By Proxy (15 page)

Every moment he spent with her was making him dread Monday. He moved toward it like a condemned man, wanting to grasp and claw at the clock, turn back the hands and slow down time so he had more moments with her, more memories, more warmth to take with him when he returned to his cool, slick life in Chicago.

Why couldn’t he have met her there? Why couldn’t she have been in Chicago for some reason, any reason, and they could have met and had a chance with each other? The unfairness of finding her and not being able to have her frustrated him. His forehead creased in thought.
But, wait, Sam. Wait.
A small kernel of hope materialized in his head, and he couldn’t shake it
. You don’t know if she’d consider coming to Chicago. Maybe to visit. Maybe to just visit and see what happens. And maybe she’d like it. Maybe she’d give it a chance.

Could he ask that of her? A small-town girl, living a perfectly contented life? Sure, he could. He could ask her to visit. He wouldn’t pressure her, but if she said yes, he’d just show her the best of Chicago and see what she thought. His brain hurt from thinking and from the hopeful energy needed to fuel such an unlikely idea, but he couldn’t shake the possibility. He’d never know unless he asked. He would just have to wait for the right moment.

She came back out of her room with a bright smile, and he stood up.

“Thanks for this,” he said. “For your beautiful outfit, and…” He gestured at her helplessly, unaccustomed to feeling so clumsy around a woman.

Sam, you’re the world’s biggest sap with these corny words and stupid gestures. Get it together, brother!

“Oh. It was fun to dress up. I don’t get the chance very often. The last time I wore this was at UGF.”

She moved to the front closet and took out her parka, struggling to put it on while holding her purse. He took the coat to hold it for her and she accepted his help wordlessly without turning to look at him. As she zipped up, he lifted her hair off her neck where it was trapped under the collar, just as he had at the courthouse. He gently laid her hair back against the open parka hood, watching it mix effortlessly with the ruff of white fur, then put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

She looked up at him, searching his eyes, then flicked her glance quickly to his lips before finding his eyes again. It was all he needed to know and later he would have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment as he bent his head toward her, touching his lips to hers for the first time. He felt her breath released in a soft sigh against his mouth as she moved her hands up, flattening them on his chest. Leaning into her, he moved his hands down her back slowly, over her shoulder blades, following her spine to the small of her back, where they rested against the shell of her down parka. He ran his tongue lightly along her lips, eliciting a small moan from deep in her throat that made his fingers curl in excitement and pleasure. Her mouth parted slightly in invitation, and he touched his tongue to hers then sucked it into his mouth gently.

Sam had kissed a lot of girls in his life. A lot. So the fact that this girl—this sweet, beautiful, country girl who tasted like fresh air and sunshine—could make shivers run down his arms told him something. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was sure now. He was definitely falling for Jenny Lindstrom.

Her knees must have buckled a little because he felt her lean into him, and he wondered if she could feel his hardness against the soft cradle of her hips.

She turned her head away and broke off the fledgling kiss before he could deepen it any further, stepping back in his arms and looking up at his face. He stared at her lips in amazement. He noted no difference in them and yet they were permanently changed for Sam. He had touched them, tasted them, and staring at them now—for one brief, desperate moment, he wished they belonged to him.

When he met her eyes, she smiled at him, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

“Jenny, I—”

“Me too, Sam.” She opened her eyes and his breath caught. Was the tenderness in her eyes just a mirror of his own?

“Jenny.”

He was lost in her eyes; the same bright eyes he’d seen flash with spirit and kindness, were now heavy-lidded with passion. If he kept staring, he’d kiss her again. He’d kiss her senseless. He’d kiss her until tomorrow morning if she let him. But he didn’t want to scare her; he didn’t want to ruin anything as amazing as the kiss they’d just shared.

She didn’t resist him as he pulled her against his body and put his arms around her, leaning down to lay his cheek on her shoulder, closing his eyes. She smelled of shampoo and wind and outdoors, fresh and clean. He waited, breathlessly, to see if she would pull away, but after a moment, he felt her arms go around his back, palms flat against his shoulder blades. She gently leaned her head sideways, resting it on top of his.

