Chapter 6
Six
“That shouldn’t have happened,” Slade said at last.
“I suppose you want an apology,” Shelly responded, standing and brushing the snow from her pants. In spite of her efforts
to appear normal, her hands trembled and her pulse continued to hammer away madly. From the beginning she’d known that his
kiss would have this effect on her, and she cursed her traitorous heart.
He stared, clearly shocked that she would suggest such a thing. “I should be the one to apologize to you.”
“Why? Because you kissed me?”
“And because I’m engaged.”
“I know.” Her voice rose several decibels. “What’s in a kiss, anyway? It wasn’t a big deal. Right?” Liar, her heart accused, continuing to beat erratically. It had been the sweetest, most wonderful kiss of her life. One that would
haunt her forever.
“It won’t happen again,” he said without looking at her.
He rose and held himself stiffly, staying a good two feet away from her.
His facade slipped tightly into place, locking his expression right before her eyes.
She was reminded of the man she’d first seen on the plane—that polished, impeccable businessman who looked at the world with undisguised indifference.
“As I said, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Right,” he answered. Her dismissive attitude toward his kiss didn’t appear to please him. He stalked in the direction of
the trees and stopped at the one he’d offered as a compromise. Without soliciting her opinion, he began sawing away at its
narrow trunk.
Within minutes the tree toppled to the ground, stirring up the snow. She walked over, prepared to help him load the small
fir onto the sled, but he wouldn’t let her.
“I’ll do it,” he muttered gruffly.
Offended, she folded her arms and stepped back, feeling awkward. She knew she would feel better if they could discuss the
kiss openly and honestly.
“I knew it was going to happen.” She’d been wanting him to kiss her all morning, in fact.
“What?” he barked, heading in the direction of the house, tugging the sled and Christmas tree behind him.
“The kiss,” she called after him. “And if I was honest, I’d also admit that I wanted it to happen. I was even hoping it would.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it.”
He was making her angrier every time he opened his mouth. “I said if I was being honest, but since neither of us is, then apparently you’re right to suggest we drop the issue entirely.”
This time he ignored her, taking long strides and forcing her into a clumsy jog behind him. The north wind whipped her scarf across her mouth, and she tucked it more securely around her neck. Then she turned and walked backward, so the bitter wind stopped buffeting her face.
Unexpectedly her boot hit a small rock hidden under the snow, and she momentarily lost her balance. Flinging her arms out
in an effort to catch herself, she went tumbling down the hill, somersaulting head over heels until she lay spread-eagled
at the base of the slope.
Slade raced after her, falling to his knees at her side, his eyes clouded with emotion. “Do you have to make a game out of
everything?”
What was he talking about? She’d nearly killed herself, and he was accusing her of acrobatics in the snow. She struggled to give him a sassy comeback,
but the wind had been knocked from her lungs and she discovered that she couldn’t speak.
“Are you all right?” He looked genuinely concerned.
“I don’t know,” she whispered tightly. Getting the appropriate amount of oxygen to her lungs seemed to require all her energy.
“Don’t move.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
“Where does it hurt?”
“‘Where doesn’t it?’ would be a more fitting question.” Then, giving the lie to her previous answer, she levered herself up
on one elbow and wiggled her legs. “I do this now and then so I can appreciate how good it feels to breathe,” she muttered
sarcastically.
“I said don’t move,” Slade barked. “You could’ve seriously injured something.”
“I did,” she admitted. “My pride.” She got slowly to her feet, then bowed mockingly before him and said, “Stay tuned for my next trick when I’ll single-handedly leap tall buildings and alter the course of the mighty Columbia River.”
“You’re not funny.”
“There goes my career in comedy, then.”
“Here.” He tucked a hand under her elbow. “Let me help you back to the house.”
“This may come as a shock to you, but I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”
“Nothing you do anymore could shock me.”
“That sounds amazingly like a challenge.”
His indifference visibly melted away as he stared down at her with warm, vulnerable eyes. “Trust me, it isn’t.” He claimed
her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Come on, your father’s probably getting worried.”
Shelly sincerely doubted it. What Slade was really saying was that things would be safer for them both back at the house.
Temptation could more easily be kept at bay with someone else present.
He let go of her hand and placed his palm at the small of her back, and they continued their short sojourn across the snowy
landscape.
The house looked amazingly still and dark as they approached. Only a whisper of smoke drifted into the clear sky from the
chimney, as though the fire had been allowed to die. She had expected to hear Andy Williams crooning from the stereo and perhaps
smell the lingering scent of freshly popped popcorn.
Instead, they were greeted by an empty, almost eerie silence.
While Slade leaned the tree against the side of the house, she ventured inside. A note propped against the sugar bowl in the middle of the kitchen table commanded her attention. She walked into the room and picked it up.
Sick horse at the Adlers’ place. Ted W came for me and will bring me home. Call if you need me.
Love,
Dad.
She swallowed tightly, clenching the paper in her hand as the back door shut.
“Dad got called out to a neighbor’s. Sick horse,” she announced without turning around. “Would you like a cup of coffee? The
pot’s full, although it doesn’t look too fresh. Dad must have put it on before he left. He knew how cold we’d be when we got
back.” She realized she was babbling and immediately stopped. Without waiting for his response, she reached for two mugs.
“Coffee sounds fine.” His voice was heavy with dread. The same dread she felt pressing against her heart. Her father was the
buffer they needed, and now he was gone.
She heard Slade drag out a kitchen chair, and she placed the mug in front of him. Her thick lashes fanned downward as she
avoided his gaze.
