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  “You’re right, and that’s tough to swallow because everyone who knows me also knows I’m not the most patient man on the face of the earth.”

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to work on it. You’ve waited a dozen years to see Brynn again and now she’s here—and from all accounts she’s as into you as you are her. Are you just going to toss that away on account of what-if’s?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…”

  “’Nough said. The counseling session is suspended for the time being. You can pay me with a large Pappy’s pizza to go, heavy on the anchovies.” Wyatt stood and rounded the desk to clap Dillon on the back. “I’ll phone in the order, and we’ll head that way. Then I have to get home. Kami and the kids are waiting on me.”

  “Kami and the kids.” Dillon shook his head. “That sounds…”

  “Just right.” Wyatt finished for him.

  5

  A cuckoo clock perched over the fireplace mantel chimed eight forty-five as Brynn peered through the front window. Outside, the morning sky shone clear and blue; sunlight turned the snow to a glassy shimmer. Dillon was right; the storm had passed just as quickly and unexpectedly as it had arrived. Even so, the temperature held steady at a frigid twenty-nine degrees. Cold seeped through the pane to chill her. Snow might have quit falling, but the aftermath was promising to stick around for a while.

  Dillon’s jacket, now warm and dry, still hung over the chair back where he’d left it last night. Brynn fretted that his drive home had been not only long and laborious through the snow-packed roads, but also cold. She’d return the jacket to him as soon as he arrived.

  Beside her, lights twinkled along tree boughs, transforming the fir to a cheerful symbol of Christmas. Gran had managed to remain afoot long enough to hang several ornaments on the branches while Gramps placed a gold star atop the highest bough. Soon, gifts would appear beneath to cover the tree skirt. Brynn already had a few ideas.

  A fire crackled in the hearth and heat caused the mistletoe wreath to swing lazily above the doorway that led to the kitchen. Brynn touched a finger to her lips, remembering the kisses she’d shared with Dillon. It was so out-of-character for her to behave in such a reckless manner, especially with a man she barely knew. But Dillon was more than that…he’d seemed to be a part of her life since that day he’d shown up on the doorstep bearing gifts. Somehow over the years that followed, he seemed to find his way into every conversation she shared with Gran and occasionally even with Gramps.

  “Dillon Cutler came to help Gramps repair the roof shingles after that storm last week,” Gran would chatter. Or, “Dillon stopped by with a poinsettia for our dinner table. He asked how your classes are going and if you plan to visit anytime soon.”

  Through the years, Brynn had made a point to return to Clover Cove on a handful of occasions, and Gramps had even worked at Cutler Nursery for a brief period of time while he waited to be picked up once again at the lumber yard. No matter, Brynn and Dillon walked paths that failed to cross again.

  Until yesterday.

  Brynn shook her head. Had it really just been yesterday? If it was possible to live a lifetime in a single span of moments, she believed she’d accomplished that with his kisses. Now that her path had joined with Dillon’s once again, where might it lead?

  She sighed. What was the point of dreaming? She was on leave from her job in Jacksonville for only a few more weeks, and was due back two days after Christmas. She’d been afforded a month’s leave to help care for Gran but she’d eventually have to return. She was needed there.

  She was needed here, as well. Gran’s accident brought that reality front and center. Her grandparents were aging, and, with her father’s constant travels, Brynn’s relationship with him was precarious at best. Gran and Gramps were all she had; conversely, Brynn knew she was the same for them.

  A sleek, extended-cab black truck turned the corner. Sunlight shimmered along the polished chrome.

  Dillon.

  He headed slowly up the plowed street toward the house, pausing to turn into the drive. When he stepped from the driver’s seat a few moments later, Brynn drew a deep breath. He seemed taller, leaner than she remembered. Dark hair curled around the nape of his neck while his gaze sought her through the window. Locking on, he studied her for a moment, bringing back memories of that night so long ago when he’d looked at her with the same expression, as if she was a code he struggled to decipher.

