Kisses on Her Christmas List (7 page)

And she couldn't have any.

The aching pain filled her as it always did when confronted by her barrenness.
The loss.
The unfairness.

For the first time in months she wanted to flirt.
Wanted to be pretty to somebody—and she had to pull back.

For both of their sakes.

“W
ELL
,
SHE'S ASLEEP
.”
Rory plopped down on the sofa beside Shannon, who was pulling strands of tinsel through her fingers to untangle them.
Supper had gone well.
But after the dishes had been cleared, Finley had begun to nod off, so Rory had taken her for a bath.
“She went out like a light the second her head hit the pillow.”
Rolling his head across the sofa back, he smiled at her.
“You're great with her.”

Shannon laughed.
“Not really.
In case you didn't notice my strategy, I simply kept her busy until she dropped from exhaustion.”

He laughed.

“I'm serious.
She's obviously a smart little girl.
She bores easily.
The trick to preventing tantrums might be simply keeping her busy.”

“I can't always do that.
I have a company to run.
So it's her nanny, Mrs.
Perkins, who gets the brunt of her moods.
Though she spends a lot of time entertaining Finley, there are days when Finley only wants me.
If she breaks down and calls me and I come home, we feel like we're rewarding Finley for bad behavior.”

“You are.”
She turned her attention to her tangled tinsel again.
She didn't like to pry, but he needed help and now that she'd spent a little time with Finley, she
realized she'd learned a great deal watching her friends and their children in South Carolina.
“There are lots of things you can do to discipline her.
The first is to get her accustomed to hearing the word
no
.
But you have to be smart about it.
If she's tired or hungry, she won't take well to it.
If you don't watch her mood, and discipline her when she's not open, it'll make things worse.”

He tweaked her hair.
“How'd you get so smart?”

She shrugged.
“I pay attention?”

He laughed.
“Right.”
He paused, obviously waiting for her to say more, and when she didn't he said, “I'm serious.
I've asked you this before, but you always blew me off.
And I'm curious.
Did you read a book or something?
Because if you did, I'd like to get that book.”

“No book.”
She ran some more tinsel through her fingers, once again debating how much to tell him.
After a few seconds, she said, “When I lived in South Carolina with my ex, all of our friends had children.
We'd be invited to picnics and outings and I'd see how they handled their kids.
My husband really wanted children and I wanted to be a good mom.
So I'd watch.”
She laughed slightly at how stupid she probably sounded.
“Technically, I spent my entire marriage watching other people raise kids.”

The room grew silent.
Every pop and snap of the logs in the fireplace echoed in the quiet room.

Rory finally broke the silence.
“So what happened?”

She peeked at him.
“Happened?”

“To your marriage.”

Once again, she thought before answering.
There was no way she'd tell him the truth.
It was humiliating to be deserted by the man you loved on the day you needed him the most.
Humiliating that a man who'd
truly loved her couldn't stay.
Humiliating that she'd been abandoned for a physical defect.

Plus, Rory was in Green Hill to buy her store.
They might be spending some personal time together because of the storm, but at the end of the weekend they would be business associates.

Still, they were stranded together and he'd told her some personal things.
So she couldn't totally ignore the question.

She ran the last of the first strand of tinsel through her fingers and began spooling it around her hand so it would be ready to hang the next day when Rory and Finley left.

“I suspect my ex was a little like your ex.”

He laughed.
“Really?”

“He had very definite ideas of how he wanted his life.”
She continued spooling so she didn't have to look at him.
“He wanted things to be a certain way.
When we hit a point where I couldn't make those things happen, he dumped me.”

He sat forward, dropped his clasped hands between his knees, then straightened again and caught her gaze.
“I'm sorry your ex was a jerk.”

“I'm sorry your marriage didn't work out.”

Once again silence reigned and unspoken thoughts rippled through her brain.
He was a nice guy and, at her core, Finley was a sweet little girl.
She'd give anything to have had a good husband and a beautiful child.
Anything.

Rory leaned toward her and her heart expanded in her chest.
They were only a foot apart.
A shift forward by him, a shift forward by her and their lips could touch.

But uncertainty leaped in the dark depths of his deep brown eyes.
Though he didn't say a word, she knew the
litany undoubtedly rattling through his head right now.
They were both wounded.
He had a child.
And as soon as they got out of his storm, they'd be doing business.
They shouldn't get involved.

He pulled back, away from her, confirming her suspicions, and disappointment shuddered through her.

He rose.
“I guess I'd better head off to bed myself.
I'll see you in the morning.”

She smiled.
“Sure.
See you in the morning.”

But something splintered inside her heart.
Since Bryce, she'd lived with a feeling of inadequacy.
Not being good enough.
Never feeling womanly enough.
Though Rory had good reasons not to kiss her, those feelings of inadequacy reverberated through her.
Whispering like demons, reminding her that for lots of men she wasn't whole, wasn't good enough…couldn't ever be good enough.

