That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(10)

Carrie resisted the urge to place her arm around Mackenzie’s shoulders.

“How about a movie?” Philip suggested abruptly. “I can’t remember the last time we went together.”

“Really?” Mackenzie jerked her head up.

“Sure. Any one you want.”

She mentioned the current Disney picture. “Can Doug and Dillon come, too?”

“Sure.” Philip smiled affectionately at his daughter.

“And Carrie?”

“I…couldn’t,” she interjected before Philip could respond.

“Why not?” Doug asked. “You said we’re all done with the cookies. A movie would be fun.”

“You’d be welcome,” Philip surprised her by adding. His eyes held hers and the offer appeared genuine. Apparently he felt that with three young chaperones, there wouldn’t be a problem.

“You’re positive?”

“Of course he is,” Mackenzie said. “My father doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, isn’t that right, Dad?”

“Right.” He sounded less confident this time.

Carrie was half tempted to let him take the kids on his own but changed her mind. Doug had a point; a movie would be a great way to relax after the hectic activity of the morning.

The five of them would be at the show together—and what could be more innocent? But the moment they entered the theater and had purchased their popcorn, the three kids promptly found seats several rows away from Philip and Carrie.

“But I thought we’d all sit together,” Carrie said, loudly enough for Doug and Dillon to hear. Desperation echoed in her voice.

“That’s for little kids,” six-year-old Dillon turned around to inform her.

With the theater filling up fast, the option of sitting together soon disappeared. Carrie settled uneasily next to Philip. Neither spoke. He didn’t seem any happier about this than she was.

“Do you want some popcorn?” Philip offered, tilting the overflowing bucket in her direction.

“No, thanks,” she whispered, and glanced at her watch, wondering how much longer it would be before the movie started. “I certainly hope you don’t think I arranged this,” she whispered.

“Arranged what?”

“The two of us sitting together.” She’d hate to have him accuse her of anything underhanded, which, given his apparent penchant for casting blame, he was likely to do. On the other hand, she was the one who’d unwittingly put the matchmaking notion in Mackenzie’s head. What a fool she’d been not to realize the impressionable teenager would pick up on the ploy she’d used on her own mother.

“Why would I blame you?” he asked, sounding exasperated.

“Might I remind you of our last conversation?” she said stiffly. “You seemed to think there was some danger of me, uh, seducing you.”

Philip laughed out loud and didn’t look the least bit repentant. “It wasn’t myself I was worried about,” he explained. “I was afraid of Mackenzie making both our lives miserable. If I seemed rude earlier, I apologize, but I was protecting us from the wiles of my headstrong daughter.”

That wasn’t how Carrie remembered it….

“I’m not going to let my daughter do my courting for me,” he said, as though that explained everything. “Now relax and enjoy the movie.” He tilted the popcorn her way again, and this time Carrie helped herself.

The theater lights dimmed as twenty minutes of previews began.

Somewhat to Carrie’s surprise, she loved the movie, which was an animated feature. She was soon completely immersed in the plot. Philip laughed in all the places she did and whatever tension existed between them melted away with their shared enjoyment.

When the movie ended, Carrie was sorry there wasn’t more. While it was true that she’d enjoyed the story, she also found pleasure sitting with Philip. In fact, she liked him. She’d almost prefer to find something objectionable about him—a nervous habit, a personality trait she disliked, his attitude. Something. Anything that would distract from noticing how attractive he was.

He’d made it as plain as possible that he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. With anyone, if that was any comfort. It wasn’t. She wanted him to be cold and standoffish, brusque and businesslike. The side of him she’d seen at the movie was laid-back and fun-loving. But she knew Philip hadn’t developed a sudden desire to escort his daughter to the movies. He’d offered because of Mackenzie’s disappointment over her mother’s lack of sensitivity. He loved his daughter and wanted to protect her from the pain only a selfish parent could inflict on a child.

“This was a nice thing you did,” she said as they exited the theater. The kids raced on ahead of them toward the parking lot. “It helped take Mackenzie’s mind off not hearing from her mother.”

“I’m not so sure it was a good idea,” he muttered, dumping the empty popcorn container in the garbage can on their way out the door.

“Why not?”

He turned and stared at her. “Because I find myself liking you.”

Her reaction must have shone in her eyes, because his own narrowed fractionally. “You felt it, too, didn’t you?”

She wanted to lie. But she couldn’t. “Yes,” she whispered.