Chapter Thirteen
Michael watched Amber disappear into the crowd. He could have followed her, would easily have caught up. But she had run off because he was ready to kiss her. She had liked the idea at first—he’d swear to that. Then she’d abruptly changed her mind.
Holding her on the ice had given him ideas he shouldn’t have had. Had made him think about things he shouldn’t want but did.
No, he had to stop kidding himself. He had wanted her long before he’d tied on his skates today.
Callie crossed the ice toward him, raising her hand in salute. She dropped onto the bench where Amber had been sitting.
Normally he’d have no problem with hanging out with one of the Barnetts. But right now, he had a feeling Amber’s big sister had something on her mind. Something that—like Amber’s abrupt departure—he wouldn’t like at all.
“You’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?” she demanded.
Nothing like moving right in for the kill. Had Amber’s family figured out the two of them weren’t really a couple? That would be too ironic, to get found out now…just when their pretend relationship was starting to feel real to him.
“You were holding out on us,” Callie continued. “You’re a ringer in the rink.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve had some experience.”
“We could see that. We could also see you and Amber looked good out there together.”
“She’s got better skating genes than your brothers seem to think.”
“Don’t let them fool you. We all grew up on the ice and the slopes. Amber included. The boys were teasing you because they like you. We all like you.”
That comment pleased him more than it should have. “Well, thanks. The feeling’s mutual.”
“You’re a good influence on Josh and Drew,” she said.
“Me?”
“Yes. You and Nick. My dad’s great with the boys, and they have plenty of male friends. But I think growing up in a houseful of girls made them always feel outnumbered.”
That wasn’t a feeling reserved for males growing up around females. You could feel outnumbered—even invisible—in a houseful of boys. He didn’t like the memories this conversation was raising, just as he hadn’t liked the question Amber had asked about his family last night. Instead of answering, he had taken advantage of the chance to get close to her. He’d done the same thing just now.
And he’d do it again in a heartbeat. Every time.
He glanced out over the stream of skaters. Plenty of red flashes to choose from, but none came from leggings and a flippy skirt. Where had she gone off to?
“You’ll need a better attention span if you want to keep up with the Barnetts,” Callie said lightly.
He started. “What?”
“You’re daydreaming. For a minute, you looked just like one of my students.”
“How can that be?” he said, forcing a grin. “I’ll bet not one of them would zone out during your classes.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re good. Flattery will get you far. It will even get me to tell you where Amber is. I saw her with Lyssa, headed to the concession stand, probably for a hot drink.”
Nothing a cup of hot chocolate won’t cure.
Amber had definitely gotten that wrong. Hot chocolate wouldn’t come close to curing his need to get near her. At this point, most likely nothing could.
Callie sat eyeing him. She was sharp, and he’d messed up, zoning out again instead of responding. He should have claimed he wasn’t wondering where Amber had gone.
Too late now. And judging by Callie’s slow smile as she stood to return to the rink, she wouldn’t have believed his protest, anyhow.
He couldn’t complain that Callie had learned that much about him already.
Over the past few days, Amber’s family seemed to have taken him under their collective wing. They made him feel more comfortable with them than he’d ever have thought possible. They gave him a feeling of belonging, of connection to their family that he had never found with his own. No, he had nothing to complain about.
Except the fact that he hadn’t forged the same bonds with Amber.
…
Amber paced across the dining area and back again to the couch. How many times had she done this today? Worse, how many times had she looked over at Michael’s closed office door?
Their afternoon at the skating rink had ended in a unanimous vote for supper from the concession stand. Hamburgers. And, for her, another hot chocolate. Every sip of her drink reminded her of Michael’s suggestion to have a kiss first, and chocolate after.
She hadn’t taken him up on the offer. What a waste.
Though they did have a good time feeding each other French fries…
She turned to pace back toward the couch and found him standing in the middle of the living room. Stumbling to a halt, she stared at him.
He had changed into a dark gray T-shirt that fit like a second skin. Black sweatpants rested low on his hips and skimmed the tops of his bare feet. In the light from the doorway behind him, his hair looked blue-black and tousled, as if he’d just woken up.
“Were you sleeping?” she asked.
“No. Doing some paperwork.”
