Snowfall on Haven Point (25 page)

For her own sake and for her children's, she needed to do her best to return their relationship to the semi-cordial but distant one of the first few days after his injury.

How was she supposed to do that when they were living in his house for now?

She sighed quietly, but it was loud enough that Sadie, stretched out beside his chair, lifted her head to look at her. This in turn caught Marshall's attention just as he read the last page.

“What am I doing wrong?” he asked.

Besides breaking my heart?
“Nothing,” she answered. “Why would you ask?”

“You were frowning,” he said. “It's been a while since I've read aloud to kids and I thought maybe I was going too fast or too slow.”

She scrambled to think up a convincing excuse. “No. Sorry. I was thinking what a pain this must be for you, having your space suddenly invaded by us while you're still trying to heal.”

“Yeah. I'm doing my best to endure it.”

She didn't miss his dry tone or the affectionate look he gave her children, which wasn't helping at all.

“Story's done now. Time for bed, you two.”

“Do we have to?” Will said, a telltale sleepy whine in his voice.

“Yes. You and Chloe both have school tomorrow.”

“Unless we have another snow day,” Chloe said hopefully.

“I wouldn't count on it,” Marshall told her. “The snow stopped a few hours ago and I think we're done with it for a while, which means the plows will have plenty of time through the night to clear the roads for the buses.”

They groaned in unison as they slid down, both careful not to bump his outstretched cast.

“What are you complaining about? You've both got Christmas parties tomorrow that you don't want to miss, remember? But if you want to have fun tomorrow, you need to sleep tonight.”

That cheered them both up enough that they brushed their teeth without further complaint. After going through the regular routine of prayers and kisses and tucking them in, she headed for the kitchen to return the nearly full glass of water Will had insisted he couldn't sleep without—then had handed back to her after taking only two swallows.

She stopped short when she realized Marshall stood by the sink. He turned when he heard her and her heart pounded. He looked big and tough and gorgeous and she felt like a stupid, silly girl who had forgotten how to talk to a boy.

They were alone, she suddenly realized. The children were in bed and would probably sleep soundly through the night. The smartest thing to do right now would be to take care of the task that had brought her in here, then escape to her bedroom, close the door and hide out where she was safe until morning.

“I, um, just need to add this to the dishwasher,” she said.

He moved out of the way and she opened the door and found a spot for the glass on the top rack, then closed it again.

She was intensely aware of him—the hint of evening shadow on his face, the way his hair was a little messed in the back, the woodsy scent of his soap.

She forced a smile, doing her best to ignore the impact all that had on her resolve.

“Thanks for reading to Will and Chloe. They really seemed to enjoy it.”

“So did I,” he answered. “It was a great story.”

“It's one of my favorites,” she said. “Will is probably still a little young for it, but I read it last year to Chloe and she loved it.”

He gave that rare smile that never failed to make butterflies jump in her stomach.

She firmly ignored them. “I should let Sadie out one more time, and then she and I will try to get out of your way for the evening.”

“You don't have to do that,” he said. “You're not in my way, I mean.”

He was in
her
way—so much that she didn't know how she was ever going to dislodge him.

“We've invaded your space enough for the day,” she said after she opened the door for the dog to trot outside. “I'm sure you're ready for a break from the noisy Montgomerys.”

He gazed down at her, his eyes gleaming with an emotion she couldn't immediately identify. “What if I'm not?” he murmured.

She caught her breath as the refrigerator compressor hummed on and everything inside her hummed to life, too.

His question seemed to hover between them, arcing and crackling like her downed power line, and she couldn't help thinking how easy it would be to step forward, to press her mouth to his, to spend the rest of the cold December night in his arms.

And wouldn't that be a disaster of epic proportion?

She released her breath and decided her only hope of protecting herself was brutal honesty. “I don't believe it's a good idea for me to spend time alone with you.”

“Why not?” he demanded. His surprised expression intensified. She couldn't tell if he was shocked, outraged or hurt—or some combination of all three. “You're not afraid of me, are you? I hope you know I would never hurt you.”

For a moment, she didn't know how he could possibly say that. Of course he would hurt her. Maybe he wouldn't do it intentionally, but she would be left emotionally bruised anyway when she walked away.

An instant later, she realized he was referring to more than her inevitable heartache.

He was thinking of what Rob Warren had done to her.

