Down the Hidden Path Page 13

  Her nose tingled and a fat tear trickled from her eye, down her cheek. Sweet blue eyes trailed the tear until his hand reached to swipe it away. And she was so tired of wiping her own tears, anyway. She was so tired of crying alone with no one to hear and no one to understand or care. Caleb opened his arms and pulled Gray to him. She didn’t fight. She didn’t try to be strong; for once, she could just melt into something more powerful than her sorrow. She could melt into his friendship.

  Two stories below, Jeremiah walked back up the hill with his son beside him. “If it warms up in a couple days, we can go fishing. You like to fish?” But his eyes were on the kitchen window and his heart was pounding because there, standing at the sink, were Gray and Caleb. Too close. Too intimate. Not okay.

  “Never been.”

  Miah stopped. “What?”

  David stopped, too, turned to face him, raised and lowered his hands as if to say, “What’s the big deal?”

  “You’ve never been fishing?”

  “Nope.” David kicked at the smattering of good Missouri rock at his feet.

  “Well, we’ll break you in.”

  David’s shoulders went up then down in a shrug. “’Kay.”

  How could his kid have never been fishing? They lived in the Ozarks, for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t like sports. Doesn’t play video games. Hangs his coat in the closet. Dear Lord, I spawned Donald Trump.

  His gaze trailed back to the window where Gray and Caleb were—he squinted to make out the silhouettes in the onslaught of snowflakes—in each other’s arms. Fire rushed up over his head and down his spine. Miah quickened his pace.

  “Can we build a snowman tomorrow?”

  A request. Finally. “What? Sure. Yeah. A whole family of them if you want.”

  David’s face fell and Miah’s heart dropped into his stomach. Wrong word choice. Crap. He was really bad at this.

  David studied the sky for a few short seconds, his thick lashes blinking back the flakes that sought to land in his eyes. “The weatherman said it wouldn’t be much of an accumulation anyway. No more than a couple inches.”

  “Weatherman, huh? You watch the news?”

  David nodded and met his gaze. “Every night.”

  “Okay. Let’s get inside. We’ve got hot cocoa waiting for us.” As they closed the distance to the back door, the words in over your head kept ringing through Miah’s mind. So far, he’d found nothing, not one thing for the two of them to connect over. This parental thing wasn’t going to be easy. He just hoped it wouldn’t prove impossible.

  CHAPTER 8

  Gray and Caleb had burned the cocoa. Of course they had, with their arms all tangled around each other’s bodies. Miah wanted to curse under his breath at the scent of scalded milk and burnt chocolate—that was sacrilege. Rather than point out their stupidity, he passed them in the kitchen, went straight to the stove, and dumped the cocoa down the sink.

  He shot Caleb a warning look, but his little brother only smiled smugly.

  “Let me show you guys your rooms.”

  David stopped just inside the kitchen door. “We usually know when Gray is cooking. The fire alarm goes off at some point.” A smile toyed at the corner of David’s mouth.

  “It does not.” Gray squared her shoulders, but had to fight a grin of her own.

  Miah was going to have a long talk with Caleb about Gray and propriety and keeping his hungry little fingers to himself. But he didn’t have time for that conversation now. Instead, he took David’s large suitcase and headed up the stairs. He opened the door to the first room on the right and stood back so Gray and David could enter.

  “Miah, when did you have time to do this?” Gray’s amazement sent little sparks over his skin. He ignored them. She angled to face him. “I saw this room not long ago; it was a wreck.”

  “Yeah. Pretty much worked ’round the clock to get it done.” It was a room with a great view of the lake and McKinley Mountain beyond. It had one of the best views in the whole lodge and Miah had thought about fixing it up as his own, eventually. That was before.

  David moved to the window and looked out at the white world. “Wow. Take a look, Gray. You can see Canada from here.”

  She laughed and moved to the window, where mother and son stared out at the world beyond. Something caught in Miah’s throat. “Make yourself at home, champ. I’m gonna show your mom where she’s sleeping. She’ll be close if you need anything. Right across the hall.”

