Read Online Moonlight Man by Judy Griffith Gill - Free Book Online
Authors: Judy Griffith Gill
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your father?”
She smiled. Talking to him was easy, as long as they didn’t get caught up in conversations that could lead to trouble. “His parents died young, too, so I just barely remember them.”
“Do you remember your mother’s parents?”
“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, they live in Victoria, not far from the McKenzies.”
“Oh. When you said that your father’s parents died young, too, I thought you meant they had as well.”
“I meant my parents. They died when I was eighteen—a week before my nineteenth birthday.”
“I see.” His voice was gentle. “And your grandparents? Are they too old to travel?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
He frowned. “Yet they didn’t attend your sister’s wedding?”
“No,” she said, watching her children dismount ahead of them, and readying herself to ski down the steep ramp. She stood, pushed off from the edge of the chair, and came to a stop beyond the end of the ramp where the kids were waiting. “All right,” she said, “let’s go.”
But as the children headed down the slope, her arm was caught in a fierce grip, pinning her where she stood. “Why won’t you talk about your family?”
Her gaze flew to his face. “I thought I just had.”
“Your grandparents. They’re alive, and yet when your son was lost, and then your sister, you were alone except for Max’s family. I used to sit in my camper after searching all day and think about you, about how alone you must be feeling. Yet you have family. Why weren’t they with you?”
She looked up at him, then down at the large, gloved hand that held her arm. Slowly, he eased his grip and let her go with a murmured apology.
“You have family. Why weren’t you with them for Christmas?”
“There are … reasons. Things I have yet to deal with.”
“And there,” she said, “is my answer to you. Only I don’t intend to deal with them. My sister and I do not get along with our grandparents. They don’t want to know about us and our lives, and we can live with that. End of story. Now, I came to ski. What did you come for?”
“The same as always. I came to be where you are.” He held his position in front of her for another second, then leaned forward and brushed his mouth over her cold lips. They didn’t remain cold long. The contact sent an electric shock and a bolt of heat through her.
With a firm shove on her poles, she shot back from him, turned quickly, and headed directly down the fall line, trying to catch up to her children.
With them, she would be safe. She watched Roxy navigate a steep bit of the slope like a pro, and thought how easily children relearned old lessons.
As a large form in a red jacket with blue sleeves caught up with her and skied beside her, she thought, too, how easily a woman’s body could relearn things best forgotten. That short, hard kiss still burned her lips when she reached the foot of the slope, even though her cheeks stung with cold.
The four of them skied together for the rest of the afternoon, and Sharon couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more. Not only was Marc an excellent skier who was more than willing to give both children impromptu lessons, but he had a sense of humor that could get her laughing and keep her that way until her sides ached. When she finally dragged her exhausted but reluctant children toward the chalet, she was sorry she’d agreed to spend the night there. She would have enjoyed leaving when Marc did, and maybe seeing him again that evening. However, instead of heading toward the parking lot and his truck, he came along beside them in the direction of the chalets.
“I’m parked over in the campground,” he said. “Could I invite you to dinner?”
“Hey! Yeah! Mom, that’s great! Let’s go,” said Jason with his usual enthusiasm. “You know you’re always too tired to cook after skiing all day. What are you making, Marc?”
“It’s already made. A big pot of stew simmering in my slow-cooker. I
She smiled. Talking to him was easy, as long as they didn’t get caught up in conversations that could lead to trouble. “His parents died young, too, so I just barely remember them.”
“Do you remember your mother’s parents?”
“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, they live in Victoria, not far from the McKenzies.”
“Oh. When you said that your father’s parents died young, too, I thought you meant they had as well.”
“I meant my parents. They died when I was eighteen—a week before my nineteenth birthday.”
“I see.” His voice was gentle. “And your grandparents? Are they too old to travel?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
He frowned. “Yet they didn’t attend your sister’s wedding?”
“No,” she said, watching her children dismount ahead of them, and readying herself to ski down the steep ramp. She stood, pushed off from the edge of the chair, and came to a stop beyond the end of the ramp where the kids were waiting. “All right,” she said, “let’s go.”
But as the children headed down the slope, her arm was caught in a fierce grip, pinning her where she stood. “Why won’t you talk about your family?”
Her gaze flew to his face. “I thought I just had.”
“Your grandparents. They’re alive, and yet when your son was lost, and then your sister, you were alone except for Max’s family. I used to sit in my camper after searching all day and think about you, about how alone you must be feeling. Yet you have family. Why weren’t they with you?”
She looked up at him, then down at the large, gloved hand that held her arm. Slowly, he eased his grip and let her go with a murmured apology.
“You have family. Why weren’t you with them for Christmas?”
“There are … reasons. Things I have yet to deal with.”
“And there,” she said, “is my answer to you. Only I don’t intend to deal with them. My sister and I do not get along with our grandparents. They don’t want to know about us and our lives, and we can live with that. End of story. Now, I came to ski. What did you come for?”
“The same as always. I came to be where you are.” He held his position in front of her for another second, then leaned forward and brushed his mouth over her cold lips. They didn’t remain cold long. The contact sent an electric shock and a bolt of heat through her.
With a firm shove on her poles, she shot back from him, turned quickly, and headed directly down the fall line, trying to catch up to her children.
With them, she would be safe. She watched Roxy navigate a steep bit of the slope like a pro, and thought how easily children relearned old lessons.
As a large form in a red jacket with blue sleeves caught up with her and skied beside her, she thought, too, how easily a woman’s body could relearn things best forgotten. That short, hard kiss still burned her lips when she reached the foot of the slope, even though her cheeks stung with cold.
The four of them skied together for the rest of the afternoon, and Sharon couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed herself more. Not only was Marc an excellent skier who was more than willing to give both children impromptu lessons, but he had a sense of humor that could get her laughing and keep her that way until her sides ached. When she finally dragged her exhausted but reluctant children toward the chalet, she was sorry she’d agreed to spend the night there. She would have enjoyed leaving when Marc did, and maybe seeing him again that evening. However, instead of heading toward the parking lot and his truck, he came along beside them in the direction of the chalets.
“I’m parked over in the campground,” he said. “Could I invite you to dinner?”
“Hey! Yeah! Mom, that’s great! Let’s go,” said Jason with his usual enthusiasm. “You know you’re always too tired to cook after skiing all day. What are you making, Marc?”
“It’s already made. A big pot of stew simmering in my slow-cooker. I
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