“It’s all going to take time,” Trace went on, “but I’m sure you don’t mind. You probably don’t have anywhere to be for a few days anyway, do you?”
In that moment, Becca realized with startling, joyful clarity that she was fiercely, crazily in love with Trace Bowman. She wanted to run to him and hug him until her arms ached, to tell him just how perfectly he had handled things from the moment they pulled in.
Gabi had sidled closer to her and reached out to grip her knee. Her sister was afraid to hope, she realized. She knew exactly what that felt like. She covered Gabi’s fingers with hers and gave a comforting squeeze.
Monica had apparently decided to try on Angry Power-Broker for size. Her eyes were hard, glittery, her shoulders thrown back. “You are making a serious mistake. You have no idea how much of one. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let some two-bit cop railroad me into some half-assed child abandonment charge that won’t stick anyway. I have an excellent attorney and he’ll have your badge before we’re done with this.”
Trace merely gazed back, unfazed. “I look forward to it, ma’am. I truly do. Now would you please put your hands behind your back?”
“You are not going to arrest me.”
His smile was lethally sharp. “Watch me.”
Much to Becca’s shock, he moved behind Monica and grabbed one arm. The metallic clink of his handcuffs sliding on pinged through the room. Gabi made a little sound of distress that caught Trace’s attention. He gazed at her younger sister for a long moment, pausing before sliding the other cuff on, then turned back to Monica.
“You know, now that I think about it, there is one more alternative.”
“What?” Monica seized on the possibility.
“You sign a legal document giving Becca guardianship of Gabi.”
“Forget it!”
He reached for her other arm, handcuff at the ready. “Fine. This way means a lot more paperwork, but it’s better than being out in the snow on Christmas Eve anyway. Like I said, it might be a couple of days before I can reach anyone in Arizona but we’ll get this straightened out eventually. We might have a few open cases around here we can talk to you about. Oh, say, something that happened ten years ago right around this time of year.”
Monica’s mouth turned white and she aimed another vicious glare at Becca, looking suddenly years older than her very well–maintained fifty. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He sounded cheerful. “We’ll sort all that out eventually.”
“This isn’t right. Trying to take a child from her mother.”
He glanced toward the couch, where Becca now sat holding Gabi’s hand. “You know, you’re absolutely right. Funny thing is, that’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid here. A woman doesn’t necessarily have to give birth to be just the person for the job.”
Tears burned in Becca’s eyes and she held Gabi’s hand more tightly.
The mantel clock chimed ten o’clock. Not even noon and Becca felt as if she’d lived a lifetime since she awoke filled with anticipation for Christmas Eve.
Monica looked at the clock, a hint of panic in her eyes, then she gazed at the sofa at her two daughters. After a long pause, during which Becca could practically see her spinning all the angles, Monica finally released a heavy sigh.
“You’re not going to give me a choice, are you?”
“I believe I gave you a choice,” Trace said calmly. “Child abandonment charges—and whatever else I can find—or you sign custody over to Becca and leave Pine Gulch.”
They all waited, the moments ticking past, until Monica finally frowned. “How am I supposed to sign anything with these stupid cuffs on?”
Gabi hitched in a little breath beside her, her gamine little features a strangely poignant mix of relief and sadness.
“No problem. They weren’t locked anyway.” He pulled the cuffs off and hooked them on his belt again.
“Becca, you’re the attorney. Write up something legally binding that will stand up in court, will you? I can witness as an officer of the court. We still might need to do some maneuvering to dot all the i’s, but I have friends on the bench.”
Monica looked even more furious at this—probably expecting she eventually could figure out a way to wrangle out of any hasty agreement.
“Let’s get this over with, then. I’ve got places to go.”
Fifteen minutes later, it was done. Her quickly composed guardianship transfer was as legally sound as she could make it. Monica signed with short, bitter strokes, then Trace and Gabi unloaded her trunk and backseat. Her mother gave Gabi a tearful hug goodbye, promising to visit as soon as she could. To Becca, Monica only delivered a deep, angry glare, which bothered her not one bit.
Trace backed his patrol car out of the driveway and Monica drove off through the murky December sunlight.
To Becca’s surprise, Trace pulled back into the driveway and climbed out.
“You okay, kiddo?” he asked Gabi, whose chin still tended to wobble as she watched her mother drive away. “You didn’t mean what you said about wanting to go with her, did you?”
“I only said that because she said she would have Becca put in jail for taking me if I didn’t. She’s my mom. I love her, even though sometimes it’s hard. But things have been better since we’ve been here. I like going to school and making friends and having my own bedroom.” She paused, her features uncertain as she looked at Becca. “Are you sure you want me to stay, though? I’ve caused a lot of trouble.”
“Oh, absolutely, my dear.” She hugged her sister close, thinking about how very much her life had changed in a few months. Trace’s words seemed to ring through her head. A woman doesn’t necessarily have to give birth to be just the person for the job.
