Highlander for the Holidays (28 page)

She stared at his chest, ignoring Toby’s whine as he tried to wedge between them. “I remember suddenly hearing gunshots, then I’m sure I remember struggling against being carried into the bedroom, and then more gunshots.”

“Jessica!” Brad snapped, reaching for her shoulders only to stumble back when Toby jumped against him. “Jessie, listen to me,” he petitioned more calmly, his arms stretched toward her. “The detectives ran forensic tests, including looking for traces of gunpowder on each of us. They found it on both of your hands, and figured you needed both hands to hold the gun because it was such a large caliber. But they found gunpowder on only one of mine because I was holding pressure on the wound on your back because . . .” He looked down at his hands as if they were covered in blood. “Because that one seemed the most severe.” He lifted his gaze to her, his glistening eyes reflecting the horror as if it were happening right now. “But you were in the
bedroom
when I ran upstairs. And the guy was lying in the bathroom doorway, and Eric was . . . he was . . .” Brad gestured weakly. “The nightstand drawer was on the floor next to him beside the bed. He must have been going after his gun.”

“Could . . . could Eric have shot the robber before he died?”

He shook his head. “According to the detectives, they didn’t find any residue on his hands, just yours and mine.” Brad started walking again, giving her a concerned glance as he shoved his fists in his jacket pockets. “I know you’ve refused to read the police report, but since you seem to be remembering, maybe reading it now would put things in perspective.”

She drew in another shuddering breath, having to lean on her walking stick because she was shaking so badly. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted.

“Do you remember how you found out Eric was having an affair? Or how you found out he’d lied about being sterile?”

She shook her head. “I still can’t remember that part, but I do keep hearing a woman’s voice, only I can’t tell if she was on the phone or in person or even what she was say—” Jessie’s coat pocket suddenly belted out an unfamiliar tune that was so loud, she stumbled several steps in surprise.

She reached in her pocket, pulled out Ian’s phone, and flipped it open, then squinted against the sunshine to read the message: Stop talking, missy. That was all it said, just for her to stop talking. And then she saw it was from her old phone number. Jessie pulled in a calming breath and snapped the phone shut, shoved it back in her pocket, and resumed walking.

“Who was it?” Brad took a calming breath of his own. “Or should I even ask?”

“It was Mom wanting to know if they need to buy a four-wheel-drive truck in order to reach Pine Creek,” she said, giving him the best smile she could muster. She turned into her driveway and stopped at the back of his rental car. “I’m beginning to think you’re right, Brad; remembering the details of that night isn’t going to accomplish anything. So maybe I should just burn my copy of the police report. Yeah,” she said with a nod when he seemed to relax. “I’ll have a large bonfire down by the lake on the next full moon, and put that horrible night behind me once and for all.” She scrunched her shoulders and gave him a crooked grin. “And who knows, maybe sending those memories up to the moon and stars will stop the flashbacks, and I’ll finally quit fighting an attacker who’s been dead for four years.”

Brad opened his arms, and Jessie leaned her walking stick against the trunk of the car, stepped around Toby, and walked into his embrace. He held her fiercely for the longest time, then let her go with a sigh. But instead of getting in the car, he started moving toward the house, holding up his hand when she frowned. “I think I’d better use your facilities before I head out. I’ll just be a minute,” he said, turning to jog up the pathway and scaling the steps to disappear inside.

Jessie grabbed her stick then walked over and opened her garage door, intending to get a few pieces of firewood so she’d have an excuse not to go through another drawn-out hugging session with Brad, but stopped when she saw something unfamiliar peeking out past the end of the woodpile. She glanced toward the house, then walked down the length of the pile and pulled back the edge of an old blanket she didn’t recognize—only to gasp when she saw the giant bird feeder and a large bag of birdfeed sitting beside it.

“Jessie?” Brad called out.

“I’m coming,” she said, quickly lowering the blanket over the feeder and giving it a tug to make sure the bag was also hidden. She rushed out of the garage to find Brad standing by his car again, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry for taking so long, but I had to stop and take a couple of pictures of your Christmas tree. Whatever possessed you to put that one inside instead of the cultured tree on your porch?”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I got sucked in by its beauty.”

He snorted, and after checking to make sure Toby wasn’t going to attack him, Brad pulled her into his arms again and hugged her tightly. “Do I have even a small chance of getting you to come home with me, Jess?”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Jessie hugged him just as fiercely. “I’m sorry, Brad, but I already am home,” she whispered thickly, her throat aching with remorse. She gave his back a brisk series of pats and pulled away. “Promise me you’ll get on with your life, too. Find yourself a nice city girl, preferably one who’ll give you a run for your money in the kitchen.” She smiled crookedly. “Only try to be a little quicker and a lot less subtle about showing her how you feel, okay?”

He smoothed down the front of his jacket, two flags of red darkening his cheeks. “I . . . er . . . I’ve never been much of an extrovert, so I’m not exactly sure how to go about finding
another
nice city girl.” He grinned derisively. “Any suggestions?”

Jessie slipped an arm through his and started toward the driver side of his car. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. For some crazy reason I’ve caught myself looking through various college catalogs on the Internet lately, and I happened to notice that a lot of them offer cooking classes. Sign up for one or two, and make sure to partner with a gal who likes to cook gourmet more than she likes eating it.”

Brad turned from opening the car door, his expression somewhat surprised. “Cooking classes?” He looked off into the distance. “I never would have thought of doing something like that,” he murmured, looking back at her. “Are . . . are you
sure
, Jessica?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She clasped his face and stretched up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll keep in touch, Brad, I promise.”

