A Christmas to Believe In (27 page)

the family room. "By the way. Don't let Alex's legal stuff get

to you. He means well."

Satisfied he'd done everything he could to make Keeley's

homecoming more comfortable, he mounted the stairs to

retrieve his wallet. Now, if his evening with Jesse would go so

smoothly, today might not turn out half-bad.

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Jesse smoothed her hair with her hands and stepped

through her dinner in her head. Stuffed pork chops cooking,

asparagus frying, and in the fridge waited a Tippins coconut

cream pie that she'd picked up on her way home—Clint's

favorite. Hers too, for that matter.

She glanced at the clock. 5:20. He ought to be here soon.

Surveying her childhood home, she took in the bright

lights, the colorful decorations, and the small armful of

presents she'd tucked beneath the tree. Would Clint still

rummage under her tree in search of what lay there for him

and his brothers? She giggled to herself. He wouldn't find his

there. Not this year. The horse he needed wouldn't fit.

Restless, she milled about, alternately straightening

pillows, rearranging magazines, and checking on their dinner.

When she stopped to turn the asparagus, the door opened.

Her heart jumped to life. A smile broke free.

She turned around to say hello, and that moment, as she

watched him strip off his coat, something deep inside her did

a long slow roll. He wore a deep green sweater that hugged

his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Khaki trousers left

plenty of room in the leg for comfort, but accented tight

buttocks. There was nothing outlandish, nothing particularly

special about his clothes. The man knew how to dress.

"Hey there."

His low greeting snapped her out of her trance. She

blinked, refocused, and noted the boots he held in his hand.

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Catching the path of her wandering eyes, he lifted the heavy

lace-ups higher. "I need to check on Angel. Do I have time

before we eat?"

"Of course."

He crossed the room, a bottle of chilled wine in hand. As

he pressed it into hers, he bent over and kissed her softly. "It

smells good. I'll hurry back."

"Wait. Let me put this in the fridge. I'd like to help." She

hesitated with a slight frown. "If you'll teach me."

"There's not a lot I can easily explain in this short trip, but

I'll give it a shot."

Jesse hurried to put the wine away. Boots donned, Clint

waited. She shrugged into her coat, fitted her hand into his

larger one and followed him out the door.

Clint met Jesse's gaze over his mare's back. "Now fit that

tab into the closure on the back."

When she did, she brought her hands up and smoothed

out Angel's winter blanket. "That was easy enough." She

worked her fingertips through Angel's mane, tipped her head

as she ran a palm down the mare's wide blaze.

"Horses are easy once you figure out the basics. At least

the management aspect."

Ducking under Angel's neck, Jesse snuggled into his side.

He draped an arm around her, dipped his head to breathe in

the flowery aroma of her shampoo. Jesse learned fast. She

didn't fear the horses, didn't hesitate to step up and just do.

"How'd the test come out?"

He shook his head. "No change. Still in the same spot we

were yesterday, thank God."

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"Good. Maybe she'll hold on until New Year's." Rising to

tiptoe, Jesse kissed him softly. "Let's eat. I'm sure dinner's

ready by now."

"I can't think of a better idea." Well, he could. But that

would come later. No need to rush things now. Jesse put work

into a meal, and he damn sure intended to enjoy the whole

evening, not just the blissful moments between her sheets.

She linked her elbow through his and nudged him toward

the house. All too anxious to get in out of the cold, he hurried

back inside. While Jesse hurried to the kitchen, he bent over

to exchange them for his more comfortable loafers. Rising, he

surveyed the room.

Every decorated wall, every unadorned corner, breathed

the subtle life that came with family. Jesse had taken her

childhood home and made it hers. Where the pictures of her

had hung on the wall near the stairs, she'd replaced them

with shots of Ethan. She incorporated a few of her mother's

treasures, like the color scheme, the oil painting of an English

countryside estate.

This was her home. A solid monument to everything that

mattered in her world and a testament to the futility of their

relationship. He couldn't return to Missouri, and she'd never

leave here. Hell, he couldn't even consider asking. Knowing

her, she would, and that would only build resentment as time

passed.

Tendrils of melancholy fingered at his mind, and Clint

shoved them away with force. To block their undesirable

return, he crossed to Jesse's stereo and flipped through the

stations, settling on the local Holiday station. A little caroling

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would put him in the mood. Remind him this was Christmas,

and whatever else came after didn't matter.

When he turned around, Jesse had dinner waiting on the

table and a pair of tall red tapers lit. She extended the

corkscrew, motioned at the bottle of wine. "Will you?"

He did.

He filled their glasses, then sat down at her side. "Jesse,

this looks amazing."

"It was pretty simple. But I do have dessert."

He cut off a portion of his pork chop and chewed. Rich

flavor soaked into his tongue, fringed with a touch of fragrant

rosemary. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. Man, Jesse

could cook. He'd never again find himself staring into the

freezer, debating over pizza rolls or Hot Pockets with her in

the house.

Flinching, he stopped the thought. What the heck was

wrong with him? He knew damn good and well there would be

no Jesse in his house. His brain just refused to listen to

reason.

"So what do you think of Keeley?" she asked.

Good. A safe subject. He let go of the misplaced fantasies

in his head and focused on a rational conversation. "You

know, I hate to say it, but I like her."

Delicate dark eyebrows shot skyward. "Really?"

