Santa, Honey

by Sandra Hill

“Sisters, huh?” A wide grin blossomed on Jake’s face. He elbowed his brother. “Well, hallelujah. I am damn happy to hear that. Aren’t you, Matt?”

  It was Matt’s turn to look resigned. He snorted and shook his head.

  “Now, let’s get you inside before you freeze solid,” Jake said.

  “An excellent idea.” Casey started up the flagstone path.

  “Just watch your step.” Jake took Emma’s arm. “It’s—”

  Casey’s heel hit a patch of ice. “Aaaah—!”

  What happened next seemed to play out in slow motion. Her legs slid out from under her, sending her upper body lurching backward. Her arms circled wildly, as if she could catch her balance on the frozen air. No go. She felt herself fall…

  The arms that caught her were solid, strong, and warm. She blinked up, into Matt’s dancing blue eyes. For an instant, he held her frozen in a dramatic dip, in a pose straight out of Dancing with the Stars.

  “—icy,” Jake finished lamely.

  And then the world turned right-side up again, and Casey’s feet were once more planted firmly on the ground.

  “Oh, God,” Emma laughed. “I wish I’d caught that on video. Casey, you should have seen yourself. That was definitely one of your better moments.”

  Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Your sister falls down a lot?”

  “More often it’s other stuff hitting the ground,” Emma said. “She’s terribly clumsy. Want to hear something funny? In high school, they used to call her Klutzy Casey.”

  Heat rushed to Casey’s face. She glared at Emma, sure her eyes were spitting sparks. Emma smirked and tossed her hair. It was obvious that little comment was payback for Casey’s behind-the-wheel bitchiness.

  Casey was going to kill her.

  Jake’s eyes cut from one sister to the other. “Ah, well,” he said hastily. “Anyone could be a klutz in this weather. There’s a wicked layer of ice under all this new snow.” He caught Emma below the elbow. “Here, let me help you…”

  Casey watched as the pair made their way to the farmhouse porch, Jake’s arm sliding around Emma’s waist. She fought an urge to roll her eyes. The Todd drama wasn’t even forty-eight hours old, and Emma hadn’t even started fishing for a replacement. And here she already had one on the hook.

  Matt cleared his throat.

  She looked up at him, her face going even hotter than before. She could practically feel the snow sizzling as it hit her skin.

  “Think you can manage the path to the house alone?” he asked. “Or should I carry you, too?”

  She nearly choked. “That won’t be necessary.” Though she was fairly certain he was strong enough to do it. That thought brought another rush of heat to her skin.

  God. What a farce this Adirondack trip was turning out to be. She couldn’t wait to get to her room. She might not even come out until Christmas was over and Emma was ready to drive back to the city.

  Good thing she’d brought her computer.

  “Twenty bucks, big brother.” Jake’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Sisters. Not lesbians.”

  Matt eyed the two women standing under the flickering gaslight in the foyer, chatting with Aunt Bea. With a sigh, he extracted his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a crisp Andrew Jackson.

  “It was a logical assumption,” he said as the money disappeared into his brother’s pocket. “Those two look nothing alike. And this is supposed to be a couples weekend. Exclusively. I know for a fact Aunt Bea was not expecting three couples and a pair of sisters.”

  Jake shrugged. “Call it a gift from the heavens. A Christmas miracle. Jesus. What an angel.”

  He was talking about the blonde sister, of course.

  Jake had a thing for blondes. This one was incredibly beautiful. And incredibly busty. Or maybe she just had an incredible plastic surgeon. She looked…plastic.

  By contrast, the other sister looked…real. Dark smudges under her eyes, no makeup, her lips pressed into a frown. Her dark hair was a tangled mass of wild curls.

  “Just let me remind you,” he told Jake, “we’re here to work. Not to hit on the guests.”

  “I’ll be discreet,” Jake said. “Hell, I’ll be anything if it gets me close to Emma. Man, oh man, does she fill out that sweater. And those legs—”

  But Matt had stopped listening to his brother.

  “…always wanted to act in the theater,” Jake’s blonde—Emma—was saying to Aunt Bea’s interested nod. “On Broadway. So Casey and I, we moved to New York last spring. From Florida.”