  Gray spun from the window, her hair flowing in an arc around her. “Across the hall? That’s your room.”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yes. I didn’t have time to get another one done.”

  Hands fisted at her sides, she stormed past him. “I’m not putting you out of your room.”

  “It’s just for a night.”

  She stopped to look at him once they were in the hall, eyes pleading and voice low so David wouldn’t hear. “Two nights. You said I could possibly stay two nights, maybe even three if David wasn’t feeling comfortable.”

  Miah bit back a smile and led the way into his master suite. “You don’t want to put me out of my own bed for one night but for two or three it would be okay?”

  Gray bit into her bottom lip. “It’s a lodge. I know there are other rooms.”

  He slid his hands firmly into his pockets, letting her know this was a battle she had no hope of winning. “Would you like to see where I’m sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged and ushered her down the hall and into the far bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, she sucked a breath at the cold draft coming in around the window. Her eyes scanned the space. Mattress on the floor, open rafters. Dust carefully swept to the corners of the room.

  “I can sleep here,” she said, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

  “Yeah, and get pneumonia. No.”

  “Are you immune to pneumonia?” She cocked her head and her hip and, Lord help him, he found it attractive. She was a woman he’d once been intimate with, and she’d be sleeping in his own bed. For a night. The whole of that realization caused the image of her in a flimsy nightgown to flash through his mind, to rake over his flesh and drag his thoughts into a deep pit of both potential pleasure and pain.

  He watched her huff. “Pneumonia, Miah? I asked if you were immune.”

  “I’m a soldier, Gray. Used to adapting.”

  The room was quiet and cold as they stood nose to chest, a silent tug-of-war raging between them. The tough outer shell he’d seen on her since they’d first run into each other seemed fragile tonight, like it had gone through the fire but hadn’t survived. Her eyes softened for the briefest of instants. When he started to reach up and touch her, she turned away from him.

  Gray took a throw blanket he’d dropped at the foot of the bed and walked to the window. “I can see you’re trying with David. I appreciate that.” She tucked the blanket around the bottom of the window, balancing it on the sill.

  “He’s different than I imagined.” He didn’t know what he’d expected, but news watching and weather reports weren’t it.

  “What did you think, Miah? He’d be a carbon copy of you? He’s been raised by a couple who are white collar. They took him to museums, not ballgames. He’s seen the ballet, not monster trucks.”

  Miah stared at the rafters. Far above, a fat spider made a web in one corner. “I’m sure there’s an insult in there somewhere; maybe if I wasn’t such a hillbilly, I’d get it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even go there, McKinley. I know you too well. You’re as smart as you are handsome and though most women find you irresistible, I just find you irritating.”

  One side of his face split into a smile. “At least that hasn’t changed. I’ll try to not ruin David’s pedigree.”

  “Oh, Miah. He’s an amazing young man. You couldn’t r
uin him if you tried.” And with that, Gray walked back to him, patted his cheek and left him in his slightly less drafty room. He crossed to the window and examined her handiwork. Things were warming up between the two of them and though Miah’s heart—as well as his libido—liked that, his mind assured him that was one danger zone he should avoid. He grabbed the blanket from its spot and tossed it on the floor with a scowl. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t easily stay angry with Gray. Even though he knew he should.

  David leaned over to Gray. “We’re not seriously going to eat outside, are we?”

  She gave him her best “I don’t know” look. They were tromping over to Charlee’s place when Gray noticed the warm glow over the treetops. “Look,” she said. It was a soft yellowy hue that brightened the nearby section of sky. When she stepped into the clearing, her breath caught. It was magical. Four outdoor heaters had flames shooting up from them and disappearing into the starlit night above. Tables were ready with plates and cutlery and tablecloths of giant turquoise swirls. At each setting was a steaming cup. Gray rubbed her eyes. Looked again, thinking it would change.

  “Neat, huh?” Jeremiah was right in her ear and though she’d like to swat him like a pesky fly, the heat of his breath sent a visceral reminder down her back that this was in fact real.

  David’s mouth hung open. “Whoa,” he muttered. “Okay. I’ll eat out here.” They passed some giant metal flowers on the way to the tables just as Charlee and two older women appeared carrying trays of food.

