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  She nodded. “I know.” She had a vague idea, because she loved all of the kids that came through her kindergarten class. She felt invested in them, in their futures, but she knew it wasn’t the same as the kind of love a parent felt. Where every worry, every responsibility, rested squarely on you.

  Suddenly, she felt a strong, intense need to feel it. To know what it meant to love like that. To have love like that. To belong to a family.

  A real one. Not the cold, sparse upbringing she’d had.

  “You know,” she said, “you might not feel like love is enough, but . . . my grandmother was punctual. She always got me from school on time and got me out the door on time. She dressed me neatly, and she was an incredible cook. But she didn’t love me. At least, if she did, she didn’t show it. She didn’t have any warmth to her. Any give. She was so angry all the time. So stiff and cold. She took care of me, but she didn’t make me feel loved. And I missed that, Walker. I still miss it, every day of my life. And maybe Kayla will be late for school, or you’ll be late to get her, but when she’s grown and she looks back on her life, she won’t remember those days. She’ll remember what it was like when you hugged her. Just like I remember every hug I ached for, but didn’t get.”

  He sat up, his dark eyes fierce. “She didn’t hug you?”

  “No.”

  “She made you afraid of sex, your body, your own desires. Made you feel like there was something wrong with you. And on top of all that she never even hugged you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Sarah,” Walker said, his voice ragged, “I’m going to hug you now.”

  And then he was hugging her, crushing her to his chest, his skin hot and bare and sexy. It wasn’t an easy friendship hug, which she got often enough from her friend Lucy, or one of those little half hugs that touchier people seemed to be inclined to give on greeting you. It was something fierce and tender at the same time, gentle and rough.

  It was everything she’d ever craved in a hug. But it was even more. Because it was Walker. And he smelled like spice and skin, sweat and sex. She never wanted him to let her go. Ever. And just then, the full feeling in her chest didn’t scare her. The need to have him forever didn’t seem frightening. Because it felt too right.

  She clung to him, her fingers curled into his shoulders, her face buried in the curve of his neck. She was falling in love with this man. This wounded, ridiculous man who hadn’t even wanted to tell her how old he was.

  This man who was giving everything to raising his child. This man who’d had his heart broken so badly.

  In this moment, she could almost believe there was hope for them. She could almost believe he felt something too. That she wasn’t alone in this feeling.

  He released his hold on her, his hands bracketing her face, his eyes intent on hers. The expression on his face was one of wonder, then, suddenly, fear. Then he looked away, took a deep breath, and let her go. And she felt his absence so sharply it was near pain.

  “You should go,” he said.

  She nodded, feeling numb. “Yeah, I know.”

  And this time, he didn’t get up and get dressed. He didn’t walk her out. He rolled over and closed his eyes like she was already gone.

  ***

  “Sarah!”

  Sarah turned around just in time to see a loosely packed snowball sailing toward her, shedding snowflakes as it flew and hit her in the thigh. Kayla grinned, impish and gleeful.

  It was the first time Sarah had seen her look so happy. Part of her knew that she shouldn’t encourage Kayla to call her by her first name. Knew that she should try and keep some distance. Keep it like a teacher and a student. She wasn’t Walker’s girlfriend; she wasn’t potential stepmother material.

  But she wanted to be. That was the bottom line. The longer she spent in this house, the longer she spent with Kayla, the longer she spent in Walker’s bed, the more she wanted this to be her life. The more she wanted this to be her family.

  But Walker was clearly not on board with the idea. There had been no more talking and sharing during their nights together. And no more hugging. Kissing, yes. Sex, yes. But not hugging. No more tenderness, no more sweet understanding.

  No. Walker had put a moratorium on the feelings.

  Too bad she still felt them. Too bad she couldn’t just turn them off, even though she knew they were utterly futile.

  She got hit with another snowball, this one on her stomach, and she looked at her attacker. “You’re in big trouble, young lady.”

  Kayla looked nervous for a second. “I am?”

  “Yes, because I have an excellent snowball arm.” She’d thrown snowballs exactly once in her life. She’d gone outside on a Saturday morning, in a skirt and a heavy woolen coat, black tights covering her legs, and played with some of the neighborhood boys. They’d chased each other, and they’d thrown snow, and made snow angels.

  Until her grandmother had found her.

  Young ladies don’t behave that way. And they certainly don’t play with boys without proper supervision.

  She shook her head and dismissed the memory. That didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been allowed to play then. She was allowed to now. Because she made her own choices. Because she could have the life she wanted, if she would just aim for it.

  Right now, she would settle for aiming at Kayla’s shoulder, very gently. She threw a ball of loosely packed snow at the little girl, who shrieked and ran out of Sarah’s throwing range to gather more snow.

  “What’s going on?”

  Walker was standing in the distance, looking like spilled ink on the snow, dressed all in black, from his hat down to his boots.

  “I’m getting Sarah!” Kayla said, laughter making each word jiggle.

  “I got her back,” Sarah said as Kayla ran up on her and flung another snowball at her.

  Walker bent down and started slowly forming snow into a tightly packed ball. “Walker,” Sarah said, her tone warning.

