Merry and Bright(49)

“Goddammit. You’re just saying that because you sleep with her.”

He smiled, warm and sure. “Well, there is that. But face it, the guy hasn’t done a thing except try to help you, Hope.”

“He came here—”

“Because of his job. And yet once he arrived, in fact from the moment he arrived, he did nothing but try to help. Problem is, you don’t do help, do you?”

He didn’t mean it as a jab. She knew that, but it felt like a red hot stab of poker in her gut just the same because dammit. Was she really that person? Was she that much like Edward? Since she didn’t like the answer to that question, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Danny had come into the room, jacket on, duffle bag over his shoulder. He moved to hug and kiss Lori good-bye, then turned to Hope. “January first,” he said solemnly. “And don’t mistake my softness for his. He won’t be soft if you don’t pay. You know that.”

“You’re not soft,” she whispered.

He looked at her for a long moment but said nothing, and then turned and nodded to Ben. They both went out into the dark, stormy night, where the wind and snow battled to come in until the kitchen door shut.

Closing them out.

The cold didn’t leave Hope, though, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt her eyes swim, and knew the truth. Danny was right. Lori and Ben were right. “Okay, fine. I’m a stubborn ass who’s far too much like the family I resent with all my heart.”

“Yes,” Lori agreed mercilessly. “You are.”

Hope choked out a laugh as outside she heard the snowmobile rev and take off. Her heart did the exact same. “No!” She went running out the door to stop Danny from leaving, and—

Plowed him over into the snow.

They landed hard with him on the bottom.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry!” she cried. “Did I hurt you?”

“No—” He hissed out a breath when she cupped his face with her snowy hands. “Your hands are cold.”

“I’m sorry.” But she didn’t take her hands off him. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him, either. “You aren’t even gone, Danny, and I miss you.”

His eyes seemed to glow behind his glasses. “You . . . miss me?”

“Yeah.”

“But . . . you asked me to leave.”

She sat up and pulled him up with her, keeping her hands on him, noticing with a heavy heart that he didn’t do the same. “You didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He looked at her, his glasses fogged and wet with snow. “First tell me why you came running out of the kitchen like a bat out of hell when you thought I’d left.”

Heart pounding in her ears, she gently pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on her sweatshirt, then replaced them, relieved to see his warm eyes were still warm.

And on her.

“I was wrong,” she whispered, glad Ben was gone and that Lori hadn’t followed her out. She wanted to be alone, no audience for this one. “Really wrong.”

He nodded agreeably. “About anything in particular?”

She stared at him and had to laugh. Wasn’t that just like him to sit there in the snowstorm patiently waiting for her to get her words together? “About getting scared and sending you away.”

“So . . . now you’re not scared?”

“I’ve taken my time letting a guy in before, and gotten royally screwed. Maybe the answer is in trying something different this time. Someone different.” She shook her head at his silence. “Okay, I’m not making sense. Look, the important thing to note here is . . . I’m over myself.”

“Good. So when were you under yourself?”

She looked into his smiling eyes and felt her own helpless smile curve her lips. “I’ve never been good with asking for help, Danny.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

“Turning it down was instinctive,” she admitted. “I wanted to handle things on my own.”

“Understandable.” He reached for her hand, and just like that, the fist around her heart, the one that had been there so long she’d forgotten what it was like to take a full breath, released. “So back to my change in tactic,” she whispered, her voice rough with emotion. “I want your help—not your money. I can’t take your money, but—”

“Hope—”

“I mean, I want you, Danny. Your brain, your sense of humor, your incredible roof-shoveling skills . . .”

His next smile came slow and sure, and he pulled her in for a hug that warmed her from the inside out. “Seems fitting,” he said. “Since I want you, too, temperamental stubbornness and all.”

She pulled back to look into his face, feeling her relieved-smile face. “So . . . I don’t suppose you get to Colorado often.”

“There’s no CPA in town, did you know that?”

“I guess I never noticed.” She found that her throat was tight, almost too tight to talk. “You’d really be happy here?”

“I think it’s the company,” he said with a serious nod. “Though it might be the bears and frozen pipes.”

God, his smile. “Danny.”