by Jillian Hart
“A long time to be on your own. To raise a family on your own,” he added. He spotted a bench in the sunshine and gestured toward it. “You haven’t looked for someone else?”
“It never crossed my mind.” She eased onto the bench—yep, cold as the day, but the sun felt good on her face. Reassuring. “Guess I’ve been too busy to think about it.”
Way to go, Shelby. She’d dodged the painful truth. She took a swipe of her ice-cream cone, letting the chocolate sit on her tongue.
“I can see that. Raising two kids would keep you busy.” He settled beside her, all six-feet-plus of him, so substantial he took up most of the bench and all the available oxygen.
Funny how she kept having trouble breathing around him. She licked her cone, resolute. She was a Texas girl. She knew how to make a stand. “Who was she?”
He turned his cone, licking it, focusing his attention there. “Maybe the player story is true.”
“Like I believe that. It’s your turn. Fess up, buddy.”
“She was my ex-fiancée.” The wind gusted, blowing a shock of dark hair across his high forehead. “Met her in a parking lot when I was stationed in California. She was in the process of being mugged.”
“And you stopped it.”
“Roger that.” A muscle bunched along his jawline as he gazed out at the street. A uniformed cop was writing tickets to the few cars still parked along the curb in defiance of the posted signs.
“I’d dated on and off for years,” he confessed. “But nothing seemed to be right, you know, as if I’d found The One.”
“You know it when you feel it.” She turned her cone. The best part about ice cream in this weather was that it didn’t drip. The worst? She was shivering. “The first time I saw Paul, he held a door for me on my way to chem lab and it was like getting hit by a truck. A life-changing moment. Very hard to miss.”
“Yes, that’s what I was looking for. A hit-and-run.” He crooked a smile, leaning back against the bench. “I didn’t feel that when I met Karen, but I was hoping it would turn into something bigger.”
“Did it?”
“I hung in there, hoping. It might’ve in time. I loved her.” He swallowed hard, surprised it had just popped out. It no longer hurt, but the scar remained. “She didn’t wait for me. Maybe I rushed the proposal, we got on well, we liked the same movies—”
“Not those action-adventure ones?”
“Of course. What else?”
“Give me a romantic comedy any day.”
“We wanted the same things.” Security, home, family. “She promised to wait for me, but when my deployment was over I came home to her planning a wedding with someone else.”
Shelby touch his arm. “I’m sorry.” Nothing could be lovelier than the concern for him on her heart-shaped face. “That had to devastate you. She didn’t at least let you know? All it takes is a stamp and a piece of paper. Well, and an envelope.”
“I was a little hard to reach.” He didn’t like to remember when his Humvee had tangled with an IED and the gunfight they might have won if they hadn’t run out of ammo. “Plus, I was gone longer than expected. She wrote, but the letter found me too late.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Three years.” He had to look away from her gaze, so full of caring. He stared at the booth going up across the street, listened to the hammer and tried not to feel. “I’m over it. No harm, no foul.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” She squeezed his arm. Her touch was killing him. “She hurt you.”
“Well, now, I’m grateful to her. She saved me from what was sure to turn out to be an unhappy marriage.” His hand crept up to catch hers. He couldn’t help entwining his fingers through Shelby’s. Her fingers so dainty and delicate.
“I suppose that’s an optimistic way to see it.” She peered up at him. “I’m just glad you didn’t wind up with an unhappy marriage, too. Love is too important for that.”
“Yes, it is.” He wished he could stop aching for this woman beside him. “So I’ve just hung out by myself.”
“And you’re still waiting for the truck to hit?” she asked. Wisps of blond hair tangled around her face. He wanted to smooth them back.
“Not sure that will happen at this point,” he admitted. Because it already had struck. He felt closer to her than to anyone. Ever. He felt vulnerable to her, without defenses, without a single barrier.
