Amy was a goner and she knew it. “Well, since you put it that way, how can I refuse?” And why would I want to?
In what seemed like the blink of an eye Amy found herself helping untangle strings of lights in the Sinclairs’ living room. Riley had already used his saw to trim the bottom of the tree. He had put it in a stand he’d had sitting out and waiting at the ready. Once the tree stood steady in the stand, he filled the stand with water, and Pammy helped him drape a red-and-green skirt beneath the tree to hide the stand. They had moved furniture around so the tree could occupy the place of honor before the wide window overlooking the front porch.
“Okay,” Amy said a few minutes later. “That’s it for this one. Can someone plug this in for me, please?” She was sitting on the floor amid strings of lights, too far away from the wall to reach the outlet.
“I can,” Pammy offered.
Amy shot a quick glance at Riley, working on his own string of lights. He saw the question in her eyes—are kids allowed to plug things in? What did she know about kids? But Riley gave a slight nod, so Amy relaxed.
“Great,” she told Pammy. “Thanks.”
Pammy pushed the plug into the outlet, but nothing happened.
Amy groaned and laughed. This was her third string, and she’d had to check every bulb in all of them to find the one bulb in each string that was burned out. “Here we go again. I thought they made them now that didn’t make all the lights go out just because one bulb quit working.”
“They do,” Riley acknowledged. “Or so I’m told. These things are antiques.”
“Nana and Gramps used to use them on their tree when Mama was a little girl,” Jasmine explained. “Back in the old days.”
Amy laughed. “The old days, huh?”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “You know, right after Lee surrendered.”
“Huh?” Jasmine said.
“Who’s Lee?” Pammy asked.
“What’s sumembered?” Cindy asked.
“Surrendered,” Amy said automatically. “It means he gave up.”
“Oh.” Cindy wasn’t particularly impressed. She was having too much fun playing with a bag of bows from packages of years past. Some of the bows still had enough adhesive on their backings to stick, evidenced by the red, green, and yellow bows stuck to the little girl’s hair.
One by one, Amy checked each bulb until she found the one that required replacing, and the entire string lit up.
“Aha. Success.”
“Me, too,” Riley said as his string, too, lit up.
Finally they had all the light strings for the tree. Riley had a system—start at the top and wind around the tree, adding a new string when necessary, until the entire tree was covered.
Next came the decorations. Amy assigned herself the job of handing them out and left hanging them to Riley and the girls. Amy’s heart constricted watching the girls brag about remembering this one and that one from last year.
Then she lifted out one of those decorations that contain a photograph. This one was of Riley, Brenda, and the girls. Cindy was a chubby little toddler. A lump rose in Amy’s throat.
“What have you got there?” Riley asked.
She had to blink the moisture from her eyes before she could look up at Riley standing over her. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” He took the ball from her and held it gently in the palm of his hand. That was the dichotomy of the man, right there. Big, tough, calloused hands gently cupping a ball so delicate that he could crush it with a harsh look, but it was his family, precious and safe in his protection. The hard protecting the delicate, delicately. A strong man with a softness to capture a woman’s heart.
“Is it us, Daddy?” Pammy asked, breaking the spell.
“It’s us,” he said softly.
“Lemme see,” Cindy cried.
“Me, too.” Jasmine stretched sideways to see around Cindy.
Riley knelt and held out the ornament so all his girls could see. Then he stood. “Now, where should we put it?”
“Right here.”
“No, up there.”
“Over here.”
“Okay,” he said with a chuckle. “Now that we’re all agreed, I’ll just put it right here.” He chose a spot halfway up, facing the room. He put it as near the outside of the limb as he could without endangering the ornament. “There. How is that?”
“Perfect,” Amy whispered without thought.
“Yea!” the girls cheered.
Riley turned to Amy and held out his hand. “Okay, what’s next?”
Amy looked away, then down into the box of ornaments. “Here.” From her seat on the floor, she handed him the next one, and the next, and soon the ornaments from two large boxes adorned the evergreen.
“Is it time for the icicles yet?” Jasmine asked.
“Icicles!” Cindy cried.
“What about the garland?”
Chagrined that they’d nearly forgotten the garland, Riley did most of the work, starting at the top as with the lights, and letting the girls help drape it around the lower limbs.
“Now the icicles?” Cindy demanded.
“No,” Riley said. “Not quite yet. Something else is missing.” He arched his neck and peered up at the top of the tree. “I wonder what it could be.”
“The angel,” Jasmine said.
“Oh, the angel,” Pammy agreed.
“Can I put her on?” Cindy asked.
“The three of you decide,” he said. “I might be able to lift two of you up there, but not three.”
“Amy can lift me,” Cindy offered.
A little thrill raced through Amy.
Riley looked at her, his brow raised. “Would you mind?”
“Mind? I’d be honored.”
It took some maneuvering to get everyone within reach. Amy lifted Cindy, and Riley hefted Pammy and Jasmine. Then they had to stop and start over because they’d forgotten the angel. She stood about eight inches tall and was dressed in a beautiful white lace gown, with miles of angel white hair, with a silver halo and wings.
Eventually all three girls had a hand on the angel and put her on the top of the tree.