Wild promises and impetuous declarations flooded his mind at the threshold of such sweetness, but one prevailing thought stilled them all:
Holding her is the best feeling in the whole world.

He felt her lift her head and start to pull away, so he leaned back, looking at her face, smiling into her eyes. She wriggled back from him and unlocked the door then turned to face him, offering him her hand. “Come stroll with me?”

He took her hand and let himself be led out the door.

***

Gardiner loved Christmastime. The street was festooned with sparkling red and white lights like blinking candy canes, zigzagging across the small Main Street. Hundreds of people walked in and out of stores, restaurants and boutiques, greeting one another cheerfully with “Merry Christmas!” A musical system piped jolly carols through the small Main Street area, and as the strains of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” filled the air, a rascally smile spread across Sam’s face. He squeezed Jenny’s hand, feeling happiness bubble up inside of him, caught up in the festive fun of a country Christmas Stroll. Not that he would admit it to anyone, even under torture, but the sweet, sexy Christmas song was actually one of his favorites, and he knew the words by heart.
'Cause I just want you here tonight holding on to me so tight. What more can I do? Baby all I want for Christmas is you…Ooh baby…

It was nothing like Chicago, which also bustled at Christmastime in a teeming, moving mass of people who moved anonymously in their own worlds, consumed with their own lives, shopping, pleasure. It had been a long time since Sam had been surrounded by such a genuine sense of community, and he realized how terribly he must have been missing the wholesome cheerfulness of the Montana Christmases of his childhood and youth. The engaging familiarity of attending Jenny’s Christmas Stroll was not only like restoring a forgotten memory but reviving it totally to see it bright and blazing before his eyes.

Sam kept Jenny’s hand tightly laced with his as she directed their course. Her plan was to walk all the way down Main Street to enjoy the decorations and lights then have dinner at the Grizzly Guzzle Grill across the bridge, where Lars worked as a bartender, and finally catch the tree lighting at Arch Park near the Yellowstone entrance.

“Heya, Jenny.” “Hi, Miss Lindstrom.” “Hello, Jenny!” It seemed everyone who passed them knew Jenny, and she received more than a few curious looks just as she had the night before. Sam also noticed with narrowing eyes that every man in Gardiner suddenly seemed to have the pretty schoolteacher on his radar. More than one did a double take as they walked by, nodding appreciatively as they took a second look
.

With a bit of bemusement, he realized it wasn’t totally unlike walking into a club with Pepper, except Jenny seemed completely oblivious to the attention, smiling and greeting people as kindly as she had the evening before.
What a difference in these two women. Both beautiful, but one knows it and one doesn’t.
He was quickly coming to find he preferred the modest lack of awareness in the latter.

They peeked in windows, pointing out decorations to each other and exclaiming over cleverly arranged lights. Jenny indicated her favorite shops and boutiques, and they grabbed gingerbread cookies from a little booth outside of the saddler’s shop.

Nothing tasted quite like fresh gingerbread. The warm, fresh-baked cookies immediately conjured sharp memories of Sam’s childhood kitchen. Arriving home after school at Christmastime, the smell of his mother’s baking would make his mouth water before he even had time to shuck off his backpack in the front hallway. And there she’d be in the kitchen, taking batches out of the oven to be cooled and decorated later. There was always enough for him and his sisters, and there was cold milk, too. She’d tell him to wait for it to cool down, but he’d bite too soon in anticipation and not even feel the sting of the burn on his tongue, savoring the spicy sweetness of her Christmas cookies.

He smiled at Jenny. “Mmm!”

“Good, right?” She reached up a finger to gently brush off a lingering crumb at the corner of Sam’s mouth. Currents zapped between them like electricity, and Sam’s tongue darted out where her finger had touched him.

He cleared his throat. “Any more?”

She smiled like a minx and shook her head slowly, raising her eyebrows at him knowingly. “Nope. No more.”

Hmm. Jenny teasing me? Well,
this
I like!
And he took her hand again, lacing his fingers back through hers as they continued walking.

