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the mention of his poker babes had clearly bent her out of shape.
    “I told you I was changing my act—all of it. I figured having an unusual dog might be entertaining. I can even dress it up.” God, he sounded like a total moron. “People love their dogs, right?”
    She cringed, and he knew without asking that it wasn’t because another kid, a girl this time, had fallen on the ice. “I have this horrible image of you and your ‘unusual’ breed wearing matching snakeskin outfits.”
    Hadn’t he had the same thought? He didn’t mind his poker babes wearing matching outfits, but he was a man. “Not in this lifetime.”
    “Well, I guess it goes with the whole dogs–playing–poker motif,” she said sarcastically, and then sipped her hot chocolate.
    Funny how her barbed jibes were just convincing him that this could be the G–rated kind of act that would reassure Abbie while still drawing in crowds. “Yep. Man, I love that drawing.” He’d bet the house she hated those paintings.
    “Hmm,” was all she said.
    He knew just what she was thinking: We’re ill–suited beyond belief . “Of course, I’d never ask you to put one in our house. I know it’s not your style. Now are you going to admit you love me and agree to marry me?”
    Her hand slipped, and her drink spilled on her gloves. He hastily grabbed her cup, fearing she’d burned her fingers through the blue knitting.
    “Put some snow on it,” he commanded.
    “No, it’s okay,” she said, her hand trembling.
    In that moment, he knew that none of it had changed her mind, not one bit. “Christ, Abbie, you’re killing me here.”
    The chocolate–stained glove fell to her side when she pulled it off. He checked to make sure her hand wasn’t red. It wasn’t, thank God.
    “Don’t change your act for me.”
    His breath could be seen in the winter night when he blew it out. “I’m changing everything for you. My whole life. When is it going to be enough?”
    Her absolute silence only pissed him off. Jane and Elizabeth had been right.
    They weren’t the problem.
    “Okay, Abbie,” he said, leaning closer, crowding her. “I called your bluff about the poker babes, and you show me you’ve got nothing. It’s not about them at all, is it? Then what is it? Even after being here for almost six months, you don’t believe I can be a good husband to you and stepdad to Dustin?”
    “Let’s not talk about it here. We’re in public.” And she cast a meaningful look at the nearby ice skaters.
    “Right, in public, where you didn’t want us to be when we were actually seeing each other. You’re not making sense.”
    She stood, and her tight mouth reminded him of Mac when he was cornered at the poker table when the chips are down. “I’m through discussing this.”
    He stood, both their cups in his hands, wishing he could drop them and reach for her. “Why? Because you say so? I told you I’m never leaving you again, and I meant it. I figure if we have to be like those two tortured cowboys in Brokeback Mountain —in love with each other but never together—I’ll live with it.”
    A reluctant laugh popped out. “Rhett, those two were gay.”
    Maybe humor would humor her. Hah. “Huh… So that explains the fuss everyone made about that movie.” He bumped her playfully, but her body was as rigid as a candy cane. “Those poor guys couldn’t be together. We can, Abbie. Just say the words.”
    Leaving him standing was an answer, he supposed. Just not one he liked. He let her stew all the way to the car. Her earlier happiness had vanished like Santa’s milk and cookies on Christmas Eve.
    She dove inside the minute he unlocked the car. He had to juggle their drinks to open the door. When he sat beside her, he stuffed their cups into the holders in the middle console and turned to look at her.
    “You can’t keep running like this. It’s time we got to the bottom of what’s holding you back. This clearly isn’t it.”
    Even though she was mostly