Chapter 17

17

TRISTAN

T ristan didn't move. There was no way he'd heard her right. Dianna had put up so many walls; she wouldn't just drop them like that, would she? Not only had she told him it probably wouldn't be smart to start something, but it was also in the way she carried herself. He didn't know how she did it, but she could keep him at arm's length without doing or saying anything.

"You… want me to kiss you?"

She stepped closer to him, pulling his suit coat tighter around herself. Dianna tilted her face toward him. "You've been telling me that the only thing holding you back from kissing me has been me. Well, I'm not standing in your way anymore."

He exhaled, his breath coming out in white puffs.

Dianna tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "You do want to kiss me, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. I just wasn't expecting?—"

"For heaven's sake," she said in exasperation as she slipped her hands around his neck and pulled. His jacket slipped from her shoulders to the ground in a heap. Her lips were soft and, at the same time, blistering against the frigid air that encircled them. She kissed him tenderly, exploring his mouth with hers.

Tentatively, he held her close, telling himself she must be freezing and they could preserve their body temperatures. But deep down, he knew otherwise. They molded together, one heart and one mind, two people who cared about the same things.

If he had thought Erika was meant for him, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he had been terribly wrong. Dianna stirred emotions within him that he hadn't felt before—certainly not with Erika.

If he could memorize one moment from his life, this would be it. Tristan's emotions boiled over, taking with them his common sense and logical mind.

Tristan came to his senses and pulled back, putting a good two feet between them. His eyes dipped to the coat and he lurched toward it. "You must be freezing. Here." He wrapped the coat around her and, once again, made sure to put enough space between them that he wouldn't be tempted to lose control like that again. His relationship with Erika had been fast, too. And up until this point he hadn't connected that it might have ended so abruptly because he hadn't realized who she really was.

It wasn't that he thought Dianna would do something so treacherous as leaving her own son. But he wasn't sure he was ready to risk everything on something so new. They should take it slow.

Dianna touched her lips with the tips of her fingers and stared at him.

He couldn't tell if she was upset or if there was something else going through her mind. That was one more drawback to how well they knew one another. Or the lack thereof. Tristan gave her a half smile, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "You okay?"

She nodded.

"You sure?"

Dianna pulled the jacket around her tighter and said, "I never knew a kiss could feel like that."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked. He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear her tell him that this wasn't going to work out.

Her gaze darted up to meet his and the hint of a smile touched her lips. "I've never been kissed like that before." She touched her lips again, her smile deepening. "You were my first."

Tristan couldn't help it. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "You've never—are you sure?"

She arched a brow. "I think I would know if I had been kissed." There was that familiar tone in her voice—the one that said she was disappointed in him, the one that said he should know better than to say such things. She'd used it on him when she'd lectured him about how he wanted Mathew to be treated. "Is that going to be a problem?"

He took a step toward her, the pressure of his chest squeezing the blood from his heart so he felt lightheaded. Cupping her face with his hand, he dipped his face lower so it came within inches of hers. "It was a pleasure to be your first." He grazed his lips against hers briefly, for good measure. "How about we go visit Mathew, then come back here for a little snack."

Dianna nodded, the smile returning to her face. "I'd like that."

There was a light snow covering on the ground from last night's snowfall. They were about halfway to the cabin when the first snowflake of the evening drifted to the earth beneath their feet. It was big and fluffy, resembling a down feather more than a snowflake. A second and third followed in its wake until the entire area was being dumped on by the clouds overhead.

Dianna laughed, tilting her face to the sky and closing her eyes. She brought up her hands and turned around. "I love the snow. Especially at Christmastime."

Tristan watched with fascination as her hair was adorned by the fluffy flakes. When she brought her focus to him, she looked like a snow queen with a crown of ice. He shivered as a fresh wave of chills assaulted him. "Come on," he held out his hand, "I'm certain Mathew is waiting on us."

The snow was still dumping, coating the entire property in a thick layer of white. By the time they made it to the cabin, they were both soaked to the bone. They stepped inside and immediately Mathew came barreling out from the hallway, his sitter on his heels.

"Miss Dianna!" He threw his arms around her, then jumped back and looked her up and down. "You're wet."

She laughed. "That's because it's snowing. Did you see it yet?"

His head whipped around to stare out the window, then he darted around a chair and collided with the window ledge to stare outside. "I can't see anything."

