Christmas in Cold Creek Page 8

  “I don’t think it’s garbage. Not at all! What’s idealistic about wanting to protect the town and the way of life you love? It’s honorable. You’ve tried to build on your parents’ legacy, to keep Pine Gulch a safe place. At heart, you just want to make sure others don’t have to cope with the same pain you and your brothers and sister have to live with. I get it.”

  He gazed at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “You’re as good as any detective.” He sipped at his cocoa, decadently rich. “You’ve definitely got a gift for getting people to reveal things they wouldn’t normally talk about. I never intended to dredge up old history.”

  “I’m sorry if I was probing,” she said, her movements and her tone suddenly stiff.

  He had the oddest feeling he’d offended her somehow. What had he said? He combed through their conversation but didn’t have the first idea what he’d done. “You weren’t probing at all, Becca. That’s not what I meant. I’m the one who mentioned my parents in the first place. I opened the door.”

  On impulse, he reached across the table for her fingers. Where they had been cold from shoveling snow before, her time in the kitchen and holding the mug of cocoa had left them warm, and he slid his thumb across the soft knuckle of her forefinger. “To be honest, if anything, I’m surprised at myself for telling you all the grisly details. It’s a … touchy subject and I usually don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me,” she said solemnly.

  Her fingers trembled a little in his. This close to her, he could see she had a little scar at the corner of her mouth and he wondered where it came from. He very much wanted to kiss her, even though he knew it probably wasn’t very smart. He sensed once his mouth touched hers, he wouldn’t want to stop. He would be perfectly happy to go on kissing her all afternoon while the snow fluttered down outside.

  Any trace of fatigue seemed to have completely left his system. Instead, a fierce hunger settled low in his gut. With a long sigh, he finally surrendered to it, leaning across the table and brushing his mouth against hers.

  She inhaled a sexy little breath at the first touch of his mouth on her warm, soft lips and then she kissed him back. She tasted sweet and rich, intoxicating, with that earthy undertone of cocoa, and he wanted to sink into her and never bother climbing back out.

  Chapter Six

  This couldn’t be happening.

  She couldn’t really be kissing the chief of police in the kitchen of her grandfather’s house while the old refrigerator hummed and the wind blew snow under the eaves.

  No, it was real enough. She seemed hyperaware of each of her senses. The noises of the house seemed magnified, each taste and smell more intense.

  He tasted of cocoa and hot male and he smelled like laundry soap and starch and a very sexy aftershave with wood and musk notes.

  As she had expected, Trace Bowman kissed like a man who knew exactly how to cherish a woman, who would make sure she always felt safe and cared for in his arms. He explored her mouth as if he wanted to taste every millimeter of it and wouldn’t rest until he knew every single one of her secrets.

  What started as just a casual sort of brush of his mouth against hers quickly seemed to ignite until she couldn’t manage to string together any sort of coherent thought except more.

  With their mouths still connected, he pulled her to her feet so that he could tug her closer and he leaned back against her counter, taking her with him. His heat and the strength of him seemed to enfold her and she wanted to stay right here with her arms wrapped around his waist and his mouth licking and tasting her until she could barely stand up.

  She could feel his heartbeat—though perhaps that was hers, racing a mile a minute.

  In her entire life, she had never gone from zero to take-me-now so quickly. She had known, somehow. From that first day, she had guessed that if she ever kissed Trace Bowman it would be an unforgettable experience, a kiss with the power to make her forget everything else except this.

  She had no idea how long they kissed. It might have been days, for all she would have cared. They might have continued indefinitely, except the mantel clock suddenly chimed through the house, yanking her back to her senses.

  She slid her mouth away, nearly shivering at the sudden chill. Calling on every skill at deception she had tried to suppress her entire adult life, she eased back and tried not to reveal that she wanted nothing more than to climb right back into his arms.

  He stared at her, his breathing ragged and his eyes a hazy, hungry green. After a moment, he let out a breath. “Again. Not what I intended.”

  She had kissed men before. Heavens, she’d been nearly engaged three months ago. But she had never been so completely rocked off her foundation by the touch of a man’s mouth on hers.

  Becca swallowed, reminding herself she was a mature woman who had graduated from law school, passed the Arizona state bar, been an associate at an extremely successful real-estate law firm in Phoenix. This was only a kiss. Nothing to leave her reeling and stunned.

  The smart thing to do would be to get out in front of this before she blew the whole thing out of proportion.

  “Was that a just-between-neighbors kiss or a let’s-jump-into-bed-right-this-minute kiss?”

  For an instant, he looked taken aback by her frankness and then he gave a rough-sounding laugh. “If we have to categorize it, why don’t we say it was more a we’ve-got-something-between-us-so-why-don’t-we-just-see-where-this-goes? sort of thing.”

  She was tempted. So tempted. Trace Bowman was the kind of man she had dreamed about since she was old enough to know the difference between real men and her mother’s usual boy toys. Decent and kind, he loved his family, he seemed grounded, he worked hard. Not to mention the minor little fact that he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met and made her forget her own name.

