Their Christmas Carol (Big Sky Hathaways Book 2)

by Jessica Gilmore

  “That was fun,” Nat said after a while. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “You’re a natural, if the music doesn’t work out give me a call and I’ll give you a job.” She turned to him. “But seriously? You’ve never been a waiter or tended bar or worked retail? I thought all musicians and actors spent their downtime working those kinds of jobs.”

  “I’ve always picked up enough sessions to get by, and of course there was always a space for me with The Copper Mountain Trip if other work dried up, perks of having parents in the business.”

  “Wow. How the other half live. I was picking apples at five, rang up my first sale at eleven. It was good though, doing the stroll again. I always loved the buzz.”

  “What about running the orchard? Do you love that? No regrets about coming back”

  Linnea paused. It wasn’t a question she had ever asked herself. She’d asked herself if she could, if she should, but not if she wanted to.

  “Ten years ago, I would have said it was too small. Whatever I did I wanted it to be global. To work internationally. My job with Logan’s parents was heading up their digital marketing team, they have a ton of motels and small business hotels, so not quite international, but my work still covered several states. Now, here I am with one small orchard, one small distillery. It could feel like a step backward, I guess.”

  “Does it?”

  “You know…” The words were surprising her as she said them. “It really doesn’t. I have big plans. It’s a challenge, all right. But to be part of this community, it actually feels right.” As she said the words, it was as if a burden had been lifted, one she didn’t even know she was carrying. “I had to adjust all my goals when I got pregnant anyway. Getting married at twenty was never part of my life plan, as you know.”

  “I remember.” His voice was quiet and, with a jolt, Linnea remembered the look on Nat’s face when he had suggested that maybe they try and stay in touch, that the end of the school year needn’t be the end of them and how she had laughed it off, reminding him how different their lives were going to be. Not wanting to be tied down by anyone. Terrified by how much she had wanted to agree. To hold on to him. Without thinking she slid her hand into his and after a pause his fingers closed around hers, strong and so familiar her heart nearly burst.

  “Fancy a hay ride?”

  Linnea blinked at the sudden change of subject. “A hayride? Seriously? What are we, eight?”

  Nat came to a sudden halt and turned, his gaze focused on her, heat smoldering in his eyes. “Ah, but this is a moonlit hayride. That is a very different proposition.”

  Linnea’s stomach dropped at the intensity in Nat’s voice, in his gaze, in the way his hand tightened on hers.

  “What do you say, Linnea?” His voice was husky and her heart began to beat faster.

  “Okay.” She couldn’t manage much more as they started to walk, still in unison, still hand in hand, until they reached the sign that, in snowy conditions, proclaimed sleigh rides, but today advertised hayrides. Two horses were already drawn up, their noses steaming in the cold, harnessed to a small wagon heaped with hay. Linnea couldn’t help herself, heading straight to their warm, soft noses to say hello.

  “Who is beautiful?” she asked reaching up to scratch between the long ears.

  “Do you want me to leave you three alone or can anyone join in?” Nat asked. “We could stay here and whisper sweet nothings to the horses all evening, but the driver is ready to go.”

  “I haven’t any treats, but I will bring you some.” Linnea promised the horses, allowing Nat to lead her away and help her up the step and settle her onto the soft, but scratchy hay, before swinging himself up and sitting next to her.

  He’d barely sat down when the driver set the horses off on a trot down the road which led to the lake.

  “Why isn’t he waiting for anyone else?” Linnea looked back at the line beginning to build by the sign. “There’s room for plenty more people on here.”

  “Because I paid him for a private ride,” Nat said softly.

  Linnea swallowed, her heart swelling in her chest, with anticipation, with desire, with fear. “Nat…”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t want you to think I lured you out here to make some move on you. I just wanted some time alone. We always seem to be surrounded by people. But we can turn back if you want.”

  “That’s a shame.” Linnea gathered all the courage she had. “I wouldn’t mind if you did put the moves on me.” She slid a look his way. “Is that what the crazy kids are calling it these days?”

