1420135090 (R) (5 page)

So help her, she would get a real tree for Christmas, even if she had to borrow a saw, wade through the snow, and cut one down herself!

Muriel had rescued the spoon and was rinsing it off in the sink. “I still can’t believe you had the bad luck to wreck the cowboy’s motorcycle,” she said. “Was he mad?”

Kylie shuddered. “He was livid. After we discovered we knew each other, he did his best to calm down. But according to Henry, he’s still angry—and I can’t say I blame him. I ruined one of his most precious possessions.”

“You say you knew each other?”

“That’s right. We went through school together, all the way from kindergarten to twelfth grade. Shane was always skating the edge of trouble. In high school, I remember him ditching class to go roaring off on that old bike.” And she remembered how she’d ached to ride behind him, her arms around his waist, holding him tight as her hair bannered behind her in the wind. Sometimes he took girls on his bike—girls who were reputed to be wild and fast. But he never took her.

“You were valedictorian, as I recall,” Muriel said.

“And Shane managed to graduate by the skin of his teeth. He was smart as a whip, but he was bored with school. All he wanted was to get out of Branding Iron and see the world.” Kylie carried two extra bowls and plates to the table for the men. With Shane there, she wouldn’t have much of an appetite, but she owed it to Muriel to put on a good face.

“Knowing how much he wanted to leave, I was surprised to see Shane was still in town,” she said.

Muriel lifted the pot of stew off the hot burner. “Well, dear, sometimes family duty trumps selfish wishes. He’s done a fine job of running the ranch for his father all these years.”

Kylie wanted to bite her tongue. Shane and Muriel had made similar sacrifices—giving up whatever dreams they’d had to stay home and carry on for ailing parents. Who was she to sit in judgment?

The sound of boots stamping off snow on the back porch broke into the conversation. The door opened far enough to admit Henry, then Shane, who was gripping the knob to keep the wind from blasting it out of his hand. Wrapped in a thick sheepskin coat with the collar turned up to his ears, snowflakes glimmering in his dark, tousled hair, his face ruddy from the cold . . . Kylie stifled a groan. Muriel’s cowboy neighbor looked as delectable as a hot-fudge sundae with sprinkles.

She was long since over Shane, of course. He’d been nothing more than a one-sided high-school crush. But heaven help her, the man was still an eyeful!

Tearing her gaze away, she moved the stew pot off the stove and ladled the stew into a big serving bowl. It looked and smelled delicious, but Amy and Hunter were already rolling their eyes and wrinkling their noses. If her finicky children hurt Muriel’s feelings, there would be words later on.

After Shane was introduced to Kylie’s children, he and Henry hung their damp coats over the backs of the chairs and went to the half bath off the kitchen to wash up. By the time they came back, the meal was on the table, ready to eat.

“Thanks, Muriel.” Shane took his seat, his tall frame dwarfing the small, crowded kitchen table. “I’ve been hankering for some of your beef stew and biscuits. Just right for a cold night like this.”

Muriel flushed at his praise. “Same old thing I’ve always made,” she said. “Eat up. There’s plenty.”

Hunter was reaching for a hot, golden biscuit when Henry stopped him with a stern look. “Wait till we’ve said grace, young man.”

Hunter and Amy looked startled. Brad hadn’t been a religious man, and their eat-and-run California lifestyle hadn’t included a prayer before meals. One more thing that would take some getting used to.

“Would you say it, please, Henry?” Muriel asked.

Henry nodded. As he bowed his head, Muriel reached out to join hands with the children, who sat on either side of her. Unused to the custom, but sensing they should follow along, Amy and Hunter reached for the hands on either side—Henry’s and Shane’s. Kylie had taken the last empty chair, between the two men. One hand slipped lightly into Henry’s work-roughened palm. Her other reached toward Shane.

Their fingers brushed and fumbled. Then his big, leathery hand, still chilled from the cold, closed around hers. Tingles of awareness swept through her body. After all the teenage fantasies that had begun with Shane taking her hand, she’d never expected it to happen under these circumstances. The contact of skin to skin sent her pulse skittering. This was crazy. She was a grown woman, a widow with children, not a silly schoolgirl.

