Her insides trembled at the way he was looking at her, as no one else ever had. As if she were everything he had ever wanted.
“Okay,” she whispered. She could barely think straight with him looking as if he wanted to eat her alive—yes, please—but she managed to answer with quite remarkable coherence, under the circumstances.
“I’ve got a bedroom. It has really nice bedding, too. I brought it from Europe.”
“Not a good idea.”
To her dismay, he sat up on the edge of the sofa, both legs back on the ground.
She deliberately misunderstood him. “Oh, believe me, it was. You should have seen what my grandmother left on the beds. Polyester sheets and those awful bumpy chenille coverlets.”
She gave a shiver that wasn’t completely feigned. Without his heat against her she was cold, suddenly, even though Grandma Pearl’s furnace worked perfectly well.
He studied her, and to her surprise, after a brief hesitation, his mouth quirked up a little on one side. That she could make him smile, even when the air was thick with tension—sexual and otherwise—filled her with effervescent little bubbles of happiness.
“I meant the two of us ripping up those particular sheets together. That’s not such a great idea.”
The finality in his voice was even more chilling than walking barefoot through that snow. There he went, pushing her away again.
“Is this about your hand? Because, I promise, it doesn’t matter. When you’re kissing me and touching me, I can only think about the parts you’re using, not anything that might be missing.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, that heat rekindled in his gaze. She thought for a moment he would kiss her again but then he sighed.
“I’m damaged, Gen. Not just the outside. The whole package.”
He rose to his feet, his expression one of regret and sadness and lingering hunger, and reached for the coat she had thrown on the floor.
“You’re not damaged to me,” she said, climbing to her feet, as well. “I think you’re…”
Perfect. Wonderful. The man I love.
“The best person I know,” she finally whispered.
It sounded stupid, but she didn’t know how else to tell him everything he was coming to mean to her.
“If that’s the case, you seriously need to widen your circle of acquaintances.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m shaking right now because I want you so much, but I’m not going to sleep with you, Gen.”
“Why not?”
She wouldn’t beg, even though she really, really wanted to.
“Neither one of us is in a good place for this.”
“The bedroom is right down the hall,” she pointed out.
“You know that’s not what I mean.” He frowned. “You’re vulnerable and upset because of what happened earlier tonight. I get that. But I can’t be the man you need. You deserve someone…better. Someone without all the garbage that comes with me.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
Okay, maybe she would beg.
That muscle in his jaw tightened again, and he
rubbed at his forehead just above the patch. “You say that now, but if we made love, you would regret it. I would hate that. I’m sorry, Gen. I can’t do this. Good night.”
Before she could argue, before she could even react, he was out the door.
After the door closed behind him with grim finality, she couldn’t seem to move. She sat on the edge of Grandma Pearl’s horrid sofa—which she now hated all over again. Her emotions were battered, numb, confused, as if she had just ridden out a tornado.
She loved Dylan Caine, and he had just made it painfully clear he wouldn’t let himself feel the same.
Once more, she wasn’t enough.
What was she supposed to do now?
She didn’t have any idea how she could just go on with her life, when everything had changed so monumentally.
How could she go back to A Warrior’s Hope in the morning and face him as if nothing had happened, as if her heart hadn’t just been stripped bare and turned inside out?
Even more unsettling, how could she go back to Paris now and throw herself into a new life and new career when everything she had suddenly discovered she wanted was right here?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She looked horrIble, and this time she couldn’t blame the pink tiles in Grandma Pearl’s bathroom.
Genevieve gazed into the mirror, gradually reaching the grim realization that no amount of clever makeup magic could fix the effects of a sleepless night. She had tried to go to bed after Dylan left but had ended up climbing back out, throwing on work clothes and stripping wallpaper in the second bedroom until the early hours of the morning.
She did her best, even though she still didn’t know how she would possibly face him. With any luck, she could persuade Eden she needed an assignment far, far away from him all day. Perhaps he would decide he’d rather serve jail time after all than be forced to spend more time with her.
So he didn’t want her. She could deal with it. Hadn’t she been trying to convince herself she was stronger than she’d always given herself credit for?
She sighed and returned her concealer to her makeup bag. After a little more magic, she decided she would do. Though the smudge of shadows remained under her eyes, nobody should be able to see that her heart was broken.
Finally ready, she shrugged into her coat and felt the weight of her phone in the pocket. Suddenly she remembered the call the night before that had ruined everything. She had never bothered to see who was calling. Probably her mother trying to make plans for another day of shopping, in her oblivious way.
She thought about ignoring it but at the last moment decided to check the caller ID.
She scrolled through the numbers and saw it read
Unknown. Whoever it was had left a message, though. She retrieved the voice mail. As she listened, her eyes grew wider and her heart started to pound. She jotted down the message and let her excitement push away everything else—for now.