"Yeah. She's smart. Funny. You two would get along real

well."

"I doubt that." Her indigo eyes flashed as they narrowed.

Resisting the urge to chuckle at her obvious jealousy, Clint

reached into her lap and plucked up her hand. He brought it

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to his mouth. "Sweetheart, I think your position in this family

is pretty unshakeable."

Telltale crimson stained her cheeks as she tugged her

fingers free. "Oh, all right. So I'll admit it—I don't want her

around because you three are mine."

"We'll always be yours, Jesse. You've got thirty-five years

on Keeley."

"True," she agreed sulkily. With a perturbed mutter, she

tried to hide a smile. It pulled at the corners of her eyes,

however, and made one side of her mouth twitch. "I should

have anticipated you'd like her."

"Why? I certainly didn't expect to."

Jesse gave him a look that said she questioned his sanity.

"Because you're a King. Because you're just like your dad,

Clint."

His bite of asparagus lodged in his throat. He grabbed at

his wine, forcing the bite down with a long swallow. She had

to quit saying things like that. If she didn't, he'd start to

believe it. And he was so far removed from being the man his

father had been, it was shameful.

"He didn't know a stranger. Always made room in his heart

for others. If they were family...he'd have gladly died for any

one of you."

He frowned at Jesse, not at all pleased with her all too

correct assessment. Damn it, he couldn't hide from her. She

knew him too well. Even when he tried, he failed miserably.

Like yesterday. He'd tried to disguise the emotion that

clogged up his heart. She saw through him, drew it out, and

turned it into something beautiful.

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Keeley was another instance of how well Jesse understood

him. Alex and Heath would give him a ration of grief over

warming up to their half-sister. Heath was suspicious of her

motives, Alex hadn't yet accepted Keeley was blood, period.

But Jesse didn't scold. Didn't lecture on the reasons he ought

to keep the woman at bay. She accepted his decision.

It was almost terrifying how she believed in him. If her

support didn't fill him with such incredible feeling, he'd have

run far away. Though he hadn't bolted yet, the emotions she

stirred were enough to leave his breath a bit shaky. Strangely

pleasant. A little like looking up at a roller coaster's hill and

knowing the rapid descent would churn a stomach, but at the

same time unable to stop climbing onboard.

"So anyway," he steered the conversation back around. "I

think you'd like Keeley."

"Probably. Just not ready to meet her yet. I will, I'm sure."

Jesse leaned back in her chair and sipped from her

wineglass. Coconut cream pie was a hit, as anticipated, and

Clint picked at the last of the crumbs from his second slice.

She'd forgotten how cozy it could feel to cook for a man. A

good eight years had passed since she'd enjoyed a private

dinner for two. Clint, however, had her seeing a string of

many dinners just like this.

What she'd give for that fantasy to come true.

"That was delicious, Jesse. Want me to help with the

dishes?"

She glanced at the stack of dishes near the sink. Then,

with a shake of her head, put them off until tomorrow. It'd

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give her something to do in between Clint's departure and

Ethan's arrival.

His eyes held hers as he drank from his glass. "How did

you decide to foster parent?"

Jesse chuckled. "It was completely accidental." Sitting

forward she set her glass down and folded her elbows on the

table. "I went to lunch with a friend on a Saturday—you

remember Meghan Burke?" At Clint's nod, Jesse continued.

"Well, I don't really remember how the conversation started,

but I was bemoaning Mom and Dad leaving the house, its

emptiness, and my state of singlehood. She commiserated

with me and made the sarcastic remark,
Adopt. Your house

won't be empty and kids are a hell of a lot easier than men. It

got me thinking."

"Easier than men, huh?"

Jesse laughed again. "Yeah well. I never thought it would

be easy. But I was in a place to help someone out. I've saved

well, my job at Bellborne Marketing is secure, Lord knows I

have the time. I signed up to foster to see how well I could

handle kids with issues. I knew I wasn't prepared for a young

child, so I looked at kids ten or older."

"And found Ethan."

"Actually no."

Clint's eyebrows lifted with surprise.

"I had another child here to begin with. Another young

man. He was easy compared to Ethan. But he was

transitioning back into his birth home. His foster situation fell

apart when the husband took a job out of state. So he stayed

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with me about four months. When he left, the social worker

for his case approached me about Ethan."

Clint reached across the table for her hand and slid his

fingers through hers. At the brush of his roughened palm, a

shiver skittered up her arm. Resisting the pleasant sensation

and the heartwarming admiration that reflected in his amber

gaze, she let her mind wander back to that spring afternoon

where she'd been sad over saying goodbye to Matthew.

"She warned me Ethan wouldn't be easy. Even with the

warning, I was completely unprepared. Let's just say I knew

within the first month that if Ethan were to have a chance to

succeed, it would require permanency. He's got some real

issues, and he's just now starting to move beyond them."

Sorrow bubbled as the failed Christmas adoption drifted

into her mind. She let out a sigh, glanced at the Christmas

tree. "That's why I was so upset the other day."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

She shook her head and brought her gaze back to his

probing eyes. "I'm putting it off. He hasn't mentioned it. Until

Christmas actually gets here, it probably won't even occur to

him we didn't go to court. I'm hoping with all the other good

things that day, it won't be so bad when I have to tell him

we're waiting again."

Clint rose to his feet. With a gentle pull, he coaxed her out