That again. Why the sudden attraction to work lately? Or… Wait. Could he be using that to help him forget his attraction to her? Because there was no denying, their time at the skating rink today proved he was interested.
And here she stood nearly drooling because he looked hot enough to melt the entire rink. Think. “I…uh…was going into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.”
“Kitchen’s that way.” He gestured past her. Then he glanced at the novel she had left on the coffee table. “How’s your book?”
“Fine.” At least, it had received lots of great reviews. The entire time he had been in his office, she had sat on the couch with the book in her lap. On occasion, she had even remembered to turn an unread page.
“Guess I was rude to disappear for so long. Maybe I can make it up to you.” He took a step toward her.
She curled her trembling fingers against her palms.
He took another step.
She thought about backing away, about telling him in no uncertain terms they could not get close to one another again. But did she have the acting skill to say it convincingly? Or the willpower to say it at all? She wanted to get close to Michael, even if she felt more stage fright right now than on the day of her kindergarten graduation. Even if it went against the terms of their agreement.
Because they were alone again, weren’t they? Maybe she should point that out?
He took another step, and her pulse spiked. “You’re not much of a reader, are you?” she blurted.
“No. I don’t do a lot of reading. Of books, that is.” He slanted a look toward the coffee table, then back to her. “From what I can see, you don’t read much, either. It doesn’t look like that bookmark has moved in days.”
Busted. “There are reasons for that this week.”
“Reasons?”
“Distractions.”
“Yeah, I’ve been distracted, too.” His final step left him standing just a foot from her.
Already she longed for his touch. As if he knew that, he reached up to run his fingertip down her cheek. “This is probably not a good idea,” she said shakily.
“Probably not. But we ought to make sure. One kiss can’t hurt.”
Oh, but it could.
And oh, she wished she had the strength to say so.
But Michael dipped his head and her eyes closed automatically and his mouth brushed hers. And suddenly, against her better judgment, she was kissing him back. He slipped his arm around her the way he had at the skating rink. She rested her hand on his broad chest, sure she could feel his heart pounding beneath his T-shirt. His kiss deepened and her head swam, and to her dismay the murmur of satisfaction she gave turned into a little mewling sound…
Or had it?
She stiffened in Michael’s arms, recognizing the whimpering sound as Penny’s now-familiar announcement of her colic.
Maybe this time it was Penny’s way of warning her to stay away from Michael.
Maybe her baby knew best.
Her hand was still resting on his chest. His arm still curved around her waist. She pushed against him and, immediately, he released her. “I need to go to Penny.” Darting around him, she fled to the playpen. She scooped her now wailing daughter into her arms and settled her against her chest. Luckily, except for that one time downstairs, she and the baby had been in the housekeeper’s room whenever Penny’s colic hit.
Looks like that luck had run out.
“How long will she go on like this?” Michael asked, his voice raised above Penny’s sharp cries.
His expression was blank, his tone even, and she tried not to read a reproach into his words. “It could be an hour, maybe longer.”
He nodded and walked away.
Eyes stinging, she turned her back on him, too.
“Shh-shh,” she murmured to Penny, pressing a kiss against her soft hair.
This time, when she began pacing the floor, she knew the tactic wouldn’t do a thing to help distract her thoughts from Michael. She only hoped she could do a better job of soothing Penny.
Amber walked the floor, rocking Penny against her for what felt like agonizing hours. In real time, she knew only a few minutes had passed. Sadly, she had learned to gauge the length of her daughter’s bouts by the rising and eventual tapering off of her cries. Thankfully, those bouts had gotten shorter and shorter.
Yet it had only taken the first few cries to send Michael running from the room.
Obviously, he wanted nothing to do with crying babies. But hadn’t she known that already?
So much for her plan to get him to fall in love with Snowflake Valley and her family…and with her and Penny. All right, he’d made it plain he didn’t want marriage or kids in his future. But for his sake, she wished that he at least could have parents and brothers and sisters like hers. A family who would give him all the love and support he could ever want.
With a sigh, she continued her pacing, turned, and came to a dead halt.
Earlier, with her back turned to Michael and with Penny crying in her ear, she hadn’t heard his retreating footsteps. She assumed he had gone upstairs. She hadn’t heard him return, either, but he was approaching from the kitchen carrying a tray with a mug and a plate of cookies.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“You never got your tea.”