"Then let's get out there." Dianna glanced at Tristan. "If it's okay with your dad."

"Dad! Can we? I want to see the snow."

"Sure, bud. But we have to get your coat, gloves and boots on. I don't want you getting sick."

Mathew pouted. "But you guys were out there without—" He shot a look in Dianna's direction, and once again, Tristan's heart stuttered with shock. It was almost like he wasn't looking at his son. The boy before him had been taken over by another entity. One who argued less often. Mathew snapped his mouth shut. "Okay." He took off toward his room and returned with a pair of snow boots, a hat, and gloves.

Tristan had never seen Mathew dress so quickly. They were out the door in what felt like mere seconds. Mathew flew to the snow quickly piling up in the small yard. The only one who stayed behind to watch inside was the babysitter.

Mathew crouched down and gathered a snowball in his gloved hands. Then he waddled with his legs apart, rolling it until it came to his knees. Excitedly, he gestured toward the ball. "Miss Dianna, come make a snowman with me! Please?"

"Oh, I don't think Miss Dianna can come out into the yard, bud. She's not wearing the right kind of shoes." Tristan offered Dianna a reassuring smile. He didn't expect her to catch her death either.

Dianna glanced from Mathew to Tristan. "I saw an old pair of cowboy boots by the front door. I'll try those on."

"I don't think those are for… wearing."

She was already inside and pulling on a pair of worn, cracked cowboy boots that were probably only there for decoration. When she didn't return immediately outside, Tristan moved toward the door. But then it shut and Dianna was out, wearing the sitter's coat. She beamed at Mathew. "See? I'm all ready now."

Dianna shoveled her way through the quickly growing snowfall and made her own ball with her bare hands. She rolled it until it was an appropriate size and then placed it unceremoniously on the ball Mathew had made.

"Your turn, Dad!"

Both Mathew and Dianna turned toward him expectantly. Already he could tell he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. If Dianna was willing and able to put on some stranger's boots, then he could join in on the fun. Memories like these would be the building blocks for Mathew's childhood.

He threw his hands in the air and laughed. "Oh, alright." A few minutes turned into a half hour, and three snowmen later, they stood back and admired their work. The snow still continued to dump around them, but no one seemed to care. Mathew hugged Tristan around the legs and he rubbed the top of his son's head, displacing the snow that had accumulated there.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold. We should go inside."

Tristan chuckled. "I think you're right." They headed inside and the babysitter sat up from where she was looking at her phone on the couch. "Mr. Wood? My parents said the roads are getting pretty bad. They want me to head home if that's okay."

"Of course." Tristan removed his soaking coat. "Thank you for coming." He pulled out his wallet and paid her, then walked her to the door. After she had safely gotten to her car, he returned inside to find Mathew in a fresh pair of pajamas sitting in front of the fire. Dianna had changed too.

The familiar t-shirt and flannel pajama pants practically drowned her. Tristan couldn't move from his place as he stared at the scene before him. Dianna and Mathew sat on the floor, reading a copy of The Night Before Christmas . Their decorated tree and the flames from the fire were the only sources of light in the room.

Peace.

That's what this feeling was.

Dianna fit in his life like the missing piece of a puzzle. She was the part of him that he hadn't realized he'd lost. And it appeared that Mathew could sense it too. He snuggled up in her lap, turning the pages as she read them.

Tristan didn't dare move closer for fear that the scene before him would disappear like a mirage in the desert.

But his clothes hung heavy and wet on his shoulders, and the fire looked so inviting. He kicked off his shoes as quietly as he could, then slipped past them to his room. Tristan found an additional pair of pajamas and grabbed the crocheted blanket from a rocking chair that sat in the corner.

When he arrived back in the living room, Mathew was still in Dianna's lap, but this time she was reading to him from that book on horse breeds. His son's eyes drooped and he climbed out of her lap to lay on the floor, resting his head where he'd just vacated. She ran her fingers through his hair almost absently as she continued to read. "The average height of a Clydesdale will usually exceed eighteen hands. And most will be around six feet in length. It is not uncommon for this breed to weigh more than one ton." Her eyes flicked up to meet Tristan's and she smiled before she continued. "The hair around their hooves is called feathering. This trait is believed to have evolved naturally and is one of the strongest in the Clydesdale horse breed."