She couldn't even think of the two men at the same time, they were so very different.

“No,” she whispered. “I could never be afraid of you, Marshall. Not like that.”

“Are you sure? Right now, your eyes tell a different story.”

Brutal honesty. She didn't know how else to move forward. She couldn't let him think she could ever put him in the same category as vermin like Rob.

“I'm afraid of myself,” she admitted.

Though his expression was baffled, he studied her with the same sort of probing look she had received from his sister earlier in the day. “What does that mean?”

She swallowed, wishing she had just left the glass of water in the children's room and avoided this whole encounter.

“I don't know if you've noticed this, but when we're alone together, we have a little habit of, um, kissing.”

Instantly, that current sizzled again between them, wild and dangerous.

“I believe I have noticed that,” he drawled, his voice low. His gaze dipped to her mouth and her insides ached with the overwhelming need to throw up her hands already and just kiss him.

“We both know that's not the smartest thing we could do. I just...thought it would be better to avoid temptation altogether.”

“Temptation. You find me...tempting.”

Beyond words. Like he had been dipped in the very best Belgian chocolate and she couldn't wait to lick it away.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I shouldn't, but I do.”

His expression arrested, he nodded. “That's fair, I guess. Because I've spent all day trying not to think about kissing you again and tasting that soft mouth of yours and hearing your sexy little sighs. Ever try to not think about something? Yeah. It ends up being the only thing rattling around in your head.”

She hitched in a breath at the hunger in his eyes and she felt like she was going to burn away to cinders right here in his kitchen. She opened her mouth to respond, but now it was the only thought in her head, too.

She swallowed and licked at lips that suddenly felt swollen and achy. He made a strangled sound and moved forward.

“I want to kiss you right now, Andie. I think you want it, too, but I won't do it if you tell me no, I swear. I'll turn around and hobble out of here.”

No.
It was one of the first words her kids ever learned, but sometimes it was the hardest possible word to say. “I...” she began,
don't want you to kiss me
.

She couldn't say the rest because both of them would know it was a lie.

“Was that a no?” he asked, watching her intently.

She couldn't do it. One kiss. Surely she was strong enough for one kiss. Like him, she had thought about it all day, since that morning when he had first come out of his room with his hair damp from the shower.

He wouldn't kiss her until she made a move. Somehow she knew it with firm assurance. She shook her head and stepped forward and kissed him before she could give herself a chance to come to her senses.

Instantly, she knew it was a dire mistake. The other times they kissed had been tiny, gentle little snowflakes compared to the wild, frenzied storm that churned and sparked between them.

It was raw and intense, heat and hunger and need, and she wanted the kiss to go on and on and on. She forgot about the real storm outside, her damaged house, all the reasons she shouldn't be doing this.

The only thing that mattered right now was this man she was coming to care for entirely too much.

“You know, I would really love to kiss you somewhere besides my kitchen,” he murmured long moments later. Andie closed her eyes, her imagination going crazy.

“And,” he added, pressing another kiss to the edge of her mouth, “I would really love to do it sometime when I'm not on these damn crutches.”

They could go into his bedroom. He could lie back and she would do all the work. Tease him and touch him and explore all those muscles.

She came within a heartbeat of throwing every last shred of caution into that whirlwind.

Fortunately, her dog saved her. Sadie whined outside the door, shredding the hazy, impossible dreams she had begun to weave.

No. She couldn't do this. She stepped away from him feeling shaky and weak.

“See what I'm talking about? I don't have much self-control when it comes to you and it's obvious neither of us has very good judgment when we're alone.”

“We kissed. It's not the end of the world.”

He was right, but she didn't know how to tell him why she couldn't afford to keep tormenting herself like this, discovering the possibilities between them when she knew it could never be anything more.

Again, she wished she had just slipped into her room the moment the kids were in bed so she could have avoided him completely. She really didn't want to bare her soul to him, but right now she didn't see any other option.

“I'm very attracted to you, Marshall. That's probably obvious the moment you touch me. I'm attracted to you and I...think I could care about you very easily. If I'm not careful, I could see myself doing something entirely self-destructive like falling in love with you.”

He looked as stunned as if she'd just kicked his cast out from under him. “Self-destructive.”

“What else would you call it? Stupid. Thoughtless. Masochistic. All of the above. You're the worst possible man in Haven Point for me!”

