Holly Lane (16 page)

But the answer remained the same as before. It was simple. “Because I’m afraid to trust him.”

“I still don’t get it,” Jenny had said. “Because if he’s as crazy about you as it seems, he’s not going to help Jeff in any way that would hurt you. I mean, he’s Adam, for heaven’s sake.”

Yeah, good guy Adam. Mr. I-always-do-the-right-thing Adam. Jenny was thinking of the Adam they’d always known. But, again, she wasn’t aware of Adam’s dalliance at that wedding when he’d still been married to Sheila. And it wasn’t that Sue Ann thought he’d cheat on
her
—it was simply that, right now, she just wasn’t sure if
any
man could be counted on. She’d counted on Jeff and he’d let her down. And Adam had proven, at least once, that he wasn’t infallible, either. And how could she possibly get involved with someone who might soon testify against her in a court of law?

She knew no one—well, Jenny and Adam—thought of it that way, as testifying against her. But if he testified for Jeff, it was
against
her. He’d be choosing sides. At the very least, he’d be helping Jeff increase her hardship. And at the worst, her daughter’s custody could end up at risk. And yeah, that last part probably wouldn’t happen, but what if it did?

“You don’t really think Santa will bring me a reindeer, do you?” Sophie asked her then, her sweet but skeptical voice echoing from the backseat and shaking Sue Ann from her reverie.

Sue Ann just let out a sigh. She really did understand why Adam had told Sophie he’d try to get her a reindeer—she knew he’d been put on the spot—but the fact was, now, on top of everything else, her little girl was going to be severely disappointed come Christmas morning.

“Well,” she finally said, “I just think that maybe . . . you shouldn’t get your hopes up. Santa said he would try, right? That’s different than a promise. So maybe you shouldn’t count on it. And I’m sure if Santa can’t come through on the reindeer that he’ll bring you lots of other nice things.” Like the stuffed reindeer she had picked up for Sophie today at the toy store in Crestview, somehow hoping that would be enough. After tonight, though, that stuffed deer had some big hooves to fill.

“I know all that,” Sophie replied very stoically from the darkness behind Sue Ann, “but I’m not worried. He’s going to bring me my reindeer. I just know it.”

S
ue Ann had wanted that kiss as badly as he had—Adam knew it to the marrow of his bones. He still suffered the stirring desire to bring his body together with hers just thinking about it, remembering that moment when her soft lips had been so close to his . . . and yet so far away.

A few days had passed since then—it was Tuesday afternoon now and he worked in the tree lot outside the landscape supply. Christmas was only a week and a half away, so he’d watched the offerings in the lot grow thinner, yet they’d stayed busy, too, since some people waited until right about now to put up their live trees. And in one sense, he was glad he had plenty to occupy his mind—but in another, he felt weirdly as if he’d been moving through life in a fog.

His time these last couple of days had been spent in one of three ways: thinking about Sue Ann, remembering their hot nights together, and wishing—hoping—there could be more. Thinking about his boys and wishing they were here at home with him. Or snapping at people.

By now, Chuck Whaley seemed almost afraid to be in his presence—and Adam guessed he couldn’t blame the guy. He’d yelled at Chuck more in the past two weeks than in the entire time they’d known each other. And Tyler Fleet no longer even made eye contact with him. He probably seemed like some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He’d taken the time to explain that missing his boys had him in a crappy mood, but he guessed that after the third or fourth time, no one really cared, if they kept having to put up with it. And, of course, the situation with Sue Ann was adding to his rotten disposition, too—but that was no one’s business.

Now, having decided maybe it was better to let Chuck and Tyler deal with the customers today, Adam had isolated himself in the lot, quieter this afternoon than normal, consolidating the remaining trees into one central area to free up more parking space. It felt good to start breaking down the now-empty stands of nailed-together two-by-fours where trees had leaned until they’d sold—the task required a little muscle, some physical labor, and as he worked he could even feel some tension beginning to leave his arms and shoulders.

