Chapter Two
Sara awoke the next morning still on a high from the not-date. She’d done a little more squirming as the night went on, but eventually it had gotten better and she’d actually been able to converse like an intelligent adult. Alex had certainly treated her like one, asking her about her classes and even getting her opinion on politics. She’d felt very grown up and pleased with herself, all things considered. He’d insisted on following her home in his car—which kind of made sense, seeing as how he only lived next door and all—just so that he could walk her to her door. Once there, she’d tensed, waiting for the moment that would tell her if they’d just been on a date. And then he’d kissed her.
On the cheek. Like a sister, or actually, like the kid next door, which she definitely was. She guessed no matter how many topics they conversed on, or even if she managed to stop blushing every time he looked at her, he’d always look at her like she was a child. Oh, well. At least now she knew. Now maybe she could move on and start fantasizing about the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy , like a normal girl. Which was fine, she supposed. McSteamy, or whatever they called him wasn’t bad looking… but he wasn’t Alex, either.
There was no sense in replaying it over again and reliving it—it was done and over with. They were friends. Or neighbors. Or ex-neighbors, seeing as how she would soon be putting the house on the market. They were… friendly. And that was that. She’d just have to do her best to put him out of her mind and move on with her life.
Sara had just gotten out of bed and was about to head to her closet to look at clothing options for the day when she heard the doorbell ring. Hmm, that was odd. It was early and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. No one other than her dorm-mate even knew she was back. With a shrug, she made her way out of the room and down the hall to the door. By the time she got there she’d decided it must be UPS with the wrong house. This time of year, they got mixed up like crazy. She hoped they hadn’t just dropped it on the doorstep—she’d hate for someone to miss the package they were expecting, probably something they planned on wrapping in big, shiny paper to put under the tree.
Only when she opened the door it wasn’t a guy in a UPS uniform after all. Instead, it was Alex’s grinning face that greeted her, taking her completely by surprise.
“Good morning,” he called out cheerily.
“Oh, um… hi.”
“I thought I’d bring breakfast. I hope I didn’t take you away from anything?”
“Ah, no. I was just about to get dressed, actually.” She gestured sheepishly to her red flannel pajamas.
“I think you look cute.”
Cute . Yep, he really did still think of her as the twelve-year-old with pigtails. Sheesh. “Well, come on in, I guess.”
“I brought you a coffee. Do you drink coffee? They bring out all kinds of stuff this time of year. This is a peppermint latte, or something like that.”
Her mood lifted, however slightly. “I love coffee and peppermint.”
Alex’s smile grew. “Lucky guess.”
She held the door open and stood aside for him to come inside. Then he waited for her to close the door and lead the way to the kitchen.
“Nice place.”
“Yeah.” She looked around, taking in the familiar light beige walls and yellow accents. Her mother had been a fan of all things yellow—buttercup was her preference, though they had throw pillows that were squash colored and gold candles on the mantel above the fireplace. The loveseat and chairs were cream and the wooden floors had been stripped and refurbished only last year, left bare except for the shag throw rugs that her mother had made herself. They were all varying shades of yellow, of course. Her father used to cheerfully grouse that it looked like they’d been invaded by a swarm of confused bees who’d forgotten where their honey was supposed to go, but her mother had never paid him any mind.
“Was that a ‘for sale’ sign I saw out front?”
“Oh, yeah.” She shrugged. “Had to happen, I guess. I’m going to start packing the house up while I’m here on break and hopefully we’ll hear something soon. Apparently, lots of couples like a house before the holidays, but… I just wanted to… you know.”
“Spend one last Christmas here?” he asked, as if he did, in fact, know.
Sara smiled at him gratefully. “Yes. That’s it, exactly.”
“Well, are you hungry?” he asked when they entered the dining room. “I hope you like doughnuts.”
“I love doughnuts. I’ll let you in on a little secret—every girl does, and those that say they don’t just eat them hiding in dark closets where no one can see them.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Alex chuckled as he lifted the lid.
Sara quickly scanned the inside of the box, an assorted mix of breakfast yummies. She spotted the one she wanted instantly—it had a chocolate glaze and was decorated with red and green sprinkles. Just looking at it made her mouth water.
“Go on,” he encouraged, as though he’d read her mind. “Help yourself.”
She reached for the chocolate ring of goodness, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He was reaching for a cruller—she didn’t know how a cruller could even compete with chocolate and sprinkles, but she guessed that was a good thing. More for her.
“So, I don’t see a Christmas tree.”
The comment took Sara by surprise and diluted the pure and utter joy of the first bite of her doughnut. She scowled at him. You couldn’t get that first bite back. “It’s early,” she said at last.
“Oh, I know it’s early for the rest of the world,” he chuckled. “But I seem to recall that you Schroders have a strict decorating schedule.”
