Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

H utton

My body feels like I slept all night on a hard floor, but my heart is pounding away like I'm a teenager trying to convince a girl to make out with him. Which I absolutely should not be doing considering I have my son with me and just met this woman yesterday. Though we teased about being a crazed fan, stranger things have happened before. I'd be an idiot to let my guard down.

"Putting poison in those pancakes?" I drawl, leaning my hip against the kitchen counter as she pours ingredients into a bowl. "Who needs nail clippings when you can sell my entire corpse?"

Rae opens the milk container and sniffs it before shrugging her shoulders and pouring it into the pancake mix. "That imagination of yours is terrifying." She puts the milk back in the darkened refrigerator. When her pretty brown eyes meet mine, she gestures to the mixing bowl. "You're welcome to make the pancakes if you don't trust me."

She's cute when she's being firm. And I'm not about to start lying to her now. There's something about our interaction thus far that makes me want to be perfectly honest, hoping she'll give me the same respect in return. "Strangely, I do trust you."

I don't miss the way she ducks her head and puts all of her focus into mixing the batter. I wish she'd look up again so I can stare at her. Without the garish makeup layering her face, she's stunning. After our conversation last night, I know there are inner layers to her that I'd like to explore. Then again, she's twenty-eight. Far too young for my forty years. It's why I backed off after just that one mind-blowing kiss last night.

Maybe that kind of age gap is par for the course in my industry, but if I'm going to explore anything with a woman, I want it to be with someone who understands my life stage, respects my focus being on my son, and wants to build the kind of life together that I always dreamed of. Most women in their twenties don't care about the same things I do. With age comes clarity on some things. Also self-control. Fifteen years ago, I wouldn't have stopped at a single kiss if she gave me even a hint of a green light.

"Can you light a camp stove, cowboy?"

I wrestle my thoughts back to the task at hand: feeding this crew without electricity. Fiddling with the gas canister and lighting the single burner is fairly easy. Rae sprays a pan and we move around each other making a stack of pancakes like making breakfast together is a natural occurrence. We take our plates to the couch and eat out there where the warmth of the fire reaches us. I make sure Henry's pancake is cut up and syrup isn't about to leak onto the floor from his tipped plate. Rae's gaze follows my movements.

"You're good with him," she says quietly when he's busy chewing and jumping his toy horse over the plate.

"Shouldn't all fathers be good with their children?" I shove the first bite in my mouth finally and nearly moan at the fluffy sweet goodness. I didn't realize how hungry I am.

Rae swallows her own bite before responding. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" She stands abruptly and starts chatting about getting dressed and playing in the snow some more while she puts her plate in the sink and cleans up the kitchen.

There's something odd about her comment, but clearly she doesn't want to talk about it. Instead, I shovel down my pancake as fast as I can and rise to help her in the kitchen. She accepts my help and then excuses herself to get dressed for the day.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get all that syrup off you." Henry and his now sticky horse get a sponge bath in the kitchen.

"So can we stay?" he asks me, shivering with wet hands and face. I quickly towel him off and get him back in front of the fireplace.

"I'm not sure yet. Sometimes parents need to think about something for awhile before making a decision." I already know he won't fully understand that, so I get down on the ground on all fours and beg my knees to hold out long enough for a game of horsey that will successfully distract him.

As predicted, he shouts his excitement and climbs on my back, grabbing the back of my T-shirt like the reins and tugging so hard I'm not sure my shirt will survive this game. His heels dig into my ribs and I buck for real. He giggles and I try to throw him off, always careful not to go too hard.

"Giddyup, horsey!" he calls, lost in his imagination. "We have to lasso the crackers!"

I know that's Henry speak for The Nutcracker . He and I were supposed to go see the musical theater production two days before Christmas in Texas with my parents. Another reason why we can't stay here in Snowhaven. My boy deserves to do all the Christmasy things and Mama might not forgive me for keeping her grandson away from her.

"The nutcrackers are the good guys, buddy. We shouldn't lasso them."

"Shhh! Horsies don't talk, Daddy!" he whispers loud enough to cause an avalanche.

"Did someone say The Nutcracker ?" Rae's voice grabs both of our attention and Henry slides off my back to run to her as she emerges from the hallway. She swings him up into her arms, her legs now encased in black leggings that show off every single curve below a bright red sweater that hangs off one shoulder. My mouth goes dry. "We do a Nutcracker musical every year in Snowhaven. I'm the director this year."

"See, Daddy? We stay and see the cracker!"

Rae grins at my son. The two of them seem to be co-conspirators to get us to stay in Snowhaven. I stand, dusting off my hands and considering my schedule in my head. Mama might not like me shaving a few more days off our planned trip to see them, but she'll just have to deal with it. Sadly, she's used to me changing plans.

