Christmas on Crimson Mountain Read online

  “She’ll make you get rid of them?” he asked, allowing only a hint of triumph to slip into his tone.

  “She’ll want me to keep them.”

  He was intrigued despite himself. “Who are those girls to you?” When she only stared at him, Connor placed his cell phone on the table. He couldn’t believe he was considering the possibility but he said, “Tell me why I should let them stay.”

  Chapter Two

  April’s mind raced as Connor crossed his arms over his chest, biceps bunching under his gray Berkeley T-shirt. He was nowhere near the man she’d expected to be working for the next two weeks at Cloud Cabin.

  Connor Pierce was a famous author—not quite on a par with John Grisham, but a worthy successor if you believed the reviews and hype from his first two books. She’d checked his website after Sara had asked her to take on this job as a personal favor.

  April had worked full-time at Crimson Ranch when she and Sara had first arrived in Colorado. Although in the past year the yoga classes she taught at the local community center and at a studio between Crimson and nearby Aspen had taken up most of her time, she’d booked off these two weeks. April had been a yoga instructor, as well as a certified nutritionist, to Hollywood starlets and movie actors before her life in California imploded. Apparently Connor Pierce had an extremely stringent and healthy diet, and April felt more comfortable than the ranch’s new chef in tailoring her cooking to specific requests.

  Based on his publicity photo, Connor was a pudgy, bearded man with a wide grin, so the strict dietary requirements his editor had forwarded hadn’t quite made sense. They did for the man in front of her. He was over six feet tall, with dark hair and piercing green eyes in a face that was at once handsome and almost lethal in its sharp angles. As far as she could tell, he was solid muscle from head to toe and about as friendly as a grizzly bear woken from hibernation.

  “Ranie and Shay lost their mother last month and their dad has never been in the picture. Jill was an old friend of mine and gave me custody of the girls when she died.” She took a deep breath, uncomfortable with sharing something so personal with this seemingly emotionless man. “I can’t possibly keep them, but—”

  “Why?”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” she muttered.

  He raised one eyebrow in response.

  She grabbed the bag of groceries and walked toward the cabinets and refrigerator to put them away as she spoke. “The girls have family in California they should be with on a permanent basis. I’m not a good bet for them.” She ignored the trembling in her fingers, forcing herself to keep moving. “They’re with me temporarily over the holidays, but I can’t send them away. If it’s such a problem, we’ll go. I’ll get you settled, then Sara will find—”

  “They can stay.”

  April paused in the act of putting a bag of carrots into the refrigerator. Connor still stood across the kitchen, arms folded. His green eyes revealed nothing.

  “Why?” she couldn’t help but ask, closing the refrigerator door and taking two steps toward him. “What made you change your mind?”

  “Now who asks too many questions?” He ran a hand through his short hair. “Just keep them quiet and out of my way. I’m over seven months behind on the deadline for my next book. I have until the first of the year to turn in this book before they terminate my contract and...”

  “And?”

  “I’m here to work,” he answered, which wasn’t an answer at all. “I need to concentrate.”

  She nodded, not wanting to push her luck with this enigmatic man. “The food you requested is stocked in the pantry and refrigerator. Cell service is spotty up here, but there are landlines in both cabins. I’ll have dinner ready for you at six unless you call. You won’t even know we’re here with you.” Grabbing the empty cloth sack from the counter, she started past him.

  He reached for her, the movement so quick it startled her. She stared at the place where his fingers encircled her wrist, warmth seeping through the layers she wore. It was odd because for such a cold man, his touch almost burned.

  “I’ll know you’re here,” he said, his voice a rough scrape across her senses. “But keep the girls away from me.”

  “I will,” she promised. Something in his tone told her his demand was more than a need for quiet so he could work.

  He released his hold on her a second later and she left, stopping outside as the cold air hit her. She took a couple of breaths to calm her nerves. Yes, she’d have to tell Sara about Ranie and Shay, but not yet. Not until April could find a way to do it without revealing how weak and broken she still was.

  And that could take a while.

  She hurried across the snow-packed drive, worried that she’d left the girls alone for too long. The cabin was quiet when she entered through the side door.

  The caretaker’s cabin was much smaller than Cloud Cabin, which had been built to house family reunions and groups of guests who wanted a wilderness experience away from town. In addition to the oversized kitchen, Connor had his choice of five bedrooms, including two master suites, a huge family room and a game room, plus a workout area in the basement. There was a big patio out back with a fire pit and hot tub, but April had a hard time picturing Connor relaxing in the steam and bubbles. It was also better if she didn’t try to picture him bare chested because, despite his surly attitude, she’d felt a definite ripple of attraction to Connor Pierce. That was a recipe for disaster.

  The girls weren’t in the kitchen so she headed upstairs. In this cabin there were only two bedrooms, on either side of the narrow hallway. Sara and Josh had built it to accommodate the small staff needed when there were guests on-site. While construction had been completed in late summer, they’d only taken a few bookings for the fall and hadn’t expected anyone to be staying here over the winter months. It wasn’t exactly easy to access, although maybe that’s what appealed to Connor—or at least to his editor. April knew his debut book had been made into a movie and the sequel was set to release in the spring. She imagined there was a lot of pressure for another blockbuster in the series.

