But for her, right now, agonizing was winning, hands down. It seemed like no matter what she did regarding Adam, she was going to be miserable. To let herself start a relationship with him would be . . . to worry, to be wary. And was she even emotionally equipped to have a relationship right now? She didn’t think so. And there was so much to do, so much to consider. There was Sophie. And Christmas. There was her new job and her real estate license. And whether or not to keep the house. She loved the house. She’d put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into the house. But she and Jeff had refurbished it
together,
and now some of those tears were the really sad kind, and so wouldn’t the place always be tainted with memories of a past she needed to put behind her?
“I’m going to sell the house,” she said out of the blue. It suddenly seemed so clear, like something she shouldn’t have been waffling on all this time.
“Huh?” Tessa asked, and Sue Ann realized she’d interrupted something Tessa had been saying about her Christmas present for Lucky.
“I’m sorry,” Sue Ann said, “I didn’t mean to be so rude. But it just hit me, hard—I should sell the house. For a while it seemed like something I needed to hang onto, but I think hanging onto it was like hanging onto Jeff, and the past, and even as much as I love that house, I need someplace new, a truly fresh start. You know?”
All her friends chimed in with their agreement and support, but soon enough the conversation drifted to yet another new subject, and that’s when Jenny leaned over to put her hand on Sue Ann’s knee. “This is big,” she said quietly. “Especially since you just became more financially equipped to stay where you are.”
“I know,” Sue Ann agreed. “It just shot through me like a bolt of lightning. That I don’t need the house anymore. I don’t need that part of what used to be my marriage. In fact, maybe I don’t need any of it anymore. Well, other than Sophie, of course. But the rest . . . I think I’m really, finally, beginning to let go.”
Jenny’s smile reached all the way to Sue Ann’s core. What she was feeling right now was real, and solid. Jenny was right. It was big. She suddenly felt braver, and more ready to face life. Maybe it was the new job helping her see that she could make changes, be successfully independent, do things on her own. And she realized it was as if holding onto the house, even just in her own mind, had somehow been . . . weighing her down.
“Beginning to let go and starting to move on?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, and starting to move on,” she said. “Definitely.”
“With Adam?” Jenny whispered.
And Sue Ann’s stomach began to churn again, pushing her to say, “Look, one big step at a time, okay? I have a new job, and I’m ready to sell the house—that’s enough for today. And I think it’s pretty good progress.”
“Okay, okay—you’re right, it is,” Jenny agreed. “And I’m proud of you.”
And Sue Ann felt pretty proud of herself, too. “New life, new beginnings,” she said. “But one step at a time.”
A few minutes later, she announced it was time to get her mom’s book and depart. “I promised Sophie we’d make cookies this afternoon and that we’d try sledding on that hill at the end of our street—you know, the one that runs down to Sugar Creek.” As she stepped up to the counter and opened her purse to pay Amy, she called back through the bookstore, “Soph—it’s time to go!”
And by the time she’d picked up her bag and was buttoning her coat, Sophie appeared from between the shelves—of course carrying fluffy little Dickens in her arms. “I love him so much, Mommy,” she said, peering up. “Can’t we take him home? Pleeeease.”
Oh boy, here we go again.
It was starting to seem dangerous to bring Sophie to the bookstore. “Soph, honey, we’ve discussed this. Having a cat takes a lot of work—and money, that we just don’t have right now.”
“But . . . ” Then Sophie flashed her best pouty face and sad eyes—almost enough to do Sue Ann in. Yet she refused to let it. Even if the kitty did start looking a little cuter to her every time she saw it. “You got a new job yesterday. That’s more money, right?”
Sue Ann could only sigh. “More money that we need for other things. And between my schedule and yours, we’ll barely be home. Come on, honey—say goodbye to Dickens for now and we’ll go home and make cookies like we planned. Then we’ll get out the sleds—remember?”
She saw Sophie struggling, trying to decide if she should keep arguing or just look forward to the fun afternoon ahead, and eventually her little girl gave a soft nod and said, “All right.” Then she hugged the gray kitten to her chest and said, “I’ll see you soon, Dickens. I’ll miss you. Bye.”
Okay, good—another bullet dodged. At least for today.
Next mission: Get Adam Becker out of her head.