A few minutes later, as he used a push broom to sweep up fallen needles and bark, it began to snow. Damn, what was it with all the snow this year already? The temperatures had stayed around freezing or below since Thanksgiving, so while the roads and most lots had been cleared, the ground remained blanketed with white. And now it looked like another fresh coating was on the way.

If it accumulated, it would mean a late night or possibly an early morning of plowing parking lots with one of the company trucks. And though he was thankful for work that helped fill the winter months, he didn’t usually have to do so much of it until after Christmas.

Aw well—again, better to stay busy. The busier he was, the sooner this Christmas would be over and his kids would be home and he could put this cruddy mood behind him once and for all.

But quit kidding yourself, Becker.
Yeah, having Jacob and Joey back would definitely improve that part of his life—yet he knew he’d still be wishing things were different with Sue Ann. When his Grinchiness had started, it had been all about the boys—and, as Sue Ann had made him see—his regrets. But now he was forced to realize that even when the boys came home, he wasn’t going to feel completely better. Nope, not by a long shot. He was still going to want her. And if her response to his near-kiss the other night was any indication, he wasn’t going to have her.

And it wasn’t just about sex. With Sue Ann, he wanted the whole package. From the pushy, know-it-all mom-about-town to the sweeter, more vulnerable woman he’d seen since Jeff’s departure. From the girl next door to the lover who soaked up every pleasure she could.

Shit. This thing with her—it really wasn’t going away. Yeah, he’d kind of known that by the time he’d delivered her tree, and he’d known it even more after what had happened between them in his truck—but damn. When had he gotten this caught up in her?

But then . . . the when didn’t matter so much as the fact he couldn’t run away from: The longer this wanting stretched out, the more powerful it became.

It had seemed so simple back in that cabin when she’d said they should forget about what had happened between them. Even if he hadn’t necessarily liked it, it had sounded easy enough to accomplish. But now, as fluffy snow began to cover the very ground he swept, he experienced that familiar, pervasive, almost agonizing ache you got when you . . . fell for someone.

That was when he had to stop—stop sweeping, catch his breath, rest slightly against his broom.
I’ve completely fallen for Sue Ann.
How the hell did I let this happen?

And how did it get so screwed up so fast?
After all, things were officially awkward between them right now. Plus she’d just gotten divorced from his best friend. And despite what they’d shared that night in the truck, it was pretty clear she wasn’t interested in a relationship with him.

And he had to accept that, abide by her wishes. Didn’t he? Because he understood how badly Jeff had wounded her, and in the big picture of their lives, it had only happened like . . . yesterday.

Adam sighed, then looked to the sky as if seeking an answer—but all he found there was the blank white slate of a snowy winter day, thick flakes now wetting his face.

Yet . . . could there be some way to win her over, to make her forget or look beyond her reasons for pushing him away?

And then something hit him, something new. The first time he’d kissed her, as a kid, he’d been dressed up as Joseph for the nativity play at school. The first time he’d flirted with her, just a couple of weeks ago, he’d been behind a big, stuffed reindeer head. And on Wednesday night when he’d tried to kiss her, he’d been in a Santa suit. So it seemed like he was always making moves on Sue Ann when he was . . . somebody else. Not on purpose—but it just worked out that way sometimes. Yet in the cabin, and in the truck—the times things had gotten really good with her—he’d been just . . . himself. For better or worse.

So maybe that was the key—just being real with her. Could be that those masks made it a little easier sometimes, easier to get flirty and make a play. But they’d known each other all their lives, and if there was anyone he should be able to be his real self with—whether that was his normal self or his Scroogy self or something in between—it should be Sue Ann. So if he did that from now on, maybe . . . something good would happen. Maybe.

Just then, Adam looked up to see an SUV rumbling into the parking lot, leaving wet tracks in the thin covering of new snow.
Jeff’s
SUV. Damn. What timing.

