Glynna Kaye - High Country Holiday

“I’m sorry to hear of your father’s stroke, Cody.”

His jaw, graced with a five o’clock shadow even this early in the morning, hardened. “Bad situation.”

“Is he... Has there been any improvement?”

A humorless smile touched Cody’s lips. “He still can’t talk much. I’d say that’s an overall improvement, wouldn’t you?”

Paris flinched at the candid judgment. While the burly Leroy Hawk could be a charmer when he chose to be, his humor was sometimes biting and unforgiving. She’d often wondered why her father kept him on as an employee.

Clearly, though, there was still no love lost between father and son despite over a decade’s separation. Which wasn’t surprising. In elementary school, Cody had once furtively raised his ragged T-shirt to show her the ugly bruises—but only after he’d made her promise never to tell.

She hadn’t told.

But she should have.

Ignoring Cody’s harsh question, she restlessly moved to the Christmas tree and picked up a box of glass ornaments. “How is your mother holding up?”

Cody had adored Lucy Hawk, and Paris suspected that as a kid he’d deliberately drawn his father’s anger in an effort to protect her from the short-tempered man’s fists.

“Working too hard.”

She always had, and now Leroy’s health setback would make it even harder on her. Paris removed an ornament from the box and hooked a metal hanger into its loop. “I bought the wreath on the door from Dix’s. It’s one of hers. Canyon Springs is fortunate to have her working on the annual Christmas gala this year. She’s a true craftsman—a gifted artist.”

“I’ll let Ma know you think so.”

For several moments, neither of them spoke. What more was there to say that could be said? A tremor of awareness skittered as Cody’s dark eyes remained fixed on her, and she self-consciously hung the ornament on the tree. He’d always looked at her that way. It was in many ways the same look other men had long been known to give her—appreciative of her beauty. But with Cody there had been something else. A tenderness. An almost...reverence.

That had always been her undoing, and she’d long guarded against it. Abruptly she turned toward him. “I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m here to see your father.”

Regarding Leroy’s job security? His insurance? His stroke wasn’t workers’-compensation-related. Everyone in town knew he’d blown last Friday’s paycheck on lottery tickets and booze, then when the multimillion-dollar winning number was drawn—and it wasn’t his—he’d suffered a stroke.

Her own father had seemed more agitated about the whole thing than she would have expected. Had he anticipated this visit from Cody, asking special favors for his father, maybe applying legal pressure?

“I’m afraid Dad left for the Valley this morning. He’ll be gone for a few days. Remember, this is a holiday weekend.”

Cody’s brows lowered.

“He left you here to watch over things?” His glance raked the office, then focused again on her. “All alone?”

Gazing up at the big man, a ripple of unease skimmed her spine. But that kind of thinking was preposterous. Cody might look menacing, but he’d never so much as attempted to lay a hand on her during the years she’d known him. Not even that last day when he’d stepped out of the darkness and frightened her half out of her wits with his crazy talk.

Nevertheless...

“Everett’s here. And Kyle. Or at least they’ll be back in few minutes.” She moved behind the receptionist’s desk, placing a barrier between them. She didn’t know Cody now. She hadn’t really known him back then, either. And although he’d never crossed any lines with her, he was a Hawk.

“I don’t,” he stated, “have business with Everett or Kyle.”

“Perhaps there’s something I can—”

“I need to see your father.”

“I’d be happy to schedule an appointment for Monday.” She did her best to keep her tone cheerful despite his terse responses. She’d warn her dad, of course, so he wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

Cody exhaled a resigned breath. “First thing Monday morning then.”

She opened the scheduling software program. “Nine-thirty?”

“There’s nothing earlier?”

You’d have thought she’d suggested high noon. He’d been an early riser as a kid, with chores to see to before he came to school. Maybe old habits died hard?

“Dad often works late in the evening with clients, so yes, nine-thirty is customary.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t sound as though it were fine, but she typed his name into the database. “May I let him know what the appointment concerns?”

“He’ll know.”

Did he have to sound so confrontational? That wouldn’t go over well with Dad. It didn’t go over well with her, either. Cody might never have had much patience with those in authority, but he’d always been more than polite with her.

As if coming to the same realization, he nodded toward the computer, his tone softening. “I mean, he’ll know I’m here about my father’s situation. I need to find out where things stand regarding his employment status and medical benefits.”

She nodded and made the note. When she glanced up, he was watching her with that look that had been typical of Cody since the first day she’d met him. Self-consciously she ran her tongue along her lower lip. Across the scar.

“Well, you’re all set,” she said with a businesslike clip to her words. “Nine-thirty on Monday morning.”

“Thank you.” He placed his ball cap on his head, zipped his jacket and started to turn away. Then he paused to look down at her once again. “So you’re filling in here while visiting Canyon Springs over the Thanksgiving holiday?”

“I live here. I’m a real estate agent.”

His expression darkened slightly.

“Was there something else?” She held her breath, the pulse in her throat racing as his gaze lingered, indecision flickering through his eyes.

“No.” He shook his head. “Have a good rest of your day, Paris.”

And then he was gone, the sleigh bells chiming a farewell as the door closed behind him.

Exhaling, she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.

Cody Hawk had returned to town.

But he wouldn’t be here for long. He’d made that clear. He had family business to take care of, then would disappear into the night as he’d done a dozen years ago. Thankfully, he hadn’t attempted to express condolences for the death of her fiancé. Nor had he made reference to their last meeting.

When he’d confessed he loved her.

She’d been certain he intended to kiss her that night and, to her shame, she’d wanted him to. But when she’d come to her senses and rejected the outpouring of his heart—as her father would have expected of her—he’d had the audacity to claim that one day he’d return to town and she’d beg him to marry her.

She hurried to the windows to peek between the wooden-louvered slats at a departing Cody. Collar turned up against the wind-driven snow and hands rammed in his jacket pockets, he crossed the street with that same mesmerizing, masculine grace he’d grown into as a teen. He’d been all male from adolescence onward and even the nice girls noticed. But while a nice girl might dream a dangerous dream, in a little town like this she wouldn’t dare throw away her—and her family’s—reputation for a boy with kin like Cody’s.

Paris herself had been more than aware of him those many years ago, aware of his slow, lazy smile and barely-under-the-surface interest evidenced in the way he looked at her. That look had both excited and frightened her youthful heart, for he was a Hawk. Forbidden territory for a Perslow.