She nodded and took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Nice,” she murmured. “I can taste the cinnamon and something different in here. Nutmeg or cloves, maybe?”
He gazed at her pensively. Her tone was pleasant, but he sensed that something was off. She seemed more subdued…maybe even a little sad…
She took another sip, and when she looked across at him, her brows tilted as she waited for his reply; he couldn’t help smiling at the puff of melting marshmallow on the tip of her nose.
She cocked her head at him, and he felt something undeniably sweet tingling through him.
Something dangerous…
Yet some other force made him lean toward her, his hand ready to—
And then she became aware of the white puff and wiped it off herself with a nearby tissue.
He leaned back again, not sure if he felt relief or regret. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and wondered what she was going to do once she got back to Winter’s Haven.
“What are your plans today?” he said casually. “Will your son be back?”
Her head shot up, and the look she gave him made him realize that he had ventured into private territory, territory that she was very protective of…
Of course. She was the mama bear, and naturally, she would be vigilant over her little one. And of their privacy, as well. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” he said gently.
Her features relaxed. “It’s all right. For a moment I forgot about your connection to Casson and that he had told you about Andy…”
And about his remarkable mother. “Yes, and what a brave little boy he is…”
Ronnie’s eyes misted. Damn, he didn’t mean to make her emotional. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she put up a hand.
“I’ll be okay.” She sighed. “There are days when I can think or talk about what he’s been through and not fall apart.” She pressed her fingertips against her closed eyelids for a moment. “And then the slightest words or memory will—” Her words caught in her throat, and she looked at him and shook her head. “It’s been hard. Really hard.” She swallowed. “On both of us. And scary, worrying every day about the future…” She shook her head. “No, it hasn’t just been hard. It’s been hell…” A few tears slid down her cheeks.
“Falling apart is okay, Ronnie,” he said gently. He wanted to reach out, wipe her tears, put a comforting arm around her, but something held him back. “It’s good to get your feelings out. That’s part of the healing process.” He gave a slight grimace. “I’m sorry. You’ve probably heard this all before.”
“I have,” she said, nodding. “But it doesn’t hurt to hear it again.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “It’s amazing what some people say to you, though, like ‘You have to be strong.’ If I had a dollar for every time that was said to me…” She bit her lip. “I know people were just trying to help. It’s just that sometimes hearing those words really got to me. I knew I had to be strong. Nobody had to tell me.” She traced a finger over the rim of her mug several times while her forehead creased. Red wondered what memories she was revisiting.
Suddenly she set down the mug, her gaze riveting back to Red. “But to answer your question, Andy won’t be back from his dad’s until the end of the week. So my plans are to keep unpacking—not everything, though, since I’ll be looking for my own place in the spring. How about you?”
“Me? I’ll probably continue working on some of my renovation ideas. This place is in great shape, but I’d like to make a few changes, if I can. Maybe replace some of the wallpaper. Since it’s a heritage home, there are laws as to what can or can’t be done.”
Ronnie nodded. “There must be a lot of fascinating nooks and crannies in a place like this.” She looked around appreciatively.
“I’d be happy to show you around,” Red offered.
“Thanks, but I think we should head out,” she said. “I really have a lot to do still.”
“No problem,” he said, rising. “Maybe another time,” he added impulsively. “And—” He stopped himself. What was he doing? He had almost said “And bring Andy too.”
He shouldn’t have even suggested that there might be “another time” to Ronnie. Much as he had enjoyed her company—maybe too much, especially when she was in his arms—he had to remember that she had a child. A sweet little boy. And that’s why he had to stay away. Or make sure they stayed away. He couldn’t risk getting to know another boy who wasn’t his. And although he probably couldn’t avoid them at the opening of Franklin’s Resort, there was no reason why he would be seeking Ronnie’s company otherwise…
She was looking at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “And…good luck with your unpacking,” he said brusquely.
Moments later, as he drove out of his neighborhood, Red sensed a different dynamic between them. He and Ronnie had been in each other’s company for less than twenty-four hours, and yet he found himself experiencing the anticipatory awkwardness of saying goodbye.
Was she feeling something similar? She had been subdued since getting into his truck. But then again, she was probably missing her son.
He turned on the radio. Might as well liven up the atmosphere… He switched a few channels, and settled on the classic rock channel. He couldn’t help singing along to some of the catchy tunes, and several times, he caught Ronnie’s amused glances in his direction. When one of his favorite songs came on, “Small Town” by John Cougar Mellencamp, he got through the entire song, and at the final harmonica segment, he whistled along.
As Red turned into the winding road on the final stretch to Winter’s Haven, Ronnie gave him directions to her cottage. He slowed down even more, conscious of the intermittent patches of ice on the path flanked