None of her exhilaration had faded by the time she hurried into the recreation center. If anything, the phone call she made after that message had only ratcheted things up a notch. She was giddy with nerves and excitement—okay, and lack of sleep, too.
She suddenly had a little insight into the way the town’s Angel of Hope must feel, doing nice things for others. What a baffling concept—that when she was helping someone else, her own troubles and pain seemed more manageable. The sorrow was still there, simmering just under the surface, but she didn’t have time to wallow in it. Not when she had a new purpose.
That pesky heartache had a way of pushing itself back into the forefront, though, especially when she walked into the recreation center and immediately spotted Dylan walking in from the other direction.
Fresh hurt and rejection sliced at her, throbbing and raw. She drew in a breath, pushing them down again, and forced a smile.
“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Dylan said.
“The best mood.”
He looked a little taken aback. Had he expected her to come in all mopey and morose? If she hadn’t had that amazing phone call, she might have been.
“So did you get a ten-million-dollar offer on Pearl’s house?”
“No. Something even better.”
“Oh?”
She had to tell somebody before she exploded from
the excitement, and Dylan was the logical person. He had known her plans from the beginning. If not for his information leak about Fort Benning, she probably would never have been able to find what she needed so quickly.
She gave a quick look around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, then leaned in close.
“I heard from Jenna Baldwin.”
Instead of the reaction she’d hoped for, all she received from him was a blank look.
“You remember. Trey’s girlfriend. The schoolteacher from Fort Benning.”
“Ah.”
“She was so happy I emailed her with my number. You should have heard the joy bubbling out of her. She’s been trying to find him for months. And get this! She was able to get a last-minute flight and she’ll be here tomorrow afternoon!”
He didn’t respond for a long moment.
“Oh, Gen. What have you done?” he finally said. She frowned at the note of dismay in his voice.
“What do you mean, what have I done? This is the perfect outcome. She will come out here, he will see how very wrong he was to push her away and they’ll live happily ever after.”
“You are completely delusional.”
After he’d put her through the misery of the night before, he actually had the nerve to call her names, to pop the little bubble of happiness that was the only thing keeping her upright and functioning right now?
“And you’re the most cynical person I’ve ever met!” she retorted.
“Yeah, sorry if my life hasn’t been all caviar and walks down the Champs-Elysées.”
Five minutes ago, she had been so excited, filled with anticipation at doing something right for once. This was supposed to be her own little Christmas gift for a young man who desperately deserved to find some happiness. Now Dylan, Mr. You Don’t Need My Garbage, was spitting all over her joy.
“You think my life is so perfect?” She wanted to smack him, but instead she settled for curling her hands into fists and folding them across her chest. “I’m broke. I’ve got no friends. My own family thinks I’m out of control. I’m serving community-service hours with you, for heaven’s sake. Yeah, some rosy picture.”
“It could be a hell of a lot worse.”
“I know that. I’m not a complete idiot. What did I do that was so terrible? I thought I was doing something nice for two people who love each other. I even paid for half her airfare out of my emergency fund since the cost of the last-minute flight was out of a schoolteacher’s budget.”
“Oh, Gen.”
Something warm and soft flitted across his expression but quickly disappeared again, replaced by that stony mask that filled her with self-doubt.
“You’re right. It was a stupid idea. The whole thing will explode in my face and be one more screw-up in the loser column, along with maxing out my credit cards and being stupid enough to break the nose of the assistant district attorney.”
To her horror, her voice wobbled a little on the last word. She swallowed hard and forced back the angry tears that threatened. Or maybe they weren’t angry. Just more of the regular, garden-variety sad kind.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Trey knows you had nothing to do with it.”
“Nothing to do with what?”
She turned around to find the man in question had wheeled up to them without her hearing. Oh, Lord. What was she supposed to do now? She wanted to surprise him. If she told him Jenna was coming the next day, it would ruin everything, but she couldn’t think of a way to backtrack.
To her astonishment, Dylan—Mr. Cynical himself— came to her rescue.
“You caught me. The plan is to go out on the snowmobiles this morning. They’ve got a couple with hand controls and I was trying to arrange things so you could have the most powerful one, since I remembered you were talking about how much you liked to race motorcycles before you were injured.”
He had her six. Wasn’t that what she’d heard the veterans call it when somebody watched their back? Though he objected to what she wanted to do, he still stepped up to help her out.
Was it any wonder she was crazy in love with him?
“Wow,” Trey said, surprise in his voice. “Thanks, man. That’s really nice of you.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Dylan drawled. “I’m nothing if not nice.”
He gave Genevieve a hard sort of look. To her relief, Eden and Mack and the others joined them and the moment was gone.
by the end of the day, she was exhausted from trying not to burst with nerves.
Every time she came within range of Trey, she had to think of a hundred different distractions to keep from accidentally blurting out the news about Jenna.
Whenever she was near Dylan she had to do the same thing—mostly to keep from bursting into tears.