  The door to the second bedroom was closed and she had to press her ear to it before she heard voices inside. Both girls looked up when she walked in. “It was so quiet I thought you two might be napping.”

  Ranie rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve. I don’t take naps.”

  Shay smiled. “I do sometimes, but not today. Mommy used to nap a lot.”

  April remembered how tired the cancer treatments had made her. All that medicine to make things better, but there were difficult side effects at every stage. “What are you doing?”

  Shay held up a tangle of yarn. “I’m finger knitting. I can make you a scarf if you want.”

  “I’d like that,” April said, coming forward to sit on the edge of the other twin bed. “Who taught you to knit?”

  “Mommy taught Ranie, and Ranie taught me.” Shay pointed to her sister’s lap. “She’s really good. She can use needles and everything.”

  April placed her hand lightly on Ranie’s knee. “May I see?”

  The girl stood up abruptly, shoving what was in her hands into a bag. “I’m not that great. Mostly my rows are crooked. It was just something to do when we sat with Mom.”

  April tried not to let the girl’s constant rejection hurt her, but it was difficult. Ranie looked so much like Jill. “Your mom sent me a sweater one year for Christmas,” she told Shay, aware Ranie was listening even as she pretended to ignore them. “I have it with me if you’d like to see.”

  “Mommy made the best sweaters.” Shay tugged her fingers out of the yarn, which to April’s eyes looked more like a knot than a scarf. “I mess up a lot.”

  April reached for the deep red yarn, but Ranie stepped forward and snatched it away. “You’re getting better, Shay.” She stretched out
the jumble until April could see where it almost resembled a scarf. “I’ll unknot this and you can keep going.”

  Shay beamed. “Ranie is the best. She can teach you, too.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Don’t you have work to do?” Ranie asked, flipping her long braid over her shoulder. “Taking care of the big-shot author?”

  “I’ll have time,” April told her. “Would either of you like a snack before I start prepping dinner?”

  “Can we make the snowman now?” Shay asked, going on her knees to look out the window above the bed.

  April thought about the promise she’d made to Connor Pierce. “Because Mr. Pierce is writing a book, he’s going to need quiet. I know it’s fun to play in the snow, but—”

  “I can be real quiet,” Shay assured her, not turning from the window. “Ranie and me had to stay quiet when Mommy was sick.”

  “Ranie and I,” April and Ranie corrected at the same time.

  When April offered a half smile, Ranie turned away. April sighed. Between the cabin’s grumpy houseguest and her own ill-tempered charge, this was going to be the longest two weeks of her life. “Maybe it would be better if we found things to do inside the house.”

  “He doesn’t want us here,” Ranie said, her tone filled with righteous accusation. “That’s why we have to be quiet. He doesn’t want us.”

  April would have liked to kick Connor Pierce in the shin or another part of his anatomy right now. “He needs to concentrate,” she said instead, wanting to make it better for these girls who’d lost so much and were now in a strange state and a strange cabin with a woman who had been their mother’s friend but little to them. “It isn’t about you two.”

  “So we can’t go out in the snow?” Shay shifted so she was facing April. “We have to stay inside the whole time? That’s kind of boring.”

  Feeling the weight of two different stares, April pressed her fingers to her temples. She should call Sara right now and find someone else for this job, except then she’d have to make holiday plans for these girls. Her work here was a distraction, different enough from real life that she could keep the two separate. It was too much to think of making Ranie and Shay a part of her world. What if they fit? What if she wanted to try for something she knew she couldn’t manage?

  A remote cabin and its temperamental guest might be a pain, but at least it was safe. Still, she couldn’t expect the girls to entertain themselves for two weeks in this small cabin, and neither could Connor.

  “Get your snow gear from the shopping bags I left in the front hall,” she said after a moment. “As long as we’re not making a ton of noise, we can play in the snow as much as you want.”

  “Mommy liked to rest,” Shay said, too much knowledge in her innocent gaze. “Sometimes the medicine gave her headaches, so we know how to be quiet.” She wrapped her arms around April for a quick, surprising hug and then scrambled off the bed.

  “I’ll get your stuff, too,” she told Ranie before running from the room. “We’re going to build a snowman.” April could hear the girl singing as she went down the steps.

  Ranie was still glaring at her, so April kept her tone light. “I’d better put on another layer. My sweater and coat are warm but not if we’re going to be outside for a while.”

  “It’s me, right?” Ranie’s shoulders were a narrow block of tension.

  “What’s you?”

  “The author doesn’t want me around,” Ranie said, almost as if she was speaking to herself. “It can’t be Shay. Everyone loves Shay.”

  “It isn’t about either of you.” April risked placing a hand on Ranie’s back, surprised when the girl didn’t shrug it off. “He’s here to work.”

  “Aunt Tracy bought Shay a new swimsuit,” Ranie mumbled, sinking down to the bed.

  “For a trip to Colorado in December?”

