The Scrooge Of Loon Lake. Carrie Nichols
effort to salvage their relationship, he showed her the horse farm he’d stumbled across and had admired while visiting Riley Cooper in Loon Lake. Stupidly, he had thought maybe the beautiful family home and the prospect of having room for horses would appeal to her. At one time she’d claimed to be a horse lover, but she’d taken one look and said she hadn’t signed on to live in small-town Vermont. The place wasn’t even on Google Maps for heaven’s sake. She’d thought after a career in the navy, he’d work for a major carrier, they’d live in a metropolitan area and would take advantage of all of the travel perks. Yeah, she’d had their future all planned out, except he wasn’t sure where his wishes fit in.
Going into the house he’d gone ahead and purchased after their final split, he set the plate of cookies on the counter and slipped another one off the stack. He had a crazy thought that he would never confess under the threat of torture, but he swore he could taste the love Natalie put into her baking. He suspected she put her heart into everything she did. Sam, with his big grin, was proof of that. A woman like Natalie deserved someone who had a heart.
He glanced around at his state-of-the-art kitchen with its stainless-steel appliances, granite countertops and the off-white cabinets with glass inserts on the upper doors. The kitchen had been remodeled by the previous owner. When he and Ashley had toured the house, he’d figured the updated kitchen would be another point in his favor, but like everything else it had gone bust. So for the past three years, he’d rattled around in the immaculate kitchen using the refrigerator, microwave and coffeemaker.
Too bad he had nothing more than a dream kitchen to give a woman like Natalie.
Des set the pliers back down. His new piece had stalled and it had nothing to do with the fact that Natalie hadn’t returned for two days. Two days and no cookies, no pleas for him to make something for her auction. He’d listened for the sound of a car but all he heard was the silence. Silence was why he’d chosen this place. He liked silence. Huh, he and Sam would get along fine. It sure beat her chattering nonsense.
And he didn’t care if Natalie’s blue eyes reminded him of the adrenaline rush he’d gotten—and missed—when successfully landing his jet on the rolling deck of a carrier. He would’ve sworn there was nothing in the world to compete with going from one hundred and fifty miles an hour to nothing in the two seconds it took for the arresting wires to do their job. But looking into those clear eyes… He shook his head to shake some sense into it. What was he doing thinking that way about this woman? Hadn’t he learned his lesson? First his mother, then Ashley. How long would it take for Natalie to see the flaws in him?
His mother still lived in Colorado, in the bungalow he’d grown up in. Although he dutifully called on a regular basis to see if she needed anything, the answer was always no. But he called anyway, just as he’d contacted the man who’d fathered him and been rebuffed. So he lived half a continent away and used his acres as a buffer between him and the rest of the world.
Disgusted with his unproductive thoughts, he got up and put another log into the woodstove in the corner of his work area. They’d had some unusually warm days at the end of November, a truly long autumn, but December had come, bringing much colder temperatures.
Back at his workbench, he held up the piece he’d cut this morning when he’d first come to his workroom. The curve of the glass still wasn’t to his exacting standards. He’d have to redo it. Again. Maybe he should abandon adding the loon—except he’d gotten the idea the day Natalie had barged into his barn.
I follow through on my promises. Natalie’s words, in that lilting, slightly husky voice, taunted him as he worked.
Yeah, right. Forty-eight hours and she hadn’t been back. He tossed the piece of incorrectly cut glass into the box that held rejects. Those could be recycled and used another time. The pile had grown since yesterday, but he could use them in a future glass sculpture. Yeah, that was putting a good spin on the situation. He barely knew this woman and her absence for two days didn’t give him the right to mope.
I’m a champion of lost causes. A regular St. Jude.
Maybe he was one lost cause too many. Maybe Natalie saw the same thing in him that his mother did so that no matter what he’d accomplished, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough because he wasn’t his half brother. Though he and Patrick shared the same mother, they had different fathers. He chose another piece of glass, determined to get this one right. His muse had returned and he wasn’t going to let a couple of mistakes stop him. He’d—
A car door slammed in the distance. He started to rise from the stool he’d been perched on but forced himself to sit back down. What is wrong with you, Gallagher? He ground his back teeth, but deep down he enjoyed sparring with Natalie, enjoyed being the kind of guy who could attract a wholesome single mother, even if that was temporarily. Even if it was because she wanted something from him.
“Hello? Lieutenant?”
His heart thudded at the sound of her voice and he scowled, angered by his reaction. Making a fool of himself was not on today’s agenda.
She appeared around the corner, her straight, blond hair billowing out behind her as if she were a model at a photo shoot. Once again she carried a tin in one hand and had a tight grip on Sam’s hand with the other. The boy’s bright blue eyes danced above ruddy cheeks as he held up a fistful of colorful candy canes and grinned. Des shifted in his seat and his throat clogged up with emotions at the sight of Natalie and her winsome son.
“Boy, it’s windy today. Don’t you think so?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Sorry we’re late but we stopped at the store and well, you know how Tavie is. Talked our ears off, didn’t she, Sam? Anyway, that’s why we’re so late today. Have you wondered where we were?”
Only for two freaking days. “No.”
She stepped farther into the barn. “Sam’s pediatric neurologist wanted a colleague to exam him, so we drove to Montpelier.”
“What’s there to do for two days in the state capital?” Damn. He hadn’t meant to ask that and he detested the thread of need evident in his voice. What was that about not making a fool of himself?
“You’d be surprised at how much there is to do.” She gave him a blinding smile. “Maybe you should check it out.”
“Humph.”
“Grumpy again today? Maybe these will help.” She set the tin on the bench. “I made you my special homemade minty shortbread cookies dipped in chocolate and topped with sprinkles. Sam put the Christmas sprinkles on them, didn’t you, Sam?”
The boy grinned and nodded his head and Des bit back the snark that threatened to roll off his tongue. It wasn’t Sam’s fault he was such a dumbass around the boy’s mother.
“Huh, maybe I should’ve asked if you liked mint before I inundated you with it, but I see you ate all the bark, so I guess that answers that.”
She opened the tin and the scents of peppermint and chocolate wafted out. The green cookies were partially coated with chocolate and red, white and green sprinkles on top of that. They looked delicious, but Des scowled at them, refusing to be coaxed out of his mood by her or her baked goods.
“Problem?” Her gaze flicked between him and the cookies.
He fisted his hands to keep from reaching out and caressing her cute little frown. Or better yet, running his tongue over those furrows in her forehead. He swallowed a groan. “If I keep eating what you bring, I’m going to end up as a carnival sideshow.”
She broke into a wide, candid smile, transforming her from attractive to unforgettable. “Didn’t you get the memo? Calories don’t count in December.”
He grumbled but grabbed a cookie and took a bite, closing his eyes as butter, mint and chocolate exploded in his mouth. These were the best yet. No doubt left, he was