“Wait,” Jasmine complained. “She’s crooked.”
Amy could barely speak around the lump of emotion in her throat. She had never participated even remotely in putting the angel atop a Christmas tree. To have this family that was so important to her include her this way, in fact, need her help for this ritual, nearly undid her.
“Your daddy can straighten her,” she managed.
Riley shot her a look of gratitude. He was getting tired hoisting two wiggling girls up in the air at once. He set the girls down and huffed and puffed as if he’d run ten miles. “You girls are getting too big to heft around like that.”
“Aw, Daddy, we are not.”
“Okay, maybe not. But by next year,” he said.
When Amy set Cindy down, Riley reached up and straightened the angel.
Pammy grinned. Jasmine clapped.
“Now can we do the icicles?” Cindy demanded.
“Yes, Cindy, we can do the icicles now,” Riley said. “Amy, the icicles, if you please.”
“Certainly.” She handed him a box of icicles. When he took it, their fingers brushed. It seemed as if his lingered on hers a little longer than necessary, a lot shorter than she wanted. When he took his hand away a shiver ran up her spine. A shiver of warmth.
Then they made her laugh with their debate over which method was best, the “one or two strands carefully arranged” method versus the “grab a handful and throw it on” method. Cindy loved to throw while the two older girls carefully draped theirs one strand at a time. Riley sided with Cindy, but spent most of his time doling them out to her a couple at a time so she wouldn’t throw large clumps at the tree.
This is how a true family behaves, Amy thought, imprinting the picture permanently in her mind.
Oh, she wasn’t naive enough to think that the Sinclairs were perfect or
that they always got along so well or were always so happy and loving as they were this day. But the bonds were there and they were strong. Nothing was going to tear this family apart. Not even death, she thought. The death of their mother and wife. Even without Brenda, they were still bound, maybe tighter than ever.
And the love, she thought with quiet envy. It was there in their eyes. Love, laughter, respect for each other.
She knew the girls had no idea how lucky they were to have each other, to have this man as their father. To have had Brenda as their mother. Her voice and her face might fade from their minds in the years to come—or perhaps not, if they hung on to the Christmas presents Amy had brought them from Iraq—but their mother would always be in their hearts, and they would never forget the essence of her, her love for them. In that, they were blessed. And while Amy was truly glad for them, somewhere inside her was the little girl she’d once been, wondering why her mother didn’t love her, why she kept getting shuffled from uncle to aunt to cousin to foster care.
She prayed that these darling girls never had to learn how lucky they were.
“Hey.”
At the soft voice, Amy blinked and found Riley kneeling before her.
“What’s wrong?”
Amy smiled. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Thank you for including me with your family today. You have no idea how special this has been for me.”
He stroked one finger down her cheek. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here.”
His touch made gooseflesh rise on her arms. His words made butterflies flutter in her heart.
“Mistletoe, mistletoe!”
“Uh-oh.” Riley pushed himself to his feet, then extended a hand for Amy. “Brace yourself,” he warned as he pulled her to her feet. “They like to kiss.”
“Well, that’s convenient,” she said before she could stop herself. “So do I.”
His brow arched and his lips curved upward. “Glad to hear it.”
Oh, yeah, she should have kept her mouth shut. He looked at her now as if she were the last morsel on the plate and he was starving.
She quickly moved away, toward the girls. Away from temptation.
“Amy, look at me.”
Amy looked at Cindy as instructed. The child held a sprig of mistletoe over her own head and beamed up at her. Amy gave her an exaggerated frown. Folding her arms over her chest, she tapped one finger against her own lips.
“Do you know you’ve got leaves sticking out of the top of your head?”
Cindy giggled, then hiccuped. “It’s not leaves, silly, it’s mistletoe. You’re supposed to kiss the person under the mistletoe. It’s a costume.”
“Custom,” both her sisters corrected.
“Really? Well, if it’s a custom…” Amy leaned down and kissed Cindy on the nose, making the girl giggle and hiccup again.
They took turns, with Cindy finishing up her turn by getting kisses from everyone else. Pammy held the mistletoe over Jasmine’s head, and they all took turns kissing her. Jasmine returned the favor, but had to stand on a footstool to do it.
Then it was Riley’s turn, but he declared that not all the ladies had had their turn yet and held the sprig over Amy’s head.
The girls cheered and took turns kissing her on the cheeks, the nose, and before Amy could make an excuse and duck away, Riley kissed her on the lips. A kiss so fast and light that there was no way anyone could take offense.
But the spark it ignited was potent. If the girls hadn’t been there, Amy knew she and Riley would soon be rolling on the floor, their mouths fused, their hands seeking, and their clothes in a pile under the Christmas tree. By the look in his eyes, she wasn’t the only one who knew it.
They had to do it all again when Riley hung the mistletoe above the doorway and the girls made him stand beneath it so they could all kiss him. Laughing and giggling, they pushed and shoved Amy into place. There was no help for it, she had to kiss him. For the girls.
Yeah, right. For the girls.
She brushed her lips against his cheek then stepped away.
