PERFECT (6 page)

The youngest
Kincaid had a head start out of the room, but her older sister rounded her at
the bottom of the stairs and took the lead while their uncle chuckled and shook
his head.

An hour and half later,
after Willa called and said she made it home safely, Dylan yawned and crept up
the stairs toward the second floor landing, trying to pick the sweet spots that
didn’t creak so he wouldn’t wake the girls. The grandfather’s clock in the
living room below chimed its jump to the three-quarter hour. One a.m.
approached.

He pushed open the
door to the girls’ room. The hall light spilled across their beds. Their
angelic faces always managed to erase any worries he had, but tonight he
wondered if he would ever be himself again. He loved the girls to pieces, but
he missed him. He missed sleeping in his own bed. He missed enjoying the quiet
of the early morning and using the time to sit in front of easel and capture on
canvas the woodland bathed in perfect light. There was a lot he missed and yet
the girls gave him so much more.

A picture sitting
on the highboy dresser next to the door caught his eye. He picked up the framed
photo and brought it further into the light. Bob stared back at him, wearing
the expression of a man who had the world in his arms, and he did. Jillian and
Katy each straddled a leg, Bob’s hands around their waists. And at his
brother’s back, was Elizabeth. Her arms circled Bob’s neck and apparently she
had just plastered her red lips against Bob’s cheek.

They were a happy
family.

The photo had been
taken last Christmas. A huge tree stood in the background and the stair railing
was decorated with pine and twinkling lights and red ribbons. This Christmas
was going to be so different for all of them.

Jillian and Katy
were great kids.

Tomorrow he’d get
his ass in gear and start the preparations for a perfect Christmas.

Somehow, the very
moment Dylan Kincaid walked into Whoseher’s General Store, Darcy became aware
of him. It was like she suddenly developed this sixth sense. The weird thing
was the sixth sense only seemed to let her know when the handsome maple-tree
farmer was within a hundred feet of her. It was that sixth sense that caused
her to veer into a side aisle where she hid from sight, watching, taking all of
him in.

She eased back
between the shelves laden with flannel shirts and long john themo-underwear.
There was something about the man that intrigued the hell out of her and maybe
if she studied him for a minute she’d figure it out and be able to limit her
reactions to them. Be in control.

The elderly Mr.
Whoseher’s, who had greeted her as soon as she’d entered the establishment and
sent the little bell attached to the door to tinkle, also greeted Dylan a
cheery, “Good morning”. He hustled around the overstocked counter and made room
for the large wooden crate Dylan carried.

By the rigidity of
his shoulders and upper arms, Darcy could tell the box held some weight.

“I’m sorry I’m
late, Jake. I had to plow out Doris Zippel this morning in addition to Lois
Rehrson and Mr. Scherer.” Dylan ripped off his gloves before whipping off his
tan beanie and smoothing his hair into place. She sort of liked the windswept
look on him. “They all had to get to the church this morning early.”

“Not a problem.
Mabel isn’t making maple candy until tomorrow.” The man’s New England drawl
accentuated the ‘morrow’.

Darcy smiled.
Everyone she’d met so far thought she had the cutest accent, when it was their
enunciations that were totally delightful.

Dylan scanned the
store and Darcy ducked backed out of sight. Had he sensed he was being watched?

“She had to drive
up to Bear Creek today to check on her mother,” the older man continued,
pulling Dylan’s attention back to him. “Power was out in the area overnight. I
guess there were some strong winds in the storm that passed through. Probably
took out a transformer somewhere. God knows there are some old buggers out
there.” Jake lifted a gallon jar filled with dark golden syrup. “I understand
Doris and the others are quilting a special Christmas gift for the Pastor Hank
and his Dotty.”

Dylan gave a low
whistle. “Nice gift.”

“I’d say. Those
ladies do fine work.”

Darcy smiled at
the local gossip exchange, and bent down ever so slightly so she’d have a better
view of Dylan. From his shoulders to his ankles, he was protected from the
chilly temperatures outside by heavy insulated coveralls, like the ones hanging
on the rod behind her. The outfit added significant bulk to his lean, muscular
frame. Yes, she had checked out his body the night before. The boots he wore
added an easy two inches to his height of about five eleven.

“She ordered six
gallons, but I brought eight just in case—”

Chuckling,
Whoseher laid a hand on his belly. “You know my wife. She always runs close.
I’ll take them all. You want me to pay you, or have Mabel send you a check?”

“Actually,” Dylan
said, looking around again. “I need to pick up a few things, so why don’t you
just give me a credit slip to my account.”

“I can do that.”
Dylan turned and Whoseher stopped him. “I know you have a lot on your plate
right now, but I was wondering—your brother Bob always brought the straw for
the nativity scene and since he’s not here, can I count on you to bring us
maybe ten bales?”

“Sure. When do you
need them?”

“Thursday night or
Friday morning. We’re setting up Thursday night though and it sure would be
nice to have them there. That way it’s done. We start our live hours Friday
night.”

“I work at the ski
lodge on Thursday night. If I get a chance, I’ll drop them off before, and if
not, I promise first thing Friday morning.”

“Sounds good.
Thanks.”

Looking like the
holiday stress monkey climbed on his back erasing his Vermont cool demeanor,
Dylan stalked down the aisle in her direction. Darcy ducked behind a pyramid of
boxes containing fleece-lined slippers. Shit. She was hiding in the men’s
department of the store. What excuse could she use for being there? Tom. She
could say she was buying something for Tom for Christmas. Maybe pull Dylan into
a conversation by asking his option.

The sound of
Dylan’s boots slapping the floor came and went, and she eased out of her hiding
spot, catching a glimpse of him as he rounded a corner.

