A Cowboy's Christmas Promise (26 page)

She tapped her manicured nails on the counter. “I was awful to her yesterday, and she stood her ground. She had every right to give me a piece of her mind.”

Daniel felt an arc of pride zing through his midsection. He was dying to know what she'd said.

Evelyn took a deep breath. “But do you want to know what really convinced me?”

“Absolutely.”

She pointed out the front windows. “The snowmen.” She stood up, folding the paper and putting it in her purse. “Come look.”

He followed her out the front door and out into the yard, mystified. He ran his eyes over the four figures, trying to determine what she was talking about. One of them was tall and had Daniel's scarf draped around it. Two little ones came next, and the girls had put their own hats on them. Then there was one with a scarf he'd seen Hayley wear. In front of each of the snowmen, Gracie and Bryn had scratched a name in the snow. Daddy, Bryn, Gracie, Hayley.

He looked at the little snow family his children had created, feeling a warmth seep from the center of his chest out to his fingertips and toes. It looked so—right.

“Look over there.” Evelyn pointed off to the left side of the snowmen, toward the ground next to the one wearing his scarf.

Daniel swallowed hard when he saw the snow angel with
Mommy
written on its skirt.

“It's a kicker, isn't it?” Evelyn bit her lip as she stared down at the angel. “That angel is smiling.”

Daniel touched the petals of the yellow roses before he set them carefully on the base of Katie's granite headstone. They were a splash of color in a cemetery filled with white and gray on this New Year's Eve day. He knew they'd freeze by tonight, but he always brought yellow roses. Always.

He needed to remember to tell the girls that Katie's favorite color was yellow.

His chest felt heavy as he ran his hand along the polished top of her stone. It was cold, lifeless, stark, reflecting the low, leaden sky above.

He cleared his throat, looking around. Not another soul was in the graveyard this morning.

“Hi, Katie,” he finally spoke, but his voice was gravelly. “I miss you.”

It was the same way he'd greeted her every time he'd visited this stone over the past two years, and every time before today, the words had caught in his throat.

He brushed snow from the granite bench next to Katie's stone, then sat down, staring at her name and at the way-too-short time span between her first day and her last. Then, as he always had, he started talking about the girls. Told Katie what they'd been up to lately, about how they'd both lost the same exact tooth within twelve hours of each other last week, how they'd insisted on adopting Olaf the cat “because Mommy would have kept him.”

And then he stopped and took a deep breath. The whole reason he'd jumped this flight this morning was because he needed to come here—to Denver—to Katie—before he went to Hayley. He'd felt like he had to visit Katie's grave one more time—before he could truly think about making a future with someone else.

“So, Katie.” He cleared his throat again. “You're probably wondering why I'm really here, right?” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I…met a woman. She's—she's sweet, and she's kind, and crazy, but the good kind. She can't cook anything besides cupcakes, and she would rather live with a big, slobbery dog than a man. But I think she's fallen for Gracie and Bryn, and maybe—maybe even for me.”

He took another deep breath.

“I wasn't looking, Kate. I had every plan of going through the rest of my days just being a daddy, not a husband again, and I was grateful for all of it. I never, ever thought I'd find the kind of love we had again.”

Daniel paused, staring up at the dull gray sky. The clouds were barely moving, and the first flakes of snow drifted down to land on his coat. He put his elbows on his knees, emotions roiling. “But here's the thing I finally figured out. I
won't
ever find our kind of love again, because it was me and you—you and me—us. I
couldn't
ever find it again.

“I think, though…I think I've found a different kind of love.”

A chickadee landed on a low branch near her headstone, tipping its tiny head back and forth. His throat tightened when he saw it. Katie's favorite bird. Evelyn would say it was a sign, but he didn't believe in that stuff. He looked at the bird, now looking at him.
Of course he didn't.

He shook his head, shifting his eyes back to the gravestone.

“I—I think you'd like her, Katie. I think the two of you might actually have been friends, given the chance.” He paused, unsure of how to say the rest. “I'm thinking about asking her to stay. But I had to come here. Had to come tell you about her first. Had to—had to say good-bye.”

