Chuckling, Colt eased back a little to catch her gaze. “Do you need me to help you?” He suddenly found himself not wanting to be alone anymore. Basking in Abbie’s sunlit warmth was somehow healing him.
“Sure, I’d love to have some help. Day two of our celebration includes skiing from noon until five. All the families gather at Brandy Hill, a great little slope just outside of town. All it has are rope tows to the top—nothing fancy. I always man the food booth for them.”
“Do you ski?”
Wrinkling her nose, Abbie laughed. “Me? Barely. I fall more than I stand on my feet. How about you?” She was deliriously happy with the fact that Colt wanted to be with her tomorrow. Her heart did somersaults and she could scarcely believe all this was happening.
“Skiing isn’t one of my strong points,” Colt admitted in a droll tone. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll help you in the food shack. Keep you company.”
She met and held his smoldering look, which sent heat flowing through her. His arms tightened around her briefly. “It’s more than okay with me....”
Abbie could barely wait for tomorrow. The magic of Christmas had unexpectedly given her a beautiful gift to her...Colt Hamlin.
3
December 22—Day 2
The delighted screeches and shouts of the Perseus children filled the winter air as they ran through the twirling snowflakes toward the rope tow located at the base of Brandy Hill. Colt couldn’t help but give Abbie a lopsided grin as they trundled boxes over to the small wooden structure that doubled as a makeshift buffet to feed the hungry families. It was noon, and everyone was starved.
Colt had driven over to Abbie’s earlier to load the aluminum urns filled with coffee and hot, cinnamon-laced apple cider. They’d picked up sandwiches and bags of potato chips from the Trayherns as the hungry, excited crew boarded the bus leased for the occasion.
Last night, Colt had mustered up the courage to give Abbie a chaste, swift kiss on her flushed cheek at the door to her cabin after he’d brought her back from the dance. He’d wanted to do more...much more, but he didn’t want to rush things with Abbie, either. The fact that her eyes grew lustrous after his impromptu kiss had made him feel like he was ten feet tall and walking on air.
Abbie opened the door to the shack. It creaked and groaned in protest. The building was constructed of Douglas fir, the wood grayed with age and from the harsh winters they had in this region of the Rockies. The weather was perfect for the afternoon ski party: the temperature was in the low thirties, and just a bit of snow was falling from a sky that was mostly gray with some spots of blue peeking out. It was a weekday, so the Perseus employees had the normally busy place all to themselves.
Setting the first cardboard box on a table inside the shack, Abbie smiled over at Colt as he brought in a heavier box. How handsome he was! The warmth banked in his eyes thrilled her. He gave her a bashful look, that strong mouth of his hitched in a slight smile for her alone.
Jason Trayhern, now in civilian clothes, jeans, hiking boots, a bright red sweater and a dark blue navy jacket, brought in another box.
“Hey, thanks,” Abbie called to the young man. She saw the dark smudges beneath Jason’s eyes. At nineteen, he stood six foot three inches tall, with his father’s broad shoulders, wide chest and narrow hips. He was almost a carbon copy of Morgan with a square face, wide-set gray eyes and military short black hair. Abbie could see Laura’s influence, however, in Jason’s mouth; it wasn’t as hard looking as Morgan’s. Jason had Laura’s sensitivity, too—a sensitivity that had caused him much angst over the years, Abbie suspected.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Clemens.” Jason stepped aside and helped Colt maneuver the largest, heaviest box onto the table—the one that contained sandwiches for the hungry crew hanging around outside the shack. Jason grinned a little. “I’ll go get the apple cider dispenser for you now, ma’am.”
“Great. Thanks, Jason. I wouldn’t know what to do without your help.” Abbie glanced at Colt, who worked at her side to unpack the boxes. She absorbed his nearness. He was dressed in a bomber jacket that had seen better days, an apple-green sweater, jeans that outlined his heavily muscled thighs to perfection, and hiking boots. A white silk scarf set off his outfit.
She smiled up at him as he met and held her glance. “I’m so glad you’re helping me, too.” Abbie glanced out the counter window, where at least twenty children of varying ages were laughing, playing and running around. The adults were helping them get their skis on so they could use the rope tow, now in operation. “This is a hungry crew we have to feed.”
