“Go on, my boy,” Hawthorne cheered. “As pretty as she is, you might lose her to the next fellow who walks in the door.”
A muscle jumped in Ayden’s jaw before he stepped a whisper closer and cupped her face. She held the air inside her lungs as he brought his lips down to meet hers. A wave of tender heat sent her heart fluttering in all directions.
Now she understood why women broke windows in the middle of the night for him. Undemanding, his mouth shifted, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat. He parted her lips and dipped his tongue inside her mouth, teasing her with soft and unhurried strokes. Dizzy and weak, Grace wanted to melt against him, to forget they were only doing this to satisfy an older couple’s nostalgic influence. Then he pulled away, leaving her breathless.
“That was lovely,” Wilhelmina said, breaking the fleeting and bewildering moment. Grace shook herself and glanced up at Ayden, neither a smirk nor a smile showing her what he thought of their mistletoe moment. Without at word, he escorted her outside, the frigid air cooling her heated skin and reeling senses.
“Now that that’s over with…” Ayden said in a tone that was both casual and unaffected.
The cloud nine Grace had been floating on for the last few moments, suddenly opened up, sending her spiraling back down to earth. Despite sounding impassive to what had just taken place, he yanked at her door and helped her inside before stalking around to join her. As she glanced at his stoic profile, he jerked the truck in gear with short, aggressive movements. She wondered if his stormy mood might have to do with them having to kiss so soon.
“Look, I’m sorry we didn’t find anything else out about Danielle,” he said after a long, brooding moment.
Grace knew he didn’t mean what he said. She still needed to convince his sister his heart was vulnerable enough to break. “You know, you could have just told them you don’t like public displays of affection,” Grace blurted out, still stung by his casual reaction to their first kiss. Not that she expected him to drop to his knees and declare some sort of unbridled passion for her. Damn. A half-cocked grin of approval would have sufficed.
“You know, I hate to be the one to break this to you Grace, but I have no problem with public displays of affection, and just about everyone in Mistletoe knows it.”
Grace had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw from dropping open. He had no sense of subtleness when it came to reminding her how many girlfriends he had and what he’d done with them. She tried to think of something to say, but he beat her to it.
“Which brings me to this point, I think we need to spend some time…kissing, before we show up at Maggie’s and start fumbling for each other’s lips like a couple of thirteen-year-olds.”
“Well,” she said, trying to keep up with him. “I’ve never fumbled for anyone’s lips, ever, and we already did kiss!”
“That”—he lifted his index finger into the air to make his point—“was not a kiss.”
She sat blinking at him and then glancing around, wondering if she should take his comment as an insult. “Then, what would you call it?”
He didn’t answer her, choosing to swing the truck into a horseshoe parkway between town and Hearth’s Gate. The majestic view of the snow-covered mountains against the now-azure sky astounded her. So did the seriousness in his gaze when she finally twisted around to confront him.
“What…are we doing?” She pinned her back to the passenger side door.
“I’m going to give you a lesson.”
She gawked at him, managing to squeak out an eventual reply. “A lesson in what?”
A cunning grin touched his lips, the same grin she knew turned women’s knees to liquid. She glanced away for a moment, trying to soothe the revving of her pulse and the sting of the insult. She never thought herself as a bad kisser, and it was mortifying to believe he’d reached that conclusion after only one short, though significant incident between them.
Still trying to pluck the stinger out of her pride, she lobbed an insult back at him. “Well, if I could use some lessons on kissing, then you could use some lessons on manners.”
“Manners? To whom are you comparing me? Rick?”
Grace drew back, astonished and speechless. If she thought it at all possible, she might believe Ayden McCabe was jealous. Then, it hit her like an avalanche. She’d left him under the mistletoe after her phone rang and then ended the call with the most endearing words in the English language. I love you.
“Just so you know, I was talking to—”
“I know exactly who you were talking to, Grace, and like you’ve said, it really isn’t any of my business. However, for the sake of our agreement, I do need you to stay in character. You’re not supposed to break my heart until after you’ve made some effort to claim it.”
As the truck idled, they battled with Grace reaching back for some much-needed ammunition. “I understand full well the extent of my agreement, and by the time this debacle is over, you will get exactly what you deserve.”
He drew a few inches from her mouth. “In that case, be careful of where you stand in this town, Miss Evans. A phone call might not be able to save you next time.”
He lowered his gaze to her lips, the gesture stealing a heartbeat and raising the heat inside the cabin to sweltering. All of a sudden, she remembered the ring tone he’d changed for Rick’s incoming call.
“ ‘Foolish’? Really?”
He shrugged, and she understood exactly why Rachel had smacked him yesterday. Ayden McCabe loved women. He also loved to keep them at an arm’s distance, probably to keep their slaps from causing too much damage to his face. Regarding Grace, however, he only cared about the appearance of a devoted girlfriend.
At least, for her sake, he’d laid out the rules early and honestly. He’d not only opened the book for her, but flipped all the way to the last page so there would be no question on how he wanted it to end. She should feel grateful. Right?