"Alright, alright. We can stay a few days more, but only if Rae is okay with us invading her space."

Henry cheers and Rae grins broadly. "Of course it's fine. I can clear out the guest room, and once the power's back on, you can stay in there."

Henry kicks his feet and Rae lets him down. He grabs her hand and starts leaning his body down the hallway, trying to get her to follow him. I shake my head when she gives in a split second later. We enter the only other doorway in the hallway that I haven't been through yet. It's another bedroom, this one covered in canvases all in various stages of completion. There's a bed under there somewhere, but my attention is drawn to the vibrant landscapes.

Rae grabs a couple canvases lying on the bed and leans them against the wall. Henry climbs onto the bed and immediately has his horse jumping on a canvas left on the quilt that depicts a desert scene. I grab for him, not wanting him to damage her painting, but Rae waves me away.

"It's fine. I have a bazillion canvases and these are just practice anyway."

I spin in a slow circle, taking in the dozens of canvases, each one better than the next and not one displayed like the exquisite art it is. The way the colors jump off the canvas, the detail of each leaf, rock, mountain, and stream, and how each one transports me to a different place is nothing short of amazing.

"This is your art?" I ask dumbly.

Rae shrugs like they aren't the most fantastic paintings I've seen in years. "Yes, but I don't sell these. I do murals. Large-scale murals like the outside of a brick building or a long wall. These are just for keeping my skills up in between commissions."

I complete my circle to stare at Rae. Her hair has been braided to the side, small strands escaping to frame her face. No makeup. Just the hint of her tattoos on that bare shoulder. Damn, she's gorgeous, and now that I've seen her talent, I'm a bit flustered.

And Hutton Calder doesn't get flustered.

"I came to Snowhaven to sing for Ella when she called me last week in a panic." My mouth is moving and words I hadn't planned are flowing.

"I know, Morgana told me. That was nice of you." Rae tilts her head to the side, not understanding what I'm trying to communicate.

I shake my head. "I saw her sing in a bar in Nashville, people drinking and carousing all around as she sang her heart out. They were too busy drinking to hear the incredible performance. I made sure she opened for me on my next tour." I step closer to Rae, watching her eyes change the closer I get. "I know talent when I see it, sugar, and you have one hell of a talent."

She huffs through a smile, dipping her head again. I reach out and cup her chin, pulling her face back up as her eyes flare wide. She licks her lips and I watch the quick flick of her tongue with rapt attention. "Thank you," she whispers. "Now let's get this stuff put away so you two have a place to sleep."

She steps backward out of my grip, turning quickly to stack the canvases before shoving them into the closet and sliding the mirrored doors shut again. She keeps putting more of them away, more careless than Henry if she'd asked him to complete the task, which intrigues me. And makes me sad for her. Why is she so shy about what's obviously an incredible talent that she's spent hours, months, years working on?

I hand her a few canvases from the far side of the room, noting that she won't look me in the eye. In my line of work, I'm used to people with no talent who try to get you to say they have talent just so they can become the next big star. Modesty, on the other hand. That's unheard of.

"We can stay a few days at most. If the press catches wind where I'm at though, you'll have zero privacy."

Rae meets my gaze with a smirk, looking all too happy to be talking about anything but her life's work. "Oh, please. Who's going to tell them? We Snowhaveners can keep a secret. Besides, the press can't get into Snowhaven right now anyway without the roads cleared. Stay as long as you want and it'll be our little Christmas secret."

Warmth pools in my gut as I think about her being my Christmas secret. I can think of a few things I'd like to do with her that we could add to the list of secrets. I take a step toward her, and she boldly holds my gaze now.

"Why do I want nothing more than to cancel our plans for the holiday and just stay right here?" Again with the honesty.

Her smile hits me right in the chest. "Everyone feels that way when they visit Snowhaven."

Moving even closer still, I shake my head. I can smell something warm and woodsy coming from her. I want to bury my nose in her neck and see if I can find the source of that intoxicating scent. I reach out and tug on the front of her sweater. She sways toward me, her gaze dipping down to my mouth.

"I'm pretty sure that's not the reason I want to stay," I admit quietly. Her gaze flies back up to my eyes. I realize with a start, I haven't had this much fun in years. Staying sounds like the very best idea I've heard in a long time. "I think maybe I need to see if I can get back on that hall pass list."

"Let's make snow 'gels!" Henry shouts, leaping off the bed and into our legs.

The moment is broken as we're forced apart to catch the flying boy. But I don't miss the way Rae's cheeks have taken on a shade of pink that spells good things in my future. I have zero idea what I'm doing here in her house, but I've made my decision, reckless as it may be.

Henry and I are staying. At least for a few days.