Nodding, Colt smiled at her and continued opening boxes. In the process, his hand accidentally brushed hers. Abbie had taken off her leather gloves to unpack and get everything set up, and so had he. Her flesh was warm. Inviting. How badly he wanted to continue touching her. “Yeah, those little rug rats out there definitely have a starved look on their faces. A bunch of hungry lookin’ buzzards, if you ask me.”
“Rug rats,” Abbie sniffed. “What an awful name to call children.”
“A loving military term,” Colt assured her in a deep voice. He saw Jason coming with the huge aluminum urn containing the apple cider, and moved to the side door to swing it wide.
“Thanks, Mr. Hamlin,” Jason huffed as he struggled with the huge urn.
Colt helped him place it on the counter where people could easily put a paper cup beneath the spigot to pour out a drink of the warm, fragrant cider.
“I’ll fetch the hot chocolate now,” Jason said, and left quickly.
“That boy is tense,” Colt said quietly as he came back to the table to help Abbie spread wrapped sandwiches onto a large platter.
Abbie sighed. “I know. Poor Jase! I feel so sorry for him. He’s trying so hard to do what his parents expect of him. See the circles under his eyes? I was talking to Laura earlier this morning, and she told me that Jason and Morgan had a big fight.”
“The kid looks like death warmed over,” Colt noted. “It musta been one hell—heck—of a fight.” He took the first tray of sandwiches and placed them on the counter. Instantly, ten children rushed forward, their little hands eagerly grasping for the food.
“I guess his grades at the academy aren’t good,” Abbie murmured, low enough that no one could eavesdrop on their conversation. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass Jason; the youth had enough trouble right now. “He’s doing the same thing he did in high school before I got hold of him—goofing off, partying, not being responsible. Another form of rebellion.”
“Ouch. Not the place to flunk out of,” Colt muttered. He gave her a wink. “Maybe what he needs is another Abbie Clemens at the academy to rescue him and set him straight, like you did here.”
Giving Colt a wistful look, Abbie said softly, “My heart just bleeds for Jase. He’s a complicated child—I mean, young man.... It’s funny, I still think of him as a kid and I shouldn’t. He’s growing up so fast. They always do in their teenage years.” She laughed softly.
The kid had probably not slept much after the argument, Colt guessed, because he had bloodshot eyes, too. Life was hard, Colt knew. And life was gigging Jason right now. Did he have what it took to pull himself up by his own bootstraps? Only Jason could answer that. Colt took a second tray of sandwiches and set them on the counter to replace the emptied one. Adults were ambling over now that the kids had their lunches in hand. The shack was being mobbed by hungry people, and Colt smiled a little as he watched the food disappear quickly from that tray, as well. Turning, he saw Abbie handing him a third tray piled high with sandwiches.
For the next half hour, they fed the hungry Perseus group. Jason excused himself and went out on the slope with his sister, Katy, who was now seventeen and a beautiful young woman, in Colt’s eyes. She was the spitting image of Laura, except she had her father’s height and stood nearly six feet tall, was medium boned and a super athlete. The twins, Peter and Kelly, now twelve years old, were holding on to the rope tow, their skis on, w
ith their older siblings in front and behind them.
Colt was happy when he and Abbie were finally left alone. Everyone had gobbled up their lunch and flown off to the beckoning slopes. The shouts and laughter of the children was contagious. He saw a lot of the mercs becoming big kids themselves. Taking one of the rough-hewn stools, Colt brought it over to where Abbie had just sat down at the table. Neither of them had eaten yet, and he opened his turkey sandwich. Cups of steaming apple cider sat on the table before them.
“Are you going to ski pretty soon?” Colt asked. He watched her eyes widen—beautiful eyes he could fall into and lose his soul within. Colt knew that with Abbie, he was safe in a way he’d never experienced before with a woman. Her human touch, her ability to work well with both children and adults, was blatantly apparent. But he was a glutton; he wanted her all to himself.
