Kisses on Her Christmas List Page 3

  “By default. I was perfectly happy to work with the buyers and in advertising for Raleigh’s. But my dad wanted to retire and I’m an only child.” She paused then smiled at him. “I see you also ended up in your dad’s job.”

  Rory tilted his head, studying her. Her smile was pretty, genuine. Not flirtatious and certainly not enough to get his hormones going, but an odd tingle took up residence in his stomach. “Yeah. I did. Who would have thought ten years ago that we’d be running the two businesses we always talked about while I waited for Natalie for our dates?”

  “Well, you were a shoo-in for your job. You’re the oldest son of a family that owns a business. I thought I was going to be a lawyer. Turns out law school is really, really dull.”

  He laughed again, then realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed twice, back-to-back, in the same night. Warmth curled through him. Not like arousal from flirting. Not like happiness, but something else. Something richer. Not only was Shannon Raleigh a knockout and good with kids, but she was also easy to talk to—

  Good grief. This strange feeling he was having was attraction. Real attraction. The next step beyond the hormone-driven reaction he had when he saw her in the little red dress.

  Damn it. He was here to look at her family’s store to see if it was an appropriate investment for his family. He couldn’t be attracted to her. Not just that, but he was already a loser at love. He’d given in to the fun of flirting once. He’d let himself become vulnerable. Hell, he’d let himself tumble head over heels for someone, and he knew how that had turned out—with her leaving him on Christmas day two years ago, and all but deserting their daughter.

  When he’d finally found her and asked about visitation, she’d told him she didn’t want to see Finley. Ever. Hoping that she’d change her mind in the two years that had passed, he’d run out of excuses to give Finley for missed birthdays and holidays. Pretty soon he was going to have to tell a six-year-old girl that her mother didn’t want her.

  That broke his heart. Shattered it into a million painful pieces. Made him want to shake his ex-wife silly.

  Which was why he’d never marry again. At this point in his life he wasn’t even sure he’d date again.

  He rose from the sofa. “You know what? I’m tired, too. I’m going to have to figure out how to get my car from the interstate in the morning and I’m guessing for that I’m going to need a good night’s sleep.” He gave her a warm smile. “Thanks again for letting us stay.”

  With that he turned and all but raced toward the door, but he didn’t get three steps before Shannon stopped him. “Rory?”

  He turned.

  She pointed at the sleeping bag rolled up at by the door. “You might want to take that.”

  He sucked in a breath. The whole point of coming into the room had been to get his sleeping bag. Two minutes in her company and he’d forgotten that. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He scooped the sleeping bag from the floor. He hadn’t been this foolish around a woman in years.

  He was glad he was leaving in the morning.

  Shannon was awakened by the feeling of soft breath puffing in her face. She batted at it only to have her hand meet something solid.

  Finley yelled, “Ouch!”

  Shannon bolted up on the couch as several things popped into her head at once. First, she was sleeping in her living room. Second, she had company. Third, Finley was not the nicest child in the world. But, the all-important fourth, she would be alone with a child until Rory woke up.

  “I’m hungry.” Finley’s tiny face scrunched. Her nose became a wrinkled button. Her mouth pulled down in an upside-down U.

  Shannon pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Which heartened her. Because Finley was forceful and demanding, not a cute little cuddle bug, it was easier for Shannon to deal with being around her.

  She rolled out of her sleeping bag. Her friends had complained about being awakened by their children at ungodly hours. But a glance at the wall clock told her it was after eight. She couldn’t fault Finley for waking her. It might be Saturday, but she still had to be at the store by ten to open it.

  Fortunately, she had enough time to make something to eat. “Well, I enjoy cooking breakfast so it looks like we’re both lucky this morning.”

  That confused Finley so much that her frown wobbled.

  Laughing, Shannon ruffled her hair. “Which do you prefer pancakes or waffles?”

  “Do you have blueberries?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’d like pancakes.”

  Shannon headed for the kitchen. “You and I are going to get along very well.”

  As she pulled the ingredients for pancakes from the cupboards, Finley took a seat at the table. Before she started to make the batter, Shannon picked up the remote for her stereo and turned it on. A rousing rendition of “Here Comes Santa Claus” poured into the room.

  “Would you like a glass of milk?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Shannon dipped into her refrigerator as Finley slid off her seat. Watching Finley walk to the counter, she grabbed the gallon of milk and pulled it out of the fridge. But before she could reach the counter, Finley had picked up the remote and turned off the music.

  She blinked. “I was listening to that.”

  “It was stupid.”

  “It was a Christmas song.”

  “And Christmas is stupid.”

  Shannon gaped at her. Not just because she had the audacity to turn off the music without asking, but that was the second time she’d mentioned she didn’t like Christmas.

  The temptation was strong to ask why, as she poured Finley a glass of milk, but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. Did she say, Hey, kid, everybody likes Christmas. You get gifts. You get cookies. What’s the deal?

  As curious as she was, that seemed a lot like interfering and she was just getting accustomed to being around a child. She wasn’t ready for deep, personal interaction yet. Plus, saying she hated Christmas could just be a part of one of Finley the Diva’s tantrums. Or a way to manipulate people.

