Gift Wrapped Dad. Sandra Steffen
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and brother would probably be walking toward the house right about now, the day’s dust thick on their skin. Inside, his mother would have a huge meal prepared. Voices would rise and fall during supper as Cort and their father argued about the price of wheat and just about everything else under the sun. In comparison, Will’s furnished apartment here in Allentown seemed as quiet as a crypt, and just as confining.
His family had wanted him to come home for the rest of his rehabilitation. Will knew they’d have done everything in their power to help him. That’s why he hadn’t gone. If he had let them do everything for him, he knew he’d never make it all the way back. That’s why he’d decided to come to Krista. She’d force him to reach his full potential. She always had.
Krista.
He glanced behind him at the gray carpet and the gray walls and the gray curtains and the gray sofa. Even the air looked gray. He remembered the way Krista’s pink lips had lifted when she smiled, the way her brown eyes had glinted when she laughed and the way her cheeks had colored when he’d asked about her sex life. Nothing about Krista was gray. Not her appearance, certainly not her personality.
Will thought about the past two days, remembering everything about her, the way she moved, what she said, even the way she said it. The intricate details in his memories surprised him. He was usually hard-pressed to put a name with a face. Yet in eight years, he hadn’t forgotten anything about her.
Not that she was exactly the same as he remembered. There was a subtle difference in her smiles, and he was sure he’d never heard so much pride and love in her voice as he’d heard today when she’d talked about her son. She said they lived in Coopersburg, a small town twelve miles away. For the heck of it, Will took out the telephone directory and turned to the area maps.
He located Coopersburg on Highway 309, and wondered what sort of town it was. He wondered what her house looked like. Out of the blue, he wondered what was stopping him from finding out.
Twenty minutes later he eased the midsize car around the last corner, steering with his left hand, accelerating and braking with his right. This specially made car served its purpose, but he couldn’t wait to drive his midnight blue sports car with four on the floor and raised-letter tires.
He slowed down when he spotted the house with the number he was looking for. So this is where Krista lives. The house sat on the corner, the streetlight reflecting off forest green siding and a black roof and shutters. A red bicycle leaned against the garage and wet leaves covered the compact yard. A small scarecrow hung from a Happy Halloween sign on the front door, and a ceramic black cat sat on the bottom step.
For a moment, he simply stared at the small house. He hadn’t called first, and he hadn’t been invited. That had never stopped him before. With anticipation strumming through him, he pulled the keys from the ignition, reached for his crutches and opened the door.
Leaves squished beneath his feet as he made his way to the front door, the panic that had threatened to choke him half an hour ago nearly gone. Now another sensation mingled with the restlessness in his mind and chest, this one infinitely more enjoyable.
He knocked on the door, deciding to say something clever and nonchalant the moment Krista opened it. He saw a curtain flutter and heard the lock turn. His anticipation increased and he felt himself begin to smile.
The door opened, but his words caught in his chest. All Will could do was stare.
Krista’s hair was down, waving past her shoulders like a dark cloud. The porch light deepened the color of her eyes and made the skin on her face look almost translucent.
“Will, are you all right?”
He nodded woodenly.
“Then, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I had to get out of that apartment before it swallowed me alive.” Was that his voice, so hazy and far away?
“That’s understandable,” she said. “You always were a man of action. Come on in.”
The soft rustle of her long purple shirt brought him out of his befuddled state. Taking a deep breath, he mentally kicked himself. So much for sweeping her away with his nonchalance. He had an almost overwhelming urge to drop his crutches and take her into his arms, to grasp her shoulders and pull her up to him for a long, drugging kiss. He wondered if she’d consider that off limits, too.
Finally he cast her what he hoped was a beguiling grin. “I thought about taking a walk, but decided to go visiting instead.”
“How many people do you know in Pennsylvania?” she asked.
“Counting myself, two.”
Shaking her head, Krista began to laugh. When she’d first seen Will standing on her front step, he’d looked bewildered, shaken. Why wouldn’t he be? Even the most self-confident, rugged men would be rocked by the kind of injury Will had sustained.
“Nice place.”
She watched as he took in the interior of her home, following his gaze as it strayed over textured wallpaper in shades of burgundy, gold and green, lighting on her overstuffed sofa and chairs and lacy curtains. He didn’t stop until he’d taken in the computer in the corner, Tommy’s radio-controlled car next to the couch and the baby toys she’d gotten out for her best friend’s triplets to play with in the morning.
“Did you decorate this yourself?” he asked, his voice low.
She made a sound that meant yes, then said, “Decorating magazines would call this room French country.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said softly. “You always had a passion for anything French.”
Krista looked directly into his eyes, noticing that the panic she’d seen when she’d first opened the door was gone. This was more like the Will she remembered. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she was glad that she’d been able to help him chase the dragons away.
“French restaurants are my favorite,” she said softly.
The stubble on his chin looked almost black in the faint light as he took a step closer. “And French bread,” he added with a half smile.
She crossed her arms and held his gaze as she said, “And don’t forget French toast.”
His crutch clunked against the coffee table as he took another step closer. “And then there’s always French kissing,” he said huskily.
This time, Krista didn’t add anything.
“Do you remember how much you used to love that, Krista?”
Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, and warmth drifted through her body. He had sensuous lips, masculinely shaped and boyishly pouty. Her skin heated in spite of the thin material of her shirt and jeans. That didn’t keep her eyes from trailing down his neck, over his wide shoulders and powerful arms, over his chest and trim stomach. Rather than detract from his powerful physique, the crutches somehow added to his mystery. Krista doubted that anything could alter his allure.
“I remember a lot of French things,” she said. “Tommy’s favorite is french fries.”
“He’s still young.”
Before she knew it, laughter bubbled out of her. “Oh, Will. Would you like to sit down?”
“I’d rather kiss you.”
His honesty was like a wick, his gaze a lighted match. Together they stoked a fire within her, a fire she’d thought had been extinguished a long time ago. That fire had burned out of control once. Krista didn’t plan to lose control again.
He moved toward her. This time she took a step back.
“Tommy’s sleeping right down the hall.”
“I wasn’t planning to make a lot of noise.”
His statement brought her eyebrows up. He used to make plenty of noise, and they both knew it. Holding