Maybe this could be a new beginning for them, he thought. A new year, a new start, a new chance to win her heart.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Shelby’s hand remained in his, her warm palm against his, her slim fingers tucked trustingly between his. “You don’t deserve to always be alone, Ronan.”
“I could say the same for you.” His voice sounded thick to his ears. All he needed was a hint from her that she could feel more than friendship for him. Just a hint, that’s all. “Maybe you’ll fall in love again.”
“Me? Oh, I can’t see that happening.” She shook her head, sweeping her ponytail from side to side. “Nothing could be more unlikely.”
“Really? Why?” His future hinged on her answer.
“I’m certain true love only comes once into a person’s life. Like a rare gift. One singular chance.” She had a soft faraway look in her eyes. “I already got that. I’ve already had my fairy tale. I can’t see it happening again.”
“Didn’t you just say to stay optimistic? To keep the hope?” But inside he was dying a little.
“I can’t see myself loving someone again. It’s just not an option.”
“Oh.” The mortal blow. “Why’s that?”
“Since Paul’s passing, I’ve never given another man a thought. First I was grieving and now... I have the kids, providing for them all by myself, figuring out exactly how I’m going to get us back on our feet again.”
“Right.” At least he knew the truth. He released his hold on her. His hand felt empty without hers, his skin cold.
Not a beginning after all, he thought. At least not for him.
* * *
SHELBY CAUGHT HERSELF going over her conversation with Ronan throughout the afternoon and now, five minutes to the end of her shift, was no exception. She balanced the tray, blinked against the lazy snowflakes, crossed the cobblestone street toward the volunteers doing the setup for First Night and tried to drive his memory from her brain. If only it were that easy. No matter how she tried, he stuck like glue.
“We were hopin’ you wouldn’t forget us.” A friendly middle-age man with round cheeks, his large nose red from the cold, gladly plucked a paper cup off her tray. “Nothing like the cocoa Jules whips up. Hits the spot.”
“Give me coffee any day.” The second volunteer, gray-haired and spry, chose a latte. “Tell Jules thanks, little lady. It was thoughtful of you to find us.”
“Just doing my job.” Was it her imagination, or was the building across the street the local cop shop? She couldn’t read the sign in the fading twilight, but the string of parked police cruisers out front had to mean it was. And yes, that meant her mind arrowed straight to Ronan.
After she’d paid off her ice-cream debt, he’d walked her back to the bakery. On the way he’d taken her into two different shops and introduced her to the owners. First, they went to the Ludwigs’ hoping they would keep her in mind if they should choose to hire more employees and gave her a glowing recommendation. Really nice of him. It had teared her up a bit.
“Missy?” The elder man’s voice pierced her thoughts. “Rumor has it that you’re Georgia’s granddaughter.”
“Yes, that’s me.” She couldn’t help noticing the way the man’s brown eyes lit up. Yep, call her interested. “So, you know my granny?”
“Oh, I’ve known her for years. Fixed her car more than a time or two back before I r
etired. Used to own a garage.” Those brown eyes didn’t just light up, they twinkled with something far more telling.
Well, how about that. Was he sweet on her grandmother? She had to know more. “I’m Shelby Craig. And you are...?”
“Robert Gleason. In town for our First Night celebration.”
“Jules gave me a few days’ work because of the event, but my kids will be able to enjoy it. I see all kinds of things for them—inner tubing, the snow maze, face painting—”
“Jolie Godwin does the face painting—she’s one of ours. An artist. And don’t forget the reading at the library.” Robert gestured to the sedate brick building behind him. “Renowned children’s author Ellie Summers will be telling stories. Your kids might like that.”
“Absolutely. I’ll tell Granny to put it on their agenda. She’ll be taking them.”
Robert nodded. “So, how long will you be staying with Georgia?”
“I’m on the hunt for work, so however long that takes.”
“You and a lot of folks. I hope you find what you’re looking for, young lady.”
