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“No.”
“Hips?”
“All good.”
“We can hold off a trip to the hospital tonight. Depending on how you feel tomorrow, you might want to see a doctor.”
“Okay.”
“Time for you to get out of those wet clothes. You can change in the bathroom. First door on the right.” Bill motioned to Liam. “The little dude and I will make cocoa.”
Liam clapped the elephant’s paws together. “Cocoa. Cocoa.”
Bill offered her the phone. “Take this with you. You can call whoever you need to, and let them know what’s happened.”
Sadness filled her gaze. “Thanks, but there’s no one to call.”
With that, Grace walked down the hall. Denim clung to her hips, showing off her curves and the sway of her hips.
Nice butt.
Hot.
Whoa.
Not going to happen. Not with a mom. Definitely not with a widow.
He liked rescuing damsels in distress, but only long enough to see them back on their feet and be rewarded for his efforts. He might help moms, but he didn’t date them. Ever.
Mothers with children equaled commitment.
He’d rather hang in base camp, drinking and playing cards, than attempt that summit. Married friends might be happy, but they had provided enough beta on the climb. Marriage took commitment and hard work. An instant family wasn’t on Bill’s list of peaks to bag.
Hot or not, Grace and her son were his houseguests, period.
The bathroom door closed.
Liam sidled up next to Bill, pressing against his leg.
He glanced down. “Guess it’s you and me, kid.”
Liam held up his elephant.
“And Peanut.” The expectant look in the little boy’s eyes reminded Bill of the schoolkids who toured the station on field trips. Sitting behind the steering wheel wasn’t enough. Sirens needed to blare and lights flash. And helmets. The kids all had to wear the helmet. “I bet you want another cookie.”
“Please. Cocoa, too.”
Kids were the same whether they came from Hood Hamlet, Oregon, or Columbus, Georgia. “Marshmallows or whipped cream?”
“Both.”
A small hand clasped Bill’s larger one. Squeezed.
Warmth shot up his arm. Boy, that felt good. And not because Liam’s tiny fingers weren’t so cold any longer.
Inquisitive eyes full of adoration gazed up at Bill, making him feel like a superhero.
Something tugged inside his chest. Something he’d never experienced before. Something he didn’t understand. He shook off the unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling.
Must be all the excitement around here.
This wasn’t the evening he’d expected to spend. A cute kid wanting to make hot chocolate with him in the kitchen. A pretty mom changing into his pajamas in the bathroom. But Bill was not unhappy the way tonight was turning out.
Company and cookies and cocoa beat decorating the Christmas tree any day.
Even at midnight.
* * *
It’s going to be okay.
In the bathroom, Grace repeated Damon’s words. She stripped out of her clothes and dried herself off with a blue towel hanging on the rack.
Why wouldn’t it be okay?
She was naked, standing in a strange man’s house, about to put on a strange man’s pajamas, wondering if the strange man was too good to be true.
According to the sheriff, Bill Paulson was a kind, caring, generous man. She shouldn’t be surprised, since she believed Damon had helped her find this refuge from the storm.
But she doubted her late husband would appreciate the hum racing through her body. A hum that had nothing to do with the drive or the crash or the strangeness of the night, and everything to do with her handsome rescuer. The only way to describe the feeling was first-date jitters. Except this was no date. And Bill...
He reminded her of Damon. The two men had similar coloring and take-charge personalities. Bill exuded the same strength, confidence and heat as her husband.
Too bad the similarities ended there.
Damon had always been attractive, but his looks became rugged over the years due to scars from shrapnel and a nose broken twice. Not exactly world-weary, but not happy-go-lucky like Bill Paulson, whose gorgeous features belonged on the pages of an outdoor magazine layout. Bill wasn’t quite a pretty boy, especially with the sexy razor stubble, but close.
No doubt she was in shock.
That would explain her noticing every little thing about him. Reacting, too.
Touching Bill’s hand had felt good, his skin warm and rough against hers. His touching her had felt even better, his hand on her shoulder, calming and sure, as if it belonged there.
But when he’d touched her neck...intimate, almost sexual, albeit unintentional...
She missed...that. A man’s touch.
Don’t think about him.
At least not that way.
Annoyed with herself, she shrugged on the pajama shirt. The soft flannel brushed her like a caress. The friction of fabric over dry skin warmed her, even though the pajamas were too big.
The sleeves hung over her hands. She rolled them to her wrists, then fastened the front buttons with trembling fingers. Her hands didn’t shake from the cold, but from the situation.
Nerves.
