Chapter 7

The night was unusually still, which made him uneasy. Every squeak of snow beneath his boots, every heavy breath—even the low thud of his heartbeat—seemed too loud. With every second that ticked by, he expected Camille to pop her head outside or Mrs. Lin to look out the window or—even worse—emergency sirens to head in his direction, letting him know that someone had spotted him skulking around. Despite his fears, the night remained silent…too silent.

He waited in the trees for over an hour longer than usual. Common sense told him to go home, to come back when the wind was noisily whipping the snow around, hiding any sounds or movements he made. He couldn’t do it, though. He couldn’t leave, not when there was a chance that something might happen. If he missed it, all those nights of waiting and watching would’ve been for nothing.

Carefully, quietly, he slipped across the road toward Camille’s house.

* * *

It was still dark when Steve woke. Years of predawn rising had trained his body not to need an alarm, although they had destroyed any chance he might have of sleeping in, now that his kids were old enough to allow that. Pushing back the covers, he shivered as the air chilled his sleep-warmed skin. His parents had very generously remodeled the old ranch house when Steve had first spoken with them about moving his family back to Borne, but the place was still over a hundred years old. No matter what kind of new flooring or paint it received, the house was going to be drafty.

As he made the bed in the dim moonlight, the undented pillow on the right side caught his notice. It’d been over eight years since he’d last shared his bed, and he still hadn’t gotten out of the habit of staying to his side while he slept. For some reason, that untouched pillow sent a wave of loneliness through him, worse than anything he’d felt in years. He’d never needed someone by his side more. After Karen had died, he’d been devastated by grief and secretly terrified. She’d been such a good mother, and he hadn’t known how their family was going to survive without her. Somehow, they’d managed, and he’d become accustomed to being a single parent. Although he’d never call it easy, he’d always felt like he was doing a good job rearing his children on his own.

Now that the kids were getting older, things weren’t so simple. All four were incredibly smart and amazing and so good it made his heart squeeze just thinking about them. But parenting was more complicated now, especially with Micah and Zoe. They were both so brilliant and at the same time so sensitive, and he knew that the wrong words from him could easily crush them. It was hard to find the right thing to say, though. He’d always thought of himself as a pretty straightforward, uncomplicated guy, and things that wouldn’t have fazed him as a child sent Micah—and sometimes Zoe—into an emotional tailspin. He’d never felt so out of his depth.

He tried. Even when conversations were awkward and painfully uncomfortable, he still attempted to push through, but sometimes trying wasn’t enough. If he said the wrong thing, they’d shut down and go silent, and he’d know he’d screwed up, but not be sure how to fix things. They weren’t like a piece of equipment that came with replacement parts and an instruction manual.

Sometimes he felt like he needed a translator to communicate with his two middle children. Karen would’ve been that. She’d felt things just as deeply as Zoe and Micah did, so she would’ve helped Steve understand the best way to parent them…maybe. He realized that he was having a hard time imagining what Karen would’ve been like if she’d lived, or how she would’ve parented their kids as preteens and teenagers. They’d all changed so much over the past years, and she would’ve, too, he was sure. It hit him suddenly that he’d been without Karen longer than they’d been together, and at some point, the crushing grief had softened to a lingering ache, a hollow spot in his chest where she used to be.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he gave the quilt covering his bed a sharp tug to straighten it and then turned away. He dressed in the mostly dark room, putting off the moment that his eyes had to become accustomed to the harsh artificial light.

When he’d finished getting ready, he walked quietly down the hallway, glancing in the girls’ room to see them both sound asleep. He tapped lightly on the boys’ door.

“I’m up,” Will said in a semi-alert mumble, making Steve smile a little as he quietly descended the stairs. He scribbled a note on the whiteboard on the fridge, letting the other three know where he and Will would be, and filled a water bottle at the sink. As he drank, his gaze settled on the chair where Camille had sat the day before, and his smile threatened to return. He liked having her there at his family’s table. Ever since he’d seen her in the scrapyard, Camille had fascinated him. She fit with his children, like a puzzle piece snapping into place so effortlessly that he was a little envious. He wondered if she thought he was bland and dull in comparison to their vividly inventive minds that were so like hers, and he wished that Nate hadn’t interrupted the previous day before Steve could finish talking to her.

