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Nicole shielded her eyes and laughed. “Well, hello there, Erin and Megan. I’m glad you didn’t run me over, too.” Looking at Parker, she said, “You’re their father, I take it?”
“I am.”
“Nice to meet you, Parker-who-is-Megan-and-Erin’s-father.” She put on his coat, which was large enough on her frame to cover her wings, and zipped it to her chin. And darn if that halo of hers didn’t droop a little more, increasing her adorable quotient by two. Or three.
“Likewise.” Waving, he got into the driver’s seat and buckled his seat belt, his interest and curiosity about Nicole already sky-high, and said to his girls, “Okay, no harm and no foul. Let’s get out of the road and into the school, before anything else crazy happens.”
“Yeah. No more crazy stuff!” Megan said. “Just fun stuff!”
In a matter of seconds, the girls were once again talking about the play and the possibility of both of them being angels. As they did, Parker watched Nicole cross to the other side of the street without incident and, even through his closed window, could hear her shouting “Roscoe!”
He grinned at the sight of a disheveled angel searching for her dog, and hoping she’d find him quickly, he turned off the car’s emergency lights and veered into the proper lane. Less than a minute later, they were in the elementary school’s parking lot. The girls were chattering in their normal manner as they left the car, and Parker tossed in a teasing comment or two.
But his thoughts were wholly focused on Nicole Bradshaw and the sizzle of electricity that had sped through his bloodstream as they talked, as he took in her crooked halo and—to him, anyway—ethereal features. He recognized the sizzle well enough, even though years had passed since he’d last experienced the sensation.
Because until just a few minutes ago, Bridget was the only other woman Parker had ever looked at and felt that same pop of awareness, of innate chemistry and bone-deep attraction. It happened on the very first day he set eyes on Bridget Delaney, later to become Bridget Lennox, and every precious day they had together thereafter.
She was the woman he’d loved with every part of his heart and soul. The woman he’d had every intention of creating a long life and growing old with. The woman he still missed and longed for on a consistent, if not daily, basis. His daughters’ mother. His wife. His Bridget.
Frankly, Parker did not know what to think of having the same—and up until now, unique—initial response to Nicole that he’d had with Bridget. But he sure as hell planned on exploring that reaction and discovering if lightning really could strike twice.
Chapter Two (#ued85788d-54f8-5ef8-9f68-f39d93919a6b)
Gosh darn it, where was that dog? Nicole swallowed the thick lump of fear in her throat and called out, “Roscoe! Come here, boy! Want a treat? Here, Roscoe!”
Nothing. Not a bark or a whine or a yelp of happiness.
Trudging forward, her eyes peeled as she yelled Roscoe’s name every few feet, Nicole silently admitted that bringing her dog had been an error in judgment. Oh, he’d done well at the other school events she’d taken him to—a few ball games last spring, right after accepting the music teacher position, and the outdoor fair last month—and he loved children, but she should’ve known better. Her dog had a serious case of wanderlust.
He loved nothing better than running off to explore and always took any chance given to escape. Due to this tendency, Nicole had learned to remain vigilant when she had Roscoe out of the house or her fenced-in backyard. Typically, she could keep his high-energy excitement under control. Tonight, in fact, was the first time in a long while that he’d managed to break free.
And no doubt about it, his getaway was her fault.
They had gone for a quick walk and had returned to the school about fifteen minutes before the tryouts were supposed to start, and no, she had not been paying close enough attention. They were in the auditorium, and she’d just finagled those stupid costume horns on Roscoe’s head. At the exact second she unclipped his leash, the janitor cracked open the outside door. The dog instantly lunged forward, out of her grasp and racing with the wind.
So here she was, anxiously searching for her dog while dressed as an angel, which made her decision to bring Roscoe tonight seem naive. The idea of doing so hadn’t even occurred to her until yesterday, and when she checked in with the school’s principal this morning—who’d met the happy and affectionate Roscoe several times—he’d given his consent.
She’d hoped the sight of her large, funny-looking mixed-breed mutt, with stuffed reindeer horns on his head, would make the kids laugh, helping them to relax and have fun. And if all had actually gone as planned, his presence would’ve provided Nicole with a much-needed surge of confidence and eased her nerves. Mainly because she hadn’t quite found her place in Steamboat Springs yet, or solid footing as the elementary school’s new music teacher.
The position became available only when the prior music teacher, Mrs. Engle, retired after forty years of devoted service. Everyone—the other teachers, the students and the parents—adored Mrs. Engle, and stepping into such beloved shoes was not a simple task. Especially since Mrs. Engle had always been in charge of the school’s music and drama productions.