Six or seven months ago, he’d have been happy to see Jeff—they’d been best friends since high school, the best man in each other’s weddings. But since his breakup with Sue Ann, things just hadn’t felt the same. And now the guy showed up right when Adam was plotting how to win his ex-wife’s affections?

The SUV pulled up to where Adam stood working, and as Jeff came into sight through the windshield, he flashed a smile and lifted his hand in a wave. Adam tried to smile in return, but he suspected the effort didn’t quite work.

Jeff didn’t seem to notice, though—he hopped out, slammed the door, and merrily said, “What’s up, bud?”

“Not much,” Adam replied, fearing he sounded as sour as he felt. Things had been tense between them ever since he’d told Jeff, months ago, that he thought leaving Sue Ann was a mistake. But maybe for Jeff, the tension had passed. “What’s up with you?”

“Haven’t gotten around to putting up a tree yet at my new place with Ronni—so I took off work early to come get one. Christmas is right around the corner now, and it being our first one together as husband and wife, I want to make it special.” Or maybe Jeff was still so smitten with the new woman in his life that he just didn’t take in anyone else’s reactions. He’d seemed to be in his own little world ever since parting with Sue Ann in June.

Despite Jeff’s holly jolly attitude, Adam still couldn’t manage a smile—so he just motioned at the remaining trees in the distance. “That’s what I have left. Getting pretty picked over, though.”

“Okey doke. And, uh, listen—have you decided if you can help me out at the hearing?”

Adam’s chest tightened. “Um . . . afraid I’m still on the fence. Just feel sort of caught between you and Sue Ann, you know?” But he didn’t go into further detail than that—he’d known Sue Ann their whole lives, too, so he hoped it made sense to Jeff that it counted for something, even without knowing that their relationship had become romantic—and sexual.

“I get that,” Jeff said. “But I’m really hoping you can come through. My lawyer says it would help a lot. And like I told you on the phone—it’s the only way Ronni and I can move forward with having a baby, and it’s important to her. Her biological clock is ticking hard.”

Damn, now Jeff was making him feel like he was preventing a woman from having a child? Sheesh. Despite himself, that tore at him a little. He’d only met Ronni a few times, but enough to know that he actually liked her. Still, he just nodded and said, “I’ll let you know.”

Jeff smiled in thanks, and that, too, dug at Adam’s emotions a little. Maybe it reminded him of better times in their friendship—easier times. “You know it would mean a lot to me.” After which he pointed toward the remaining evergreens. “Guess I’d better go find a tree. Then I gotta get home and get some lights up outside, too.”

“I put up Sue Ann’s lights,” Adam heard himself say then, sounding more rigid than he’d meant to.

At which Jeff stopped, looked back. And maybe he sounded a little less merry and a bit more awkward when he replied, “Uh, yeah, Sophie told me. Been meaning to say thanks.”

“It was no problem. And she needed the help,” he added. Maybe he shouldn’t have. And maybe he shouldn’t risk making Sue Ann look . . . needy or something, since for the most part, Adam thought she was doing a great job of being on her own. But clearly Jeff had completely forgotten about the woman he’d once loved, about how hard his departure had made her life. He already had a full-time job, financial security. And he already lived with someone else who could help with the daily chores that came with being an adult.

Now Jeff obviously heard the stiffness in Adam’s voice. Yet he only said, “Well, it was good of you to pitch in,” and let it go.

And as his old friend walked away toward the trees, Adam was sorry he’d brought Sue Ann up at all. The fact was, people got divorced, and they learned to manage life by themselves—it happened all the time. And it wasn’t his place to pick a fight with Jeff over this.

But he just thought, as he had from the start, that his old friend was inconsiderate. After all, during the first year after he’d split with Sheila, he’d still made sure she had what she needed. He’d delivered a free Christmas tree from his lot that year, he’d put up her lights as well, and more than once he’d repaired a broken toilet or dishwasher for her. It hadn’t meant they forgave each other—it had just been the decent thing to do for a woman he’d once loved and the mother of his kids.