At least she didn’t have to add Charlotte into the mix. She hadn’t seen Dylan’s sister since ditching her at the bookstore the night before. Over lunch, she had heard Spence tell Chelsea that Charlotte had too much work at her candy store and probably wouldn’t make it until the dinner meal.
To her relief, Eden must have sensed some of her anxiety. Instead of sending her out while the families went cross-country skiing again, she assigned Gen to work inside the recreation center—away from everyone else, thank heavens. She was to finalize arrangements for the closing reception to be held Sunday night and work her decorating magic on wrapping some farewell gifts the rest of the staff had prepared for the guests and their families.
Everyone was leaving Monday. So much could happen between now and then. She really hoped the outcome of her actions would be a positive one.
She was just tying the ribbon on the last gift—another outfit for cute little Claudia Brooks’s doll Penelope—when Spencer Gregory walked into the room off the lobby she had commandeered.
He was so movie-star gorgeous, it always took her by surprise. Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory. During her time working for A Warrior’s Hope, she had come to realize he seemed completely unaware of it.
“Here you are. Looks like Eden has you working hard.”
She smiled. “She’s good at keeping me busy. I’m nearly done. Is everyone back?”
“Not yet. Mac called and said they were heading this way.”
“I need to wrap this up—so to speak—and hurry to hide everything.”
“We can stow them in my office.” “Okay. I’m almost done here.” “Need help?”
“No. I think I’ve got it.”
He leaned against the table to watch, and she had to wonder again why, as great-looking as he was, he didn’t make her stomach jump with nerves like Dylan did.
“So I was just looking through the paper work and realized you and Dylan have made a lot of headway on your community-service hours this week. A few more of these ten-hour days and you’ll have finished your obligation to the court and to us.”
“I guess that’s right.”
“I imagine you’ll be glad to see the last of this place.” She should be excited to move forward and devote her attention to finishing the work on Grandma Pearl’s house. Instead, she found herself unaccountably depressed. She had enjoyed her time here, more than she ever expected.
“It hasn’t been bad. Actually, I’ve really liked working here. Thank you for giving me the chance.”
He looked surprised. “You’re welcome.”
Though she had been in Paris, she knew Spence had come here in the midst of scandal, his name blackened by his wife’s untimely death, by his own prescriptiondrug addiction, by a drug-trafficking scandal that had turned out to be a frame-up.
His life had changed radically since coming back to his hometown.
“Can I just tell you,” she said on impulse, “I think it’s a wonderful thing you’ve done here. A Warrior’s Hope is a fantastic program. You’re changing lives here. This morning I watched Ricardo Torres on the snowmobile with his wife, and they were having a wonderful time together. The first day they arrived, it seemed as if she barely spoke to him. And it was so great yesterday to watch Trey and Joe racing each other down the mountain on their adapted ski seats. Really, the whole program is quite remarkable.”
“Thank you, Genevieve. I appreciate you saying that.” He gave a rueful smile. “I wish you could convince your family. Your father, especially. Did you know he’s trying to pull our conditional use permit?”
She stared. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“According to Mayor Beaumont, the Hope’s Crossing recreation center should be used only by the residents of Hope’s Cr
ossing, not by any Tom, Dick or Harry with a hard-luck story.”
Oh, sometimes her father made her crazy. “I’m sorry.
I’ll try to talk to him, but I should warn you, I don’t carry a lot of credit with my family right now.”
“I’m not too worried about the whole thing, especially since we’ve got Harry Lange on our side. He and Mary Ella are two of our biggest donors. Your dad might complain about our mission here and make noises about trying to shut us down but I doubt he’ll openly defy Harry.”
“No. He won’t.”
He smiled at her, and again she wondered why she didn’t feel the same tingle as she did when a certain wounded ranger gifted her with his rare smile.
“So Charlotte told me what happened at the bookclub party last night.”
She had almost forgotten Ruth Tatum, with everything else on her worry plate right now. Now that he mentioned it again, her face burned with remembered mortification. She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on tying the last bow on the present and arranging a little angel ornament in the folds.
“Not one of my happier moments.”
“For the record, Charlotte was very upset about it. She wanted to rush right over to your house to make sure you were all right, but then Dylan called her and yelled at her for letting Ruth mouth off about you like that.”
Oh. He did that? The little snowmen on the wrapping present seemed to blur and quiver as her eyes filled. She quickly blinked the tears away, wondering what his sister thought about her running to Dylan from the bookstore—and about Dylan leaping to her defense.
“None of it was Charlotte’s fault. I never blamed her.”
“She still felt terrible. Everyone did. You shouldn’t worry about Ruth Tatum, you know.”
She set the present on the pile with the others. “Yes. So everyone tells me.”
“Can I share a little wisdom learned from hard experience?”
“I… Of course.”
“I know what it is to be the object of people’s dislike. Trust me. I’ve had more than enough experience coping with misconceptions.”
Christmas In Snowflake Canyon Page 23
