Bring Me Home For Christmas. Робин КаррЧитать онлайн книгу.
first, all right? Obviously there are some hard feelings between us.”
She stuffed her hands back in her pockets. “Well, I was the one who got dumped and I’m not holding a grudge.”
“I said I was sorry and you dumped me right back. You have to admit, I apologized.”
She smirked and shook her head sadly. “That you did. That you did.”
“What else could I have done?”
“Well, I wonder,” she said. “Did it ever occur to you that you might have to do more than apologize? You could’ve tried twice, I guess. Or, hey—maybe even three times. You could’ve sent flowers or something. You could’ve tried to get the point across that you really were sorry and that you weren’t out of your mind anymore. But you were on the next train out of San Diego. Now, I’m cold. I’m going back in by the fire. I’m going to drink my wine, have a good meal, laugh with my new friends. If you want to be miserable, have at it. I really couldn’t care less.” She turned and went back into the bar.
And Denny thought, I could have changed everything with flowers?
They had a little camaraderie over dinner; some reminiscing among the guys, some jokes. The subject of Denny and Becca was strictly avoided. Denny was just a little more quiet than usual, but no one seemed to notice. Probably because Becca was adorable, funny and just slightly flirtatious.
Denny wanted to shake her.
No one was more relieved than Denny when it was time for everyone to say good-night and retire to their respective rooms. This event was not shaping up the way he expected.
Troy and Dirk went off to their cabin by the river and Denny and Rich went with Becca down the street to Denny’s efficiency over the Fitchs’ garage. “I’ll show Becca the room and pack a few things,” Denny said. “I can give her my keys and leave her my truck just in case, but she won’t need it.”
“Sure,” Rich said. “I’ll wait here. But let’s move it, huh? I’ve been up since before four….”
“Five minutes,” he said, heading inside.
Becca was already halfway up the stairs, struggling with a very large suitcase. He took the stairs two at a time and said, “I’ll get that.”
“No, please. I insist on pulling my own weight.”
“Come on, gimme,” he said, grabbing the suitcase out of her hand.
He nearly toppled down the stairs. It weighed a ton. “Jesus,” he swore. “What have you got in this thing?”
“Clothes. Warm clothes. A couple of jackets. Boots.”
“And bricks?”
“I was doing fine,” she said. “Let me have it.”
“No, I’ve got it,” he insisted. He winced as he hefted it, but he was not about to pull it up on its wheels, one step at a time, as she had been doing.
She skipped up the stairs ahead of him, getting out of his way, and waited at the top. “Thank you, Denny,” she said. “Very thoughtful.”
He opened the door.
“Oh.” She laughed. “I was waiting for you to unlock it.”
“Hardly anything is locked around here.” He flipped on the light just inside the door and dropped her bag.
Denny went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled out a military duffel. He went to the bathroom and got his shaving kit. While he was in there, he pulled out a clean towel for Becca, tossing his towel from the morning into the hamper. When he came out of the bathroom, she was standing in the middle of the room, checking it out. “There are clean sheets under the sink in the bathroom,” he said.
She looked around the room with interest. “This is very…cute.”
The bedspread was floral, the upholstery on the chair and ottoman was striped with some birds on it, the curtains yellow-and-white striped. The walls were yellow with white trim. “Mrs. Fitch decorated this room. She offered to butch it up a little but I told her not to bother. I’ve been looking around for something a little more…permanent. Larger.”
“Permanent?” she asked.
“That’s right,” he said, opening the chest of drawers to find his thermal underwear. It was going to be cold, wet and miserable at 4:00 a.m.
“Rich said you were planning to stay here awhile.”
“A long while,” he said. “I like it here.” He shoved the shaving kit, underwear, jeans and sweatshirt into the bag.
“You’re not coming back to San Diego?” she asked.
He gave a shrug. “What for?” he asked.
“Won’t you miss it? The sunshine and beach and wonderful weather?”
The look that came into his eyes was unmistakably sad. “There’s a lot about San Diego I’ll miss, Becca. But not the beach or the weather.” He hefted the bag over one shoulder and grabbed the twelve-gauge shotgun that leaned up against the wall.
“Really, Denny? You’d never come back?”
“What would I go back to San Diego for? We’re meeting at 4:00 a.m. at the bar tomorrow, Becca. Don’t make us wait for you. Dress in camouflage. You brought camouflage, right?”
“Right,” she said.
“See you in the morning,” he said, going out the door.
“Whew,” she said when the door closed. This was a bad idea. He hates me! Her next thought was, If I hadn’t come up here, I’d never have seen him again!
After brushing her teeth, washing her face and putting on some warm pajamas, she crawled into bed. She hadn’t bothered with the clean sheets, but she should have. She caught Denny’s scent on the linens and she remembered it far too distinctly. It was that perfect combination from both of them—her flowery scent combined with his masculine musk. It was so long ago she was astonished she could still summon it in her mind, but it came back to her effortlessly.
A tear escaped. They’re going to come after me with a net, she thought. What if she was still in love with him? And he hated her? How the hell was she going to have a life?
This is going to be torture, she thought. Pure torture.
Denny and Rich were all ready at the bar at 4:00 a.m. when Troy and Dirk arrived. Denny had Jack’s decoys and a duck boat in the back of Big Richie’s truck, a couple of thermoses of coffee and a box of sandwiches Preacher had gotten ready the night before.
“Jack’s from Sacramento and did a lot of hunting around there with his dad. He says you’re going to find it even better up here,” he told Troy and Dirk. “Colder, but better. He and Preacher prefer deer hunting, but they go out for a little fowl sometimes, so he showed me a great blind back in Trinity, not too far from here. You can follow us. We’re going to meet one of the neighbors out there—Muriel St. Claire. She’s a big waterfowl hunter and she’s bringing at least one of her dogs. Where’s Becca?”
“Right here,” she said from behind them.
He turned to look at her and grinned. She had high rubber boots over her army-green jeans, wore a brown turtleneck under a camouflage vest and covered her golden hair with a khaki hat. Hah! This was not a last-minute deal! “Where’s your gun?” he asked.
“I left it in Rich’s truck last night,” she said.
“You’re dressed perfect, Becca,” he pointed out to her.
“Why, thank you, Dennis. I looked up what to wear on Google.”
“Very smart,” he said. He knew his girl. Okay, she hadn’t been his girl in a long time, but she couldn’t have