“I’m a fighter, so I have no doubt. I won’t stop until I find it.”
“Just like Georgia, eh?” The elderly man sipped his coffee. No wedding ring on his left hand. Now that she noticed, he was a handsome man in, what, his early seventies. Well dressed, well groomed. He’d be a good match for her grandmother.
“Yep, that’s me, just like Granny.” She passed her tray to the third worker, who put down his hammer and joined them. A younger guy, probably just out of high school, he opted for a cup of cocoa.
“What are y’all doing here?” she asked Robert.
“Putting up the chamber of commerce booth.” Robert was really quite amiable. “We’re behind schedule, too. Should be quitting for the night, but—”
That’s as far as he got. He saw something beyond her right shoulder, a smile crossed his distinguished face and he got a dreamy look in his eyes. She knew who was coming up the street behind her.
“Mom!” Caleb’s boots thumped with each step. “We came to get ya.”
“Hi, honey.” Granny looked adorable bundled up in an ivory winter coat. The angora scarf she’d knitted brought out the blue in her eyes and her rosy cheeks. She held Riley’s hand. “We were at the bakery, but Jules sent us here to look for you.”
“I’m handing out freebies to the volunteers. I’ve got two extra cocoas right here. Do you happen to know any kids who’d be interested in drinking these for me so they don’t go to waste?”
“Me,” Caleb called out.
“Me, too.” Riley broke free, running in her pink boots, her blond pigtails bouncing.
She knelt so the tray was within easy reach. Her kids had clearly spent a happy day with their doting great-granny, that was for sure. And that was perfect. Exactly what she’d wanted. She wanted so much for them.
That’s when she saw him out of the corner of her eye—Ronan Winters just across the street.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE OUGHT TO JUST KEEP on walking, Ronan thought. Get in his truck, drive home and forget about his feelings for her. But it wasn’t that easy.
“Howdy, neighbor. What are you doing working?” Georgia raised a hand, motioning him over. “I thought you had the day off.”
“I do. I just dropped by the office to check my schedule for tomorrow.” His voice carried across the street, devoid of cars but filled with people. Tourists strolled through town looking for restaurants or browsing through shops. Volunteers finished up their First Night preparations for the day. Townsfolk were just getting off work.
There must be something going on at Wildwood Lodge, judging by the stream of foot traffic heading up that way. All the commotion ought to diffuse his hurt, but when Shelby turned toward him, it was as sharp and as keen as a grenade hit. I can’t see myself loving someone again. It’s just not an option. Shelby’s announcement had hammered him all afternoon, each word a blow.
“We’re heading to the lodge.” Georgia didn’t mind hollering over the crowd. She appeared to be enjoying it, if the wide grin on her face was anything to go by. “I’ve decided. You’re coming, too, so get on over here.”
“This is news to me.” His gaze swiveled to Shelby, who stood with an empty tray at her side and shot him a smile that made his kneecaps melt.
“Great idea, Granny. Get over here, Ronan. You’ve got nothing and no one waiting for you in that big old house of yours. Besides, I want you to come.”
How could he say no to that?
“Are you sure about wanting my company?” he called out.
“Absolutely. You’re a shady sort, but I’ll look right past that.”
Funny. “What are you up to, anyway?”
“We have a rip-roaring good time planned, that’s what.” She planted one hand on her hip, looking as pretty as a cover model with her wind-kissed girl-next-door looks. “Are you opposed to rip-roaring good times?”
“No, but I am immune to them. I’m dour. I frown at the idea of a good time. It goes along with my job.” And he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.
“I can handle any frowning you throw my way.” She lifted her chin, apparently not afraid of his supposed dourness. “Maybe I can change your opinion on fun. Don’t underestimate my powers of persuasion. I’ll make a party man out of you yet.”
