“I couldn’t,” Sharon Lynn protested.
“Why not?”
“Last-minute invitations are so tacky.”
“Not to someone who’s been waiting and waiting for you to make a move.”
“He probably has plans.”
“Stop making excuses, Sharon Lynn,” Angela chided. “You won’t know unless you call. At least it’ll signal him that you’re interested.”
Her cousin’s expression brightened. “I’m going to do it,” she said, heading determinedly for the privacy of Grandpa Harlan’s office.
“What was that all about?” Clint asked, reappearing with the champagne.
“You didn’t listen in?”
“Of course not. It sounded like private girl talk.”
Amused by his sudden burst of discretion, she said, “It was. I was just trying to shove my cousin off an emotional bridge.”
“Uh-oh,” he said uneasily. “Are you sure there’s going to be somebody underneath to catch her?”
“Pretty sure.”
“What if she gets the wrong answer and it ruins her holidays?”
She scowled at him. “Do you always have to look at the dark side of things?”
“Just being realistic.”
Before Angela could worry herself into a tizzy over having inadvertently set Sharon Lynn up for a miserable holiday, her cousin dashed back into the room, her face aglow.
“He said yes,” she practically shouted across the room. Oblivious to the curious glances from her parents and everyone else, she threw her arms around Angela. “Can you believe it? He said he would love to come. He didn’t even hesitate.”
“Obviously he’d been hoping for this.”
“I was so sure he would have other plans. I know of at least three women in town who have been pursuing him like crazy.”
“Other than you?” Angela teased.
“I have not been pursuing him,” Sharon Lynn protested. “I have been very demure.”
The thought of the exuberant Sharon Lynn as demure was enough to bring a smile, but Angela managed to keep a straight face. “Well, it looks as if that tactic has paid off, then,” she said.
“Thank you for prodding me into doing something, anything, to get this relationship off dead center.”
“Speaking of dead center,” Clint interjected, his hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Could I speak to you for a minute privately, before we go into dinner?”
She stared into his serious eyes and gulped. Either he was going to lecture her on interfering in Sharon Lynn’s life or he had something much more personal in mind. She was well aware of the gaps already created in her defenses after no more than a few minutes in his company. A little time alone and she might as well kiss her resolve goodbye.
“Can’t it wait?”
“Not really.”
She heaved a sigh and gestured toward her grandfather’s office. “Let’s go in there. We’ll be able to hear when the others start into the dining room.”
With Sharon Lynn’s fascinated gaze following them, they slipped away. Clint closed the office door firmly behind them. The soft click of the lock sent goose bumps dancing up her spine.
Vaguely alarmed, her gaze flew to his face. “What on earth was that for?”
“I don’t want to be disturbed. There’s only one way I can think of around here to manage that.”
She instinctively backed up a step. “You’re making this sound awfully serious.”
“It is.”
She saw him reach into his pocket, but even then his intentions didn’t register. Not until he withdrew a small square package wrapped in gold did she begin to get an idea of what was on his mind. If he’d been determined to hit on a surefire way to destroy her resistance, this was it.
Angela swallowed hard and eyed that package as warily as if it were a rattler. “Shouldn’t we wait until morning for presents?” she asked without much hope of him taking the suggestion. Obviously he’d planned the timing of this moment very carefully.
“Not this one,” he insisted, holding it out in the palm of his hand. He grinned at her. “Take it, angel. It won’t bite.”
She plucked it out of his hand as gingerly as if it might explode. She fingered the curling gold ribbon, but made no move to untie it.
“Come on,” he urged. “Open it.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m afraid to,” she admitted candidly.
He regarded her with obvious astonishment. “Why?”
“I don’t think I can explain it.”
“Try.”
“If...” She drew in a deep breath, then tried again. “If it’s what I think it is, it will change things.”
“Forever,” he agreed.
She sighed and closed her eyes. “That’s what I was afraid of. Clint, we just declared a truce. It’s too soon to ask for anything more.”
He regarded her with amusement. “It’s not as if we just met, angel. This day has been a long time coming. Too long, some would say, including you, I thought.”
If only he had done this back in Montana, she thought, then chided herself for being unreasonable. She hadn’t given him a chance to. That didn’t change the fact that it felt all wrong now.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she began.
“Oh, really?” he said wryly. “What am I trying to do?”
“Make things right. Be responsible.”
“And that’s so terrible?”
“Clint, the timing is all off.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, amusement giving way to exasperation.
She struggled for an explanation, but none came to her, none that would make sense to him anyway. “I can’t explain. I’m sorry.” She held out her hand, the unopened present still resting in her palm.
After an endless hesitation, he reached for the package, his disappointment plain. “Maybe you’re right,” he said halfheartedly. “I just thought...”