A responsibility that now fell on Nicole’s shoulders, which was the primary cause for her anxiety. Oh, she’d directed many a recital in the past, while working and living in a suburb of Denver, and would do so again here without blinking an eye. But she’d never taken on the performance of an actual drama, and this one didn’t include so much as a note of music. To add to her nerves, she’d chosen to skip the school’s traditional presentation of the nativity story in favor of a lovely fairy-tale take on Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol.
The kids didn’t know this yet, and since she’d heard a few of her students talking about how they wanted to play Mary, one of the three Wise Men or an angel, she worried they would be disappointed when they learned the roles now up for grabs were fairy-tale characters such as Rumpelstiltskin in place of Ebenezer Scrooge and Pinocchio for Bob Cratchit.
Or they might love the change. Unfortunately, since she wasn’t in the auditorium—where, at this moment, children and parents were waiting for her, likely impatient and wondering if they were wasting their time by sticking around—she wouldn’t know one way or the other until she found her darned dog. And who knew how long that would take?
Nicole hollered Roscoe’s name again, and then again. Still nothing. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered and tried to think rationally. Or, she supposed, like a dog.
Okay. Knowing Roscoe’s proclivity for attention, he could have already made friends with a family who lived in one of these houses, and could now be curled up—exhausted from his mad dash—on someone’s kitchen floor. Oh, Lord. She prayed that was the case. Because the possibility, however remote, of her dog being safe and sound in someone’s home alleviated the sharpest edge of her fears. Roscoe’s dog tags had all of the information anyone would require to locate her, including her name, the veterinarian’s and their individual phone numbers.
Sticking her hands into the pockets of the coat Parker had lent her—the act of an honest-to-God gentleman, by the way—Nicole shivered again and squinted through the snow, which was now falling at a brisker pace. Even with the glow of the streetlights and the houses’ porch lights, the curtain of white made it difficult to see very far in the distance.
“Roscoe!” she yelled as she continued her path along the sidewalk, every step taking her farther away from the school building. “Where are you, boy? Want a treat? Roscoe, come here!”
She stopped, listened and hoped. When her dog did not bound out of the shadows, she continued to walk and shout his name. The wind picked up speed and her halo slipped another inch to the side. Annoyed, she yanked the darned thing off her head and, very likely destroying it beyond repair, bent the halo in half and shoved it into Parker’s coat pocket.
Another bad idea, dressing as an angel.
She’d done so for the same reason she decorated her dog’s head: to help relax the kids and get them into the Christmas spirit, and the only other adult-size holiday costume the school had was for Santa Claus himself. While Nicole had nothing against the jolly old man, she had no desire to stick on a fake beard or wear that many layers of clothing.
Or, well, to be fully honest, the stuffed belly pillow had been what really put her off. Her deepest desire was to become pregnant, and the thought of seeing her stomach big and round due to a freaking pillow and not the baby she so yearned for had almost brought her to tears. Reason enough, right there, to go with the angel costume.
Another type of shiver—one of longing and anticipation—rippled through Nicole’s body. Had the procedure worked? Was she, even now, pregnant? Too soon to know, of course, as it had been only three days since her visit to the Denver fertility clinic for her fourth—and please, Lord, her final—attempt. Though, if she didn’t conceive this month, she’d try again. And she’d keep on trying until she ran out of her harvested eggs, funds or hope.
Whichever of the three came first, but more likely than not, the first.
A year ago, her doctor had hesitantly given her the go-ahead for one round of fertility injections, before her already-compromised ovarian function ceased to exist. It had worked, but she had only a limited number of eggs to work with, which meant she had a limited amount of time to conceive. But she wasn’t about to give up unless she had no other choice.
History had taught her the importance of always moving toward her goals and doing whatever she could to fulfill her wants today. Because tomorrow or next month or two years down the road could be too late. Life offered zero guarantees. Which was why she had gone through a round of fertility injections a year ago, despite the concerns for her health, for the possible danger of the increased hormone levels raising her risk for recurrence.
Risk versus reward. The reward, naturally, was a baby.
And oh, how she yearned to become a mother. Not only was she ready for the commitment, but with everything she’d gone through and the fears she’d faced head-on, she was a stronger woman now than ever before. She loved life. She loved her life.
