Read Online A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe by Vicki Lewis Thompson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson
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though, because she’d commented that soon he’d be glad for the ballroom dancing lessons she’d foisted on him. He’d secretly had fun taking them although he’d complained long and loud every week. He was good at it, better than any other guy in the class.
And he had been grateful for the lessons once he’d started going to dances in high school. A fast two-step lifted his heart and made him forget everything but the music. He wished he could have told his mom that she’d given him a tool that had helped a whole lot.
Once he was in his truck, he cranked up the heater and started toward Whitney’s apartment. Then, on impulse, he turned down the street that would take him into his old neighborhood. He never drove by the house, but tonight he felt the urge to test himself and see what happened.
Slowing the truck, he leaned down to gaze through the window at the two-story house where he’d spent the first fourteen years of his life. Lights were on and whoever lived there now had put up Christmas decorations. The roof was lined with multicolored bulbs and a blow-up Santa and sleigh sat in the small front yard.
The front walk was shoveled and the house looked taken care of. That was good. He wouldn’t have wanted the place to get run-down. Tension that had gathered in his chest eased. He’d seen the house and hadn’t been hit with a tidal wave of grief.
He continued on to Whitney’s apartment complex with a sense of accomplishment, as if he’d jumped a hurdle he’d been avoiding for years. He told everyone he was at peace with losing his parents because then they tended to leave the subject alone. He wasn’t about to let anyone dig into his past and open up old wounds.
Whitney seemed sensitive to that. Helping decorate her tree had skimmed the surface of his past like a light breeze over tall grass. He’d felt the memories stir, which was probably why he’d had the wayward thought about her meeting his parents and why he’d felt like driving by his old house.
Apparently he could handle that kind of gentle visit to his previous life without falling apart. He was relieved to find that out because being around Whitney seemed to cause random memories to surface. But just because he’d survived helping with her tree and seeing his childhood home didn’t mean he wanted to unpack the photo albums stored in the back of his closet.
Theoretically he should be able to recall every page in those albums, but he couldn’t remember a single picture or even what his parents had looked like. A guy with a photographic memory should be able to visualize his own parents, but he couldn’t. He’d never told anyone that, not even Rosie. Sure as the world she’d have pushed him to see a therapist. No thanks.
Once he’d arrived in her apartment, he heard nothing from her neighbors. Good soundproofing. Wouldn’t have to worry about waking the neighbors later on tonight.
The living room felt like Christmas with the glow from the tree lights and the scent of pine in the air. Crouching down, he saw a timer in the wall plug. He used a timer for his artificial tree so he was greeted by lights every night when he came home, but maybe he should think about getting a real tree this year. He’d forgotten how great they smelled.
As he took off his coat, he admired the job she’d done with the decorations. Wired red ribbon had been woven through the branches and the little teddy bear anchored to the top made him smile. Glass snowflakes and icicles sparkled in the light and the ornaments all were different.
Leaving his coat and hat on the futon, he checked them out and soon realized each bore a different date. He counted twenty-seven It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she had one for each year of her life. Nice. In a way he was glad he hadn’t helped put them on. Accidentally dropping one would have been bad.
So, here he was in her apartment. He could sit down and watch TV, which sounded boring, or he could prowl
And he had been grateful for the lessons once he’d started going to dances in high school. A fast two-step lifted his heart and made him forget everything but the music. He wished he could have told his mom that she’d given him a tool that had helped a whole lot.
Once he was in his truck, he cranked up the heater and started toward Whitney’s apartment. Then, on impulse, he turned down the street that would take him into his old neighborhood. He never drove by the house, but tonight he felt the urge to test himself and see what happened.
Slowing the truck, he leaned down to gaze through the window at the two-story house where he’d spent the first fourteen years of his life. Lights were on and whoever lived there now had put up Christmas decorations. The roof was lined with multicolored bulbs and a blow-up Santa and sleigh sat in the small front yard.
The front walk was shoveled and the house looked taken care of. That was good. He wouldn’t have wanted the place to get run-down. Tension that had gathered in his chest eased. He’d seen the house and hadn’t been hit with a tidal wave of grief.
He continued on to Whitney’s apartment complex with a sense of accomplishment, as if he’d jumped a hurdle he’d been avoiding for years. He told everyone he was at peace with losing his parents because then they tended to leave the subject alone. He wasn’t about to let anyone dig into his past and open up old wounds.
Whitney seemed sensitive to that. Helping decorate her tree had skimmed the surface of his past like a light breeze over tall grass. He’d felt the memories stir, which was probably why he’d had the wayward thought about her meeting his parents and why he’d felt like driving by his old house.
Apparently he could handle that kind of gentle visit to his previous life without falling apart. He was relieved to find that out because being around Whitney seemed to cause random memories to surface. But just because he’d survived helping with her tree and seeing his childhood home didn’t mean he wanted to unpack the photo albums stored in the back of his closet.
Theoretically he should be able to recall every page in those albums, but he couldn’t remember a single picture or even what his parents had looked like. A guy with a photographic memory should be able to visualize his own parents, but he couldn’t. He’d never told anyone that, not even Rosie. Sure as the world she’d have pushed him to see a therapist. No thanks.
Once he’d arrived in her apartment, he heard nothing from her neighbors. Good soundproofing. Wouldn’t have to worry about waking the neighbors later on tonight.
The living room felt like Christmas with the glow from the tree lights and the scent of pine in the air. Crouching down, he saw a timer in the wall plug. He used a timer for his artificial tree so he was greeted by lights every night when he came home, but maybe he should think about getting a real tree this year. He’d forgotten how great they smelled.
As he took off his coat, he admired the job she’d done with the decorations. Wired red ribbon had been woven through the branches and the little teddy bear anchored to the top made him smile. Glass snowflakes and icicles sparkled in the light and the ornaments all were different.
Leaving his coat and hat on the futon, he checked them out and soon realized each bore a different date. He counted twenty-seven It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she had one for each year of her life. Nice. In a way he was glad he hadn’t helped put them on. Accidentally dropping one would have been bad.
So, here he was in her apartment. He could sit down and watch TV, which sounded boring, or he could prowl