  But she had a million reasons why let’s-see-where-this-goes wasn’t a possibility for her right now. In some ways, she almost would have preferred the let’s-jump-into-bed scenario. Her mind was already there, imagining tangled limbs and hard muscles and toe-curling passion.

  “Look, I appreciate your help with shoveling the snow and the Christmas tree and everything. You’ve been very kind to Gabi and me and I’m grateful. It’s just … to be perfectly honest, I’m just trying to keep my head above water here. Our situation is … complicated. I’m not in a really good place right now for, um, seeing where things go with you right now.”

  She couldn’t gauge his reaction to what she said. Something flashed in his expression but he concealed it quickly and she couldn’t tell if it was hurt or disappointment or neither. Finally he nodded. “Fair enough. Maybe once you’ve had time to settle in a little more, you’ll be more of a mind to stop and look around and enjoy the view.”

  “Maybe,” she said in what she hoped was a noncommittal tone. For just a moment she allowed her mind to imagine how things could be with Trace. More incredible kisses like that. Someone to lean on. Warm feet cuddling with hers on cold December nights.

  Heavenly. If circumstances were different, she would love nothing more. He seemed like the genuine thing, a decent and caring man who wouldn’t walk away at the first sign of trouble. But how could she ever allow herself to be involved with a police officer now when she and Gabi were basically living a lie? Before she could ever be in a relationship with Trace, she would have to tell him the truth about her, about Gabi, about Monica—and if she did that, admitted her deception, she knew Trace would be furious and hurt and wouldn’t want any more delicious let’s-see-where-this-goes kisses.

  The sound of the front door opening and then closing again distracted her from the ache of regret settling somewhere near her heart.

  “Why is there a cop car outside?” Gabi called out from the entry. “Is everything okay? Becca?”

  With an inward cringe, she shot a quick glance at Trace to see if he noticed her �
��daughter” calling her by her first name. His expression was shuttered and expressionless and, again, she couldn’t gauge his reaction.

  Becca quickly straightened her sweater and smoothed a hand over her hair to make sure it wasn’t flying in every direction. “In here, honey,” she called, forcing a smile.

  A moment later, Gabi walked into the kitchen, still wearing her snow-dotted parka and backpack. “Oh,” she exclaimed when she saw Trace, and to Becca’s consternation something that looked suspiciously like guilt flashed in her little sister’s eyes before she blinked it away.

  Oh, Gabi. What are you up to?

  Gabi took in the plate of cookies on the table, the two coffee mugs half-full of cocoa and both of them standing only a foot or so apart, and her eyes narrowed with wary confusion.

  “Hi, Gabrielle.” Trace’s smile could have melted every icicle dripping from the roof. “You’re home from school early, aren’t you? School doesn’t get out for another hour.”

  Gabi took off her beanie with a too-casual shrug that did nothing to alleviate Becca’s worry. “I had a stomachache. I think I just need to lie down.”

  For about a second and a half, Becca was tempted to let her. The whole stomachache thing was an obvious lie but until she could get Trace out of the house, she couldn’t call her sister on it. Whatever trouble she suddenly suspected Gabi might be tangled up in, this was something better handled outside the presence of an entirely too sexy police chief.

  Aware of him watching their byplay with interest, she forced an expression of maternal concern. “Honey, you can’t just leave school like that, especially with all the snow out there. You should have called me so I could come pick you up.”

  “I figured you’d be busy.” Gabi’s gaze shifted from Becca to Trace and back again. “Looks like I was right.”

  She flushed, grateful Gabi hadn’t barged in five minutes earlier. “Did you tell your teacher or anyone else in the office you were leaving?”

  Gabi didn’t say anything and Becca’s stomach twisted. The last thing they needed was trouble at school, any unusual behavior that might raise eyebrows and cause unwanted speculation. Gabi darn well knew they were trying to fly straight in Pine Gulch. Well, mostly straight.

  “I didn’t think about it,” she said defensively. “We had a late-afternoon recess. I went in to go to the bathroom and decided to just grab my backpack and come home. I thought it would be okay. I mean, school was almost over, right? We’re only a few blocks from the school anyway and I just thought it would be faster for me to walk home instead of calling you.”

  She needed to get Trace out of here so she could have a straight conversation with Gabi without the darn chief of police looking on. She let out a breath, hating this tension churning through her. Lies and deception. Her entire life from her earliest memories was a writhing, tangled mess of them and she hated it.

  “I’ll call the school and let them know you’ve come home so they don’t worry about you. We wouldn’t want them reporting you missing to the police or something.”

  She tried to make a joke of it but neither Trace nor Gabi even cracked a smile.

  “Next time, you need to go through the proper channels, okay? I can come to the school to pick you up, no matter what I might be in the middle of doing.” Like kissing the Pine Gulch police chief until she couldn’t think straight.

  “Okay. May I please go to my room to lie down?”

  Definitely un-Gabi-like behavior. She frowned at her sister but didn’t know how to probe while Trace was still there.

  “Yes. It should be warm and toasty up there. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.” She rubbed a hand over Gabi’s hair, a little damp from the snowflakes that had seeped through her beanie.

  “I’m sorry,” Gabi muttered.

  “No worries. I’ll call the school. Go get some rest.”

