Any Given Christmas (16 page)

She nodded.

“While I had dinner with Bo and his family, I had the opportunity to watch the interaction between him and his son.” He took her hands in his and intertwined their fingers. “Watching them together… able to laugh together, but without the ability to reciprocate the affection. Em, I swear I could feel the desperation of how badly my friend wants to help his little boy. It broke my heart.”

He gripped her hands, which helped to steady her.

“I went home and got on the internet. I started compiling research on therapy for kids like Brenden. The more I looked, the more fascinating it became.” The enthusiasm in his voice was tangible. “Do you know that one of every 110 children will register somewhere on the autism spectrum?”

“Yes, I do know. I learned that in one of my classes.”

“Those are awful statistics.”

“I agree. But what does this have to do with me, Dean?”

He looked away. His wide shoulders lifted on a big intake of air. Then he looked back at her with serious eyes. “You were right, Em. If I want to make a difference I have to get my hands dirty.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I have almost seven months before I need to be in training camp. There’s no reason I can’t rehab here and get the organization started.”

Emma melted like butter on a summer sidewalk. She squeezed his hands. “That’s great, Dean. I’m really happy to hear that. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“That’s the funny thing. For the first time in my life, I’m not doing something for me. And it feels pretty damned good.”

The happy gleam in his eye reached out and grabbed hold of her heart.

“It would be nice to know you’re behind me.”

Her throat felt so tight she could barely speak. “I support you 100 percent.”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say.” He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head beneath his chin.

The scent of his soap clung to his warm skin and she stayed in his arms for several greedy breaths. It took everything she had to step from his embrace when all she wanted to do was stay right there in the sanctuary of his arms, snuggled up against his strong, compassionate heart. But being in his arms was too risky. He was still a temporary fixture. Once his shoulder mended, once his organization got off the ground, he would leave.

“I’m very happy for you. But…”

His dark brows lifted. “But?”

“I really need to get back inside.” She turned.

“Em.” He caught her hand, smoothed his thumb across her fingers. “Please, don’t go. Can we go somewhere? Talk about the details?”

She couldn’t look at him. If she did, she’d run the risk of leaping into his arms and hanging on for dear life while he revved up his engine to leave her behind like roadkill. “This is
your
project, Dean. It doesn’t involve me.”

“Sure it does.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Nothing you do involves me.”

“You’re wrong. Look at all the time and energy you’re investing to learn more about these issues. To get a specialized degree so you can work toward helping these kids. Don’t you think this might be a perfect opportunity for you too?”

“It might be. But I just can’t.” She looked up and for the first time realized that Dean Silverthorne might be able to take a thousand-pound hit on the field, but he was not unbreakable. “Look, I think it’s wonderful that you plan to stay here and take on this challenge. And I know you’ll be successful. But nothing has changed since New Year’s Day.”

“A lot has changed.”

“Not for me. I have plans, Dean.” The urge to flee reached up and strangled her. And in her anxious state the words rushed out much harsher than she intended. “And you’re not in them.”

W
ell, hell, that didn’t go the way he’d planned.

Dean watched Emma retreat across the deserted road and back into the bar. Arms folded, he stood beside the SUV he’d bought in Bozeman and debated whether to follow her back into the bar or head home.

He’d hoped she might be a little happy to see him. Excited he’d made the decision to organize the camp on his own instead of hiring others to do the majority of the work. He’d still have to hire those more knowledgeable in specific areas, but none of that seemed to make a difference.

He’d never had a woman walk away from him.

Hell, he’d never had a woman tell him no for anything.

Emma Hart was his first in many ways. In a weird way he completely respected that. He didn’t like it. But he respected it.

That didn’t stop him from wanting her, however. From the moment he’d walked into that bar and seen her sitting there in her ridiculous Packers cap to the moment he touched her, he’d wanted her. Right then. Didn’t matter how. Didn’t matter where. What surprised him most was that he didn’t just want to have sex with her. There’d been no doubt about that.

But he wanted more.

He wanted
her
.

As the bar door slowly closed behind her and the sound of jeers and boos from inside the place faded, Dean unfolded his arms and started walking.

No matter how difficult or awkward it might be, he would go back into that bar and sit down with his friends and family. He’d ignore Emma’s stubbornness and Jesse Hamilton’s glares, and he’d watch his boys kick Green Bay’s cheese-head asses.

Come tomorrow, he’d find a new tactic to entice Emma onto his own team.

T
he Stallions’ chances for the Big Show went cleats-up in the third quarter.

While Dean had nursed a bitter ale and his wounded pride, his team had allowed two turnovers to the Packers that turned disastrous. One had been taken in for a touchdown, the other had ended up a field goal that perfectly split the uprights.

Guilt hung like a chain around his neck. Sure, he hadn’t been the one throwing the ball that night. But he’d let his team down as sure as if he’d thrown that intercepted pass. Jacoby had gone into the game overconfident, and when the going got tough, the backup QB had quit on the team.

Even with his shoulder out of the socket and pain ripping through his body, Dean had needed to be dragged off the field and into the locker room. Or at least that’s the way he saw it. And maybe a few other vocal online critics saw it that way as well.

He had always fought against failure. He’d never given up. The desire to succeed pushed him. Drove him. But even as he watched his team lose their chance at the Super Bowl, his hammering need to triumph hadn’t completely kept his mind occupied.

As expected, Emma had ignored him the rest of that night and to make matters worse, he’d had to suffer through watching Hamilton flirt with her. Emma appeared to have gotten sucked right into the farm supply owner’s “Look at what a good, upstanding guy I am” routine.

