Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (63 page)

He searched his mind for the right thing to say but came up blank. He sensed that they were at a defining moment in their dubious friendship.

If he said the wrong thing now, she'd be out of his life so fast his head would spin. And then where would he be? As selfish as it sounded, he was absolutely positive he wouldn't be able to be a good foster father to Noelle without Heather's assistance.

But never mind how it might affect him. His primary concern right now was how
Heather
was feeling. What had happened in her past to make her have that marked and painful of a reaction to his touch?

And how could he help?

Whatever it was, it must have been horrible. It had to have been a man who had hurt her at some point. Fury rose in Shawn's chest. He wanted to grab whoever had done this to her by the collar and shake him senseless. Tension rippled through his body, and he had to force himself to relax and not clench his fists.

Deeply aware of how any violence in his actions would look to her, he jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, waiting for her to make the first move. He was glad the children were two stable doors down so they weren't witnessing their foster mother's distress. He was certain they would have picked up on the fact that she was shaken to the core. Kids were sensitive that way.

“I, um—” Her voice wobbled. She ran a hand down her face, then pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I imagine you're probably wondering why I completely freaked out on you just now.”

“I wouldn't put it quite that way,” he corrected gently.

“No? What would you call it, then? I just made a complete and total spectacle of myself in front of you. I've never been so humiliated in my life.”

“Heather.” How could he comfort her without touching her? “I don't want you to worry about me. You have absolutely no reason to feel embarrassed. None whatsoever. I'm not judging you at all—I promise. I care. I really do.”

Her gaze snapped to his. He stood absolutely stock-still as she cautiously took his measure. After an extended pause, she nodded and then reached a tentative hand toward his forearm. Her fingers quivered and she tightened her grip. “You're right. I know this about you. I do.”

“You know...
what
about me?” he asked, not certain he was following her train of thought. In fact, he knew he wasn't keeping up to the recoil of her emotions. She'd gone from scrambling away from him to resolutely touching him. “I don't, um— That is—”

Stammering was not helping this situation, but he felt as if his tongue was in knots. Deep down, he experienced an agonizing physical yearning to wrap his arms around her and protect her from whatever it was that had her so rattled. It took every bit of his strength of will not to do so, and only because he knew that would be the absolute worst possible move he could make right now.

His mere touch had her both physically and emotionally somersaulting away from him. If he tried to hold her in his arms—well, that would only make things worse. He wasn't going to do that to her. He wouldn't do that to anyone, but Heather wasn't just anyone. He couldn't explain it any more than he could explain where his faith in God came from, but he felt differently about Heather than any of the other women of his acquaintance, present or past. She was special, somehow, and he was attracted to her. But she was a package deal, three kids included.

Which was all the more reason for him to be mindful of his actions. He needed to tread extra carefully where Heather was concerned. He was hardly adequate as a foster father to Noelle. He'd never measure up to the challenge of three more needy children. They deserved an experienced hand to guide them, and he was not it.

Her eyes dropped to the piglet in her arms. “You don't understand why I'm acting so skittish,” she finished for him.

He shrugged and bent his head until he could capture her gaze once again. “I'm a good listener.”

“Right. Because you're a pastor.”

“No. That's not why. Or at least, that's not all of it.” How could he explain that his reaction to her distress had less to do with him being a pastor and a great deal more with him being a man? If he tried to convey that his feelings at the moment went beyond Christian charity, he was fairly certain he would send her running for the hills as fast as her legs could carry her. Yet he knew conversations about faith made her uncomfortable. If she felt that he was only there for her as a spiritual leader, he knew instinctively that she would clam up rather than explain her problems and fears to him.

He didn't know how much she would actually share with him, if anything, but the barn was hardly the place for a serious conversation. Much better that he invite her back up to the house, where she could sip a cup of coffee and compose herself.

“Kids?” he called, loud enough to be heard across the stable. “Anyone up for some ice cream?”