Riley gripped her hand and held her close to his side. How was she supposed to regain her equilibrium with his thumb drawing little circles on the palm of her hand?
They all stood around the tree, admiring her handiwork.
“It’s beautiful,” Amy murmured.
“It’ll be even prettier when it gets dark outside,” Pammy said.
“Let’s go see if we can see it from the porch in the daytime,” Jasmine suggested.
The girls headed for the front door in a flash.
“Put your— Never mind,” Riley said to the front door as it closed behind them. “I guess they won’t freeze to death in the short time they’ll be outside.”
Then, without a word, he took her by the hand and rushed her around the corner and into the kitchen. He gripped her shoulders and looked down at her. His eyes were dark, his nostrils flared.
“If you don’t want me to kiss you, push me away right now.”
“You’re wasting time.” She slid her arms beneath his and pulled him close.
He swooped, his mouth taking hers before hers could take his. He invaded her mouth and her senses, heating her blood, her skin. Stealing her breath. Softening her heart.
She drank him in. His taste was dark and minty. His scent, of pine and fresh air. She reveled in the kiss, in him. Never had she felt such completeness and never had a kiss made her yearn so strongly for more.
They might have kissed forever, or slid to the kitchen floor and made love right there, but for the sound of the front door opening and three little girls giggling.
Riley and Amy tore apart, chests heaving, eyes wide. She was gratified that his eyes looked as startled as she felt.
“Wow,” he whispered.
She couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.” Then she remembered who she was kissing, and her smile slipped away. Her heart sank. “Wow.” It shouldn’t have happened, that kiss. And it damn sure shouldn’t have been a wow.
“Daddy? Amy?” Pammy called.
Riley huffed out a breath and stepped away from Amy. “We’re in the kitchen,” he called out. “Close the front door.”
“Yes, sir.”
Amy didn’t think she could face the girls. She felt too shaky on the inside. She had to get out of there. She pushed past Riley and retrieved her coat and bag from where she’d left them in the dining room.
“What are you doing?”
Amy jumped as if she’d just been caught stealing the family silver. “You startled me.”
“Glad to hear it.” He leaned against the kitchen doorway and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m a little startled myself. Is that why you’re running?”
“Running?” She shrugged into her coat. “I guess that’s as good a word as any, but I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat.” She hefted her bag and whirled toward the hall door. And there stood three little girls.
“Are you going?” Pammy asked.
“You could stay longer, couldn’t you?” Jasmine asked.
Cindy poked out her lower lip in a champion pout. “Don’t go.”
“Sorry kiddo.” She smoothed a hand down Cindy’s hair and smiled at the other two girls. “But it’s time for me to go back to my apartment. I still have some shopping to do so I can live there.”
“Okay, girls, get your coats back on. We’ll take Amy home.”
“No, that’s okay,” Amy said quickly. She edged her way around the girls, keeping as far away from Riley as possible while inching her way toward the front door. “It’s only a few blocks, and the weather’s great. I can walk.”
“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home.”
Ah, saved by the autocratic male. He’d just given her the perfect excuse to make her escape. She stiffened in feigned irritation. “Letting me? I beg your pardon. Nobody lets me do anything. I’m walking home because that’s what I choose to do, thank you very much.”
&nb
sp; She almost made it out the door.
“Amy, are you mad at us?”
“Oh, sweetie, no.” Amy dropped to her knees and held out her arms.
Little Cindy launched herself at Amy’s chest. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Oh, Cindy, it’ll be all right. We’ll see each other again real soon. Thank you for my plant, and for helping me arrange my little tree, and for letting me help trim your tree.”
Cindy heaved a melodramatic sigh, playing her distress to the hilt. “You’re welcome.”
Amy pulled away and waited until Cindy looked up at her. “Are we still friends?”
Cindy finally smiled. “Okay.”
Amy didn’t wait. She said good-bye to the two older girls, then, without looking him in the eye, to Riley. Never had she made such an awkward exit in her life.
Monday morning, little Cindy couldn’t wait for her pre-kindergarten class to be over so she could go across the street to Nana’s. She went to Nana’s every day, but today was special. Today she was bursting to tell Nana all about the presents they took to Amy for her new apartment, and how they helped her arrange her tiny Christmas tree on the pretty tray they gave her, and how she came home with them and helped them decorate their big tree and lifted her in the air to help with the angel, and how they all kissed each other under the mistletoe. It was all so neat and wonderful to Cindy that she wanted to share it with her favorite adult. Well, favorite except for Daddy.
But Nana didn’t act like she cared much. She just frowned and muttered under her breath a lot.
“What’s the matter, Nana? Don’t you feel good?” Cindy asked.
“I feel fine, honey. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to help you trim your Christmas tree.”
“Me, too,” Cindy said. “Then you and Grandpa could have kissed Amy under the mistletoe, too.”
Chapter Seven
Amy was glad that Monday was so busy at the office. Neither she nor Riley had time to say more than ten words to each other, and those were all business.
Tuesday proved more of the same, until four o’clock when Marva and the girls descended on the office with boxes and bags in tow.
Amy was delighted to see the girls, and they her.
Riley and His Girls (Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish) (Mills & Boon Cherish) Page 8