  So, she turned to the counter and began preparing pancakes. A happy hum started in her throat and worked its way out, surprising her. Breakfast was one of the few meals she was well versed in. She could make a pancake or a waffle with the best of them. But it was a happy surprise to be able to be in the same room with Finley without worrying that she’d fall apart or dwell on her inability to have kids herself.

  “So where do you go to school?”

  “Winchester Academy.”

  “Is that a private school?”

  Finley nodded.

  “Do you like school?”

  “Sometimes. Artie Regan brings frogs and scares me. And Jenny Logan beats me to the swing.”

  A motherly warmth flowed through her. When she wasn’t demanding her own way, Finley was normal. And here she was handling her. Talking to her. No flutters of panic. No feeling sorry for herself.

  The kitchen door opened and Rory walked into the room yawning. “Sorry about that.”

  “About what?” Shannon faced him with a smile, but the smile disappeared as her mouth went dry.

  His dark hair was sticking out in all directions. His eyes didn’t seem to want to open. A day-old growth of beard sexily shadowed his chin and cheeks. He wore a white undershirt and navy blue sweats that loosely clung to his lean hips.

  “About sleeping in. Normally, I’m up—” He paused. “Are you making pancakes?”

  “Blueberry.”

  “Wow. We should get stranded on an interstate more often.”

  She laughed. Laughed.She had a sexy man and a cute little girl in her kitchen and she wasn’t stuttering or shattering, she was laughing.

  But a little warning tweaked her brain. Not only was she enjoying this way too much, but it also would be over soon. They’d eat breakfast, pack up the few things they’d brought with them and head out.

  She had about twenty minutes o
ver breakfast before she’d be alone again.

  Rory ambled to the counter, where the coffeemaker sputtered the last drops of fresh coffee into the pot. “Can I get you a cup?”

  “That’d be great, thanks. Mugs are in the cupboard by the sink.”

  But as he reached into the cupboard to get the mugs, his arm stopped. “Holy cats!”

  Shannon paused her spoon in the pancake batter. “What?”

  “There’s got to be two feet of snow out there.”

  “That was the eventual predication after we already had eighteen inches.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t look like the snowplow went through.”

  She dropped the spoon, hustled to the window beside him. “Wow.”

  He turned and caught her gaze. “Even with that big SUV I saw in the driveway, I’ll bet you can’t get us out to a main road.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat. Could they actually be forced to stay another day? Could she handle another day?

  The answer came swiftly, without hesitation. She couldn’t just handle another day; she wantedanother day.

  “With all that snow, I’m not sure the main roads are even clear.”

  “I’ll check the internet.”

  “If the roads are still closed, you know you’re welcome to stay, right?”

  “I think we may have to take you up on that.”

  Though her heart leaped with anticipation, she pasted a disappointed-for-them look on her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She brightened her expression. “I don’t mind.”

  Rory nudged his head toward Finley, who sat quietly at the kitchen table.

  Lowering her voice, Shannon said, “She’ll be fine.”

  “You want to be the one to tell her?”

  “What do you say we get a pancake into her first?”

  He tapped her nose. “Excellent idea.”

  The friendly tap shouldn’t have made Shannon’s heart race, but it did. She pivoted away from him and returned to her pancake batter. They were staying another day as guests. Friends. Nothing more. But being friends meant no stress. No pressure. They could have a good time.

  A good time, instead of a lonely, boring weekend.

  Who would have thought the day before, when she’d stood trembling with fear over playing Santa’s helper, that today she’d welcome having a little girl spend the day with her?

  She ladled batter onto the already warm grill and within minutes the sweet scent of pancakes filled the air.

  As she piled pancakes on three plates, Rory found the maple syrup and took the pot of coffee to the table.

  Finley eagerly grabbed her plate from Shannon. Without as much as a blink from her dad, she said, “Thank you.”

  Shannon’s heart tweaked again. She glanced from happy Finley to relieved Rory. They had no idea how much their presence meant to her. Worse, they probably didn’t realize she was actually glad the snowplow hadn’t yet gone through. Their misery changed her incredibly lonely, probably bordering-toward-pathetic weekend into time with other people. Company for dinner the night before. Someone to make pancakes for. People who would eat lunch and maybe dinner with her.

  And maybe even someone to bake sugar cookies with? A little girl who’d paint them with her child’s hand, giving them strokes and color and even mistakes only a child could make. Turning them into real Christmas cookies.

  Rory pointed at his pancake. “These are great.”

  Finley nodded in agreement. “These are great.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rory laughed and caught her gaze. “Thought you said you couldn’t cook?”

  Her heart stuttered a bit. Not because he was paying attention to her, but because his dark eyes were filled with warmth and happiness. Casual happiness. The kind of happiness real friends shared. “I can’t, except for breakfast. But breakfast foods are usually easy.”

  Turning his attention back to his plate, he said, “Well, these are delicious.”

  Warmth filled her. Contentment. She gave herself a moment to soak it all in before she reached for her fork and tasted her own pancake.

  Picking up his coffee cup, Rory said, “I can’t believe how much snow fell.”