“Yeah, we’ll keep in touch,” he said, turning to slide in behind the wheel. He started to close the door but hesitated. “That ski bum gives you any trouble, you call me, okay?” he said gruffly. “I’ll be on your doorstep in less than a day.”

“Thank you for that, Brad. And you, too; your cooking partner gives you any back talk in the kitchen, you call me and . . .” She shot him a broad grin. “And I’ll call Merissa and send her over to save you.”

He gave a loud snort, rolling his eyes as he shut the door. Jessie followed Toby over to the pathway, then stood and watched Brad back out of the driveway and start down the road, waving when he gave a soft honk of the horn.

She ruffled the fur on Toby’s head. “Okay, you big lug, are you happy now? I would say by your count, that’s one down and one more to go.” She headed up onto the porch, stopping to adjust the lights on the cultured Christmas tree before stepping inside. “Just don’t think you’re going to scare Ian off quite that easily,” she cautioned, walking to the center of the room. Jessie slowly looked around her home, her gaze stopping on her beautiful little fir tree with its branches sagging under the weight of the decorations she’d bought, and she broke into a smile just as her pocket started blaring out a . . . good Lord, was that “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing”?

She pulled out the cell phone and flipped it open. It’s not your body Ian is wanting to make love to, Jess, but you. Don’t you think it’s time you got naked?

“Now you’re giving me advice on my
love life
, you old goat?” She snapped the phone shut on the perfectly punctuated text and started to shove it in her pocket when “Silent Night” started playing.

I’ve learned that in this century it’s quite acceptable for a woman to do the seducing, so when ye finally do get around to it, don’t be discounting the power of a warm, inviting home filled with the scent of a fine roast in the oven. Jessie had to push the button to scroll down, wondering how on earth Roger was able to send such a long text. And doors are designed to close, you know, if you’re worried about a certain big fella being traumatized by seeing his mistress carrying on with another big fella. I’m afraid you’re down to only thirty-eight hours and fortyfive minutes, though, Jess, for you to be holding Ian’s hand, so I suggest you get cracking. But if you’re hesitating because ye still might be worrying about what secret he’s keeping, understand that he’s not hiding it from you near as much as he’s denying it even exists. So I guess that means you’re simply going to have to take a leap of faith, lass, and love him anyway.

It’s time, Jess, to create your miracles.

She softly closed the phone and stood staring at it, utterly speechless as ripples of heat and then cold raced through her. Okay, she got it; Ian was her miracle. But what miracle could she possibly give him in return? Jessie blew out a sigh and unbuttoned her coat when the phone started . . . good Lord, it was playing “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

She opened it and started reading again. I hope you’ve figured out by now that if creating miracles was easy, there wouldn’t be any reason for a crazy old goat like me to have to come along and give you a nudge, now would there? And just so ye know, I’m still waiting for my Christmas dinner invitation, missy. Should I assume it’s gotten itself lost in the mail? ’Cause getting to know you as I have, I’m really looking forward to meeting the folks who raised such a smart and courageous lass—although I’m still gonna ask your mama why she neglected to teach ye to cook. And don’t ye go worrying none, ’cause I’ll still be bringing the Scotch.

Jessie slowly closed the phone, and after a glance at the wall clock, buttoned her coat back up as she mentally counted how many hours until Ian got home, and decided she had enough time to drive to Greenville and buy another roast.

“Come on, Tobes,” she said, patting her leg as she grabbed her purse and walking stick and headed back outside. “If I’m going to stage a seduction, then I guess I probably better get cracking.”

IAN SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS SNOWMOBILE PARKED IN THE
woods across the road from Jessie’s house, his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms folded over his chest, waiting until it was time for him to go home. He stared past the wildly blinking lights strung the length of the porch to the open kitchen window covered in steam, wondering if he’d ever stop feeling like he was constantly being strangled. Hell, he hadn’t taken a normal breath since he’d
met
Jessie.

His father had warned him it could happen like this, setting eyes on a woman for the first time and getting sucker punched. Ian had been fifteen when his old man had taken him hiking in the back mountain valleys for their father-son talk about women, after he’d innocently asked how to handle a girl at school who’d set her sights on him. The next thing he knew, he’d been rousted out of bed at three in the morning—on a school day, no less—hustled out of the house before his mom could catch them, and all but tossed up on a horse loaded with enough supplies to last a week.

It had been the first time—and the last, actually—that Ian had ever known Morgan MacKeage to be so . . . demonstrative. His father had really opened up about how he’d first laid eyes on Sadie Quill right there at the same lake they were camped beside. Apparently his father had swum across the lake—naked, of course—and pulled himself up onto that rock right over there to sun himself, he’d said, pointing. That is, until he’d gotten the feeling he was being watched. And that’s when this beautiful, long-legged, blue-eyed blonde, realizing he’d heard the shutter on her camera, had stood up in a panic and started running.

Morgan had gone on to explain their unusual courtship—which had taken place out there in the valley more than in town—where his biggest hurdle had been getting the overly self-conscious woman to realize he really didn’t see her scarred body because he was too busy looking at
her
.

Ian uncrossed his ankles to kick the snow at his feet, wondering if he shouldn’t just ask his mom how to approach Jessie. Because honestly, he didn’t think he could take many more nights sleeping with Jessie and not make love to her. The woman knew he already knew she was missing part of her breast, so why in hell wouldn’t she give him a chance to prove how much he didn’t care that she wasn’t perfect? It wasn’t her body that had sucker punched him; it was her smiling eyes and lying straight face, her bluntness and courage, and her willingness to get back up every time a flashback knocked her down.