“Ready?” Will asked quietly as he entered the kitchen, pulling Steve out of his thoughts.

“Drink some water first,” he said, filling another bottle and handing it to Will before topping off his own. They pulled on their boots and coats in silence, donning their hats before adding their headlamps. Will unhooked their snowshoes from the wall and handed Steve’s to him, although they waited to strap them on until they reached the foot of the porch stairs. This had been their routine since before they’d moved away from Simpson, and their movements came automatically for both of them.

“Long route or short today?” Steve asked.

“Long.” Will reached toward the star-speckled sky, stretching. “I sat in the store too much this weekend.”

They turned right, heading for the north edge of the property, picking up a slow jog to get their muscles warmed up and to accustom their brains to the different motion required to run in snowshoes. Snow-blanketed pastures stretched to their left, while the tidy rows of evergreens created lines of dark shadows to their right. The entire ranch seemed to be sleeping. Even the wind was quiet, leaving just the brush of their clothing and the soft thuds of their snowshoes to break the early-morning silence. “Want to switch to tree duty next weekend, get a break from the store?” Now that they were out of the house and wouldn’t wake the sleepers, Steve spoke at a normal volume. There weren’t many bears out at this time of year, but there was no harm in making enough noise to scare off any wildlife.

“Sure.” Will’s jacket rustled as he shrugged. “I don’t mind the store, though, and Uncle Nate hates getting stuck in there. He’d rather be outside with the horses.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Steve asked, making Will huff out a laugh. “Any plans for next weekend?”

“Not…yet.” There was a slight hesitation that made Steve look at his son sharply. He stayed quiet, knowing Will would tell him. “There’s someone I sort of…well, want to get to know better.”

“Hmm.” Steve tried to keep his voice noncommittal even as he groaned inside. He’d known this was coming, though. Will would be fifteen in April, and he’d always been a popular, good-natured kid. “How are you thinking about going about that?”

“I know the rules, Dad,” Will said, back to sounding like his usual self. Steve figured he was lucky to be going through this with Will first, since his older son’s straightforward and easygoing attitude would hopefully let him coast relatively drama-free through puberty. He had a feeling that Micah would have a harder time. “No dating one-on-one until I’m sixteen. We can do group things, though, right?”

“Yes, as long as I okay each group and each event.” After Will made an agreeing grunt, Steve asked, “What are you thinking about doing this weekend?”

“I don’t know.” Will sounded a little defeated. They reached the fence and followed it to the trees. The scent of pine and cedar surrounded them, and Steve inhaled. Even when he’d lived in the mountains, the smell had always made him think of the ranch. Although he’d loved Simpson and hadn’t minded living in Monroe, something inside him had clicked into place when he’d returned to Borne and the ranch where he’d grown up. He’d just been thinking of a place where his kids would be safe when he’d decided to move back here, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to return to the ranch.

“Want to have some friends come here? You could take them on a ride and then have a bonfire. Ryan wants to burn the junk wood that’s left from the old barn…the stuff he can’t reuse or sell to Camille.” He was a little proud of himself for not hesitating over her name. For some reason, he found himself stumbling over his words around her.

“Maybe.” Will’s tone turned teasing. “Speaking of Camille…”

Steve stayed silent, glad that the darkness covered his expression. Apparently, he hadn’t sounded as unaffected as he’d hoped.

After a moment or two, Will spoke again. “What’s going on between you two? It’s obvious you’re into each other.”

It was obvious? “Will…” he said.

“C’mon, Dad. I told you about Taylor.” Steve winced at the touch of hurt in Will’s voice. It seemed so wrong to be discussing his love life—well, his potential love life—with his fourteen-year-old son, but it wasn’t right to keep his kids shut out of it, either, since it would affect them, too. He’d always tried hard to be honest with everyone, especially his children, but he’d never had to deal with this situation before. On the rare times after Karen’s death that he’d dated someone, things had never gotten serious. He didn’t want to introduce a woman into his kids’ lives when he knew she would be transitional. They’d suffered enough when their mom died; they didn’t need more loss.