He took a deep breath, let it out through his mouth. “I've never really said…good-bye.”

He felt drops of moisture in the corners of his eyes, and took a frustrated swipe at them. “I loved you, Katie. Loved you so much it hurt. Loved you so much I wanted to lie down in this grave with you so I didn't have to live without you.” He swiped at his eyes again. “Dammit. I still love you. I'll always love you.

“But—but I think maybe I can love someone else, too. I think what I finally realized is that falling in love with Hayley doesn't mean I loved you any less. It doesn't mean I'll forget what we had. It just means—maybe I'm healing. And—I think that's a good thing.”

He took a catchy breath.

“We're not coming back to live here in Denver. Not now, not maybe ever. I don't know. For now, Montana is working. I love it there, the girls love it there, and if I'm lucky, I'll convince Hayley to fall in love with it as well.”

He looked at his watch, then back up at the sky, where the flakes were falling faster. If he was going to make it back to Montana in time to get to Whisper Creek tonight, he needed to get to the airport.

He stood up slowly, reluctant to leave, but anxious at the same time. “I'll never forget you, Katie. And I'll never,
ever
let your daughters forget you. That I promise.”

He put his fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss there, then set his hand gently on the granite, holding it there for a long, long moment. “I have to go.”

“You okay?” Jess sidled up to Hayley near the French doors in the main lodge's great room. The New Year's Eve party was in full swing, with a deejay spinning music, the bar hopping, and the ceiling filled with what looked like a thousand silver balloons. It was a festive, happy scene, but all Hayley wanted to do was duck out the doors and go hide her tears in her cabin.

Jess handed her a glass of wine, then did a double take when she saw her eyes. “Oh, no. What happened?”

Hayley blinked her eyes hard a couple of times. “He's not coming.”

“I never thought he w—” Jess scrunched her eyebrows together. “Did you—expect him?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know.”

“I thought the plan was to get on the plane tomorrow and try to forget him.” Hayley couldn't help but see Jess's lips tipping upward at the edges. “Wasn't that where you were at last night?”

“It was! It is!” She looked out the doors toward the mountains. “Oh, God, Jess. What have I done?”

“I don't know. What
have
you done?”

Hayley looked at her phone, thinking about Daniel's voice mail, which, as of ten minutes ago, had told her it was full. “I might have left him a couple of messages.”

Jess's smile got bigger. “How
many
couple of messages?”

“A few. Eighteen.”

Jess laughed out loud. “You've left that man eighteen messages? Hayley Scampini?”

“Yeah, well, turns out it was a stupid idea to do so.”

“Why?”

“Because I just talked to Evelyn. She's at his house with the girls. Daniel's not even—there. He went back to Denver.”

Jess's face fell. “Denver? Did she say why?”

“She said it wasn't for her to say.” Hayley handed her glass back to Jess. “I'm sorry. I can't do this. I can't be here right now. I dumped my pride right down the proverbial toilet and poured my heart out to that man—well, to his voice mail—and he hasn't even had the decency to call back. And now he's in Colorado, for God's sake.”

She sighed, looking down at the dress she'd picked especially for tonight. It was a subtle kaleidoscope of deep greens and blues, accented with golden threads, and the saleswoman had said it made her hair look like molten fire. She'd left a tip.

When she'd gotten dressed tonight, having left only fifteen voice mails at that point, she'd entertained delusions of Daniel showing up at Whisper Creek in dress shirt and pants, hair maybe a little tousled, body hard and heated. He'd walk across the room, eyes only on her despite the hordes of people in the room, and then he'd take her hands in his. They'd laugh. They'd kiss. They'd dance. They'd move as one, and later, maybe they'd
be
one.

Instead, she stood at the fringes of a party, one of a hundred people in the room, but except for Jess, completely alone.

Just as she'd always said she wanted to be.

“Is this gazebo taken?”

Hayley jumped at the sound of Daniel's deep, delicious voice an hour later, turning around to see him standing on the bottom step, hands buried in the pockets of his wool coat. In the glow of the tiny white lights, he looked like a proverbial Prince Charming, though with tired eyes.

