by Vivian Arend
“Just wanted to touch base. You heard about Hanna and Crissy and the fire?”
“I did. I’m glad they’re okay.”
“They’re doing great, but it’s possible shock might hit. I wanted to warn you to keep an eye on Crissy and her classmates—sometimes events like this can trigger bad memories. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to give me a shout. In fact, why don’t I come to the classroom this week to talk to the kids.”
Ivy made a noise of approval. “That’s a great idea. Did you want to come in the same time your father is going to be here?”
“Wednesday afternoon? Sure, that should work.”
“We’ll look forward to it.”
Brad made one final request before hanging up, the kitten in his lap purring like a much larger-sized beast. He stroked a finger between its ears. “Time for you to go back with your siblings.”
He scooped the cat up and carried it to where the current nest of kittens were piled in a warm heap. Then he made his way into the house where the sharp scent of ginger filled his nostrils and made his mouth water.
“Tell me you need a tester,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.
Three heads swiveled toward him, somewhat guilty expressions on the two older faces.
Cookie crumbs decorated his father’s beard, and Hanna had a streak of icing on her cheek. The only one still grinning as she munched was Crissy.
“We’re eating the broken pieces,” she explained, rushing forward to escort him to his own kitchen table. “Mommy said it wasn’t a good idea to decorate the gingerbread man who had no head. And Mr. Patrick said that would be like gingerbread zombies.”
“Dad,” Brad admonished his father. “Zombies?”
Patrick held up a bowl of icing that was tinged bright red. He didn’t say anything. Just held the gory-looking mess in the air and raised a brow.
Brad laughed. “What can I help with?”
Hanna put him to work, directing him to the far side of the table where another set of icing packets waited. That sense of memory, with the past and future mixing together, struck him hard. “My mom used these every year,” he told her, holding the icing plunger in the air.
She leaned in closer and spoke as if sharing a huge secret. “I don’t think she taught your father how to use them.”
She smelled like sugar and spice. Screw the cookies, he wanted to take a bite of her. “Nope. But I know how.”
Her smile bloomed, and then she proved that in spite of being small and seemingly delicate, she had the ability to order him around as if she were a staff sergeant. For the next hour he decorated cookies, and he was only allowed to eat the ones that were broken.
Of course he had to hide his amusement when he caught Crissy carefully tearing the arm off a cookie under the edge of the table so she could pass over the pieces, her face innocent as the day.
Sweet mischief. Sweet happiness.
Across from him at the table, Patrick was smiling, the happiest Brad had seen him in recent memory. Whatever else had brought them to this point, he couldn’t feel much regret.
Hanna was back to check out his work with a strict eye. “You missed one,” she informed him, pointing at a gingerbread man he’d failed to give a set of buttons.
“Easily fixed,” he assured her, leaning forward to concentrate.
In the background, Patrick was wandering out of the kitchen, and Crissy, with a cookie in either hand, was following behind.
Hanna ignored them, focusing one hundred percent on him applying pressure to the icing tool—
The plastic cracked, shooting the icing in a new direction, which happened to be directly toward their faces.
He stopped immediately but it was too late. There was a set of red freckles all over Hanna’s face, and from the feeling of it, his as well.
The sound started soft and low before picking up volume. Not quite a giggle and not quite a chuckle, but amusement of the purest kind. Hanna Lane was laughing as she straightened up, and she touched a finger to her skin, pulling back with red smeared across her cheek and the smallest portion clinging to her fingertip. “You have a special talent,” she told him, amusement in her eyes.
“Seriously. I don’t know my own strength,” he offered as an excuse.
“You look funny with freckles,” she teased a second before she touched her finger to his face and wiped off one of the blobs. She lifted her hand in the air and placed it in front of his face.
He was totally going to end up on Santa’s naughty list, but there was no way to resist. Brad caught her by the wrist and tugged the short distance it took to suck her finger into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip and licked up the sweetness clinging there.
The only protest he got was a widening of her eyes. If she’d jerked her hand back, or made a noise of distress, he would’ve stopped instantly.
No. What she did was take a long, slow, very shaky breath.
When she licked her lips, he was the one to call it quits. Temptation burned him hard, and the short moment of connection had sent all the blood in his body pouring south.
He pulled her finger free, keeping his lips closed around it until the last second. Staring into her eyes but seeing her nipples press to the front of her T-shirt—damn him for having really good peripheral vision.
“You do have an addiction to sweets,” Hanna offered breathlessly.
Before he could answer she turned and began to tidy up, safely out of arms’ reach.
7
Temptation came in six-foot-plus packages.
Hanna tidied the kitchen with Brad working quietly at her side. She’d fully expected to spend the rest of the evening hot and bothered, and desperately trying not to look as if that’s how she felt.
It wasn’t until she finally sat down with a piece of paper to make a list of what she needed to deal with after the fire that the heat Brad had lit inside cooled far too quickly.