All she needed to make the world—her world—complete was her child.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Nicole turned to walk in the opposite direction, having no idea which way Roscoe had lumbered off. As far as she knew, if he wasn’t safely ensconced in someone’s house or still running and exploring, he might have returned to the school and was now wandering the parking lot in search of treats, kids to play with and hands to stroke his back. Roscoe soaked in love with the absorbency of a sponge.
In her hurry, she pivoted so fast that she came close to barging into another body—a strong, tall body that belonged to none other than Parker Lennox, the handsome blue-eyed, sandy-blond widower all the teachers raved about—and her feet, which were encased in slippery-soled flats, skidded on the snowy concrete, causing her to lose her balance and topple backward.
Mere seconds before her angel-gowned behind smacked the hard, frozen ground for the second time in less than thirty minutes, Parker grabbed her by the arms and yanked her upright. The sudden change in momentum sent her tumbling forward, directly into his solid—oh, wow, very solid—chest. Strong arms came around her, holding her steady.
Security and well-being stole in, quickly followed by a strange, dizzying sensation of déjà vu. If she believed in such things, she might think that some small part of her, by his touch alone, recognized this man and had, in fact, been waiting for him to arrive in her life. To do what? Make all her dreams come true and supply her with a happily-ever-after ending?
Ha. Now, that would be a fairy tale fit for the stage.
“Tell me,” Parker said, his arms still around her and his voice somewhat amused, “are one-after-another collisions typical for you, Miss Bradshaw? Or am I a special case?”
“Nicole, please.” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, from those out-there, happily-ever-after thoughts. She pulled free from his grasp to stand on her own, but they were still a little too close for comfort. Her comfort. Carefully retreating a few feet, she said, “And it seems you must be a special case, as no, I’m not normally so clumsy.”
“Hmm,” he said, still sounding amused. “I don’t believe I’ve knocked a woman off her feet in thirty-plus years, and now it’s happened twice in one night. Should I be flattered or concerned enough for your safety that I keep a certain distance between us?”
Laughing, she scanned the area for Roscoe and tried to ignore the attraction sizzling in her blood. Hard to do, especially when combined with the security, the stability, she’d experienced while in his arms. Something she absolutely could have used those many days and weeks she’d spent in the hospital, when—between the horrors of chemotherapy and several surgeries—she feared that fate would not grant her another tomorrow, let alone a baby.
Fortunately, she had survived. And four years later, she remained blissfully healthy.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said in response to Parker’s question, “but you shouldn’t feel flattered or concerned. I’ve simply had one of those days. We all have them.”
“That we do.” Tucking his arm into hers, as if he’d done so on numerous occasions in the past, he said, “But since today is one of those days for you, I will feel significantly better if I do everything in my power to see that you don’t fall down again.”
Nicole could have yanked her arm free and insisted she was completely able to walk without his assistance—which, of course, she was—but this time, instead of being smacked over the head with déjà vu, all she felt, from the tips of her toes to the top of her now halo-free head, was the safe, steady balance that Parker seemed to embody. And in a snap, her anxiety over her missing dog and being late at the school diminished to a much more manageable level.
So she allowed their arms to remain linked and said, “I suppose that’s fair. But if we don’t find Roscoe soon, I should probably go back to the school and...” Trailing off, she sighed. She did not want to return to the auditorium without her dog. “I just hope we find him soon.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Parker said with confidence. “Where have you looked?”
“The way I just came. But I didn’t knock on doors or look in backyards. I probably should have, but I thought he’d come when he heard my voice.” He normally did, even if it was only to show himself and take off running again. Darn it! She needed to find Roscoe.
That silly, overgrown dog was her best friend and her sanctuary. Now and when she’d fought for her life. Her parents and her brother had held her hand and helped in every way they could have back then, but Roscoe was the only soul she’d shared her worst fears with.
“Let’s go the other way past the school,” Parker said, leading them in that direction. “Don’t worry. He’s out here somewhere, and between his moose-like size and...uh...that pair of horns on his head, he’ll be hard to miss. Those were horns, right?”
“Yeah. Dumb idea, dressing him like a reindeer.”
Parker chuckled. “Maybe that’s why he ran away, out of humiliation.”
“Oh, not hardly. I used to...” Pausing, she swallowed the words she’d almost said, that she used to buy matching bandannas for her head and his neck, when she’d lost her hair and didn’t feel like wearing a wig. “He doesn’t mind being dressed in...anything. I’m more worried he might scare whomever he comes across, since it’s dark and hard to identify that he’s a dog.”
“Ah. Gotcha. What breed is he, by the way? I didn’t get a good enough look to tell.”
