Crazy thoughts, when the two of them were completely incompatible.
And yet she had been both surprised and touched to see how he got along with the trio. The sight of him interacting with children had set off thoughts and urges she didn’t want to think about.
Talk about miracles being out of reach.
That afternoon, after they had eaten their fill of the popcorn they’d made in the fireplace, Lyssa took the first step in her plan to keep the kids occupied by making decorations. She presented the idea of popcorn garlands under the pretense of asking for their help.
“We’ll string the leftover popcorn to decorate the mantel over the fireplace, and maybe put a few strands on the Christmas tree.” Thanks to Amber, Michael’s tree was a work of art, but Lyssa knew neither of them would mind a few embellishments for a good cause. Besides, neither of them would see the tree again before Christmas.
“Are you helping, Mr. Nick?” Mollie asked.
Not trusting his answer, Lyssa said quickly, “He certainly is.”
“Everyone’s going to help,” Mollie announced.
“Even Brent?” Tommy asked her.
“Yes, Brent. He ate so much popcorn, he has to help.”
They all laughed, including Brent.
“And we’ll need him to help with the tree,” Lyssa said, “because he’s tall enough to reach the highest branches.”
“Mr. Nick can reach, too,” Mollie said.
Lyssa smiled. Nick definitely had made a conquest there. “As you said, Mollie, we’re all going to help. We can make some paper chains to decorate the room, too. So let’s get to work.”
She plopped the large bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table and distributed the thread and needles she had found in the linen closet upstairs. At this rate, she would have to make a list of items to replace for Amber.
Mollie and Tommy went to work enthusiastically, and even Brent pitched in without a word of complaint. It was watching Nick, though, that made her heart melt. Making Christmas decorations might not have been his “thing,” but he definitely had some skill at working with kids.
He helped Tommy thread a needle, guiding the little boy’s hand until he had slipped the thread through the needle’s eye. Flushed by his success, Tommy proudly insisted upon threading everyone’s needle himself.
When Mollie groaned in frustration after trying to add a half-dozen kernels to her thread, Nick showed her how to pierce the thickest part of the popped corn to prevent it from breaking.
And when it came time to drape the strands on the tree, he asked Brent’s opinion as to the best placement. She had never heard the quiet teen talk and laugh as much as he had in this short time.
She could so easily see Nick with children of his own…and hers… But she had already decided there was no point in dreaming about a future with him. Considering his single-minded focus on work, he could never be the man for her.
She got to her feet and, forcing a smile, said, “I think it’s time for some hot chocolate.”
Four voices rose in agreement, and she escaped gratefully to the kitchen. The more she saw of Nick connecting with the kids, the harder it was for her to watch and the more she wanted to stay away. Yet she knew this trip to the kitchen was only a temporary reprieve.
She just hadn’t realized how temporary.
She had barely started heating the milk in a pan on the stove when Nick entered the kitchen. He came to lean against the counter beside her. “Need something?” she asked brightly.
“Yeah. To tell you I forgot how much fun it is being around you. It’s been a great afternoon.”
She flushed. “No thanks to me. That’s all on the kids. They’re quite a bunch.”
“And you’re quite a woman.”
“No, I’m—”
He reached up and touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t do that, Lyssa. Don’t sell yourself short.” He moved his hand to trace her chin. A shiver tickled along her jaw. “You know what else I need?”
“Hot chocolate?”
“That, too. And this.”
He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. He tasted so like the man she had fallen for months ago. His kiss was so tender, so sweet, she couldn’t help but want more. Another thought hovered at the edges of her mind, a thought she felt sure she didn’t want to know. Not now. Not here. Not when his taste and his touch and his total concentration on her were all exactly what she needed.
One dizzying kiss led to another and then another, until she had to curl her fingers in the fabric of his T-shirt to keep herself standing upright. But finally she forced herself to come to her senses. She tilted her head back and whispered, “Stop.”
“Why?” he murmured.
“What would we say if one of the kids walked in?”
“That the chocolate will be ready as soon as I’m done kissing the cook.”
After the hot chocolate, Lyssa served a picnic supper in the living room, covering the coffee table with a selection of leftover appetizers from the party. Since being left stranded in the lodge, they hadn’t eaten the same thing twice.
And since kissing Nick, she hadn’t much cared about what she had to eat.
She and Mollie had agreed to play Go Fish with Tommy. This hand finished, she gave Tommy her cards to shuffle into the deck. Over his head, she watched Nick with Brent. They had pulled two of the armchairs to face each other with a small end table in between. Nick was teaching Brent how to play chess. With both their dark heads bent over the chessboard, they could have passed for father and son.
Mollie hadn’t moved more than a few feet from Nick’s side since he’d come back into the room from the kitchen.
Tommy hadn’t stopped talking and asking questions. As long as his topic didn’t turn to leaving the lodge, they could avoid a catastrophe.
“Miss Lyssa, when are we going home?” Not meeting her eyes, he looked down at the cards spread in front of him on the coffee table.