Because, again, there was so much else occupying space there that needed her attention—and heck, now she had a house to put on the market, too. Which would take a hellacious amount of work in the new year. And then she’d need to find a new place, figure out what kind of home she and Sophie actually wanted—and all while settling into a new job and studying for her real estate exam, too. So yeah, this was no time to add a pet to the mix. And this was no time to keep letting herself pine over a man.
My God, I just stopped pining for one and now I’m already pining for another?
What kind of madness had her once simple, settled life become?
So even as she said her goodbyes and gathered up her bags and her child, she lectured herself.
No more Adam.
No more thinking about his kisses.
Or the hot, hot sex we shared.
It was getting-back-on-the-horse sex, that was all—all it
can
be.
No more feeling jealous at the mere mention of his name
. Oh Lord, she’d practically behaved like he’d told her Sheila once had. So it stopped. Now.
Pushing through the door and out onto the sidewalk, she glanced back as she held it open for Sophie behind her, then started forward—only to barrel straight into a solid, sturdy male body. They both let out little
oomph
noises at the impact, and then she looked up—into the warmest, sexiest blue eyes she’d ever seen.
. . . they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time . . .
Charles Dickens,
A Christmas Carol
U
h-oh. So much for her “no more Adam” plan.
As his gloved hands rose to her shoulders to steady her, his gaze widened. “Sue Ann.”
“Adam,” she breathed.
Oh brother—don’t breathe at him.
You sound like a smitten schoolgirl.
“Sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
And when he smiled at her and said, “Not a problem, sugar plum,” she felt it squarely between her thighs. Talk about madness.
Oh Adam, why do you have to be here, now, for heaven’s sake?
Because she might have dodged a bullet with the cat, but
this
bullet was hitting her, hard, embedding itself straight into her heart. He stood before her, his dark hair mussed, jaw stubbled, bundled in a winter jacket and blue jeans, a striped scarf of hunter green and burgundy circling his neck. His cheeks were slightly red from the cold, but . . . oh my—those eyes of his were like hot blue flames, making it so she didn’t even feel the brisk December wind. And that fast, her heart beat too hard and she was wanting him again.
But wait, stop.
I can do this.
I’m a big girl—I can push down my desires and stick to my plan.
And she was going to start by . . . acting more normal than smitten. Even if the last time she’d seen him she’d been dodging his kiss.
“So . . . what’s up?” she asked.
“Not much,” he told her.
“Christmas shopping?”
“Um . . . actually, to be honest,” he said, taking on that slightly sheepish look she found so inexplicably endearing on him, “I’m heading to Dolly’s for a piece of pumpkin pie. Because I’m done at work for the day and not in the mood to go home to a quiet house.”
“Oh.” Damn, that made her sad. “Still missing the boys?”
His simple shrug said it all—then he changed the subject by reaching down to ruffle Sophie’s hair. “How’s it goin’, kiddo?”
Sophie tilted her little blond head and replied, “Okay, I guess. Mommy still won’t let me have a cat, but we’re gonna go home and make cookies, and then go sled riding, too!”
“Well, that sounds fun. Who needs a cat when you’ve got all that to keep you busy, right?”
Glancing down at Sophie, Sue Ann saw that she truly seemed to be considering his words. “Yeah, I guess Dickens wouldn’t be very good at that stuff.”
“Dickens is the cat in question?” Adam asked, switching his look briefly from Sophie to Sue Ann. She nodded, and he looked back to Sophie to say, “Cat hair and cookies don’t go too well together. And cats are terrible sled riders. Now—my dog, Pepper, though, is great on a sled.”
Sophie let out a giggle, smiling up at Adam. “No he’s not. You’re teasing me.”
“Would I do that?” he asked playfully.
And Sophie gave a big, emphatic nod that made them all laugh.
“Kid’s got my number,” Adam said, lifting his gaze back to Sue Ann.
She didn’t answer, just smiling a bit more, busy commanding herself,
Don’t want him, don’t want him, don’t want him,
until he said, “Well, guess I’ll head on to Dolly’s. You girls have a fun afternoon, okay?”
And—hell. She couldn’t stop herself. “Are
you
any good at cookies? Or sledding?”