  “You’re a Broadway actress, dear? How lovely.”

  Aunt Bea glanced at Matt over her bifocals. Matt nearly groaned out loud. An aspiring actress? God Almighty, he should have known. She had the look.

  “Well, not yet,” Emma was saying, “but Broadway’s been my dream forever! So far, though, I haven’t had much luck getting into auditions. I just don’t know the right people.”

  “Oh, Christ.” Jake made a sound of disgust. “An actress. It just figures. If Emma finds out who you are, my chances with her are up in smoke.”

  “Your chances and my sanity,” Matt grumbled.

  “Jesus, Matt, then do something.”

  Matt cut him a glance. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Bribe Aunt Bea. Tell her I’ll polish all the silverware or something. Or chop another three cords of wood. Anything. Just make her keep quiet about you.”

  Not a bad idea, Matt thought as Aunt Bea opened her mouth to reply to Emma’s comment. Just in time, he caught Bea’s gaze, and made a cutting motion with his hand.

  No, he mouthed. Don’t tell her…

  Aunt Bea pursed her lips and turned her attention back to Emma. “Acting is such a challenging career, dear. It’s hard to get started. It does help to know the right people.” Her eyes cut to Matt. “Or so I’ve been told.”

  Jake groaned. “That’s it. Aunt Bea’s gonna spill, and I’m gonna officially drop off the face of the planet as far as Emma’s concerned. Though I suppose I might have a shot at the klutzy sister…”

  “No.” Matt was not in the mood to spend the next four days dodging the attentions of a wannabe actress. He reached the desk in two strides.

  “Aunt Bea?” He slid a hand under her elbow. “Can I talk to you a moment?”

  “Matthew! I was just telling Emma about your—”

  “Now, Aunt Bea. Jake can take over the check-in.”

  A smiling Jake stepped up to the antique rolltop desk where Aunt Bea kept her reservations ledger. “It would be my pleasure, ladies.”

  Bea frowned as Matt guided her to the alcove under the stair. He lowered his voice. “Aunt Bea. Don’t tell that woman anything. Please.”

  “But Matthew, why not? Emma’s an aspiring actress, new to the city, and you’re always looking for new talent.”

  “True enough, but I just don’t want to get into it this weekend. I came upstate to help you and Uncle Fred, not to add to my call list. Just keep it quiet about the agency, okay?”

  Aunt Bea was not pleased. “Emma’s a guest, Matthew. And she seems like such a nice girl—”

  “I’ll have Jake get her number.” Matt realized he must be truly desperate, to agree to that. He was one of the most sought-after casting directors in the city—only one rookie actress in a hundred made his Broadway call list. Though he could probably swing Emma a TV commercial easily enough. She had the looks for it.

  “I’ll call her in for an interview and screen test after the holidays,” he promised. “But only if you promise not to say anything to her while she’s here. And that goes for Uncle Fred, too.”

  The twin lines between his aunt’s eyes deepened. “Well, all right, Matthew, if you insist. But I really don’t underst—”

  “Why are these sisters here, anyway? I thought only couples were booked for the Romance of Christmas weekend.”

  “Yes, well, that’s true. But apparently Emma and her boyfriend stopped dating just a few days ago. So she brought her sister wi
th her instead.”

  Maybe that explained why the wild-haired brunette looked less than thrilled. Probably, Casey hadn’t wanted to come. Dutch Gorge in December wasn’t everyone’s idea of a vacation, least of all someone from Florida.

  He guided Bea back to the sisters. His brother’s head was bent over the reservation ledger.

  “You ladies are in the Daisy room,” Jake said.

  “That’s our nicest room,” Aunt Bea said. “Almost a suite. It’s a bit of a climb, of course, up to the third floor. But it does have a private bath.”

  “It sounds perfect,” Emma said.

  “Jake,” Matt interjected, “why don’t you take Emma to her room? Her sister can show me what luggage to bring up.”

