“We should build it tall, with towering ceilings that reflect the open space of the area.” Kara looked up at his words. The ice cliffs were very tall. “Maybe even a glass ceiling so that everyone here has a view of the sky, no matter what time of day it is.”
Kara nodded, caught up in the excitement of it. “Yes, you’re right. And the posts between the windows should be a glittering blue, like a glacier.” Or Seb’s eyes. She shook her head. “And the floor should be glass, too.”
“Glass?” Seb asked skeptically. He studied the ground beneath them. Just as Kara was about to sarcastically ask if he had a better idea, he nodded. “Yes, glass. With lights in the glass that can change colors depending on the theme.”
“What theme?” Kara faced him fully.
Seb shuffled, still staring at the ground, looking for all the world abashed. Kara was stunned. She didn’t think he had it in him to be anything but arrogant. “I had this idea we could make it a themed dance hall, with certain things about it changing depending on the theme of the event. For example, Valentine’s Day is coming up, so it might be red and pink in the floor, with the theme reflected in the décor.”
Kara just stared. It was a great idea. “Constantly changing,” she said. “Sometimes the theme might be obvious, for holidays or whatever, but there could be other themes that are unexpected. And if it changes each time the dance hall is open, elves will come just to see what the theme for the night is.”
Seb lifted his gaze and beamed at her. Kara had to look away from the blinding beauty of his smile. “This is going to be the best dance hall ever built,” he said.
“Should we measure it?” Kara tried to bring the business side of her back into being. All she could think about was Seb’s joyous smile as she accepted and enhanced his idea.
He went back to the snowmobile and retrieved the measuring stick. They walked the perimeter of the area as the stick kept track on its digital counter of how far they walked. Then they crossed from corner to corner, looking for the best way to face it, and where the windows could be strategically placed. They also noted any overhanging ice they’d need to work around. It was long work, exhausting walking the large space repeatedly back and forth.
Finally Seb checked his watch. “Well, they’ll be coming back to retrieve the lighting any time now.” He glanced down at the notes he kept. “I think we have what we need to get started. We might have to take another trip or two out here before construction actually begins, but we have plenty of planning to do in the meantime.” He looked at Kara. “Are you ready to go back?”
Kara swallowed as she thought of getting back on Seb’s death machine. She was about to tell him she’d walk when he spoke.
“I give you my word, Kara, to drive like a granny.” He smile teased, but his eyes were serious. She believed he did feel bad for scaring her previously since he didn’t make fun of her irrational fear, and he’d held her while she trembled.
“Okay,” she finally acquiesced.
Seb was true to his word. Kara could have jogged back as quickly as he drove. He carefully avoided any ruts and anything jutting above the ice that might tempt him to catch some air, which slowed them further. Kara thought of telling him he didn’t have to take such care, but honestly, in spite of his slow speed, she still kept a death grip on him. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words that would make him go faster, even if she felt foolish and childish.
Chapter Five
“Well?” Kaitlin asked, leaning close to Kara. “How was it?”
They were sitting in a small diner—the only diner—for hot cocoa. It didn’t quite measure up to the hot cocoa she’d had that morning at the Big Guy’s office, but it was close.
Kara knew exactly what Kaitlin was asking, what Misha and Aubrie wanted to know as well. She glanced at Pearl. She was sure Pearl also wanted to know, but was too polite to ask.
“It was fine,” Kara said, blushing. “The project is going to be amazing, and it was nice to be able to just think creatively and not have to simply place parts on toys.” She gave them an apologetic look. “Not that that’s not important work.”
Misha waved her words away. “Not that. How was he?”
Kara shrugged. She wasn’t about to tell them about her clinging to him—and then him holding her. “He was fine. He actually had some really good ideas.”
“But wasn’t it . . . frightening to spend so much time alone with him?” Kaitlin’s question was delivered breathlessly.
