How could she hover on the outskirts of his life, content to see him only once in a while at some barbecue at Wyn and Cade’s house, when she wanted so much more?
Regardless of how much her children might be coming to care about him and regardless of her own growing feelings, it was completely impossible.
He was a dedicated lawman. It was as much a part of him as his skin, his bones, his heart. She had lost one man she loved because of his dedication to the job—because he had tried to save someone else, instead of thinking of the family waiting for him at home. She couldn’t put herself in that precarious position again and she refused to do it to Chloe and Will.
For her own sake and for her children’s, she needed to do her best to return their relationship to the semi-cordial but distant one of the first few days after his injury.
How was she supposed to do that when they were living in his house for now?
She sighed quietly, but it was loud enough that Sadie, stretched out beside his chair, lifted her head to look at her. This in turn caught Marshall’s attention just as he read the last page.
“What am I doing wrong?” he asked.
Besides breaking my heart? “Nothing,” she answered. “Why would you ask?”
“You were frowning,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve read aloud to kids and I thought maybe I was going too fast or too slow.”
She scrambled to think up a convincing excuse. “No. Sorry. I was thinking what a pain this must be for you, having your space suddenly invaded by us while you’re still trying to heal.”
“Yeah. I’m doing my best to endure it.”
She didn’t miss his dry tone or the affectionate look he gave her children, which wasn’t helping at all.
“Story’s done now. Time for bed, you two.”
“Do we have to?” Will said, a telltale sleepy whine in his voice.
“Yes. You and Chloe both have school tomorrow.”
“Unless we have another snow day,” Chloe said hopefully.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Marshall told her. “The snow stopped a few hours ago and I think we’re done with it for a while, which means the plows will have plenty of time through the night to clear the roads for the buses.”
They groaned in unison as they slid down, both careful not to bump his outstretched cast.
“What are you complaining about? You’ve both got Christmas parties tomorrow that you don’t want to miss, remember? But if you want to have fun tomorrow, you need to sleep tonight.”
That cheered them both up enough that they brushed their teeth without further complaint. After going through the regular routine of prayers and kisses and tucking them in, she headed for the kitchen to return the nearly full glass of water Will had insisted he couldn’t sleep without—then had handed back to her after taking only two swallows.
She stopped short when she realized Marshall stood by the sink. He turned when he heard her and her heart pounded. He looked big and tough and gorgeous and she felt like a stupid, silly girl who had forgotten how to talk to a boy.
They were alone, she suddenly realized. The children were in bed and would probably sleep soundly through the night. The smartest thing to do right now would be to take care of the task that had brought her in here, then escape to her bedroom, close the door and hide out where she was safe until morning.
“I, um, just need to add this to the dishwasher,” she said.
He moved out of the way and she opened the door and found a spot for the glass on the top rack, then closed it again.
She was intensely aware of him—the hint of evening shadow on his face, the way his hair was a little messed in the back, the woodsy scent of his soap.
She forced a smile, doing her best to ignore the impact all that had on her resolve.
“Thanks for reading to Will and Chloe. They really seemed to enjoy it.”
“So did I,” he answered. “It was a great story.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” she said. “Will is probably still a little young for it, but I read it last year to Chloe and she loved it.”
He gave that rare smile that never failed to make butterflies jump in her stomach.
She firmly ignored them. “I should let Sadie out one more time, and then she and I will try to get out of your way for the evening.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “You’re not in my way, I mean.”
He was in her way—so much that she didn’t know how she was ever going to dislodge him.
“We’ve invaded your space enough for the day,” she said after she opened the door for the dog to trot outside. “I’m sure you’re ready for a break from the noisy Montgomerys.”