Her heart sank. Beyond Tommy, Nick and Brent looked at her. Mollie looked at Nick. Lyssa turned back to Tommy and ruffled his hair. “I don’t know for sure, sweetie. But we’ll all be together here until it’s time to leave.”
“But it’s Christmas in two days. I’m not gonna be home to put up my stocking. How’s Santa gonna fill my stocking?”
“You don’t have to be there,” Mollie said.
“Yes, I do,” he snapped.
In the glow from the fire, Lyssa saw his eyes fill with tears. What else could she say to reassure him?
“Mollie has a point,” Nick said suddenly.
Beaming, the little girl turned to look at him. Tommy turned, too, his expression not so joyous. Brent eyed Nick curiously, and even Lyssa couldn’t help glancing at him in surprise, wondering what he planned to say next.
“How?” Tommy demanded.
“Well, if you’re not home for Santa, Santa will come to you.”
“But my stocking—”
“We can make a stocking for Santa to fill,” Lyssa promised recklessly.
“You mean, use Nick’s socks?” Brent asked, pretending to be horrified.
Tommy and Mollie gasped.
Nick and Lyssa laughed.
“No,” she said. “Not using Nick’s socks. Tomorrow, you can make your own stocking, Tommy. With some fabric and a needle and thread, just like you made the popcorn chain.”
“Yay!” Tommy grinned.
Catastrophe avoided.
Over Tommy’s head, she sent Nick a relieved smile.
When he gave her a slow smile in return, her pulse jumped a few beats. Blinking, she glanced away.
Yes, they had just avoided one catastrophe. But was her heart leading her directly down the road to another disaster?
Chapter Nine
After Lyssa settled Tommy in the boys’ room, she waved good night to Brent, who sprawled on the second twin bed, his earbuds already in place. Again, Tommy had protested about staying alone, and Brent had come upstairs to ke
ep the younger boy company until he fell asleep.
Seeing a light on in the next room down the hall, Lyssa went in that direction. She found Mollie already changed into the oversized T-shirt they had borrowed from Amber for Mollie to sleep in. The shirt made her think of what she had promised Tommy, thanks to Nick. She hoped she wouldn’t have to raid Amber’s room for clothes to cut up to make Christmas stockings.
Mollie stood at the dresser, looking into the mirror. She had undone her braid, and her wavy hair spilled down her back almost to her waist.
“Ready for bed?” Lyssa asked.
“Soon.” Mollie grabbed a handful of hair and piled it on top of her head. “Can you do my hair like yours, Miss Lyssa?”
“Sure.” Knowing she would be warm sitting near the fire all afternoon, after lunch that day, she had gone up to her room and pulled her hair back into a loose French braid. Now, she picked up the brush from the dresser and began smoothing Mollie’s hair. One day, she hoped, she would do this for her own daughters.
Daughters she had hoped she would share with Nick.
But that had been yet another reason she had reluctantly realized she needed to say good-bye to him. Christmas, traditions, small-town values, family. Those were all the elements she wanted in her life. And the most important to her, the one that made the rest worthwhile, was family.
With their views so different and with Nick often halfway around the world on business, what kind of family life could they have?
“Do you think I should get my hair cut?” Mollie asked.
Lyssa started. Her hands had been busy brushing the little girl’s hair, but her mind had been…well, half a world away. “Why would you want to cut your hair? It’s beautiful just the way it is.”
“’Cause maybe it would make me prettier.”
She smiled. “I doubt you could look any prettier than you do now.”
“That’s what Miss Barnett says.”
“Your teacher is very smart.”
“You have to say that. She’s a grownup. And she’s your sister.” Mollie frowned. “I think she’s wrong. The boys at school don’t think I’m pretty.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They don’t want to be my boyfriend.” She sighed. “Miss Barnett says I’m too young to worry about boys, anyway.”
“She’s right about that, too.”
Her only older sister hadn’t said the same about herself years ago. When she wasn’t much older than Mollie, Callie had started going steady with her first boyfriend, the boy she had sworn would be the only one for her. That had ended disastrously, making her nickname herself the “bad-luck Barnett sister.” Little did she know that two others would eventually take on the nickname, too. But ever since that time years ago, when it came to young love, Callie’s was always the voice of reason.
In the mirror, Mollie stared at Lyssa. “Is Mr. Nick your boyfriend?”
For a moment, she froze. Hoping Mollie hadn’t noticed her reaction, she set down the brush and began to braid Mollie’s hair. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.” Not anymore… No matter how her heart tried to trick her or what Nick’s kisses seemed to say.
Mollie gave a little nod, as if in satisfaction.
Lyssa swallowed a sigh. In another ten years or so, this little girl could very well be her competition. With luck, they wouldn’t again both be in love with the same man.
Lyssa came downstairs prepared to gather up the dishes they had left in the living room from their picnic supper. Instead, the coffee table was clear except for a couple of magazines and the deck of cards Tommy had swept into a disorderly pile.
To her surprise, she found Brent in the kitchen with Nick.
“Tommy went right to sleep,” he said, “so I came down again.”
“And helped bring in the dishes?” she asked, looking at the crowded counter near the sink.
