"Oh, sweetheart." Nate held her close, his chin resting on her glossy dark hair.
Her heartbreaking sobs subsided after a moment and she wiped her eyes on Nate's shirt, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Can you read us something else, Uncle Nate?" Tallie asked.
"Like what?"
"Mom's favorite Christmas story was The Polar Express," Claire said. "Maybe that one."
Nate seemed relieved to have something concrete to do besides holding a distressed little girl. "All right. One more story and then bed, okay?"
The girls agreed. This time, both of them sat snuggled in their quilts beside him, leaving Emery alone. That was as it should be, she thought. They were creating their own traditions, making their own version of family.
"All right," he said when he finished the last page. "Now time for bed. Santa can't show up until you're both asleep."
Since the girls had been emphatic more than once to her that they knew the whole Santa story, Emery was surprised at their ready compliance. She supposed there was something about Christmas Eve that allowed even doubters to put aside their skepticism for one night and believe in a little magic.
"I'm super sleepy," Tallie claimed.
"Me, too," Claire said, stifling a yawn that certainly looked genuine.
"Up you go," Nate said. "I'll come tuck you in."
"Can Emery come, too?"
He sent a swift look in her direction and she saw uncertainty flash there. She was about to let him off the hook by telling the girls she needed to sleep and should be heading back to her cabin, but Nate surprised her by nodding.
"Sure," he said. "If she doesn't mind."
"I don't mind," she said.
She helped Claire gather her quilt and carry the trailing ends up the stairs while Nate did the same for Tallie.
A few moments later, both girls were settled in their beds, their comforters replaced by the brand-new quilts that seemed somehow to fit perfectly in their bedrooms, as if they had always been there.
Emery kissed Tallie's cheek, touched to see the girl's fingers tracing the different textured fabric of the butterflies dancing across the quilt. Ridged corduroy from a pair of her father's slacks, denim from a work shirt, a deep purple satin poly blend from one of Suzi's blouses.
All the hours of work and the aching muscles were a distant memory, lost in the joy of seeing both girls find comfort in her creations.
"Sleep well, sweetheart," Emery said.
"Merry Christmas, Emery." She was quiet for a moment, then smiled sleepily. "It's a night for angels, isn't it?"
Tears burned behind her eyes, but Emery smiled. "I think so, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."
Part of her had that same wild wish that she had never come to Hope Springs, never had the chance to fall in love with these grieving girls. But she couldn't regret it when they had taught her so many lessons.
When she and Nate returned downstairs, he seemed a little distant and distracted. Probably wishing she would just go home and leave him alone, she thought. She opened her mouth to tell him she needed to do just that but he surprised her once more.
"I have no right to ask you any more favors since you've already done so much," he began.
"But?"
He sighed. "But I could use help with one more thing, if I haven't presumed entirely too much."
"How can I help?"
"I've never done the whole Christmas Eve thing. Putting out the stockings and the presents under the tree and everything. I'm pretty sure I'll screw it up on my own and leave everything a big jumbled mess."
She found his request almost unbearably sweet. "Of course. Although since I…don't have children, I'm not the world's biggest expert in that particular arena, either."
"But you know what looks good. You did such a great job decorating the house and then wrapping everything so nicely, I hate to just throw all the gifts under the tree. The only problem is, we're going to have to wait a few moments until they're asleep."
"Why don't I stay here with the girls while they fall asleep and you can go down to the cabin for the gifts? By the time you bring them all back, the girls should be asleep."
"Brilliant idea." He smiled a little. "See how much I needed your help?"
He tossed another log on the fire while Emery sank onto the sofa gratefully as her stiff muscles reminded her of the day's exertions.
When she heard him leave a moment later, she leaned back against the sofa cushion, watching the Christmas tree lights twinkle against the dark window and sorting through the emotions of the evening.
She had been dreading Christmas so much this year, the first holiday without her mother, the anniversary of Gracie's death.
How could she ever have guessed this would turn out to be the most perfect ever? From sewing the quilts to making cookies with the girls to decorating the house. She had loved all of it.
She closed her eyes, but the lights still seemed to glisten behind her eyelids. She would only rest for a moment, she told herself as exhaustion crept over her.
Just until he returned…
Chapter Thirteen
Nate carefully loaded the last box of gifts into the cargo space of the SUV, closed the hatch, then paused for a moment to gaze up at the night. This Christmas Eve was a cold one, with no cloud cover to hold in any warmth. The night was clear and beautiful, with a vast glitter of stars overhead.
He couldn't help thinking about his past few Christmas Eves in the desert. Two years ago his team had been in southern Iraq and last year he'd been in the frigid mountains of Afghanistan.
This one was much better than any in recent memory, he was forced to admit. Between the tamales and the miracle of the tiny foal and that very tender moment when the girls opened their quilts, he felt more connected to life and the future than he had in a long, long time.
For the first time since he came back to Idaho, he was feeling good about what might come next. A year from now, he would be much more prepared for the holidays and everything the girls might expect from them.
