A Husband For The Holidays. Ami Weaver

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СКАЧАТЬ the fluffy snow off his windshield. He stood there for a second and watched Joe walk up the lane that led to the house. With a sigh he climbed in and started the engine. As he drove back out to the road, exhaustion washed over him. No doubt there’d be no sleep for him tonight. Or he’d dream of Darcy all night. Frankly, he’d prefer no sleep.

      He turned in the driveway of his little house, the one he’d bought and restored after Darcy left. He’d needed an outlet for his grief, and this house had provided it. He came in through the front door, and was greeted by enthusiastic barking. Sadie and Lilly came barreling out of the living room and threw themselves at him, barking as if they’d thought he wouldn’t be back. He rubbed ears as he waded through them and headed for the kitchen.

      “You guys want out?” They zipped to the door and he let them out in the snow in the fenced-in backyard. His phone rang before he even got his coat off. A glance at the caller ID had him bracing himself.

      “Hi, Mom.”

      “Mack. How are you?” There was concern in his mother’s voice.

      “Fine.” And because he was feeling a little contrary with how his family assumed he wasn’t, he added, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

      His mother sighed. “I don’t know. Because Darcy is home. And you help out at the tree farm. Did you see her?”

      Mack shrugged out of his jacket. “I did.” There wasn’t anything else to say—at least not to his mom.

      “How did it go?” Her voice was gentle.

      “I don’t know. Fine.” He raked a hand though his hair, remembering Darcy’s huge, stricken eyes. “Mom. What do you think I’m going to do?”

      She sighed. “I don’t know. I know how torn up you were when she left. How we thought we’d lose you, too. I know you’re an adult, but you’re still my boy. And I don’t want to see you go through that again.”

      Mack turned as he heard a noise at the back door. The dogs were ready to come in. He opened it and they tumbled through in a flurry of wet paws and snow and cold air. “It’s all in the past, Mom.”

      She made a little noise that could have been disbelief. “Okay, then. I won’t keep you. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

      Tomorrow. Thanksgiving. He’d spent one of those with a pregnant Darcy as his wife. Just before—well, before. It was how he divided everything. Before. And After. He shut the images down. “Sounds good.”

      She talked a few more minutes and Mack made all the appropriate noises before hanging up with a promise to be on time.

      He tossed the phone on the counter and sank down at one of the bar stools lining it. He covered his face with his hands and braced his elbows on the counter. Darcy. All those things he’d worked so hard to avoid were staring him in the face.

      He slammed his palms on the surface, and both dogs looked up from their bowls.

      “Sorry, guys,” he said, and they looked at him as if they saw more than he wanted them to. Wanted anyone to, for that matter.

      After a shower, he lay on his bed and turned the TV on, more for distraction than anything else. He flipped through the channels until he found a hockey game he wasn’t going to watch anyway.

      She’d looked shocked when he said he didn’t know why she’d left. How could that be? She’d never told him, she’d just said she wanted a divorce. She’d left in a hurry after that, without so much as a glance back.

      He’d been looking for her ever since.

      * * *

      Thanksgiving passed in a blur of fantastic food and frantic preparations for the season opening of Kramer Tree Farm the next morning. Darcy knew Mack was around, but there were so many other people and so much to be done she had no time to dwell on it.

      But she was always aware he was in the vicinity. Somehow she was very tuned in to him. That wasn’t a good thing.

      She hadn’t slept so well the previous night, dreaming of Mack. Now, fired up on caffeine and nerves, she figured tonight would be a repeat of the last.

      She thought of her quiet condo in Chicago, her refuge from all this emotion and pain. She missed it and the safety it offered—even if it was apparently safety from herself and her memories.

      The chatter of the employees, the Christmas music, all combined to make a festive atmosphere. The fresh six inches of snow added to it. Her aunt and uncle were thrilled. She tied the last sprig of bittersweet to the wreath she’d made as Marla came over.

      “Looks lovely,” she said with a smile. “You haven’t lost your touch.”

      Darcy laughed. “I think I can make these in my sleep. Everything going okay?”

      “Yes, thankfully. We’re pretty much set. Can I get you to take the ATV out to the warming stations and make sure they are ready to go in the morning? Hot chocolate and coffee out there, and both that and mulled cider up here.”

      “Sure.” Darcy left the completed wreath where it was and stripped off her pitch-sticky work gloves. It only took a couple minutes to gather the supplies she needed and put them in a bag. Outside, she fired up the ATV and drove down the plowed paths to the first—and largest—warming shed. Someone had left the lights on. She parked outside and went in.

      Mack turned around, surprise on his face. Darcy squeaked.

      “What are you doing here?” she blurted, and realized as his expression closed up how rude she sounded. “I mean—I didn’t mean—”

      “I know what you meant.” He nodded toward the heating unit. “Wasn’t running right, so I told your uncle I’d take a look at it.”

      “Oh. Well. I’ll be just a minute.” She held up the bag as she edged inside. “I’ve got cocoa mix for tomorrow. Got to stock up.”

      She had every right to be here. She couldn’t let him intimidate her, not that he was trying. She had nothing to hide or defend to this man. Their marriage was over.

      So why were her hands shaking?

      When she stood back up, she bumped a can of coffee, which fell off the table and crashed on the floor, leaving a fragrant trail of grounds as it rolled around. Her face burning, she practically dived for it the same moment Mack reached for it.

      “I got it,” she muttered, then inhaled sharply as Mack’s hand closed over hers. His palm was warm, and while she knew she should yank hers back, her gaze flew to his and locked on.

      He was only inches from her. His blue eyes were serious and heat sparked in them—and an answering heat spread through her. She wanted to lean forward, just a little and close the gap, see if he tasted like she remembered—

      She couldn’t afford to remember. She’d spent far too long trying to forget.

      “Darcy.” His voice was low, a little rough. She swallowed hard and pulled away, gathering the errant coffee can in her arms like a shield. His gaze was shuttered as he sat back on his heels. “Need a broom?”

      She СКАЧАТЬ