  “Right,” Jake said, springing into action. “Emma, right this way. Here, let me take your coat. Casey, careful out there on the path.” He winked. “Wouldn’t want Matt here to throw his back out…”

  Emma laughed. Casey shot a glare at her sister, before turning to follow Matt back out to the porch. Full night had fallen. The muted light shining through the bay window cast a warm glow into the dark. Even in the yellow gaslight, Casey looked pale. And tired.

  “Long drive up from the city?”

  She snorted. “Only about five hours too long. And then it started snowing, and we missed the turn into the gorge, and the road got slippery, and we got into an argument…God. I can’t believe I let my sister talk me into coming out here.”

  “Ah well, you made it safely.”

  “Barely. Who built that road, anyway? We’re lucky we didn’t go over the side of the freaking mountain! I’m telling you, if we survive the drive home, I am going to kill Emma. Slowly.”

  Her voice was trembling. More from fear than from anger, Matt thought. A delayed reaction to a drive that had truly frightened her.

  “The road into the gorge can be dicey,” he said.

  “Especially in a snowfall. First northern winter, I take it?”

  She shivered. “Yes.”

  “Driving on snow takes a bit of practice. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

  She made a sound of disdain. “I’d rather not, thank you.”

  Man, but she was prickly. With that frown and all that crazy hair, she looked like a disgruntled hedgehog. But even so…he scrutinized her more closely. Now that she wasn’t standing next to her stunning sister, he realized she wasn’t as plain as he’d first thought. She had a pleasant face, with good bone structure. Wide dark eyes—brown, maybe. It was hard to tell in the dark. She was probably very pretty when she smiled.

  She wasn’t smiling at the moment. She looked ready to strangle someone. Emma, probably. He swallowed a laugh.

  Production title: Sidekick. Woman perpetually trapped in her sister’s misadventures finally snaps, revealing a dangerous violent streak…

  He shook the thought out of his head. Hadn’t he just told Aunt Bea he didn’t want to think about work? But the drive upstate apparently hadn’t put the brakes on his obsessive habit of casting everyone around him into imaginary dramas.

  The snow was coming down in a thick curtain now, the steady north wind blowing it at a stiff diagonal. A gust picked up a swirl of new-fallen snow from the front yard and threw it into their faces.

  Casey gripped the lapels of her coat, savagely wrenching the fabric tight across her chest. Not that it was going to do her any good. The flimsy thing was designed for a city winter. Not a mountain one.

  “God, it’s cold.” Her teeth were actually chattering.

  “Actually, it’s barely below twenty,” Matt said, purely for the enjoyment of seeing her scowl deepen. “But it’s supposed to drop to single digits tonight.”

  “Lovely,” she muttered.

  He took pity on her. “Listen, if you’re that cold, just give me your key and tell me how many bags you’ve got. No need to come with me to your car.”

  “No.” She hugged the coat tighter. “You won’t be able to carry it all by yourself. Emma is not a light packer.”

  She stepped off the porch, tripped on the first step, and lunged down the rest. He barely managed to catch hold of her arm before she landed face-first in the snow.

  “Wow. Your sister wasn’t kidding, was she? About you making a habit of falling?”

  She jerked her sleeve out of his grip. “I’m fine. It’s just these boots. They’re not the best on ice.”

  Matt extracted a small flashlight from his pocket. “Here. This might help.”

  “Thanks.”

  She plowed through the snow, following the thin beam of light, placing each step with care. “Damn it’s dark out here,” she said. “And quiet.”

  “That’s the snow. It muffles everything.”

  They managed to reach her car without further mishap. “Nice parking job,” he commented.

  “Bite your tongue,” she said.

  He laughed. “Another inch and Jake’s bumper would have turned your fender into crumpled aluminum foil.”

  “I know.” She climbed over the snow bank to open the trunk. The interior revealed a pair of pink suitcases and a worn navy blue duffle.

  Matt handed Casey the flashlight and started collecting the bags, slinging the duffle over his shoulder and hefting the suitcases. Christ. The bigger pink one must be filled with bricks. He didn’t have to ask which sister it belonged to.

  “Your sister planning to stay the month?”