Kara sighed, wishing she could change the subject, but knowing it would be like trying to pull one of the reindeer away from a salt lick. “No, he was fine,” she repeated. “Very professional.” Her mind immediately veered to his arms around her as she worked through her panic attack. That wasn’t exactly professional, but afterward he was, as they discussed plans, and on the ride back.
They all looked disappointed in her answer, except Pearl, who said, “Guess you can’t tell us anything about the project?”
Kara smiled. They knew the answer as well as she did. “I wasn’t forbidden to speak of it, but discouraged to. I will say this: It’s going to be something that everyone will love.”
Their demeanor changed then as they excitedly began speculating what it might be. As they threw out ideas like a doughnut shop, or an amusement park, or an indoor beach, Kara just sat back and listened. Her wings ached fiercely from the ride this afternoon on Seb’s sled. Whenever she tensed up like that, her wings, already in a cramped position, got the worst of it. She was going to have to stretch them out, even if she didn’t fly.
After some time, talk turned back to usual things, including gossiping about other elves, many of whom were now familiar to Kara. She stayed as long as she could possibly stand it, happy to see Pearl but even more desperate to expand her wings. Finally, after what seemed a decent amount of time, she cried off, claiming tiredness, and left.
She went home, making sure no one followed her. She waited another half hour, knowing the safe thing was to stretch her wings here, in privacy, and call it good. But the cliff called to her, and she was unable to resist. Finally, she snuck out, hurrying down the path. It was worth the hour long walk to reach the cliff. She spread out her wings, leaping, letting the cool, healing air flow across her downy feathers.
She soared down sharply before catching a flow of air that pushed her up, hard, toward the glittering stars. Exhilaration flooded her veins, seeped into her bones. She laughed aloud at the pure joy, then quickly covered her mouth when the sound echoed loudly in the silence. The clear, dark sky above her beckoned and she continued toward its pull, flapping her wings as hard as she could, pushing against the ever-thinning air.
Too late, she realized she’d gone too far. Her gossamer fairy wings were meant to fly through forests, skimming the tops of branches or soaring along a valley floor. They weren’t meant for height. She felt the moment the air became too thin, and the ache from both the tight, rolled tenseness of the day and pushing them too hard tonight became genuine pain.
With a squeal she began to plummet back toward the earth and its inevitable gravity. She gave a small flap, but her wings, exhausted, didn’t slow her descent at all. Panicked, sound frozen in her throat now, she watched as the snow packed earth closed in, looking around for somewhere soft to land. A snow bank to her left seemed the most likely place and she veered sharply, tucking her wings, closing her eyes for impact.
Unable to simply give up, her eyes shot open again, and her wings expanded to their fullest volume. Gritting against the pain, she used the wind shear and pure determination to slow her descent. She slowed, but not fast enough. The impact on her legs as she hit the ground was jarring as they buckled beneath her. A pained grunt escaped her and she collapsed against the snow, her wings creating something of a cocoon around her.
She lay still, breathing heavily against the throbbing in her legs. After a few minutes she was able to slow her breathing, concentrate on controlling the pain. She pushed against the gro
und with her arms into a sitting position. Taking stock, she felt certain that while she’d be stiff and probably limping tomorrow, nothing was broken, including her wings. She shook the feathered appendages before folding them against her back once again. She rubbed her hands against her thighs and took a tentative step toward home.
She was shaky and sore, but felt able to make the trek back to her house. At a sound, she stopped, her head turning sharply toward the clump of bushes. She narrowed her eyes, peering into the darkness.
“Hello?” she called, her voice sounding unnatural in the stillness of the night. “Is someone there?”
Silence answered her, though the feeling of being watched didn’t dissipate. For the first time ever she wished for her sled so she could hurry home rather than taking the slower route of walking. Fear wasn’t something usual in either the South Pole or the North Pole, since they were pretty well protected and the animals were friendly. Still, it wasn’t unheard of for a stranger to manage to get as far as the Pole and threaten or hurt someone, or even the rarer occasion of an elf turning bad. But for Kara, there was an even greater fear—discovery.