She stepped into the pants. The hems pooled at her feet. She cuffed them.
The waistband slid down her hips. She rolled the top, determined to make this work.
Nerves weren’t her only issue. A touch of guilt, too.
Something’s got you wigged out.
Yeah, him.
Of all the houses on Mount Hood, she would pick the one belonging to a firefighter and mountain rescuer. The hottest guy she’d been alone with since, well, Damon had deployed.
Grace grimaced at her starstruck reflection. Had she looked this goofy while talking to Bill? She hoped not. Either way, she was being silly, acting like a teenager with a crush, not an adult, not a mom.
So what if Bill Paulson was a nice piece of eye candy? So what if he had a killer smile? So what if the concern in his bright, baby-blue eyes for her and Liam had sent an unexpected burst of heat rushing through her veins?
Tomorrow he would be one more person who had passed through her life. Nothing more.
All she had to do was survive tonight.
How hard could that be?
Grace shuffled from the bathroom and down the hallway, the carpet runner soft beneath her feet.
In the living room, a sense of warmth and homey goodness surrounded her. She’d been so frantic earlier she hadn’t noticed the house. Now she took in the hardwood floors, beamed ceiling, river rock fireplace, wood mantel covered with photographs, and beautifully lit Christmas tree.
She wiggled her toes.
More cabin than house.
Inviting and comfortable.
The kind of place she’d dreamed of living someday. The kind of place where a kid could grow up happy. The kind of place a family could call home.
The scent of the Christmas tree hung in the air along with a touch of smoke from the burning fire. The beer bottle on the wooden end table and the gigantic leather recliner seemed typical for a bachelor pad, but the couch with color-contrasting pillows and coordinating throw blanket seemed out of place for a guy living alone. A far cry from her cheap apartment in Columbus.
Was there a girlfriend or wife in the picture? Maybe an ex who had lived here and decorated?
Male laughter, rich and deep and smooth, washed over her like water from a hot shower, heating her from the outside in. Forget feeling warm; she was downright feverish.
She’d forgotten the appeal of a man’s laugh, the happiness and humor contagious. A higher pitched squeal joined in. That laugh, one she knew better than her own, brought a smile to her lips.
Liam.
Her chest tightened.
He could be such a serious boy. She was pleased he was having so much fun.
Grace entered the charming kitchen, with its dining area separated by a breakfast bar.
Bill sat at the table with her son, who was wrapped in a blanket, his little hands around a mug. Peanut sat on the table with his own mug in front of him.
What kind of guy would fix a cup of hot chocolate for a stuffed animal?
The sheriff had told her Bill Paulson was a cross between an Eagle Scout and an X Games champ. Yeah, that seemed to sum him up.
Grace moved behind Liam. She placed her hands on his narrow shoulders. “It looks like you boys did fine on your own.”
Bill stood, his manners excellent. “Your cocoa is on the counter.”
She noticed the steaming mug. “Liam doesn’t drink his very hot.”
“I’ve been around kids. I put ice cubes in his and Peanut’s cups in case they decided to share.”
She appreciated his treating Peanut like a living, breathing elephant, not a stuffed one. “Liam could spill on your blanket.”
“It’s washable. Isn’t that right, little dude?”
Liam looked up at Bill. Her son had a case of hero worship. “That’s right, big dude.”
“Okay, then.” Grace took her cup from the counter and sipped. “This is delicious.”
Bill raised his cup. “My mom makes her own cocoa mix.”
Liam took another sip. “It’s yum.”
Interesting. Her son seemed perfectly content to be away from her. Usually he didn’t want to be out of eyesight.
A twinge of regret pinched Grace’s heart. She’d done everything she could to be a good parent, but that didn’t seem to be enough. Liam liked having Bill—a man—around. Well, her son better enjoy the company because tomorrow they would be on their own again.
“You have a very nice home.” She wouldn’t expect a single guy’s house to be so clean, with homemade cocoa and cookies at the ready. “Thanks for everything.”
Bill gave her the once-over.
Grace knew better than to be flattered, especially since she couldn’t tell what he thought of her. Probably not much, given she was wearing his baggy pajamas, had no makeup on and her hair was a scraggly mess.
Her appearance wasn’t due only to traveling. She hadn’t cared how she looked since Damon died. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had her hair cut. She hadn’t thought about her hair, her nails, her looks.
Until now.
She combed her fingers through damp strands, all too aware of how she’d let herself go these past two and a half years. Not that she wanted a man in their life. She could have stayed in Columbus and married Kyle if she’d wanted a husband.