Colt laughed harshly at himself. He couldn’t believe all he was feeling—him, the loner. The guy who had planned to camp out in the condo for the holidays, drink himself into a stupor daily to numb the pain he felt. Somehow, Abbie’s sunny smile, her dancing eyes and that heart that was a wide as the blue skies of Montana made him want to be with her, and with people. She was magical. And he wanted her—in all ways. Did she want him, however? Colt realized as never before that the loss of her husband had damaged her emotionally. She was just emerging from a long, dark tunnel of grief. Was she ready for a relationship?
What the hell could he bring to her? Give to her? A snarly, irritable, PTSD warrior who found it hard to stay in the mainstream of life and society—what a helluva prize catch he would make....
Picking up her cup of apple cider, Abbie sipped it, then smiled as she set it down on the peeled paint of the tabletop. “Me? Ski? Oh, gosh, Colt, I’m all thumbs and left feet! No, I just serve the food, I don’t ski. I’d probably break my neck—or my leg—if I tried.” She saw a smile lurking at the corners of his well-shaped mouth. Her heart pounded briefly as Colt gave her an intimate, smoldering look. She’d seen that same look last night as they’d stood on the front porch of her cabin just before he’d kissed her. Oh, it was a small kiss, Abbie chided herself. But it did big-time things to her, making her heart thud in her breast, her pulse leap wildly and a warm, throbbing heat settle deliciously in her lower body. She felt herself coming alive as a woman. Colt’s one hesitant kiss last night, his lips caressing her cheek, had made her feel as if she were the mythical Persephone leaving the darkness of Hades and emerging back on the surface of the earth, to appreciate all its colors, textures and grandeur once again. Studying him through her lashes, Abbie wondered if he realized that his look was making her heart and body come alive. Did he? Probably not.
His grin widened. “I’m a so-so skier. But let me take you up later. I’ll help you stay upright as we go down the hill, okay?” Colt chastised himself silently. If she skied that badly, he could keep his arms around her, hold her and remain close without anyone thinking anything of it. What a sneaky bastard he was. He didn’t have the guts to just tell her how he felt about her. Colt was too frightened that Abbie would get scared and, like the clouds moving across the hill right now, snuffing out the sunlight, would run from him.
Easing off the stool, Abbie shrugged. “I’m a kid at heart. Sure, I’ll try it.” Her pulse throbbed momentarily as she saw his eyes grow hooded and that smoldering look grow more intense. A thrill moved through her. Abbie found herself feeling joyous in a way she’d never been before. As she puttered about, placing sandwiches wrappers into a plastic trash bag, she tried to sort out the myriad feelings Colt was effortlessly evoking within her. One chaste kiss! Just one, and Abbie felt like a teenager head-over-heels in love!
“You mentioned that your parents are in Florida?” she asked him.
Colt finished off the sandwich and picked up his apple cider. Just watching Abbie move around the shack and tidy it up sent a frisson of longing through him. She was so graceful. He wanted her hands ranging up his body with that same grace. Tearing his mind from that thought, he frowned and answered her question. “Dad’s in a nursing home now. My mother died three years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Abbie hesitated, then put the bag in the garbage can next to the table. There wasn’t much room in the shack and she absorbed Colt’s continued nearness. His brow was furrowed. “Were you going to go and visit your dad over the holidays?”
“No. He has Alzheimer’s pretty bad. He doesn’t recognize me anymore. He doesn’t know where he’s at mentally....” Colt’s mouth flattened. “Usually I’m on a mission this time of year, but I fly in to see him at other times. He has to have twenty-four-hour nursing care.”
Abbie sat down. “I’m so sorry...that must be so hard, Colt, to not have him recognize you, his son.” She saw the damage it had done to him; it was clearly written in his features, even though he tried to avoid her gaze. She saw Colt try to shrug it off, but the anguish remained banked in his averted eyes.
Taking a huge risk, Abbie followed her intuition and said softly, “I understand that you’ve had some pretty awful missions over in the Kosovo-Bosnia region. I’m sure between your dad’s deteriorating condition and the stresses on you over there, you must be exhausted.” Tired all the way to his soul, Abbie guessed. She held her breath, knowing she had to tread lightly because of the PTSD symptoms he’d accrued after those missions. Abbie didn’t know why she was broaching the topic with Colt. It was a subject most men would refuse to speak about, especially with a woman.