If she didn't know better, she might think he looked hurt.

“The worst. That's quite a generalization.”

“That doesn't make it any less true.” Her fingers were trembling and she tucked them into fists, hoping he didn't notice. “I've already loved one man in a uniform. I can't let myself do it again. I know my own strengths and weaknesses and the simple truth is that I'm not strong enough to let myself care for someone who insists on putting himself in harm's way.”

He seemed carved in stone—except for his eyes, which blazed with heat and desire. “You're going to discount me and an entire segment of the male population because of an occupation?”

“It's more than an occupation. We both know that. I was married to a cop. I know it's a mind-set, part of who you are. You want to jump right in and save people, no matter the consequences. You feel like it's your job to watch over the whole world. That's the reason you hobbled down the street through the snow last night to make sure the children and I were all right.”

“What's wrong with worrying about the people you...care about?”

“There's nothing wrong with it. It's admirable, Marshall. The world needs more people like you. I was incredibly touched that you would go to such lengths because you were worried about us and had to make certain yourself that we were okay.”

This entire argument was moot. It was already far too late. She had already fallen for him and talking about it was only making her more aware that a vast chasm of pain waited for her.

“Don't make such a big deal out of that,” he said gruffly. “Anybody would have done the same.”

He looked embarrassed, uncomfortable and unsure of himself.

She sighed. “No. Not everyone. But you will, a hundred times over, whatever it takes. I respect that and admire it so much, but I can't let myself care for you.”

“I guess that's clear enough,” he said, his features remote and his tone stiff.

Again, she had the impression she had hurt him, though she couldn't imagine how that was possible. Oh, she hoped her house would be habitable early the next day so she didn't have to deal with this awkwardness much longer.

“I'm sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

He said one thing, but she couldn't shake the feeling the truth was quite the opposite.

“Good night,” she murmured. Her throat felt tight, achy, but she told herself that was a small price to pay for holding on to the last safe remnant of her heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A
FTER
A
RESTLESS
, uneven sleep, he woke early the next morning, when the sun was just starting to think about rising above the mountains through the curtains he hadn't closed the night before.

As soon as he awoke, her words seemed to echo in his head all over again, as if she had programmed it into an alarm for him.

You're the worst possible man in Haven Point for me.

That was clear enough. A guy couldn't argue with a woman who could make that kind of definitive statement.
The worst.
Not just questionable or even bad. He was the worst. She had her mind made up and he was pretty damn sure he could say nothing that would change her mind.

Did he
want
to change her mind, even if he could?

He didn't know how to answer that and his restless sleep certainly hadn't provided any insight.

He was still trying to figure it out when he heard a vague sound from the kitchen, a little whimper.

Sadie, he realized. That must have been what awakened him. Somehow the dog must have slipped out of Andie's room and was now waiting by the door for someone to come and let her out.

No reason he couldn't help her so Andie could sleep a little longer.

He forced himself to push past the usual morning pain and pulled sweats on over his stupid brace before he rose from his bed and headed into the kitchen.

The little dog was practically dancing by the back door, desperate to go out.

He opened the door for her and she bulleted out to take care of business. He stood there watching the snow fall in big fat flakes. Up and down Riverbend Road, as people started making ready for the day, early birds with snowblowers and all-terrain vehicles with plows were busy clearing away driveways and sidewalks.

A moment later, his son walked around the side of the Jacobs home with a snow shovel in his hand.

You have to tell him.

He could almost hear the echo of Andie's voice in his head, though he hoped she was still tucked into her bed.

Unable to resist, he hobbled out onto the small covered porch off the kitchen.

The boy spotted the dog first, up to her belly in snow, and pulled out his earbuds.

“Sadie, what are you doing out here?” he asked.

The kid probably couldn't see him, since he was standing on a dark porch.

“Morning,” Marshall called softly. “You're out early.”

Christopher shrugged inside his big snowboarder coat. “No choice. Gram says I have to finish both driveways before the bus comes.”

“You don't have to. I just won't pay you if you don't do the job.”

“I'm here, aren't I?” Christopher said. He stuck the shovel in the soft powder and went to work.

Marshall couldn't bring himself to go inside, even after the little dog finished her thing and waddled up the steps to stand beside him.

“Dude, you need a snowblower,” Christopher said when his path led him closer to the porch.