While the radio whispered “Silent Night,” Grace wanted to reconcile about the mistletoe, an enviable consequence if there ever was one. “Maybe you’re right,” she conceded on a huff. “If we’re going to get through this, I guess it wouldn’t hurt…getting to know one another, or parts of each other.”
“Good,” he said, so matter-of-factly she wondered if they’d just agreed to exchange recipes.
After a few motionless moments, with her still on the passenger side and him still on the driver’s side, she realized he meant for her to make the first move. She might have been more inclined if he hadn’t put in her head that she wasn’t any good at kissing. Still, she leaned forward, and then stopped. No, this is his idea to school her on the art of physical contact. She would sit and wait for him to come to her. Only, he didn’t.
After several moments of staring, he grunted and shook his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
She drew back, firing a response in his direction. “And I can’t even begin to imagine how we’re going to convince anyone we’re in love.”
She twisted back, closed her eyes, and let her head fall against the headrest. She believed if they didn’t find some sort of common ground soon, he’d replace her with one of his twenty-six or so ex-girlfriends, and she’d have to leave Mistletoe without Danielle. One of those alternatives upset her more than the other did.
“Grace, for this all to work out, you’ll have to relax.”
His deep and instructive voice made her flip her eyelids open. She angled her head and narrowed her gaze in his direction. “Is there anything else I’m doing wrong, Sensei?”
He chuckled, lifting his hand to rub at the stubble along his strong jaw line. Unable to stand being inside the cab with him any longer, Grace opened the door, stepped out, and slammed it shut. Emotionally exhausted, she pressed her back against the door and brought in a cold, wavering breath.
Yes, she was mad at Ayden. She was, however, more angry with herself. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d spent
more time thinking of a man who only wanted a fake relationship with her than a man who might, someday, want a real relationship with her.
“So this is what happens when you move forward?” she mumbled to herself.
“What happens?”
She jerked her head up to find Ayden beside her. So engrossed in her own pathetic musings, she hadn’t heard or noticed his approach.
“I came out here to sulk, so I’d appreciate a little privacy.” She sent him an exaggerated smile. She then shivered, her noticeable discomfort prompting him to shift in front of her. His wondrous form blocked out the frigid wind and some of the trickling snowflakes.
“I believe I forgot to tell you, there’s no sulking in Mistletoe, especially…outside…this time of year.”
Grace clicked her tongue and dropped her forehead toward Ayden’s chest. Despite their argument in the truck or how she felt about their situation, she longed to have someone to lean against, if only for a couple of days.
A few silent moments later, his arms wrapped around her back, drawing her deeper into his sturdy embrace. Against her ear, his heart thumbed fast and strong. She wanted to believe she’d caused this physical reaction, but how could she when she’d been reminded, on many occasions, she wasn’t even his type.
“Okay.” She sighed, pulling back and making the mistake of glancing up into his cerulean blue eyes. In a matter of three loud heartbeats, heat spread from her toes to her face. The frosty breath she released made her reaction to him so noticeable
She relented to twisting toward the cab when he lifted his hand to her cheek and titled her lips up to meet his. Her stomach flipped, her pulse sputtered, and a car horn blaring behind her rattled the moment like a 3.5 earthquake.
“What the—”
Chapter Nine
They turned to see Neil waving from the driver’s side of his 2011 Dodge Ram, his eyes frantic and his face a shade of a red summer rose. “Sarah’s in the hospital, they say she’s five centimeters,” he yelled while powering down his window.
Ayden held up a hand. “Go. We’ll meet you there.”
“No.” Neil panted as if he was the one having the baby. “Go get Maggie’s tree, and I’ll call when you can visit.” The man rendered a stiff salute and sped away, fishtailing to the right side of the road.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Grace said, feeling a little foolish.
Ayden nodded. “Sarah’s thirty-seven weeks, so I think everything is fine. As for the parents, now that’s another matter.” He sent her a wink, seeming to forget he was about to kiss her and she was about to let him.
Inside the cab, she huddled close to the heater as Ayden maneuvered his truck back onto the road. “So, does this mean we’re on tree duty?”
He nodded in her direction. “How are you with an axe?”
Grace squirmed under the thought of such an unfamiliar endeavor. “They do make fake trees, you know?”
He sliced a disapproving glance before committing to driving up a winding road, the truck moving closer to the clouds than before. Grace forced her mind and body to relax, allowing the careful bounce over uneven terrain to dissolve any anxiousness she felt toward Ayden or their situation.
Around a quick bend in the road, a sign indicated the place as a designated Christmas Tree National Forest. On each side of them, snow-covered firs lined the narrow lane, the path getting smaller and denser the further they traveled. He finally halted the truck inside an empty three-space-deep parking lot.
“Just to make one thing clear.” His features softened. “I was only kidding about the axe. I don’t expect you to help me with this. You’re welcome to stay in the truck if you’d like.”
She drew back, insulted that he assumed her too fragile to help chop down a measly old tree. “Lead the way,” she said, the sky darker than before with a coating of gray and snow beginning to fall fast and thick on the windshield.
