by Tara Wyatt
Matt nodded. “So if you want a shot, you’ve gotta earn her trust. Show her you can take care of her.”
Luke wiped his mouth with his arm. “So you wanna talk about seeing Leah?”
They switched places again, and Matt resumed his punches. “Fuck, no.”
Chapter 3
December 4
“Was that Luke Grayson I saw you talking to at the end of last shift?” asked Shannon, Christie’s favorite ER nurse, as she slipped several folders into an accordion file.
Christie’s cheeks heated, and she briefly pressed a hand to her face before slipping it into the pocket of her lab coat. “Yeah, it was.”
Shannon sighed and fanned herself. “He is all kinds of delicious. And his brother, Matt? I can’t even.”
“Do you know them?” Christie couldn’t help herself. Even though she’d turned him down, she found herself wanting to know. And she shouldn’t. She’d turned him down to keep her distance. She’d done the right thing. She shouldn’t be asking about him.
“Honey, my family’s been in Cheyenne since 1858. I know everybody. I was a freshman at Central High when they were seniors. I don’t think there was a girl in school who didn’t have a crush on those boys.”
“What were they like?”
“Let me tell you, trouble never looked so good in a pair of blue jeans.”
Christie laughed, leaning her elbows on the counter of the nurse’s station. “Oh yeah?”
“They were good guys, don’t get me wrong. Lots of friends, played sports, got decent grades. But they also stirred up more than their share of trouble. Pranks, making out with girls, a little partying. That sort of thing. When they were seniors, they nearly got expelled for stealing.”
Christie’s eyes widened. “What did they steal?”
Shannon laughed, shaking her head as she remembered. “Luke, Matt, and a few other boys, including their cousin Dean, who was in my grade—I swear, yummy runs in their family—stole a big-ass pig statue from in front of Norman’s Barbeque and left it in the middle of the football field.”
Christie laughed again, trying to reconcile the story with the responsible father she’d met the other day. “I know Luke’s a carpenter. What does Matt do?”
“He’s a Sergeant with the Laramie County Sheriff. For now. He’s headed for Seattle next month.”
“Luke mentioned that.”
“Oh, did he now? Why, Dr. Harmon, are you holding out on me? Did you see him again?” Shannon opened a container she’d retrieved from behind the desk and pulled out two fresh, mouthwateringly delicious looking sugar cookies shaped like snowflakes. “And to think I was going to share my cookies with you.”
Christie snatched a cookie from Shannon and bit into it, the butter and sugar melting on her tongue, sweetness trickling through her as she swallowed. “I ran into him at Home Depot yesterday.”
“Uh huh,” mumbled Shannon around a mouthful of cookie.
“And he offered to help me out with some small repairs around my place.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Shannon’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she quirked an eyebrow.
“Ha, no.” But she was really starting to wish it were. She’d been so anxious in the moment that she’d blurted out the rejection, but maybe it had been a mistake. A sudden flare of anger burned through her, not at Luke, and not even at herself, but at her ex-boyfriend Brian , for turning her into this timid, untrusting, guarded woman who wouldn’t take a chance on a good thing when it was right in front of her. “What happened with Ethan’s mom? Luke told me he was divorced.”
Shannon shook her head slowly. “He sure is. From what I know, he and Angela had been dating for about a year when she got pregnant. They got married pretty quick, and a couple years later, she took off.”
“What kind of woman leaves her child?” Christie frowned, trying and failing to understand how someone could do that.
“The same kind of woman who thinks she can do better than Luke Grayson.”
Another concept Christie was trying and failing to understand. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was kind. He exuded a warmth that made her want to curl into him, to wrap herself around him and then untangle from him just so she could sink into that warmth all over again.
Well, shit.
Christie shrugged around the sinking sensation that maybe she’d made a huge mistake. God, she hated how little she trusted her judgment these days. “Anyway. That’s all that happened. Just the repairs.”
