Single Dads Collection. Lynne Marshall

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СКАЧАТЬ glanced over. The smile he gave her was careful, tentative. A wave of guilt washed through her. She’d been so standoffish with him the past two days that he probably thought she hated him.

      “Did you come here often as a child?”

      “Every year with my dad.” She laughed, remembering some of the more memorable years. “He always had a vision of the tree he wanted. Some holidays it was a short, fat tree. Others it was a tree so tall it barely fit into our living room.”

      He smiled. “Sounds fun.”

      “It was.” She swallowed. After her behavior the past two days, he would be within his rights to be grouchy with her. Actually, he could have refused to take this trip with her. Instead, here he was, with his daughter, ready to help pick out a tree and carry it into her house for her.

      With a quick breath for courage, she said, “What about you? Did you have any Christmas traditions as a kid?”

      “Not really traditions as much as things we’d pull out of a hat every year to make it special or fun.”

      “Like what?”

      He peeked over at her. “Well, for one, we’d make as big of a deal out of Christmas Eve as we did Christmas. My mom would bake a ham and make a potato salad and set out cookies, cakes, pies and then invite everyone from the neighborhood.” He chuckled. “Those were some fun nights. We never knew what to expect. Sometimes the neighbors would have family visiting and they’d bring them along. Some nights, we’d end up around the piano singing carols. One night, we all put on our coats and went caroling to the people on the street who couldn’t make it to our house for some reason.”

      “Sounds fun.”

      “It was fun.”

      He said the words as if he were resurrecting long-forgotten memories and it hit her that he’d been left that Christmas two years ago as much as Finley had been. She wondered how much of his own Christmas joy had been buried in the pain of the past two years.

      “Tell me more.”

      “After the big shindig on Christmas Eve, you’d think Christmas day would be small potatoes, but my mom always found a way to make it special.” He laughed. “I remember the year she tried to make apple-and-cinnamon pancakes.”

      “Sounds yummy.”

      “Only if you like charcoal. She got it into her head for some reason or another that they’d taste better if she didn’t use the grill but fried them in a frying pan the way her mom used to when she was little.”

      “Uh-oh.”

      “She couldn’t adjust the temperature and most of them burned. At one point the pan itself started burning.” He shook his head and laughed. “I’ve always been glad my dad was quick with a fire extinguisher.”

      Finley began swinging their arms back and forth. Rory took another deep breath of the pine-scented air. A small shudder worked through Shannon’s heart. It was the perfect outing. Just like a mom and dad with their daughter, they walked the long thin rows, looking for the tree that would make their living room complete. And every time they’d start walking after pausing to examine a tree, Finley would swing their hands.

      “What about this one?”

      Rory had stopped at a towering blue spruce. Shannon studied it critically. “You don’t think it’s too tall?”

      “Better too tall than too short. If it’s too tall, we can always shave a few inches from the bottom.”

      She looked at it again. The needles were soft but bushy. Healthy. The branches were thick. There were no “holes,” as her father would say. No places where you could see the wall behind the tree because there was no branch filling in the space.

      “I like it.”

      “Then let’s tag it,” Rory said, reaching out to grab a branch and attach the tag. His arm brushed against her and Shannon jumped back. When their gazes met, she immediately regretted it.

      He was so good to her, so kind and she was nothing but jumpy.

      She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

      He pulled away. “You’re just nervous.”

      That sounded like as good of an excuse as any. Especially since it was true. He did make her nervous. He made her shaky and antsy and all kinds of things because she liked him. Still, she didn’t need to tell him why she was nervous.

      “It’s cold. It’s close to Christmas. I have lots of work to do.” She shrugged. “So, yes, I’m nervous.”

      He cast a quick glance down at Finley, who was preoccupied with fitting her little pink boot into the footprint of someone who had walked down the row before them. “You’re not nervous because you like me?” He smiled endearingly. “Not even a little bit?”

      His question was so unexpected that she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, stalling, trying to figure out what to say. She didn’t want to insult or encourage him.

      Finally, confused and out of her element, she said, “I’m not sure.”

      He laughed. “You like me.”

      Her breath stuttered into her lungs at his confidence. She was on the verge of denying it, like a third grader confronted by the cute guy in class and too afraid to admit her crush, but he didn’t give her time.

      He turned and faced Finley. “Want to stay with Shannon or walk back with me so that we can get one of the tree cutters back here to help us out?”

      She didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll stay with Shannon.”

      He gave Shannon a wink before he turned and headed down the row. Finley said, “I like your tree.”

      Shannon glanced down with a smile. “I do, too.”

      “My dad picked out a good one. He’s smart.”

      “Yes, he is smart,” Shannon agreed, but her throat was closing and her knees were growing weak. He hadn’t confronted her about liking him to give her a chance to argue. He’d made a statement of fact, then walked away, as if giving her time to accept it.

      Accept it?

      She knew she liked him. She fought her feelings for him every day. He hadn’t needed to tell her. He hadn’t needed to get it out in the open for them to deal with.

      She sucked in a breath. Stupid to panic. In another day or two, he’d be done looking at her store. Then he’d leave. And the rest of their dealings would be done through lawyers. Even if they had to meet to sign an agreement, it would be at a lawyer’s office.

      They wouldn’t spend enough time together for her “liking him” to mean anything. Even if he liked her back.

      Which he did—

      Oh, dear God. That’s why he’d said that! He was preparing her to hear him tell her that he liked her.

      With СКАЧАТЬ