  Just as quickly, the puzzled look morphed into a brilliant smile. He offered a slight wave and then climbed the stairs two-at-a-time. She moved to open the door and let him in.

  “Hi again,” He murmured as his hand, chilled from the cold, brushed hers. His breath was warm on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You, too.” She squeezed his fingers. “Come in out of the cold for a moment.”

  Dillon stomped his boots on the welcome mat and then crossed the threshold. “Snow’s moved out; streets are fairly clear. Should be business as usual by tomorrow morning. In the meantime…”

  “You forgot your jacket yesterday.”

  “I know.” He glanced at it before his gaze traveled to the mistletoe, still filled with berries. His voice, low and soothing, held a hint of hesitation. “About yesterday…I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”

  “Not at all.” Brynn’s cheeks heated as a smile tickled her lips. “I was hoping for an encore…but we should talk first.”

  ****

  We should talk first…four of the most terrifying words in the English language when they were strung together—by a woman—following a kiss.

  Good grief.

  Feeling as if he treaded along a magician’s bed of nails, Dillon carried a wicker basket generously stocked with everything from magazines to candy bars as he and Brynn wound their way through a revolving door and into the Children’s Hospital lobby. The place was a pleasant contradiction to the adult medical center just down the street, which he remembered as somber and smelling of musty age and disinfectant. The thought brought back a wave of memories filled with his dad’s last days. Dad had passed away in that very building, in a quiet, dusky room tucked into one corner of the sixth floor.

  Dillon promised not to dwell on the loss or the string of dark days that had followed. Instead, he focused on colorful bulletin boards and welcoming posters that lined the length of the wall to the elevators.

  “Tell me again how you know Janie and her mother,” Dillon murmured, doing his best to chase away the painful memories of cancer that had ravaged his dad. He’d been a week shy of seventeen when the end finally arrived and returning to a place so close to the scene brought the loss front and center. “I mean, how did you get to the point of visiting them like this?”

  “Well, you know Janie was in the car that was involved in the wreck with Gran and Gramps.” Brynn pressed a button on the wall indicating their need for an elevator headed up. “And I spent day and night here watching over Gran and keeping Gramps company. During that time, I got in the habit of stopping in to see Janie, as well. Gramps was fretting over everything, and it made him feel better to know someone was checking up on her. As the days progressed, I spent a little more time and then more, still. While we sat together, Sarah and I got to talking, and I just feel…I don’t know…connected, maybe because we’re so close in age. I can’t imagine enduring all she’s been through—first losing a husband and now watching her child suffer. The accident was nobody’s fault which I suppose, in some odd way, makes the whole thing even harder to stomach. Why did this happen? Why did the deer choose just that moment to bolt, and why did the two vehicles have to be in just the right position to crash? Why did Janie endure the brunt of the impact? ”

  “Was Sarah hurt, too?”

  “No. She wasn’t involved in the wreck, which brings us to a whole other set of why’s. She was at work while Janie was with a friend headed back from the park. The driver endured a sprained wrist as well as a couple of bruised ribs while Janie’s
little friend sustained a slight concussion. But Janie took the lion’s share of the impact, since it happened on that side of the car—the passenger side.”

  “How, exactly, did the accident happen?”

  “A deer bounded into the road, crashed through the windshield of Gramps’s SUV and landed in the front seat—right in his lap. The shock caused him to cross over into oncoming traffic, where his car collided with the oncoming sedan. Thank goodness a police officer happened to be there at a side road and saw the whole thing. He radioed nine-one-one and had help on the scene right away.”

  “It’s a miracle, really, that your grandparents weren’t hurt worse.”

  “I know. Especially Gramps, who walked away without so much as a scratch. But his damage was more emotional—he feels awful about Janie.” The elevator doors parted and Brynn waited while those inside disembarked before she stepped on. “She wasn’t as fortunate. She suffered a compound fracture of her distal femur as well as a skull fracture resulting in an extradural hemorrhage. And her spleen was compromised—”

  “Hold on a minute…plain English, please.”