Henry’s mumbled prayer was mercifully brief. As the hushed “amen” echoed around the table, Shane’s clasp loosened and Kylie pulled her still-tingling hand away. Amy and Hunter were already grabbing for the fluffy golden biscuits, ignoring the stew Muriel had ladled into their bowls. A lesson in manners would be in order before the next meal.

“That’s more than your share, Hunter,” she admonished her son as he reached for a third biscuit. “Leave enough for the others. If you’re hungry, eat more of this delicious stew.”

Hunter poked at a carrot slice with his spoon, wrinkled his nose, then lifted a small chunk of beef to his mouth and chewed it as if he expected some kind of trick. “Not too bad,” he pronounced.

“ ‘Not too bad’?” Shane raised an eyebrow. “If you ask me, Muriel’s the best darned cook in the county. Isn’t she, Henry?”

“Far as I know.” Henry bit into a buttered biscuit.

“I’m hoping she’ll give me a few lessons,” Kylie said. “I’ve got a lot to learn about that temperamental old stove.”

“Once you know what to expect from it, you’ll be fine, dear.” Muriel glanced around the table. “Cowboy, I was so sorry to hear about your motorcycle. I know you loved that old bike.”

“Can’t undo what happened.” Shane’s face was a stoic mask. “All we can do is try to fix it.”

“And what if it can’t be fixed?” Muriel persisted, heedless of Kylie’s unease.

He shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

Kylie shrank in her chair. All she wanted right now was to slide under the table and disappear. But she had no choice except to sit here and endure the cold anger that radiated from Shane’s powerful body—the anger he couldn’t quite manage to hide.

They ate in silence for a few moments; the children were picking the meat out of the stew and leaving the vegetables, Shane spooning up his stew as if he couldn’t wait to finish and leave. Outside, the howling storm battered the windows.

“How were the roads, Shane?” Kylie spoke into the awkward hush. “Did you have any trouble getting back from town?”

“It was tough going after the front came in. But as you can see, I made it this far. So I guess I can make it home from here. Mighty grateful for the good supper, Muriel.” He pushed back his chair and stood. Tired shadows framed his dark eyes. “Guess I’d better be on my way.”

“Wait!” Amy hadn’t said a word during the meal, but now she almost jumped out of her chair. “You might know this. Where can we get a real Christmas tree around here? Is there a farm or someplace that sells them—or a forest, where we can go cut one down?”

Shane ran a hand through his damp hair. A weary look passed across his face. Kylie sensed that all he really wanted was to get out of here and get home. But at least he seemed to be thinking about his answer.

“I’ll check around,” he said. “But nothing’s going to happen till this storm clears, so don’t get your hopes up. Okay?”

Amy’s expression drooped. “Okay. But do you promise you’ll check?”

“If there’s anything to check.” He shrugged into his sheepskin coat and fastened a couple of buttons. “I’ll be back in the morning to start on the bike, Henry. Thanks again.”

“Be careful going home,” Henry said. “It’s bad out there. You could freeze if you get stuck in that storm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Shane turned up his collar; then he opened the door and forced it shut as he stepped into the wind.

Shane trudged head forward, pushing his way through blinding snow that was already deep enough to fall inside his boot tops. The roads would be a mess tonight, but they’d be even worse later on. If he was going to be snowed in somewhere, he needed to be home.

He’d left the truck under the overhang of the shed, where it would be protected from the worst of the storm. But as he battled his way across the yard, he realized he was moving by rote, finding his way only because he knew it so well. In the snow-filled dark, he could barely see his hand in front of his face.

He ran into the truck almost before he saw it. But once he’d moved under the overhanging roof, his vision cleared some. The snow on the sheltered windows needed only a light brushing to clear them before he climbed inside, shifted gears, and started the engine. The truck swung out of the shed, grinding forward a dozen feet before it lost momentum and stopped, wheels spinning in the snow.

