A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(38)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I can take care of myself.”

“He has a lot of family here.”

“So do you. And I’ve managed to get by in spite of all of them.”

“Dealing with my family doesn’t qualify you to take on the world.”

“Tell me something,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“If you could have anything you want for Christmas, what would it be? A new stallion?”

He couldn’t answer that without revealing too much. The only thing he seemed to want this Christmas was another night with her. “I don’t know. What about you?”

“I’m happy with my tree.”

He grinned—and loved the smile she gave him in return.

“Will you help me decorate it?”

Mike told himself he’d be a fool to stay any longer. He probably shouldn’t have come here in the first place. But helping her with the tree seemed so innocuous. What was another hour or two?

LUCKY DIDN’T HAVE a stereo, so Mike went home to get a boom box. He said the people in the office had been listening to Christmas music for weeks and proved it by bringing over several holiday CDs, which he put on while they worked. He cursed when a strand of lights he’d weaved through the topmost branches wouldn’t turn on, which meant he’d have to take them all off, but when Lucky laughed at him, he started laughing, too.

“And this’s supposed to be fun?” he grumbled.

Lucky was having fun. Mike had acted pretty cautious and self-contained at first, but as the minutes passed and they talked about everything from the ranch and his horses to the annual rodeo, he seemed to relax.

“You want the silver balls to go on the tree, too?” he asked.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him they didn’t match. “Sure,” she said and they loaded the tree with everything in the box. The angel that went on top had a beautiful porcelain face and slowly moved, waving two little lights in her tiny hands.

When they sat on the floor together an hour later, admiring their efforts, she glanced over at him. “Are you hungry?”

He checked his watch. She sensed that he was growing wary again and expected him to say something about going home, but he surprised her. “What do you have to eat?”

“I could make a quick pasta.”

“Sure,” he said, “why not?” He followed her to the kitchen, where he stood near the island, talking to her while she cooked.

When it was ready, she lit a couple of candles for the table and sat across from him. He refused a glass of wine, for the second time, but ate two platefuls of pasta. While they ate, Lucky told him about some of the places she’d visited and some of the people she’d met. The conversation remained fairly light until she stood up to carry their dishes to the sink.

“Why didn’t you tell my father about us that day in the hardware store, Lucky?” he asked.

She piled the plates on the counter. “Why would I?”

“Because it’d prove that you’re not what folks think.”

“What do folks think?”

“That you’re exactly like your mother.”

“How will telling them I’ve slept with you change that?” she asked.

“I know you were a virgin.”

“So? You could always deny it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Silence stretched between them, and the scenes from the motel—the memories she’d been trying to ignore all evening—grew more vivid in Lucky’s mind. Earlier, he’d called that night “unforgettable.” She wondered if he was remembering it now. “People around here have known you, looked up to you, all your life,” she said. “They’d be shocked and…and disappointed to learn about the motel.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t lie about it. You know that, don’t you?”

“I won’t use you to build my own credibility.” She started running hot water in the sink. “You’re crazy to even suggest it. What if I were to take you up on the idea?”

“You won’t,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’d have done it by now.”

Their eyes met, and Lucky felt a tremor of excitement and desire pass through her. She’d never purposely do anything that might compromise him, regardless of his family, the past, her own situation. But she didn’t say so. She felt far too vulnerable and exposed already—and feared he was beginning to suspect how deeply she cared. “Thanks for your help with the tree,” she said to cover her weakness for him.

Taking her cue, he stood up and collected his hat.

Lucky wanted him to stay. She suspected he wanted the same thing. But she also knew because of how careful he’d been this evening that he’d already chosen his family. She’d never expected him to choose differently. She even admired his loyalty.

“Dinner was excellent,” he said.

She dried her hands so she could show him out. “You earned it.”

When they reached the front door, she turned on the porch light so he could see, but he flipped it off again. Then he pulled her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips before he left.

Apparently he’d decided to allow himself one more concession.

DURING THE NEXT TWO DAYS, Lucky did her Christmas shopping in Boise and overnighted the Lego sets she’d bought for her three nephews, the softball glove and slider she’d bought for her oldest niece and the Barbies she’d bought for Trisha, Sean’s five-year-old daughter. Mr. Sharp made noticeable progress on the house, too. Lucky told herself everything was going well. But that wasn’t completely true. She hadn’t heard from Mike since they’d decorated her tree. And she was finding it difficult to get close to any of the men who might be her father, so difficult that she’d started toying with the idea of calling Garth Holbrook at his office. From what she could tell, he seemed like a decent man. If they could have a private conversation, she’d ask him if he’d be willing to take a paternity test.

Lucky went through every approach she could imagine before actually picking up the phone.

The worst he can say is no, she reminded herself. “No” wouldn’t make a big impact on her life. She’d never had a father before; “no” simply meant nothing would change. If he refused, or his DNA sample didn’t match, she’d approach Dave Small. If Dave refused or his sample didn’t match, she’d put more effort into tracking down Eugene Thompson. It was a straightforward process of elimination, right?