Chapter Ten
Carson was awash with longing for Larkin.
But he also was afraid. Of moving too fast. Of scaring her off.
Larkin was the bravest woman he knew, but she’d been traumatized and some of that had been his fault.
He may not have been the one to physically hurt her.
But he hadn’t protected her. And he hadn’t been there to help her when it was over.
He could sense her trepidation as they paused in front of the historic old house. Should they go to the right, toward the garage and his private suite? The Twins’ Retreat offered warmth and privacy and comfort.
But he sensed it would also set the stage for a whole lot of pressure.
Maybe too much privacy and comfort, especially with that big bed, and all it signified.
Instead, he led her along the pathway to the porch.
A bright light shone over the front door, but the far end of the porch was both in shadow and protected from the driving snow.
Larkin had begun to tremble, ever so slightly. He put his hands on her shoulders and faced her. “Are you cold?”
“I…don’t think so.” She tilted her head up, so he could see her eyes. Her beautiful, trusting, enticing eyes. “I’m just nervous. Does that sound stupid?”
“Not at all. And if you’re nervous, let’s say goodnight now. The last thing I want is to make you feel pressured.”
“I don’t feel pressured. The truth is—I’ve been wanting you to kiss me since almost the first moment I saw you again.”
He could feel his heart bumping hard in his chest. “So, you’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying yes.”
He slid his hands from her shoulders to the sides of her beautiful face.
Her skin was cool, but also silky and soft.
Gently he lowered his mouth to hers and he heard her sigh as she relaxed into him.
He let her set the pace, let her be the one to deepen the kiss, to pull him in closer, to kiss him again.
“Lark,” he said between kisses. “Lark, Lark…” Her name was a song, a talisman against every lonely moment he’d had since she’d been gone. There wasn’t another woman in all of Montana who could ever compare to her.
As the moment stretched on, his trepidation vanished.
She was good. This was good. He’d been reining himself in, nervous about her reaction, but she was good.
They were good. He let out a groan and gave in to the temptation to kiss the soft skin by her ear, then the line of her sweet neck, to that spot, the small hollow, where she’d always loved—
Abruptly he became aware that she’d stiffened. It was only a momentary reaction—already she was yielding to him again, tangling her fingers into his hair. But still he pulled back.
“I’m sorry. I had a weird flash of panic there,” she whispered.
“I moved too fast.”
“You didn’t,” she insisted. “Believe me, I was loving it. That’s why…”
Her voice trailed off, but he suspected what she’d been going to say was that it was her own desire that had frightened her. Damn that Andrew. He’d taken something that should be good and natural and healthy and perverted it for her.
He kissed Larkin’s forehead. “I loved this too. Every second of it. But let’s take a breather, okay? I want everything that happens between us to be right.”
“You’re such a gentleman. And I love that about you.”
The word “love” hovered in the air as they broke apart and headed to the front door. He almost told her that he loved everything about her. But he didn’t want to scare her off.
“Thanks for a wonderful evening, Carson. Let’s do it again soon, okay?” Then, as he held the door open for her, she gave him a saucy wink and disappeared inside.
For a long moment he stood there. Slowly he could feel the smile she’d left him with fade from his face. That had been a hell of a kiss, and he couldn’t deny that he’d wanted so much more.
But there was also a festering inside of him. An anger that she’d ever been hurt, ever been forced by someone bigger and stronger. He suspected this feeling wasn’t going to fade. It was going to keep eating at him until he did something about it.
*
Amy found the nighttime routine with Robin soothing.
She took her time giving him his bath, watching him splash with his water toys and have gibberish conversations with his yellow rubber duck.
Later, she and Chet tucked him between them in their bed and took turns reading all his favorite stories until he finally dropped off to sleep, at which point Chet gently carried him to his crib.
When he returned, he handed her a cup of herbal tea.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He sank down beside her in their bed. “God, I love that kid.”
“He’s pretty wonderful, isn’t he?” She sipped the tea, appreciating Chet’s efforts to keep her relaxed and calm after the distressing event with the brownies. But without Robin to distract her, that’s exactly where her thoughts returned.
