He frowned. “You don’t have to buy me off. I’m leaving now.”
She shook her head. “Take it.” Her sunlit green eyes watched him above her spray of freckles and determined mouth. “It’s yours.”
He held her gaze for a moment, fighting a surge of the thing he’d tried to bury concerning Riley Madigan. He took the bollen from her without a word.
She rolled up her window and backed out of her space, then drove away.
Riley’s doorbell rang at three. She wrung her hands as she approached the front door. Despite the awfulness at the memorial and what came after, Mark had kept his word in helping her with the house. And after this morning, she knew he was willing to be civil and show that they could move on with their lives despite the rumor mill in this small town, or maybe because of it. And now he was coming to see the nativity, unaware she’d finished it the night before.
Her bare feet padded on the satiny wood floor. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, then pulled it open, shivering from the rush of cold air.
Mark quickly stepped inside so she could close the door, glancing at the giant fresh fir wreath with the big red bow on her door as he did so. He pulled off his hat as if that’s what he always did when he entered a house.
Her brow lifted. “You got a haircut.”
He nervously ran a hand over his scars. “Steph did it.”
“She did a great job.” It was no lie. The smooth lines of the cut accentuated the angular planes of his face, his eyes, and the softness of his mouth.
His smile revealed relief. “Thanks.”
After another awkward pause, they spoke over one another.
“I’ll take your coat—”
“I wasn’t sure if I should—”
They stopped again. How had they come to this? Unable to make decent conversation? Oh, right. Because she was an idiot.
“The nativity figures are in the art room,” she said. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you back there in a couple minutes.” This was her plan. To let him view them alone first.
He nodded and headed to the art room.
In all honesty, she was chickening out. She’d fretted all day over what he’d think of the nativity figures now that they were done, and she didn’t want to be there when he first laid eyes on them. It might have been ridiculous, but wasn’t she a coward, anyway? Isn’t this what she did?
She sat down on the couch and rearranged some books on the new coffee table she’d found at one of the thrift stores in Wenatchee. Her mother had suggested she get one for the front room, but Riley doubted her mother meant the multicolored tramp-art piece that complemented her green couch. Her eyes lifted to the paintings on the wall, the middle one in particular, and she realized something. The thing that made her grandma’s house feel like home wasn’t the house. It wasn’t Montana. It wasn’t even Christmas.
It was her grandma.
And she’d felt her grandma in this house right here in Miracle Creek.
It was people who had the potential to make a house feel like a home, no matter where it was or what time of year.
Had her parents been that lousy at it? Had she? All this time? She suddenly felt very drained.
After a couple of minutes, Riley stood. She listened for any sound coming from the art room as she warily made her way back. She hesitated at the partially opened door, then knocked quietly and pushed the door open.
Mark turned, his posture straight, his hands in his pockets. He watched her approach even as her gaze bounced between him and the figures leaning against the closet doors, the baby Jesus figure still on her easel.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, she opened her mouth to ask him what he thought, but he put his finger to his lips, and she stilled. He held out his hand, and she took it, a touch she didn’t deserve. He pulled her to him until they stood shoulder to shoulder. She closed her eyes, not wanting to be this close to him, missing being this close to him.
“Thank you, Riley.”
A shiver slid down her spine at the gentle timbre of his voice. She opened her eyes. “Thanks for asking me.”
He scrutinized her as if he were about to ask her a question, but she didn’t feel up to answering anything.
“Shall I keep them here until you’re ready to give them to Cal?” she asked, heading him off.
He let go of her fingers and folded his arms in front of him. “Yeah, that would be great, as long as you don’t need this space.”
“It’s not a problem. I’ve gotten used to having them around.”
He nodded, watching her curiously. “Well, I better get going.” He followed her out of the room and back to the front door.
“They really are incredible, Riley. More than I hoped for.”
“I’m glad you like them. Just let me know when you want to pick them up.”
He placed his hat back on his head and nodded. Then he was gone.
She thought she’d been so careful with everything and everyone. Not just here. All of her adult life. She’d had to be. Because every time she let her guard down, every time she trusted someone, it ended in disaster. She’d obeyed her rules with Gavin, heck even with Dalton. Look where that got her. And Mark had come in around a side door. A door she didn’t even know she had.
Ha.
When had her rules ever applied to Mark?
The sound of his truck fading down her street left her standing at the window, wishing he hadn’t had to go. Wishing she could have shared more about finishing the nativity. Wishing he would have kept her hand a little longer. Wishing she’d had a reason to make him stay.
Mark stood next to his dad and Yvette, no easy feat