Driver’s license, credit card. The entire contents of her wallet. The only thing she didn’t have to deal with were birth certificates and the legal work the lawyers had put together regarding Crissy and her. Those were carefully stowed in a safety deposit box.
The realization that the lawyers’ office would have to replace everything they’d lost as well made her shiver. So many important papers—she was glad she’d listened to her friends when they’d recommended paying the expense for the box “just in case.”
She tucked her daughter into bed that night, holding her little girl extra tight for a moment. “You okay, baby?”
“I’m not a baby,” Crissy protested.
No, from the way she cuddled in tight she was a kitten same as the ones that they’d gone outside to say good night to before Crissy had her bath and crawled into borrowed pyjamas. “You’re right. You’re my beautiful girl. You were very good today.”
Crissy made a face. “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”
Hanna nodded. “Ms. Fields would be sad if you didn’t. So would Emma and the rest of your friends.”
Tears welled up in Crissy’s eyes. Not fake ones, as if she was trying to get out of going to bed, but true, deep sadness. “I have to tell them all my things got burnt up.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.” She held Crissy, finally allowing herself to truly think about the realization that had hit while making her list.
Some things were irreplaceable. Not many, but things like Crissy’s baby book, and the bits and pieces Hanna had saved over the years and put together as a memento—those were gone forever.
But it was her job to make sure her little girl realized that they still had what was most important. Each other. “We won’t be able to replace everything at once, but after school tomorrow, we can do some shopping.”
Crissy’s head dipped then she kissed Hanna sweetly and cuddled in with her borrowed teddy bear and probably fell asleep before Hanna had made it back into the hallway.
She went to the living room to rejoin Patrick and Br
ad.
Patrick sat in his recliner near the fire. The matching chair to his sat empty in the middle of the room while Brad stretched his legs out in a much larger chair on the other side.
She hesitated.
Patrick shook his head before pointing at the empty chair. “Connie wouldn’t mind one bit if you put your feet up and relaxed.”
Hanna moved quickly and sat down, the soft cushions cradling her like a warm hug. “Thank you.”
“What are your plans tomorrow?” Brad asked.
“I need to work on replacing things, and I’ve got to find a new apartment for January first, so—”
“Hold your horses,” Patrick interrupted. “Put that to the bottom of the list. The house hunting.” He held up a hand to stop her protests. “Little missy, you’ve got enough things to worry about right now without putting something on your plate that makes no sense. It’s only two weeks until the New Year. With the holidays, it’s going to be impossible to find accommodation and deal with everything else. I want you to plan on staying here, and we’ll make sure that you get settled somewhere good by the beginning of February.”
Part of her wanted to protest, but the other part that was smarter than her sense of pride took a deep breath and accepted the help.
The memories of having to do that back when she was pregnant with Crissy rushed in again. Good memories, because good people had helped, but painful as well, because…
She met Patrick’s gaze straight on. “That’s a generous offer, and I know Brad told me to stop repeating myself, but thank you. I so appreciate you opening up your home to me and Crissy.”
The old man nodded, a strange sort of satisfaction written in his expression. “Glad to help. That’s what we’re supposed to do, especially at this time of year.”
She opened the notepad Brad had given her and looked down at the long list of tasks to accomplish she’d made earlier, trying to make some sense of when she’d be able to get it all done. The fire crackled and she made notes, but as the list got longer, her sense of hopelessness grew as well.
Floorboards creaked, and she glanced up to discover Brad kneeling beside her chair looking her over with a concerned expression. “You okay?”
She was not going to cry. “I’m a little tired.”
A soft snore carried on the air. Patrick had fallen asleep in his recliner, feet outstretched and totally relaxed.
Brad chuckled softly. “So’s my dad. Why don’t you head to bed?” he suggested.
As tempting as it was, Hanna had dealt with this before. “If I go to bed now, working tomorrow night will be terrible. I have to stay up until at least midnight or I’ll be off my routine.”
His gaze drifted over her face. “You’re back to work tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I have to. I’m down one job already, and I can’t afford to miss any other days.”
“Will you get any time off over the holidays?”
Hanna considered the calendar she’d drawn on the notepad. “Almost a week, which is good, and bad. I’ll have time to get caught up on a lot of the things I need to do.”
“Bad because you don’t get paid if you don’t work, right?” His expression softened with understanding as she nodded. “Hanna, if you need any—”
She placed her fingers over his mouth to stop him before he went too far. “Please don’t offer me money. You’ve already done more than enough. I promise I’ll ask if it gets bad.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Hanna’s fingers burned as the intimate connection registered, her hand over his lips. An echo of him licking her fingers in the kitchen rushed up, and suddenly she was back to running hot and cold.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, clearly in control as he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm.
Hanna found it difficult to take a deep breath.
He let her fingers go and cleared his throat. “On a different topic, you and I are supposed to have a date tomorrow.”
It took a moment to remember, and when she did, the strange, discombobulated sensation grew in her belly. “I thought we weren’t going to date while Crissy and I are living here.”