 

The next morning the world was still a winter wonderland.
Rory ambled into the kitchen to find Shannon sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee.

She smiled at him over the rim.
“No Finley?”

“She's still sleeping.”

“Good, then I can tell you I watched the local news this morning.”

He winced.
“Bad?”

She laughed.
“Depends on your point of view.
Raleigh's employees get another unexpected vacation day.
We got another six inches of snow last night and the roads haven't been cleared from the first storm.”

Rory didn't care.
Finley was well-behaved, happy, for the first time in the two years they'd struggled without her mom.
Another day of not looking at the store didn't
bother him.
Unfortunately, he wasn't the only person in this equation.

“I'm sorry that you're losing revenue.”

“Funny thing about running the only department store in a twenty-mile radius.
You might think we'd lose a lot of business by being closed for the entire weekend before Christmas, but the truth is we'll just be busier Monday through Friday.”
She smiled.
“We'll be fine.”

Rory got a cup of coffee and headed to the table.
Sitting across from her, he noticed she wasn't wearing a lick of makeup.
Her hair had been combed but not styled and the riot of curls made her look young, carefree.
Kissable.

His heart cartwheeled in his chest as longing sprinted through him.
But he'd already been through this in his head the night before, so he ignored the yearning in favor of the more important issue.
In spite of the fact that he'd almost kissed her the night before, she wasn't upset, angry or even standoffish.
She still liked having him and Finley at her home.

He picked up his coffee, drank a long swallow, then said, “How about if I make omelets this morning?”

“Oh, I love omelets!”
Her face brightened in a way that shot an arrow of arousal through him.
He didn't know what it was about this woman that attracted him so, but he did know that these feelings were inappropriate.
She'd done so much for them in the past two days that he owed her.
He shouldn't be ogling her or fantasizing about kissing her.

“I have some ham, some cheese.
I'll bet there's even a green pepper or two in the refrigerator.”

“Western omelets it is, then.”

Yawning, Finley pushed open the swinging door.
“Morning.”

Rory scooped her off the floor.
“Morning to you, too.”
He kissed her cheek.
“I'm making omelets.”

Her eyes widened with delight.
“Good!”
She scooted down.
“I'll set the table.”

Shannon caught his gaze, her eyebrows rising in question.
He shrugged.
But he knew why Finley was so helpful, so accommodating.
He'd like to take credit, but he couldn't.
Shannon was the one who'd so easily guided her into helping with meals and setting the table, keeping her busy so she wouldn't get bored and misbehave.

And the way he thanked her was with inappropriate thoughts of kissing her?

Not good, Rory.
Seriously, not good.

Shannon chopped the green peppers and ham, while he gathered eggs, beat them in a bowl.
They worked together companionably, happily, as Finley set out plates and silver.
But when breakfast was over, Finley slid off her seat.
“Are we going now?”

Rory looked at Shannon.
Then realized what he'd done.
He hadn't just turned to her for help with Finley.
He trusted her.
He wanted her advice.

That was not good.
Not because she couldn't help, but because his reaction had been automatic.
Instinctive.

“Are we ever going to get out of here?”

Shannon rose from the table, taking Finley's plate with her.
“Aren't you having fun?”

Her lip thrust out.
“Yeah.
Sort of.”

“The roads are still pretty bad,” Rory said.
He walked over to her and lifted her into his arms.
“Unless the snowplow comes through sometime today, we're still stuck here.”

Her lower lip jutted out even farther.
“Okay.”

Shannon understood her cabin fever, but multiplied
by about fifty.
Not only was she stuck in her house, but she was also stuck with a man she was really coming to like who wouldn't want her if he knew the truth about her.
Even if he was interested and asked her out, she'd never accept a date.
Lying awake the night before, she'd realized that if they dated, at some point she'd have to tell him she couldn't have kids.
The last man she'd told hadn't taken it so well.
Just like Bryce, Rory wanted kids.
Was it worth a few weeks or months of
her
happiness to put
him
in a position of having to dump her when she told him?

It wasn't.
Which was why the subject of a date or romance or even liking each other would never come up, if she could help it.
And why needing to keep Finley busy was such a lucky, lucky thing.

She walked over to the six-year-old.
“I have an idea.
I have a neighbor who lives over there.”
She pointed over Finley's shoulder, out the window.
“She's a little bit older and her husband died last year.
So when we get stranded like this, she's all by herself.
Imagine being all by yourself for three days, no company, nobody to talk to.”

Finley gasped and pressed her hands over her mouth.
“I'll bet she's scared.”

“Maybe not scared.
But lonely.
So, since the weather's not so bad that we can't go out, I was thinking we could bake a cake and take it to her.”
She glanced at Rory, silently asking for his approval as she detailed her plan.
“We'd have to walk, but we could think of it as fun, like we did yesterday when we were sledding.”