Susan Mallery - Christmas In Whitehorn

Blood flowed south with a speed and intensity that made him grit his teeth. Damn. Why did he have to notice Darcy was attractive? He’d managed to avoid that particular truth for the past couple of months they’d been neighbors.

“Where’s your family?” he asked, determined to ignore the pressure from his body. He willed away his desire.

“My folks died five years ago.”

He didn’t say anything. His parents had died, as well, but he wasn’t about to bond with her over the fact. He didn’t want anything in common with her. Was it just him, or was it hot in here?

“Can I get you something?” Darcy asked. “Tea? Cookies?”

“Made with whole-wheat flour and tofu? No thanks.”

She laughed. “While I do make the cookies myself, I promise I use very normal ingredients.”

“You probably consider tofu normal.”

“Not when I bake. Although I’ve used carob before, if that counts.”

He couldn’t begin to imagine what carob was. “I need to be getting back.”

She followed him to the door. “Thanks for helping me, Mark. I’m sure I could have wrestled Mr. Turkey inside myself but it was nice not have to mess with him.”

The top of her head didn’t even clear his shoulders. She looked innocent and wholesome. He had no business being here.

“Look, Darcy…”

He paused, not sure how to tell her he wouldn’t make it for Thanksgiving dinner. He wasn’t very social these days and he couldn’t imagine anything more torturous than eating with five people he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

Her blue eyes stared at him, while the corners of her full mouth turned up slightly. She had perfect skin. Clear, pale and nearly luminous. But the worst of it was the complete trust in her eyes. He had a bad feeling that she’d never told a white lie, let alone a really soul-threatening one. He felt as if he was about to kick a puppy.

His shoulders slumped. “Do you want me to bring anything for Thursday? Like wine?”

“Wine would be nice. I know absolutely nothing about it.”

He nodded and left without looking at her. He didn’t want to see her smiling at him as though he’d just done something amazing.

After he entered his own apartment, he stretched his cooling muscles, then headed down the tiny hall. Once in his bathroom, he tugged off his T-shirt and the thermal shirt underneath. Bare chested, he stared into the mirror.

The scar from the bullet wound in his side was still red and thick. He probed at it, remembering how the doctors had told him he’d been lucky. A few millimeters toward the center and he would have lost a major organ or two. Sylvia had been aiming for his heart. As it was, he’d nearly bled to death. He bent down to massage his leg. That bullet wound didn’t give him nearly as much trouble as it had even a month ago.

When he’d been in the hospital, a lot of the guys from the precinct had come by to visit, most of them teasing him that bullet scars were a chick magnet. Somehow he couldn’t see a woman like Darcy cooing over his injuries. She’d probably take one look and pass out. Not that he planned on showing her anything.

He straightened and turned on the water, then pulled off the rest of his clothes. As he stepped into the steaming shower, he reminded himself that, however much he found Darcy attractive, he wasn’t about to go there. As he’d already learned the hard way, getting involved with a woman could be fatal.

The great room at the Madison School was nearly forty feet square, with a huge rock fireplace in one wall. Half a dozen sofas formed conversation groups, while card tables set up around the perimeter of the room offered places to play different games. The high-beamed ceiling added to the open feel of the space. The smell of wood smoke mingled with the lingering scent of popcorn from last night’s snack.

Darcy sat on a sofa in the corner, her feet tucked under her, listening intently as her brother, Dirk, described everything he’d packed in his suitcase.

“I even remembered my brush and comb,” he said proudly.

Darcy’s heart swelled with love for him as she studied his familiar face. They both had blue eyes and blond hair, but Dirk’s features were more masculine. And as much as it tweaked her ego, she had to admit he was the better looking of the siblings. At fourteen, he should have been suffering from skin troubles and a cracking voice. Instead he appeared to be making the transition into adolescence and manhood with little pain. He was growing steadily, which kept him lean, his skin was clear and she noticed the faint hint of a beard on his chin. Her baby brother was growing up.

“I’m impressed with your packing skills,” she said sincerely. “I have never taken a trip without forgetting something. Remember, when I went off to college and left all my registration stuff at home?”

Dirk laughed. “Mom had to bring it to you and she got real mad. You were in trouble on your first day.”

Darcy smiled at the memory, even as she tried to remember what it had felt like to be so irresponsible. Life had been easy back then—the world had been at her beck and call. Not anymore.

“You’re rarely in trouble,” she said.

Dirk beamed. “I can remember all the rules. Some of them are dumb, but I follow them. I like it here, Darcy. I want to stay.”

“I know.” She leaned forward and took his hand in hers. “You will stay right up until you’re ready to be on your own.”

He looked doubtful at the prospect. Darcy didn’t blame him. Self-sufficiency was years away for him, but the Madison School was one of the best in the country. The well-trained staff specialized in helping developmentally disabled teens become happy, productive adults. The process could take years, but Darcy was prepared to be patient. All the reports so far had been positive. Besides, Dirk was worth it.

“In the meantime,” she continued, “I guess you’re going to travel the world, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “I’m not going to see the world. Just Chicago.”

He made it sound like no big deal, but she saw the excitement brightening his eyes.

“Andrew says it’s cold there, so I’m taking my warmest jacket,” he continued. “You bought it for me last month. Remember?”

Darcy nodded.

“We’re going to sleep on the train. Andrew says the hotel will have a Turkey dinner for us when we get there.”

“I want to hear all about it,” Darcy said. “Will you write in your journal so you can remember everything?”

He nodded. “I have the camera you gave me for my birthday. I’m going to take lots of pictures.”

“Oh. That reminds me.” Darcy bent down and fished through her purse. She pulled out a three-pack of film for his camera. “This is for you.”

Dirk looked at the gift, then at her. “Darcy?”

She knew what he was asking—what worry drew his brows together and made him study her so carefully. Her brother might have the slow, studied air of someone out of step with the mainstream world, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that money had been tight for them for a long time. While he didn’t know what the school cost her or how many nights she stared into the darkness and prayed she would be able to hold it all together, he guessed that life still wasn’t easy for her.

She gave him a quick hug. “It’s just film, Dirk. I can afford it.”

He still looked worried when she released him. “I have my allowance. I can pay you back.”

“No. That’s your money. Spend it on something for you. Oh, but if you want to bring me back a postcard from Chicago, I wouldn’t say no.”

He nodded. “I’ll bring you two.”

“That would be great.”

He took the film she offered and turned the boxes over in his hands. In his chambray shirt and worn jeans, he looked like any other fourteen-year-old. But he wasn’t. His difficulties had become apparent within the first year of his life. Darcy’s parents had despaired, but Dirk’s uniqueness had only made her love him more.