A sexy glint shone in his eye when he said, “It so happens I am a master sledder. Cookies—not so much, but I can promise not to get any hair in them.”
Sophie giggled once more, and—holy crap—Sue Ann felt his response tingling through her like softly falling snowflakes. If snowflakes were tingly. And hot. Though maybe it wasn’t his response so much as the flirtation in his gaze. “Well, if you can bear to pass up Dolly’s pie, you’re welcome to join us for cookies and sledding.”
“Hmm,” he said, eyes narrowing as he appeared to weigh it carefully. “It’s pretty good pie. But . . . ” He glanced back and forth between her and Sophie. “All right, you talked me into it.”
They made plans for Adam to follow them home, and on the short walk to the car, with Sophie’s little mitten-covered hand in hers, Sue Ann girded herself. She’d only invited him over because she felt bad for him, that was all. And if Sophie were away for a whole month, this month in particular, she’d be moping around like crazy. And if she’d learned nothing else lately, it was that Adam was going to be in her life. He just was. So having him over seemed like a good chance to prove she could be with him without . . .
being with him
.
It’s not because I want him.
It’s not.
Even if her thighs ached as she walked to the car.
Even if her heart beat harder with the mere knowledge that they’d soon be spending time together again.
Then—dear Lord—a little shiver actually shook her, and she felt it all the way through her body, and in some key places more than others. Yikes.
“Cold, Mommy?” Sophie asked, peering innocently up at her.
“Um . . . yeah, that’s it—I’m cold.”
Uh-huh, you just keep telling yourself that
.
A
dam wasn’t very good in the kitchen, but he tried. Mainly, he liked being close to Sue Ann, and without planning it, he kept finding reasons to touch her in small ways as the three of them maneuvered about the space. A touch on the shoulder as he stepped around her to grab more dough from the fridge, a hand on her waist to keep her from backing into him with a hot tray of cookies.
They found a rhythm—Sue Ann rolled out the dough, then let Sophie cut out the shapes of trees, snowmen, stars, and stockings with Adam’s help. He removed the excess dough from around the shapes before Sue Ann gently scooped them onto the baking sheet with a spatula and into the oven. He and Sophie were also in charge of decorating after the finished cookies cooled—and of eating any that ended up broken or burnt. Holiday music echoed from the living room the whole while, and beyond the kitchen window a light snow began to fall.
Of course, he knew Sue Ann had invited him over because she felt sorry for him. And that kinda would have sucked except . . . he sensed it was about more than just pity. He sensed that she might be starting to care for him, too, in just the way he wanted her to. But he didn’t plan to push that with her today—nope, he just let himself enjoy the afternoon. And more than that, he made sure he was being real with her, being his real, everyday self, just as he’d realized he should. And as a result, he was pretty sure they were
all
enjoying the afternoon.
And just to reassure her, on one particular occasion when both his palms closed lightly over her hips to keep them from colliding, he leaned near and softly said, “I’m not trying to put the moves on you here, by the way.”
“I know,” she said pleasantly over her shoulder.
Then they went on about what they were doing, Sue Ann bending to put a tray of cookies in the oven while Adam grabbed milk from the fridge to mix up more icing. Of course, the fact that he wasn’t putting the moves on her didn’t stop him from enjoying the view of Sue Ann from behind.
Once all the cookies were baked and decorated, Adam asked, “So are we ready to break out those sleds?”
“Yeah!” Sophie yelled.
But Sue Ann, looking pretty damn adorable in a frilly red and white Mrs. Santa themed apron with flour smudged on one cheek, put her hands on her hips and said, “Well, not until we get this mess cleaned up.”
Okay, so he hadn’t noticed the mess until that moment. But now that he looked, the kitchen table was covered with racks of freshly decorated cookies—with drips of icing and colored sugars sprinkling the spaces in between. The counter was spattered with flour, as well as dirty cookie cutters and a rolling pin. And greasy cookie sheets set stacked atop the stove.
“Make ya a deal,” he said.
She tilted her head and didn’t quite smile, but a playful gleam entered her gaze. “Let’s hear it.”
“You forget about this and go sledding with us, and when we come back, I’ll do clean-up duty.”
In response, she tilted her head the other way, and just when he thought she was going to insist on not leaving the mess for later, she said, “Well, that’s an offer too good to pass up, so you got it, mister.” She whipped off the apron as Sophie cheered.