The only problem was, this year was going to be a hard act to follow, especially without Emery.
The thought of her leaving seemed to take a lot of luster from the stars overhead. He pushed it away, just as he used to make himself ignore the frustrations and fears of the battlefield so he could focus on what needed to be done.
There would be time to miss Emery later. Right now, he needed to take care of business, which meant hauling the girls' Christmas booty up to the house.
When he drove back to the house, he let himself in the front door quietly, with a careful look up the stairs to make sure the girls weren't peeking down from the landing.
"So do you think the coast is clear yet?" Nate whispered as he entered the great room.
When no one answered, he was grimly aware of a sharp clutch of panic. But reason intruded. She couldn't have left already, not when he had asked for her help. That wasn't in her nature. His gaze swept the room and he exhaled with relief when he saw her stretched out on the same sofa she had slept on the night of the storm. She lay on her side, her blond hair drifting over her shoulders and her folded hands tucked under her cheek like a child's.
She was serenely lovely in sleep, her darker lashes fanning her cheekbones and those classical features relaxed. He wanted to push away a strand of hair from her cheek, but decided not to wake her.
How late into the night had she worked to finish the quilts for the girls? When he thought of her hunched over a sewing machine, pouring such care and compassion into the work for two girls she barely knew, he could hardly breathe around the ache in his chest.
Something soft and tender swelled inside him as he watched her sleep and for one crazy moment, he wanted to jerk her off the couch and send her away.
That panic returned a thousandfold, especially when he realized he would rather take on a hundred enemy fighters on his own from a vulnerable position in a box canyon than have to face these fragile, terrifying emot
ions that shimmered through him.
She gave a tiny little sigh and snuggled deeper into the cushions. Though he was wary about even coming closer to her, he lifted one of the knit throws from the other sofa and spread it over her, tucking in the sides to keep out the draft.
In her sleep, the corners of her mouth tilted up slightly, but she didn't open her eyes.
He couldn't stand here all night, watching her sleep. Beyond the vaguely creepy, covert surveillance factor, it was Christmas Eve and he still had parental responsibilities.
He forced himself to move away from her and with all the stealth in his commando bag of tricks, he carefully climbed the stairs, avoiding any creaky steps. What would the other members of his team think if they knew he was using all his mad Ranger skills to check on a couple of girls who should be sleeping?
Did he care? Not really. The realization took him by surprise and he paused outside Tallie's room to let it soak in.
This might not be how he anticipated his life turning out. Fate could sometimes be a heartless bitch. Suzi and John certainly never expected to die in a plane crash before their youngest kid was even double digits. Emery never expected to lose her baby on Christmas Eve at the same time her bastard of a husband dumped all over her.
Life happened. Coming home to Idaho and becoming an instant father figure to two girls who needed him might not have been in the plan, but it wasn't bad, either. He needed to man up and stop acting like some kind of martyr who had sacrificed everything he wanted to take care of his sister's kids.
He was getting plenty back from the deal. He had the ranch and the girls and neighbors who cared about them, whether he wanted them to or not.
Not a bad trade at all.
And Emery. Where did she fit in?
He pushed that puzzle aside again while he checked Claire first and then Tallie. Unless they were putting on award-winning performances, both girls appeared sound asleep. He even called their names softly, but neither of them so much as stirred.
Satisfied they were genuinely asleep, he returned downstairs for the work ahead to find that Emery hadn't moved on the couch, either.
Apparently he was on his own for the whole Santa Claus thing.
Though he tried to be as quiet as possible, something must have awakened her. When he returned with the last armload of gifts from the SUV, he found her sitting up on the sofa, doing the finger-swipe thing over her eyes.
"Hey," she said, her voice low and rough from sleep. "Sorry. I didn't mean to conk out on you."
"No problem. If you're too tired for more holiday fun, don't worry about it. I can give you a lift back to your cabin and wrap things up here on my own."
"I'm fine." She yawned as she stood up. "Really, I'm fine. A little nap was all I needed and now I've got my second wind."
He wasn't convinced, but she proved her words by setting to work immediately.
She took the girls' stockings down from the mantel and filled them first and then began arranging the gifts under the tree.
Finally, she stepped back with a satisfied sigh. "It's perfect. Don't you think?"
"Absolutely," he answered, wondering if she sensed he was looking only at her, not at the room.
"The girls are going to have a wonderful Christmas morning. I only wish I could see their faces."
"Why can't you?"
Surprise and then discomfort flitted across her features. "I'm sorry. That wasn't a hint. I don't belong there, Nate. You've been kind enough to include me in some of your holiday celebrations, mostly because the girls insisted, but Christmas morning should be just for you and the girls. This is your chance to start some new traditions of your own with them."
He wanted to argue, but some part of him knew she was right. She would be gone in a few days, as difficult as that was for him to face. He and Tallie and Claire had to make their own way.