He was stuck. And even if he could go forward, there was no way he’d be able to find the road. The truck’s headlights reflected on a wall of swirling snowflakes. Whether he liked it or not, the only safe place to go was back inside the house—with Kylie Summerfield Wayne and her two sullen, prepubescent kids. He climbed out of the truck and closed the door. It was going to be a long night.

The storm’s howl had risen to a shriek. Snowflakes spattered like buckshot against the house. Peering through the window toward the lane that led to the road, Kylie watched for the red taillights of Shane’s departing truck. But as the minutes crawled past, she could see nothing except the white blur of driving snow against the dark.

“I don’t like this,” she murmured, half to herself.

“I don’t, either.” Henry stood behind her. “There’s no way he’s going to get home in this. Got a flashlight, Muriel?”

“Right here.” Muriel, who’d been clearing the table, opened a drawer and passed him the flashlight she found. Henry turned it on and checked the brightness. He’d just started for the door when it flew open and would’ve crashed against the wall if Henry hadn’t stopped it. Shane staggered inside, his hair and coat layered with snow.

“Total whiteout, and it’s getting deeper by the minute.” Even the stubble along his jaw was coated. “I made it halfway across the yard and had to leave the truck because I couldn’t see past the front bumper. Sorry, Muriel, but it looks like I’ll have to stick around till it clears. If you’ve got a rag or a handy mop, I’ll soak up the snowmelt.”

His coat was already steaming in the warm kitchen. He hung it over the back of a chair, caught the old towel Muriel tossed him, and laid it on the floor to catch the dripping snow.

“No way you’ll be getting out of here till morning, Cowboy,” Muriel said. “You might as well plan to spend the night.”

Kylie did some fast thinking. The four-bedroom house would’ve had plenty of room for a guest before she showed up with Hunter and Amy. Now the rooms were full, and Henry’s small trailer had only one bed.

“Shane can have my room,” she said. “I’ll share with Amy for the night.”

“I won’t put you out.” Shane sank onto a kitchen chair and began working off his wet cowboy boots. “I’ll just crash on the couch for a few hours. That way, if the storm lets up in the night, I can leave and not bother a soul. I’ve got animals to tend, and I need to make sure the pipes won’t freeze in the house. I’ll be needing to get home.”

“If that’s what you really want, I’ll get you a quilt and a pillow,” Muriel said.

“We can’t go to bed yet!” Amy turned away from stacking the dishes in the sink. “My TV show starts at eight. Can I watch it, Mom? See, I’ve been helping.”

Amy’s favorite TV show, about two teen girls solving crimes, was one of the few things she still had to look forward to. “Is it all right?” Kylie glanced at Muriel.

“Of course, dear. Maybe I’ll watch it, too,” Muriel said.

“Stupid show.” Hunter glanced up from his phone. “Stupid baby show.”

“It is not!” Amy turned on him. “It’s better than those dumb video games you play.”

“I can’t play them here! I can’t do anything here! And I don’t have any friends! I hate this place!”

“That’s enough, Hunter.” Kylie was on her feet, snatching the phone out of his hand. “We’ll talk about your getting this back after you’ve washed the dishes.”

“That’s not fair!” Hunter stormed. “I never had to wash dishes back home.”

“That’s because we had a dishwasher. But this is a different place and we all need to help out. Now get moving!”

Scowling, Hunter shuffled to the sink and began running hot water into the dishpan. Muriel stood by to give him a few pointers. Henry, still standing near the door in his coat, shuffled his feet.

“Well, since I planned to watch the basketball game, I’ll be going,” he said. “Come watch it with me if you want, Shane. I’ve got beer in the fridge.”

Kylie saw Shane hesitate. “Thanks, Henry. I’d enjoy that, but with that storm out there and no place to sleep in your trailer, I’d better stay put.” He stood. “I’ll come out on the porch to see that you make it across the yard. Take the flashlight and wave it when you get to your door. That way I’ll know you’re safe.”