Adam headed to the storage shed in the backyard in search of sleds while Sue Ann and Sophie changed into snow clothes and got bundled up. He was pleased to find several old-fashioned, wooden Flexible Flyers, complete with their signature red runners, well-aged and probably passed down through Sue Ann’s or Jeff’s family—and one of them was even kid-sized. Steel runner sleds weren’t great for fresh powder, but today’s new snow was light, and a slower ride for Sophie wasn’t a bad idea anyway.
Given that he worked outdoors most of the time, often even in winter, he kept extra gear in his truck, so after dropping the sleds in the driveway, he found himself a hat and a thicker coat to put over the winter jacket he already wore. The snow was really coming down now—but he was actually starting to enjoy this snowy December. At first, it had come far too early for his liking, but he couldn’t deny how pretty it looked draping the boughs of evergreens like white icing or lying like a thick blanket now across Sue Ann’s rooftop with the Christmas lights he’d put up peeking out from the edge.
And when Sue Ann and Sophie exited the front door, he was reminded that this early snow was what had brought him and Sue Ann together in the first place. So . . . yeah, now that he thought about it, he was suddenly liking the snow a lot.
Within a few minutes, they’d dragged the old sleds up quiet Holly Lane, where the dead end met with an old fence and a thin line of trees that gave way to a vacant, rolling hillside. Sugar Creek, which wound past the Farris-Romo Family Apple Orchard before carving a path south of town, gurgled past somewhere at the foot of the incline.
Adam quickly figured out that Sophie hadn’t done much sledding before, so he gave her some pointers and stuck close by her side, taking one of the bigger Flyers down the hill right behind her. Other than a couple of minor spills, she did great, and her laughter made it clear she was having a good time.
Sue Ann didn’t seem particularly skilled with the sled herself, and after one or two slow, choppy trips down the hill, she mostly just watched from the top. Adam didn’t say anything, keeping his focus on watching out for Sophie, but he couldn’t help being amused—she’d acted like she was such a cookie
and
sledding expert earlier.
Once Sophie had really gotten the hang of things and the two of them had just reascended the hill together, wooden sleds pulled behind, he said to her, loud enough for Sue Ann to hear, “You keep going—I’m gonna go help your mom out, make sure to give her a good ride.” And Sue Ann’s face bloomed a bright pink color in response, from more than just the cold.
Adam couldn’t hold in his laughter, which was probably a little lascivious, even as he added, “Down the hill.” To let her know she was the only one who’d taken his words in a naughty way—and teasing her about it.
She bit her lip, looking appropriately embarrassed, even as she tried to squelch the grin sneaking out—and Adam wasted no time situating himself on the sled behind her. Which meant pressing his body up against hers, of course. Which was damn nice. “Hi,” he whispered low in her ear, leaning close as he reached his arms around her for the Flyer’s rope.
“Hi,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible, and tinged with a timid ardor that made him just want to wrap around her even closer and pull her into a warm embrace.
But that’s not what today is about.
Today is about just being with her and Sophie, not pushing the sex, or even the romance.
Even if she felt perfect cuddled in front of him. And even if he feared he was starting to get a little hard against her ass.
“You’re not much of a sledder,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
“I guess I haven’t really gone sledding much since I was a kid. I guess I remember it being easier.”
“Well, no worries, sugar plum,” he said deeply. “Just hold on and enjoy the ride.”
“Hold on where?” she asked.
But Adam had already put the sled in motion and they were beginning to descend the hill, gaining speed, so he said, “Wherever you can.” And Sue Ann gripped onto both his knees through the denim and he liked having her hands on him as he maneuvered the sled down the slope.
With so much weight on the Flyer, it picked up speed more rapidly than on other trips, and before he knew it, Sue Ann was letting out a high-pitched squeal, latching her arms around his legs as if for dear life, and expecting him to control the sled at the same time. Not that he minded—while she screeched, he chuckled, the wintry wind brisk on his face and snow flurries flying in his eyes; it was the best damn run down the hill he’d had.
Until—whoops!—the sled flew over a rise too fast, hit the curving slope of snow unevenly, and they both went tumbling off into a rolling heap of flailing arms and legs.