He nodded.
“It’s our turn to wash and dry,” Nick told her. “You take it easy.”
“Doing what?” she demanded.
“Sitting at the breakfast bar and supervising.”
At first she balked at the thought of his taking control of the kitchen. But how could she dislike him taking charge in a house that wasn’t even hers? Besides, Brent seemed comfortable with Nick, and keeping the teen happy was as important as amusing the younger kids. She gave in gracefully. “Well, why not? At home, my dad and brothers pitch in to help, too.”
“Do they cook?” Brent asked.
She laughed. “Not very well. Why? Do you?”
He turned red. “Yeah. I like cooking.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Nick said. “A man’s gotta do whatever it takes to survive.”
“In this case, what my mom makes me do.” He laughed. “But she says since I like eating so much, I’ll need to know how to cook for when I go away to college.”
“Your mom’s right. And cooking’s a skill you can turn into a career, if you want to.”
“Really?” Brent sounded interested.
“A lucrative career,” Nick added.
Money, again. All his thoughts went to nonstop work and the almighty dollar.
Lyssa blocked out whatever he said next to Brent, then let her concentration drift…but not too far. Only as far away as the sink, where Nick stood with his back to her as he washed the dishes.
She watched the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he lifted clean plates from the pan and reached across to set them in the draining rack. She listened to the deep murmur of his voice as he talked to Brent.
The faint tang of lemon-scented dishwashing soap filled the room. As she inhaled the scent, she daydreamed about more nights with Nick, with the two of them doing dishes together in their own kitchen.
She could just imagine his reaction if she told him about her dreams. Of course, he would remind her she didn’t set her sights high enough. At the very least, he would insist they buy a dishwasher. Top of the line, naturally, like the “bike” he—as Santa—had recommended to Tommy.
When the last dish was dried, Brent hung up the cloth and said good night. “For sure, this time,” he said to her, grinning.
She laughed, happy he was getting comfortable enough to joke with her. Then she realized he might not have been teasing at all. Maybe he’d meant to reassure her she would now have Nick all to herself.
All to herself. That phrase sent a shiver up her spine. The last time they were alone in here, earlier this evening, he had kissed her again and again.
She watched Brent lope from the room. Then, slowly, she turned back to Nick.
From the opposite side of the breakfast bar, he stood looking at her. He crossed his arms, straining the fabric of his T-shirt, and leaned back against the counter. The same counter they had both stood near when he’d kissed her.
Suddenly, she felt the need to distance herself from that memory.
“The fire should still be going. Want to take a cup of chocolate or tea out to the living room?”
“And make more dishes?” he asked with a laugh.
“I’ll wash them in the morning.”
“Then, a tea for me. I’ll go stoke the fire.” He left the room, and she exhaled in relief.
She needed a rescue party ASAP.
When Lyssa carried the tray with their tea mugs and a plate of petit fours left from the party, Nick rose from his chair to take the tray from her.
He had added another log to the fire and turned off the lamp, leaving the room lit only by the dancing flames and the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the corner.
She swept aside the magazines on the coffee table to make room for the tray, then settled on the couch. To her dismay, after Nick set the tray down, he took a seat beside her.
“Sugar? Cream?” she asked briskly, reaching for his mug.
“Black’s fine.” He took it from her, his fingers brushing hers. He reached for a petit four. “Tommy will have a fit if he finds out we’ve been making inroads into the de
sserts.”
She laughed. “He probably will. But there are plenty of sweets still in the pantry. We won’t run out.”
“You should have offered some of these to Brent. Give him a taste—no pun intended—of what he might do if he opts for culinary school.”
“He was serious about that?”
“Yeah.” Nick sounded surprised. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”
She blushed, knowing she must have missed that part of the conversation while she was thinking about Nick. Luckily, he went on without waiting for her answer.
“He’s all fired up about the idea. He’s going to talk to his school counselor. I told him I’d do some checking into it for him, too.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It won’t be hard for me to pull some info together, and it’ll be interesting to see just what’s out there.”
She smiled. Maybe there was hope for him. This was the first time he had ever mentioned research not connected to a job, the first time she had heard him speak about doing work that didn’t have a hefty commission attached to it. His willingness to do this for a teenager he’d just met filled her with a warmth that rivaled the steaming mug of tea she held.
“He’s willing to go out on a limb,” Nick said, “and to spread his wings.”
Abruptly, the tea mug seemed hot enough to scald her. She set it down on the coffee table. “He is, and I’m not—is that what you’re trying to say?”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Nick. Once and for all, I’m not going to become this big business player you think I can be. It’s not what I want.” She shook her head. “You just don’t understand. I’m satisfied with my life.”
A small doubt struck her. No, she wasn’t entirely satisfied. How could she be, when her dreams about him could never come true? But she pushed aside the thought and said what she could say truthfully. “I’m satisfied managing a store in my hometown. I just don’t need all the glamour of a big-city job or the extra money or, for sure, the added stress!”
Snowbound with Mr. Wrong (Snowflake Valley) Page 9
