Close to Heaven: A Colorado High Country Christmas

by Pamela Clare

  “Yes.” She walked back to the bed, T-shirts draped over her arm. She bent over, folded the shirts, and slid them into the bag, her breasts swaying as she worked, the bright colors of her tattoos a contrast to her pale skin. “Bob said he’d call Austin and ask him to come pick me up.”

  Wasn’t she going to stop and put something on?

  You could look away, leave the room.

  No. No, he really couldn’t.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Taylor and Moretti helped me dig out my Land Rover. I’ll drive you.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve done enough to help me as it is. I don’t want to be more of a pain than I already have been.”

  “Jesus, Rain. Did I say you’ve been a pain?”

  “Can I ask you a favor?” She reached beneath one of the bags and pulled out Silas’ journal. “I’m up to 1878 now. May I borrow this?”

  “You won’t like how it ends.”

  “I think I can handle it. I promise I won’t let anything happen to it. I’ll drop it by Knockers when I’m done.”

  “So you’re going through with it. You’re quitting.” He couldn’t believe it, a cold, hollow sensation spreading behind his breastbone.

  “I’ll pick up my last check on payday. I’ve got some vacation time.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

  At last, she met his gaze. “You’re right about that.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  Rain could tell Joe was furious. They said little as he drove her into town, his jaw tense, his lips a hard line. But when the SUV slipped and she gasped, he was quick to reassure her, his voice soothing despite the anger in his eyes.

  “It’s okay. We’re good. Are you warm?”

  “Yes. Thanks.” She’d let him walk into the room while she was naked. She had exposed herself to him, and he’d acted like it was nothing. She’d thought he might crack and jump her bones or at least kiss her again, but he’d stood there talking to her as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. God, she’d been an idiot. She’d loved him for so long, and she’d never been more than an employee in his eyes.

  How could he kiss her like that if…

  Stop. Don’t do this.

  Guy had kissed her, told her he loved her, made her feel like a queen—and he’d left her to give birth alone in a minivan.

  She stared unseeing out the window until they got into town. “Wow!”

  Immense piles of snow stood in the corner of every parking lot and people’s front yards, most of the roads limited to a single, icy lane. Some of that snow had been transformed into sculptures—lots of snowmen, a naked couple entwined, a sea monster, a Darth Vader head, a Tyrannosaurus, a snow Christmas tree with real lights, a giant snow penis. Someone had stuck a painted sign in the middle of their yard that read, “Hey, Ullr, is this the best you can do?”

  Ullr, the Norse god of snow, was a favorite of local ski bums.

  “Looks like people have kept themselves busy,” Joe said.

  They were still busy, kids playing, adults skiing and shoveling their walks, folks standing in the middle of the street and talking with their neighbors. The wintery joy of the scene would ordinarily have made Rain’s spirits soar. Instead, she felt like crying. The whole town seemed to be happy, while her heart was breaking.

  Joe turned onto First Street. The Forest Creek Inn stood tall and proud halfway down the block, its paint bright yellow against the white snow. The largest Victorian building in town, it looked like something from a postcard, decked with wreaths, garlands, and lights to celebrate the season. It was strange to think that it had stood here since the days when Silas prowled the streets of Scarlet.

  “You are always welcome at my place. If you need anything, just call. I mean it.”

  She couldn’t look at him. “Thanks.”

  He turned into the long driveway and parked. “Your job is still there, too.”

  He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he?

  She unbuckled her seatbelt, swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’ve been good to me, Joe. You gave me a job when no one else would. You helped me get on my feet. You’ve been a great boss for every one of these twenty years. You helped me through this mess like a true friend. Thanks for all of it.”

  She pushed open the door, dropped to the ground, and opened the rear passenger door to get her bags, blinking back tears she did not want him to see.

  He was there before she could make her retreat. “Nothing will be the same without you.”

  She willed herself to smile up at him. “You’ll be fine.”

  Bob opened the door behind them. “Need a hand?”

