Later, during a lull in visitors to the booth, Carlisle reflected that answering questions from the mass of people attending the festival had turned out to be both more and less difficult than he’d expected. Most people made simple inquiries about things like the cost of ski passes and hours of operation, information they could glean by reading the posters the resort had provided for the booth. Or he simply handed out pamphlets which Gretchen’s staff had also provided. Only occasionally did someone actually inquire about avalanche control.
And a fair number of women paused to flirt with him, something he’d not expected at all.
Merry maintained a small line almost the entire time. It appeared the salon she worked for must have advertised the painting options because both she and the other stylist greeted several of the people by name. They did a good job of handing out business cards to new people. The other hairstylist had a dab hand at face painting for the children and make-up for the adults. Merry did quite a clever job with the nail painting.
She did, however, have to hold firm several times when people wanted her to paint their toenails. Carlisle overheard her explain several times that it wasn’t possible because she didn’t have the facilities at the booth to clean their feet. The first time he heard her say that, he shuddered at the thought of painting someone’s stinky toenails. She’d refused with finesse and diplomacy.
He did find it curious that her employer would have the two stylists provide services the salon didn’t. Not that he had much experience in the beauty industry, aside from collecting Cressy after an appointment to have her hair or nails done.
“Why does your salon offer face painting?” he asked Merry when there was finally a lull in her customers.
“It draws people. They bring their kids over to get their faces painted, and we rave about services the salon provides.” Merry straightened and arched her back.
“Where does it hurt?” Carlisle started massaging her shoulders.
“I got jumped on in a pool when I was a kid, and it bothers me when I have to sit hunched over for long periods of time. The top of my spine goes numb. A little more toward the center. Right there.” She gave a soft groan.
Carlisle tried to focus on the knotted muscles under his fingers, but he found himself instead conscious of the slender, graceful neck with curling wisps of beautiful, dark hair. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss the soft skin of Merry’s neck. He shifted his hand from her shoulder to the back curve of her jaw. She stilled under his touch, and her breath caught.
The soft sound reminded him they weren’t alone. Carlisle dropped his hands, surprised at how powerful his pull to her had been. Merry stepped away, her color heightened. He glanced at her coworker. She stared at them incredulously, her eyes round.
“Would you like a neck massage as well?” he asked lamely and felt the idiot afterward, especially when the young woman shook her head vehemently. What must she think of him? His heart sank. What did Merry think of him?
“This would, perhaps, be a good time to take the children to the restroom,” he suggested, though he found he couldn’t meet her gaze.
“Good idea. You can take Alex, and I’ll take Grace.” Merry extended a hand to his daughter, and Carlisle finally looked up to meet Merry’s gaze. She was no longer flushed, but she definitely had a question in her eyes.
And something he hadn’t expected. Fear.
* * *
When they returned homethat night, Merry had to carry Alex inside. A day helping with the festival was always a draining one, but today had been particularly so. She’d never actuallyworkedone before, always simply helping her mother in the past. Beingon the jobfor the salon had given Merry less freedom, which she found she hadn’t liked.
Her thoughts drifted again to what it’d be like if she owned her own shop—or had a boss she liked. She told herself it was a waste of time. She made a good living where she was, and her focus now was on Alex.
She considered how emotional she’d gotten while visiting the trees; she hadn’t expected that. It’d been nearly two years now, and she’d thought there weren’t any more surprises to make her stumble.
Carlisle at Merry’s side had helped more than she could have imagined. Something in his manner as he’d offered her support had made her wonder if he were dealing with his own holiday memories. Maybe that’s why so much comfort had radiated from him. She liked the idea that she might have given him some comfort back.
Unbidden, she recalled his impromptu neck massage, and a delicious tingle ran down her spine. His tender touch had elicited feelings she’d almost forgotten, emotions she wasn’t sure she wanted to awaken.
And definitely not for him. He wasn’t going to stay here. He’d finish his special project meant to honor his late wife, and then he’d leave and take his charming little daughter away with him. Her mother’s suggestion of using him as a practice run was dangerous, and Merry knew it.
Besides, she didn’t like the way the idea made her feel, like she’d be one of those women who used men and then cast them aside. Carlisle Wyndham wasn’t anything like those rich snobby people she’d met before. He was a good man, who’d loved his wife, and was crazy about his daughter. He had a tender heart. And he was Merry’s friend. When the time came for him to love again, she wanted him to find a woman who would be good for him and for Grace.
Alex had barely stirred enough to help get into his pajamas. She put him into his bed, drew up the covers, and kissed his forehead. Was Carlisle having a hard time getting Grace ready for bed too?
Merry resisted the temptation to call him and find out. They’d likely talk for hours though, and she had to get up early. She and Alex had plans to visit Ray’s mother out at the ranch. Those were always long days. In the home where her first love had grown up, seeing the things he’d loved, Merry would get back on two feet.
Because Carlisle Wyndham was seriously messing with her head, and she was spending too much time in the clouds. She couldn’t afford to set herself up to be heartbroken when he left.
If it wasn’t too late already.
10
“So, boss,” Nia asked when Carlisle entered the office on Monday morning, “how’d it go at the festival? I want you to know I had to pull some major strings to get them to move your booth next to the one for the salon.”
He stopped in the process of removing his overcoat and slowly turned to face her. “That wasn’t happenstance? You arranged it?”
