Snowbound - Harlequin.com

252 SNOWBOUND
patio he had helped his dad lay when he’d been maybe
twelve or thirteen. Bricks had weathered and chipped,
and moss and some creeper his mother had turned loose
now nibbled at the mortar and softened the edges.
He told her about innkeeping and the more unusual
guests he’d had, and bragged about his cooking.
Sparkling, delighted, his mother exclaimed, “I’ll
let you demonstrate while you’re home.” Her face
dimmed. “Oh. I didn’t think. You might not be planning
to stay with us.”
He was lost. He could no more tell his mother he
didn’t want to stay than he could have gone out and shot
a doe for recreation.
“Liz gave me the key to her place so I could water
plants.” Did she have any? “But I was planning to stay
here, if it’s okay with you.”
His mother gave him a smile so radiant, it made his
chest ache. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more than
to have you here. For however long you want to stay.”
His eyes burned. “I don’t deserve you, Mom.”
She half-stood so she could kiss his cheek. “Of
course you do! Never, never doubt it. You were a good
boy, and you’re a good man, John Fallon.”
The women in his family seemed to know how to
make him cry. But—funny thing—each time, the tears
seemed to cleanse him of bitterness and remind him of
a humanity he’d feared he no longer possessed.
“THE DAY YOU GOT HURT.”
Until this moment, John couldn’t have said what
color the counselor’s eyes were. They weren’t startling