Spotting a stick on the ground, she picked it up and waved it toward the bushes. “Hello?” she called again, wondering exactly what she would do with the stick if someone made themselves known. Violence wasn’t within her, even in the face of the threat of discovery. Taking a breath, she decided she’d rather know if she’d been spotted than keep worrying about it. She slowly stepped slowly closer to the bushes.
“I mean you no harm,” she said, then realized how silly the words were while carrying what amounted to a weapon. She threw it to the side and lifted her hands to the sides to show she didn’t carry anything else.
“Come out.” She stopped right in front of the thick bushes that stood taller than she did. She wished the noise had come from the trees; they would be easier to search than these prickly bushes. With a resigned sigh, she leaned down and peered into the bushes, trying to find the best way to enter. “Alright, I’ll come in then.”
She pushed into the clump of bushes, the brambles tearing at her hair, clothing, and skin. It was no easy task, making her way through, but after some time she made it through the entire bunch and came out on the opposite side. There was no one and nothing there. She looked at the snow covered ground. No footprints of any kind other than her own. Stumped, she put her hands on her hips, feeling silly for her overactive imagination.
Picking pieces of the thin branches from her hair and sweater, she made her way home.
Kara leaned over the large piece of paper on her elbows, her chin propped in her hands, as Seb sketched and explained his ideas. She was impressed by his drawing skills. It wasn’t unusual for elves to have the ability to draw well. It was a basic necessity for their line of work to have more artistic ability than the average human. Still, Seb’s drawings were meticulous, the detail extraordinary.
“I was thinking about your idea for the windows,” he said, pointing to the windows he’d drawn. They were tall, nearly to the fifteen foot ceiling, with a pointed arch in each one. “And the discussion about the changing glass floor.”
Kara glanced up at him as he spoke. They’d been working on the drawings for nearly three hours now. Seb had gone back to being aloof and professional, though he was never what she might call flat-out rude. His arrogance remained firmly in place. And yet, she still couldn’t get over the beauty of the guy. She watched his mouth as he continued to speak about the windows and how thick the floor would need to be to hold the weight. His lips were thick and full . . . perfect. She tried to find a single flaw in his face. There wasn’t one, and for some reason that annoyed her to no end.
His eyes suddenly lifted from the drawing. As usual, she was lost in the sapphire depths, making it hard to concentrate on what he was saying. She wondered if there’d ever been a sapphire found that actually held the glittering color his eyes did. She’d seen some glaciers that came close, but even they weren’t as appealing as Seb’s eyes, mainly because they were surrounded by his flawless face.
His nose was straight, strong, his cheekbones high. His jaw . . . she nearly sighed as she mentally traced the strong contours of his jaw, the slightest bit of darkening from the stubble that peeked through. His jaw was masculine, even when it was clenched as it was currently. Her eyes lazily wound back up to his, now a stormy cobalt blue beneath thunderous eyebrows.
She jerked as she realized that look was directed at her. She blinked, wondering what she’d done to make him so angry.
“Are you going to stare at me all day, or can we actually get some work done?”
Heat flushed through Kara and she sat upright, tearing her gaze from his face. “I’m sorry. I was just . . . daydreaming,” she finished lamely. It wasn’t a lie. She had been daydreaming, just about him.
Seb threw his pencil down on the table, pacing in front of it. Kara kept her gaze firmly on the drawing, not allowing herself a glimpse of his beautiful fury. Well, maybe just one peek, quick, not long enough for him to notice.
Finally he stopped in front of her, hands spread to either side of the drawing table. “Kara!” The fervor with which he spoke her name forced her attention back to him. He bit out some unintelligible words before saying, “Would you rather I spoke to the Big Guy and asked him to reassign you?”
Kara bristled. “Reassign me? Why?”
