Christmas Cookie Baby Page 11

  She stood and he put his arms around her, awkwardly shuffling the rod into her hands. His fingers cupped hers, making sure she held the rod tight and away from her stomach.

  “Okay,” he said, “start reeling.”

  She did. When her tingling fingers slipped, he was there to catch the reel, starting her again. “Pull back,” he urged.

  Laughing and breathless, she followed his directions.

  On the lake’s sparkling surface, the trout leapt, landing with an impressive splash. “Look at him!” she said. “He’s huge!”

  Laughing along with her, Colby said, “I’d offer to make him into a pillow for you, but…”

  “That’s okay, but thanks for the thought.”

  Tugging hard on the rod, he said, “You bet.”

  They stood there together, reeling in the fish, for what felt like the longest time, when it had probably only been seconds. The fish was still fighting as Colby unhooked him, then added him to a vintage fish basket.

  They caught three more nice-sized trout, which was epic. Even better was standing in the circle of Colby’s arms, with his solid chest warming her back, imbuing her with his strength. Making her yearn for the sort of connection between a man and woman that she’d only ever seen in movies. But none of this was real. The idyllic scenery forged a backdrop for romance—anyone would feel butterflies in such a magical place, right?

  When Colby announced they’d caught enough to make a great dinner and maybe even breakfast, he left her to rinse his hands in the lake.

  “That was fun,” she said while he gathered his knife and tackle.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wasn’t sure.”

  “What do you mean?” She shaded her eyes from the sun that was finally low on the horizon.

  “You being a city girl and all, I thought you probably wouldn’t get a kick out of something as mundane as fishing.”

  “Nothing about that was remotely mundane.” She gathered his pliers and a khaki-colored vest covered in more fishing flies. “Though I have to admit that this is the closest I’ve come to hunting my own dinner—unless you count picking a lobster out of a tank.”

  “Nope.” He carried the rod and basket of fish in one hand, resting his free hand on the small of her back.

  Not only did his touch warm her, but it made her feel safe and secure, as if she was someone to be looked after and cherished. It was a lovely feeling. Wholly unexpected.

  Soon, she’d have an entire new life to care for in the form of a child, at least for the next eighteen or so years. But then what? She wasn’t about to saddle her son with one of those needy mothers who expected him to dedicate his life to her. What happened after he left the nest? What happened when she was once again on her own with nothing to warm her but memories of perfect days like this?

  The whole thing was bizarre. Completely out of character. She’d forever known she’d be better off alone, so how come she couldn’t get enough of Colby’s company?

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said along the short return trip to the cabin. He slipped his trout rod into a hollow log holder on the back porch.

  “Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “The baby?”

  She nodded. “How did you guess?”

  “When you think about him, you have this protective way of holding your bump.”

  “I’ve never noticed.” She followed him to the small fish-cleaning station at the porch’s far end, then glanced down to her hands’ placement. “You’re right.”

  “It’s cute.” Scaling the fish, he added, “Besides, I like knowing you’re already watching out for the little guy—even if you do hit the squirt cheese a bit too hard.”

  Leaning against the porch rail, she grimaced. “Guilty as charged. Need help?”

  “Nah. Why don’t you go on inside and take a nap? It’s been a long day. I’ll wake you when dinner is done.”

  “Colby, I’m not an invalid.”

  “Did I say you were?”

  “No, but…”

  “You’ve already put in plenty of hard labor lugging my kid around.”

  “Are you for real?” she asked with a shake of her head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re flawless. You’re like some textbook example of the perfect guy. Don’t you ever loaf around doing nothing? Or burp real loud, or leave your clothes all over the floor?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but what good would any of that do?”

  “I don’t know, I just…” She tugged her sweatsuit zipper up and down. “Part of me feels like you’re too good to be true. There’s got to be something about you that’s bad.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Just because.”

  “Let me guess,” he said, filleting the first fish. “If I’m not some womanizing chauvinistic creep, you don’t have a convenient out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. If I’m a bad guy, then you’re the good guy by default. You’re not only right in keeping me away from my son, but noble. You’re taking the high road, while I’m a few thousand miles away where you can forget all about me. Then you can tell our son anything you want. But you want to know something, Rose?”

  Swallowing hard, she raised her chin.

  “Whatever you say, you’re going to know the truth. Whatever you decide at the end of the week, you’re going to know I am a good guy. I’d be a caring, considerate husband to you, and a damned good father for our son. So hey, if you decide none of it matters and that you’d be better off sailing this family ship all on your own—well, you can take that up with my lawyer. But in the meantime, I want you to know what you’re passing up.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “SMOOTH MOVE THERE, bud,” Colby mumbled under his breath a good twenty minutes later as he eased a blanket over Rose’s sleeping form, tucking the fringed edges around her toes. He’d wanted to chase after her right away, but since he’d been covered in fish guts, it had felt all wrong.

  Why had he gone off on her?

