Her Holiday Prince Charming Read online

  Like you, she was sure he’d been about to say, only to be cut off by the quick-but-subtle slicing motion Erik made across his own throat.

  “...else,” he hastily concluded. “But if Erik’s going to teach you the ropes,” he hurried to add, “I’m sure you don’t have a thing to worry about. The guy’s got the patience of Job.”

  Meaning he thought she was going to require...what? she wondered, swinging her glance to Erik. Patience of biblical proportions?

  Erik pointedly ignored her. “Are you going to help me move this, Merrick?”

  “Absolutely. I’m on it.”

  As if wanting to muffle his partner, Erik motioned to the furniture the large piece blocked. “As soon as we get this out of the way, we’ll take up your son’s dresser,” he told her. “Where do you want those bookcases?”

  “In the spare room across from Tyler’s.” Please, she might have added, but his friend’s insinuation still stung.

  “Is there a bed that goes in there?”

  “I don’t have a spare bed anymore.” She nodded toward the headboard and nightstands an aisle over with the same carving as the armoire. “That’s a set we had in a guest room. I’ll use it for my room now.”

  She’d sold the bed she’d slept in with Curt for so many years. Its new owner had picked up all the master bedroom furnishings the morning her movers had come. She’d sold the bulk of her other possessions to an estate broker she’d met at the country club to which she no longer belonged. Had it not been for Tyler, she’d have sold everything and bought only what she’d need to start over. But too much had changed for him already for her to indulge the need she felt to shed all the reminders of a life that no longer was.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hand through her hair and looked over to see Erik still watching her.

  “I take it you’ve downsized.”

  “You have no idea,” she murmured back.

  She couldn’t imagine what he saw in her expression, but she saw something in his that looked remarkably like understanding. It was as if he knew what it was like to walk away from the trappings and reminders of a former life. Whether he’d had no choice or the choice had been solely his, she had no idea. All she felt with any certainty as he shoved up his shirtsleeves to get back to work was that he wanted no part of those reminders now.

  The realizations gave her pause. As she turned away herself and headed inside to pick up the posters, so did her disquiet over his partner’s unwitting revelations. The fact that Erik had obviously implied to his friend that she would require considerable patience was merely annoying. She also questioned just how patient he actually was, given his steamroller approach to getting her things moved out of his way. But what truly troubled her was what his friend had said about her mentor’s grandparents having been there for so long.

  She hadn’t even considered what her neighbors and customers would think of someone new running a business that might well be some sort of institution in the area. She’d already been wondering if she could keep it open year-round, and added that to her list of questions for Erik. Her newly heightened concerns about fitting in she’d have to add later, though, when she wasn’t busy keeping Tyler out of the way of all the testosterone hauling bedroom furniture up the stairs.

  Every time they clamored up the stairs and down the hall with another piece of something large, he’d dart to the door of his new bedroom to watch them go by.

  Pax joked with him, noticeably at ease with small children. Erik, preoccupied, said even less to him than when he’d been around him before. He’d given him a half smile on their first pass, which had put a shy grin on Tyler’s face, then barely glanced at him at all.

  Because her little boy continued to wait in his doorway for “the man with the boat,” it soon became painfully apparent that Tyler was hoping Erik would acknowledge him again—which had her feeling even more protective than usual when he asked if he could help him.

  “I don’t think so, sweetie. They’re in a hurry,” she explained, brushing his sandy hair back from his forehead. “When people get in a hurry, accidents can happen.”

  “If I be careful can I help?”

  Erik heard the tiny plea drift down the hallway. Focused on getting Rory’s possessions out of the way of the inventory, he’d paid scant attention to the child other than to make sure he wasn’t where he could get something dropped on him.

  But now they needed tools. Deciding to save himself a trip and do something about the dejection he’d heard in that small voice, he called, “Hey, Tyler. Can you do something for me?”

  A nanosecond later, little footsteps, muffled by carpeting, pounded down the hall.

  Tyler appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom, shoving his hair back from the expectation dancing in his eyes. Rory was right behind him, unmasked concern in hers.

  Erik crouched in his cargos, his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees. Behind him, Pax continued squaring the bed frame to the headboard.

  Rory’s glance fixed on his as she caught her son by his shoulders. “What do you need?”

  Whatever it was, she seemed prepared to do it herself. She had mother hen written all over her pretty face.

  “Let him do it. Okay?”

  The little boy tipped his head backward to look up at his mom. “Okay?” he echoed. “Please?”

  For a moment, she said nothing. She simply looked as if she wasn’t at all sure she trusted him with whatever it was he had in mind, before caving in with a cautious okay of her own.

  It didn’t surprise him at all that, physically, she hadn’t budged an inch.

  “There’s a red metal box at the bottom of the stairs,” he said to the boy. “It has socket wrenches in it. It’s kind of heavy,” he warned. “Do you think you can bring it up?”

  With a quick nod, Tyler turned with a grin.