  Rain turned toward him, grateful for the interruption. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

  “Good. I don’t feel like putting my boots on again.” Bob chuckled.

  Rain waved to Joe. “Drive safe, and thanks again.”

  She was inside before he started the engine, her heart in shreds, so many things between them left unspoken.

  “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” Rose sat at the kitchen table with Kendra, a bottle of wine between them.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Her roof collapsed. What the hell do you think is wrong?” Bob answered for her.

  “Take her bags to Lexi’s room, Bob, and then find something to do with yourself. We women need to talk,” Kendra said. “You sit here with us, sweetie. I’ll get another glass, and you can tell us all about it.”

  Bob muttered something to himself and disappeared down the hallway.

  Rain looked at the two women and felt like the fly being lured into the spider’s web. She knew Rose was the hub of gossip in this town and that nothing she said would stay in this room, but she couldn’t stop herself. She sat, took the glass of wine from Kendra, and burst into tears. “My life sucks.”

  Rose reached over, took her hand. “Tell us all about it.”

  Joe drove from the inn to Knockers, where he plowed the parking lot again, an ache in his chest where his heart ought to have been. Rain couldn’t seriously mean to leave her job after twenty years because he refused to sleep with her. Had she expected that he would fuck her on the floor right then?

  Now that he thought about it, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

  No, it was a terrible idea.

  He had wounded her pride, left her feeling rejected. But she would snap out of it. She would come back as soon as she had time to think it through. When she did, her job would be waiting for her.

  Joe finished with the parking lot and then got to work clearing a large snowdrift from the walk in front of the entrance one shovelful at a time. People waved to him from their cars, offered to help, asked when he’d be open.

  “Tomorrow,” Joe called back.

  When he’d finally cleared the doorway of snow, he took out his keys, unlocked the door—and was hit in the face by Led Zeppelin’s Dyer Maker playing on the sound system. He stepped inside, glanced toward the stage, and stared open-mouthed.

  Son of a ...!

  Some big guy was fucking a half-naked Libby from behind, his pants around his knees, ass bare, the two of them in the spotlight, their cries audible as Dyer Maker came to an end and they climaxed.

  Why were all the women in his life naked today? And why was Libby fucking some dude onstage?

  Libby looked over her shoulder toward her boy toy, saw Joe, and shrieked. The two of them hurried to dress, Libby reaching for her T-shirt, her breasts still bare, the guy yanking up his jeans.

  Joe turned his back.

  “I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Libby said.

  “I can see that.” Joe walked toward the door. “I’m going outside for a minute. When I come back in, I want you dressed and lover boy gone.”

  He stepped outside and stood there in the cold wondering what the hell else happened at his pub when he wasn’t here.

  The door opened behind
him, and a man strode past him.

  “Hey, Joe.”

  Jesus!

  Brandon Silver?

  Shaking his head, Joe turned and walked back inside. What was he supposed to say to Libby? It wasn’t in the employee handbook not to have sex in the workplace, but that’s only because Joe couldn’t have imagined anyone doing it.

  Libby was waiting for him, her face flushed, but not from embarrassment. “Sorry, Joe. If I had known… Sometimes you’ve just got to have it, you know?”

  Oh, he knew. He just rarely gave in to the impulse.

  “Can’t you get it at home?”

  “Well, yeah, but you know.”

  “I don’t think I do.”

  “It’s kind of a thing in this town to have sex on your stage.”

  Joe couldn’t have heard that right. “It’s … what?”

  “Sex in the Spotlight.”

  He glared at her. “Marcia’s drink?”

  Libby rolled her eyes as if he were an idiot. “People try to have sex on your stage in the spotlight. Marcia made the drink in honor of that. It’s like the Mile High Club, except we call it the Sex in the Spotlight Club. Eric and Vicki have done it.”

  Joe gaped at her. “Eric and Victoria have had sex on my stage?”

