Chapter 10
WYNTER
Wynter was in trouble.
That was the only definitive thing she knew to be true.
It was impossible not to spend time with Marcus and wish that things were different. She couldn’t stand up on stage with him, singing a silly song, and watching him grin at her like she was his whole world, while at the same time not wanting to succumb to the fantasy.
And it was absolutely unreasonable to demand that she stop thinking about the whole experience over and over again. Oh, Lord, what do I do now? I can’t seem to stop these feelings for Marcus.
“Wynter, dear, are you well?”
She jumped at the sound of Gram’s voice and turned to face her. “Of course, why do you ask?”
Grams arched an eyebrow, then gestured toward the stovetop.
Wynter followed the motion and gasped before yanking the pan of scrambled eggs clear of the burner. Shoot! She’d burned them. “I’m so sorry, Grams. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I realize that, dear.”
She blushed and wafted some of the smoke clear. Thinking about Marcus did things to her that she wasn’t proud of. That’s why she needed to stop spending time with him.
But how was she supposed to do that when he was here on a daily basis, fixing things and adjusting things?
He’d even set up the nativity scene, hung stockings by the fireplace, and filled the house with her family’s Christmas keepsakes.
He was in her space, filling it with his scent, his laughter, and the low timbre of his voice.
Wynter groaned and moved the hot pan toward the sink. “How about I make us some oatmeal instead?”
Grams wrinkled her nose. “How about you call Marcus and ask him to pick us up something from town. A bagel sounds nice.”
“Grams,” Wynter said, trying not to chuckle at her boldness. “He’s not your assistant. We can’t make demands of him like that.”
“He said to call him if we ever needed anything.”
“I’m not calling him. He’s already doing too much.”
“Oh, pish posh. He’s happy to help. And don’t try lying to me. I’ve seen the way you two have started reconnecting. I think he’s enjoying his time here as much as you are.”
Wynter rolled her eyes and pulled off her apron. “I think you’re trying too hard to play matchmaker. Maybe you need some new books. How about I go to town and pick up some when I grab us some bagels?”
Her grandmother scowled, but she didn’t argue.
Thank goodness.
Wynter grabbed her coat from the hook, and as she was about to head out the door, Marcus knocked. Well, at least she’d be able to avoid him for a few hours. Wynter reached for the knob and pulled open the door.
Her eyes landed on Marcus’s handsome face before dipping to the brown sack he held in his hand. He must have noticed her curiosity because he lifted the bag and held it out to her. “Nikki makes the best homemade bagels. I thought I’d bring some for breakfast if you haven’t eaten yet.”
Wynter couldn’t move. Not when she heard her grandmother’s soft laugh at her back. Not when Marcus’s quiet voice attempted to get past her shock.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
“You… don’t like bagels?” Marcus asked.
Grams answered from behind her. “Oh, she loves them. That hasn’t changed, hon.
Come on in. It’s freezing out there.” Grams moved forward, and Wynter was vaguely aware of Marcus’s warm body brushing up against hers.
His fingertips grazed her own, and that new scintillating tingle raced up her arm from the contact.
“Wynter,” Grams called. “You coming?”
“Smells like something got burned. Everything okay?” Marcus had directed the question at Grams as they were entering the kitchen. Wynter turned to stare after him. How had he known? He couldn’t have, could he? No. He’d said Nikki made them fresh this morning.
In a daze, she pulled her coat off and draped it over the hook. Then she made her way toward the kitchen, catching the two in mid-conversation.
“Oh, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Wynter isn’t getting out much these days. Besides that night she went out with Rose, of course.”
Wynter closed her eyes briefly, praying for patience. “What are you trying to rope me into now?”
“Marcus’s family is going ice skating tonight. I thought you might want to tag along.”
Wynter blushed deeply. “Grams,” she groaned.
“What? You love ice skating.”
“That’s beside the point.”
Marcus watched their interaction with obvious amusement. His eyes bounced from one Delaney to the next, and Wynter wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile from his face. But then he reached out and took her hand, stopping her argument mid-sentence. “Like old times.”
She snapped her mouth shut. Then bit back an exasperated smile. There was no arguing this time. They might not have ever sung karaoke before, but they used to love going ice skating together.
His thumb traced circles on the inside of her wrist, forcing her to look down at where he still held her. It was far too easy for him to turn her head into mush, and he didn’t even realize it. Her lids fluttered as she attempted to stop her brain from short-circuiting. “I… don’t…”
“It’ll be fun. We’ll get some hot chocolate and make up stories about the couples skating around the rink. Just like we used to.”
Against her better judgment, she met his eyes. Three years’ worth of Christmas memories flashed between them. Then she nodded. “Okay.”
Wynter snorted and nearly spit out the swallow of her lukewarm hot chocolate that she’d sipped from her cup. “You’re terrible.”
It had been far too easy to fall back into the friendship she had with Marcus.