  “Janie was hurt, Dillon—badly. Her recovery time will be lengthy and involved.”

  “I see, and where did you pick up all that medical jargon?”

  “I’m a pediatric RN. It’s my job to know the jargon.”

  “You’re a nurse? Where do you work?”

  “Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital in Jacksonville. I’m on leave here while Gran recovers. She needs me. Gramps needs me.”

  I need you, too. The words stormed through Dillon’s heart without warning.

  “On leave,” he parroted his mouth suddenly dry. “For—for how long?” He stumbled over the words.

  “I was given a month, and I’ve already been here more than a week, with Gran in the hospital. I have until December twenty-seventh until I’m due to report back.”

  “That’s less than three weeks from now.”

  “I know.” Brynn’s clear, toffee-colored eyes rose to meet his. “But those weeks should give Gran plenty of time to get back on her feet and even Janie ought to be well down the road to recovery by then, too, if she doesn’t experience any setbacks.”

  “So you’ve made up your mind? You know for certain your return to Clover Cove isn’t permanent?”

  “You know as well as I do that nothing in life is for certain but yes, it’s my plan to return to Jacksonville right after Christmas.”

  6

  Two weeks or so…that’s all he had. Dillon forced the thought from his mind as he swung into the Pappy’s Pizzeria lot. Since the winter solstice loomed, dusk hovered, though it was barely four o’clock. He and Brynn had spent a good part of the day at the hospital, affording Sarah Mitchell a chance to have lunch and indulge in a short nap without leaving her daughter without company. Brynn’s experience in nursing proved an added bonus; she aided the on-call nurses and put Sarah at ease.

  Dillon turned to Brynn, nestled in the passenger seat beside him, as the aroma of pizza sauce and spicy Italian sausage poured from the brownstone building brightened by a crimson awning that ran the length of the front. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten here?”

  “I came on a break from college three years ago—spring break the year I graduated.”

  “That’s ironic. I’d headed to Panama City Beach that year with some buddies. You know how it goes…the last hurrah before real life begins. We may have even crossed paths along the interstate.”

  “Possibly.” Brynn loosened the top button of her navy wool coat. “I asked about you, but…”

  “I asked about you all the time, too.” He glanced across the street to the nursery, feeling a tug of guilt for leaving his brothers and Maddie to hold down the fort for the day. Everything seemed to be in order, though, so he tossed the guilt right out the window and turned back to Brynn. “We just never seemed to navigate the same schedule.”

  “Until now.”

  “How about we head inside, make some new memories?”

  “Sounds good.” Brynn unlatched her seatbelt. “But does your family need you across the street?”

  “They seem to be managing just fine.”

  They tromped through the snow and were met at the door by Jada. “Hi, ya’ll.” The veteran server flashed a smile along with the modest diamond solitaire Fred had placed on her finger Thanksgiving Day. After four years, he’d finally mustered the courage to ask for her hand in marriage. Today Jada’s hair was a pale shade of burgundy pulled into a stump of a tail; next week it might be spiked and midnight black. There was no telling. But her mega-watt smile and bone-dry humor were consistent, no matter the day or hue of her tresses. “Booth or table?”

  “A booth’s fine. Is that Anthony at the back-corner table?”

  “Yes, with your mom. They’re enjoying a late lunch together. Do you want to join them?”

  “No. Let them be.” The two had been cozy lately, piquing Dillon’s interest that they shared something more than an easy friendship. It was a good fit, he supposed, since Mr. Moretto had lost his wife about the same time Dillon’s dad had passed away. They’d both spent a good chunk of time alone and now seemed to enjoy each other’s company. “I’ll catch them on the way out.”