Just the tender way Abbie gazed at him made the wall around his heart crack open. He actually felt physical pain and rubbed his chest where his heart lay beneath the sweater he wore. Staring down at the cup of apple cider he held, Colt rasped, “I thought I knew what hell on earth was, Abbie...but I didn’t, not until these past three missions....”
She sat quietly and waited. Why was it so hard for a man to talk out his feelings? Colt’s hard face was ravaged with emotions that were eating him alive. Abbie saw the way he worked his mouth into a brutal line to stop the avalanche she sensed behind it. As he moved the cup slowly around and around in his large, scarred hands, she felt her heart breaking for him. More than anything, Abbie wanted to slide her arms around his slumped shoulders and just hold him. That was what he needed right now: to be held. And she wanted to be the woman who did it.
The silence between them was strained and tenuous. Abbie knew from experience that if she sat quietly and let the pressure mount, then more than likely Colt would begin to talk. When he lifted his head, she saw dampness in his eyes. It tore at her.
“Three missions,” Colt said gruffly. “Three horrible missions with no positive outcome. I’ll tell you something, Abbie, that part of the world is a hellhole. There are no happy endings over there for either side. Not ever.” He shook his head and took a quick gulp of the apple cider. Avoiding her look, he growled, “When I got off this last one...well, I was reeling from it. My partner, Carol, quit. She couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t blame her. It’s rough over there....”
Abbie knew that mercs at Perseus worked in man-woman teams. And she knew from talking with Laura that Carol had been Colt’s partner for a good five years. Abbie understood the camaraderie, the trust and teamwork that developed under dangerous mission conditions, and she was sure he was devastated by losing Carol, too. “And so you were going to hole up here and try to heal?” she murmured gently. When Colt lifted his head again, the dampness in his eyes was gone. He’d shoved all those raw feelings very deep within himself. His hands, however, gripped the paper cup hard.
He snorted. “I wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Me and Jack Daniels...”
She flinched inwardly. He had been slugging down whiskey to numb what he was feeling. Getting up, Abbie followed her heart. She moved quietly and sat beside Colt, placing her fingers around his larger ones as they gripped the cup. She heard him take in a swift breath of air. His head snapped up. Heart pounding, Abbie sat quietly and looked at him, her hands wrapped around his.
“I understand a little of what you’re feeling, Colt. When Ted died, I felt like someone had thrown me into a dark hole of hell that I didn’t feel I could ever survive.” Her mouth pulled upward slightly at the corners, and her voice was tremulous with feeling. “What helped me get through it were people who loved me—my friends...my family from North Dakota. The people I worked with at the high school were supportive, too. Laura Trayhern, bless her, became my strength. She, more than anyone, understood what I was going through, because of her own traumas, losing Morgan to the drug lords....”
Abbie’s warmth and tenderness sent a hot sheet of longing through Colt. Easing his hands from hers, he placed the paper cup on the table and then picked up her hands again and held them. Drowning in her blue eyes, which were sparkling with unshed tears, he felt his heart rip wide-open from his brutally suppressed feelings. Abbie was so small and slender next to his bulk and masculine strength, yet he sensed with every fiber of his being that she was the stronger one here, not him. He felt as if a huge fist was jamming into his chest, causing very real pain, and he wanted to scream out in anguish.
Abbie watched as his mouth turned hard, his lips thinned. He avoided her eyes and stared down at their hands. She felt him quiver. Colt was wrestling to fight back the overwhelming emotions he’d stuffed away during those missions.
All her life, Abbie had been led by her heart, her passion, and the voice of intuition within her. That voice whispered to her to kiss him...now....
Lifting her hands from his, she slid her fingertips up the rocky ridge of Colt’s jaw and framed his face. Her gesture snapped him out of his suspended state. He lifted his head. His gaze narrowed intently on her, his black pupils dilating. She saw the tears banked in his eyes, and moved closer, till her body grazed his. Closing her eyes, Abbie felt her heart beating like a wild bird suddenly caged. Was she doing the right thing? Would Colt take her efforts the right way? Did he know she wanted to cry for him? To hold him? Lost as she was in the hungry need to make physical contact with him, Abbie knew, somewhere in her spinning mind, that it was right thing, even if she was scared to death.
A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas Page 24