  The girl escaped quickly and Becca pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She had added Pine Gulch Elementary to her address book when they first moved to town and she found it quickly and dialed.

  “Hello,” she said when the secretary answered. “This is Rebecca Parsons. I’m sorry for the mix-up, but my sis—” She caught herself just in time and didn’t trust herself to look at Trace to see if he’d caught her mistake. “My daughter, Gabrielle, just came home with a stomachache. I’m afraid she walked here on her own without letting her teacher or anyone at the office know.”

  She listened to the secretary’s stern admonitions about following procedures. “Yes, I’ve told her she shouldn’t have left like that. We had a long talk about it and I don’t believe she’ll do it again. I just wanted you to know she is home and safe and will be out for the remainder of the day.”

  “Tell her to drink fluids and get plenty of rest,” the secretary said. “There are some nasty bugs going around right now. We’ve had five children go home sick today.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you, Mrs. Gallegos.”

  She ended the call and turned back to Trace. “Apparently there’s a mini-epidemic at Pine Gulch Elementary School.”

  “Should I be calling in the Center for Disease Control?” He asked the question with a smile that made her heartbeat skip, made her wish she could forget everything and just sink into his kiss once more.

  “I don’t believe so. Good to know it’s an option, though.”

  “Since it looks as if you’ve got your hands full, I’ll take off. Thank you for the cookies and cocoa and … everything.”

  Her mind replayed the heat of his mouth on hers, his body hard and solid, his arms wrapping her close …

  “Thank you for helping me clear the driveway.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m afraid you’re only going to have to head out again in a few hours and do it all over again.”

  Through the kitchen window, she could see big, fluffy flakes slanting past and she sighed. “You know, if I were in Phoenix right now, I wouldn’t have to worry about the snow.”

  Or the ache in her feet from standing all morning in the diner or keeping the power bill paid or how she was going to put food on the table for a growing nine-year-old girl after her mother cleared out her savings and her equity.

  Or sexy, perceptive police chiefs that made her want to throw all her troubles to the wind and jump into his arms.

  “I’m glad you’re not in Phoenix,” he said with a half smile, and despite all the stress and worry and snow, for this moment, she was, too.

  After Trace donned his police-department coat and Stetson again and headed out the door, Becca returned to the kitchen and fixed a tray of saltines and some of the orange-pineapple juice Gabi liked, then headed up the stairs.

  Though there were two other bedrooms besides her own on the main floor, Gabi had chosen a room up here, a small, cramped little space under the eaves with a sharply angled ceiling and dormers at both ends.

  She knocked outside the door and after a long pause, Gabi finally said, “Come in.”

  With her first weekly paycheck from The Gulch, she and Gabi had driven to Idaho Falls where the shopping selection was a little better and purchased a can of pale lavender paint and a cheerful comforter set to make the space more homey.

  Despite those feeble decorating efforts, Gabi hadn’t done anything to put the stamp of her considerable personality in the room. Other than the warm, fluffy comforter and the fresh coat of paint over the tired old beige, the room seemed barren and lifeless.

  Becca understood her sister’s psyche entirely too well. Given her track record with Monica, Gabi didn’t expect to be here long, so why bother trying to make the room feel more like home? Her heart ached for her sister, for all the rooms she had probably settled into, only to be yanked out again when Monica moved on to the inevitable greener pasture.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, setting the small tray on the narrow table beside the bed.

  “Okay.”

  She reached out to feel Gabi’s forehead and wasn’t really surprised when the girl f
linched away from the contact. Gabi didn’t want to let Becca past her defenses any more than she wanted to settle into the house.

  “You don’t have a fever. Not that I’m an expert, you understand, but as far as I can tell you don’t feel warm. Do you think you’re going to be sick?”

  “No. I’m okay now. It was probably just something I ate.”

  Her gaze shifted to the drawer of the bedside table then quickly away again, making Becca wonder if Gabi had perhaps stashed junk food in there and was eating it until she was sick. That was another hallmark of someone with an uncertain childhood—stockpiling food for those times when Monica was too busy with her latest scheme to remember minor little details like feeding her child.

  One part of her wanted to let Gabi keep whatever security measures she needed to feel safe, but this was one of those situations where Becca knew she needed to be the adult, not hearken back to that scared child, tucking a jar of peanut butter and a spoon under her bed, just in case. She resolved to find a moment over the weekend to look through Gabi’s room when she had a chance.

  Not now, though, when Gabi said she had a stomachache.

  “Can I get you anything?” Becca asked.

  “No. I think I’ll just try to finish the book I’m supposed to for my oral report next week and then maybe take a nap.”

  Though she detested her homework, there were moments when Gabi sometimes acted more like a particularly responsible college student than a nine-year-old. Becca still found them unnerving.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on with Gabi, that the girl was perhaps in some kind of trouble. She wasn’t great at reading her sister but there was an air of suppressed excitement about Gabi underneath her mien of solemn illness. Becca’s early years with Monica had left her rather good at sensing subtexts and layers. It had also taught her the futility of fighting a losing battle. Right now, Gabi seemed completely closed off to her.

  “Does anything sound good to you for dinner?”