A Husband For Christmas: Snow Kisses / Lionhearted

“I was so glad when you decided to come.” Melly sighed over coffee while she and Abby sat in the sprawling living room. It had changed quite a bit since Cade’s mother died. The delicate antiques and pastel curtains had given way to leather-covered couches and chairs, handsome coffee tables and a luxurious, thick-piled gray rug. Now it looked like Cade—big and untamed and unchangeable.

“Sorry,” Abby murmured when she realized she hadn’t responded. “I had my mind on this room. It’s changed.”

Melly looked concerned. “A lot of things have. Cade included.”

“Cade never changes,” came the quiet reply. The taller girl got to her feet with her coffee cup in hand and wandered to the mantel to stare at a portrait of Donavan McLaren that overwhelmed the room.

Cade was a younger version of the tall, imposing man in the painting, except that Donavan had white hair and a mustache and a permanent scowl. Cade’s hair was still black and thick over a broad forehead and deep-set dark eyes. He was taller than his late father, all muscle. He was darkly tanned and he rarely smiled, but he could be funny in a dry sort of way. He was thirty-six now, fourteen years Abby’s senior, although he seemed twice that judging by the way he treated her. Cade was always the patronizing adult to Abby’s wayward child. Except for that one magic night when he’d been every woman’s dream—when he’d shown her a taste of intimacy that had colored her life ever since, and had rejected her with such tenderness that she’d never been ashamed of offering herself to him.

Offering herself... She shuddered delicately, lifting the coffee to her lips. As if that would ever be possible again, now.

“How is Cade?” Abby asked.

“How is Cade usually in the spring?” came the amused reply.

“Oh, I can think of several adjectives. Would horrible be too mild?” Abby asked as she turned.

“Yes.” Melly sighed. “We’ve been shorthanded. Randy broke his leg and won’t be any use at all for five more weeks, and Hob quit.”

“Hob?” Abby’s pale brown eyes widened. “But he’s been here forever!”

“He said that was just how he felt after Cade threw the saddle at him.” The younger woman shook her head. “Cade’s been restless. Even more so than usual.”

“Woman trouble?” Abby asked, and then hated herself for the question. She had no right to pry into Cade’s love life, no real desire to know if he were seeing someone.

Melly blinked. “Cade? My God, I’d faint if he brought a woman here.”

That did come as a surprise. Although Abby had visited Melly several times since she’d moved to New York, she had seen Cade only on rare occasions. She’d always assumed that he was going out on dates while she was on Painted Ridge.

“I thought he kept them on computer, just so that he could keep track of them.” Abby laughed.

“Are we talking about the same man?”

“Well, he’s always out every time I come to visit,” Abby remarked. “It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him.” She sat back down on the sofa next to her sister and drained her coffee cup.

Melly shot her a keen glance, but she didn’t reply. “How long are you going to stay?” she asked. “I never could pin you down on the phone.”

“A couple of weeks, if you can put up with me....”

“Don’t be silly,” Melly chided. She frowned, reaching out to touch her sister’s thin hand. “Abby, make it a month. At least a month. Don’t go back until you feel ready. Promise me!”

Abby’s eyes closed under a tormented frown. She caught her breath. “I wonder if I’ll ever be ready,” she whispered roughly.

The smaller hand that was clasping hers tightened. “That’s defeatist talk. And not like you at all. You’re a Shane. We wrote the book on persevering!”

“Well, I’m writing the last chapter,” Abby ground out. She stood up, moving to the window.

“It’s been two weeks since it happened,” Melly reminded her.

“Yes,” Abby said, sighing wearily. “And I’m not quite as raw as I was, but it’s hard trying to cope....” She glanced at her sister. “I’m just glad I had the excuse of helping you plan the wedding to come for a visit. What did Cade say when you asked if it was all right?”

Melly looked thoughtful. “He brightened like a copper penny,” she said with a faint smile. “Especially when I mentioned that you might be here for a couple of weeks or more. It struck me at the time, because he’s been just the very devil to get along with lately.”

Abby pursed her lips thoughtfully. “He probably has the idea that I’ve lost my job and came back in disgrace. Is that it?”

“Shame on you,” her sister replied. “He’d never gloat over something like that.”

“That’s what you think. He’s always hated the idea of my modeling.”

Melly’s thin brows rose. “Well, no matter what his opinion of your career, he was glad to hear you’d be around for a while. In fact, he was in such a good mood, all the men got nervous. I told you that Hob had just quit. Too bad he didn’t wait an extra day. Cade’s bucking for sainthood since I announced your arrival.”

If only it were true, Abby thought wistfully. But she knew better, even if Melly didn’t. She was almost certain that Cade avoided her on purpose. Maybe it was just her sister’s way of smoothing things over, to prevent a wild argument between Cade and Abby. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d played peacemaker.

She glanced sharply into her sister’s green eyes. “Melly, you didn’t tell Cade the truth?” she asked anxiously.

Melly looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly,” she confided. “I just said there was a man...that you’d had a bad experience.”

Abby sighed. “Well, that’s true enough. At least I’ll be down at the homestead with you. He shouldn’t even get suspicious about why I’m here. God knows, it’s always been an uphill fight to keep peace when Cade and I are in the same room together, hasn’t it?”

Melly shifted suddenly and Abby stared at her curiously.

“I’m afraid you won’t be staying at the homestead,” Melly said apologetically. “You see, my house is being painted. Cade’s having the old place renovated as a wedding present.”

Abby felt a wave of pure tension stretch her slender body. “We’ll be staying...here?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when I asked to come?” Abby burst out.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t come,” Melly replied.

“Will Cade be away?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? In the spring, with roundup barely a month away?”

“Then I’ll go somewhere else!” Abby burst out.

“No.” Melly held her fast. “Abby, the longer you run away the harder it’s going to be for you. Here, on the ranch, you can adjust again. You’re going to have to adjust—or bury yourself. You do realize that? You can’t possibly go on like this. Look at you!” she exclaimed, indicating the shapeless dress. “You don’t even look like a model, Abby, you look like a housekeeper!”

“And that’s a fine thing to say about me,” came a deep but feminine voice from the doorway.

Both girls turned at once. Calla Livingston had her hands on her ample hips, and she was wearing a scowl sour enough to curdle milk. She was somewhere near sixty, but she could still outrun most of the cowboys, and few of them crossed her. She took her irritation out on the food, which was a shame because she was the best cook in the territory.

“And what do I look like, pray tell—the barn?” Calla continued, ruffled.

Melly bit her lip to keep from smiling. Dressed in a homemade shift of pink and green, her straggly gray hair pulled into a half bun, her garter-supported hose hanging precariously just above her knees, Calla was nobody’s idea of haute couture. But only an idiot would have told her that, and Melly had good sense.

“You look just fine, Calla,” Melly soothed. “I meant—” she searched for the right words “—that this isn’t Abby’s usual look.”