  “Works for me.” Jada led them to a booth near the kitchen, where the aroma of garlic infused the air. Beyond the serving line, the contents of a variety of pots and pans sizzled and spat. Fred worked diligently over the industrial stove to fill a flurry of orders clipped to a metal spindle. Obviously, the weather hadn’t deterred a crowd. “Can I bring you coffee?”

  “Sure, heavy on the cream and sugar.”

  “Of course, you’re a Cutler, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes and turned to Brynn. “Let me guess, you take it black?”

  “That’s right. But how did you know?”

  “It’s a gift.” Jada tapped the eraser end of a pencil to her forehead. “And I’ll bet you’d like a plate of spinach ravioli to go with that.”

  “I hadn’t planned on that but, now that you mention it, ravioli sounds perfect.”

  “The usual for you, Dillon?”

  “Yep, spaghetti and meatballs.”

  Jada scrunched her nose as her lips dipped to a frown. “One day you’re going to venture into the big, bad world of three-cheese tortellini and eggplant lasagna.”

  “Maybe, but not today.” Dillon craned his neck, peering around her to spy the dessert counter. “But we’ll take a few slices of that tiramisu later on.”

  “Sure, spaghetti and tiramisu.” Jada drew an order pad from her apron, jotted a note as she sauntered away. One of the shoelaces on her fire-engine-red tennis shoes was loose and it slapped the tile with each step. “Coming right up.”

  Dillon shrugged from the jacket Brynn had returned to him that morning, noticing that it now carried the light, citrusy scent of her perfume. “I’ll bet this place has changed some since the last time you were here. Kami’s had her hand in a series of upscale renovations since she took over management from her father.”

  “Yes. I don’t remember the coffee shop and gallery next door and the booths are different…roomier. It looks like the kitchen has had a complete overhaul, and these candles on the tables add a personal touch.” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. “It still has that family feel, though, and the delicious, belly-tugging smells.”

  “Anthony would never compromise that, regardless of who holds the reins. He built this to be a place where families would feel comfortable.”

  Jada returned with the coffee and, soon after, a basket of garlic knots coupled with a pair of steaming plates of food.

  “These haven’t changed either.” Brynn tore into one of the light, yeasty knots. She smacked her lips with satisfaction. “Yes, they’re just as delectable as I remember. They positively melt in your mouth.”

  “Anthony should sell them by the bucket.” Dillon snatched one and used it to mop up sauce as he dug into his spaghetti. �
�How often do you go to visit Janie?”

  “I went everyday while Gran was there at the hospital. Now it’s a little harder, since Gramps and Gran need my help at the house. So, at least every other day.”

  “How long do you think Janie will remain admitted?”

  “I thought she might go home by Christmas, but now the doctors are saying maybe by New Year’s Day.”

  “That’s tough, spending the holidays in a pediatric ward. I wish I could help.”

  Brynn leaned in, her eyes sparkling like chocolate diamonds. “Maybe you can. Do you own a Santa suit?”

  “Me?” Dillon reached for another garlic knot and tore off a hunk. “No. But Wyatt just bought one from the costume shop in Knoxville. He wants to surprise his kids, since they’re old enough now to get excited about stuff like that.”

  “That’s perfect. Can you borrow it for an afternoon?”

  “Why?” Dillon patted his abdomen. “Do I look like I belong in a Santa suit?”

  “Well, if you keep chowing down on those garlic knots like they’re going out of style, you might get there.” She eyed him intently. “Scratch that. With your strong build you could burn off an entire truck-load of the bread.” Brynn’s gaze speared him as she lifted the tea glass to her lips. “You’d need a pillow along your belly and some makeup might do—”

  “Makeup. Whoa. Hold it right there.” Dillon dropped his fork and held up a hand. “I’m not wearing makeup.”

  “Just some blush…dabbed over the tip of your nose.” Brynn reached across the table to tweak the slope of skin. “To give it that rosy appearance. And maybe a bit here at the apples of your cheeks.”