“Tea?”
“When I came out of the office, you said you were headed to the kitchen to make some tea.” His grin told her he’d seen right through that story the minute he’d heard it.
Blushing furiously, she ducked her head, resting her cheek against Penny’s hair. The baby quieted for a moment, hiccoughed, and then began to cry again.
Michael set the tray on the coffee table. “Here, let me take her.”
She froze.
“Come on, I’m not the Abominable Snowman, or whatever passes for the boogeyman around here. Give me the baby. Relax and have your tea before it gets cold.”
After another hesitation, she put Penny into Michael’s arms. Seeing her daughter cradled in his big hands made Amber’s throat grow tight. Seeing Penny cuddled against his broad, inviting chest made her want to cuddle up with them, too.
He caught her looking at him and smiled. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m not going anywhere. Have a seat.”
She did, mostly because that smile made her knees weak. A wave of warmth rushed through her, one that had nothing to do with the crackling fire just a few feet away.
She watched him pace, holding Penny in place with one hand and supporting her head with the other. “You really do know something about babies, don’t you?” she asked over Penny’s cries. To his credit, he barely winced at the sound of the piercing shrieks.
He nodded.
She settled back on the couch and took a steadying sip of tea.
Considering how comfortably he held Penny, he must have had experience with infants or at least very young babies. Last night, when she had tried to find out more about his family, he’d changed the subject. She was determined to try again. “You told me your stepmom already had kids when she married your dad.”
“Yeah, a few.” He answered grudgingly. After a while, he added, “Carmen had—has—three sons, all with different fathers. All younger than me, and each one more trouble than the next.”
She cringed, wondering where Derek fell in that order. Now she felt doubly glad she had never mentioned his phone call to Michael.
After a while, he said, “Two of them were still in diapers when she married my dad. Then, they had a couple of kids together, almost one right after the other. More boys. We had babies on hand in my house for years.”
No wonder he hadn’t been happy on Christmas Eve the first time he had heard Penny cry. No wonder he seemed to be…certainly not ecstatic now but taking it in stride. “So you were the oldest. And you wound up caring for them sometimes?”
“Most of the time, after Mama was gone. But you know, we all survived to tell the tales.” His laugh didn’t hold a bit of humor. “I’m not saying Carmen abandoned us. She was there…somewhere. Usually in her room watching soap operas while the kids settled down—more or less—with the afternoon cartoons in the living room.”
Penny had quieted against his chest, as if the sound of his voice soothed her. Or as if she were as interested as her mommy was in hearing his story. Amber took another sip of tea, then held her breath, waiting.
He paced across to the dining area and back again. “Having all that responsibility when I was so young probably has a lot to do with how I feel about family.”
He said nothing else, just continued to walk with Penny. The baby’s cries had eased more quickly than they ever had. Now, she’d settled down to an occasional whimper and flailing fist as she fought the last of the colic.
Fire crackled. The combined warmth from the flames, the mug in Amber’s hands, and the tea she had sipped made her eyelids drift downward. She blinked, forcing her eyes open.
There was nothing she could do about her drifting thoughts.
Did offering to hold her daughter mean Michael was getting comfortable around Penny? That his views about kids were shifting the slightest bit? That if she just held onto hope, one day he’d want to be a husband and daddy? And to have a family with her?
Her heart raced at the thought of all those possibilities.
She started as the mug slipped from her hands. Her eyelids flew open. When had she closed them again? Had she dreamed that Michael had taken charge of Penny?
But, no, she hadn’t dreamed it at all. And she hadn’t dropped the mug. Holding the baby in one arm, he had taken the mug from her and was setting it on the tray beside the cookies.
“Oh. Sorry. Guess I zoned out just for a minute.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and curl up for a while.” With his free hand, he took the afghan from the back of the couch, shook it out, and draped it over her. “Penny and I will be fine. She’s almost asleep, too.”
“I should take her—”
“You should sleep while you can. Some extra rest won’t hurt either of you.”
He moved to the chair beside the couch and sat with Penny lying against his chest. She had uncurled her legs, proof the colic had passed. She would sleep easy now.
And as Amber curled up beneath the afghan and her eyes drifted closed again, she knew she would sleep well, too, trusting Michael with the baby and feeling warm and secure and…loved.