wasn’t it?”
Her eyes rounded with joy. “It was great!” She turned to her dad. “Let’s go again.”
“Hey, I just slogged up that hill three times. I need a break.” He headed up the slope again. “But you can ride your saucer down the little hill as much as you want.”
Surprisingly, Finley said, “Okay,” and followed him up the slope. At the top, she set her butt on the saucer and sent herself lobbing down the hill.
Rory dropped to the snow. “I am seriously tired.”
Shannon plopped beside him. “After three little rides?”
He tweaked a curl that had escaped from her knit cap. “Three little rides? You try walking up that hill three times in a row with no break.”
Finley’s final whoop of laughter as she slid to a stop on the ledge reached them. Shannon’s heart swelled again, filled with warmth and joy. This was what it would feel like to have a real family. A loving husband. An adorable child.
Watching Finley trudge up the slope with her saucer, Rory said, “This is why I love having a kid. The fun. When Finley’s not in a mood, she can be incredibly fun.” He peeked at Shannon. “And spontaneous. The things she says sometimes crack me up.”
She glanced down the hill at Finley, saw the joy on her face, the snow on her tummy, and she laughed. “Yeah. She’s cute.”
Shannon’s laughter filled Rory with peace. The whole afternoon had been fun, even though he’d told her about his ex-wife. Or maybe because he’d told her about his ex-wife. She seemed to feel enough sympathy for Finley that she’d gone out of her way to make his little girl happy.
“You really love Finley, don’t you?”
Her question surprised him so much that he glanced over at her again. The sun sparkled off the snow that clung to her. Her full lips bowed up in a smile of pure pleasure as she watched his child—his pride and joy—pick herself up and head up the hill.
“I adore her. I love being a dad.”
Her smile trembled a bit. “I bet you do.”
He snorted a laugh. “You’ve seen the bad side of parenting in the past twenty-four hours. Most of the time Finley makes me laugh, fills in my world.” He shrugged. “Actually, she makes my world make sense, gives all the work I do a purpose.”
“You’re a great dad.”
“Yeah, too bad I won’t have any more kids.”
Her face registered such a weird expression that he felt he needed to explain. “When a spouse leaves the way mine did, no explanation, no trying to work things out, just a plain old ‘I don’t love you anymore and I certainly don’t want to be a mom…’” He shrugged again, forced his gaze away from her, over to the blue, blue sky. “Well, you’re left with a little bit more than a bad taste in your mouth for marriage.”
“Marriage doesn’t have anything to do with having kids.”
He laughed. “You’re right. Not in this day and age, with adoption and surrogate mothers.” He caught her gaze again. “But it’s difficult enough to handle Finley—one child—without a mom. I couldn’t imagine adding another. So it’s just me and Finley for the rest of our lives.”
“Even though you love kids, you wouldn’t try any of the other options?”
“Nope. But if I had a wife I would. Of course, if I had a wife I could have kids the old-fashioned way.” He waggled his eyebrows, but the truth of that settled over him and he stopped being silly. “If I could commit again, I’d love to have more kids. My kids. A little boy who’d look like me. Another little girl who might look like her mom.”
When he caught her gaze again, her eyes were soft and sad. He could have been confused by her reaction, except he knew his voice had gotten every bit as soft and sad. He’d revealed some personal tidbits that she probably wasn’t expecting. Hell, even he hadn’t realized he felt all those things about kids until the conversation had turned that way.
Of course, she’d sort of turned it that way.
Now that he thought about it, she owed him some equally personal tidbits. “So what about you? No husband? No kids? Married to your store?”
She brushed her hand along the top of the snow. “This time last year I was married.”
“Oh?” Something oddly territorial rattled through him, surprising him. Sure, he was attracted to her…but jealous? Of a guy from her past? That was just stupid.
She batted a hand. “I got dumped pretty much the same way you did.” Avoiding his gaze, she ran her mittened hand along the surface of the snow again. “One day he loved me. The next day he didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s certainly not your fault.” She caught his gaze, laughed lightly. “And I’m over him.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She shrugged. “Only a fool pines for someone who doesn’t want her.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She craned her neck so she could see Finley again, then she faced him. “She’s going to sleep like a rock tonight.”
Rory said, “Yeah,” but his mind was a million miles away. The easy way she’d dismissed her marriage had caused his jealousy to morph into relief that she wasn’t just free, she was happy to be free. That somehow mixed and mingled with his suddenly active hormones and he wanted to kiss her so badly he could taste it.
But that was wrong. Not only had he been hurt enough to never want to risk a relationship again, but she’d also been hurt. After less than twenty-four hours in her company he knew she was a sweet, sincere woman, who might take any romantic gesture as much more than he would intend it.
Still, that didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss her. With the snow in her hair, on her jacket, covering her jeans. If he slid his hands under her knit hat, to the thicket of springy black curls, and pulled her face to his, he could kiss her softly, easily just because they were having fun.
But would she realize it was a kiss of pure happiness over the fun afternoon? Or would she make more of it?
He pulled back. They were having too much fun— Finley was having too much fun—for him to spoil it over a craving for something he shouldn’t take.
He rose, put his hand down to help Shannon stand. “She’ll be back any second.”
“Do you think she’ll want to go down again?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Hope you’re rested.”
He grinned. “Hope you’re rested because I’m taking the saucer and you get the runner sled.”
With that he grabbed the saucer and joined Finley at the top of the slope. Shannon pretended great interest in the sled he’d left for