  “Looks like fun,” he said, smiling in a way that spelled doom for her. Complete and total doom.

  “Have mercy,” she said.

  “There is no room for mercy in times of war, Miss Larsen,” he said, cocking his hand back, his expression downright wicked. And then she was hit with a hard-packed ice ball that exploded against her well-cushioned shoulder, right on her down coat. The snow sprayed up onto her face and she sputtered, melted droplets running down her neck, under her jacket and scarf.

  She shook her fist at him. “You fiend!”

  “You’re hit!” he shouted back.

  Kayla laughed and Sarah staggered forward, falling to her knees for maximum drama. “I’m mortally wounded. Avenge me, Kayla!”

  Kayla flung snow at her father, who promptly rushed her and grabbed her, flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a smile on the little girl’s face. “I win,” he said.

  “You cheated,” Sarah said.

  “How?”

  “You play dirty! If I’d been packing my snowballs like that, I could have done serious damage. But you ambushed us.” She stood up and brushed the snow from her knees. “And I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to pick your enemies up.”

  “What, this?” he asked, indicating Kayla. “Prisoner of war.”

  “I am not!” Kayla said.

  “Fine then, a prisoner of dinnertime. Why don’t we go in and wash up? I can make you some cocoa.”

  He set his daughter down and she ran for the porch, her boots clomping on the deck. Sarah was still grinning when she looked back at Walker, and their eyes clashed. And something on his face changed. From happy and light to heavy and closed-off in a split second.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m holding leg irons. I’m going to be nice to Kayla when I’m with her, and it’s inevitable I’ll get close to her, but I’m not planning on trapping you, Walker, so please don’t look at me like I am.”
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  “That isn’t what I was thinking.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Go in the house.”

  “Maybe I’ll go home.”

  “You won’t.”

  She crossed her arms and cocked out her hip. “Oh, really?”

  He took her arm and hauled her against him, dropping a hard, short kiss on her lips. “You want me too much,” he said.

  “I . . . I could go to a bar and pick up someone else,” she said, biting her lip, the cold stinging her skin. “I’m good at it.”

  “You suck at it. I didn’t take you back to my hotel room because your pick-up lines screamed that you were the hottest lay. And your clothes were ridiculous.”

  “Then why did you take me back to your room?”

  He shook his head. “Damned if I know, Sarah, but I couldn’t leave you there either.”

  “Is that supposed to be flattering?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s the truth.”

  “Well, there’s that, I guess.”

  He let out a long, slow breath, and it lingered in the air like smoke. “Sarah, I can’t explain why I wanted you, because I hadn’t wanted a woman in a long time. Sex seemed like way too much work to me after going through what I did with my wife. But I saw you there, and you offered me your whiskey while looking like the most timid little mouse I’ve ever seen. And then I asked you to dance and you didn’t run. Far from it—you propositioned me. I couldn’t say no to that, and . . . I didn’t want to.”

  Warmth bloomed in her cold cheeks, beneath the surface of her chilled skin. “So you . . . wanted me even though you could tell I wasn’t . . . good at all that?”

  “I could tell you weren’t a pro at it, but I was pretty sure you’d be good.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Just expected it, considering how hot you made me from the moment you offered me your drink. I hate to disappoint you, darlin’, but the Sunday church dress you were wearing wasn’t doing it.”

  “Oh.”

  “You took your clothes off and made me think I ought to burn that dress because it was hiding all your beauty.”

  Sarah’s throat tightened and she could feel tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. Stupid tears that she couldn’t go shedding because it would betray the fact that what she felt for Walker was so much deeper than sex. And then he really would see visions of her standing there with leg irons.

  She had feelings for Walker, yes, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that he’d return them.

  She curled her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. No, Walker couldn’t love a woman like her, and why would he? He might be attracted to her, and that in and of itself was a shock. But he’d lived life. And he’d been burned by it. She was just sort of emerging from her shell, a little bird with wet feathers who didn’t know how to fly yet.

  For both of their sakes, she had to get her feathers dry and learn how to leave the nest, so to speak. She didn’t need to attach herself to someone else. Someone else’s life and expectations.

  Anyway, he wouldn’t want her to.

  So, there was that settled. No love business or anything remotely resembling it.

  “Thanks for that,” she said. “I’m pretty thrilled you like the way I look without clothes on, actually.”

  “I know it.”

  “I’m pretty fond of you naked too.”

  “High praise.”

  “Well, yes, all things considered. I was sort of brought up to fear penises, so I found it a refreshing surprise that I actually think they’re rather enjoyable.”

  He laughed, each note of it punctuated by a puff of frozen air. “I’m glad you’ve found my penis enjoyable.”

  “Oh, gosh, yes. More than. Aesthetically, athletically . . .”

  “Athletically?”

  “It’s kind of a workout, actually.”

  “I think that’s why they call it the devil’s cardio.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “They do not call it that. If they did, my grandma would have. And I most definitely would have heard it.”