* * *

The last thing Heather wanted to do was follow Shawn back to his house. Shame filled her at the way she'd treated him, at the reactions she couldn't seem to be able to control even after all this time. He hadn't deserved her going off on him the way she had.

He'd graciously accepted her fumbling apology, but he'd closed up on her. And it was no wonder.

If it weren't for the fact that Shawn had offered the kids ice-cream sandwiches—their favorite special-occasion dessert—she would have come up with some lame excuse for why she had to leave immediately. Never mind that she wouldn't be fulfilling her obligation to do what she came here to do—namely, checking Shawn's progress on baby-proofing his house before the social worker made her official visit.

Let it go. Let it go.

Heather's heart continued to reel from the memory of Shawn's gentle touch and her own outlandish reaction. Her thoughts and emotions made her equal parts alarmed and angry. Angry that Adrian had ruined even the possibility of her responding well to a kind touch, or ever knowing love in her life, and the fear that—

Well, there it was. She'd been around Shawn enough to believe that the man he presented to the world was exactly the man he continued to be behind closed doors. With Shawn, what a woman saw was what she got. Like seeing the way he cherished Noelle, pretty much acting as if the sun and moon rose in her tiny face. He was the kind of man any normal woman would be thrilled to have a relationship with.

But she wasn't
normal
, now, was she?

Adrian had never in his life dealt with another human being the way Shawn treated virtually everyone with whom he crossed paths. Lost in the throes of his addiction, Adrian only had room in his life for one person—himself. And his scotch. The few times she'd tried to interrupt the relationship between the man and his booze had resulted in a broken wrist. Broken ribs.

Dead children.

Was it any wonder she still reacted negatively to even the slightest touch from a man? No one could blame her if she did.

But she hated it. Really, really
hated
her inability to live a normal life. She'd give anything not to have to explain to Shawn why she'd responded the way she had.

Not to live in perpetual fear.

“Food first, and then a tour of the house,” Shawn said, breaking into her thoughts. Nothing about awkward explanations. He unstrapped Noelle from his chest and kissed her downy forehead. “Ice cream for the older kids, and it's a bottle of formula for you, Little Miss Noelle.” He gestured to Heather and pointed to the freezer. “I've got two flavors—of ice cream, that is. Strawberry and vanilla. The children can choose whichever they like. You, too, Heather. And there's coffee in the pot by the sink. Now if you'll excuse me a moment, I have to take care of somebody's wet diaper.”

Once Shawn was out of her line of vision, Heather busied herself serving ice-cream sandwiches to the children. Her stomach was too raw to take one for herself, but a warm cup of coffee sounded good. She located the pot and then went in search of mugs.

She wasn't snooping, but it was quickly evident that Shawn's cabinets were as bleak as his decor—which was to say, he had nothing. Or almost nothing.

Four mismatched glass dinner plates in one cupboard. A couple of large, fluorescent-green plastic cups graced another. She finally found two unadorned white coffee mugs in the cabinet over the sink.

“I take it you don't have many guests around here,” she said to Shawn when he returned. She poured two cups from the carafe. “I could only find these two mugs for the coffee. I hope they're okay.”

“They're fine. As you observed, they are our only choice.”

“I thought pastors did a lot of that. Entertaining, I mean.”

He plunked Noelle into the bassinet and then rummaged through the walk-in pantry, reappearing with a baby bottle in hand. Then he opened the refrigerator and removed what Heather assumed was a jug of baby formula.

“I can offer you sugar for your coffee. Sorry, no milk—unless you want a drop of this.” He hefted the container of formula and chuckled. “I'm not guaranteeing how it would taste in coffee.”

“Eww.” She wrinkled her nose. His teasing put her at ease. “No, that's okay. I think I'll pass.”

