Falling Like Snowflakes (27 page)

On the night before Christmas Eve she tucked Micah into bed, pulling the soft quilt to his chin. He smelled like Ivory soap and damp hair. She'd tried to hide her stress from him the past couple days. The little boy was finally coming out of his quiet shell, and she didn't want to set him back.

He obviously liked having Beau around all day. They played Go Fish and Jenga, and Beau let him help with minor household repairs. Micah was particularly enamored with the electric screwdriver and had sought out every loose screw in the house. The thing was as big as he was, but Beau helped him steady it.

“Presents tomorrow?” he asked. The sound of his little-boy voice still made her heart sing. He'd been stringing together words more and more.

“One present tomorrow
night
. The rest on Christmas Day.”

His big brown eyes pleaded as he clutched the cover. “Two?”

“One.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But nice try.”

After turning out the lights and saying good night, she padded down the stairs.
A Christmas Carol
was on tap for tonight, though Eden could see from the closed bedroom door that Miss Trudy had already turned in for the night. Looked like it was just her and Beau.

Her pulse skittered at the thought, and she reminded her heart that nothing was going to happen. She was going to get her nightly glass of water, settle on the opposite end of the sofa, watch the movie, then offer a polite good night. Just as she had last night and the night before that.

When she entered the kitchen she spotted Beau at the sink.
Her heart leapt at the sight of him, not quite buying into her pep talk. He wore a black thermal shirt that showed off his muscular frame and a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places.

“All tucked in?”

Her eyes jerked to his, her cheeks warming at her thoughts.

She approached the sink and tugged the mug from his hand, nudging him aside. “Stop doing my job, mister.”

“It's just a few odds and ends.”

That voice, deep and throaty. And the faint whiff of his spicy cologne wasn't doing much to distract her from the fact that they were alone in the quiet kitchen.

“I already feel bad enough that you're missing work. And poor Zac, trying to run the farm and a restaurant.”

There you go, Eden. Bring his brother into the room with you.

“We got it covered. And hey, I'm getting stuff done around here I've been putting off for years.”

“Jack really likes working with you.”

And by all means, bring your son into the picture too.

“Thanks for letting him help. I know he slows you down.”

“He's pretty handy with the tools for a little guy.” He took the mug from her and dried it with the dish towel as she pulled another cup from the suds.

“He probably stripped every screw in the house.”

Beau's lips turned up. “Nah, he did really well.”

She ran the washcloth over the mug, then rinsed it, the warm water rushing over her fingers. She turned off the faucet, and Beau took the mug from her.

The refrigerator cycled on, purring quietly. She checked for more dirty dishes and found nothing, so she pulled the plug. The water gurgled down the drain.

Beau handed her the towel and put the mug in the cabinet beside him. She glanced at him as she dried her hands. He sported a five o'clock shadow on his square jaw, a look she'd always loved, but never so much as now. She wondered if it would feel bristly or soft against her palm.

“Mistletoe,” he said softly.

“Hmm?” She followed his gaze to the hook above the sink. The familiar sprig of greenery had found its way back to the sink.

Her eyes fell to him, and she gave a nervous laugh. “Your aunt is downright relentless.”

The corner of his lip kicked up.

Nice lips. Slightly full on the bottom, nicely curved on top. Perfect for kissing.

Stop it, Eden
.

“She is,” he said. “Relentless
and
ornery.” He shifted closer until they were almost touching. Until his manly smell enveloped her. “But she's not the one who moved it.”

Not the one who—? Her eyes searched his face. Something flared in his dark mocha eyes. Her heart flopped over. Oh.

Oh.

She
hadn't
been imagining things. Wasn't imagining the softening in his eyes just now or the way the air seemed to hum around them.

He cupped her chin, coming closer, their bodies a breath apart.

Step away
, her brain screamed. But her body was having none of that. His warmth surrounded her, seeping into her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, and her lungs failed at the very basic task of emptying.

“There's something here.” His voice was like liquid honey. “We've been dancing around it for weeks.” His thumb moved
across her jaw, stirring every cell to life. His eyes pierced hers, holding her captive. “I've been trying to ignore it, but . . .”

“We should,” she croaked. “We should just ignore it.” Her heart went to war with her mind. She'd never been so torn between want and need.

“That's one way to go. But it hasn't worked so far. Not for me. I don't think it's working for you either.”

Yes it is.
The lie caught in her throat, jamming up anything else she might say.

“Am I wrong?”

She watched his lips move. They looked so soft. The beautiful shade, a light dusky pink, was her new favorite color. If she designed a website for her feelings right now, that's the color she'd make it.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, the motion sending a shiver down her spine. “Maybe we should just . . . get it out of our systems.”

Not a bad idea
, her heart said.

Ridiculous
, her brain replied.

His eyes were filled with wanting, those lighter flecks like tiny sparks of passion. They ignited something inside her she hadn't felt in years. She'd forgotten how this could feel, wasn't sure she'd ever felt it quite so strongly. Impossible to resist.

“It might work,” he whispered. He lowered his head, slowly, coming closer. His breath fell on her like a tantalizing prelude.

Then his lips touched hers, soft and supple. Barely a brush. So slow and careful, as if he wanted to make it last. She strained toward him, and he rewarded her with another brush of his lips.

A curl of warmth unfurled in her chest. Heat rippled through her, down each limb, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

His hand slid along her jaw and into her hair, making every hair follicle tingle with awareness. Her heart rolled over and played dead.