Chet had returned from the Sheriff’s Office with mostly reassuring news. Since possession of marijuana was legal in Montana, unless someone complained they were unlikely to face legal problems over the brownies.
Their reputation, however, was another matter.
“Sorry, Chet, I know you’re trying to help me relax, but I can’t stop wondering who could have pulled that stunt with the brownies. It might have been an acceptable prank at a college frat party. Not at a community fundraiser.”
“Believe me, I’m wondering who was responsible too. It bugs me that someone we invited into our house would think it was okay to do something they had to know would hurt us.”
Yes, that was the worst part. Not so much the damage done by the prank itself. But knowing someone had meant to cause them trouble.
*
Monday, December 22
The next morning Amy waited anxiously for Gibson to appear in the dining room.
He was typically one of the last guests down for breakfast and today proved no exception.
It was eight on the nose when he finally took his place at the table.
Usually, Chet got their guests their coffee, but Amy took his Americano to him personally.
He looked the same as normal. Well-groomed and well-dressed, and relatively bright-eyed. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she placed the mug in front of him.
“Perfectly well, thank you.” He shook out his napkin, then placed it on his lap. “I might be even better if I’d had a few more of those brownies.”
Was that a twinkle in his eye? Amy might have played along if she wasn’t so worried. “Again, I apologize. Chet and I have no idea how those brownies got there.”
“You might want to look into that aspect of it,” Gibson said. There was no twinkle in his eyes now. “Weed is one thing. What if the brownies had been laced with something stronger?”
The Kettles stared down at their breakfasts, their expressions alarmed, and Amy felt as if all the blood in her body had sunk to her feet.
She wanted to defend her kitchen, but Gibson was right.
If someone had managed to put out brownies laced with marijuana, how could she guarantee the safety of any of the food she was serving?
Carson came to her rescue. “Hell, that was just someone’s idea of a joke. You can be sure those brownies didn’t come out of Jo’s kitchen. I’ve never eaten any finer breakfasts than those we’ve had here at Bramble House.”
“That’s true,” Peter Kettles said, picking up his fork and attacking his eggs and bacon with relish.
Amy caught Carson’s eye, and he gave her a wink.
Spirits up, sister, he seemed to be saying, and she appreciated the message.
She couldn’t let the events of the past few days destroy her confidence.
She was proud of Bramble House and needed to act that way.
She also needed to be present for her guests and not worrying about things she couldn’t change.
“I never heard what you thought of your sleigh ride, Marjorie and Peter. Did you enjoy it?”
“The horses were lovely,” Marjorie said. “And the Christmas tree farm was so pretty—I felt like I was inside a living Christmas card.”
The words were positive, but Amy sensed a lack of enthusiasm in her tone. Peter, watching his wife, also seemed to notice this.
“Remember the year Rachel sang ‘Jingle Bells’ at the Christmas concert? You said how much fun it would be to actually take a ride on a one-horse open sleigh?”
“What a memory you have, Peter. Yes, I suppose I did say that.”
There was no missing the sadness in Marjorie’s voice now. Perhaps it was time to move the conversation along. “Heads up on the weather, everyone. The snow is supposed to be picking up later in the afternoon. So it might be a good day to stick close to home.”
“Not a problem for me,” Gibson said. “I’m going to take a long walk and then spend the afternoon at the library.”
“A walk sounds good to me too,” Marjorie said. “Then maybe some board games by the fire in the sitting room?”
“Cribbage?” Peter said hopefully.
“You’re on.” Marjorie looked around the table. “Anyone else want to play? We enjoy doubles.”
“I used to play with my husband,” Ethel said, looking wistful.
“Grandpa taught me to play before I could read,” Larkin said. “Let’s take on the Kettles after your nap, Gran. What do you say?”
“I say yes.” Ethel beamed. “At least cribbage is something I can do with my bum hip.”