“Yeah, well.” She shrugged, trying not to let his observation mar the enjoyment of the rest of her breakfast. “A lot has changed.”
“Ah,” was all he said, recognition dawning on his rugged features.
She would prefer they stop talking altogether and just eat, but Alex seemed to have other plans.
“I could help you. You know, if you wanted. I know that you guys prefer trees three times your own height and that can be a little hard to pull off solo.”
Okay, he was really starting to get on her nerves here. Didn’t he get that she didn’t want to talk about Christmas? Why was that so hard to understand? “Thanks, but I’ll be all right.”
“Oh, well, let me know if you change your mind.”
Sara nodded, not that she expected that she’d do anything of the kind. Still, hopefully at least the talking portion was over.
“You know, I can’t help remembering when I first moved next door. It was right after Thanksgiving, I think. You couldn’t have been older than, what, ten? You were cute.”
Ugh. There was that word again. She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose in distaste.
“What? What did I say?”
“Nothing,” she sighed. “It’s nothing.”
“No, I want to know.”
Sara set her doughnut down in defeat. Someone really should educate the man about proper breakfast etiquette when a chocolate doughnut was involved. “Look, Mr. Maxwell, I just don’t want to talk about Christmas, or my parents, or really anything, for that matter. I know you’re just stopping by to be nice, but really, you don’t have to worry about me.”
His dark brows lifted. “So, we’re back to ‘Mr. Maxwell’ now, huh?”
She shrugged. “Listen, you’ve made it clear that you only think about me as some little girl next door, so…”
“How would you like me to think of you, Sara?”
The question was asked seriously, without so much as a hint of a smile. Yet, his voice was the essence of pure seduction. She wondered if he realized it. Was that something he could turn off and on—the charm that seemed to ooze out of every pore? Or was it something that only affected her?
“I… I don’t… just—”
Right at that moment, the radio he wore clipped to his belt went off and a static-y voice filled the room, alerting them to a domestic dispute that had been reported. Sara’s eyes widened in surprise, but Alex took it in stride. “Happens a lot this time of year. Family togetherness and all that,” he commented wryly. “I’m sorry, Sara, but I have to go.”
She nodded, not knowing whether to feel disappointed or grateful that she didn’t have to continue with her stuttering and embarrass herself further. Well, at least his leaving meant that she could enjoy the rest of her doughnut in peace.
* * *
Much to her surprise and irritation, Sara found that Alex’s seemingly innocent question haunted her for the rest of the day. There was no denying that her family had been Christmas enthusiasts. It did feel a little weird to be in the house all by herself without so much as a sprig of mistletoe. She tried to push the thoughts away, determined to remain firm—just because she was spending one last Christmas in the house didn’t mean that she was going to decorate it. But the longer she sat around the house, the lonelier she began to feel without the familiar decorations. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were always at the door to greet her this time of year, not to mention that the doorway was usually bedecked with big, colorful poinsettias and tinsel. On and on the list went—nary a corner went untouched with Christmas cheer.
Maybe she could at least buy a few poinsettias for the mantel, she decided. Maybe even a snowman candle. That would be enough. She drew the line at actually using any of their old decorations. She couldn’t stomach that, not without her mother around to ooh and ah over them as her father launched into reminiscences they’d shared a hundred times. They all knew each word of every story by heart, but she and her mother listened with smiles on their faces all the same.
The memories pulled at her heartstrings and made her miss them more than ever, which was precisely the reason that she hadn’t decorated. She’d hoped to avoid this empty, desolate feeling. But now that it had surfaced, she had to do something about it before she became one of those people who curled up in the fetal position on the couch and refused to budge.
That in mind, Sara grabbed her keys and, filled with determination, walked out of the house. She put in her Taylor Swift CD to avoid having to listen to the Christmas music that filled the radio stations.
She cranked the volume when ‘Wildest Dreams’ came on and began to croon along. She was so into the song, bopping her head and swinging her shoulders from side to side in time to the beat that she didn’t notice the red stop sign approaching. Nor did she see the ball in the middle of the road. It was only the flash out of the corner of her eye that caught her attention, just in time to make her hit the brakes. As her eyes landed on the little girl—no older than five or six—hugging the recaptured ball to her chest as she stood frozen in the middle of the road, her big, wide eyes on Sara, that her heart lurched into her stomach. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw the stop sign. The one she’d run without even realizing it. And the little girl, the poor little girl who she’d scared out of her mind with her foolish mistake… it made her positively sick with dread.
Once the poor little thing had finally gotten out of the road, Sara resumed driving, this time at a snail’s pace, her heart hammering in her chest. As soon as she could, she did a U-turn and headed back for home. But it wasn’t her house she ended up parking at. Instead, she parked next door at Alex Maxwell’s, walked up to his porch, and sat down on the step.