“Dad.”

“There’s not much to share.” It was true, but his chest squeezed with disappointment at hearing the words out loud, forcing him to add, “Yet.”

“Yet?” Will jumped on that gleefully, as Steve knew he would. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Steve adjusted his hat and the headlamp as a prickle of sweat made his forehead itch. “If I did, how would you feel about it?”

“I approve,” Will said immediately and enthusiastically, making Steve laugh. He loved this kid. “So would Zoe and Maya. Micah might be upset, though.”

“Why?” Steve frowned, disappointment hitting him again. He’d thought that his younger son and Camille had bonded over their art. At dinner the night before, Micah had been positively effusive about how she’d helped him fix one of his drawings.

“I think Micah’s halfway in love with her himself,” Will said teasingly, and Steve reached over and gave his son’s shoulder a reproving push, shoving him off-balance. With a laughing yelp, Will recovered, racing forward so that he was several strides ahead. Allowing his stride to stretch, Steve quickly caught up to Will, and he realized that if he’d had a mirror handy, he’d see a big, dopey grin on his face.

They ran in silence for a few minutes, and Steve felt a rush of anticipation. Talking about it with Will had made the idea of dating Camille more real—actually possible, rather than just a daydream.

“If you like her, Dad,” Will said, sounding completely serious, “you should ask her out. She’s nice, and she obviously likes you.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Steve asked, the question escaping before he could stop it. “If you kids get attached, and then she’s gone… I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt either, Dad.” His voice was so kind that Steve was struck again by what a great person Will had turned out to be. “But we—all of us—want you to be happy. Sometimes, you just gotta take the risk.” His tone lightened, changing to teasing. “Can’t believe I have to tell this to a guy who runs into burning buildings.”

With a playful growl that masked the ache in his chest, Steve chased his laughing son.

* * *

Camille groaned at the knock on her workshop door.

She’d been working pretty much nonstop since five that morning, and she’d managed to get the last of the website orders finished and packaged. It was still almost two weeks before the twenty-fifth, but past years had been so frantic at the last minute that she’d moved up the arrive-by-Christmas deadline this year. Now she was glad, since it gave her the opportunity to concentrate on her new wholesale client. To her chagrin, her face warmed just thinking about Springfield Ranch.

It’d only been two days since she’d last been there and had lunch with the family, but she’d already thought about them—well, okay, mostly Steve—way too much for her peace of mind. She couldn’t seem to control how her daydreams wandered to him as she worked. The more she was around him, the more she fell for him. She knew Steve had flaws, but they only seemed to add to his appeal.

The knock came again, yanking her back to the present, and she turned off her music.

“Stupid,” she growled at herself as soon as the workshop went silent. That had been a rookie mistake. Now whoever was out there would know she was here and that she’d heard them knocking. Resigned to talking to her visitor, she stood up, and her muscles protested having been locked in one position for so many hours.

As she reached the door, she peered through the peephole. “Oh good!” Yanking the door open, she actually smiled at the person standing on her porch.

“Why’re you so cheerful?” Barry, the package-delivery guy, grumbled.

“Because you’re here to pick up the last of the holiday orders, and then I won’t have to look at them or think about them anymore.” Despite his usual crankiness, she couldn’t stop grinning. Not only was he taking the final boxes, but he never wanted to chat. If all visitors were as reluctant to linger as Barry, she’d answer her door more often.

“Well?” he demanded, as if proving her unspoken point. “Get them, then. I don’t have all day. You’re not the only one sending a bunch of useless crap out today. Busiest season of the year, so let’s go!”

While he was grumbling, she’d shifted the hand truck holding the stack of boxes over into the doorway. It had only taken a few seconds, but he still sighed audibly.

“Finally.” He scanned each of the labels and then stacked them onto his own dolly before wheeling them toward his truck.

“Happy holidays!” she called after him, and he lifted a hand without looking back. For a second, she thought he might be about to give her a rude gesture, but he kept it at a wave.

“Christmas miracle right there,” she said under her breath as she closed the door. She wondered if Mrs. Lin had watched the exchange and was right now getting photos of Barry on her phone. Her neighbor probably thought that Barry was another stripper-gram, complete with a tear-away delivery man costume.