She hadn’t wanted to be a mother before Gabi came into her life. Now she couldn’t imagine her world without her funny, clever, challenging little sister.
“I’m going to start putting my things away,” Gabi said. “Do you think maybe I could get some posters to hang on the wall?”
Becca fought tears. Gabi wanted to decorate her room, finally, after nearly a month here. “I think that would be just perfect.”
With the resiliency of the young, Gabi hurried up the stairs, leaving Trace and Becca alone in her grandfather’s living room.
She was suddenly fiercely aware of him, his solid strength and comfort. She remembered the heat of his mouth on hers and the sweet peace she found in his arms.
She swallowed, choosing to focus on the events of the morning instead of those handful of dangerous moments she replayed over and over in her mind.
“Thank you for everything. I can’t believe you just let Monica leave like that, without arresting her. What about the old case?”
“The whole point was to convince her to sign the guardianship papers, not to pursue a hazy link to a ten-year-old crime she probably could never be prosecuted for. I would have liked to question her to see if she could lead us to someone else involved, but maybe I can still eventually pursue that.”
She stared at him, the pieces falling together finally. Ten years. Pine Gulch. Christmas. A job that went violently wrong. “Your parents. Oh, dear heavens. Do you think she might have been involved with your parents’ murders?”
He looked more distant than he had all morning. “Possibly. A woman claiming to be an art student showed up at the house out of the blue a few days before the murders, asking to see the collection. My mother was the only one home. Caidy said my mother told her about it and said she felt sorry for the woman because she was quite pregnant, without a ring on her finger, and seemed tired and down. That’s the sort of thing my mother would have worried about. She thought the artwork would cheer her up, so she let her inside to see the collection and take pictures. My mother told Caidy she was quite charming.”
Nausea churned in her stomach. “You think that might have been Monica?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I have no proof. Nothing to definitely connect her except a ten-year-old hearsay account of an encounter that may or may not have taken place. It’s a starting point, though. A lead I didn’t have yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “You’re not responsible for something your mother may or may not have done.”
He was absolutely right. She had spent far too much time in her life apologizing for Monica. In Phoenix, she had basically cleaned out her assets to pay Monica’s debts. Someone else might have walked away and left the victims to suffer, but that wasn’t in her nature. She might not have committed the crimes, but Monica had used Becca’s connections in the real-estate world, which left her tangentially responsible.
Trace glanced at the mantel clock. “I should go. We’re shorthanded from the holidays and I should be out on patrol.”
“Of course. Thank you, again. You’ve given me a precious gift for Christmas. Peace of mind is better than anything else I could find under the tree.”
“I’m glad.” He smiled, and for a moment she was lost in the green of his eyes, like new leaves unfurling in the springtime… .
She jerked herself back to reality. “I hate to ask but I wondered if I could have one more favor.”
“Absolutely.”
His immediate willingness sent more warmth to nestle near her heart. “Are you still serious about finding another home for your dog?”
He blinked. “I don’t want to give him away,” he said slowly. “But I have to think he would be happier where he’s not alone all the time.”
Wouldn’t we all? she thought. “In that case, I think Gabi would love to add Grunt to our family. She’s never had a pet before.”
“Great! I think you’re going to make a dog very happy. And a girl, for that matter. Do you want me to bring him over later so you can give him to her for Christmas morning?”
“What a wonderful idea! I never thought of that.”
“I’m on until eleven. Would it be too late for me to bring him over after my shift?”
“Not at all. Are you sure you’re okay with giving him away?”
“It will be better for Grunt. He’ll be happy to be back here, the place that was the only home he knew. I’ll miss his ugly little face but I can always visit, right?”
For some ridiculous reason, she could feel herself blush. “Yes. Anytime you’d like.”
“Good to know.” He smiled warmly and her blush spread.
“Merry Christmas. I’ll stop by later tonight with Grunt.”
She nodded and held the door open. Because of him, her Christmas suddenly seemed wonderfully bright—in no small part because she knew she would see him again in a few hours.
Chapter Thirteen
“I know it’s cold. Hang on, little dude. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Grunt tugged against his leash, his squat legs waddling through snow that reached his barrel chest. The dog seemed to sense he was heading back to his former home as they walked through the moonlit Christmas Eve. He showed more energy and enthusiasm than he had in a long time. Trace had to hurry to keep up, juggling his bundle of blankets and the bag full of food, toys, a water dish.
He had to admit that he was just as eager to reach Becca’s house, but he forced himself to take his time and enjoy the cold air, the glitter of stars overhead, the reflection of his neighbors’ colored lights gleaming through snow.
All day and evening as he had worked the inevitable fender-benders, grim domestic-disturbance calls, a small kitchen fire at old Mrs. McPurdy’s that had resulted in a quick change of venue for her family’s annual Christmas Eve bash, he had been aware of a low thrum of anticipation, knowing he would see Becca again.