“I said nothing would happen that you didn’t want,” he reminded her. “Dating doesn’t mean we’re jumping into bed. It means we’re spending time together, and I don’t see why we shouldn’t go ahead with that part of the deal.”
Could he tell how hard her heart was pounding from him mentioning sex? Hanna opened her mouth to refuse before realizing it would be an utter lie to say she didn’t want to spend time with him.
The other part was the truth as well. “I’m…a little overwhelmed right now,” she confessed.
He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb gently over her skin. “Can you trust me to keep an eye on you, sugar? To not push too far, too fast?”
Maybe it made no sense, but that was the one thing she absolutely knew was true—she trusted him. “Okay.”
His lips curled upward. “Okay, you trust me? Or okay to a date?”
He was going to make her say it, the meanie. “Yes, I trust you. You mentioned horseback riding, but I don’t think we’ll have time.” She raised the notebook in the air. “I need to deal with a lot of this tomorrow. I also have to drop off and pick up Crissy from school, and I promised we could go shopping, so I need to hit the bank. And somewhere in there I have to have a nap.”
“What time do you start work in the evening?”
“Usually at eight o’clock. I thought I’d get Crissy to bed before I leave, to make sure she’s okay. I’ll leave once she’s down.”
Brad grinned as a particularly loud snore rolled from the chair to their right. “We’ll leave the horses for now. What if our date tomorrow involved me helping you with your list? We can take Crissy to school then get the most important things done in the morning. I’ll bring you back here after lunch, and you can nap until it’s time to pick her up from school.”
It sounded the way everything he offered did. Far too generous. “It’s not much of a date,” she pointed out.
“It’ll be a great date,” he insisted. His gaze dropped to her lips. “I plan to hold your hand. Lots. Maybe kiss you. More than once.”
There was no way he could miss the shiver that shook her from top to bottom. “Oh.”
He glanced at his father before standing and offering her a hand. “Come on, sugar. If you can’t go to sleep until after midnight, then we’d better find something less sleep-inducing to watch than a fire.”
It felt strange and yet wonderful to slip her hands into his and let him tug her from the room. “Where are we going?”
A soft chuckle drifted her way. “Trust me.”
She did, far too much, and she couldn’t afford for that to be her downfall. Still, his hand was big and warm around hers as she followed at his side into a room that needed no explanation.
This time Hanna laughed. “You have a man cave.”
The living room had been all about comfort, centered around the fireplace. This room had a pool table that filled half the space, while the remaining half had overstuffed chairs and a couch facing the biggest TV screen Hanna had ever seen in her life.
Brad brought her to the couch and let her settle in one corner. He took off for a brief moment before coming back with a fluffy blanket in one hand, the remote control in the other.
He sat down, not in the opposite corner, but right in the middle. His weight dented the seat cushion hard enough to cause her to roll partly toward him. Hanna’s leg and hips bumped his. He flicked the blanket out and covered their lower bodies, wrapping her up in a warm cocoon between the fabric and his nearness.
It was still perfectly respectful. She’d sat this close to her friends before whenever a group of them had crowded onto the same couch.
This? Totally different.
“Christmas movies,” Brad suggested. “We can do a countdown of the top ten all-time best holiday classics.”
“What if my top ten are differe
nt than your top ten?” Hanna teased, surprised she managed to get the words out.
“Well, that would be a travesty because my top ten are the ultimate top ten.”
He clicked on the power, turned to Netflix and started up a movie. And before she could say anything, he reached over and caught her fingers in his. Holding her hand on top of the blanket as the action unfolded on the screen before them.
Once her heart rate slowed slightly, she found herself relaxing against him, eventually leaning her head on his shoulder. Letting his presence give her a small moment of pleasure.
Tomorrow was back to the real world and everything she had to do to take care of herself and her daughter, but right here and now, she was going to enjoy the pocket of peacefulness.
Brad couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an evening end with his date’s head on his shoulder, the woman sound asleep.
Hanna had held on until about eleven forty-five, at which point he didn’t think it was worth wiggling to keep her awake the way he’d done all the previous times she’d started to nod off.
The fact she was comfortable enough to sleep cuddled against him was a good thing. Or at least, he tried to reassure himself that it wasn’t because he was the most boring person on the face of the earth.
He’d have to assume his promise to go slow and be trustworthy had been accepted at face value. Which is why he had the ability to spend that last fifteen minutes staring as she breathed evenly, chest rising and falling against his arm. He’d kept hold of her hand until she wiggled it free, curling her fingers under his biceps and burrowing in tight, which was equally acceptable in his book.
Her lashes lay against her cheeks, and he was struck by how privileged he was to have her in his home. Utterly aware of how hard the next days would be for her, and wishing all over that he could take away the burden.
He could have sat there staring for hours. Instead, he woke her gently, sliding from under the blanket and easing away as she made it to her feet and blinked hard.
Two minutes later she was safely behind her door, soft movements of her getting ready for bed enough to make him turn on his heel and head back to the living room to see if his father was still there.