Shaking off the rather disturbing image, Camille turned back toward her workbench and saw Lucy sitting primly next to her latest project. “Hey, LuLu,” she crooned, walking over to stroke the cat. “Have I been neglecting you?” With a small meow, Lucy arched her back into Camille’s hand, and she felt a flash of guilt. Lucy rarely used the cat door Camille had installed in the door between the house and the workshop, since the cat didn’t care for the chillier temperature of the shop. If she was venturing into what she considered the Arctic, then Lucy must really be feeling lonely.

“Should we get some lunch inside?” Camille asked, lifting Lucy off the bench and cuddling her. To her surprise, the cat allowed it. Normally, she hated snuggles and would grumble just like Barry until she was back on her own four feet. “I’ve been a terrible cat mom, haven’t I?” She carried Lucy back into the kitchen. As soon as they were through the door, Lucy twisted free and darted through the cat door into the workshop again.

“Huh.” Apparently, Lucy wanted to hang out in the workshop today. Camille figured that she wouldn’t mind the company, although she’d have to put the cat inside when she used her blowtorch. Camille tended to get lost in her work, and she didn’t want her cat to investigate and get burned by stray sparks.

But now that Barry had pulled her out of her work fog, she realized that she was, indeed, hungry—really hungry, in fact. A glance at the clock told her why. It was almost four in the afternoon. Peering into the depths of the fridge, she sighed.

“Why are you so disappointed,” she mumbled to herself, giving up on finding anything in the empty appliance and heading to the pantry. There had to be something in there that she could eat. “If you don’t go to the store, then your fridge stays empty.” She hated grocery shopping during the busier times of day, especially in the weeks before Christmas. There were so many people. The worst part was that she was acquainted with most of them, but not really friendly with anyone, so conversations were always stilted and uncomfortable.

She didn’t know why others couldn’t just keep their heads down and go about their shopping, but no one seemed to have the same grocery-store etiquette as she did, so she suffered through multiple awkward exchanges in each aisle. At the end of that misery, when she couldn’t take it anymore and left with one-tenth the number of items she’d planned to get when she’d entered the store, Camille still had to face Mrs. Murphy, who was nosy and abrasive enough to make Mrs. Lin seem like a sweet, unobtrusive angel.

As a result, her pantry was pathetically bare. “Nice prepper you’d make.” It wasn’t like she had an excuse for not having any unperishable food, either. That, she could just order online. She poked through the few cans. “What did I think I was going to make with bamboo shoots? Stir fry, maybe?” That actually sounded good, but she was lacking every other ingredient she needed. She realized that she was going to have to either suck it up and go to the grocery store or, alternatively, suck it up and go to Birdie’s.

After mentally reviewing the potential horrors a grocery store visit would entail, she settled on the diner as the slightly better option. Although Birdie’s didn’t take orders over the phone or online, they would box up her food so she could take it home to eat, and she could get enough to last her several days. That way, she could put off visiting the Borne Market a little longer. Even better, it’d give her time to finish the Springfield ranch order, and then she could possibly finagle another lunch invitation. Micah’s tacos had been really good, and she felt comfortable with Steve’s kids. With Steve himself, she didn’t feel anything as bland as comfortable. He did make her feel nervous and excited and hopeful and buzzing with anticipation.

Now she was thinking about Steve again. Closing the pantry door with a firm click, she headed toward the front closet to get her coat. She needed food, and then she could go back to work. The sooner she finished the order, the sooner she could visit the ranch. She snorted a small laugh. How quickly she’d changed from dreading a trip to the ranch to avidly looking forward to it.

It wasn’t until she was outside Birdie’s that she realized she wasn’t really fit for public viewing. Her sweatpants had a small hole burned in one thigh and a paint stain on the other knee. At least her coat covered most of an even more disreputable hoodie. She tugged on her stocking hat, hoping it would hide the fact that it’d been several days since she’d last washed her hair…or brushed it, actually.