  “No running with tools!” Rory called as he disappeared out the door.

  “’Kay!” the boy called back, and dutifully slowed his steps.

  Caught totally off guard by what Erik had done, Rory looked back to the big man crouched by her bed frame. He was already back to work, he and his partner slipping the frame parts into place and talking about how much longer it would take them to finish.

  Not wanting to be in their way herself, she backed into the hall, waiting there while Tyler, lugging the case with both hands, grinning the whole while, made his delivery.

  When he walked back out of the room moments later, his expression hadn’t changed. She couldn’t remember the last time her little boy had looked so pleased. Or so proud.

  “Erik said I did good.”

  She knew. She’d heard him.

  “Can I show him my boat?”

  “Maybe some other time. He’s really busy right now,” she explained, then added that she really needed his help finishing his room.

  Helping his mom wasn’t nearly the thrill of helping the guys. Especially when Erik called for him again ten minutes later, this time to carry down the tools he’d had him bring up.

  From where she stood on a chair adjusting the ties on a primordial-forest curtain valance, she watched Tyler walk by his bedroom door with both hands again gripping the handle of the red metal box. Right behind him came Erik, telling him he’d take the box when they got to the stairs so he wouldn’t lose his balance with it.

  Right behind Erik, Pax paused and poked his head into the room.

  “I’ve got to run, Rory. No need to stop what you’re doing,” he called, because she’d done just that. “We have a client’s Christmas party tonight or I’d stick around and help. Erik’s going to finish up.”

  She’d forgotten they had plans. Groaning at the lapse, she left the last tie undone and headed for the door.

  Erik had disappeared into the store. Ty
ler, now empty-handed, stood in the entryway as Pax passed him, ruffling his hair on the way.

  “What can I do to repay you?” she called.

  “Do you bake?”

  “What’s your favorite cookie?”

  “Any kind that goes with coffee.” Grinning, he disappeared, too.

  Erik eyed his buddy as Pax walked into the store. “If she has any spare time,” he insisted, setting the toolbox on the counter, “she’ll need to spend it out here.”

  “Hey,” his shameless partner said with a shrug, “if she wants to bake me something, it’d be rude to refuse. So how much longer will you be?”

  Erik flatly rejected the odd sensation that hit out of nowhere. It almost felt like protectiveness. But just whom he felt protective of, he had no idea. The woman wasn’t Pax’s type at all. “Half an hour at the most.”

  “You taking a date tonight?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, the word oddly tight. “What about you?”

  “I’m leaving my options open. I’ll cover for you if you need more time,” he added, his smile good-natured as he headed out the store’s front door.

  Erik wished he’d left his options open, too. Though all he said to his partner was that he’d catch up with him at the party and turned back to what was left of his task.

  The aisles were finally clear. The inventory visible. Except for the large armoire they’d moved to the empty space near the front door and the boxes and bins Rory had said she didn’t need just yet, mostly those marked Christmas, nothing else needed to be carried in. Except for her monster of a dining table, which they’d put in place, he and Pax had carried the rest of the furniture in and left it all wherever it had landed in the living room.

  His briefcase still lay on the checkout counter’s marred surface, its contents untouched.

  Burying his frustration with that, he glanced up to see her watching him uneasily from the inner doorway. More comfortable dealing with logistics than whatever had her looking so cautious, he figured the furniture in the living room could be pushed or shoved into place. It didn’t feel right leaving her to do it alone. It wasn’t as if she’d call a neighbor for help with the heavier pieces. She didn’t even know them. And she’d seemed inexplicably reluctant to call in a friend.

  “Where do you want the sofa? Facing the window?” That was where his grandparents had always had theirs.

  Rory wanted it to face the fireplace. She just wasn’t about to impose on him any more than she already had.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she insisted, because he had that purposeful set to his jaw that said he was about to get his own way. Again.

  “What about the big cabinet?”

  “It’s fine where it is. For now,” she conceded, not about to tell him she wanted it moved across the room to the stair wall. “I’m hugely grateful for your help with all this, Erik. And for your friend’s. But I’d just as soon not feel guiltier than I already do for having used your time like this. You came to work on the business. Not to help me move in. You need to go now.”

  One dark eyebrow arched. “I need to go because you feel guilty?”

  “You need to go because you have a date.”

  She’d obviously overheard his conversation with his partner. Not that it mattered. Like Pax’s unveiled allusion to the care and feeding Erik had told him he was sure she’d require, nothing had been said that he’d rather she hadn’t heard. He’d bet his boat she already suspected he wasn’t crazy about being there, anyway.

  “Right.” He wasn’t in the habit of leaving a woman waiting. “We’ll get to the inventory later this week. I won’t have time until Friday.”

  “Friday will be fine. I’ll be here. And thank you,” she added again, touching his arm when he started to turn away. The moment he turned back, she dropped her hand. “For letting Tyler help,” she explained. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in a really long time.”