  “As in, beware the devil’s cardio for it will give you the abs of hell?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  They smiled and their eyes met—another companionable moment. Two in a very short space of time. It was enough to make a girl forget herself completely.

  “Dinnertime,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Kayla will wonder what became of us.”

  “So you’ll stay?”

  She should say no. She really should. She should walk away now while she could do it without being wholly devastated. She should recognize the fact that she was being stupid and predictable and falling for her first lover when that wasn’t what she wanted at all.

  She should walk away and leave him to an empty bed and go back to her own. Do what she should have already done: consign him to the bin of new experiences had and be done with him.

  But instead she nodded. “Yes, Walker, I’ll stay.”

  And then, after her traitorous mouth spoke those words, her traitorous feet carried her to the house and inside. Another night playing at a strange version of family. Sitting around the dinner table with him and Kayla. Sneaking up to his room when Kayla was in bed and letting him make love with her, hold her until both of them were on the verge of sleep.

  A window into a life she wasn’t sure she could ever have. At least not with Walker. Not with Kayla.

  It was heartbreaking, painful. She knew she should stop it. But she didn’t have the strength to walk away. And she didn’t have the courage to name the feeling that was pounding through her, in her.

  Because if she acknowledged how deeply she felt for him, she really would be in trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  “I don’t know if we’re getting a Christmas tree,” Kayla said, looking down into her cereal with a grumpy expression on her face.

  “Did your dad say that?” Sarah asked.

  “He said he didn’t know if he had time.”

  “Well . . . that’s not right. We can make time. I’m sure we can.” If nothing else, she could get the tree and Walker could decorate it in the evening with Kayla. But there was no reason for them not to go get one. In fact, she was pretty sure she could get John, who owned Silver Creek’s mercantile, to bring one from his store if she played her cards right.

  It was a bold move for her, but darn it, she was feeling bold lately. She’d gone shopping and gotten some sexier panties the other day, and they just made her feel different. She was a new woman beneath her clothes, and this woman was an action taker. She wasn’t going to wait for permission to get things done.

  She was going to get Kayla her Christmas tree. “Yes,” she said again, “we can absolutely get a tree.”

  This earned her a “Yay!” and a big smile from Kayla. Sarah smiled and picked up her phone, putting in a quick call to John. With any luck, by the time Walker got home they would have a tree to decorate.

  ***

  It looked like Rudolph had vomited on his porch. That was Walker’s first thought when he got home that evening. There were white icicles hanging from the roof, with white and red striped lights wrapped around the support beams.

  And there was a fresh wreath on the door.

  He just stopped, standing there in the snow like an idiot, staring at the decorations, his heart frozen with the rest of him. It was a moment out of time, a taste of life as it should have been. Not a memory; better than the memories of his life at the holidays with a wife.

  This felt so right for a moment that it damn near knocked him to his knees. And then—then he felt angry. Because this wasn’t reality. It wasn’t Sarah’s job, it wasn’t her place, to take his house and put her stamp on it.

  To take Christmas and wrap herself around it like tinsel. Wrap herself around his life that way. All glittery and decorative. And bright. So damn bright. She was l
ike a shot of glitter into his surroundings, and he knew it wasn’t going to last. But Kayla didn’t.

  He stomped up the porch steps and into the house, gritting his teeth, twisting his face into a scowl. He pushed the door open and then froze.

  It smelled like apples and cinnamon, and there was mistletoe in the entryway to the living room. And there Kayla and Sarah were, sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes, a tree behind them, rich, green and bare of decorations.

  “You’re home!” Kayla shot up from where she was sitting and raced across the room to give him a hug. “I was so sad because we didn’t have a tree, and I told Sarah you said we didn’t have time, but Sarah got a nice man to come and bring all of the stuff, and then I helped her find our old decorations.”

  “Really?” he asked, his throat tight.

  “I just thought it wasn’t right for you to not have a tree,” Sarah said, standing up. “Do you want some cider? It’s in the slow cooker.”

  “Oh, why not?” he grumbled, kicking his boots off and going into the living room.

  Sarah walked into the kitchen and he followed her. “Why are you so grumpy?” she asked, whirling around to face him when they were out of earshot of the living room.

  “What do you mean why am I grumpy? Give me some cider.”

  She grabbed a mug and ladle and held them against her chest. “I don’t know if you deserve any, Mr. Bah Humbug.”

  “Cute. But you look like you just opened the Silver Creek location of Santa’s Workshop, so excuse me if I’m a little surprised.”

  She scowled and ladled cider into the mug, handing it to him and crossing her arms, her expression dark. “Well, your daughter wanted a Christmas tree, so I wanted to make sure she got one. Your panic seems a little overboard, considering it’s over twinkle lights.”

  “Unauthorized twinkle lights.”

  “Oh . . . good heavens, Walker, take the stick out of your butt.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Did you just say . . .”

  She crossed her arms, her lips turning down. “Yes. Yes I did. You’re acting like you . . . have one up there. Your daughter wanted Christmas to look familiar and it didn’t, and I went out of my way to make sure she had some cheer. I don’t think that merits being on the receiving end of your angry eyebrows.”