by Dana Volney
She sniffled. They were not even halfway down the block, and the cold had already made quick work of a jacket that was probably intended only for forty degrees and above. She was not going to make it two and a half more blocks. She could make an excuse to leave, but then she’d just worry all night. She certainly wasn’t staying with him because she liked the prickly sensation covering her skin every time she was around him.
Clip-clopping noises drew louder behind her. She turned to see a horse-drawn carriage coming toward them in the dark night. Fisher stepped into the street and raised his hand, catching the attention of the older man clutching the reins with thick leather gloves.
Fisher shoved his hands in his pockets. “We may as well.” He shrugged and stepped closer to the driver as the two giant horses halted. “Hey, Richard. Out for a night ride?”
“I take the girls out to give people rides downtown during the holidays.” Richard was bundled up, complete with a scarf over most of his face. “They get a kick out of it. So do I.”
“We need to go up a couple blocks to Combat Children’s Hunger. Mind giving us a ride?”
“Sure thing, Fisher. Hop in.”
“Thanks.” He swiveled her way, offering a hand for the tiny steps, glancing down at her heels. Right. Not the safest attire to climb in. She grasped his hand tightly, a chill zooming down her spine as his fingers wrapped around the edges of her palm and supported her all the way up. There were blankets on the bench seat, thank goodness. She sat and spread the blankets out on her lap, leaving half for Fisher. He surely had to be cold, and being out in this weather wasn’t good for him or his lungs. His thigh grazed hers as he sat. Then settled. They were leg to leg, and she didn’t move a muscle.
The horses took off with a start, and she threw her hands out for balance, grabbing the first thing her palm landed on. Fisher’s leg. His head tilted toward her, and his gaze dropped to her hand as she slowly removed it, tucking it under the blanket. She rubbed her lips together and looked anywhere but at him. This was not the time to blush. Or maybe it was. Her cheeks were already touched by the cold.
A shiver rose from her shoulders, but it didn’t completely have to do with the temperature. They were alone. In a horse-drawn carriage on a beautiful, albeit freezing, winter night. The setting was romance personified. Too bad it was going to be wasted on them.
• • •
He’d thought a ride would be a faster way to get to CCH and be done with the night. That was before they were sitting in a fancy damn wagon under a blanket, and—he tilted his head to the sky—little snowflakes were started to fall. Yeah, this had been a great idea.
He shifted his gaze to Silver. She never would’ve made it in that thin coat and dress. “Warming up?”
“A little.” She bit into her bottom lip, not looking directly into his eyes.
Richard went past the street he should’ve turned on. Great, he’d decided to take the scenic route. Fisher pushed his back into his seat and crossed his arms.
“This is the first time I’ve ever ridden in a carriage or been this close to horses.”
“Aren’t you from here?” His brow arched as he inhaled, but the cold stopped a full breath. He concentrated on getting enough oxygen and not freaking out. Easy. Slow breaths. There were down sides to his heart condition, the stress on his breathing being the most notable. And annoying.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I grew up around animals.”
“What did you grow up around?”
“More socialite activities than outdoor ones. You?”
“My dad was a ranch foreman. I think I took my first steps to get to a horse.” He chuckled, picturing riding next to his dad for countless hours and years. When was the last time I rode?
“I’ve always wanted to …” Her words trailed off as she watched the horses move along the deserted road.
“I’m still in good with a couple of ranch owners. I could arrange a ride when the weather is nicer.” His face fell at the calculation of time between now and good weather in Wyoming. “Or just on a day that’s over forty degrees and sunny.” He probably had years left, but it could only be months, and he wanted to ride a horse again before his health really started to decline and he didn’t have the strength to pull himself into the saddle. But now was not the time to think of what might be. He’d made his choice, and his worrying would change nothing.
“You’d do that?” She tilted up her chin, her big blue eyes searching his.
Hope. That’s what Silver reminded him of—someone who was constantly hopeful. How nice it would be to have that type of worldview.
“Of course.” The way she looked at him, so caring, he’d do anything to make her happy. “It’d be nice to ride again. There are some great trails if we go up on the mountain.”
“I’m going to have to mentally psych myself up to get this checked off my bucket list.” A smile filled her round face. “Horses can smell fear, right?”
“They’re pretty good judges of character. But I like to think I am, too, and you’ll be just fine.”
“I have been in some dicey situations in third-world countries, and I don’t remember being as nervous as this about doing anything.”
“Relax, we aren’t riding them in five minutes.”
She nodded and bit her lip again. “Right.” She chuckled. “I’m a planner.”
“You don’t say.” He gave her fake surprised eyes to make sure his sarcasm was clear.
“Oh, like you aren’t?”
“Hey, we are in a horse-drawn carriage after a party in fancy duds. I make things happen.”
“Duly noted.” She rubbed her hands together under the blankets.
“Where are your gloves?”
“I have, like, ten pairs and can never seem to remember them.”
“Let me see.” He uncrossed his arms, cupped her hands in his, and rubbed. It wasn’t just for her benefit—he was freezing, too. Warmth started at his palm and crept up his arms and down his chest, like someone was slowly soaking him in hot candle wax.