  “Lots of people have.” She started listing names. “Austin and Lexi. Of course, they’ve had sex everywhere. Ellie and Moretti. Rico and that woman he used to date. Creede Herrera and, well, every female he’s dating. Marcia and her hubby. I think Megs and Mitch started it, and then Rose—”

  “Megs and Mitch have done it, too?” Joe’s head was starting to ache.

  Libby nodded. “You didn’t know? That’s what those notches in the wooden posts on either side of the stage are for. It’s kind of like proof of membership. When a couple does it onstage in the spotlight, they carve a little notch in one of the posts.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Joe finally had the answer to that mystery. Hell, there were dozens of them. “How do they get in?”

  He couldn’t have the entire town sneaking into his place after hours to bone.

  “I guess they stay late and wait for the dining room to be empty and then try to do it before anyone steps out from the kitchen or the back offices to catch them.”

  “Jesus.” Why hadn’t he known this?

  “I’ve been cooped up here for three days and Brandon—”

  “Three days? Weren’t you supposed to go home?”

  Her face lit up. “On my way out that night, I got an awesome idea for a new special edition milk stout. I figured I might as well use the pilot tanks to brew it up and see if it tasted as good as I thought it would. Want to know what it is?”

  “If you say ‘pumpkin spice,’ you’re fired.”

  Libby laughed, clearly not taking him seriously. “It’s an orange-chocolate peppermint milk stout. It’s in the fermenting tank now, but I’ve had a little sip. It’s going to be amazing. I named it Plow Me Blizzard 2017 Limited Edition Milk Stout.”

  “Plow Me?”

  “Everyone in town has been trying to get plowed one way or another this weekend, right? Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Wondering how his life had gotten so beyond his control, Joe followed Libby back to the brewery, his gaze falling on Rain’s locker as they walked down the back hallway. She would come back. She had to come back.

  Rain wiped her eyes with the tissue Kendra had handed her. “I stood there naked, and for all he seemed to care, we might have been at work. I’ve waited twenty years for him to notice me, and even that didn’t do it. I think it’s all a sign that I should move on, leave Scarlet, figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life. There’s no point hoping for something that’s never going to happen.”

  She hadn’t told them anything too personal—just that she and Joe had kissed, but that he wouldn’t do anything else because he was her boss and that her being naked and quitting hadn’t changed anything, which must mean that he didn’t really care about her.

  Okay, so maybe that was more information than she’d intended to share.

  Hell.

  Rose gave Rain’s hand a squeeze. “The two of you have never…?”

  Rain shook her head. “Never.”

  Rose looked surprised. “Joe is a good guy. Give him time. He’ll come around. That man has so much pent-up sexual energy. Everyone knows he’s crazy about you.”

  Rain gave a little laugh. “Yeah—everyone except him.”

  “That’s because God gave men balls instead of brains.” Kendra poured more wine in Rain’s glass. At 63, she was still an attractive woman, slender with sleek shoulder-length brown hair and impeccable makeup. “He’ll figure it out.”

  “Even if Joe doesn’t change his mind, why would you want to leave Scarlet?” Rose asked. “This is your home.”

  Kendra shrugged. “Hell, why shouldn’t she leave? It’s about time someone besides Britta escaped. You could go to California, maybe stay with her for a while.”

  Britta was Lexi’s younger sister, one of Bob’s two daughters by his first wife.

  Rain took a sip of her shiraz. “I hadn’t thought of that. Is San Diego nice?”

  Kendra’s face lit up. “No snow. Beaches. Palm trees. You could get a job tending bar or waiting tables near Coronado and maybe hook up with a Navy SEAL.”

  Rain loved beaches and the ocean, but she also loved snow and aspens and cool mountain air. The idea of meeting a Navy SEAL didn’t excite her as much as it seemed to excite Kendra because … well, damn it, she loved Joe. “I’d be so far away from Lark.”

  “You know what this is? You’re lovesick, and you’ve got a case of empty nest syndrome at the same time.” That came from Bob, who stood in the doorway, beer in his hand. “That’s the thing about raising kids. You put your whole heart into them, and if they grow up and leave you behind, you’ve done your job right.”