Shannon pointed her cookie at her, eyebrow once again quirked. “Liar. But I won’t force it out of you. I’m also sorely tempted to make some dirty jokes about carpenters, wood, and getting nailed, but I’ll restrain myself.”
“Dr. Harmon, please report to radiology. Dr. Harmon to radiology.” The metallic voice rang through the overhead speaker system.
“That’s my cue.” Christie popped the last bite of cookie into her mouth and adjusted her stethoscope around her neck as she headed off down the hall.
* * *
December 5
Luke wrapped his fingers around the paper cup filled with hot chocolate, absorbing the heat. Frost lined the windowpanes of the Paramount Café, and a gust of icy air blew in every time a customer entered, seeking out the cozy warmth of the coffee shop. Now that the sun was setting, the temperature was dropping rapidly, inching closer and closer to zero. Crowds lined the streets outside the café, lawn chairs, sleeping bags and blankets in tow, a warm, anticipatory buzz filling the freezing air as they waited for the parade to start. Burl Ives wished everyone a “Holly Jolly Christmas” through the café’s sound system, and a melancholy ache tugged at Luke’s chest, which was ridiculous. He’d been shot down by women before.
So why did this hurt so much?
A part of him wanted to follow Matt’s advice, find Christie and convince her that she’d made a mistake. The other part of him—the part with a brain—knew it was best if he kept his distance.
“Dad? Don’t you think?” Ethan peered up at him, his own hot chocolate clutched in his hands.
Luke raised his eyebrows and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry, I was zoned out. What do I think about what?”
Ethan’s eyebrows knit together, and his eyes flicked between Luke and the window. “I was telling you why Minecraft is cooler than ROBLOX.” He stuck his wrist out to check his Avengers watch. “Dad! The parade starts in seven minutes. If we don’t go, like, now, we won’t get spots.” Without waiting for an answer, Ethan hopped down off his chair and pushed his arms into his coat, heading for the door, his eyes glued to the window.
Luke laid a hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me, but where do you think you’re going without putting your hat and mittens on? It’ll be pretty hard to play Minecraft when all your fingers freeze off.”
Ethan rolled his eyes—oh, God, he was only eight and he was already rolling his eyes—but handed his hot chocolate to Luke to hold while he tugged on his hat and mittens. As they pushed out into the quickly darkening street, cold air whipped around them, and although Luke wanted to tuck Ethan’s hand in his, he didn’t. Ethan would just pull it away and give him a withering look while informing him that only babies held hands with their parents. Which was why he was so surprised when Ethan grabbed his hand and began tugging him through the growing crowd gathered along Capitol Avenue.
“You see a good spot?” he asked, allowing himself to be led though the happy throngs of people, the scent of apple cider, cinnamon, and pine filling the air. The lighting displays decorating the storefronts shone merrily, imbuing the early evening with a warm, festive glow. Ethan nodded enthusiastically, craning his neck and continuing to weave his way through the groups of people milling about. They reached the corner of Capitol and West 17th, and Ethan stopped, pulling up against the barrier separating the road from the sidewalk, the large Wells Fargo building directly behind them.
And then he saw her. He couldn’t miss her, seeing as Ethan had brought them to a stop right
beside Christie.
“What are you doing?” He bent and whispered in Ethan’s ear, keeping his back to Christie. He didn’t know what to say to her. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have noticed them yet.
“I’m wingmanning. You’re welcome.” His eyes shone with mirthful mischief, and then he leaned into Luke, pushing him ever so slightly in Christie’s direction. Luke cringed as he felt his shoulder graze against her.
“Luke?” Her soft, Southern lilt washed over him, and somehow hearing her voice made the ache in his chest even more pronounced.
“Hi, Christie. Sorry about that.” He tipped his head down toward where their arms had bumped.
She shrugged, smiling. “No harm done. Listen, about the other day . . .” She trailed off as the parade began and the high school’s marching band approached, a loud, brassy version of “Jingle Bells” drowning everything else out, which was just fine with him. He didn’t want to talk about the other day.
