When Snow Falls

“At least you have a tree.”

“You don’t?”

“Not yet. My girls keep bugging me to put one up. Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I thought decorating might cheer my mother up.”

“Does she still have the strength to come out here?”

“Every once in a while.” She’d hoped it would be comforting for Presley, too, who was having such a hard time coping with Anita’s decline.

He motioned to the empty fireplace. “Mind if I start a fire?”

“No.” She showed him the woodpile at one corner of the porch, then put on Enya’s Christmas CD while he coaxed a couple of logs to light.

“That’ll ease the chill a bit,” he said as he dusted off his hands.

She hadn’t realized it was cold. She was so nervous about other things, the temperature of the house hadn’t even made the list. “Feels good.”

“You look good,” he said. “Really pretty.”

Cheyenne’s heart skipped a beat. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No. I like you this way.”

When their eyes met, she was afraid he’d see how much his compliment pleased her, so she turned her attention to the glass of wine waiting for her on the table. “How’s Gail doing?” she asked as she walked over.

“Great. She’s happy.” He smiled distantly, as if picturing his sister, then sobered. “I hope to hell Simon continues to treat her right. You know the kind of temptations he faces in Hollywood. He could have his pick of women.”

“He’ll be true to her. He’s as much in love as she is. Besides, he’ll have you to answer to if he doesn’t.”

He grinned at her teasing. “Damn straight. That’s my little sister.”

She tried the wine and liked it. “Do you remember the boy you grabbed by the shirtfront and tossed to the ground when I was a freshman?”

“No.” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Why would I do that?”

“Because he was making fun of my dress.”

“Sounds like he deserved it.”

“It was a pretty ugly dress,” she admitted with a laugh. “Everything about me was ugly back then.”

A contemplative expression came over his face. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re like my big brother, too.”

He paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “Is that how you see me?”

She didn’t know how to answer. Yes would be the safest way to go. But it was also a lie. So she did what she could to avoid a direct reply. “I mean, you’ve never looked at me very critically.”

“I can tell when someone’s attractive, Chey.”

Her mouth went dry. “Of course you can. T-take Eve, for instance. She’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

His eyes never left her face. “Why are we talking about Eve again?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“I know. And she likes me. I get that.” He changed the subject as he glanced away. “Do you have any playing cards?”

She had several packs. Before her mother had gotten too sick to manage a game, they’d often played hearts to distract her from the pain. “In the drawer.”

“Any chance I could challenge you to a game?”

“Which one?”

“Poker?” he suggested with a shrug.

How long did he plan to stay? “Sure. But…what will we bet?”

“I’ll wager dollars toward oil changes and car repairs. Considering what I found when you brought your Olds in last time, it could use some work.”

“It could. But what will I wager? I help run a B and B, so…cooking and cleaning?”

His smile shifted to one side. “I’ll settle for some Christmas cookies and tree decorating the next time my girls are in town.”

“Why settle? You could have cooking, cleaning and decorating.” She smacked the cards on the table. “If you win.”

“I plan on winning,” he confided. “But that would still be settling, since it isn’t what I’d ask for if I could have anything.”

This took Cheyenne by surprise. “What would you ask for?”

He glanced at the sprig of mistletoe Presley had tied to the light fixture over the table. “Peace on earth,” he said with a wink. “So deal.”

7

He was flirting with her. There was no question about that. Cheyenne just didn’t know why. Was he trying to cheer her up? Was he interested in becoming closer friends? Had he stopped by because he’d told his sister that she’d started crying in the grocery store and Gail had asked him to?

He didn’t reveal what he was thinking or feeling, but they talked and laughed and laughed and talked until it grew late. By the time he yawned and said he should go, Cheyenne had lost a lot in tree decorating and cookies, and he wasn’t willing to let her attempt to win it back. All she could do was claim that one day of her baking and tree trimming services was worth an eight-hundred-dollar credit.

“You must be one hell of a Christmas decorator,” he said.

“I am.” She waved toward her only example. “Don’t let that fool you.”

“I’ll suspend my disbelief, for now. You can prove yourself next Saturday.”

“That’s when your girls are coming?”