The store was a
maze. According to the painted signage outside on the porch peak, the both
building and business were established in the eighteen forties. The rooms,
obviously, had been added on by previous owners as the general store’s business
had grown. One room led to another and another and eventually the patrons would
find their way back to this section. She could easily leave before Dylan made
his way back here to the front.

Darcy stopped in
mid-step. She was acting like a fool. He was Tom’s friend. She was Tom’s
friend. She really liked his paintings and it would be nice if she told him.
Right?

Right. She was
just going to be neighborly. Nothing more.

With new-found
determination, she grabbed a pack of long underwear off the shelf and headed to
the back of the store, and stopped. This section of the store contained toys.
Toys for his girls.

From the little
Tom told her last night, Dylan had his hands full watching over his nieces and
working. Maybe she should—

Before she had
another thought, Tom came around the aisle and spotted her. A smile bloomed on
his face and then quickly reversed into a thin line. Hesitation labored his
stride as he walked toward her. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“Hi, yourself. I
thought it was you I saw come in.” Nice save Darcy, in case he had seen her
hiding among the wares. “I was searching the men’s section, looking for a
Christmas gift for Tom. I wanted to give him a gift to open on Christmas
morning.”

“You’re staying
for Christmas?”

“Yeah. Tom
convinced me to stay for a while. Until the holidays are over, not much is
going to happen back home, with the fire cleanup. The delay is an opportunity
to give Tom and me a chance to catch up. I’m thinking positively.”

“How’s that
working out for you? Thinking positive, I mean.”

She laughed at his
cocked brow. He was so handsome in a rugged mountain man way. Unruly hair, a
shadow of whiskers by noon, and clothes marred with work. “I’ll be honest. It’s
damn hard. I’d be better off keeping busy. You know? Moving forward.”

“I know exactly
what you mean. I’m not much for sitting around, thinking, myself.” He returned
her smile and warmth seemed to stream out of her core and into every nerve of
her body.

Instantly, she
felt the pull toward him. Keep it friendly, Darcy, a voice in her head shouted.
She dropped her gaze at the dolls he carried in the crook of his arm. “Are
those for your girls?”

“Yeah. My nieces.”

His cheeks turned
crimson which she thought was so cute.

Darcy. She
mentally stamped her foot and dropped her gaze to the floor. Stop it. You can’t
think he’s adorable. Damn, adorable and cute.

“Right, your nieces.
Tom told me about them last night.”

“You asked about
Tom about me?”

Had she seen hope
in his eyes? “You told me you had to get home to the girls. I thought you were
talking about your wife and daughters and I repeated that to Tom. He set me
straight right away.” Should she tell him Tom had this ridiculous notion they
might be perfect for each other? Standing there, staring into his eyes, she was
beginning to think Tom was right.

No. Dylan would
think she was nuts. Guys didn’t think that way. And she didn’t want Dylan
thinking she was flaky.

“So what else did
Tom tell you about us?”

“That you were
taking care of your nieces while your brother and his wife were overseas.
That’s very nice of you, by the way. Most men wouldn’t consider taking care of
a pair of little girls for a day, much less an extended period of time. It’s
very admirable of you.”

It was his turned
to drop his gaze and she wondered if he knew how sexy he looked while flushing
with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

 “I saw your
paintings in the dining room,” she said, pulling her thoughts in another
direction.

“You did?”

“Why didn’t you
tell me you were an artist? They’re wonderful. It’s comforting to look at them.
Have you ever had a showing?”

“No. Not exactly.
Allison Moyer, the head librarian at the library displays a few during harvest
week and a shop down the street also sells a few on consignment.”

“Really? Which
shop? I’d love to see them.”

“It’s Wanda’s
Country Collections and Jams. If you’d like, I could show them to you.”

“I don’t want to
take you away from your shopping.”

He held the dolls
out. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing. I have no clue if the
girls would like these or not. What do you think?”

“I ah—”

“You’re a girl. I
wanted trucks and guns from Santa.”

“Santa, right.
Well…” She took one doll from him and read the box. Decades had passed since
she put her dolls away and she didn’t know Dylan’s nieces, but he looked so
lost, she had to help him out. “How old are the girls?”

“Jillian is smart
seven and Katy is quick five.”

“Smart and quick.
Hmmm.” The dolls looked like real babies, with eyelids that opened and fell
over sparkling glass blue eyes, and black lashes a hooker would be proud of.
One doll had a mop of blonde curls and the other hoisted longer brunette locks.
Their tiny mouths were pink bows. The box said they drank and peed just like
real babies and they even cried and cooed. The dolls would give the girls
something to care for while their parents were overseas. “I think they’re
adorable and spot-on for your nieces’ ages. I had similar dolls at their age. I
think there are cradles and highchairs and strollers that go with them. You
could spend a small fortune with accessories.”

A grin bloomed on
his face, making her heart light. She’d said the right thing.

“Would you mind
helping me pick out a few other things for the girls? It really would help me
out. Unless you have to be somewhere.”

“No.” She shook
her head, anxious for the opportunity to spend time with him. “Tom said I
should call when I want him to pick me up.”

“He dropped you
off here?”

“Yeah. My car is
thawing out in his garage. I guess I didn’t have enough antifreeze in it. I’m a
chef, not an auto mechanic and apparently the guy who checked the level for me
isn’t one either.”

“You don’t want to
hang out with him? Tom, I mean. Not the mechanic.”

“I didn’t want to
hang out at the Grist Mill. I could’ve stayed and worked beside Tom. We always
had a great time while working together, and normally I really wouldn’t mind,
but I knew working in that atmosphere would bring up memories of…” Damn. Just
that quick her throat clogged with emotion.