Page 37 of Christmas in Whitehorn
“Obviously not,” she murmured.
He swore under his breath. “Darcy, it’s not that. I just…”
He just what? Wanted her to tell him that she’d never done anything illegal in her life? Or say that she wasn’t like Sylvia? That it was safe for him to sleep with her because she wasn’t going to try and hold him, but instead would freely let him go when he needed to run?
He knew he was being a jerk. Some of it was the investigation, some of it was his past. He couldn’t help wondering if he had any responsibility in Sylvia’s suicide. Telling himself he didn’t hadn’t erased the questions.
Was he screwing up Darcy’s life by getting involved with her? Was he willing to walk away?
She finished with the first Santa and moved on to a second. There were already a couple of dozen cookies drying on racks on the kitchen counter. Santas and green trees with tiny ornaments, stars and candy canes. She worked quickly, with an ease that came with long practice. The overhead light turned the tips of her blond hair to gold. Her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks.
“Do you make cookies every year?” he asked.
“Sure. Some I give away. I’m taking a few dozen over to the hospital tomorrow for the kids and the staff. I’ll be selling some through the Hip Hop. I really enjoy holiday baking.”
He hated what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself. He crossed to the table and pulled out a chair. Right now he needed answers more than he needed to be her friend. No way would he admit that he just might be using the case to keep his emotional distance.
“It must be nice to have a white Christmas after all those years in Arizona.”
She glanced out the window. Snow fell steadily. They were due to get a couple of inches that night. Humor brightened her eyes.
“I agree that the snow is picturesque, but there are times I really miss the heat. I’m sure that come mid-January I’ll be wishing I was back in the desert.”
He itched to pull out his pad and start taking notes. “Is that why you moved from Illinois to Arizona in the first place? To get away from the winter?”
He hated that she looked away before answering.
“Some of it. Also, I’d just lost my parents and I wanted a change.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t want to stay where everything was familiar. Starting over isn’t easy.”
“I see your point, but it was different for me. None of my so-called friends had stayed by me. I didn’t think I was giving anything up by moving on.”
The argument sounded convincing, but her body language and his gut told him otherwise.
“What brought you back to the Midwest? And why Montana?”
Darcy carefully finished the last Santa coat, then switched to white icing. As she piped on trim, she nibbled on her bottom lip.
“It was time to try somewhere new,” she said at last. “As for Montana, I don’t know. I’d heard so much about it. There’s a lot of natural beauty here—outdoor sports, that sort of thing.”
He doubted she could get a pair of skis into her car, and she didn’t have a roof rack. Besides, Darcy didn’t strike him as the sports type. When would she find the time? Between her full-time job at the Hip Hop and her baking, she seemed to keep herself busy.
“Why all the questions?” she asked softly.
Now it was his turn to look away. “No reason.”
“I think there might be. You didn’t come into the café today. Are you avoiding me, Mark?”
“There’s a new case. I can’t talk about it.”
She accepted his explanation with a nod. Either she didn’t notice he hadn’t answered her question, or she wasn’t going to push it.
“What about your friend’s death? I’m sure you’re not over that.”
He grimaced. “Sylvia wasn’t a friend.”
“I think you two were very close.”