“I know what you wanted to do,” she said. “And it was a lovely gesture, something I’ll remember every single Christmas Eve as long as I live.” She smiled, a little too brightly, probably. “I’m sure you can get your money back. The stores in Los Pinos have very lenient return policies.”
That familiar headstrong look was back in his eyes. “I’m not taking it back to the store, angel. Just so you know, I’m going to do everything in my power to see that you accept it sooner or later.”
She shuddered at the grim determination in his voice. If only he’d sounded like a man in love, instead of a man on a mission, she thought wistfully. Then it might have been almost impossible for her to say no.
* * *
Clint was disappointed, but not broken by Angela’s refusal to so much as look inside that box, much less accept the proposal he’d been planning all day. Maybe it had been premature. It was just that he was so blasted anxious to get things settled once and for all. He wasn’t used to being so out of control, to having anyone tie him in knots the way she did. He’d hoped to seize control back again.
Which, of course, was exactly the problem. They both wanted to set the ground rules and determine the pace of this relationship. What neither of them seemed willing to admit was that a third person was really in charge, that baby of theirs. If Clint had to hog-tie Angela and drag her in front of a minister, they were going to be man and wife when that baby was born.
As soon as he and Angela had rejoined the others, he realized that he’d made a mistake in asking for that moment alone with her. He should have caught up with her upstairs or waited. Now he’d raised expectations that the two of them would be making an announcement over dinner. He could see the anticipation in Harlan’s eyes and the anxiety in Luke’s and Jessie’s. Jessie’s gaze kept drifting to Angela’s left hand as if she were expecting to see an enga
gement ring there.
“Dinner is ready,” Maritza announced, saving him and Angela from the speculative glances.
“Luke, why don’t you escort your daughter in tonight?” Harlan suggested. “Clint, you take Jessie.”
Clint met Jessie’s eyes and caught the spark of amusement.
“He wants to give me time to cross-examine you,” Jessie said. “Subtlety is not Harlan’s strong suit.”
“You can always ask me anything. I’m an up-front kind of man. It saves wear and tear on the emotions.”
“OK, then. Did you ask Angela to marry you tonight?”
“I did,” he confirmed. “She said no.”
Jessie sighed. “I thought as much. I just don’t understand that daughter of mine. I can see perfectly plainly that she is crazy in love with you. She’s just being stubborn, like a typical Adams. She got a double dose of it, too, with Erik’s genes and Luke’s influence.”
“Being an Adams can’t be all bad,” Clint teased. “You signed on for it twice.”
“True,” she admitted with a rueful grin. “I suppose I’m every bit as stubborn as they are. I hung in there with Luke when he flatly refused to admit how he felt about me. I hope you’ll do the same with Angela.”
“I don’t have a choice. She’s carrying my child.”
Jessie studied him worriedly. “Is that what you’ve been telling her?”
“More or less. Why?”
“Well, no wonder she turned you down,” she said, regarding him with dismay.
“I want that baby of mine to have my name.”
Apparently he’d raised his voice, because several of the others glanced their way.
“My father left us the day I was born,” he said more quietly, but just as fiercely. “I grew up thinking it was my fault he was gone. I will not allow that to happen to a child of mine.”
Jessie rested her hand on his. “I know you mean well. I can see that you’re desperate to do right by your baby, but what about Angela? How do you feel about her?”
As he was about to respond, she silenced him with a touch of her finger against his lips. “Don’t tell me. Tell her.”
The message was plain as day and Clint wondered how he could have been so blind to the obvious up until now. Of course Angela wanted to know how he felt about her. The only trouble was, he wasn’t sure of that himself.
Her betrayal loomed between them and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get beyond it. He was still attracted to her. He still wanted her. He understood the importance of forgiveness, but he wondered if he was capable of it.
He was quiet through most of dinner, wrestling with his conscience and his heart. He could have been eating sawdust for all the attention he paid the meal.
Beside him, Angela was just as quiet. She spoke only when she was asked a direct question, and the others, sensing that she was in turmoil, asked her very little.
Fortunately, the Adamses were a boisterous crowd. They more than made up for the silence of two of the guests. Only when the time came to decorate the tree did they insist on sweeping Clint and Angela into the midst of the activity.
“I’m a little tired,” Angela protested. “I’ll just sit here and supervise.”
“Not a chance,” Justin said, hauling her to her feet. “You’re the only one who likes as many lights as I do. The others would stop after a couple of wimpy strands.”
Clint observed in amusement as Angela and Justin wrapped at least eight strands of brightly colored lights around the tree. Watching them reminded him of her excitement just one year ago when he’d managed to find all those lights for their first tree together.
“Plug it in,” Angela commanded now. When the lights blinked on, her eyes lit up. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s blinding,” Sharon Lynn declared. “We won’t even be able to see to put the rest of the ornaments on.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “OK, OK. Turn ’em off, Justin. Let’s finish decorating before we have the final lighting ceremony.”