  “Hellooooooo,” one of them said, waving with her elbow because her hands weren’t free. Brightly colored spikes topped her head, making her seem younger, but as they approached, Gray could tell the woman must be in her sixties.

  “David, don’t stare.”

  “She’s an old lady, Gray, with liberty spikes.”

  Miah pointed. “The spiky-haired one is Wilma. She paints. The other one is Wynona. She was a dancer back in her glory days.”

  Wynona sidestepped around Jeremiah and spun the tray in her hands. “My boy, these are my glory days.” And then her hips and her skirt were swaying to some imaginary music that must have been lovely, if the look on her face was any indication. Her stream of long hair moved in rhythm to the make-believe tune.

  David took a step back.

  Gray instantly liked her, liked them both, in fact.

  Wynona’s eyes fell on Miah. “And I’m quite sure I could teach you a few moves, young man.” She hip-bumped him.

  He held his hands out in surrender. “No. Please. I’ve heard about what you did to my brother-in-law.”

  “Oh, pish-posh. I gave him grace and helped him get in touch with his inner Fred Astaire. This must be David.” She placed the tray on the table behind her and took David’s hand in both hers. “It’s absolutely divine to meet you, David. I’ve heard some fascinating stories about your birth parents when they were your age.” She winked and leaned closer. “And I’ll tell you some of them when they’re not around.”

  Gray’s heart warmed. Already, they were making David feel welcomed.

  Wynona motioned behind her. “This is my sister, Wilma. But as you get to know us, you’ll realize I’m the fun one. Even though she has the youthful hairdo.”

  Wilma moved to shake David’s hand.

  “Is that colored gel in your hair? I saw some once when I had to go with my mom to her stylist.” Twelve-year-old excitement threaded his words.

  Gray cleared her throat. Manners weren’t usually difficult for him, but he’d been through a lot lately.

  Wilma tilted her head down for David. “Here, touch them. They’re dyed, but I do use that hair product called quick-cement. You could spear a hog with these things.”

  David reached up and laid his hand flat against the spikes. “Man. Like a porcupine.”

  Gray swallowed. If Angela were here, she’d be saying his name right now in that motherly way one should when her child was calling an elderly woman a porcupine. But David was being assimilated into the herd, and Gray needed to stay out of the initiation ritual as much as possible. Introductions were hard enough on awkward preteens. Not so much here, though, she realized as they all sat down to the steaming cups of hot apple cider and homemade steak chili. As the conversations went on, and Gray became slightly more comfortable, her thoughts turned to the night ahead. She’d sleep in Miah’s bed. He’d left little room for discussion or compromise. Gray realized her hand had fallen to her lower stomach, because there, right there in the pit of her being was the ache she’d felt for so long. It was wrapped up in Jeremiah and all that could have been if only . . .

  If only he’d loved her like she had loved him. And now, her worst fears were realized because now she had to share David with the one man who’d devastated her. She wasn’t sure her heart could take sleeping in his bed. In his home. With him right down the hall.

  But it was more than just their past that scared her. It was the way Miah looked at her, even after finding out about David. It was just fleeting moments, but they burned into her consciousness, his gaze fiery hot on her skin. And worse than his glances was how her flesh reacted. Scorched and yet hungry, as if it not only welcomed the flame, but begged for more. When she realized how far her thoughts had trailed, she forced herself to rearrange them, to focus on the dinner. When others laughed at some comment she’d missed, Gray laughed, too, but her eyes betrayed her by trailing to Miah. There, sitting at another table with his hands folded over his taut stomach muscles, he watched her. A sizzle passed over her exposed flesh, lighting a trail as those eyes, golden and flashing in the firelight, crinkled lightly at the corners. She was trapped. And he was smiling.

  Gray pivoted her seat so that Miah was gone even from her periphery. Over the course of the evening she’d discovered David liked Mr. Gruber. Actually, he seemed to like all of them, even King Edward and his turned-up nose and pretentious attitude. Everyone had taken them in, no questions asked. Everyone except Charlee. There was enough commotion going on that no one noticed, but Gray could see, Charlee was still dealing with this news. She’d been gracious to David, thank goodness. But her eyes had skated across the room and found Gray, and from the inside out, Gray had gotten a little chillier. She needed to do what damage control was possible. Friction wouldn’t help David. When Charlee stood and announced she’d clear the plates, Gray stood to help her.

