breadwinner, or all that touchy-feely, but he was still her father.
“Don’t get yourself worked up. His lungs just aren’t as strong as they used to be. Doc thinks the fumes from his years of house painting are to blame.”
Sometime during Snow’s high school years, her father had started his own house painting business, and thanks to being his own boss, stuck with it. He never made much money, but being his own man had made him easier to live with.
“Maybe I can come down between Christmas and New Year’s,” Snow said.
“You and Caleb are always welcome.”
“Mama . . .”
“Like I said, just give him a chance. The fact that he’s there should tell you something, baby. That boy’s a keeper.”
That boy needed to go home. Alone. And by Christmas, Snow would make sure he did.
Several hours later, Snow parked her red Nissan next to Caleb’s Jeep in front of Miss Hattie’s garage, but she didn’t bother getting out. Instead, she stared unseeing through the windshield, contemplating how to handle the next few minutes. She’d agreed to Caleb’s terms. He had a month to change her mind. Only no matter how he tried, Snow would have to let him go. Which had been her intention all along, but when she was with him, her determination wavered.
And this had been the reason she’d run away in the first place. Snow knew, with every ounce of her being, that she and Caleb were not meant to be, but then he’d smile or say the right thing and her misgivings went right out the window. If she’d told him she was unhappy, he’d have convinced her things would get better. If she’d asked for a divorce, Caleb’s easy charm would have had her begging to stay before she’d known what she was saying. She couldn’t reason with him, and she couldn’t keep her heart out of the equation when he was around.
But in the end, she couldn’t hurt him. Not the kind of hurt that would come with learning his own mother had kept her secret. When Snow had been certain that notice of the end of their marriage would come in the mail at any time, she didn’t have to think about the mess she’d created. Regardless of what some Louisiana law said, she’d had no intention of taking a dime from Caleb. She only wanted to give him his life back and let him move on to find the right girl.
The society princess who would give him perfect babies, throw perfect dinner parties, and please his persnickety parents.
Vivien McGraw likely had a batch of Southern debutantes ready and willing to fill Snow’s shoes. Picturing her husband showing off his new bride—tall and slender with the body of an underwear model, waves of blonde hair dancing around her shoulders, and proof of pedigree in her dainty clutch—made her nearly toss what little salad she’d managed to swallow for lunch.
Snow’s grandmother’s voice echoed through her mind. “Rip it quick and sure, baby. Draggin’ it out only makes it worse.”
That’s what she needed to do. Walk inside and send Caleb back where he belonged. This one-month thing had been pointless from the start. She’d revert to her original plan. Be impossible to live with until he couldn’t hit the road fast enough.
Her mind set, Snow climbed out of the car, marched through the garden gate and up her porch steps. He’d left the light on for her, something that softened the girlish section of her brain. She hardened her heart. A little light didn’t mean anything. Caleb needed to go.
With one final deep breath for courage, Snow opened and stepped through her front door ready to be the shrew of all shrews. Except there was no one in sight. It wasn’t as if her apartment was so big that Caleb could hide somewhere. His Jeep was outside, so he had to be here. The scent of something spicy and mouthwatering filled her senses, pulling Snow toward the kitchen.
Lifting the lid on the pot simmering on the stove, she couldn’t believe her eyes. How did Caleb know how to make chicken and
“Don’t get yourself worked up. His lungs just aren’t as strong as they used to be. Doc thinks the fumes from his years of house painting are to blame.”
Sometime during Snow’s high school years, her father had started his own house painting business, and thanks to being his own boss, stuck with it. He never made much money, but being his own man had made him easier to live with.
“Maybe I can come down between Christmas and New Year’s,” Snow said.
“You and Caleb are always welcome.”
“Mama . . .”
“Like I said, just give him a chance. The fact that he’s there should tell you something, baby. That boy’s a keeper.”
That boy needed to go home. Alone. And by Christmas, Snow would make sure he did.
Several hours later, Snow parked her red Nissan next to Caleb’s Jeep in front of Miss Hattie’s garage, but she didn’t bother getting out. Instead, she stared unseeing through the windshield, contemplating how to handle the next few minutes. She’d agreed to Caleb’s terms. He had a month to change her mind. Only no matter how he tried, Snow would have to let him go. Which had been her intention all along, but when she was with him, her determination wavered.
And this had been the reason she’d run away in the first place. Snow knew, with every ounce of her being, that she and Caleb were not meant to be, but then he’d smile or say the right thing and her misgivings went right out the window. If she’d told him she was unhappy, he’d have convinced her things would get better. If she’d asked for a divorce, Caleb’s easy charm would have had her begging to stay before she’d known what she was saying. She couldn’t reason with him, and she couldn’t keep her heart out of the equation when he was around.
But in the end, she couldn’t hurt him. Not the kind of hurt that would come with learning his own mother had kept her secret. When Snow had been certain that notice of the end of their marriage would come in the mail at any time, she didn’t have to think about the mess she’d created. Regardless of what some Louisiana law said, she’d had no intention of taking a dime from Caleb. She only wanted to give him his life back and let him move on to find the right girl.
The society princess who would give him perfect babies, throw perfect dinner parties, and please his persnickety parents.
Vivien McGraw likely had a batch of Southern debutantes ready and willing to fill Snow’s shoes. Picturing her husband showing off his new bride—tall and slender with the body of an underwear model, waves of blonde hair dancing around her shoulders, and proof of pedigree in her dainty clutch—made her nearly toss what little salad she’d managed to swallow for lunch.
Snow’s grandmother’s voice echoed through her mind. “Rip it quick and sure, baby. Draggin’ it out only makes it worse.”
That’s what she needed to do. Walk inside and send Caleb back where he belonged. This one-month thing had been pointless from the start. She’d revert to her original plan. Be impossible to live with until he couldn’t hit the road fast enough.
Her mind set, Snow climbed out of the car, marched through the garden gate and up her porch steps. He’d left the light on for her, something that softened the girlish section of her brain. She hardened her heart. A little light didn’t mean anything. Caleb needed to go.
With one final deep breath for courage, Snow opened and stepped through her front door ready to be the shrew of all shrews. Except there was no one in sight. It wasn’t as if her apartment was so big that Caleb could hide somewhere. His Jeep was outside, so he had to be here. The scent of something spicy and mouthwatering filled her senses, pulling Snow toward the kitchen.
Lifting the lid on the pot simmering on the stove, she couldn’t believe her eyes. How did Caleb know how to make chicken and
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