“I don’t know,” she said calmly. “We’ll meet lots of new people here in Weaver.”
“I don’t want new people.” His pale face was pinched. “I want our old people.”
She hid a sigh behind a smile. Her seven-year-old brother wasn’t the only one with misgivings about moving to Weaver. But she wasn’t going to show hers to him when he already had more than enough for them both. “We still have our old people,” she assured him. “Braden’s not so far away that we won’t visit.” Just not every day. Not anymore.
She hid another sigh at the thought.
Noticing that the man angling across the deep snow had nearly reached them, she looked at Dillon. “Take your box inside. You can think about where to put the television.”
He clutched the bin even closer as he retraced his path from the car to the house, not taking his wary attention away from the man for a second.
Abby adjusted her grip on the packing box. She hoped that moving to Weaver hadn’t been a huge mistake. Dillon had already endured so much. For two years, she’d tried to follow her grandfather’s wishes. He was gone, but she was still trying. She just didn’t know if moving Dillon away from the only place of stability he’d ever known had been the right thing to do or not.
The sound of crunching snow ceased when the man stopped a few yards away. “You’re the new nurse over at the elementary school.” His voice was deep. More matter-of-fact than welcoming.
She tightened her grip on the heavy box, trying not to stare too hard at him. Lines radiated from his dark brown eyes. His overlong brown hair was liberally flecked with grays. What should have been pretty normal features for a man who looked to be in his late thirties, but the sum of the parts made him ruthlessly attractive.
She’d grown up in Braden, which was the closest town of any size to Weaver. She knew how small-town grapevines worked, so she wasn’t particularly surprised that he knew about her before she so much as opened her mouth. “I am. But I’ll be splitting my time with the junior high.” The schools were next door to each other, sharing their facilities. “I’m Abby Marcum.” She smiled. “And you are...?”
“From next door.” He stabbed the shovel into the snow.
She’d assumed that, given that he’d come from the house next door. “So that answers where.” The muscles in her arms were starting to shake, so she started toward the house, her boots plowing fresh paths through the snow. “What about who?”
“That looks too heavy for you.”
“Does it?” She kept right on moving, passing him on her way toward the three steps that led up to the front door.
“Would have been easier if you’d cleared the driveway before you started unpacking.”
Her fingers dug into the cardboard. “Probably,” she agreed blithely and lifted her boot, cautiously feeling for the first porch step. She’d have needed a snow shovel for that, though, and that wasn’t something she’d bothered trying to cram into her small car along with everything else. Weaver had hardware stores, after all. And neighbors who had shovels to borrow, too.
The man gave a mighty sigh, his bare hands brushing hers as he lifted the box out of her grasp. “The bottom’s about to give way,” he said and walked past her into the house.
She hurried after him. “Um, thanks.” He was already setting the box on the narrow breakfast bar separating the small living room from the even smaller kitchen. One look at the cardboard told her he was right. The crystal inside could have crashed right through. She flipped open the box and pulled out a few of the glasses she’d wrapped so carefully in newspaper just to make certain they’d safely survived. “My grandmother’s crystal.”
“Mmm.” He didn’t sound particularly interested as he looked around the living room. She’d bought the house furnished. And while the furniture that occupied the room was dated, it was clean and in good condition. With the half-dozen boxes that they’d already carried in stacked on the floor against the wall next to the brick fireplace, the small room was almost full. “It’s freezing in here.”
“I know. Something’s wrong with the furnace. I’ll get a fire started, though, soon as I get the car emptied. And once the holiday is over, I’ll call someone in to get the furnace going.”
She smiled across at Dillon, who was perched nervously on the edge of the couch, watching them with big eyes. He still wore his coat. She’d bought it at a clearance sale last year expecting that he would have grown into it by now. But he still looked dwarfed in it. “A fire will have us toasty warm in no time,” she told her little brother brightly.
“And then we get popcorn like you promised?”
Dillon loved popcorn like almost nothing else. “Absolutely.”
“You’ve got wood?”
At the deep-voiced question, she focused on the man and felt something jolt inside her. Lordy. He really was handsome. And vaguely familiar. “Um...no. No wood. But I’ll get some.” Along with that snow shovel. Having one of her own was better than borrowing.
“Stores are closed today and tomorrow for New Year’s.” His voice was even. Unemotional. “I’ve got plenty, though. I’ll bring some over.” He turned on his boot heel and left the house.
“Who is he?” Dillon whispered once he was gone.
“The neighbor. You can put away your games in the television cabinet. Soon as I finish with everything, I’ll play a game of ‘White Hats 3’ with you.” She’d gotten the latest version of the video game for him for Christmas and it was already his favorite. “Okay?”
He nodded and she went back outside.
The man had left the snow shovel sticking out of the snow banked against the side of the porch. She looked from it to the house next door. It was two-storied and twice the size of hers.
Definitely large enough to hold a wife and kids if Tall-Dark-and-Nameless had any.
She trudged back to the car and pulled the box containing their new television from the backseat. Her girlfriends from Braden had pooled their money together to buy it as a going-away present. It was mercifully lightweight, and she was heading up the steps with it in her arms when the neighbor appeared again bearing a load of wood in his arms.
She quickly got out of his way as he carried it inside. He crouched next to the brick hearth and started stacking the wood. As he worked, he looked over at her brother. “What’s your name?”
Dillon shot Abby a nervous look. “Dillon.”
The man’s face finally showed a little warmth. He smiled slightly. Gently. And even though it was directed at her little brother, Abby still felt the effect.
She let out a careful breath and set the television on the floor. Her girlfriends had also given her a box of Godiva chocolates before she’d left, with instructions to indulge herself on New Year’s Eve—and share the chocolates with a male other than her little brother.
The chocolates were in her suitcase. She could give the box to her no-name neighbor and technically live up to the promise she’d made. Of course, he’d probably take the chocolates home to his wife. Which wasn’t exactly what her girlfriends had in mind.
She shook off the silly thoughts and tried to focus on the television, but her gaze kept slipping back to the man, who was still looking at her little brother.
“You want to bring me some of that newspaper from your mom’s crystal?”
“She’s not my mom,” Dillon said as he slid off the couch and retrieved the crumpled papers that Abby had tossed aside. He sidled over