  “Emma likes to be prepared,” Casey answered, reaching into the trunk for one last bag.

  “Might as well leave that one,” he told her.

  She glanced up at him. “What?”

  “That’s a computer, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why bring it in? You won’t be able to use it.”

  She straightened, setting one hand on the open trunk door and trying to grip both her bag and his flashlight in the other. The beam bounced wildly.

  “You mean because this God-forsaken crack in the Earth’s crust is in a satellite blind spot? I already know that. My GPS lost its signal even before we started down the mountain. So I’m guessing there’ll be no Internet, either. But that’s okay. I can work without it.”

  He snorted. “Can you work without electricity?”

  She froze in the act of slamming the trunk. Her eyes jerked to his, and even in the darkness, he could tell they were appalled.

  “Without electricity? You can’t be serious.”

  “Perfectly serious, honey. Dutch Lodge is off the grid.”

  Her head swiveled toward the house. “But…there are lights—”

  “Gas light,” he said. “And oil lamps. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice? It’s usually the first thing that guests comment on.”

  “No.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t notice. But…what about TV? Hot water?” She sucked in a breath. “Heat?”

  “Sorry, no TV. But there’s plenty of hot water, courtesy of a mountain spring Uncle Fred piped in years ago. A large propane tank out back takes care of the gaslights and water heaters. And there’s a fireplace or wood-burning stove in every room. Don’t worry, you’ll get your hot baths, and you won’t freeze.”

  “But—no electricity? How can anyone live without electricity?”

  He laughed. “It’s not so bad. I grew up here, you know, and managed to survive.”

  “But…but…”

  The sounds of her sputtering shock made him wish for a stronger flashlight. “Didn’t you know about the electricity? It’s all in the brochure your sister was waving arou—” He cut off, and laughed outright.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “You didn’t read that brochure, did you? And your sister didn’t tell you.”

  Casey slammed the trunk. The crash echoed off the sides of the gorge like a gunshot.

  “No,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “She did not. But she is certainly going to answer for it now.”

  Still clutching her laptop case, she
flung herself in the direction of the house, her footsteps hard and fast. Well, as hard and fast as footsteps could get in six inches of new snow.

  “You know,” he said, juggling the baggage as he fell into step beside her. “Most guests at Dutch Lodge consider the lack of electricity a good thing. In fact, it’s the reason most people come here. To get away from civilization.”

  “Yes, well, I like civilization just fine. I don’t want to get away from it. No electricity,” she added under her breath. “This is insane. That brat is going to die. Painfully.”

  That repressed violent streak again, Matt thought, impressed.

  “She’s just lucky I’ve got some battery life. If I make it to tomorrow morning, I might let her live.”

  “Why?” Matt asked. “What happens tomorrow morning?”

  She spun toward him, stumbling, then catching her balance. The flashlight beam glanced off the white ground. “What happens in the morning is that we’re leaving. Whether Emma wants to or not.”

  Matt couldn’t suppress a bark of laughter. “Leaving? Sorry to disappoint, but I really doubt that’s gonna happen.”

  “Oh, it’s going to happen, all right. The instant the sun comes up, I’m outta here.”

  The wind chose just that moment to kick up a wintery blast. “I’m curious,” Matt shouted over the rising wind. “Did you happen to check the local weather report before driving into the gorge?”

  They’d reached the house. Casey stomped up the three steps to the porch before turning to glare down at him. “No.”

  He smiled.

  Trepidation crept into her voice. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I was listening to the update on the shortwave just before you got here. This storm’s turning nasty, and it’s going to last all night. They’re predicting two feet.”

  “Two feet?” Her mouth fell open. “Of snow?”

  “Well, not of rose petals,” he assured her. “So I’m pretty sure no one’s going anywhere tomorrow. Least of all you.”

  Chapter Three

  The farmhouse living room was cozy and welcoming, with flames snapping cheerfully in a fireplace hung with Christmas stockings and decorated with freshcut holly. The room’s soft illumination was supplied by a brass gaslight chandelier. Glass-topped oil lanterns lit the corners. Casey couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the lack of lightbulbs on her first trip into the house.