  The rumble of his laughter reverberated through her. “We’re on a hayride. It seemed appropriate. But, Linnea. I don’t want you to feel…”

  “But I do want to feel, Nat. I’m out of practice at this. I have dated two men in my entire life. One I married and the other is sitting right here next to me. I need to think about moving on with my life, about dating, and I have no idea where to start.”

  His face was unreadable in the moonlight and she carried on, gathering all her courage into her hands. Words she would never have said in the safety of her home, or in a restaurant, were sayable here in the hay wagon, when the only sound was the thud of the horses’ feet and the jangling of their bridles.

  “I trust you, Nat. I trusted you before and I trust you now. My heart is safe with you. And you’re leaving. There’s no chance I can get in too deep, no chance that we’ll go too far too fast when I’m not ready. There’s an end date and maybe that’s what I need.”

  “I’m the transition guy?” he said softly, his expression still strangely blank.

  “You’re my first love and I’m still attracted to you but, more importantly, I like you. And I’m pretty that you like me, and even though I’m not a superstar singer, I think you’re attracted to me…” She was running out of words, running out of courage now.

  The hay rustled as he turned towards her, tilting her chin with one calloused hand, his gaze serious in the moonlight. “Are you sure? It’s not too much, not too soon?”

  “I loved my husband, Nat. But he died several years ago. I moved back to Marietta to start again. In every way. It’s a moonlit night and the stars are shining down on us. It seems a shame to waste such an opportunity.”

  Nearly three years since she had been kissed, since she had kissed. Three years since an arm had slipped around her shoulders and pulled her in close, three years since her stomach clenched in delicious anticipation, since her mouth had parted, her breath coming faster and faster. Ten years since Nat Hathaway had stared at her with that intoxicating mix of desire and need. Since his mouth had closed on hers and she had leaned into him with a sigh.

  She needed this, she deserved this, whatever it was. However little time they had. She had been too scared to tell him how she felt before, too afraid to admit to either of them what she wanted. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  Nat hesitated for one long second, his hand still cupping her face, the callouses on his fingers deliciously rough against her skin. Linnea looked fearlessly up at him, caught in the hypnotic gaze of his navy blue eyes, her stomach twisting with need, her heart hammering so loudly she couldn’t hear the horses’ hooves. All she saw, all she felt was him.

  And then he leaned in, his mouth capturing hers with a deft sweetness that made her lose her breath, her hands encircling his neck as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Her breasts crushed against the hardness of his chest, but she still wasn’t close enough, she wanted to be subsumed by him as his kiss consumed her, his mouth sure and knowing, his arms holding her tight.

  It was just a kiss, but there was no just about this. It was a kiss imbued with the bittersweetness of ten years apart, a kiss rich with experiences shared, a kiss dizzying with the promise of more to come. Linnea curled her fingers into Nat’s hair, wiggling closer still, not wanting the kiss to stop, the evening to end, wanting this moment out of time to last as long as possible. Because in the cold
light of day, with her responsibilities once again on her shoulders, she didn’t know if she would dare be this bold. But tonight she was bold and wanting and wanted and that was enough for now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hey, Nat. Hope I’m not disturbing you. Goodness, it’s dark in here, how can you even see? What are you doing? I thought your album was finished.”

  Nat blinked as the room light was snapped on, plunging the dim room into brightness. His sister stood at the door, still in her coat and hat, cheeks rosy from the cold, which had enveloped Montana the second Thanksgiving had finished.

  Pulling his headphones off, Nat looked at the sheet paper he’d been making notes on as he played, at the smattering of lyrics, of riffs, of chords.

  “I had an idea,” he said.

  Such simple words for such a huge concept. For the first time in a long while, he hadn’t planned a song, it had come to him. Insistent, demanding, taking him over. He’d started it the day of the stroll and since then it had consumed him.

  Like the memory of the kiss Linnea and he had shared.

  Like the memory of her words. He was safe. He was the perfect transition guy.

  Again.

  Lacey pulled her hat off, her hair, the same blond as his, sticking up as she did so. “Oh? A good one?”

