1420135090 (R) by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online Page B

by lightning. If that’s what happened, we could be down till the power company makes it through the snow. Have you got a handy flashlight, Muriel?”
    “Just the one we lent Henry,” Muriel said. “Maybe you ought to call him and make sure he’s all right.”
    “Good idea.” Shane had the number of Henry’s landline on his cell. The old man answered on the first ring.
    “I’m fine,” Henry said. “Since I’m the one with the good flashlight, do you want me to go out to the shed and try to crank up the generator? It hasn’t been run for a while. Might need some fresh gas and some tinkerin’.”
    “No, stay put. I’ll help you in the morning when it’s light enough to see what we’re doing. We’ll be fine till then. Just stay safe and keep warm.”
    Shane ended the call. By now, his eyes were getting used to the dark. He could see the outlines of windows and furniture and the huddled shape that was the boy in the far corner of the kitchen. “Any candles?” he asked Muriel.
    “Hall closet, bottom shelf,” she answered from the living room. “I can come and—”
    “No, I’ll find them.” The last thing Shane wanted was to have a seventy-nine-year-old woman stumble and break a bone. He made his way down the pitch-dark hallway; he found the closet and groped along the low shelf until his fingers closed on a bundle of tapered candles bound with a rubber band.
    Holding the candles, he straightened, turned, and stepped out of the closet—only to bump into something soft, warm, and womanly. Even in the dark, there was no mistaking Kylie’s luscious curves.
    A jolt went through his body. He lowered his arms, resisting the urge to touch her. If his hand ended up in the wrong place, he’d be in serious danger of getting his face slapped.
    With a little gasp, she drew back, thrusting a small cardboard box between them. “Matches,” she said. “They were on the hearth. Muriel wanted me to bring them to you.”
    “Thanks.” Forcing himself to be cool, he took the box and followed her back to the kitchen, where it was light enough to see a little. Shane’s pulse was still racing. There in the dark hallway, she’d been so close, so tempting. What would’ve happened if he’d been crazy enough to pull her close and kiss her—Kylie Summerfield, the girl he’d wanted to kiss since he was Hunter’s age? The one girl he’d never dared touch?
    But what was he thinking? This wasn’t the right time to get involved. It wasn’t the right place or the right woman. Red lights all the way.
    “Hold this.” He handed her one of the longer candles. She kept it steady while he struck a match and lit the wick. The flame caught the wax and flickered upward, casting her face in a golden glow. She’d been a pretty girl in high school. Now, bathed in candlelight, she was stunning—and all woman.
    “We need something to hold it up. There’s a Mason jar by the sink. That should work.” She hurried away from him and came back with the candle leaning against the inside rim of the jar.
    “Hang on.” Shane lit a second candle from the flame of the first. Sticking the end in a soda bottle Kylie had found, he carried it into the living room and set it on the hearth. As in many older homes, the opening of the fireplace had been filled with a cast-iron fireplace insert.
    “Without the furnace going, we’ll need some heat,” he told Muriel. “Tell me where I can find some dry wood and I’ll make us a fire.”
    “No need for so much work, Cowboy,” Muriel said. “Henry always carries out the ashes and keeps the insert stoked with wood. All you’ll need to do is open the front, check the damper, and light a match. If you need more wood, there’s some in that box in the corner.”
    “Henry takes good care of this place,” Kylie said. “You’re lucky to have him.”
    “Oh, indeed I am. I don’t know how I’d have managed without him all these years.” Muriel pulled her hand-knitted afghan tighter around her