“Thanks, that takes the edge off.” She pulled her hands back, and a long scar on her right hand caught his attention. He’d seen it before, when they were serving food, but up close it looked, and felt, like a deeper wound than he’d originally assessed.
“What happened?” He nodded to her hand.
“A stupid accident.” She shrugged and turned in her seat to face the front, quickly slipping her hands back under the blanket.
“Looks painful.”
“It was.” A small frown tugged her lips down momentarily.
“Then I guess it’s good you’re tough.”
“You think so?”
“Good judge of character, remember?”
She side-eyed him and rubbed her lips together. “Sometimes you just have to buck up and deal with what life dishes out.”
“Words easily said when things are good.”
Her head snapped to face him. “Who said things are good?” Her brows rose.
“Are you going to die right now?”
“Chances are slim.”
“Do you have a roof over your head?”
“I will soon.” She winked.
“Are you starving?”
“Definitely not.”
“Do you know you’re going to get past the problem?”
She was silent.
And then still silent. He was about to put his arm around her or something to offer comfort, but she spoke before he moved.
“I’m headed that way.” Her lashes fluttered as she sucked in a deep breath. “I think I’m about to make some big changes in my life.”
“There’s no time like the present.”
Richard pulled back on the reins, and the horses stopped in front of CCH, just in time to prevent Fisher from telling Silver about his own permanent problem. She was a doctor. She’d understand better than most. He hadn’t even realized they were so close to CCH. The world had a habit of falling away when Silver was a
round.
He hopped out of the carriage and gripped her hand as she stepped down. A smile tugged at his lips. Their ride was probably one of the most ambiguously honest conversations he’d had in a long time. Silver was good company. Good company, indeed.
chapter FIVE
“I haven’t been to one of these in forever.” Silver inhaled the scent of the evergreen trees covered in the freshly fallen snow.
“A tree lighting?” Fisher was in step beside her. She could smell his cologne through the frosty air trying to numb the insides of her nose with every breath. His scent was sleek and sexy and burned in her memory forever.
“Yup.” The sun had nearly set, and the park was lit with the occasional streetlight and multicolored bulbs guiding the way to the seating area. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky despite the eighty percent chance of snow she’d heard on the radio on her way home. “We used to come every year when I was little. It feels like the start of the holiday season when I see the park lit up, hear the choir singing, and get hot cocoa.” She hugged the Thermos she’d filled with her grandma’s recipe, complete with Bailey’s, Kahlua, three different types of chocolate, and a tap of whiskey because, according to Grandma Betty, the act of hot chocolate was worthless unless it made you tipsy, and tipsy when hot chocolate was involved was never a crime.
Silver had debated whether to bring it, because, really, he shouldn’t drink with any sort of organ condition, but she’d felt nostalgic this afternoon while taste-testing her batch. Fisher didn’t have to have any, but she sure as crap was going to have more. Being home this last year had been rough, but she might finally be ready to accept the hand life had dealt her and move on. Be happy. She had no idea what that path was. But, still, new things were on her horizon.
“How about here?” Fisher pointed to the seats in the back row and pressed his palm to her back to escort her.
A comforting heat sank deep into her gut. Ever since they’d met, life seemed a little easier. And she hadn’t lied to him directly any more, except for her name and occupation and what she was really doing a week ago at CCH. There’d just not been a good opportunity to come clean yet.
“How long has it been since you’ve been to one?” He sat on the very outside seat, and she next to him, thankful her coat covered her butt. The chairs were plastic, but still.
They had a great view of the choir that would sing the traditional holiday melody and the trees that would light up one by one in concert with the melody.
“Years. I don’t think I’ve seen one since I started college, and then with my internships and overseas work …” She smoothed out the king-sized blanket she’d grabbed just in case the snow started to fall.
“Which country in Africa did you say before?”
“Tanzania. For a year.” Until she’d made a mistake by accidentally slicing into her own hand. If she hadn’t gone to school with the head surgeon at the nearby military base, she probably would’ve lost the use of it completely.
“Wyoming is great and all, but why did you come back?” His eyes twinkled back at her in the glow of the holiday lights; her breath caught in anticipation as his gaze roamed over her face. “You seem better suited to giving orders and saving lives instead of sitting behind a desk.”
Why didn’t I just tell the truth that first day? She could tell herself that this sinking feeling was because she thought he was handsome and nice and she wouldn’t mind pressing her lips against his, but she knew. It was lying. The not-complete-truth telling. Then she’d lied again on his forms; she’d told Janae that she’d take care of his paperwork, but she hadn’t even sent it to him. And she’d purposely dodged people at the fundraiser so they wouldn’t ask her about the transplant portion of her work while she was around Fisher.
She couldn’t bring herself to let this man give up. He didn’t really want to die—he just hadn’t realized it yet. She’d get him there. The Christmas festivities would help, and maybe he’d change his mind on his own. Then she could come clean. Tell him who she was, what her job truly involved, and that it was all okay because his paperwork hadn’t been filed yet.