He hadn’t been able to shake the memory of the joy on her face while their mother drove away. Somehow he sensed those moments of sheer relieved joy had been rare in her life and he wanted to give her more.
Yeah, he had it bad.
He sighed, hoping he wasn’t jumping ahead of himself here, like Grunt leaping into snowdrifts he couldn’t find his way out of again.
The dog gave an excited huff as they reached old Wally Taylor’s sidewalk and he started a sideways little dance that made Trace smile. Yes, this would be good for the dog and, he hoped, for Gabi.
The curtains were open again and he could see the Christmas tree he’d brought over a lifetime ago glowing against the winter’s night. The scene inside looked bright and warm and infinitely inviting.
He knocked softly on the door, not wanting to wake up Gabi on this night where children found sleep so very difficult.
Becca opened it almost instantly, as if she had been waiting there for him. Her features were soft and welcoming and he wanted to stand on this cold porch all night and just soak her in.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He couldn’t think what else to say, so he only held up the leash and Grunt pranced through the doorway, the squat, ugly little lord of the manor.
Becca smiled, her eyes bright and happy as she knelt down to scratch Grunt’s chin. The little French bulldog gazed at her with complete adoration. “Thank you for bringing him over. Gabi will be so thrilled tomorrow morning when she finds him under the tree.”
“He’s not the most attractive dog in the world for a nine-year-old girl.”
“He’s adorably ugly. Trust me, she’s going to love him.”
Trace reached down to unhook his leash and Grunt trotted around the room, sniffing all the corners and the Christmas tree. At least he no longer looked as if he expected to see Wally around every corner.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked.
Yes. With a ferocity that unsettled him. He managed a calm smile. “Sure. Thank you.”
She closed the door behind him and he was immediately enveloped in the warmth from the fire and the sweet Christmas smells of pine boughs and cinnamon sugar.
“Let me take your coat,” she said.
He shrugged out of it and handed it over to her. Their hands brushed, a tiny spark dancing between them, and he wanted to kiss her with a hunger that bordered on insatiable. She had pushed him away the last time. Would she again?
She hung his coat on the hook by the door. “Can I get you something? Cocoa or tea or something? I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger right now. I should have bought something but I didn’t think about it.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
They stood in a slightly awkward silence. She was the first to break it, blurting out as if she’d rehearsed it, “I have to say this again. I’m so sorry again about … my mother and Gabi and everything. I feel horrible that I lied to you.”
He shook his head. “Please, don’t worry about it. I understand why you did. I only wish you had trusted me to help you.”
“I should have.” She sighed. “From the very first day we met, you’ve been nothing but … kind to me and to Gabi.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it.”
His words sounded harsh, even to his ears. She flashed a quick look at him and he saw awareness bloom there. A fine and delicate tension suddenly seethed between them, and with a low sigh he finally reached for her and kissed her.
After a surprised moment, her mouth softened under his and he felt the brush of her arms at his sides as she wrapped them around him. She fit against him perfectly, her curves in exactly the right places, and she tasted sweet and enticing, a hint of chocolate, a hint of peppermint.
They kissed for a long time and he had the strange sense of familiarity, as if he’d been waiting for just this moment his entire life.
She made a tiny sound of pleasure that slid down his spine as if she’d trailed her fingers there, and her arms tightened around him, pressing her curves against him.
When he lifted his head some time later, her eyes were dazed, her mouth full and so lush he wanted to start all over again at t
he beginning. He tried to speak and had to clear his throat twice to make any words come out. “I have to know, Becca,” he said gruff ly. “The last time we were here in this particular place, you told me you weren’t interested in a relationship. Does that statement still stand?”
She gazed at him, her eyes a huge, lash-fringed blue. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, as if trying to come to a decision, and then she shook her head with a soft smile and stood on tiptoe to kiss him again.
Joy exploded through him and he laughed a little against her mouth, yanking her more tightly toward him. He kissed her hard, fiercely. She responded with a heat and passion that scorched through him, made him want to lower her to the floor right now and forget the world.? …
He drew in a breath, fighting for control. It was too much, too fast. He wanted to slow things down and savor every moment of this magical heat between them.
With supreme effort, he slid his mouth away, his breathing ragged. They were still standing in her entryway, he realized with some vague sense of surprise. He tugged her with him to the sofa, where he sat down and pulled her alongside him, absorbing her sweetness and her strength and all the things about this particular woman that called so strongly to him.
“It was never about you,” she admitted after a moment, wrapped in his arms on the sofa while the fire glowed and the Christmas tree lights flickered.
He was aware of a vast feeling of contentment seeping through him, warming all the cold, empty places he tried not to notice most of the time.
“If you want the truth, I was afraid to let you too close. I sensed, even that first day, that you were a man I could count on, but I just … haven’t had very many of those in my life.”
He kissed her gently, thinking of how she had walked such a long, difficult road by herself. He hated imagining her as a girl of sixteen trying to make her way alone in a world that usually wasn’t very kind.
Christmas in Cold Creek Page 17