  After getting over the initial shock of being kidnapped, he’d actually sent up a silent thanks to his friends. They’d realized that all it’d take to convince Rose that both she and their son would be happy up here was a few days alone in true Alaska. Once she saw the majesty of the land surrounding the cabin, not to mention what an excellent provider he could be without even a supermarket, she’d have no choice but to concede he was right—the two of them should get hitched. As for her job, he wasn’t all that clear on exactly what she did. But if she’d worked here once, why couldn’t she do it again?

  Could it really be that simple? Suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

  Here he’d been working his ass off to make her happy, yet nothing seemed good enough. And he was starting to get the feeling that nothing he’d ever do would be. Particularly since she’d already made up her mind to leave.

  With a resolute sigh, he headed into the kitchen to stoke the fire in the old woodstove.

  Cooking was always a challenge up here, but the food tasted so much better that it was worth the extra effort—extra effort he was now doubly determined to make in the hope of Rose being so enthralled by his culinary skills that she forgot his rant.

  As he melted pats of the butter Nugget had packed in a cast iron skillet, then added chopped garlic cloves and the trout fillets, Colby’s mind wandered to the night he and Rose met.

  He’d been terrified of losing her.

  It was a damned miracle neither had died in the impact.

  But not only had they survived, their situation had turned all the more surreal when she’d asked him to make love. Maybe it was the fear, the cold, the physical hunger, but what they’d shared had been wild. Their night had rocked him to his core. How could she now be so unaffected?

  What was he missing?

  He tossed a box of ready-made pilaf into more butter simmering in another skillet, then sliced off the rough ends of a bunch of pencil-thin aspa
ragus.

  This last run he’d made to Global, Dot had let him have it. Telling him he’d better treat Rose with kid gloves. She’d rambled on about what a rough childhood Rose had had, and how that mother of hers had set such a rotten example.

  Stirring the pilaf, then adding water, it occurred to Colby that a part of him was tired of the fight. Tired of always being the one making concessions.

  But then he remembered the ultimate prize.

  A son.

  How long had he dreamed of becoming a father?

  Forever.

  If Colby was even half the man he’d professed to be out on that porch, then no matter how many times he had to suck up to Rose, he’d do it. This wasn’t just about him, but his son.

  “THIS IS DELICIOUS.” Rose swallowed her last bite of trout before sipping lake-chilled sparkling cider. “Thank you.”

  Across the candlelit table, her gaze locked with Colby’s. She looked down. Their exchange on the back porch still felt too raw.

  “You’re welcome. Any ideas as to what you want to do tomorrow?”

  “What’re my options?”

  He forked a bite of fish. “Since we’ve already established hiking is out, I’ve got a boat. We could row around the lake.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “Good.”

  Rose bit her lip hard while fighting tears.

  She hated the formality between them.

  Worst of all, she hated that Colby had been right.

  His every word had been true, but that didn’t make any of it easier to stomach. Okay, so maybe he was the one guy in a million who might make a great dad or husband. That didn’t mean she could simply blink and forget all the painful memories of her own dad, or the disasters her mom and assorted divorced friends had made of their lives.

  Colby’s unaffected charm made it almost believable that if she gave marriage a chance, her life might turn out differently than her mother’s or her friends’. But what if she was wrong? It wouldn’t be just her own life she was messing up, but her son’s. From where she stood, she didn’t think taking that kind of risk was responsible.

  “A.I.,” she said a few minutes later, sick of the silence.

  “What?”

  “A.I. You asked me the other night what my favorite movie was. That’s it. A.I. I cry every time I see it.”

  He sighed, obviously as fed up with their awkwardness as she was. “What do you want to do, Rose? We can’t keep fighting. It isn’t good for you or the baby.”

  “I know.” Hating the fact that yet again he was right, she bowed her head.

  “Look at me.” He reached across the small table, tucking his fingers beneath her chin.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re beautiful. I want to see you.”

  She glanced up with a faint smile. “How come, no matter how determined I am to distance myself from you, I feel like we keep getting closer?”

  With a shrug, he said, “I’m guessing it has something to do with my cooking.”

  Tears still clinging to her lashes, she sniffed before laughing. “You’re probably right.”

  “Of course, I’m right. Plus, I’m damned good-looking. Our kid’s probably going to be the next Chris Hemsworth.”

  “You think?”

  “Oh heck, yeah.”

  They shared an impromptu toast of cider.

  “Beauty and the Beast—both versions,” she said. “I’m a sucker for anything Disney.”

  He glanced over his shoulder as if checking to see whether anyone else was listening. “Me, too. But what kind of man admits to getting a kick out of kid flicks?”

  A good man. An even better father.

  “That damned Pocahontas. A while back I was babysitting Tanner’s two nieces. The first thing they did was start that flick. I swear, by the end, they’d run off to their rooms to play Barbie, and there I was sitting in the living room, riveted, fighting so hard to hide tears that I must have sounded like a bleating baby goat.”

  “Quit.” Rose laughed so hard that she teared up all over again. “You’re going to make me pee.”