  “I think so.” Nat frowned at the paper. “Possibly really good.”

  “So why the face?”

  “It’s different. I can’t quite describe it.”

  His sister shucked her coat off, placing it haphazardly on the nearest chair and walked over to the brand new basket in the corner, leaning down and patted the new occupant on its head. Biscuit looked up hopefully, his stumpy tail making a valiant attempt at a thump.

  “Good boy.” Lacey crooned and scratched his ear before straightening. “How’s he doing?”

  “Matthew West seems pleased, but I still can’t walk him for more than a few minutes, not until those paws are healed. He was in a bad state, poor old boy. Thanks for letting him stay.”

  “I’d love a dog.” Lacey sounded wistful. “But it’s impossible while Zac and I travel so much. What’s going to happen to him?”

  “I’m not sure. Linnea’s still hoping to take him.” It wouldn’t be easy letting the dog go. Funny how, in the space of a week, he had managed to burrow his way under Nat’s defenses. He was already used to the snuffles and snores, looked for the dog the instant he walked into the room. But a life traveling around wasn’t much fun for a dog, and even if Nat did get a base somewhere, he’d still be gone for days or weeks or even months at a time.

  He scrubbed his chin with a tired hand. It wasn’t just the dog who had burrowed under his defenses. The kiss, the look of trust in Linnea’s face on the hayride kept him awake at night, kept him tossing and turning well into the early hours. All she wanted, all she needed from him was someone to help her through the transition from widow to single woman. There was no indication she wanted more—and why should she? If his lifestyle didn’t suit a dog, it suited a woman with ties, with children even less.

  Nat didn’t miss the sharp glance Lacey gave him as she walked over and sat next to him on the wide piano stool, leaning against him for a moment. “Play me a bit.”

  Nat leaned back, enjoying the closeness. “I miss this. Miss you.”

  “You’re the one who stays away.”

  “You’re the one who settled down.” It was an old argument.

  “Not that settled, I spend at least two nights a week away from home and it doesn’t suck too much. I still love the moment I see that Marietta sign though and know home—and Zac—are just a few moments away.” Lacey worked as a reporter for a state cable station and spent a lot of time traveling around Montana reporting on community events. It was the perfect job for his enthusiastic, curious, friendly sister.

  “What was it this week? Puppies dressed as Santa? Santa racing?”

  Proud as he was of his little sister, Nat couldn’t help teasing her. The nature of her job meant she often dealt with the quirky and unusual—the week before Thanksgiving she had gamely dressed up as a giant turkey to tackle an obstacle course as part of a charity fundraiser.

  “No puppies. Many, many Santas. That reminds me, I’ve got the go ahead to do a live report on the concert so don’t let me down, brother mine. Go on then. Play.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Nat didn’t usually like to play unfinished songs to anyone, but family was different. He and Lacey had grown up in a family where music was more important than food, where tunes were started and discarded several times a day, where no paper could ever be thrown out in case it held a lyric, a chord. He slid off the stool and picked up his guitar, leaning against the wall as he tested the strings.

  Lacey and Zac had housed him on the third floor, turning three rooms over to his use. A bit of rearranging of furniture had given him a bedroom with an en suite, a comfortable den complete with couch, TV, and a small table he could use for eating when alone in the house—or if he wanted to give his sister and her fiancé some privacy. Both rooms were spacious and comfortably furnished, more than enough space for a guy who spent most of his time in hotels and motels but this room was his favorite; a circular room in one of the Summer House’s three turrets, with windows all around the white curved walls. His keyboard was set up in the middle of the room next to a desk, and his guitar and violin leaned against the wall. He’d hadn’t been intending to write while he was here, but he’d had little choice, the music sparking through him.

  He strummed a chord and then began to play the lilting tune. The lyrics were too rough, too unfocused to include, so he hummed the lyric line instead, apart from the possible chorus.

  “I always wanted to fly.

  A bird on the wing.

  But you make me yearn for home.

  I’m tamed by your loving.”