“That I have to see.” Why his feet carried him forward, behind the barriers up to block traffic, he couldn’t say. What he felt for Shelby was a force stronger than disappointment, greater than impossibilities. So, she would never fall in love with him, he never had the chance to win her. That didn’t seem to matter as much compared with what she needed from him.
“Why don’t you come along, too, Robert.” She tossed her megawatt smile at the elderly gentleman. “The more the merrier.”
“Oh, well, you’re headed to Wildwood Lodge, you say? As it happens, I’m an excellent inner tuber. Can’t turn down an invitation like that. Do you kids know what the secret to a good inner tube run is?”
“What?” Caleb asked, bounding forward. His little sister trailed after him, eyes wide.
It wasn’t chance that he and Shelby were left behind as the group headed away from the half-built booth near the library. Ronan nodded hellos to the other workers, clicking their toolboxes closed, done with their day’s work. Robert Gleason offered to return Shelby’s tray to the bakery.
“That’s right nice of you.” She beamed at him. “Do you all want to come along, too?”
The young man shook his head, clearly overwhelmed by her. Ronan knew just how the kid felt. Tommy Gleason declined Shelby’s offer, having other plans.
At first the two of them walked in silence behind the others, listening to Caleb chatter about the few times it had snowed in their Texas hometown. The crisp night air felt invigorating, and the tiny, flawless snowflakes fell from the darkening sky.
“Sorry my granny roped you into coming along. But not really.” Shelby trudged alongside him. “It feels right having you with us. We’ve got to be better company than your television.”
“I don’t know about that. Recorded a great game I missed last weekend. Riveting.”
“Not sure we can compete with that.”
“You’re a close second.” He watched her in the streetlight.
“Look at everyone! It’s a crowd,” Georgia called out, walking backward. “I guess we aren’t the only ones with the same idea. Glad I brought a few extra cans.”
“That’s right, it’s Wildwood’s food drive tonight. A ticket for a can of food.” The lodge’s First Night activities dissipated from his mind as he breathed in the scent of honeysuckle and frosting.
“Look at it all lit up,” Shelby breathed, gesturing with a gloved hand toward the wood-and-stone lodge hugging
the base of the mountainside, picture windows golden against the dark. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”
“It’s a castle.” The little girl spun around looking like a fairy herself in her pink coat, purple hand-knit scarf, her honey-blond curls framing her button face. “Mama, it’s where the princess lives.”
“Is that right, honeybee?” Shelby’s voice dipped low. “What princess is that?”
“Princess Sugarplum.” The girl—Riley—tilted her head to one side, clearly as fanciful as her mother. “She’s defending her people from the evil dinosaur people. But right now she’s having a party, so everyone isn’t fighting and the dinosaur people aren’t trying to eat the regular people.”
“So everyone is just going to have a fun time tonight?” Shelby asked, gently cupping her hand over her daughter’s head.
“What are dinosaur people?” Caleb asked practically. “Dinosaurs can’t be people.”
“I guess that’s for me to figure out,” Shelby answered amiably, her shoulder lightly bumping Ronan’s arm on purpose, a friendly gesture. Friendly. She was completely unaware he felt more than friendship for her.
Just went to show how well he was hiding his feelings. He excelled at it. Might even be why he’d survived those six long months underground, kept in the dark, not knowing what would happen next. When his family hadn’t known if he’d been dead or alive. He breathed in the icy air, tinged with the smell of evergreen, snow and the faint hint of wood smoke. There was a bonfire at Wildwood, he remembered, something fun for the guests, and later a marshmallow roast for the kids.
“It’s a game of ours,” she told him, bringing him back to the moment, back to her. “The kids come up with an idea and I tell a story about it. It’s our bedtime routine. I tuck them in, turn out all the lights and pick up the story where I left off. I love to tell a good yarn.”
“Some things never change.” He remembered the girl she’d been and the boy he’d been, standing beneath the stars with their bikes parked in the gravel behind them, staring up. “What was that story you made up? Something about lost stars?”