She turned her head away quickly, running her gloves over her face to catch any rogue tears. Then she turned back. “It's not polite to sneak up on women having sulks in moonlit gazebos, Daniel.”

“Oh, are you sulking? I can come back.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“That's okay. It's a long walk. You can stay for a minute.” Her heart flipped into fifth gear as he slowly came up the steps.

He'd come!

“Why are you sulking?”

She raised her chin, backing up against the railing, holding on to it with both hands so she could try to pretend she wasn't shaking like one of the snowflakes fluttering around. “Well, I swallowed quite a load of pride today—and got no response. Thus, sulking.”

He smiled as he took a step toward her, then stopped.

“In my defense, I didn't see your messages until about twenty minutes ago. I forgot my damn phone this morning.”

Hayley felt her eyes widen as she looked at him. “So you weren't avoiding my calls?”

“No, I got them. All eighteen of them.”

“An-nd you maybe came here as soon as you
did
get the messages?”

If her heart beat any faster, she was going to do an old-fashioned swoon right here under the twinkly lights.

“I did.” He took another step closer, sliding his hands out of his pockets. Then, without pausing or asking for permission or giving any warning, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers, and where their previous kisses had been oh-so-hot, but also gentle, this one was anything but.

He unzipped her coat and slid his hands inside, tracing the lines of her body as his tongue tangled with hers. Then he slipped his hands upward, gentling the kiss as he cradled her jaw and slid his fingers into her hair.

Just as Hayley was sure her knees might actually collapse, he pulled slowly away, leaving her breathless, waiting. She traced the stubble on his cheek, drew her fingers along his eyebrows and over his eyes, wanting to know every detail, every nuance of his face, his body—his everything.

“I'm really, really glad you came,” she whispered.

He smiled as he turned his face to kiss her hand. “You're really, really good at showing it.”

“Daniel—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Shh. You've talked enough, don't you think?”

“Only to your phone, not to you.”

“It worked. I'm here.”

“Good point.”

He pulled back a little bit more, sliding his hands down her arms and linking them with hers. “I've been doing a lot of thinking.”

“It's going around.”

“Tell me you meant all of those things you said.”

“I did.”

He nodded slowly. “So you're truly ready to admit you were wrong about the whole happily-ever-after thing?”

“Um.”

He squeezed her fingers. “And the
forever
thing?”

“I was sort of having a moment when I left those messages.”

“Sounded to me like you were having about eighteen moments.”

“Maybe. In my defense, I thought—I don't know what I thought. You didn't call back, and that scared me. Which scared me.”

Daniel planted a kiss on her nose. “I'm sorry I didn't call back.”

“It's okay. It's better that you're here.”

“So where does this leave us? Now that you've left incriminating admissions on my voice mail?”

Hayley shrugged carefully. “I don't think I know. This is way uncharted territory for me.”

“Should we take it day by day and see what happens?”

“That would be a logical strategy.”

“Would you rather elope tomorrow?”

She laughed, tension easing.

“God, no. Sort of. Yes. But no. Definitely no.”

She looked into his eyes, and for the first time in her life, felt her invisible walls melt into nothingness. She was completely, utterly, painfully in love with him.

“As mortified as I am that I left all those messages, I'm glad I did, because here you are.”

He took her face in his hands, his own eyes growing serious. “I'm not going anywhere, Scampini. Not now, not next week, not next month. We can take this as slow as you need to, because I know you don't have a lot of experience with men who actually stay…but I'm here. I'm here.”

Hayley melted against his chest, absorbing his heat, his scent, feeling for the first time in her life like the world made some sort of sense. Like love made some sort of sense.

He pulled back, face now amused. “I did particularly like the part about
I was wrong.
I bet you don't say that very often.”

She shook her head ruefully. “That was definitely a new one. But upon reflection, I wasn't actually really wrong.”

He started to argue, but she put up her hand. “I just—I never knew.”

“And now?”

“Now?” She took a deep breath for courage, but nothing had ever felt this right. “Now I know.”