Christmas On Crimson Mountain. Michelle Major
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pale skin of her neck above the down coat she wore. The light in her eyes dimmed as her hand dropped.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw you come in,” he said, hitching a finger toward the window overlooking the front drive. “Are those your daughters?”
She shook her head.
“They can’t be here.”
“They aren’t here. They’re with me in the smaller cabin next door.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Their voices had drifted up to him when the girls spilled out of the car. The older one, her dark blond hair in a tight braid down her back, had kept her shoulders hunched, arms crossed over her chest as she took in the forest around the house. Connor had felt an unwanted affinity to her. Clearly, she was as reluctant to be trapped in this idyllic winter setting as he was.
It was the younger girl, bright curls bouncing as she pointed at the two log cabins situated next to each other on the property, who had brought unwanted memories to the surface. She’d given a squeal of delight when a rogue chipmunk ran past the front of the SUV. Her high-pitched laugh had raked across Connor’s nerves, making him want to claw at his own skin to stop the sensation.
She was dangerous, that innocent girl, threatening his stability on a bone-deep level. “I’m at this cabin to work.” He kept his gaze on the window. “I need privacy.”
“I’ll make sure you have it.”
“Not with kids around.”
She’d moved so quietly Connor didn’t realize April Sanders was standing toe-to-toe with him until he turned back. Up close, with the afternoon light pouring over her, she looked young and too innocent. He’d never seen anything as creamy as her skin, and he had a sudden urge to trace his finger along her cheek and see for himself if it was as soft as it looked.
It was a ridiculous thought. Connor didn’t touch people if he could help it. Not for three years, since that drive along the California coast when he’d held his wife’s hand for the last time.
Although he knew it to be untrue, he’d come to believe he could hold on to the memory of his wife and son more tightly if he kept himself cut off from physical contact with anyone else. He’d never felt the need before now.
The fact that this woman—a stranger—made him want to change was almost as terrifying as the deadline looming over his head. He took a step back.
“They have no place else to go,” she said, the gentle cadence of her voice at odds with the desperate plea he didn’t want to see in her eyes. “I promise I’ll keep them out of your way.”
Connor stepped around her, reaching for the sheet of paper on the table at the same time he dug in his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling Sara Travers.”
“No.” April snatched the paper with the contact information for Crimson Ranch out of his hand. “You can’t.” The sheer audacity of the action gave him pause.
“Are you going to hold me here against my will?” He almost laughed at the thought of it, but Connor also hadn’t laughed in a longer time than he cared to remember. “I’ll call my editor. He’ll contact Sara. I assume she’s your boss?”
“Please don’t.” Her voice hitched on the plea, making alarm bells clang in Connor’s brain.
“You’re not going to cry,” he told her. “Tell me you’re not going to cry.”
She took a breath, blinked several times. “Sara is my boss at the ranch, but she’s also my friend. She and Josh just left for a holiday vacation, and I don’t want her to worry.” April’s voice had gone even gentler, almost defeated. Another long-buried emotion grated at his nerves. “She doesn’t know about Ranie and Shay yet. If you tell her...”
“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.”
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,