No one should give up on life.
Least of all a man who had so much to live for.
A man she hoped might want to live for her.
She sucked in the cold air a little too hard and blinked as she coughed. She was losing her mind. There was no way she should be thinking like this. Too many variables were in play that made a relationship between them unknown. Would he live even if he were lucky enough to get a heart? Did she want to stay in Casper or take a job traveling, finding a way to help others without a scalpel? She was leaning more toward teaching these days—showing people how to help others was starting to sound like a fulfilling next step.
“I was doing what I always dreamed of.” She started to unscrew the lid of the Thermos. Suddenly she needed the spiked hot chocolate. “I loved the mechanics of the hea—” She stopped herself dead cold from finishing that sentence. She’d never said that she was well versed in surgery, including the heart procedure he needed. Just that she was a doctor. “Healing ailments to give people a better life,” she correctly quickly.
He leaned in, his mouth slightly open to ask a question, when the sound system cut in. “Welcome, Casper, to the annual tree-lighting ceremony of Central Park.” Claps and shouts of glee came from the crowd as the announcer introduced the choir from the high school and thanked the sponsors who’d made the ceremony possible.
Silver poured a couple sips of hot chocolate into the lid and offered it to Fisher, raising her eyebrows in question. He shook his head, like she’d expected him to, and she sat back a little farther into her chair. Heat rushed down her throat with each sip. The smell of rich cocoa brought her back to Christmastime in the Morgenstern household—Mother directing the people she’d hired to bring in an outrageously big tree, adorn the outside of their mansion with festive lights, and hang wreaths on every available surface.
The choir started to sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” in joyful harmony as the three aspens behind the choir racks lit up in red, green, and yellow.
Nostalgia settled on top of Silver’s shoulders, and she slumped closer to Fisher. The strength of his body was hard against her insulated, puffy coat. Neither of them moved an inch the rest of the ceremony.
By the time it was over, the entire park was lit up like the North Pole, and neither of them made a move to leave. There was no hurry. She could sit here all night.
In fact, she didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant everything moved forward. Fisher would eventually find out she’d met him under false pretenses, and while she hoped they could laugh about it, she had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be smiling. Their relationship, or whatever had started, wasn’t going to end well, which was a shame. Then there was the little thing about her life and her future, letting her dream career go for good. She’d never had to try to find a purpose; she’d always known what she wanted to be when she grew up and had thrown herself completely into it.
Chilled air filled her lungs, and when she exhaled, she said good-bye. Good-bye to her past. She wasn’t going to waste any more of her life pining for something that was over and done. There was no use.
Now she had to figure out what she wanted to do next. Who she wanted to be.
She screwed the cap back on the Thermos and tucked it between their chairs. She searched her pockets for gloves, and then her purse. Rats. She’d forgotten them. Fisher grabbed her hand as she was about to set it in her lap under the blanket.
His hand dwarfed hers, yet his touch was tender. His thumb caressed the scarred, sensitive flesh that marred the top of her hand between her index finger and thumb and ran all the way down to her wrist bone—the original cut jagged and messy and the subsequent cuts precise from the surgeons who’d done their best to repair the damage.
“What actually happened?”
“A wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing.” She didn’t like to talk abou
t it. Ever.
“Ahhh.” His gaze searched hers, silently pleading with her to continue. “You can do better than that.”
She watched his gentle touch rub over her scar. She hadn’t even winced when he’d touched her hand. “I studied for years to become a surgeon.” Her quick smile faded just as swiftly. “It was all I ever wanted to do. Save people. And the body is so fascinating.” Hell, she’d purchased her own human anatomy doll with the babysitting money she’d saved by not going to the movies every weekend with her friends. She’d painted every single piece, learning about it in the process, and then assembled the hard plastic man only to take him apart through the years as her classes progressed.
When her head rose she was met with golden brown eyes that were warm. Inviting. Damn sexy.
“I studied hard, was at the top of my class, landed prestigious internships, and traveled abroad helping those in less fortunate countries. I lived my dream for a while.”
She could see it in his eyes. He knew there was a “but” coming. Obviously. The scar took up half of her hand.
“Slipping on a wet floor with a very sharp blade. That’s what caused this.” She pulled her palm from his. She was sharing, and he was caressing, and it was all adding up to make her chest tighten.
“You cut yourself?” His brows knitted together.
“Yup. I was getting ready for surgery, arranging the tools, and I stumbled, tried to brace myself but fell and never let go of the blade.” She’d slashed her own dreams in three seconds.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”
His honesty was nice. There really wasn’t much to say that other people hadn’t already said. And nothing, not any word, ever made her feel better.
“It’s just a fact at this point.” She hid her hand back under the blanket, squeezed her palm, and then relaxed.
“How long ago?”
“About a year.”
“That’s is why you came back?”
“My options were pretty limited after my second surgery, and I couldn’t hold a scalpel.” Actually, she could hold the metal instrument, she just didn’t trust herself. And since she couldn’t fully control the shaking and the cramping she experienced even when writing, no one else trusted her skills either.