"Thank you, though, for letting me have a small part in your holiday," she said, her voice subdued. "If you want the truth, I've been dreading Christmas. Especially tonight. Christmas Eve, the anniversary of…the accident. This morning I was thinking I just wanted to sleep the day away and wake up about noon tomorrow. But I'm so glad I didn't. Tonight with the girls and with…with you has been wonderful. I'll never forget it."
He gazed at her in the multicolored light from the Christmas tree. Her sweep of blond hair reflected sparkles of red and gold and purple. All those tender emotions he had fought so hard against before returned stronger than ever and he couldn't help himself. He stepped forward and lowered his mouth to hers.
She sighed his name as he kissed her and her arms slid around his neck.
Now. Now the night felt perfect. Their kiss was slow and easy, like sinking into a soft bed at the end of a hard day.
Her mouth made him crazy. He thought he could spend forever just exploring every inch of those lips. He pulled her closer while the fire hummed and sparked behind them.
He wanted Emery Kendall more than any Christmas present he had ever wanted in his life put together. More than the official NFL leather football he'd begged and begged for when he was nine, more than the Element Fiberlight skateboard with the Independent trucks and the Bones wheels, more than the three-hundred-dollar twenty-year-old junker pickup truck he had bought himself for Christmas when he was seventeen.
He only wanted Emery.
But like the Ford Mustang he had really wanted that long-ago Christmas instead of a beat-up pickup truck, he suddenly realized he couldn't have this, couldn't have her.
What did he have to offer a woman like Emery Kendall except a faltering ranch and a couple of troubled, grieving little girls?
She was an elegant, sophisticated, country-club type with her own design company, while he had barely graduated high school and just walked away from the only profession he had ever been good at.
Oh, she was attracted to him. A man could sense when a woman shivered at his touch, when she leaned into his kiss for more.
He could probably seduce her right here, right now—or better yet, take her up to his bedroom to spend Christmas Eve in her arms.
But in the morning, he didn't doubt they would both regret it. She was leaving in a few days, returning to her life in Virginia, and he couldn't afford to let this crazy tenderness inside him lead him to do or say something stupid that he couldn't take back.
He eased away from her, though it was just about the toughest thing he had ever had to do, and forced himself to rise from the sofa.
"You need some sleep. It's late and you have to be exhausted."
She blinked, her eyes a little dazed. "Not really."
He was fiercely tempted to take up the soft invitation in her eyes, but he couldn't do that to either of them.
"You will be if you don't get some sleep. Come on. I'll walk you back to your cabin."
For a moment, she looked as disoriented as if he had just hauled her over his shoulder, packed her outside and tossed her off the porch into the snow. But after a moment she nodded slowly, her expression veiled. "You're right. It's been a big day."
She said nothing more while she pulled her coat and scarf out of the closet and slipped them on.
"I can drive you if you're too cold to walk."
After a swift look, she focused again on knotting her scarf. "I'm fine walking. You don't need to come with me."
In answer, he only put on his coat and held the door open for her. The temperature had dropped a few more degrees in the short time since he had brought the presents into the house, but he barely felt the cold. He was aroused and frustrated and wondering if he had just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.
They walked the short distance to her cabin, their boots crunching in the snow and their breath clouding out ahead of them.
"Thank you again for all your help," he said when they reached her cabin door.
She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're welcome. I hope you and the girls have a wonderful day tomorrow."
"Tod
ay, you mean. It's past midnight. Merry Christmas."
She smiled a little, her gloved hands gripping the doorknob. "Same to you."
He wanted to kiss her again. To press her back against that door and then to push them both through it and shut out the world and all the differences between them. Instead, he forced himself to smile as if his heart wasn't dented and sore.
"Good night," he said, then turned and headed back through the snow toward the house.
* * *
She had to leave. After a sleepless night, Emery came to the bleak conclusion that staying at Hope Springs was only postponing her inevitable pain.
She rolled onto her back, gazing up at the now-familiar log beams overhead. That stunning, tender kiss the night before had only reinforced what she had begun to suspect days ago.
She was in love with Nate.
This wasn't merely infatuation or sexual attraction, though there was plenty of that zinging between them.
This was the real thing.
She was in love with Nate Cavazos, army Ranger, reluctant rancher, brand-new parent. She loved his strength and his awkward gentleness with his nieces and the deep core of honor and integrity that brought him back to his hometown to repay his debt to his sister by raising her children.
She was crazy about the man.
How could she have been so very foolish? Nate wasn't interested in a relationship. If he were, he wouldn't have pushed her away last night when it had to have been obvious to him how very much she wanted to stay.
He had been pushing her away since she arrived. She could see that now. If he'd had his way, he would have barred the proverbial gate to her the very first night she showed up in the storm.
Maybe it would have been better all the way around if she had just turned around that night and headed for Jackson, as he had tried to convince her to do. At least then she could have spared herself the pain she knew waited for her back in her real life.
No. She couldn't regret it. Even though she feared her heart might never recover from this week in eastern Idaho, that part of it would always remain here, she couldn't be sorry. The time with Tallie and Claire had been priceless and she had to hope that her efforts might have helped ease their grief in some small way.
A Cold Creek Holiday Page 16