  Lacey picked up the tune quickly and began to hum a counter melody, her sweet voice soaring above his. “I love it,” she said finally. “It’s so unlike your current work though. There’s a real nostalgic quality about it. It reminds me a little of the first songs you wrote, only more mature. It’s good, Nat, really good.”

  “It’s early days yet.” He always felt exposed, raw after playing a song to someone else for the first time and this was no different. Nat set his guitar down. “There’s a long way to go. And I don’t know where it fits, I could sell it, I suppose.”

  “Don’t give it someone else! It’s the best thing I’ve heard you compose for a long time. Can’t the next album be a little more, well, you.”

  Nat raised his eyebrows. “More me?”

  Lacey gave him a quick glance. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved your last one…”

  “But?” He prompted her.

  “But nothing, I listen to it all the time. It’s great. Only it didn’t tell me anything about you. You could have given those songs to any number of singers and they would still have been hits. And from what I have heard of the new album it’s more of the same. Catchy. Fun. But this sounds more personal. I can hear your heart in it.”

  Nat knew exactly what Lacey meant, and he didn’t disagree.

  “You sound like Mom and Dad,” he said instead. “They haven’t quite accused me of selling out, but they wince when I play any of my recent songs.”

  “Oh, Nat, they’re proud of you. Of course they are. They’re just such purists. I know how hard you’ve worked to be a musician in your own right. I guess they just think you’ve rejected their values a little.”

  “Lace. No one admires Mom and Dad like I do. I just want to reach a wider audience. Wilder Than You has done that. We have different definitions of success, that’s all. I just wonder what’s the point of making music if no one hears it? Those early songs? Yes, they were personal, they were part of me—and they didn’t sell. No company was interested in them. They were downloaded a few hundred times. I found myself playing for other people to make ends meet, knowing I could write better songs, had more musicality
in my little finger, but they were the stars and I was the guitar-for-hire. Do you know how frustrating that is? It’s different for Mom and Dad, they have each other. I just have me. Me and the music I make.”

  Ironic wasn’t it? He was at his most successful when he was at his most shallow. Musically and personally. No one wanted his heart, just his charm. Look at the PR company, with their lists of parties and appropriate starlets to take to the parties. Women only interested in how many column inches and clicks he could give them. A record company less interested in the music then the brand they wanted to create.

  And Nat had gone along with it, welcomed it at first. He wasn’t sure when the shine had begun to tarnish. Before he returned to Marietta for sure, but it had gotten worse since he’d been here. Maybe things would make more sense when he returned to Nashville…

  Linnea had downloaded those early songs. Put them on a playlist. Had they meant anything to her? Reached her? Half of them had been inspired by her. Funny, she’d been the one to be so insistent on not keeping in touch and yet she’d followed his career. Allowed his music into her life even if she hadn’t allowed the man.

  “Oh, Nat. You’re not alone. You have me and the parents and the great-aunts.”

  “Lace…” Nat shifted, picking up his guitar and examining one of the strings. It was fine, but he didn’t want to look at his sister’s face when he asked her the question. “How do you know that Zac is the one? How do you trust him not to hurt you?”

  There was a long pause and Nat moved his fingers up and down the taut guitar string.

  Finally Lacey exhaled. “It wasn’t easy, for either of us, to put our hearts, our happiness in someone else’s keeping. But the thought of not being with him was far scarier. He makes me stretch myself. Makes me a better version of me. Plus, you know, he’s hot.” She laughed as Nat pulled the disgusted face he knew she was expecting.

  “I think…” She paused and her eyes were dreamy. “There was an evening when he came home all fired up about this kid he thought was in trouble. And I realized how much he cared, so much he had to bottle it all up, hide behind this loner image he’d created. That was it, I was lost. Helplessly lost. We hadn’t known each other for very long when we got engaged, that’s why I wanted to wait a year at least until the wedding. To give us time to date. To court each other properly. But the truth is, in some ways, I knew almost straight away that he would change everything. And that was terrifying. Sometimes it still is.”