  Rain’s eyes filled with tears again. “It sucks.”

  “Lexi and Britta aren’t mine, but I helped raise them.” Kendra took another drink. “When they were little, I couldn’t wait for them to grow up and leave, and then when they did … It got awful quiet around here.”

  “You can always have another baby,” Rose said. “Men give sperm away for free. It’s the cheapest substance on earth.”

  Rain stared at her, shook her head. “Another baby? I don’t think so. It’s hard work raising a child by yourself. Plus, being pregnant and giving birth again? Nope.”

  She’d gone through that once, and that had been enough.

  Rose smiled indulgently. “You’ve got powerful Empress energy—the Empress symbolizes fertility in the tarot—and such a strong second chakra.”

  Maybe it was the wine, but suddenly Rain had to ask. “Rose, what do you know about your ancestor, Belle Ellery?”

  She didn’t mention the journal. She wasn’t sure anyone knew about it and didn’t feel it was her place.

  “The madam?” Rose sat up a little straighter, tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “She ran the best brothel in Scarlet Springs. She was a woman before her time, skilled when it came to working with sexual energy.”

  Bob gave a noncommittal grunt. “She was a whore.”

  “Sex worker,” Rose corrected him. “She all but ran this town.”

  “Are you going to sit around talking all night, or are you going to make dinner?”

  Kendra glared at him. “How about you get off your hairy butt and make dinner?”

  Bob chuckled. “I love you too much to force my cooking on you, darlin’.”

  “Yeah, right.” Kendra shook her head, but Rain could see the hint of a smile on her lips. “We’re running a bit low on things, and the shelves at Food Mart are all but empty. How does leftover pot roast sound to everyone?”

  Rain stood. “I’ll help.”

  She wanted to get this evening behind her so that she could go upstairs to be by herself and sleep—or maybe read.

  Joe took a sip from th
e glass Libby had handed him, let the complex flavors play over his tongue. Chocolate malt. The bright tang of orange. The cold bite of peppermint. The warmth of yeast. He nodded. “I guess you can keep your job.”

  It was a malt-forward brew, rich and quite sweet, but then it wasn’t finished fermenting. The yeast would eat a lot of that sugar, transforming it to alcohol.

  Libby beamed. “I knew you’d like it.”

  He’d shoot Kari, his designer, an email so she could start work on art for the label. “Do we have to call it ‘Plow Me’?”

  “Everything with ‘snow’ in it is taken. Snowstorm. Snow day. Blizzard. Snowblind. Snowed in. I spent hours on Google and Beer Advocate.”

  That was the hardest part about brewing beer. There were so damned many breweries these days that all the good names were taken.

  “I guess ‘Plow Me’ it is.” He handed Libby the glass. “Can you do me a favor? No more ‘Sex in the Spotlight’—the activity, not the drink. I don’t ever want to catch you or anyone else in flagrante again.”

  Was he a prude?

  Libby gave him a disappointed look that told him she thought he was. “Okay.”

  “You should head home, get some rest. We open again tomorrow. Good work … on the brew, that is.”

  He left the brewery, made his way to his office, and sat at his desk, that ache in his chest like a weight. He sent a quick email to Kari, then emailed the staff to let them know the pub would open at eleven tomorrow and that everyone should report for their regular shifts. He debated for a moment whether to delete Rain’s email from the message. The recipient list was suppressed so the other employees wouldn’t notice if she was included or not. But he didn’t want to seem pushy. At the same time, he couldn’t believe she had truly quit. In the end, he deleted her email address out of respect for her decision, and hit send.

  He puttered around for a while, deleting old emails, cleaning his desk. He was tucking a ledger away when a yellow sticky note caught his eye. It was the note Rain had left him almost a year ago when a bus crash in Boulder Canyon had killed one little boy and injured many more, all of them kids from Scarlet Springs. Joe had been torn up by it. The whole town had been devastated.