High Country Holiday

Cody groaned inwardly at the sarcasm with which he’d laced that final word of his tirade. Well, he might be only minutes away from being shown the door, but what choice did he have?

Reluctantly moving to the seating area, he’d barely lowered himself into a burgundy leather chair when the final notes of the classic Christmas choral piece faded away as the woman in the back room wrapped up the conversation. Her lilting tones now clearly reached Cody’s ears.

A viselike sensation tightened around his chest.

It couldn’t be, could it? But that voice...

He stood and moved swiftly to the door. This wasn’t the time or place for a reunion. Not when anyone could walk in on them at any minute. Her dad. A coworker. Her husband.

“May I help you?” a melodious voice called from behind him as he reached for the doorknob.

He tensed, willing his heart to slide down out of his throat and back into his chest. Please let this be a cousin. A long-lost sister. With effort, he turned to look directly into the smoky-gray eyes of a woman far more exquisite than the girl he’d long remembered.

A soft charcoal sweater, jeans, English riding-style boots and dark brown hair pulled loosely into a low ponytail gave her the carefully casual appearance of an American aristocrat. High cheekbones touched by a whisper of rose and delicately arched eyebrows underlined the air of seemingly flawless refinement.

But he knew the satiny gloss on a too-tempting mouth camouflaged a scar acquired in third grade. She’d been running from playground bullies, slipped on a graveled walkway and cut her lower lip. He remembered the day well, his first at the new school as a fifth grader. He’d retaliated on her behalf by bloodying a few noses, got sent home...and forever lost his heart to Paris Perslow.

Or rather, Paris Herrington.

Mrs. Dalton Jenner Herrington III.

* * *

Heart pounding, Paris stared up at the boy she’d known since grade school. A man now. Tall. Muscular. Rugged. A shock of raven hair slashed across his forehead and the high cheekbones gave credence to talk of Native American blood in his ancestry. Sharp, black-brown eyes pierced into hers.

“Remember me, Paris?” His words, tinged with the faintest of Texas accents, held a note of self-deprecating humor as he no doubt recalled their last meeting.

How could she forget him? Not only had he been her self-appointed guardian from third grade onward, raising the ire of teachers, classmates and her father alike, but her last encounter with him had left her more than shaken.

“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?”