Tall and awkward, with the stretched-out lankiness of adolescence, Jordan’s son practically upended the tree as he reached for the plug.
As Clint grabbed the tree and righted it, his gaze caught Angela’s. Suddenly they were connected as surely as if they’d hopped aboard a time travel machine and zoomed back twelve months. He could see the memory in her eyes. Her expression softened, her complexion glowed and her lips curved into the faintest suggestion of a smile. He remembered it all as if it were yesterday.
“Let them finish,” he suggested softly, holding out his hand. “Before one of them tangles a strand of garland around your neck and chokes you.”
“Hey,” Justin protested. “We’re not that clumsy.”
“Couldn’t prove it by me,” Harlan Patrick taunted. “Who dropped one entire box of ornaments when we were carrying them down from the attic?”
Justin shot back a rude remark.
“Maybe I’d better sit down,” Angela said, taking Clint’s outstretched hand.
Though there were plenty of chairs in the room, Clint led her to a love seat so he could sit beside her. As carols played on the stereo and the cousins bickered and laughed, he felt a longed-for contentment steal over him again. When he turned Angela and settled her back against his chest, she didn’t protest. Instead, to his relief, she sighed happily.
“Glad to be home?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “But I miss Montana, too.”
“You do?” Clint asked, surprised by the admission.
“Just the two of us. It was magical.” She gazed up at him, her expression wistful. “I thought we were starting our own traditions.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Who would have thought so much would happen to change everything?”
“It doesn’t have to,” he said. “We can have that again, if we want it badly enough. Do you?”
Before she could answer, they were surrounded by cousins.
“Come on, Angie. You have to put the angel on top of the tree. It’s tradition,” Harlan Patrick said.
She gazed at Clint, her expression clearly torn.
“Go,” he told her. “Traditions are meant to be carried on.”
He sat back and watched as the others handed her the gold and white angel for the top of the tree. She handled the obviously expensive, obviously old angel with such tenderness that it brought an unexpected sting to Clint’s eyes. There had been no such traditions in his family, no such sentiment. His mother had tried, but there were often too many divisions and old hurts to make the holidays anything but stressful. He’d stopped going home after a while.
He watched nervously as Justin helped Angela up the small ladder at the side of the huge tree, then steadied her as she reached for the top branch. She settled the angel firmly in place, then stepped down.
Someone with a magician’s sense of timing turned on the tree lights at precisely the same moment as someone else doused the other lights in the room. There were audible gasps of delight, then applause.
“The best tree ever,” Harlan declared.
“You say that every year, Grandpa,” Justin teased.
“And every year it is the best,” his grandfather retorted. “This year’s best of all because the angel’s back on top.”
Angela stared at her grandfather. “I don’t understand.”
“He wouldn’t let us put it on while you were gone,” Sharon Lynn explained. “He said it was your job.”
“I begged and begged,” Lizzy complained, “but Daddy said we’d just have to wait till you came home again to see the angel back on the tree.”
“Oh, Grandpa,” Angela said, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Now, don’t go getting all weepy on me, girl. You’ll mess up my suit before church,” he protested, looki
ng pleased just the same.
Clint fingered the ring box that was still in his pocket and tried not to feel an overwhelming sense of defeat. How could he compete with this much love, with this family?
He realized then that Angela’s gaze had sought out his. Their eyes met and lingered. His heart thundered in his chest at the desire and longing he thought he saw in her face. For just that instant, anyway, it seemed that no one else in the room mattered.
Possibilities stirred to life again inside him. Confidence soared. He found himself smiling. After all, this was the season of miracles, wasn’t it? She’d said that herself not so long ago. Maybe one really was possible for the two of them.
12
Angela hadn’t been inside a church since she’d left home. It wasn’t that she’d lost her faith; maybe it was just one more act of rebellion. At any rate, when she walked back into the small, candlelit church she’d attended for most of her life, she felt a sense of peace stealing over her. Subconsciously she reached for Clint’s hand. The warmth of his grasp was even more reassuring.
Throughout the familiar Christmas Eve service, she was all too aware of the man beside her, his deep voice blending with hers as they sang the joyous hymns: “Silent Night,” “The First Noel,” “Joy to the World.” Each one brought back memories of past holiday seasons; each one stirred thoughts of one particular Christmas in Montana.
Ever since that moment when their gazes had locked back at White Pines, she had felt as if she and Clint were caught up in a spell. It was as if some unseen hand were drawing them closer and closer, insisting that they search their hearts for answers to the dilemma they faced.
She wanted to love him again, as freely as she had in Montana, without so many complications.
But life was filled with unexpected and unalterable twists and turns. Coping with them, in the end, would make them and their love stronger. She couldn’t go back to being Hattie Jones, no matter how desperately she wanted to recapture that carefree time in her life. She was about to become a mother, with all the responsibilities—and joys—that entailed.
The Heart of Hill Country Page 14