He chuckled. “You can’t tell me he doesn’t look like Santa in disguise. Like he just came from the gym.”
She allowed herself one more peek at the man who looked like Hollywood’s version of Santa.
But just like Marcus had described, he was dressed in a sweatsuit complete with a headband.
Honestly, she was surprised he hadn’t been stopped by children as he skated around the rink with a younger woman who was probably his daughter. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”
Marcus jutted his chin toward a young couple—one who looked fresh out of high school. “What’s their story?”
She tilted her head and smiled. “High school sweethearts. He fell in love with her when they were in kindergarten.” This was their game. One of them started the story and the other added to it.
Marcus skated beside her, his movements slow and deliberate. “She was quiet. Shy. And everyone thought she was weird because she would rather read books about bugs than play with dolls.”
Wynter snapped her head around to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He wore a thoughtful expression and simply continued.
“But he liked that she was different. She made him feel special because she saw the world in technicolor instead of black and white.”
“Marcus,” she whispered.
He glanced at her, and the lopsided grin was nearly enough to bring her to her knees. Then he cleared his throat and grew serious. At some point he grasped her hand and tugged her to the side of the rink before forcing her to face him. “Why did you say we were friends?”
She blinked, confused. “What?”
“When we got here and my nephew asked you if you were my girlfriend. You looked…” His brows creased. “You looked like a deer in headlights and blurted that we were friends.”
“Because we are,” she stammered. The question shouldn’t have thrown her off her game like it had. The only reasonable explanation for her overreaction was the way Rose had treated her the night of karaoke. And the way Marcus had gone along with it. “Marcus, we can’t be more than friends.”
His frown remained.
Wynter glanced around, feeling her anxiety begin to return. Marcus had a way of making her feel cornered, even though she had infinite directions she could escape. He wasn’t even holding onto her anymore. He was just… staring. She swallowed hard. “That’s all I can offer you, Marcus.”
“But we could be more,” he whispered.
She shook her head, folding her arms as she did so. “No. You’re wrong.”
“You can’t tell me that you haven’t felt this… connection.”
“Of friendship,” she insisted. “We’ve always been good together. There’s no denying that.”
This time he did reach for her hand, but she scooted back. Pain flickered in his eyes, and she looked away. His voice was low, pleading almost. “Wynter…”
“I’m leaving, Marcus, as soon as Grams is better and my contract is up. Or have you forgotten that?” The words rasped from her throat, and she fought the tears that threatened. Why was she so emotional? This wasn’t like her. This overwhelming feeling of wishing for more wasn’t okay.
“That’s hardly an excuse. You don’t have to leave,” he urged. “Circumstances can change.”
“Not this time.” She lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Just believe me when I tell you that we’re too different.
There’s so much about us that wouldn’t work.
” It was the closest she’d ever get to telling him that she’d consider a relationship with him.
That she’d want something more than friendship.
But that was as far as she’d allow herself to go.
The truth of the matter was that she knew she wouldn’t survive the fallout if they did try something and it failed.
Even before she’d met Marcus, she’d known she wasn’t cut out for marriage.
She didn’t want it. But Marcus, sweet, untainted-by-hardship Marcus, did.
He wanted a family. He wanted kids. He wanted stability because he believed it was possible.
And maybe it was.
For him.
Wynter was the product of dysfunction. And what did dysfunction breed? Even more of it.
She pleaded with him silently. Her eyes beseeching him to understand that she’d lost their friendship once already.
It had broken her, and yes, it had been her fault.
But it had only taken a week for her to fall back into the friendship she’d been so dependent on during her years in Copper Creek.
She loved this camaraderie that they shared.
If a kiss had been enough to make her retreat and break the strongest friendship she’d had, then attempting something more with him could destroy everything. Her whole life.
Six years ago, she’d kissed her best friend. She’d been a coward, and she’d run.
And Marcus hadn’t fought for her beyond calls and text messages. He hadn’t tracked her down and knocked on her door to demand an explanation. And when her grandfather had died, he hadn’t insisted on anything more than their strained friendship.
Wynter didn’t blame him. It had been a tough situation. But it had proven to her that while he cared for her, their friendship wasn’t deep enough to risk it all.
She smiled, but inside, she felt sick to her stomach. “Please, Marcus… Drop it.”
His expression was still full of hurt and confusion. It was clear he wanted to say more. But Wynter couldn’t handle the barrage of questions he probably had. She was a terrible liar, and all it would take was the right question for Marcus to know how scared she was of him breaking her heart.
Marcus moved closer and reached out to her. She shook her head sharply. He’d ignored her request to drop the subject. This wasn’t going to end here if she didn’t put a stop to it.
“I’m sorry, Marcus. I think I should head home.”
His jaw worked, and he glanced around the rink. Then he nodded. “I can take you.”
“No. Don’t leave. Hang out with your family. I’ll catch an Uber.” Without waiting for his response, she skated toward the exit. Thankfully, Marcus didn’t follow.