“Who knows?” she said with a forced laugh. “He’s a Heinz 57.”
“So he could be part moose,” Parker said. And while she couldn’t see his face, she could imagine his grin without too much trouble. “And you’re from Denver? I’m guessing, based on the reason most people move here, that you’re a skier?”
Nicole yelled for Roscoe before responding. “I can ski, but I’d prefer not to. Much to the dismay of my family, who are all avid skiers. My brother, Ryan, relocated here several years ago because of the skiing, and about six months later, my parents followed. They’re all about the slopes, so you were right in a way, but I moved here to be close to family.”
“I see. Well, that’s important.”
“Yep. I...didn’t have any real reason to stay in Denver and my family is one of those super-duper, annoyingly close types. Of course, I had to find a job here first, and since music teacher positions are relatively scarce—especially in smaller communities—I had to be patient.”
The entire statement held 100 percent truth, but Nicole didn’t share that the largest portion of her decision was due to wanting a baby. If that hope came to fruition, living near her parents and Ryan would be paramount. For support and love, yes, but also... Well, she’d already had cancer once. She could become ill again. A horrible consideration, but one she had to take seriously before bringing a child into this world. Because if fate dealt her such a vicious blow a second time, and she didn’t survive, her parents would become her child’s guardian.
And if that happened? Living here would ensure that her son or daughter wouldn’t have to move to a new city, change schools or make new friends in the midst of his or her grief. It was the best she could do in controlling an otherwise-uncontrollable situation.
Oh, no way in hell was she planning on dying. Nicole was planning on living to the ripe old age of one hundred. Or longer! But she couldn’t have a baby without considering every possibility. Even the bad ones that you never wanted to think about or prepare for.
Today, though, she was healthy. Strong. Happy. And she might already be pregnant! All she needed in this minute was to find her dog, get herself to the school and do her job, and then wait on pins and needles for ten or so days until she could take a pregnancy test.
“Family is everything,” Parker said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. “My parents retired to Florida a while back, and my sister lived in California for quite some time. She lives here now, though. Happily married with a couple of kids. Twins.”
“My brother was recently married, but they don’t have any kids yet.” They probably would soon, though, and then Nicole would be an aunt. She’d love and spoil her niece or nephew, without doubt, and she adored her new sister-in-law. Andi was sweet and funny and perfect for Ryan. Even so, Nicole couldn’t deny that a pang of jealousy swirled in with the rest. “But wow, twins,” she said, forcing herself to continue the conversation. “That seems crazy and wonderful, all at once. Boys or girls? And are they identical or fraternal?”
“One boy, one girl, so that means they’re fraternal. They’re toddlers, so my sister and brother-in-law—their names are Daisy and Reid—have their hands full. Big-time.” Parker laughed and then, raising his voice, called out for Roscoe. “But yeah,” he said a minute later, “it’s always good to have family nearby. Makes the difficulties of life easier.”
Did it ever. Nicole sighed in disappointment when her dog failed to appear and in, well, another shot of envy. “Two babies, one of each, at the same time,” she said. “How perfect is that? If you don’t mind me asking, what are their names?”
“Why would I mind? The twins are Charlotte and Alexander. My girls are like little mothers whenever we’re all together. It’s kind of great to see, actually.”
“I bet it is.” She took a turn hollering for her absentee dog, and again, no sound or sight of the furry, lovable canine followed. Emotion she’d so far managed to repress kicked in good and hard, and she inhaled a large breath in an attempt to calm down before breaking into tears in front of a man whom, while kind and charming, she did not really know.
The idea of crying in Parker’s presence sent her tears scurrying for cover. Nicole disliked crying in front of anyone except for Roscoe. At first because the only time her tears seemed able to show themselves was when she was alone at home, with just her dog for company.
Now she thought this tendency had more to do with her intense desire to present a strong, calm visage to the world, no matter the circumstances. Doing so helped her feel less vulnerable to forces outside of her control, even though she knew full well that keeping her emotions under wraps wouldn’t stop her from being hurt or becoming ill again.
“Roscoe! Come here, boy!” Parker’s deep voice whipped into the night air, likely carrying much farther than hers could and startling her to renewed awareness. His hold on her arm tightened, and again, she felt that irresistible wash of comfort and absolute security.