Yeah, probably. Before moving to Wyn's house on the river, he had lived in an apartment where snow removal was taken care of by the management company, so he'd never had reason to buy one.

Wyn might have one back in the shed, he just hadn't bothered to look.

“When do you get out of school for the holiday break again?”

“Today's the last day,” Christopher's voice sounded muffled as he pushed the snow in the other direction. “Too bad yesterday wasn't.”

“Yesterday was a snow day, probably the last one you'll see all winter.”

“So I hear. You should know, tomorrow I'm sleeping in. If you want your snow shoveled before noon, you'll have to pay someone else to do it.”

“I heard we're done with the snow for a few days. Until Christmas Eve, anyway.”

Christopher didn't say anything, just continued clearing the driveway in back-and-forth horizontal stripes that sent him away from Marshall every other pass.

With no real incentive to go inside except the cold, which he found more bracing than uncomfortable, Marshall stayed where he was and watched.

After about five minutes, Christopher stopped in front of him. “Okay, what am I doing wrong?”

Marshall blinked at the unexpected attack. “Nothing. Did I
say
you were doing something wrong?”

“No, but you're just standing there like you think I don't know how to shovel a driveway.”

He wanted to respond that there was nothing wrong with looking at the son whose life he hadn't been part of for all these years.

“You're not doing anything wrong. I really appreciate the job you're doing, especially since Andie and her kids are here for a couple of days. I know it hasn't been easy, but you've done good work and I'm grateful for it.”

The boy studied him for a long moment, then shook his head. “You are one weird cop.”

Yeah, didn't he know it?

“I just wanted to say thanks. That's all.”

Christopher grunted in response, which Marshall was going to assume meant
you're welcome
.

The dog was nudging at the door like she wanted to go inside now so she could find some breakfast, and Marsh figured if he stayed out here much longer watching his kid, he was going to be heading into that creepy stalker territory.

With a sigh, he turned around and reached for the door, but it jerked open before he could even turn the knob.

“There you are!” Andie exclaimed. “I've been looking
everywhere
.”

His heart gave a good, hard kick—until he realized she was looking down at the dog.

“Sadie, you rascal. Get in here.”

She opened the door wider and stepped out of the way. When the two of them made their way inside, she finally looked at Marshall, her color rising. “Did she wake you? I thought I closed the bedroom door so she couldn't get out on her own, but it must not have been latched tightly. I hope she didn't make a nuisance of herself.”

“She didn't. It was no big deal.”

“I'm sorry I didn't hear her before you did. It's not safe for you to be out here. I'd hate for you to fall while taking care of my dog.”

He had seen combat in Iraq and had averted multiple incidents since he'd been back that easily could have ended with the use of deadly force. Apparently now his biggest worry was slipping on ice.

“The driveway's almost clear. Christopher's taking care of it now before he leaves for school.”

“Oh. That's good. He's done an excellent job so far, hasn't he?”

“Yeah. I just hope he can keep it up all winter.”

Her gaze shifted to the window overlooking the driveway. She opened her mouth as if to speak but apparently changed her mind and closed it again.

“You might as well say it,” he said, bracing himself.

“Say what?”

“You're obviously dying to tell me again how I need to tell him I'm his father.”

“Am I?” She gave him a cool stare, worlds away from the soft, yielding woman who had trembled in his arms right here in the kitchen just a few hours earlier. “Why would I waste my breath when you've made it abundantly clear you disagree? It's fine. I get that my opinion doesn't really matter.”

In that moment, all the thoughts that had been chasing themselves through his head all night combined into one overriding realization.

Her opinion
did
matter—more than anyone else's in his life.

She mattered.

His hands tightened around the handgrips of the crutches and he felt as if he had, indeed, slipped on the ice and landed hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

He was in love with Andie Montgomery. Her courage, her strength, her kindness. The unexpectedly sly sense of humor that jumped out at the oddest moments.

He had never felt like this about another woman, this urge to cherish her and protect her and spend the rest of his days keeping her happy.

Not just her, but her children. For the first time in his life, he wanted something else besides the job. He wanted a family, a future. Hikes into the mountains with them, taking the kids on fishing trips, summer evenings in the backyard playing catch with the river murmuring past. Christmas mornings and birthday presents and preschool graduations. He wanted all of it—with a woman who had told him in no uncertain terms that he was the worst possible man in Haven Point for her.