He laughed before shaking his head and leaping from his side to stride around to hers. “Here.” He reached behind her seat to pull out a navy blue crocheted toboggan cap, matching scarf, and mittens. With expert care, he placed the cap on her head and the scarf around her shoulders, leaning in so close, her lips almost touched his neck.
God, he smelled so clean and deliciously masculine. She held the air inside her lungs to keep from breathing on him. Leave it to a man to create a relationship born of physical needs as opposed to emotional ones.
As she wiggled her fingers through the cozy mittens, he leaned over to grab an axe from the back before leading them on their journey.
“Are these Maggie’s, too?” she said, stretching out her arms.
“No, my nephew’s.”
“Oh. How old is he?”
“Four,” Ayden answered without faltering.
Grace dropped her chin to glance down at her gloved hands. Rick always complained about them being too small.
“How can you bake anything with those things?” he’d tease her without smiling. She wondered why she’d stayed with him for so long. Fear? No. Familiarity. Why did she ever have to plan anything, be afraid of anything, when she knew what was going to happen one day, one year from now.
“Grace, are you all right?”
Ayden’s concerned tone shook her from her self-conscious thoughts. “Yes, of course.” She moved to stuff her fisted hands in her coat pockets when Ayden caught one to wrap in his, guiding her toward the tree forest. They tramped through the snow, she admiring the beauty of her surroundings and the reprieve from their earlier conversation. She inhaled deep, crisp mountain air and the fragrance of sappy fir filling her senses and some far removed memory.
So mesmerized by what lay ahead, she’d not paid one bit of attention to where she was going, until her feet refused to budge under a mound of clumpy brown snow. Ayden stretched out his arm, until he realized she’d haltered. He glanced back and then down to her shoes.
“I think…I’m stuck.”
She glanced up in time to find his fist pressed over his lips, a futile effort to keep from laughing.
“I’m so glad you find this amusing, McCabe.”
He cleared his throat and lifted his hands, palm out. “Stay put.”
“That’s not even remotely funny.”
He showed her a crooked smile and then handed her the axe. She waited with her back to him, missing his comforting presence in the lagging moments. She hummed a tune, finding “Foolish” stuck in her brain, before the sound of Ayden’s easy footfalls sounded behind her. She shivered when he drew a few inches away, dropping a pair of small mountain boots at her feet.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” He wasn’t thinking of lifting her out of her buried, second-hand, half-price ankle boots into the perfect pair of tan Timberlands, was he?
His strong arms wrapped around her midsection, causing her heart to catapult hard against her chest. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” She wanted her voice to sound steady, unaffected. It came out as a high-pitched squeak.
“And I think you think too much,” he said against her left ear. If he meant to shut her up for a few seconds, it worked. Too stunned to contemplate a clever comeback, he lifted her with ease, his own heart beating hard and fast against her shoulder blade.
Without a fight, she allowed him to ease her damp feet into the cold, but dry footwear. Then he let go, and she missed his strength and the spicy, clean scent of him.
“How do they fit?” he asked, stepping back.
“Fine, just don’t tell me these are a pair your nephew left in the truck.”
“They’re not.”
“Good.”
“They’re actually a pair he grew out of last year.”
He smirked and clasped her hand again, procuring the axe and swinging it onto his opposite shoulder. He didn’t exactly resemble Paul Bunyan, although his woodsy attire did remind her of the looming character.
They traveled a little further before he stopped, let go of her
hand, and presented her with the tree he planned to chop down. “What do you think?”
It stood seven feet tall with soft blue-green needles and a silvery mist to their fat and bushy branches. In all her life, she thought she’d never seen a more perfect Christmas tree. “Beautiful.” She leaned in, inhaling the holiday fragrance she’d been deprived of for so long.
“Yes.”
She thought he was speaking of the tree until she glanced in his direction and found his magnificent gaze steady upon her face.
Unused to such compliments or attention, she ducked her head to keep the modest blush hidden. Not the least bit cold now, except for her nose, which she guessed was as red as her cheeks, she stepped back to give him room. “Where should I stand?”
She waited for him to point, designating a spot to his left. She clomped backward and watched him handle the ancient tool with precision and skill.
He began to chop, his face focused and magnificent. She kept her gaze there until a glimmer in the tree caught her attention.
“Is that…wait! Stop!” she yelled and rushed forward.
“Grace, no!”
Ayden’s panic-filled voice was lost with the splintering sound of wood echoing in Grace’s ear. She glanced up to find the chubby branches hurtling forward, grasping at her like a seizing relative. She tried to retreat, but her feet, so unaccustomed to the boots, refused to move fast enough. The heavy fir, in all its grandness, toppled over her, shoving her deep into the snow.
She lay in a daze, the place above her right eyebrow stinging, her nose numb, and her pride severed. The reality of her foolishness settled upon her like an avalanche, and she dreaded the instant of settling her gaze upon Ayden’s patronizing features. To avoid the moment, she squeezed her eyes shut until the heaviness lifted and muted daylight showed through her eyelids.
“Grace,” he said in a low and concerned voice close to her left ear. His hot breath fanned across her frozen face and thawed her lips.
“If you’re going to ask if that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, rest assured, it was not,” she confided.
In Mistletoe Page 8