Their walk took them to the Gardiner Tackle Shop at the end of the street, and beside it Sam noticed a small white structure that resembled a small, country schoolhouse. It only took him a moment to realize it was the finished Gardiner High School booth, all twenty pieces having been fit and nailed together by Erik and Lars that afternoon. He smiled at how merry it looked, roped with evergreen and white lights.
Wow. Those Lindstrom brothers work fast!
He was impressed by their quick work and sort of pleased he had personally contributed to the Stroll.

The booth had open windows on all four sides, and a large shelf in the front offered hot apple cider and cider donuts. A cluster of senior girls sang Christmas carols a capella from inside. Beside them was Principal Paul, looking dapper in a navy suit and Santa hat, greeting his students and their parents and exchanging holiday cheer.

Sam watched Paul’s face as they approached. It brightened as it focused tenderly on Jenny. But his eyes followed her arm down to her hand, securely attached to Sam’s, and he cringed briefly, shifting his eyes up to Sam with disapproval. He offered Sam a perfunctory wave, which Sam returned with his free hand. To his regret, Jenny dropped his hand and crossed over to Paul.

“Hey, Paul,” she started, contrite and hopeful.

“Jen.” He nodded once coolly. “Sam.”

Sam had it in him to feel sorry for the guy. “Good to see you again, Paul.”

“Jenny!” She turned and hugged an older woman and young girl beside her, effectively leaving Sam and Paul staring at one another across the shelf. Paul gestured for Sam to follow him to the far corner of the booth where they couldn’t be overheard by the cider-and-donut crowd.

Paul assessed him, nodding slightly, eyes narrowing just barely. “Don’t hurt her.”

Sam didn’t have a ready answer to this command. He wished he could say he would never hurt her, but their growing feelings and imminent separation would make such a declaration foolish. Pulling apart from one another on Monday would hurt. Pulling two connected things apart always left a mark. If it was any consolation, she wouldn’t be the only one in pain. Sam was sure of that.

Administrators were adept at reading people’s faces, and Sam felt like an open book. Paul shook his head in disgusted resignation, understanding. “Okay. Then I’ll help her pick up the pieces when you go.”

Sam clenched his teeth together, tightening his jaw, staring back at Paul with fury. “We’ll figure it out. Jenny and me.”

Paul’s nostrils flared and he shook his head at Sam. “If she were mine—"

“She’s not.”

Paul inhaled sharply and stared at Sam with searing blue eyes, hurt and angry at once. “It won’t end well, Sam. She’s a small-town girl.”

“It’s none of your business, Paul.” Sam started to turn away, then thought of something and faced his rival again. When he spoke, his voice was softer, sorry. “We didn’t know this would happen. We didn’t plan it.”

Paul sighed and his face softened then too. He nodded at Sam as he might to a student who was trying to own up to wrongdoing.

“You don’t know her,” he whispered, the agony clear in his voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam replied, soft and level. He felt sorry for his rival. He’d probably feel the same way very soon as he lost Jenny, watched her walk out of the Livingston Courthouse, out of his life.

Paul held Sam’s eyes for a serious moment, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat as he headed back to the cider, leaving Sam alone.

***

Jenny noticed Sam and Paul talking in the corner but decided not to interfere. Whatever they had to say to each other was best left between them. Still, she couldn’t help but notice Sam’s previous cheerfulness had taken a dip when they left the booth and headed down Main Street toward the Grizzly Guzzle Grill to grab some dinner. He didn’t try to take her hand and seemed to brood in silence walking beside her.

“Okay, Sam,” she finally sighed. “Let’s have it.”

He glanced up at her, surprised. “What?”

“What was up between you and Paul?”

Sam shook his head slowly but wouldn’t look at her or speak to her.

She took his arm and pulled him back against the corner of a building, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Tell me.”

“He’s worried I’m going to hurt you.” He met her eyes and then looked down, kicking at a lump of ice on the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe.

Oh,
she thought.
Me too.
But she mustered her courage to respond to him, making sure to keep her voice light. “That’s silly.”

Sam’s head whipped up to face her.

She smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m not a child, Sam. You’re here for a weekend. We head back to Livingston on Monday, and then Chicago for you and back to Gardiner for me. You haven’t made any promises, nor have I.”