When the game had ended with a series of groans and complaints from the inebriated spectators at the Naughty Irish, Jesse had accompanied Emma out the door.
He’d
taken her home while Dean had gone home to an empty house. With thoughts of Emma traipsing through his head, Dean had been unable to sleep. To keep those thoughts of her at bay, he’d stayed up all night researching the internet for more information on how to create a non-profit organization.

Days later he sat in the downstairs office of the lodge house, turned on the laptop he’d brought from Houston, and checked emails. One from his agent asked the progress of his recovery. Dean hit the delete key. Two more were from his coach, asking the progress of his recovery. Delete. Delete. None of the emails were personalized. There had been no “Hey, what’s up, butthead?” and Dean began to realize that they valued his arm more than him.

Outside the big picture window in his office, snow drifted down and steam rose from the hot springs. He should just take a bottle of Jack down there and have a good sip and soak. But whiskey at ten in the morning had never been his breakfast of champions. Besides, every time he looked at that damn hot springs, he thought of Emma naked and wet and so hot for him she nearly melted the granite surrounding the pool.

He thought of the way the moonlight had peeked through the clouds to come out and dance in her hair. The way the fireworks over the lake had glittered in her eyes. The way she grabbed his hair between her fingers and cried out his name while she came against his tongue. He couldn’t ever remember celebrating New Year’s in such a dynamic way.

The following day changed things for him. In his mind he could see them cuddled up and laughing together. Something he never did with the women he usually dated. He’d never been a cuddler. Hell, just using the word threatened the retraction of his “man” card.

He shook his head. Emma was a strong woman who knew what she wanted.

Unfortunately, she didn’t want
him
.

He stood and with the backs of his knees he shoved the desk chair away. He went into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. He’d just dropped in two cubes of sugar when the doorbell rang. His bare feet squeaked against the hardwood floor as he went to the huge double doors and opened one. His sister Kelly stood on the veranda. Snow dusted her blond hair. Her nose was pink and she clasped the front of her soft pink parka together.

“Let me in, I’m freezing out here.” She pushed past him and strode into the living room. Snow clung to the soles of her boots and left a trail of melted droplets across the floor.

“Nice to see you, little sister. How was your flight?”

“Typical. Why is it these airlines can never seem to get out of the gate on time?”

“They try.”

“Yeah. Tell that to the screaming kid who sat behind me all the way from Chicago to LA kicking the back of my seat. And please remind me of that the next time you need a favor.”

“I really do appreciate it, Kel.”

“I know. Actually, I had a moment to stop in at the Shack on the way here.”

“How’s it going?”

“Busy.” She tugged off her coat, tossed it on the back of the leather sofa, and went to stand by the fire in the enormous stone fireplace. “Kate’s up to her elbows in Valentine’s Day specialty cake orders. Dad’s off helping Edna Price install a new water heater. And I’m here to help you.”

He lifted the cup to his mouth and sipped the tepid coffee. “When do you head back to Chicago?”

“Tomorrow. So let’s get this summer camp deal off the ground. There’s a ton of paperwork to file.”

“That’s why I called you back. Cup of Joe?”

“Please. Fake sugar. Got cream?”

“Milk.”

“That’ll do.” She followed him into the kitchen where the bank of windows overlooked the snow-covered meadow. “I still can’t believe you bought this place. You must have paid a fortune.”

“Nope.” He picked up the glass carafe and poured the coffee into a mug. “It had been on the market for so long the owners were eager to make a deal. When I told them what I wanted to do with the property I must have touched something in their hearts because I only paid half of what it’s worth.”

Kelly’s green eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He handed her the coffee. “Want a tour?”

“Duh. I’ve driven by this place a million times and have never set foot on the property before.”

Dean led the way up the stairs. “Not even to sneak in a soak in the hot springs?”

Kelly gasped. “It has a hot springs?”

Dean stopped so fast she ran into his backside. “Man, you really are Sister Serious, aren’t you?”

“I’m
what
?”

“Didn’t you ever put down the books and break out of the scholar dungeon for a little fun when you were a kid?”

Her small nose wrinkled. “Apparently not.”

“Then I say put them down right now and learn to cut loose a little.”

“Yeah. See, that’s not a good idea.” She sighed. “When I
cut loose
I have a tendency to lose all control.”

They reached the top of the stairs. “Hmmm. Kate’s wedding reception?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Hangover?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Would I have to kill someone?”

“Yeah. Me.”

“Not a certain deputy with a wild reputation?”

Kelly’s head jerked up. “Why would you say that?”

“Personal knowledge of going in for the easy score.”

“I am
not
an easy score.”

Dean laughed. “Everybody’s easy when they’re drunk off their ass. Come on, wipe off that prosecutor’s glare. A tour of this place might take awhile.”

True to his word, it took Dean almost half an hour to show his sister the five-bedroom, four-bath house plus adjacent acreage and outbuildings. She’d appropriately oohed and ahhed over his plans to turn the guest cabins into bunkhouses for the kids and counselors, and grinned at his dream of adding horses and smaller animals for sensitivity therapy. She made him promise to hold a big BBQ as soon as the weather warmed up and the snow melted.

They strolled back into the house and Dean poured her another cup of coffee before he guided her toward his office.

“Don’t take this as an insult,” she said, admiring the rough timber grandfather clock in the hall. “But I can’t believe you came up with this idea all on your own.”