Reluctantly she pulled out the chair opposite his and joined him at the table. “I suppose we should put up the tree.”
He paused, then said, “We could.”
From all the enthusiasm he displayed, they could have been discussing income taxes. Her heart ached, and she felt embarrassed for having made the suggestion. No doubt Margaret had her tree flocked and decorated without ever involving Slade.
Her hands tightened around the mug, the heat burning the sensitive skin of her palms.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I think I’ll wait until Dad’s back. We—every year since Mom died, we’ve done it together. It’s a fun time.” The walls of
the kitchen seemed to be closing in on them. With every breath she drew, she became more aware of the man sitting across from
her. They’d tried to pretend, but the kiss had changed everything. The taste of him lingered on her lips, and unconsciously
she ran her tongue over them, wanting to recapture that sensation before it disappeared forever.
His eyes followed her movement, and he abruptly stood and marched across the kitchen to place his half-full mug in the sink.
“I’ll see to the fire,” he offered, hastily leaving the room.
“Thank you.”
After emptying her own mug in the sink, she joined him, standing in the archway between the kitchen and living room.
She watched as he placed a small log in the red coals, and in moments flames were sizzling over the dry bark. Soon the fire
crackled and hissed, hungry flames attacking the fresh supply of wood. Ol’ Dan got slowly off the couch where he’d been sleeping
and lay down in front of the fire with a comfortable sigh.
“I wonder what’s happening with the road crew,” Slade said.
“They could be here anytime.”
They turned simultaneously toward the phone and collided. She felt the full impact of the unexpected contact, and her breath
caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat, but not from pain.
“Shelly.” His arms went around her faster than a shooting star. “Did I hurt you?”
One hand was trapped against his broad chest, while the other hung loosely at her side. “I’m fine,” she managed, her voice
as unsteady as his. Still, he didn’t release her.
Savoring his nearness and warmth, she closed her eyes and pressed her head to his chest, listening to the beat of his heart
beneath her ear.
Slade went utterly still, and then his arms tightened around her and he groaned her name.
Could anything that felt this wonderful, this good, be wrong? Shelly knew the answer, and her head buzzed with a warning.
Even though her eyes were closed, she could see flashing red lights. Slade had held and kissed her only once, and he had instantly
regretted it. He’d even refused to talk about it, closing himself off from her. This couldn’t end well.
Yet all the logical arguments melted away like snow in a spring thaw when she was in his arms. His lips moved to her hair,
and he breathed in deeply, as though to capture her scent.
“Shelly,” he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion. “Tell me to stop.”
The words wouldn’t form. She knew that she should break away and save them both the agony of guilt. But she couldn’t.
“I want you to hold me,” she whispered. “Just hold me.”
His arms tightened even further, anchoring her against him, and his lips nuzzled her ear, shooting tingles of pleasure down
her spine. From her ear he found her cheek, her hair. For an eternity he hesitated.
The phone rang and they broke apart with a suddenness that made her lose her balance. Slade’s hand on her shoulder steadied
her. Brushing the hair from her face, she drew a steadying breath and picked up the phone.
“Hello.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Shelly? Are you all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Oh, hi, Dad.” She glanced up guiltily at Slade. His returning look was heavy with his own unhappiness. He brushed a hand
through his hair and walked to the picture window, and she returned her attention to the call. “We got the tree.”
“That’s good.” Her father paused. “Are you sure everything’s fine?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she answered, somewhat defensively. “How are things at the Adlers’?”
“Not good. I may be here awhile. I’m sorry to be away from you, but Slade’s there to keep you company.”
“How . . . long will you be?”
“A couple of hours, three at the most. You and Slade will be all right, won’t you?”
But her father didn’t sound any more convinced than she felt when she replied, “Oh, sure.”
She replaced the receiver. Without the call as a buffer, the air in the room seemed to vibrate with Slade’s presence. He turned
around and met her gaze. “I’ve got to get to Seattle. Bauer said he’s going to be at the office late anyway, finishing up
some things so he can enjoy Christmas without work hanging over his head. I’ve really got to get there.”
What he was really saying was that he had to get away from her. “I know,” she told him. “But how?”
“How’d your dad get to that sick horse?”
“The Adlers’ neighbor, Ted Wilkens, has a pickup with a plow blade. He came for Dad.”
“Would it be possible for him to take me into Seattle?”
Shelly hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not sure. I’ll call.”
“Although . . . it’s Christmas Eve.” He sounded hesitant, so different from the man she’d overheard on the phone yesterday, the man who hadn’t cared about setting up a meeting for Christmas Eve.
“They’re good people,” she said, reaching for the phone. Slade paced nearby while she talked to Connie Wilkens.
“Well?” He studied her expectantly as she hung up the phone.
“Ted’s out helping someone else, but Connie thinks he’ll be back before dark. She suggested that we head their way, and by
the time we arrive, Ted should be home.”
“You’re sure he won’t mind?”
“Positive. Ted and Connie are always happy to help out their friends.”
“They really are good people—like you and your dad,” he murmured softly.
She laced her fingers together in front of her. “We’re neighbors, although they’re a good four miles from here. And friends.”
She scooted down in front of Ol’ Dan and petted him in long, soothing strokes. “I told Connie that we’d start out soon.”
Slade’s brow furrowed as her words sank in. “But how? The tractor?”
“I couldn’t run that thing if my life depended on it.”
“Shelly, we can’t trek that distance on foot.”
“I wasn’t thinking of walking.”
“What other way is there?”
A smile graced her soft features until it touched her eyes, which sparkled with mischief. “We can always take the horses.”