  Thinking the cute little kid had just wanted to be one of the guys, he murmured, “No problem,” and picked up the toolbox and his briefcase. There was no reason for her to be looking all that grateful. Or all that concerned.

  Still, as he told her he’d call her later and turned for the door, adding, “Bye, sport,” for the little boy who’d just appeared behind his mom, cradling a toy boat, he really wished he didn’t have the date with the bubbly event planner he’d taken out a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t know the striking blonde all that well, but she’d been easy on the eyes, into sailing and, had he been interested in pursuing her hints, not at all opposed to a little casual sex.

  He just hoped she’d need to make it an early evening so there’d be no awkwardness at her door. His head wasn’t into games tonight. He wasn’t much up for a party, either, though he wasn’t about to stand up a client.

  For reasons he didn’t bother to consider, what he wanted to do was stay right where he was.

  Chapter Four

  The last thing Rory wanted Friday morning was to be late for her meeting with Erik. Or for him to be on time.

  As she turned her car into her gravel parking lot, she realized she wasn’t getting her wish on either count.

  She’d also just confirmed her suspicions about the gleaming white seaplane she’d seen tied to the dock at the bottom of the rise. It was Erik’s. He was on her porch, leaning against a post.

  The fact that her mentor flew his own plane meant that he hadn’t had to queue up for the ferry or get caught in traffic the way she and the rest of the mortals had crossing the sound and navigating surface streets that morning. It also meant that it had only taken him minutes to make the flight that was now a ninety-minute-each-way expedition for her to Tyler’s school.

  Hating that she’d caused him to wait, she left her little car in the otherwise empty lot in front of the store rather than park it in her garage and hurried toward where he’d straightened from the post. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was the last car off the ferry,” she called, praying he hadn’t been there long. They’d agreed on eleven o’clock. It was only a few minutes after. Still... “How long have you been here?”

  The ever-present breeze ruffled his dark hair as he pushed his cell phone into a front pocket of his jeans and picked up his worn briefcase.

  “Long enough to figure out you weren’t going to answer the back door or the one to the mudroom. I didn’t realize you’d be gone. I was just going to call you.”

  His cloud-gray eyes slid from hers as a muscle jerked in his jaw. His skin looked ruddy from the chill. In deference to the cold, he wore a leather flight jacket—open, though, as if in defiance of the need for it.

  She hadn’t thought of him as defiant before. Or rebellious, or rash, or anything that might even hint at irresponsibility. He seemed too much in control of himself for that. Yet the finely honed tension surrounding him alluded to a sort of restiveness that implied far more than his impatience with her, and made her acutely aware of how restless a man with flying and sailing in his blood might be. Restless. Daring. Bold.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything that wasn’t tempered by the numbness that lingered deep inside her. And she’d never felt bold in her life.

  What she felt most was simply the need to keep pushing forward. Especially now. Forward was good. Looking back made it too easy to fall apart.

  He didn’t need to know that, though. As she crossed the porch planks, searching her crowded key ring for the unfamiliar key, she figured all he needed to know was that she would make this venture work. Exactly how she would do that was as much a mystery to her as the dawn of creation, but she figured the basics would be a good place to start. And basically, she knew she needed this man to help make it happen.

  His footsteps echoed heavily as he came up beside her, his big body blocking the wind whipping at her hair. “Where’s your s
on?”

  “At school. He only has tomorrow and next week before winter break, so we’re commuting.”

  “To Seattle?”

  Conscious of him frowning at the top of her head, she tried to remember if the key she’d just selected was for the store’s front door, its emergency exit, the door to the house or the side door to the garage.

  “I don’t want him to miss working on the holiday projects with the other kids. He already missed the first of the week because of the move and he really wants to help decorate the school’s big tree.” He wanted a big tree, too, he’d told her. A huge one. How she’d make huge happen currently fell in the mystery category, too. “Since he won’t be going back there after Christmas, it’s about the only thing keeping his mind off the need to change schools right now.”

  “How long does that take you?”

  “An hour and a half, if you include queuing up for the ferry.”

  “You’re spending three hours over and back in the morning, and another three hours every—”

  “That’s just today,” she hurried to assure him. “I’ll usually only make the round-trip once. Kindergarten is only four hours, so I’ll run errands while he’s there.” And maybe see if she could slip into her friend Emmy’s yoga class, since seeking calm seemed more imperative by the moment. “A friend is picking him up with her son this afternoon. He’ll play at their house until I get there.”

  His tone went flat. “So you came all the way back just to keep this appointment.”

  “You said it was the only time you had this week.”

  “You could have told me you’d be in Seattle,” he insisted. “I never would have expected you to come back here for this.”

  “You said we had to go over the inventory. We have to do that here, so there was no point in mentioning it.”

  The key didn’t work. Her head still down, his disapproval doing nothing for her agitation, she picked out another.

  Before she could try that one in the lock, Erik reached over and snagged the wad of keys by the purple rhinestone-encrusted miniflashlight dangling below them.