A California Christmas (Silver Springs #7) - Brenda Novak Page 0,17

again—jealous that such a handsome man would shrug off what Emery had done instead of making a joke out of it, out of her.

“Incredible,” she muttered to Dallas after Sidney picked up their empty cups and disappeared into the back.

“What?” Dallas said as he stood.

“Attitudes are as catchy as the flu.”

“Exactly.”

“We appreciate your help,” Emery said to Sidney when she returned to wipe off their table.

“No problem.” Her gaze shifted to Dallas. “Merry Christmas,” she said, obviously eager to please him.

“Merry Christmas,” he said with a wide smile and once again took Emery’s hand.

5

It was after eleven when Aiyana sat on the couch next to Dallas. His younger brothers had gone up to get ready for bed, and Emery was in her room, possibly asleep. “How’d it go today?”

Dallas continued flipping through TV stations. He didn’t watch a lot of TV, just a show here or there on his computer. Not only did he sleep in his van in one campground or another throughout the summer, he went to bed early so he could get up at the crack of dawn. And during the winter—until this winter—he spent most of his time at the gym, coaching or working out so that he could maintain his strength and earn enough to carry him through the next climbing season. “How’d what go today? Shopping? Fine.”

“You and Emery get along okay?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You were gone all day.”

He eyed her dubiously. “What are you implying?”

She arched her eyebrows, unwilling to back down even though the look he was giving her warned her not to make a big deal of the time he’d spent with her houseguest. “It means you were having fun.”

After glancing back toward the stairs to be sure Emery wasn’t coming down, he lowered his voice. “I was just trying to help her.”

The way Aiyana smiled made him suspect she didn’t believe him, so he leaned forward. “You know better than to play matchmaker,” he said. “Even if she were interested, which I’m sure she’s not—she’s going through too much right now to even consider getting into another relationship—it would only set her up for heartbreak. I wouldn’t make a good husband.”

She rolled her eyes. “Says who?”

“Says me. Climbing has come between me and plenty of other women. This relationship would be no different.” He knew that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t climbing that made him leery; it was a lack of trust. The only psychologist he’d ever found helpful had told him he had abandonment issues. But anyone who’d been through what he’d been through, especially at such a young age, would be angry and walled off.

“Eventually, you’ll be looking for something more...fulfilling than climbing,” she predicted.

He settled on SportsCenter since he knew his mother wouldn’t stick around long enough to watch anything even if he chose a program she’d like better. She had school in the morning, was already up past her bedtime. “I don’t find anything more fulfilling than climbing,” he said. “I’m happy the way I am,” he added the moment he saw the concern enter her eyes. Aiyana had saved him in so many ways; he refused to cause her to worry. “I’m good.”

She sighed as she glanced away, then looked at him again, this time catching and holding his gaze. “I got a letter a couple of months ago.”

He tensed. He could tell by her somber tone that this wasn’t just any letter—and since he’d recently received a letter himself, he could guess what she was about to say. “From my father?”

“He’s been in contact with you, then? You didn’t say anything, so I assumed he didn’t follow through.”

Dallas pictured the crinkled envelope he’d taken out of his duffel bag last night. He didn’t pick up his mail often, handled almost everything online, so his father’s letter had been waiting in his post office box for over a month. “He wrote me, if that’s what you mean by ‘followed through.’”

“What’d he have to say?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t open it? What’d you do with it? Throw it away?”

“Not yet. But I might. What’d your letter say?”

“That he was eager to reach you, that he had something to tell you he felt you should hear.”

The bitterness that welled up surprised Dallas. He’d thought he’d come to terms with his childhood—even though it had warped him in a way he couldn’t seem to fix, like a constant wind permanently bends even a strong tree. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. I don’t want to hear anything he has