  The girl gripped the hem of her shirt like she might rip it apart. “She wanted to take her to Hawaii with their family.”

  April shook her head. “No, your aunt told me the trip was only her, your uncle Joe and the boys.”

  “Tyler and Tommy are annoying,” Ranie said.

  April smiled a little. “I imagine nine-year-old twin boys can be a handful.”

  “I guess Aunt Tracy always wanted a little girl,” Ranie told her, “because I overheard Mom talking to her toward the end. She’d wanted us to live with Tracy, but Tracy would only agree to having Shay.” Her voice grew hollow. “She didn’t want me.”

  “Oh, Ranie, no,” April whispered, even as the words rang true. Jill’s sister had been just the type of woman to be willing to keep one girl and not the other. How could April truly judge when she couldn’t commit to either of them?

  But she knew the girls had to stay together. “I talked to your aunt before they left on their trip. It’s only for the holidays. We have a meeting scheduled with an attorney the first week of January to start the process of transferring custody. She’s going to take you both in the New Year. You’ll be back in California and—”

  “She doesn’t want me.” Ranie looked miserable. “No one does now that Mom is gone. That author guy is just one more.”

  “It’s not you.” The words were out of April’s mouth before she could stop them. She hated seeing the girl so sad.

  “You’re lying.” Ranie didn’t even pause as she made the accusation and paced to the corner of the room. “Everyone loves Shay.”

  “Something happened to Connor Pierce that makes it difficult for him to be around young kids.”

  “What happened?” Ranie stepped forward, hands clenched tightly in front of her. This sweet, hurting girl had been through so much. Once again, April wanted to reach for her but held back. She shouldn’t have shared as much as she had about Connor, but she couldn’t allow Ranie to believe she was expendable to everyone she met. At least this way, Ranie could help shield Shay, keep her out of Connor’s line of sight.

  April met Ranie’s clear blue gaze. “His wife and son died in a car accident a few years ago. The little boy was five at the time.”

  “Shay’s age,” Ranie whispered. The girl’s eyes widened a fraction.

  Good. The news was enough of a shock on its own. April didn’t have to share anything more. Not the images she’d seen online of the charred shell of a car after the accident and fire that had killed Connor’s family. Not the news report that said he’d also been in the vehicle at the time of the crash but had been thrown clear.

  She hoped he’d been knocked unconscious. The alternative was that Connor Pierce had watched his family die.

  * * *

  Connor glanced at the clock on his phone again, staring at the bright numbers on the screen, willing them to change. When they did and the numbers read 6:00 on the dot, he jumped out of the chair in front of the desk, stalked toward the door, then back again.

  He knew April was in the kitchen, had heard her come in thirty minutes ago. He’d been staring at the clock ever since. Minutes when he should have been working, but the screen on his laptop remained empty.

  Every part of his life remained empty.

  When his editor had suggested taking two weeks at a remote cabin to “finish” his manuscript, Connor hadn’t argued. He hadn’t wanted to explain that he still had over half the story to write. It had even made sense that a change of scenery might help him focus.

  That’s how it worked with writers, right? A quiet cabin in the woods, an idyllic setting to get the creativity flowing. What Connor understood, but wouldn’t admit, was that his inability to write came from the place inside him that was broken. There was simply nothing left, only a yawning cavern of guilt, regret and sorrow. Emotions he couldn’t force himself to mine for words to fill a manuscript, even one that was seven months past due.

  He shut the laptop and headed downsta
irs, the scent coming from the kitchen drawing him forward. That was as unexpected as everything else about April Sanders, since food was no longer something from which Connor derived pleasure. He ate for energy, health and to keep his body moving. He didn’t register flavor or cravings and lived on a steady diet of nutrition bars and high-protein meals that were bland and boring.

  Nothing about April was bland or boring, a realization that fisted in his gut as she turned from the stove when he walked into the room.

  “How’s the writing going?” she asked with a smile, as if they were friends. She wore a long-sleeved shirt that revealed the curve of her breasts and waist, with a pair of black yoga pants that hugged her hips. April was slim, with the natural grace of a dancer—someone aware of her body and what it could do. Her hair was still pulled back, but the pieces that had escaped to frame her face were curlier than before.

  “I could hear the kids playing outside,” Connor said, and watched her smile fade. This was who he was now, a man who could suck the warmth out of a room faster than an arctic wind.

  “We stayed on the far side of the caretaker’s cabin and the girls weren’t loud,” she answered, pulling a plate from a cabinet.

  “I still heard them.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Were you pressing your ear to the window?”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Not his ear, but he’d held his fingertips to the glass until they burned from the cold. The noise had been faint, drifting up to him only as he’d strained to listen. “Why were they outside? It’s freezing up here.”

  “Shay wanted to play in the snow.” April pulled a baking tray out of the oven and set it on the stove top. “They’re from California so all this snow is new for them.”

  “Join the club,” he muttered, snapping to attention when she grabbed a foil-wrapped packet on the tray and bit out a curse.

  She shook out her fingers, then reached for a pair of tongs with her uninjured hand.

  He moved closer. “You need to run your fingers under cold water.”