“What's wrong?” Andie asked.

Everything. His whole life had gone to hell from the moment he got hit by that damn SUV and his sister sent Andie to his house with hearty stew, delicious pie and that warm compassion that drew him like a fire in a blizzard.

Once, he thought he didn't need anyone else, that he could be perfectly content the rest of his life doing his job and helping the people of his community.

How big an idiot could one man possibly be?

“Marshall?”

“Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Just not in the mood for conversation this morning, I guess.” He spoke brusquely to hide the chaos inside him and saw her eyes widen briefly with hurt.

“Good news for you, then.” She produced a smile that didn't come close to looking genuine. “I had an email from my landlord first thing this morning. He said the repairs on the house should be finished by the end of the day, then we can all get out of your way and leave you alone with your own company.”

The only problem was that he didn't want them out of his way and he could think of few things as miserable as his own company right now.

He wanted to spend Christmas with Chloe and Will, watching Christmas movies and playing games and eating cookies.

Instead, he faced a bleak, solitary holiday spent without their laughter and joy, staring at the walls of his sister's den while unable to even walk next door to wish his own son a merry Christmas.

The hell of it was, the rest of his life stretched out ahead of him, just as desolate.

“I'm sure that's a relief for you,” he said.

“For all of us.”

He was spared from having to come up with a response by the appearance of her children clamoring for breakfast.

* * *

T
HE
AFTERNOON
COULDN
'
T
come soon enough for her, Andie thought as she and Will walked through the light but steady snow on their way back from walking Chloe to the bus stop later that morning.

She needed to get back to her comfort zone, away from the tension and awkwardness.

“I like it here. I want to stay with Marshall,” Will announced when they were almost to the stone house with the green shutters that looked so charming and warm with its windows lit up against the wintry landscape.

“He's been very nice to let us stay with him, hasn't he?” she said. “But everything will be all fixed at our house this afternoon, so tonight we'll be sleeping in our own beds.”

Will looked back at their house down the street with an uncharacteristic frown. “What if another tree falls on the house?” he asked, clear nervousness in his voice. “Chloe said we were almost squished.”

She didn't want to think about it, nor did she want him being so nervous he couldn't sleep.

“That was a very strange accident. It's not going to happen again.”

“How do you know? Our house has more trees around it. Maybe they will fall, too, and then we
will
be squished.”

She stopped there in the snow and hugged her son. “How many nights have we already been sleeping in the house?”

“I don't know. A lot.”

“Right. And no other trees have fallen while we were there, have they? Marshall's house has many trees all around it and no trees have fallen the two nights we've been here. It happened once and it was scary for me, too, honey. But we can't spend the rest of our lives worrying and waiting for the worst to happen again.”

Her words struck a strange chord in her mind, but she didn't have time to puzzle out why.

“Why can't we just cut down all the trees at our house?” Will demanded. “Then it would never happen again.”

“Yes. But if we cut down all the trees, think of everything we would miss. Trees are wonderful. We need them. They give us shade overhead in the summer and leaves to pile up and jump into in the fall. You wouldn't have a place to climb or that tire swing in the back you and Chloe both love. They clean the air and give a home for birds and insects. The world would be a pretty sad place without them, wouldn't it?”

He appeared to consider that, studying the big pine trees outside Marshall's house. “I guess. I just wish they didn't have to fall down sometimes.”

“The great thing about trees is that when one falls down, you can plant another one. It won't be exactly the same and it will take time to grow, but if you pick carefully and take care of it, it can even be stronger and healthier than the one that fell.”

The echo of her own words seemed to resonate deep into her heart, so deeply she hardly felt the chill of the snowflakes falling on her cheeks.

She was talking to Will about a tree, but it could easily be a metaphor for her life right now.

Like her son, she was terrified about the possibility of another tree crashing through the safe, secure life she had finally started rebuilding.

Jason's death had nearly destroyed her. For the last two years, she had spent all her time and effort to make a safe, comfortable life for herself and her children—with a few delays and complications along the way.

To keep herself safe, she was making the same apocalyptic choice Will suggested—cutting down any tree that might threaten that security before it had a chance to grow, all on the random chance that someday the winds might come again. Her deepest fear, she realized, was that this time she would be left with nothing but splinters and no way to hammer them back together.