“You seem to have a hard time concentrating. Maybe you’re bored, I don’t know. But we have a lot of work to do, a lot to accomplish in a short amount of time.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” she demanded, her hands curling into fists. “I’m as aware as you are of what we need to do. I’m anything but bored. This is the most exciting thing I’ve done in . . . ever. If anyone’s going to be reassigned, it’s not me!”
He leaned toward her and as quickly as her anger came, it fled as her thoughts scattered. “Then please,” he said, teeth gritted, “try to limit your daydreaming to lunchtime, or after work.”
And the anger was back. She narrowed her eyes, leaning toward him as well. “You aren’t my boss.” His eyes widened at her nearness and he swiftly pulled away. “However,” she acquiesced in the knowledge that he was in the right as she had admitted to daydreaming, “I promise to concentrate better.” Shouldn’t be hard since he was being such a jerk.
He inhaled deeply though his nose, then slowly released the breath. “Fine.” The word was short and terse. “Let’s get back to work, then.”
He came back around the table to her side, and she looked down at the drawing. She’d just have to avoid looking directly at him—it should be easy, like the pains one took to avoid looking directly at the sun.
“I like the windows,” she said, trying to ignore his nearness. “But I think it would be cool to add some spires to the building, give it sort of the look of a castle.” She could feel his eyes on her, but refused to look up. “Here and here.” She pointed. Finally his gaze returned to the paper.
He sketched the spires, and between the two of them they managed to come up with an outline of a building that was very castle-like, and yet retained the soaring, majestic feel of the surrounding glaciers.
“We should build it from amazonite,” Kara said.
“Yes,” Seb agreed, excitement lighting his voice. She made the mistake of glancing up at him at his tone, immediately regretting doing so. Seb was stunning under any circumstance, but when laughter or excitement lit his face, it was as if a supernova landed on earth—bright, colorful, explosive. “The turquoise color of amazonite will contrast beautifully with the dark blue of the glaciers, and the sun glinting off the ice will turn the amazonite into something sparkling.”
“Uhn.” Her response given from her sagging jaw meant nothing, but Seb seemed to take it as agreement.
“And we could set up permanent lighting from beneath where it shines up onto the walls and glaciers.”
“Uhn,” she repeated. Her stomach chose that moment to
growl, and Seb’s face fell. He looked up at the clock on the wall, and she pulled her gaze from him.
“Looks like we worked through lunch. Sorry about that.”
She nodded, still avoiding looking at him. “It’s as much my fault. I suppose we should eat, though.” Her words were followed by another loud rumble from her stomach and she grinned.
“I suppose we should.” He nodded briskly and strode to the door. Kara watched him, a little annoyed that he was leaving her here. He turned back toward her, his face returning to his usual aloof, arrogant expression. “Are you coming?”
Kara sighed, almost relieved to have this side of him back. She nodded and left the room as he held the door for her. She almost managed not to inhale his unique, clean scent as she passed. But at least she managed to not get lost in staring at him yet again. Almost.
Chapter Six
Kara stripped her jacket off and spread her wings wide. She rolled her shoulders, the movement sending a relaxing shiver across her wings, through each feather. She stood inside her cottage, afraid of going to the cliff. Though she’d not found anyone in the bushes on her last flight, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of having been watched. The thought terrified her.
She glanced up at the ceiling, wondering if it would be all that difficult to just do a little flutter around the room when a knock sounded on the door. She jerked, instinctively pulling her wings in, grimacing against the pain of the movement. She quickly grabbed a sweater and pulled it on, her mind immediately panicked at the thought that someone might see through a slit in the curtains, in spite of the fact that she’d secured them tightly.
She took a deep, calming breath and moved to open the door, pulling it only far enough to peek out. She nearly slammed it when she saw who stood on the other side. Seb. Instead she simply stared at him dumbly. Long moments passed before he lifted one brow sardonically.
“I’m not going to bite you.” Pause. “Unless you want me to.”
A Fantasy Christmas Page 4