“Thank you,” she said to Parker, “for not running over me or my dog and for going above and beyond.” Her hair was wet from the snow, her legs and feet were freezing, the wind stung her cheeks. But thanks to Parker’s close proximity and his coat, the portion of her body from hips to shoulders remained toasty warm. “You didn’t have to give me your coat or leave your kids to come out here and try to help find Roscoe. I... You’ve been very nice.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “But trust me, I’m equally as glad I didn’t mow you or your dog over, and helping is the right thing to do. My girls are fine. They’re waiting with some friends, being watched over by plenty of adults. And frankly, what kind of man would I be if I allowed an angel’s wings to freeze?”
“Well...still. You have to be frozen.”
“Nah. I’m wearing a couple of layers, so I’m okay. Let’s just focus on getting Roscoe back to you. Where he belongs.”
By now, they’d just about reached the section of houses that stood directly across from the school, and Nicole considered calling a temporary halt to the search. For the sake of her job and the many kids and parents waiting. Yet, how could she give up when Roscoe was out here, somewhere in the dark, cold and maybe hurt—oh, she prayed, don’t let him be hurt—all by himself? She couldn’t. So that left her with one alternative.
“Can you do me a favor?” she asked, going with her gut. “I can’t stop looking for him, but I also can’t ignore that people are waiting for me in the auditorium. Could you let everyone know that I’ll reschedule the tryouts for...oh, next week, I guess? Since today is Friday.”
“Sure. I can do that for you, no problem,” Parker said instantly, making her believe he was more than ready to give up the search even if she wasn’t. Duh. Of course he was. The responsibility to locate her dog fell on her shoulders, not his. They barely knew each other.
“Thank you,” she repeated. “I really appreciate—”
“If you want my opinion, though,” Parker broke in, “I think you should come inside and change out of that costume into something warmer. When you’re all set, we can continue the search by car. We’ll be faster if we drive a loop around the entire area than if we keep walking.”
Nicole blinked, surprised and warmed through and through by Parker’s offer. “You don’t have to. I mean, you’ve already done more than enough. But changing into my normal clothes is a great idea, so I can get my coat and return yours.”
“Again, I wouldn’t have offered unless it was something I wanted to do,” Parker said as they started the trek across the street. Still arm in arm. “Besides which, my daughters will want to help. Actually, they’ll insist. And let’s face it—four pairs of eyes are far better than one.”
“Okay, I accept,” Nicole said after only the slightest of hesitations. If Parker wanted to lend a hand, then why argue? Especially since he was right. The more people on the lookout for Roscoe, the better chance she had of finding him tonight. “Redundant maybe, but thank you.”
A soft, husky rumble of a laugh emerged from his chest. “I have never been thanked so often in such a short amount of time, but you’re very welcome, Nicole. While the circumstances are less than ideal, I’m enjoying this—getting to know you—quite a bit.”
Nicole’s cheeks burned even hotter. It had been a while since a man’s comments had made her blush. So long, she couldn’t even remember the last occurrence. Of course, she hadn’t dated seriously since before her illness and had dated only a few men after. One of whom could have become a long-term partner—she’d liked him enough for that to happen, at any rate—but once she told him that she was a cancer survivor, he disappeared into thin air.
As in, she had never heard from him again. Not a phone call or an email. Not even a cowardly text message. Evidently, her cancer confession had spooked the man and sent him running for the hills. She understood why, and it wasn’t as if they’d dated for very long, but his vanishing act without so much as a goodbye hurt. It made her realize that most men would likely view her as damaged goods, and she did not need that label put on her. From anyone.
Easier to call a halt to dating altogether.
So she had, and until now, she hadn’t really missed having a man in her life. But Parker—by virtue of his kind, considerate behavior and, okay, enormous sex appeal—had seemingly ignited her onetime yearning for love. A yearning that wouldn’t do her any good at all. Unlike her deep desire for a baby, which she potentially—and with a lot of help—had the power to fulfill, wishing for a man to love her was completely useless.
She couldn’t visit a clinic to get a man, now, could she?
The simplest and sanest explanation for Parker’s attention boiled down to good manners and a normal inclination to help someone in need. Even if he was somewhat interested in her as a woman, he would change his mind the second he discovered her rocky medical history. Why wouldn’t he? Not only was Parker a widower, but if what Nicole had heard was correct, his wife had died from the same disease that could have claimed her life: breast cancer.
Yeah. He’d run for the hills, too. And she wouldn’t blame him.
So tonight, she’d accept his help and revel in his attention, and perhaps a friendship between them might develop. But no more than that. For his sake, his daughters’ sakes and even for Nicole’s. She might be pregnant. In a year’s time, she might be a mother.
