A Christmas to Believe In (10 page)

"Ready?" she asked in little more than a whisper.

Throat too tight to speak, Clint nodded. He moved to the

door before her fingers could graze the knob and pulled it

open. With an outstretched hand, he stopped her exit. "Keys."

"Keys?" she echoed.

"I'll drive. When I break my leg tonight, you can drive

back."

Her light laugh only fanned that blissful warmth into a rush

of heat. She pushed past his hand, grabbed hold of his wrist

and dragged him out the door. "They're in the car, silly. So

are the boys."

The boys. Right. He'd almost forgotten they'd have

company tonight. Not that he particularly minded. But on the

heels of their afternoon together, all he cared about was

finding a few minutes where they could be alone, so he could

thoroughly explore those rosy lips.

He let himself inside the driver's seat and turned around to

face the three boys crammed into Jesse's back seat. "Hey,

Ethan."

Ethan grunted in reply. He looked beyond Clint, out the

windshield, expressionless.

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So much for the idea of a pleasant car ride, too. Clint told

himself Ethan's rudeness didn't bother him. Yet, down deep

where it mattered, he wanted the boy to like him. He'd

always gotten along well with kids. The teens who worked for

him in the summer rarely complained, and when he'd briefly

substituted at the junior high, they'd called him cool.

Maybe it was just puberty. Thirteen hadn't been the

easiest year for him either, as he recalled.

As he rolled down the driveway, he glanced in the rearview

mirror. Ethan's gaze locked with his, narrowed, then cut to his

lap.

Clint furrowed his brow and navigated the turn. The

highway stretched out before them, a long dark ribbon that

led into the heart of the city.

The boy in the back with red hair shattered the silence as

he leaned forward to look at the other two. "Dude, did you

hear Elaine say Stephanie would be there?"

"No way," the kid in the middle said. "Ethan, didn't

Stephanie give you her number?"

Clint chanced a glance in the mirror, catching Ethan's self-

satisfied smirk.

"Yeah. I talked to her for like three hours the other night."

Clint slid his gaze to Jesse, chuckling silently at her

amused grin. If there was one subject that could pull a

teenage boy out of sulking, it was girls. Evidently pretty ones,

at that.

"Aw man, you suck," the redhead complained. "I'd give my

left one to have her calling me."

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Jesse's brows pinched together. Twisting in her seat, she

scolded, "Language, Sam. I'm still here."

He hung his head and looked up through lowered lashes.

"Sorry, Jessica."

There it was again—Jessica. It sounded out of place. Her

parents had been the only people who called her by her given

name, excepting teachers on the first day of school. In third

grade, she'd nearly broken a boy's thumb when he'd made

the fatal mistake of using her full name. Why had she

adopted it now?

"Just keep it clean. We'll be out of your hair soon enough,"

Jesse added as she scooted around to face forward again.

"Yes, ma'am," the boy in the middle chimed in.

Clint drove the rest of the way in silence, listening to the

occasional snippets of adolescent chatter that drifted from the

back seat. When they arrived at Crown Center, he parked in

the underground lot and shut the engine off. Before he had

one foot on the ground, all three boys shot-gunned out of the

car.

Bolting to his feet, Clint leaned over the car's roof.

"Ethan."

Ethan stopped mid-stride. His shoulders stiffened, and his

jaw pulled tight as he turned around. "Yeah?"

Giving him a look that said he wouldn't put up with any

arguments, Clint gestured at the car. "Get your mother's

door."

For a moment, Ethan did nothing more than blink. His

mouth opened, then closed, and he stared at Jesse's door like

he'd never seen the side of a car. Then, as if everything came

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together at once in his brain, he strode forward and eased the

door open.

"Thank you," Jesse murmured. As she climbed out, a

pretty pink colored her cheeks.

"Can we go, Mom? It's so not cool to have you hanging

around if Stephanie's here."

Clint resisted the urge to chuckle, sensing his humor

wouldn't be appreciated. But Jesse did it for him. She let out

a light laugh and shooed Ethan away. "Go on. I'll be on the

ice, though, so watch yourself."

The young man's sullen demeanor cracked with a smile

that showed off neat white teeth, seconds before he broke

into a jog.

Walking around the front of the car, Clint joined Jesse.

"You're really taking me on the ice?"

"You really think I'd let you out of it?"

Shaking his head, he gave in to his laughter. "No." Not in a

hundred years. She'd gloat if he fell, and it would become one

more story, amongst their many, to reminisce over, years

from now.

"That was sweet of you, Clint."

"What was?"

She nodded toward the skating rink. "Ethan. Having him

get my door."

Clint shrugged. "It's something he should learn. I hear

women like these things."

"That's what makes you so special," she remarked in a low

voice. "If he spent time with no one but you and your

brothers, he'd turn out okay. More than okay."

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His chest tightened at her praise. For the first time since

he could remember, someone stopped to tell him, in so many

words, that he mattered. Not for what he owned, not for what

he could do for someone else—just the things that made him

what he was. It mattered little that she'd included his

brothers in the statement. She'd included
him
.

At a loss, he nodded again and fell into step at her side,

following her into the indoor concession stand and rental

counter. Stale air filled his nostrils, blending with the scent of

nacho cheese, popcorn and hot dogs. Memories hit him full

force—junior high, much like Ethan and his friends did now,

they'd come here almost every weekend when the rink was

open. Heath had split his lip on the ice his first time out on

skates. Alex had his first date on a snowy December night.