“Quit being silly,” she said under her breath as she opened the door to the diner. “You’re not going to see anyone you care to impress anyw—Oh. Hey, Ryan.” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, looking for Steve. A mix of anxiety and anticipation swirled through her at the thought that he might be at the diner with his brother. Sure, she was a hot mess at the moment, but she couldn’t help wanting to see him. When she didn’t spot Steve, a mixture of disappointment and relief filled her, with the former heavily outweighing the latter.

“Camille. Good to see you.” Ryan’s wide smile made her feel a bit guilty for her preoccupation. “I’m just about to get some early dinner. Come sit with me.” He reached for her elbow, as if to escort her across the small seating area, and she automatically stepped back out of reach. This time, her glance over his shoulder took in all the other people in the diner. Yes, they were watching avidly, just as she’d expected. Her sigh was deep but silent. If she’d known that she’d become the entertainment to go with the diner’s early-bird special, she would’ve taken her chances with the grocery store.

“No, thank you.” She realized that Ryan was watching her, his smile fading. “I’m just going to get some food to go. This being my busy time of year and all.”

Making an obvious effort to erase his frown, Ryan scolded, “You need to take time to eat.” He reached toward her arm again, and Camille retreated another step. With all her daydreams about Steve, having Ryan be his usual aggressively flirty self with her was especially unappealing. Now her back was literally against the wall, and she knew she needed to be an adult and deal with the situation.

“Ryan…” Taking a deep breath, she glanced at their hushed audience. The two servers had shifted closer and were unabashedly eavesdropping. It was hard enough to have this conversation without a good portion of the Borne population listening in. There was nothing to be done about it, though. If she put off the conversation or allowed Ryan to drag her over to one of the booths, it was only going to complicate things. What was developing—or what she hoped was developing—between her and Steve felt very fragile at the moment, and she didn’t want to do anything that might ruin it before it could become something wonderful.

The thought of Steve gave her courage. She lowered her voice, knowing it wouldn’t do much good. “Ryan, I’m not the most socially…aware person. Because of that, I’m not sure if you’re just being friendly, or if you’re flirting because that’s what you do with everyone, or if you’re really interested in me, but I just want to make it clear that I don’t want to be anything except friends with you.” When he just stared at her, she figured she should make things very, very clear, since she was being all brave and up-front for the moment, and she knew it probably wouldn’t last, and she’d go back to trying to wiggle out of uncomfortable social situations by being as nonconfrontational as possible. “Platonic friends. And, you know, business associates, since I really like being able to sell some of my pieces at your ranch, and I think that’s been a good deal for you, too. I hope it has been, at least.”

The silent seconds ticked by, and she was pretty sure that no one in the diner even breathed as Ryan’s face gradually hardened. She braced herself for his reaction, hoping it didn’t involve yelling or swearing.

To her surprise—and relief—his usual smile returned. It was a bit stiff around the edges, but it was there, which meant that Ryan was going to follow the regular social rules and not scream at her in Birdie’s in front of everyone. “Sure. Of course. I’ve only thought of us as friends, so I’m sorry if I misled you into thinking I wanted it to be…more.”

A huge breath of relief escaped, and she reached out to pat his arm but thought better of it before her hand made contact. She was so glad that Ryan was going to be civil that she didn’t even argue with him about his implication that she pursued him. If he was going to stop asking her out, then it was worth allowing him this sop to his pride. “Good. Thank you. Great. Okay. Now that that’s settled, I’m going to just…go. Lots of work to do, with Christmas and everything.”

“Didn’t you want to order some food?” Ellen, one of the servers, called out as Camille shoved open the door.

“No, thanks! Not really hungry!” She was much more desperate to escape. The thought of sitting at the counter, waiting interminable minutes for her food to be ready while the other customers gossiped about her, killed any desire she had for food. She’d brave the Borne Market, since most of the town was obviously eating at Birdie’s and had already witnessed her painfully uncomfortable chat.

Despite the awful awkwardness of it all, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d dreaded Ryan’s repeated come-ons until she’d put a stop to them. Even though she knew running into him in town and at the ranch wouldn’t be all that pleasant, at least for a while, it would still be much better than it had been.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out and smiled, picking up her pace. After what had happened at the diner, going to the grocery store would be a breeze.