too many but she wanted you to have a basketful. You can always take them into the station for the other officers.”
“I might do that.” He paused and decided he might as well be honest. “Okay, returning your basket was only an excuse. Though I did include some of my prized pepper jelly.”
“You make pepper jelly?”
“No. My sister and niece do. But I certainly prize it.”
She genuinely laughed at that, something he considered a major accomplishment. “Okay. Why did you need an excuse?”
“I had to know how things went today for Gabi. Did the other girls shun her after she told the truth, that she wasn’t sick?”
“No, actually.” She returned to her seat on the sofa and he took that as invitation to sit down in the easy chair. Grunt sniffed around the house, probably looking for some lingering trace of his previous master, poor thing. “She said a few of the girls were angry but most of them seemed happy she wasn’t really dying. Gabi said their reactions will help her know which girls are really her friends.”
“How about Destry? Was she one of the angry ones?”
Becca’s expression softened. “Gabi said she was one of the kindest of the girls. She even invited Gabi to a sleepover during the Christmas holidays.”
He was grateful he wouldn’t have to have a sit-down talk with his niece about compassion and forgiveness. “Des has faced her own rough road. Her mother walked out on her when she was just a toddler and I think that might have made her more compassionate than most kids her age.”
“That can happen.” She studied him for a long moment. “Are you just coming home from work, then? It’s nine o’clock.”
This was becoming a habit, seeing her at breakfast and then again at the end of the day. He probably shouldn’t find such comfort in that.
“Yeah. It’s been a crazy day. Slide-offs and fender-benders. For some reason, people completely lose all good sense when it snows.”
“Did you eat dinner?”
“Not yet. I’ll find something when I head home.”
“I made soup tonight for dinner. Minestrone and breadsticks. We’ve got tons of leftovers. If you’d like, I could heat you up a bowl.”
His stomach grumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, the last meal she’d served him.
“I didn’t come here for you to fix me dinner, Becca.”
Why did you come here? She didn’t speak the words but he could see the question plainly in her eyes. He hoped she didn’t ask, as he wasn’t entirely sure he could answer.
“I’m happy to do it. Consider it my little way of helping the police department.”
While she headed into the kitchen without waiting for him to answer, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a chair. Grunt jumped into Trace’s recently vacated chair as if it had been his customary place.
“You miss him, don’t you, bud?”
The grouchy dog gave a cross between a whine and a sigh and closed his eyes. Out of sheer curiosity, Trace picked up the thick book she had been reading and just about fell over at the title and the contents.
He carried the heavy legal journal into the kitchen and held it up. “Nice, relaxing reading for a winter’s evening.”
Her lips parted and her hands froze in the process of spooning soup into a bowl. He thought he saw embarrassment and perhaps a trace of guilt flit across her features. “I’m hoping to be accepted into the Idaho bar in the next few months,” she said, almost defiantly. “As part of the process of reciprocal admission, I have to take some self-study classes on Idaho state law and procedures.”
He stared at her, completely floored. Everything he thought he knew about her had just been shaken and tossed out the window.
“You’re an attorney?”
“Yes. I have been for three years. But I can’t technically practice in Idaho until I complete the process.”
“What’s an Arizona attorney doing slinging hash at a diner in tiny Pine Gulch, Idaho?”
She looked away, focusing her attention on the bowl in front of her. “That’s a really long story. Do you want some grated romano cheese in your soup?”
Trace had plenty of experience with evasion in his profession and he knew sometimes the best strategy was to exercise a little patience. “Yes. Thank you.”
For the next few moments, he was busy enjoying the very savory and delicious soup, rich in vegetables and broth. She heated up several breadsticks for him and slid them onto a plate, then sat down across the little table from him.
“So what’s the story, Becca?” he finally asked.
She sighed. “After my, um, grandfather left me the house, I decided Gabi and I could both use a change. This was a good opportunity for us. That’s all.”
“That’s your long story?”
“The CliffsNotes version, anyway.”
As he tried to reconcile this new picture of her, he realized the image of her as a lawyer gelled much more clearly in his mind than as a waitress. He knew many very clever and savvy waitresses but he had always sensed Becca didn’t quite fit in that venue.
He also was smart enough to figure out there was more to her story than her very brief explanation.
“And Gabi’s father? Where does he fit into the story?”
Her eyes flared with shock at the question but she hid it quickly behind a cool smile. “I believe he was just a minor footnote in the introduction. He’s not in Gabi’s life whatsoever and hasn’t been for years.”
He was happier about that than he ought to be. “Are you intending to open a practice here?” he asked.
“Eventually. That’s the plan, anyway, when I save enough money. I still have some student loans I’m paying off and I’m trying not to go into more debt if I can help it.”
He was definitely happier about that than he ought to be. Not the debt-paying part, though that was certainly honorable, but the part about her wanting to open a practice in Pine Gulch.
“What sort of law?”
“In Phoenix, I was involved in contract law. Real estate, specifically. I imagine if I want to practice in a small town like Pine Gulch, I’ll have to branch out into whatever my clients might need.”
He was still having trouble processing all this. “You said you were a real-estate attorney in Ph
oenix. Were you working for a firm there or did you have your own practice?”
She looked toward the fire, not meeting his gaze. “I was an associate in a large firm.”
“Was it tough to walk away from Phoenix? You probably had clients you’d worked with for a while there.”
She jumped to her feet and headed to the fire to add a log from the small stack on the hearth. “We needed a new start,” she repeated, her voice firm, and again he sensed there was more to the story. Her features were taut with fine-etched tension. She wasn’t telling him something. He sensed it instinctively but he could think of no way to persuade her to trust him with her problems.
Grunt whined suddenly, probably wondering why Wally Taylor wasn’t the one fueling the fire, why the old man didn’t come shuffling out of the kitchen somewhere.
“I can’t believe you kept my grandfather’s dog,” she said with a rueful shake of her head.
“I was afraid the local shelter wouldn’t be able to find someone else to adopt him. He’s not the most attractive dog.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” she murmured dryly. Ugly dog or not, she walked toward the chair where the dog was now looking mournfully around the room. She scratched him on the scruff and Grunt sniffed her with considerable reserve on his smashed features. He apparently decided she would do because he darted his tongue out and licked her hand, a show of acceptance Trace wasn’t sure he’d earned yet.
“He’s really quite adorable, in a hideous sort of way.”
He gave her a considering look. “Would you and Gabi like to adopt him?” he asked on impulse. “I was just thinking earlier that he needed a house with children in it. Besides that, I’m rarely home and he’s alone all day. I think he’s lonely and I’m sure he would be happier here in the only house he’s ever known.”
Shock flickered in her eyes and her gaze shifted from the dog to him and then back to Grunt again. “I … I don’t …”
Christmas in Cold Creek Page 12