  “That’s a bad thing? Are you insinuating my bathroom accommodations are lacking?”

  “They’re lacking, all right—the major necessities. Like a flush toilet!”

  “That’s it.” With a playful growl, he shoved back his chair to storm her side of the table. “Now you’ve done it.”

  “Colby! What—agh!” He hefted her into his arms, heading out the back door. “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless from laughing, tossing her arms around his neck.

  “You said you had to pee, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but in a real bathroom.”

  “Oh—so now my sweet little outhouse isn’t even real? Would you prefer going behind a nice, tall spruce tree just like the bears?”

  “No, I…” He’d carried her midway down the outhouse trail. With her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips inches from his, she was as hyperaware of him as she’d been all those months ago. He was hard yet soft, smelling of sun and the lake. A hint of garlic butter and trout.

  Before she could stop herself, her fingers had wandered to the back of his head, easing into his thick hair, urging him to press his lips to hers.

  Leaning against a tree, he settled her deep in his arms, groaning as she opened her mouth, searching for his tongue. This was lunacy, yet she felt powerless to stop. Almost dying may have initially brought them together, but this kiss had far more to do with her nonsensical attraction. Now, with his baby growing inside her, part of her longed to revisit the intimacy they’d long ago shared.

  She told herself to stop kissing him because they were strangers, but that was a lie. At this moment, she knew him as intimately as her next breath.

  “Whoa…” Breathing hard, he pulled away. “What’re you doing, Rose?”

  “I don’t know.” Resting her forehead against his chin, she asked, “Does it matter?”

  “Hell, yes. I can’t turn my feelings for you on and off like a goddamned switch. Not now. With the baby, this chasm still between us goes much deeper than sex.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” Setting her on her feet, he once again forced her gaze to his. Never had she missed the cover of darkness more. This place was unnatural—the way the sun never set.

  She wrenched her chin from his hold, throwing her arms around him in a hug—not a sensual hug, but a confused one.

  “Talk to me.” He held her blessedly close. “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know,” she said against his chest. “That’s the problem. Just when I think I’m doing the right thing by heading back to Chicago, something reminds me of that night—of the way you made me feel. Safe. Like as long as you held me in your arms, nothing could ever go wrong.”

  If you became our son’s full-time father, would he feel protected, too?

  “I’m glad I made you feel that way, Rose, but it’s nothing I can sustain. Something in life always goes wrong. I can’t prevent that. I’m just a man. All I can promise is that whatever rough patches we may hit, we’ll get through them together.”

  She nodded.

  “Still have to go to the bathroom?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Come on. I’ll walk you the rest of the way.” He reached for her hand, interlocking their fingers. His strong hold flooded her with conflicting emotions. All in the same breath, how could she know she should push him away, yet never want to let go?

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, having safely returned to the cabin, Rose asked, “How long does it take to get used to the fact that it’s always daytime?”

  “Don’t know. Aside from my SEAL days, I’ve never known the sun to do anything but what it does here.” Colby glanced up from his task of putting fresh-smelling sheets and a blanket on the sofa. Rose had changed into pink silk pajamas.

  “Want to tell me about why you left the Navy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fair
enough.”

  “The reason I left had less to do with fairness. More like self-preservation. Bottom line, when Brody was honorably discharged for medical reasons, I followed before I ended up in the same messed up shape as him. He’s good now. I am, too. End of story.” She glanced his way to find him clenching his jaw. Her heart ached for him. Whatever atrocities he’d seen during his time served, she wished for the power to wipe his memory clean.

  But since she couldn’t do that, she opted for small talk. “We’re both adults,” she said, slipping a red flannel case onto his pillow. “We could share the bed without incident.”

  “You so sure about that?” He winked.

  She blushed, plumping his pillow before dropping it at the end of the sofa.

  “Come on, then…” He pressed his hand to the small of her back. Each of his fingertips soothed like a balm. If his touch felt that good through her clothes… Her cheeks blazed upon finishing the thought. “Let’s get you settled in for the night.”

  “I can put myself to bed.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pulled back the red down comforter, and she climbed between navy-blue sheets. Once she’d settled her head on two cloud-like pillows, he tucked the covers snug around her toes.

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  “That’s the plan. Good night,” he said to her belly. Swoon.

  “Good night.”

  He blew out the three candles that had been lighting the room, but even with the shades drawn, at a few minutes past eleven, it wasn’t completely dark.

  “Brr,” he said, climbing into his own makeshift bed. “Sorry about there not being a fire.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not like we could evict the bird babies.”

  “True.”

  Rose pulled the covers up to her neck. “Thanks for a nice night.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And next time we play checkers, I’m beating you.”

  He laughed. “Dream on.”

  Funny that he’d use the word dream. Aside from their one war of words, the rest of the day had been as perfect as a dream. Catching the fish. Sharing Colby’s delicious meal. The mock battle on the way to the outhouse that had ended in an epic kiss. Warm and funny conversation over three games of checkers.