  “It is Pennsylvania.”

  “How do you deal with it?”

  “Well, on days like this, those of us who can stay in.”

  “You play games maybe?”

  Ah, she got what he was doing. He was paving the way to tell Finley they couldn’t leave. Probably hoping to show her she’d have a good day if they stayed.

  “We do. We play lots of games. But we also bake cookies.”

  Finley didn’t even glance up. Happily involved in her blueberry pancake, she ignored them.

  Rory said, “I love cookies.”

  “These are special cookies. They’re sugar cookies that I cut into shapes and then paint.”

  “Paint?”

  “With icing. I put colored icing on houses, churches, bells—”

  Finley glanced up sharply. “You mean Christmas bells.”

  Shannon winced. “Well, yes. I’m baking cookies for my family when we celebrate Christmas next week. But it’s still fun—”

  “I hate Christmas!”

  This was the third time Finley had said she hated Christmas. It wasn’t merely part of a tantrum or even a way to manipulate people. This little girl really didn’t like Christmas.

  “Okay. So instead of baking cookies, how about if we play cards?”

  “I thought we were leaving.”

  Rory set his hand on top of Finley’s. “I’d like to leave. But I have to check to see if the roads are open. There’s a good possibility that we’re stranded here for another few hours, maybe even another day.”

  Finley sighed heavily, like a billion-dollar heiress who’d just received bad news, and who would, at any second, explode. Shannon found herself holding her breath, waiting for Finley’s reply. Which was ridiculous. The kid was six. The weather wasn’t anybody’s fault. She was stuck and that was that.

  Setting her fork on her plate, Shannon rose and said, “While I go to my room to check on the roads and call my staff, you drink your milk and finish your break fast. Then we’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher and we’ll play Go Fish.”

  Finley’s eyes narrowed and her mouth formed the upside-down Uagain. But Shannon ignored her. From her peripheral vision she watched Finley glare at her dad.

  Without looking at her, Rory said, “I haven’t played Go Fish in years. I’m not sure I remember the rules.”

  “It’s an easy game, Daddy.”

  “Good. Then I should catch on quickly.”

  Shannon took her plate to the sink. “Or maybe she’ll beat you.”

  That brought a light to Finley’s eyes. When Shannon returned from checking the road conditions on the internet, calling her staff to say she wasn’t opening the store and calling the radio stations to alert the community that the store would be closed again, she returned to the kitchen. Finley eagerly helped clear the table, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and rifled through a kitchen drawer for a deck of cards.

  “I had to close the store.”

  Rory held up his cell phone. “I figured. I checked the road conditions. Nothing’s really open. Customers can’t get there anyway.”

  As Finley approached the table with the cards, Shannon said, “So we’ll have some fun.”

  Pulling a chair away from the round kitchen table, Rory said, “Yes, we will. Right, Finley?”

  Finley sighed and shrugged, but also pulled out a chair and sat.

  Shannon noticed that Rory more or less let Finley win the first game, so she went along, too. But when Rory handily won the second game, Shannon didn’t think it was out of line to play the third game without deference to Finley. But when she won, Finley exploded.

  “You cheated!”

  Shannon laughed. “No. Cheating takes all the sport out of a game. The
re’s no fun in winning if you haven’t really won.”

  “I don’t care!” She swung her arm across the table, sending cards flying. But before her hand could slow down, she also thwacked her milk. The glass went airborne and landed on the floor. Sticky white milk poured everywhere.

  Mortally embarrassed by Finley’s outburst, Rory bounced from the table. “Finley!”

  Finley bounced off her chair and raced to the kitchen door. “I hate you!”

  The swinging door slammed closed when she flew through it.

  Shannon rose and grabbed the paper towels. “Sorry. I should have let her win again.”

  Rory rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No. We were playing a game. She knows she can’t win every time.” He rubbed his neck again. He’d only ever told his parents about the trouble in his marriage and he certainly hadn’t intended to tell Shannon because, technically, they didn’t really know each other. But deep down Finley was a sweet little girl who deserved defending.

  He fell to his seat again. “Finley’s behavior isn’t the fault of a confused six-year-old, but a mom who abandoned her.”

  Using a paper towel to sop up the milk, Shannon said, “What?”

  “Her mom,” Rory said, not quite sure how to broach this subject because he hadn’t spoken with anyone about his ex. So he had no practice, no frame of reference for what to say.

  He lifted his eyes until he could catch Shannon’s gaze. “Finley’s mom left us two years ago on Christmas day.”

  Shannon took the wet paper towels to the trash. Confusion laced her voice when she said, “Your ex left you on Christmas day?”

  “Yeah, that’s why Finley’s sensitive about Christmas. But what’s worse is that her mom doesn’t want to see her at all. She doesn’t like kids. Didn’t want kids.”

  Shannon returned to the table and fell to her chair, trying to force all that to sink in but not quite able to comprehend. She’d spent her entire adult life attempting to get pregnant, longing for a child, and Finley’s mom had left her without a backward glance?

  “My ex never did anything she didn’t want to do.” He rose from the chair, pushed it out of his way and stooped to pick up the scattered cards.