Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

“I wanted to make a lot of money.”

“Really? I kind of figured you grew up with money.”

“Hardly.” He snorted. Her brows crinkled, but he damned sure didn’t want her to continue on that track, so he quickly followed with, “Lower middle class. Money never went far enough.”

It was a true statement but not exactly an honest answer to her unasked question.

“So, if your goal was to be rich, why not become a doctor or an accountant or an investment banker or a rock star or any of a hundred other jobs that don’t have such a negative reputation? Why law?”

He had to give the lady points for intelligence. And perseverance. She’d seen right through his flimsy excuse, and he was sure she’d peck at him till she found the truth. She’d have made a great attorney.

Might as well reward her with a slice of the truth.

“As a kid, I was a bit of a runt and always seemed to get the short end of the stick, so I decided early on that I wanted to be powerful and influential enough to ensure I always came out on top.”

“And do you?”

“Most of the time.”

“Huh.” That single grunted syllable sounded very confused, and he expected more questions. Instead, she began building herself a massive sandwich.

He followed suit, all the while conscious of her mind still silently working its way through something. He knew her curiosity wasn’t yet satisfied. What he didn’t know was whether she would pursue more answers.

Halfway through the meal, she put her sandwich down and turned cautious eyes on him.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

More personal than the ones she’d already asked? Hell, that could be dangerous. “You can ask, but I can’t promise to answer.”

She pursed her lips and nodded sagely, as if she understood that some subjects were too tender for words.

“With all your success, do you ever still feel like that little runt who was always getting picked on?” Though she’d asked about him, he knew the hurt little kid she worried about was herself.

Damn, he wanted to toss out a glib response about how he’d buried that pathetic kid decades ago and never thought twice about him anymore, but the raw emotion in her voice and the way her teeth gnawed on her lower lip made it impossible for him to be anything less than truthful.

“As much as I wish I could tell you that my adult successes have vanquished my inner runt, I can’t. The poor squirt still pops up every now and then.”

She released a heavy breath and picked up her sandwich again, but didn’t take a bite. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Half an hour later, Shayna feared her nerves would burst through her skin as she stared at the wintry outlook. Zero percent chance of sunshine for the next two days, a fifty-fifty chance the temperature would creep above freezing sometime Friday afternoon.

The news ended and a car commercial blasted out of her little set. She lowered the volume and twisted on the couch, facing the comfy blue recliner where Kyle sat, the ice pack once again covering his wound.

Seeing him like that threw her mind and her body back to those scorching few minutes in the kitchen. The sight of him sprawled out at her table, looking as if he belonged, had scrambled her brain. For a second she’d forgotten who he was and why he was here. All she’d been able to think about was curling up against that broad, strong chest and kissing the daylights out of him.

Clearing her throat, she nodded toward the whispering television. “It doesn’t look good.”

“It didn’t sound good.” He sat up and laid the ice pack on the coffee table, next to the pieces of her soon-to-be less revealing Ms. Noel costume. “Exactly how long will we be stuck up here, away from civilization?”

“Assuming it doesn’t rain again, just until Saturday.” She plucked up her costume and her sewing kit and settled back into the couch cushions. She needed to get the sleeves and hem tacked up so she could attach the faux fur trim tomorrow.

“Saturday? But the guy said the temp would rise above forty Friday afternoon. Surely the ice’ll melt off the road by then.”

“Yeah, but by then, the icy road won’t be the main problem. We won’t be able to get back to town till the bridge over Shiner’s Gulch thaws, and that’s going to take above-freezing temps and sunshine.”

“You’re telling me a little bad weather and no one can get up or down this blasted mountain. What about emergencies?”

“Usually, if the bridge is impassable, we can get to town the back way, but…well, there was an accident about two miles up the road a few weeks back. Highway department hasn’t gotten it repaired yet.”

Her cheeks warmed as Kyle flashed her a steely look that she bet had caused many a dishonest witness to crumble. “What kind of accident?”

“An explosion. Sort of.”

“Sort of? An explosion is usually one of those things that very definitely is or isn’t. Which was it?”

Drat! She dropped the costume to her lap. Did the man have to cross-examine everything?

“It was a definite accidental explosion.” When she noticed her fingers fidgeting in her hair, she paused, drew a deep breath and forced her hands back into her lap. She would not squirm like a sinner on Sunday.

“Mr. McGuffy goofed his recipe and his still blew up. It landed in the middle of the road. The stuff was so high proof that it burned hot enough to melt the asphalt. Now there’s a giant sinkhole in the middle of the road that you can’t drive around.”

“Moonshine?” he asked incredulously.

“Yep. It’s an old tradition in these parts, a teenaged right of passage, sneaking up the mountain to Mr. McGuffy’s. It’s usually harmless fun, but I’m afraid the tradition is officially over now.”

“I should think so. Do the parents know what’s going on?”

She snickered, totally entertained by his reactions. “Oh, yeah. Most of the people who grew up around here have more than their fair share of McGuffy stories.”

“What about you? I’d imagine living this close you were a frequent customer.”

She shook her head, her stomach turning queasy at the memory. “I only did it once. The year I turned twelve, I tagged along with some older friends. Two couples. I wasn’t really there for the shine, but about halfway through our jar, they become more interested in kissing, so I finished the stuff off by myself. I was sick as a dog for three straight days.”

“At that age, you’re lucky you didn’t get alcohol poisoning.”

“Yeah, that’s what Daddy told me. The next day, he made me work in the yard-in the hot sun-all day. I spent hours puking and pulling weeds.”

Lines crinkled around his eyes, and his dimple danced as he laughed. “Bet you learned your lesson.”

“Darn tooting I did. To this day, I’m not a big drinker. And I never go along with something just because everyone else does.”

“Sometimes the hardest learned lessons are the best,” he remarked.

She shimmied deeper into the couch cushions, a wicked grin splitting her face, surprised to realize she was enjoying Kyle’s company. “That sounds like the voice of experience. Let’s hear it.”

Well, hell. This woman sure knew how to turn a simple conversation into a verbal mine field.

Getting Shayna to drop her guard was one thing, but revisiting his own miserable childhood was another. Still, they were bonding, and even though he hated swapping personal tidbits, if it helped get the job done, Kyle would force himself to bite the bullet.

He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid most of my life experiences aren’t fit for sharing in mixed company.”

“Sooo you were a bad boy, huh?”

“You could say that.” His father sure as hell must have thought so, considering how often the old man smacked him around.