This man. This kiss . . .

The pressure lightened, and he drew back a fraction of an inch. A whimper caught in her throat.

“I think it's working,” he whispered. His breath fluttered her lips, teasing.

“Definitely.” She leaned toward him until their lips met again.

He kissed her more hungrily this time, and she opened her mouth to him. Her insides clenched pleasantly, a hug from the inside out. His mouth was magic, making everything outside them cease to exist.

Her hands found his shoulders, firm and solid under her palms. Greedy, they skimmed upward and sank into the softness of his hair.

He pulled her closer, and her heart took flight. He was right. She'd been fighting this for weeks. She never would have made it this long had she known how it would feel. How
he
would feel. She could happily stay here for the rest of her life.

The rest of your life?

She shut down the voice. She couldn't stop now. It felt so good. So right. Beau was a good man. He was strong, capable, reliable, and,
let's be honest
, so deliciously attractive. She deserved this, didn't she? She'd been through so much, and it was just one little kiss.

One little kiss?

Okay, maybe there were feelings too. Maybe he'd gotten under her skin just a bit. Maybe she wished this never had to end.

Whoa. You're leaving, Eden. Remember?

She wasn't sure who'd given her brain permission to speak, but it was too late now. It was making some good points. Points even her swooning heart couldn't ignore. She lowered her hands, slowly, reluctantly, to his shoulders.

“Beau . . . wait.”

His mouth moved over hers one last time, and she wrung every last drop of satisfaction from his lips before pulling away.

“Wait.” Her eyes opened, sweeping over his face.

His breath was ragged, and those eyes . . . dark and lidded. His lips . . . damp and swollen.

Was it too late to say,
Never mind
?

She closed her eyes against the visual assault.
Think. With your brain. Repeat after me: “This can't happen.”

“What's wrong?”

Beau's unsteady breath mingled with Kate's. Her eyes were closed, and a tiny frown huddled between her eyebrows. Her lips were pink and lush, and he couldn't stop his thumb from sweeping across them.

She trembled as a shiver passed through her, and her fingers tightened on his arms.

“I can't do this.” She opened her eyes. “I can't do this, Beau.”

“Why not?”

“This can't . . . go anywhere. I'll be leaving soon and—”

“So don't. Don't go.”

She pushed away, and his arms fell. “I have to. It won't be safe here forever.”

He wanted to tell her he was going to change that. But she'd freak out if she knew Sheriff Colton was reporting to the feds all that Eden had told him.

“Where you going to go, Kate?”

“There's a place—it's best if you don't know where. We'll be safe there.”

“Safer than here? Are you trained with a gun? Is there a family there to look out for you? A community that has your back?”

She took a step back. “I'm endangering all of you just by being here.”

“I'm trained for danger. I won't let anything happen.”

Something flickered in her eyes, something he didn't like. Then she blinked and the look was gone.

She was feeling guilty. Maybe thinking of running. And if she ran in the middle of the night, she'd be lost to him for good and in more danger than ever.

“Promise me you won't leave without telling me.”

“I'm not planning on it.”

That wasn't the answer he needed. His eyes pierced hers. “Promise me.”

The furrows between her brows deepened as she took a step back. “I can't do that. I don't know what's going to happen. I'll do whatever's best for Jack and me. That's the only promise I can make.”

She lifted her chin, and he knew that was the best he was going to get. Looked like he'd be sleeping on the sofa for a while.

She took another step back. “I think I'll turn in early.”

“Kate . . .”

She met his gaze, and he melted at the tragic look in her eyes. He wanted to take her in his arms, just to hold her. But he knew his touch wouldn't be welcome.

“We have to be more careful,” she said. “I don't have the time or energy for a broken heart.”

He felt a squeeze in his chest. “I wasn't planning to break your heart, Kate.”

Her eyes fell to the floor before rising back to his. “Nobody ever does.”

A fist tightened in his gut as he watched her retreat. He stood there for a long time, her words hitting hard, sinking deep. She'd been let down by a lot of people, and his name wasn't going to be added to the list.

Chapter 30

T
he next night they enjoyed Christmas Eve dinner together. Eden felt privileged to be included in the poignant moment as the family paid tribute to Mary Callahan. Today was the twelfth anniversary of her death. There were tears and laughter around the table as Zac and Beau shared stories, remembering both their mother and their father.

Miss Trudy had done most of the cooking, and the food was delicious. Her leg was healing quickly. Early next week she'd get her brace off, and then what?

The candlelight Christmas Eve service came next. Beau was like glue at her side. He followed her into the pew, taking the aisle, his body alert, his eyes scanning the crowd.

The sanctuary was beautiful tonight, aglow in white twinkling lights, red tapers flickering on the altar. A manger scene was front and center on the stage, the hay rustling under the lazy whir of the ceiling fans.

The building burgeoned with friends and neighbors, and their pew was tight with family. Beau's arm pressed into her shoulder, his thigh whisper close. She'd relived last night's kiss until it was
engrained in her mind. Every brush, every touch, every heartbeat. She'd lain awake for hours remembering, savoring.

This morning she'd met his eyes across the table and had seen a reflection of her every thought. But just as quickly, she shut down the moment. The feelings were there, yes. But she had to push them down, for both their sakes. He made her forget that she was on the run. And even if she weren't, the freedom she sought wouldn't be found under the umbrella of any man. Not even Beau Callahan.