He shook his head after the band had passed. “It’s okay. No explanation necessary.”
She nodded, chewing her bottom lip, and an awkward silence filled the mere inches separating them. A line of classic cars decked out in flashing Christmas lights cruised down the street in front of them. If he hadn’t come to the parade for Ethan, he would’ve excused himself, trying to scrape together some dignity. Because even though she’d rejected him, he was keenly aware of her body beside his, of the sweet, feminine scent drifting up from her. The twinkling lights of a passing float sparkled against her hair, shining like liquid gold spilling out from under her knit ski hat.
“I think maybe an explanation is necessary.” She looked up at him, her bottom lip caught once again between her teeth.
“Really, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I was rude. And I want you to know something.” She angled her body to face him, and laid a hand on his arm. “It’s not that I wouldn’t like to have dinner with you. I actually really would, although I realize that ship might’ve sailed. The thing is, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for me to get involved with a guy right now.”
His heart beat a furious tempo against his ribs, almost as though it were trying to escape and leap into her hands.
Yep. He was going for it. He faced her full on, looking down into her lovely face, filled with sweet concern and a touch of that hollowness around the eyes.
“You’re in luck,” he said, smiling at her.
“How so?”
“I’m not a guy. I’m a man.” He dipped his head slightly. “Given the chance, I’d love to show you the difference.”
Her eyes widened and she swallowed visibly. Her lips parted and she took a breath, the air puffing white around her. Proud satisfaction shot through him, because he knew he’d gotten through to her. And besides, it was true. He was a man, not a guy. He was a father who owned his own home and ran his own business. He had duties and responsibilities, and he was damn good at meeting them. He liked meeting them.
“Besides, one dinner is hardly getting involved.” He smiled at her again, trying to read the expression on her face in the shifting shadows cast by the parade’s lights. And yet he knew the reason he’d asked her out was because he wanted to get involved. Involved beyond his usual casual little flings that had everything to do with sex and nothing to do with Ethan or a future or love.
Whoa. Slow down there, cowboy.
A fire truck from the Laramie County Fire Department rolled down the street, firefighters waving and tossing candy canes to kids in the crowd, followed by the library’s bookmobile, decorated with a massive, twinkling wreath across its grill.
“Dr. Harmon, would you like to come to the tree-lighting ceremony with us?” Ethan poked his head around Luke, looking positively angelic. Christie’s eyes slid from Luke to Ethan and back again, and Luke didn’t miss the way her face lit up at the smile on Ethan’s face.
“I would hate to intrude,” she began, her eyes holding Luke’s.
“You wouldn’t be,” said Ethan. “Right, Dad?”
He felt like he was losing himself in the shining depths of her eyes, like he was being pulled in and that if he looked away, everything around them might come crashing down. “Right.”
* * *
The way Luke said “right,” with his blue eyes devouring her, made her feel like she’d been right to think of him as quicksand. The harder she fought against her attraction to him, the quicker it absorbed her. After he’d left the other day, she’d watched his dark blue truck with the white “Grayson Carpentry” logo on the door disappear down her street. She’d held her breath, thinking he might come back but had given up that hope after a few moments. But now, standing here in the dark, watching the parade with him, that hope was back, filling her up so much that she had to make sure her feet were still on the ground.
Given the chance, I’d love to show you the difference. Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the frigid air spread across her skin. She looked up at Luke, his chiseled features highlighted by the play of light and shadow from the twinkling parade lights. Standing so close to him, she was practically vibrating with how badly she wanted to touch him. And God, the way Ethan had looked up at her, all smiles and sparkling eyes so like his dad’s, she would’ve said yes to just about anything.