* * *
To say that he had been less than thrilled when his breakfast plans had been interrupted would be an understatement. But it was just part of the job—a less savory part that he’d learned to cope with over the years. It was one of the things that had kept him from settling down and starting a family the way his other colleagues had. That, and the fact that he had never found the right woman.
Not that he was complaining—his life was simple, but he liked it. And besides, living in such a small town meant that the worst that typically happened was that Aunt Sherry got into the eggnog a little bit too early and started bringing Uncle Arthur’s skeletons out of the closet. Hence, the domestic dispute he’d answered earlier, because he was fortunate enough to live in a place where neighbors still called the police over such matters. When he’d pulled up, he’d found nothing more unsettling than Aunt Sherry tottering drunkenly in her high heels while a shame-faced husband begged her to remember that Lisa—whoever that was—and he had been finished over a decade earlier.
It had been all he could do to lecture Aunt Sherry on her poor behavior while keeping a straight face. Her husband had promised to get her to rest, and in the morning—or later that evening, for that matter—she’d be too hungover to want to speak above a whisper.
He’d gotten another call after that, about a pair of teenagers harassing the homeless guy who hung around the corner of Harbor and Fifth. He’d given them both a much sterner lecture than Aunt Sherry had gotten, with a promise to talk to their parents if there was a next time, then he’d put the homeless man, whose name was Art, into his car and dropped him off at the local shelter. He suspected he’d see the man again in the next week or two. Then after writing up incident reports on both cases, he’d driven the streets until his shift was over. He had a short one today, because the chief avoided handing out overtime. Not that it bothered Alex—he was single and lived comfortably. Besides, the holidays passed pretty quietly around here, which meant that overtime wasn’t really necessary.
He was pulling into his driveway when something caught his eye. Was that Sara Schroder on his doorstep? What was she doing there? Her face looked peaked in the beam of his headlights, her eyes wide. She looked, he couldn’t help thinking, like a little stray kitten that had wandered over hoping for a bowl of cream. The thought made him smile. He never knew why, but seeing Sara always made him think of cute animals.
He hadn’t thought of her except on occasion since she’d left for college. Of course, his heart had gone out to her when he’d heard about her parents. He’d been off that day and hadn’t been called to the scene of the accident, but he’d heard that it had been a brutal one. The only upside of that was that both her parents had died instantly.
Seeing her on his doorstep made his heart constrict. She was old enough to fend for herself, but she’d been the only child of, from what he could tell, a very close family. They’d loved this time of year especially, so he was sure that wasn’t easy on her. When he’d seen her the other night, he’d been determined that he’d do everything he could to help her have a good holiday.
He was just being nice, he told himself. Neighborly. People around here were like that. And besides, he’d liked her parents. He hadn’t known them overly well, though her mother had brought over a homemade pound cake once or twice a year, and had made him a batch of chicken soup once when he’d been ill. Her father had him over once for barbecue chicken a few months after Sara had left and the two of them had sipped on beer bottles and talked sports while the barbecue smoke swirled around them. They had been good, nice people, and if he was being a bit overly nice to their daughter, that was the only reason.
It didn’t have anything to do with her beautiful blond hair that cascaded down her back, those wide, innocent blue eyes, or her flawless cream complexion. Not one thing. Sure, she’d grown up to be a looker. That wasn’t why he’d let her off with a warning, and certainly not why he’d brought her breakfast this morning. He’d let her go without a ticket because he was trying to be understanding, given all that she’d been through. He knew that her world had literally been turned upside down overnight. That had to be hard to come back from.
And the breakfast… he still wasn’t really sure why he’d done that. It had been impromptu, that was for sure. The minute he’d seen that chocolate glazed doughnut bursting with colorful sprinkles, he’d thought of Sara. He’d hidden a smile the minute he’d seen her reach for it. And it wasn’t because he still thought of her as a kid, like she seemed to think. Not exactly. At twenty-two, she was a woman. He knew that. And yet… there was something so undeniably childlike about her. He wouldn’t be telling her any time soon, though, because he suspected that he’d just offend her. How could he explain that he found it charming? That what she perceived as an insult, he actually meant to be endearing? He didn’t have the faintest clue how to go about it—he didn’t know how to talk to women. That was clear, given his permanent bachelor status.
Alex parked in the driveway and opened the door, watching Sara out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were fixed on him, and only getting wider as he closed the door and began to make his way up the walkway. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but when he approached and saw her lower lip began to quiver, he grew concerned.
“Sara? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I… I did something… hor-horrible!” she exclaimed mere seconds before she burst into tears.
Oh, boy. Here he’d just been thinking that he wasn’t good with women and one had shown up on his doorstep like a reminder from the universe. Thanks, Universe. Thanks a lot .