Tristan moved quietly behind her and draped the Afghan around her shoulders before he took a seat on the couch. Dianna's voice was soothing and melodic, and it was easy for him to sit back and just enjoy her narration.

Mathew's eyes drooped closed and he yawned. Before Dianna finished reading about Clydesdales, Mathew had lost consciousness. Soft snores hummed through his son's nose. Dianna carefully closed the book and put it aside.

"Thank you," Tristan whispered.

She glanced at him, still tracing her fingers through Mathew's hair. "For what?"

"For this . For playing in the snow even though you weren't dressed for it. For being there for him." It was all so much. Perhaps it was too much. He couldn't help but feel like he was being ridiculous as his feelings for her continued to grow more serious. "I don't think we've ever had so much fun during a snowfall as we did tonight."

"I'm sure you've made plenty of wonderful memories," she said quietly. She shifted, taking care to adjust her position without waking Mathew. "I don't remember much of my mother before she got sick and passed, but I do remember the holidays. She was always willing to do whatever it took to make Christmas special." Dianna offered him a pained smile. "I don't think she could ever tell us ‘no.' Drove my dad completely crazy."

"I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "I was pretty young. Probably close to Mathew's age, actually. I do miss her—what I can remember, anyway—but it's been so long…" She lifted tear-filled eyes. "You ever get the feeling that there's more out there?" Her face flushed bright red. "I'm a very logical person." She paused and chuckled. "As you might have noticed. But sometimes…" She got a far-off look in her eyes. "Sometimes I feel like she might be watching me—helping me get through parts of my life that I find more difficult than others." She sighed, her focus shifting to Mathew. "I don't know. Maybe that's crazy."

"I don't think it's crazy at all." He waited until she looked at him. "I'm of the opinion that there are far too many miracles for there not to be something bigger out there. I guess that's why I believe in the Good Lord above. I'd like to think that we're here for a reason, and one day we'll be rewarded for our efforts."

The only sound reaching him was the crackle of the fire behind her. Shadows danced on the walls as the flames flickered. Tristan shifted his focus to his son, then got to his feet. "I'll put him down and then I can walk you back to the club. I'm sure Shane would be happy to drive you home."

She glanced toward the window. "I wouldn't want him to have to leave his guests." Dianna seemed to hesitate before setting her gaze on him. "Would it be okay if I crashed on the couch tonight and we can evaluate the roads in the morning?"

"Absolutely." The words burst from inside him before he had a chance to rein in his enthusiasm. Her idea was likely better anyway. Trying to get back to the club after the dumping that occurred over the last hour didn't look at all appealing, especially considering they were finally warm and dry, save for their hair. Plus he wouldn't want Mathew to wake up and him not be there. Even if it was only for a few minutes. Tristan scooped Mathew into his arms and smiled at her. "I'll be right back."

He moved toward the bedroom and Mathew let out a heavy sigh. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"I really like Miss Dianna."

"Me too, bud."

"Can she be my new mom?"

Tristan's chest tightened. His stomach rolled and knotted. "We've talked about this, buddy. It's not as easy as that."

"But I asked Santa for a new mom."

Tristan carefully placed Mathew on his bed in the small room. Pain sliced through his heart, splintering it with each breath he took. "When did you do that?"

"I wrote him a letter when we got here and gave it to that nice man."

Tristan's brows furrowed. "Do you mean Shane?"

Mathew yawned and rolled over. "Miss Dianna would be the perfect mom."

He had no argument there. He just couldn't guarantee such a thing was possible. Tristan sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his son's head before kissing his damp hair. "Goodnight, buddy." He didn't know how long he stayed there, staring at his boy, but when his thoughts cleared, he eased off the bed and quietly closed the bedroom door.

Upon entering the living room, he found Dianna curled up on the couch, the knit blanket covering her body. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy. After the strain she'd put on her body while playing in the snow in less-than-ideal clothing, it wasn't a surprise she had fallen asleep so easily.

Tristan watched her for a moment, doing his best not to imagine a future with her the way Mathew had suggested. Neither one of them could afford another broken heart right now. He moved to the edge of the couch and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, growing still when she let out a soft sigh. Thankfully, Dianna didn't stir any more than that. He gathered another heavier blanket and draped it over her sleeping form, then put out the fire and returned to his room.