  “That’s not necessary,” Charlee said, stacking plates with a little too much force.

  Gray was as tenacious as the tiny blond, and where David was concerned, she’d toss her manners right out the door if necessary. “Really, I insist,” she said.

  Charlee finally relented. She carried the dishes inside, but the motion was accompanied by an annoyance that was unmistakable.

  Once in the kitchen, Gray sat the dirty cups and silverware on the long stainless counter. “Charlee, I know what you must be thinking, but please . . .”

  Charlee threw three wooden spoons in the large sink and gripped the edge. Tension tightened the muscles in her back, one that had become bone straight at Gray’s words. “No, I don’t think you do.”

  “If you’ll let me explain.”

  Charlee spun on her, blue eyes stormy in the glaring kitchen light. “He was half a world away fighting a war and could have died.”

  She took a couple murderous steps toward Gray. “He could have died and never known he had a child. How do you explain that?”

  Gray pressed her lips together. “I can’t. In fact, it’s unfair for you to even have to listen to me try, so I won’t. You’re right.”

  Charlee’s smooth brow split into a frown.

  Gray shook her head. “You’re absolutely right about all of it. But please don’t take it out on David. He’s innocent. He’s done nothing wrong.”

  Charlee’s hand came to cover her heart. “I would never do that.”

  “Charlee
, I have no right to ask you, but Jeremiah and David and well, me, because I’m in this with them up to my eyeballs—we need you. Miah needs you now more than ever. Please find it in your heart to set your hatred for me aside.”

  Charlee blinked, thick lashes hooding her blue eyes. “I don’t hate you, Gray.”

  Inside, Gray’s stomach was sour. “You’d have every right. It’s my fault your dad never met his grandson.”

  Charlee reeled back and drew a deep lungful of air. Both her hands came up in a stop gesture, blocking Gray, blocking the pain she’d just inflicted. Confusion stole her features for a few long seconds until she shook her head as if trying to settle the comment, make it something not quite as bad as it was. “Are you nuts? You’re asking me to forgive you and move forward, and in the next breath you’re reminding me what you’ve cost my family?”

  Gray raised her hands in the same manner, but on her it meant surrender. “There’s no sense trying to sugarcoat it.”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t do that.” Charlee shook her head again as if she had no possible hope of understanding Gray. Or her motivation.

  “Look, Charlee, I didn’t say anything you haven’t thought about, probably a hundred times since you all found out about David. I just want you to know, you have every right to feel that way. And I’m asking you, no, I’m begging you to lay down your right for his sake.”

  Charlee turned to face her again, but there seemed no more fire in her eyes, just sadness. The sink was filling with soapy water even though there was a commercial-grade dishwasher in the corner. Charlee shut the water off. “I’ll try. For David’s sake. And Jeremiah’s.”

  “Thank you.” It was more than she could have hoped. And far more than she deserved.

  Gray sat straight up in bed, breathing hard. Something woke her. She smelled the residue of a long-gone fire in the fireplace downstairs and Miah’s blasted cologne. It was everywhere in this room, putrefying the sheets, absorbing into her clothes. She’d have to wash them for a week to get the stench out. At least it was only her T-shirt and underwear. She’d left her sweatpants on the foot of the bed. She’d started to get in with them on because the room had been chilly. But she kept thinking of Miah in that cold, half-gutted room down the hall and it seemed wrong to be in his bed and be cozy while he was probably shivering. So instead of wearing the sweats, she’d slid under the blanket, her legs bare and her feet instantly turning into ice blocks. In no time, the warmth of the down comforter had taken her sacrifice to a whole new level as she let her exposed skin move beneath the satiny cotton cloth. This was Miah’s bed. Had he changed the sheets? Probably not; with that, she’d snuggled in deeper, then proceeded to scold herself for doing so.