Page 23 of Snowed-in With The Mountain Man
"All of it." I move closer, not quite touching her. "I was an ass."
A tiny smile flickers at the corner of her mouth. "Yes, you were."
"I just want to protect you both." I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up again. "The thought of that bastard showing up here, threatening you?—"
"I know." Her voice softens slightly. "But I need you to understand something, Ridge. I spent two years having my decisions questioned, my judgment undermined. I won't go back to that."
"I'm not him." The words come out harsher than intended.
"No, you're not." She finally meets my eyes fully. "Which is why it hurt so much when you didn't trust me to know what works with Rick."
The simple truth of her words hits home. I didn't trust her judgment. After everything she's been through, I steamrolled right over her expertise on her own situation.
"You're right." I take a deep breath. "I should have listened. You know him better than anyone."
Some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "So what now? He's still coming today."
"Now, we do this your way." I step closer, relieved when she doesn't back away. "But I have a compromise to offer."
Her eyebrow raises. "I'm listening."
"You meet him at Darlene's like you planned. I'll be there, but at a different table like I suggested." I hold up a hand when she starts to protest. "Not to interfere. Not to confront him. Just to be nearby if you need me."
She considers this, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "And you'll stay back unless I signal you?"
"Promise." I hold her gaze, willing her to see my sincerity. "I trust you to handle this. I just want to be your backup."
After what feels like an eternity, she nods. "Okay. But you can't look like you're about to murder someone the entire time."
"I'll work on my resting face." The joke falls flat, but she offers a small smile anyway.
A soft pattering of feet announces Chellie's arrival. She appears in the doorway, Mr. Bunny dragging behind her, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Pancakes?" she asks hopefully, looking between us.
"Coming right up, princess." I move to the stove, grateful for the distraction. "Chocolate chip or blueberry?"
"Chips!" she declares, climbing onto her chair at the table.
As I prepare breakfast, I watch Stella help Chellie with her water cup, tuck a napkin into her shirt collar, smooth her wild curls with gentle fingers. These small, maternal gestures twist something in my chest. This is what I want. Every morning. For the rest of my life.
"The roads should be clear enough by noon," I say, flipping pancakes onto plates. "Plow's already been through the main road, according to Colt's text."
Stella nods, tension returning to her frame. "I told Rick to meet me at one."
"Then we have time to prepare." I set plates before them both, rewarded with Chellie's delighted grin at the chocolate chips melting into pools on her pancakes.
"Thank, Widge!" She digs in immediately, chocolate smearing across her cheeks.
Over her head, my eyes meet Stella's. The wall between us isn't completely gone, but there's a door in it now, slightly ajar. It's a start.
After breakfast, we work together preparing for the trip into town. Stella packs a small bag for Chellie with snacks and a change of clothes. I check the truck, making sure the melting snow hasn't caused any issues. By eleven, we're ready to leave, the tension between us shifting into something more purposeful.
"Remember what we practiced, baby," Stella kneels before Chellie by the front door. "If a man you don't know tries to talk to you or pick you up, what do you say?"
"NO!" Chellie shouts, face screwed up in fierce determination. "Not my daddy!"
My heart clenches at the rehearsed words, at the necessity of teaching a two-year-old to reject a stranger claiming to be her father.