* * *
Sara hadn’t meant to start crying, but once she had, she couldn’t seem to make it stop. She tried, especially when she saw the bewildered look on Alex’s face, but it only made the tears come faster until she was sobbing incoherently.
He stepped toward her, but she turned away, embarrassed. This had been a bad idea. She didn’t know why she’d come here. Everything was fine. Fine . Sure, something bad, really, really bad, could have happened. But it hadn’t. Everyone was fine. So what was she doing here, on his doorstep?
As soon as he caught her in her arms she knew the reason why. His strong, capable hands came around her and her head went to rest on his firm, manly chest. And just like that, she felt the tension begin to leave her body.
“Calm down,” he murmured, brushing his hand across her hair. “Everything is going to be okay. Just take deep breaths.”
This what was she’d come for. She missed her parents so much—it was a deep, permeating ache that never went away, not even for a second. Sure, she’d stopped noticing it, but that was because it had simply become a part of her. And this was what she’d needed—for someone to hold her while she cried and tell her that everything would be okay, and make her believe it, even if it was just for a second.
And said in Alex’s strong, commanding voice, she did believe it. She leaned against him, enjoying the tenderness of his concerned attention until her tears began to subside. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, took a deep, shuddering breath, and stepped away from him.
“Thanks,” Sara sniffled.
“No problem.” His blue eyes were still full of concern. “So, you want to tell me what all that was about?”
“Not particularly,” she admitted with a little laugh. “But thanks again. I’ll be fine.” She gave him a half smile and a weak wave, but when she turned to leave, Alex stepped in her path.
“Uh-uh. It doesn’t work like that. When I come home to find a girl crying on my doorstep, she doesn’t get to just walk away. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You have girls crying on your doorstep often, huh?”
“ Sara .”
Her name was punctuated with possibly the sternest stare she’d ever been subject to. She couldn’t help but squirm just a little. And yet, strangely she felt a little turned on. It was only because she was the focus of his attention. It didn’t have a thing to do with the compelling way he looked at her, or the commanding way he’d said her name. No, nothing at all.
“It’s nothing,” she tried again, weakly.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now get to talking, missy.”
She flushed at the admonishing nickname. God, why was she acting like this? She wasn’t some love-struck teenager anymore! She was a grown woman! She nearly had a college degree to prove it! But somehow, being under Alex’s scrutinizing gaze and hearing his stern voice made her forget those things as though the clock had indeed turned back. When he called her missy , which was quickly followed by crossing his big, strong arms over his manly chest, she felt like a little girl who was about to get a good scolding.
More bizarre still was the fact that she didn’t mind it.
“Ah, well…” She cast her eyes on the ground and scuffed her shoes across the pavement. “Um…”
“Yes?”
Was it possible for him to sound even sterner ? She hadn’t thought so, and yet, an anticipatory shiver ran along her spine. “Ah, I was driving today…”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was on my way to, um, buy some Christmas decorations.” She peeked up at him to see that his eyes were focused on her, waiting. She looked away again. “And, well, I was sort of listening to my music too loud, I guess.”
“You guess?”
Oh, why did hearing that authoritative voice make her feel all squirmy inside? She felt nervous and excited all at once, which didn’t make much sense, but felt delicious just the same. “Yes, Sir. Well, anyway, I wasn’t really paying attention… and I…” This was the hard part. Sara swallowed over the lump in her throat. She knew she’d be in for it once she came clean. He was a cop, after all. He would probably be duty-bound to give her a ticket. And she was sure she’d get an earful on top of it. “I might have run a stop sign.”
“You might have?”
Oh, he was ticked. She could hear it, though he didn’t raise his voice in the slightest. Just knowing that he was disappointed in her made her eyes begin to well again. “I… I did.”
“ Sara .”
There it was again. She winced at the disapproval in his voice. She’d known it was coming, but it still hurt to hear it. And worse, she wasn’t even done. When he heard the rest, she’d bet he’d be yelling, all right.
“We talked about this,” he continued.
“I… I know. And, uh… well, that’s not all.”
“You know what, give me just a minute. I think we need to finish this discussion inside.”
She looked up again, uncertain. Not that she objected to going into his house—truth was, she’d always wondered what it looked like. But she didn’t know why his suggestion would make her tummy drop, why she’d suddenly be filled with a nervous anticipation. “Um… ah, sure, I guess.”
He gave her one decisive nod and moved to his door. She watched as he unlocked it, and then he was motioning for her to follow him. When she stepped closer, he slid to the side, holding the door open for her. Giving him a dubious glance, she walked inside. When he closed the door behind them, it somehow had an ominous finality to it. What, she couldn’t help but wonder, had she gotten herself into?