“You’re going to be back to normal before you know it,” Larkin said encouragingly. “You’re doing so well with your exercises.”
“What about you, Carson?” Amy sought out her brother’s gaze. “Are you working on the renovations again today?”
“This afternoon for sure. But if Ethel’s into reading again this morning, I was going to try and persuade Larkin to come tobogganing with me. All this fresh snow is looking pretty tempting.”
“Yes, I want to read, and yes you should go outside and play in the snow,” Ethel said to her granddaughter.
“I haven’t gone tobogganing since I was a kid,” Larkin said.
“Such talk. You’re young. Have fun while you can.” Ethel patted her hip ruefully. “Never think you’re too old until you really are.”
“Good point,” she conceded. “But where do we get toboggans?”
“We have assorted sleds and toboggans in our garage,” Amy said. “Please help yourself.”
Amy noticed Ethel smiling with approval.
This wasn’t the first time Ethel had encouraged Larkin and Carson to spend time together.
Amy was glad her brother had Ethel’s approval, but she wasn’t so sure encouraging a romance between him and Larkin was a good idea.
She didn’t want Carson to get hurt when Christmas was over and Larkin returned home to Denver.
*
The best toboggan hill around Marietta, bar none, was the long slope above Miracle Lake, Amy had told them, and as Larkin raced Carson down the big hill for the first time, screaming and yelling just as loudly as the kids and teenagers all around them, Larkin knew Amy had been right.
Carson blasted past her for the win, and she rewarded him by shoulder-checking him into the snow. He laughed and pulled her down with him and suddenly it was hard to breathe as they lay there, face-to-face.
“You’ve got a snowflake on your eyelash,” he said. And then he kissed her.
It was a short and sweet kiss, befitting their surroundings and the icy cold wind. Then they were both up on their feet and marching back up the hill for another run.
It felt surprisingly good to be out in this weather.
The cold was invigorating, and the beautiful scenery lifted her spirits.
At the top of the hill, Carson took her hands and pulled her in close.
His deep blue eyes were momentarily mesmerizing, and she thought—hoped—he might kiss her again.
Instead, he adjusted her scarf, which had unraveled on her last flight down the hill.
Larkin pointed out the obvious. “Have you noticed we’re the only ones over the age of fourteen out here?”
“Other than parents? Yeah. Too bad all the other grown-ups are missing out on the fun.”
“We should have brought Robin along.”
“Amy says he’s too young for this big hill. Maybe next year we can bring him.”
She glanced at him sharply. Was he suggesting there would be a next year for the two of them? Or was he just making a throwaway comment to keep her off-balance? Well, two could play that game. “Maybe one day you’ll bring your own children as well.”
She could see Carson swallow. Then he met her gaze and said simply, “I hope so.”
At his words and the sincere way he said them, something fluttered inside of her. Was it hope? For a long time she’d doubted that marriage and motherhood could be part of her future. But a lot was changing this week. And yes, those changes were giving her hope.
The wind was howling now, and the snow was dumping thicker than ever, but none of that slowed them down. An hour later, tired and wet, Larkin noticed they were the last people on the hill. “Hm, looks like Amy was right about the weather.”
“At least we’ll have fresh snow for Christmas,” Carson said. “But it’s probably time we headed inside. Some hot cocoa by a warm fire would suit me fine.”
“Agreed.” She felt the fluttering sensation again. Hope. Maybe whatever was kindling between herself and Carson would turn out to be real. Lasting.
They walked hand in hand, pulling their sleds behind themselves, and Larkin felt a wonderful sense of peace and belonging.
“What are you thinking for dinner tonight?” she asked. “How does pizza sound?”
It had felt like a natural question to ask, but as soon as the words were out, Larkin realized she’d made a mistake. She’d felt Carson tense. Now he was taking too long to respond.
“I have something I need to do at six. Can we meet up later, say around eight?”
She waited, hoping he’d provide details. But he didn’t. In every action, word, and look, Carson had given the impression that he still cared about her, so it was foolish to feel jealous.
And yet, somehow, she did.