A red Cheyenne trolley covered in flashing white stars coasted down the street in front of them, chiming its bell as it passed. She wiggled her toes in her boots, trying to get the feeling back in them. She wasn’t used to the bitter, biting cold of Cheyenne. She’d grown up in Lexington, gone to med school at Tulane in New Orleans, had interned in Atlanta, and then worked in Tulsa. This dry, cold, windy climate was definitely going to take some getting used to. A chill passed through her, and she shivered, rubbing her hands together.
“Cold?” asked Luke, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a way that had her wondering what it would feel like to have those full lips on her.
“Freezing.”
“C’mere.” He extended an arm and pulled her into him, positioning her so that her back was snug against his chest. He stroked his hands up and down her arms a few times, trying to warm her, before slipping his arms around her waist, holding her tucked against him. Heat bloomed in her core, and she suddenly didn’t care about her numb toes any more. She barely knew him, and yet it felt so right to let him hold her. Right and perfect, and damn if that wasn’t terrifying. Because if she did give in to what she wanted, if she did date him (although he hadn’t asked again, she reminded herself), she’d have to tell him about the photos. It was only right to be honest with him. And the idea of Luke knowing the truth about her, of how he’d look at her, with shame and disappointment . . . but she didn’t move to free herself from Luke’s arms. Couldn’t, because her bones had melted.
All too soon, Santa’s sleigh came around the corner, red and shining. Santa waved merrily, “ho-ho-hoing” his way down the street, signaling the end of the parade. She noticed Ethan sneaking little glances at them, glee lighting up his sweet little face. Good Lord, he was a cute kid.
Luke slipped his arms from her and gripped one of her mittened hands in his gloved one. A surge of frustration rolled through her at the fabric barriers preventing any skin-to-skin contact.
“Lead the way, little man,” he said, rubbing the top of Ethan’s head affectionately, and sending fluttery sensations cascading through her chest. Hand in hand, she walked with Luke through the crowd as they headed south down Capitol Avenue toward the Depot Plaza.
“If I ask you out again, you gonna shoot me down?” Luke leaned in close to her, his voice low and warm.
She shook her head and smiled up at him, relief, happiness and apprehension all settling over her. “Not a chance.”
“Would you let me take you to dinner? Tomorrow night?”
She shook her head. “I’m on call at the hospital. What about the night after tomorrow?”
He tipped his head, considering. “That should work. I’ll see if my parents can watc
h Ethan. Make sure you give me your phone number before you head home tonight.”
“I will.”
He squeezed her hand, and she clenched her thighs against the anticipatory throb beginning to build there. Sure, he was gorgeous, but this crush she had on him was based on more than just his looks. It was watching him with his son. It was knowing he was handy around the house. The realization slammed into her that he really was a man, and not a beer-guzzling, video-game-playing, mom’s-basement-dwelling guy. He took care of those around him. He protected and nurtured and fixed, and Jesus, was that ever appealing.
“Dad! Dad! Can I get a cider?” Ethan danced around them, his cheeks pink with cold and excitement as they reached the Depot Plaza.
Luke reached into his back pocket and pulled his wallet out. “Sure, bud.” He began to slide out a five-dollar bill, but then paused and arched an eyebrow at her. “Would you like a cider?”
“You know, I think I would. I don’t reckon I’ve ever had a hot cider before.”
Warmth flashed in his eyes. “I love the way you say that. Reckon.” He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Ethan. “Three ciders, please, sir, and ask for a tray so you don’t spill.”
As Ethan scampered away, the money clutched in his small fist, Luke dipped his head. “Where do you reckon you’d like to go for dinner?”
Heat crawled over her cheeks. “Are you making fun of my accent?” Truth be told, she was a little sensitive about it and how it branded her as an outsider.
“I would never. I think it’s cute as hell.”
Her cheeks burned even more, and all she could think about was kissing him. What would it feel like to weave her hands through that thick hair and pull his face down to hers? She ached with how badly she wanted to find out.
Ethan came back, a cardboard tray with three steaming Styrofoam cups in his hands. He looked up at Luke, giving him over-the-top puppy-dog eyes. “Can I keep the change?”
