Brooke know?”
“Brooke?” he asked nonchalantly.
“I may be old, but I’m not blind.”
“Apparently you’re not the only one,” he said, shaking his head with amusement. “Our secret relationship is getting not so secret.”
“That’s your business, of course. But does she know about your past?”
“I told her, yeah. But we’re not like that, Grandma. It’s . . . casual.”
She pressed her lips together, obviously hiding a smile, saying, “Uh-huh,” as if she thought him silly. “So you won’t be spendin’ your first Christmas together?”
“I—first Christmas?” he echoed.
“It’s in a few days, you know,” she said, speaking as slowly as if he were a kindergartener.
“She’ll be with her family, and I’ll be with you.”
“Well, I appreciate that, of course, but you can invite her over.”
“We haven’t talked about it yet.” He wanted to see her Christmas Day, to share the holiday. Patience, he told himself again, although right now he felt anything but.
“So what are you buyin’ her?”
“A sweater or something.”
“I see.” She raised both hands. “Far be it from me to tell you what to do, Adam Desantis. Now just sit there and let me fetch you some pie for dessert.”
“I can get it myself.” He stood up, then bent to kiss her soft cheek. “Thanks for worrying about me. I’ve caused you a lot of that over the years.”
She smiled up at him gently. “Without family to worry about, life would be empty, Adam. You remember that. I won’t be here forever, and I want to know you have a family of your own. Just be open to the possibilities.”
Brooke appeared in his mind, a flash of different images—balancing on hay bales at his side, her grin full of knowledge and certainty; riding her horse at full speed around the barrels; the way her face lit with excitement when she worked with the kids; and lastly, when she lay beneath him in bed, soft and womanly and vulnerable.
He’d wondered if he was falling in love with her, but there was no lying to himself anymore. He did love her. Now to find the best way to tell her.
Chapter Twenty-three
Brooke attended the preservation-fund-committee meeting held at the Sugar and Spice the next night. The widows had come up with a wacky idea of a protest for the town-council meeting two days before Christmas, and delegated her the job of keeping Adam away. Mrs. Palmer didn’t want her grandson knowing she was more fit than she pretended. Brooke felt guilty admitting to herself that even she didn’t want Adam to know the truth. She wanted to have him all to herself for a little longer.
She sat alone that night with the lights off except for the Christmas tree, and the lights of the candles in her window. She heard carolers singing their way down Main Street, and she watched the happiness of the holiday season below her window as people came out to enjoy the music.
She hummed a Christmas song, trying to cheer herself up, remembering that she and Adam were exclusive now, and maybe they could be more. But alone in the dark, her doubts suddenly swelled. How had her secret wild fling turned into a love that might not end as happily as she wanted?
Two days before Christmas, Adam still couldn’t believe how cheerful Tyler was. Now that the kid knew his brother was trying to straighten out his life, the surliness and anger had loosened their hold on him. Tyler actually hummed while he worked, not a complaint in sight. He even confided in Adam that he hoped the Thalbergs would offer him a part-time job when his community service was done.
Adam did his Christmas shopping although it had been harder to buy for Brooke than he’d imagined. Nothing seemed right—clothes were too casual, and jewelry seemed too presumptuous. But he got her a little of each, feeling dissatisfied. He’d stared too long at engagement rings but figured Brooke didn’t like surprises.
She had an errand in town, and had left him with a list of chores that had taken him well into the dinner hour. He was just closing up the barn when Mr. Thalberg came down from the house.
“You still workin’, Adam?” he asked.
“Just finished up, sir.”
“Brooke or Josh around?”
“No, sir.”
Mr. Thalberg shook his head and rocked back on his heels. “All these ‘sirs’ are hard to take. You can just call me Doug.”
“Thank you, sir—Doug.”
He chuckled. “It’s a start. So my kids are gone, and I seem to have lost my wife. I think she might have gone