And Clint had a birthday party here one year. His fourteenth.

Every excursion involved Jesse. She'd brought chips of ice

for Heath, teased Alex mercilessly, and dropped her cupcake

on the ice. For as far back as his memories went, she was a

fixture in his life. As much a part as his brothers.

The lump in his gut rolled heavily. He stood to lose so

much. If this, whatever it was that brewed between them,

ended badly, all those memories would bring regret.

Yet, even as he considered the dilemma, he couldn't

imagine any other option. Damned if he knew what it was,

but she had something he needed. And the yearning to

possess that something ate at him like salt on a wound. He

longed to wrap his fingers around it. Hold on tight. Absorb

every miniscule particle of whatever it was.

Never let go.

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Her dainty fingers wrapped around his wrist, and she gave

him a tug. "C'mon, fraidy cat. Let's get our skates."

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A gust of cold air rushed beneath Jesse's coat as she

skated around a corner. She edged closer to Clint, in search

of his natural warmth. Around her hand, strong fingers gave a

soft squeeze, and she looked up to smile into his bright

amber eyes.

"Cold?" he asked above the music that poured from the

loud speakers.

"Yeah."

He pulled up short, using the toe of his skate to dig into

the ice. It hadn't taken either one of them long to remember

how to skate. After a couple slips, a near fall when four

teenagers rushed around them, and a retreat to the far outer

edge of the rink, they'd slipped into old habit. The only

difference, tonight Clint reached out and closed the distance

by holding her hand.

"Want to turn in the skates and get some cocoa?"

She searched the sea of kids and couples, looking for

Ethan's blond head. She found him leaning on the rail, Sam

and Mark flanking, while they talked to a group of young girls

on the opposite side. "I should stay close..."

"Why?" He gave her hand a bounce. "He's thirteen. He

can't go anywhere, and he's not likely to get into trouble

here."

He had a point. At some time she had to let go and trust.

Completely. Ethan wanted this life as much as she did. He

wouldn't deliberately risk being pulled out of her home by

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getting into unnecessary trouble. Besides, it had been a good

year since he'd done anything to give her cause to worry.

With a decisive dip of her chin, she relented. "Okay. Cocoa

sounds good."

Clint pushed off the ice, gently pulling her along behind

him as he headed for the exit. When they stepped into the

heated concession room, two teenage girls looked up,

covered their mouths to whisper between themselves, then

broke into giggles. Jesse suppressed a smirk. They weren't

the first to observe Clint. In fact, she'd found more than one

pair of female eyes on him tonight. And like they had in high

school, the appreciative gazes quickly cut to her, full of envy.

The difference being, where she'd laughed at the jealously

her friendship with the King brothers created back then,

tonight the envious glares sent a prideful thrill rushing all the

way down to her toes. Clint was handsome. His dark hair,

aquiline nose, strong jaw and sensual mouth would make any

woman look up and take notice. But it went beyond that too.

His very presence called attention. At a little over six foot, his

powerful frame dominated the room. A figure meant to

intimidate, yet shrouded by a welcoming smile and a warm

twinkle in his bright eyes.

She looked away from him, her body flushing with

uncustomary warmth. Taking time to appreciate Clint's good

looks would only lead to trouble. She still couldn't get the

image of him in a tux out of her head—nor the intensity in his

eyes when she'd found him staring at her through the mirror.

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He led them to a small bench, and she sat down to untie

her laces. When she pulled the skates off, she wriggled her

stiff toes, welcoming the warmth of the room.

"Here." He held out an empty hand, indicating her skates.

"I'll get our shoes."

"Thanks. My legs feel like jelly."

A wry grin tugged the corner of his mouth and pulled his

solitary dimple into play. "Wuss."

As he walked in front of her, Jesse slapped him in the butt.

His chuckle lingered long after he disappeared across the

room. In moments, he returned, her tennis shoes in one

hand, his hiking boots in the other. While she tied her laces,

he stuffed his feet in and disappeared again.

Jesse looked up to find him at the concession stand, and

her heart did a little tap-dance against her ribs. She'd tried to

convince herself all night this was nothing other than two old

friends getting together to chaperone teenagers. But the way

Clint attended to her, the way he insisted on paying, finally

pushed the realization through her brain—something else was

happening here. She didn't know exactly what, but Clinton

King had never paid for so much as a can of Coke without

loaning
her the change.

In all their time together, he'd never once treated her any

differently than Alex or Heath. She'd watched him a hundred

times or more with girlfriends, and a different man appeared.

One who knew the rules of long-dead chivalry. One who doted

on whichever woman shared his company.

Now, she stood on the receiving end of his gentlemanly

manners. And for the life of her, she'd never have believed a

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simple paper cup of cocoa could make her tummy flutter like

she'd swallowed a boxful of butterflies.

His eyes locked with hers as he returned, those rich amber

portals setting off a tremor deep inside her soul. Her hand

shook as she accepted the drink, and she chuckled to hide a

sudden bout of nervousness.

"It'll warm you up," he murmured as he sat back down to

tie his boots.

She could think of a dozen things or more that would

warm her up far better. All involving him. But she bit down on