“It's exactly like you said. I don't get visitors. I don't drink milk, so I don't buy the stuff. I suppose that'll change if I have Noelle for more than a few months.” A flash of melancholy crossed his gaze, but only for a moment. Then his expression cleared and filled with so much joy Heather wondered if she'd imagined the sadness in his eyes.

“I'm sure you'll adapt,” she assured him, taking a seat in the nearest kitchen chair and leaning her forearms against the table, which was littered with an assortment of baby-proofing hardware. “Look at you. You already are.”

Shawn's red-gold eyebrows danced. He zapped the contents of the bottle for a few seconds, removed it from the microwave and tested the temperature of the formula against the inside of his wrist.

“See? You're a pro.”

“I'm getting there. Even diaper duty isn't too bad anymore.” He settled into the chair opposite her, cradling Noelle in one arm. She couldn't believe how much more comfortable he appeared with Noelle compared to the first few days he'd had with the baby.

Noelle was likewise a great deal more complacent, taking her bottle from Shawn without even a whimper of protest.

It didn't take long for Heather's kids to finish their ice cream, nor for Noelle to drain her bottle. Heather and Shawn kept up insignificant chatter, but to her, at least, there was a gigantic elephant in the room, one she knew she'd eventually have to address.

The questions were there in his eyes, even if he didn't voice them aloud.

Why had she bolted like a branded calf when he touched her?

Like the gentleman he was, he didn't press her for answers. He was clearly letting her set the pace.

“Why don't you kids go out onto the back porch and throw a stick for Queenie?” Shawn suggested as he tucked a now-sleeping Noelle into the bassinet.

“Stay where I can see you,” Heather added. The sliding glass door wouldn't make it difficult to monitor the kids from where she sat in the comfort of the kitchen.

Her heart softened as she watched Shawn fuss over the baby. It was incredibly cute how he took extra care to make sure she was tightly swaddled and resting comfortably, and the nonsense syllables he babbled at her were beyond adorable. Heather suspected Noelle might nap better in the crib in her bedroom—the Jenny Lind crib she'd helped Shawn pick out the day they were in San Antonio. But from all appearances, Shawn didn't want to let Noelle out of his sight, not even for a minute.

So sweet. So loving. The man had father written all over him.

Her own father had died when she was just ten, but to her as a child, he had been a shining example of all that a man could be. She remembered him leaning in close to her mother and tickling her ribs just to see her giggle. Her father's laugh had been hearty and frequent. She idealized him, and consciously or unconsciously had been looking all her life for those qualities her father had possessed in abundance—qualities Adrian had initially seemed to share. She'd realized only too late that it was all an illusion.

A man like Shawn—handsome, clean-cut, responsible, a man of faith and a pastor—why, he ticked off every item on any woman's hypothetical Qualities to Look for in a Man list. So why hadn't some nice Christian woman come along and taken him off the market?

She didn't like how uncomfortable the thought of another woman in his life made her feel. She lifted her chin and shifted her gaze away from him. Better that she keep her eyes and her mind on her children, who were having a raucously good time throwing sticks for Queenie. The dog was plenty energetic enough to keep up with all three of them.

Silence reigned in the room, hot and thick and heavy. This was beyond awkward. Shawn had just seen her at her worst out there in the barn, panicking at his mere touch even though he'd done nothing to deserve her distrust. She could feel his gaze upon her but didn't have the heart to turn back to see what he was thinking.

Coward.

No, she was not a coward—not anymore.

Elephant in the room? She was going to tame that beast right now, before the circus began.

She cleared her throat and turned her attention to him. He was, indeed, staring at her, but it didn't unnerve her the way she expected it to. He kept his full attention on her face. That was something else she'd noticed about Shawn. He looked people straight in the eye. Not so much challenging her, but stepping up beside her and comforting her without words or a physical touch.

She swallowed hard to remove the lump of emotion choking the breath from her lungs and forced the words from her mouth. “I'm sure you're wondering why I did the—er—Texas Two-Step out in the barn earlier.”