“It’s great to see you.” His friend Brock Montrose grasped his hand.
Brock’s wife Melanie came forward as well, a bright smile on her face. She was dressed in a bright purple ski jacket with a white knit hat. “Hi, Sam.”
Sam gave her a quick hug.
“How’ve you been?” she asked, drawing back. “The girls are here with you?”
“They just took off down the path,” Sam said. “Libby?” he asked, noting their six and four year old sons by their side, but not seeing their daughter.
“She’s off inspecting the trees,” Melanie said with a laugh. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he answered heartily, giving her a broad smile. “We’re picking the tree.”
“Aren’t we all?” She watched him closely.
He loved Melanie and Brock, but he hated being the object of pity.
“Daddy, Daddy,” came Amelia’s high voice.
Sam turned, grateful for the distraction.
“We found Libby,” Amelia said. “They’re getting a tree tonight, too.”
“Hello, Libby,” Sam said. Then he looked to the boys. “And hello to Grant and Foster. How are you boys?”
“I’m fine,” six-year-old Grant answered dutifully.
Foster plunked his thumb into his mouth and clung silently to his mother’s leg.
Sam didn’t blame him. Grant had barely turned four when Sam and the girls moved out of the house next door to the Montrose’s. Foster wouldn’t even remember them.
“Can we have some hot chocolate?” Sophie asked.
“They have marshmallows,” Libby sang out.
“Sure you can,” Sam said.
“Me too, Mommy,” Grant said.
Melanie gave Sam a helpless grin. “All part of the experience.”
“All part,” he agreed.
The three girls scampered away. Melanie followed with the two boys.
“So, what’s up?” Brock sounded serious, getting down to it, the way Brock always did. It was why Sam tried to avoid him.
“It’s all good,” Sam said, making a show of watching the girls talking and laughing as they joined the hot chocolate lineup.
“What do you mean good? You haven’t been near your place in weeks, probably more like months.”
“I’ve been busy,” Sam answered casually. “The shop’s slammed with orders.”
“Libby misses the twins.”
A wave of guilt hit Sam. The three girls had been inseparable since they’d learned to walk. Brock and Melanie had been his and Kara’s best friends. They’d spent countess days in each other’s backyards, countless evenings sprawled in one of their living rooms, watching movies on sleepovers. They’d shared picnics on the beach and drives to the aquarium. Seeing each other at school and on occasion, wasn’t the same thing.
“I’m—” Sam started, but he couldn’t finish.
Brock clamped an understanding hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Toughing it out on your own isn’t going to make it any easier.
Sam pulled a breath into his tight chest. “Nothing will make it easier.”
“I wish you’d let us help. Or at least let me help. I get that you can’t come back to the house right now.”
“I’m too busy to—”
“You’re not too busy for lunch. Everybody’s got to eat. Or a beer. We can meet for a beer anytime you want.”
Brock wasn’t helping. He was making Sam feel even worse. It was bad enough that he missed Kara so much that his bones ached, bad enough that Christmas was almost upon them and he could barely be a decent father, but now he had to feel guilty for blowing off his best friend.
“Is there any way to make it worse?” Brock asked in an undertone.
Sam hoped not. He didn’t think he could tolerate feeling any worse.
“I’m guessing the answer is no,” Brock continued. “So why not give it a shot? Have a beer with me. We talk about anything or nothing. But you’ve got to try something, man. Anything’s better than gritting your teeth through the next ten days.” He paused. “Your kids deserve better than that.”
That criticism hit Sam harder than anything could. He knew Brock was counting on that as a way to shake him up. But he also knew Brock was right. Amelia and Sophie deserved better than Sam had been giving.
He knew a beer wouldn’t help. But Brock was a loyal friend who was trying hard to help. The least Sam could do was meet him half way.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s have a beer.”
“Tomorrow,” Brock said.
“Tomorrow,” Sam agreed, knowing it was better to get it over with.
*
Jasmine had found a pathway off the tarmac that wound its way through the quiet woods. Snow clung to the delicate tree branches surrounding her, shining against hundreds of tiny white lights that decorated the edges of the pathway. The flakes were falling harder now, growing in size, giving a fairyland sparkle to the scene.
Around a corner, a colorful gazebo appeared. It was decked out for the season and unbelievably beautiful. She picked up her pace and walked into the magical scene. Surrounded by color and light, she tipped her head back, holding out her tongue to catch a snowflake. Wind whispered, muted through the trees, and a feeling of calm enveloped her.
She opened her eyes again and stared at it all for a long time. Then as the cold seeped in, she made her way past ice sculptures, snowmen, and a whimsical miniature train.
Beyond the clearing, the woods opened up. A wider pathway led to the airport parking lot that wrapped around the small terminal building. The parked cars were covered in a thick layer of snow. The owners must have been gone for a while. She imagined them as passengers on an outbound flight, maybe to Florida or the Caribbean.
She felt a brief flash of envy. She’d never spent Christmas on a beach. There were far too many holiday duties for the royal family in Vollan.
The thought drew her back into her real life. The king’s children’s gala would be next weekend, and she’d spend two days at those events. She was happiest talking one-on-one to the children, seeing the excitement shining in their eyes, hearing their hopes and dreams for Christmas morning.
She would also attend the capital city’s symphony and choir night, ride in the parade, and sit with her father, her uncle, and her cousin Adara during Christmas Eve services. The list went on and on.
She savored the last few moments of peace, knowing the interlude was over, and she had to head back to the plane. Hopefully, she’d be able to sleep most of the way to Vollan. It would help to be sharp when she got home. Her father would have questions. He’d expect an explanation.
She hoped she could come up with one that made sense. Right now, all she knew was that her panic was irrational. And irrational emotions were unfathomable to the king.
From the airport parking lot, she could see the main entrance to the terminal. It seemed easier to go through the building than to retrace her steps, so she trudged along the sidewalk, snowflakes building up on her jacket, the oversized rubber boots slipping against her feet. The wind was picking up, blowing snow across her bare knees—the idea of getting inside looked better and better.
Through the glass front doors, the terminal was quiet. Two luggage carousals were still. A long bank of check-in counters stood empty. And a lone security guard was stationed at the far end of the terminal. The arrivals and departures boards showed only two flights, both were flagged as cancelled.
“Can I help you, dear?” A sixty-ish woman approached Jasmine. She wore a bright blue plaid vest over a white blouse. Her name tag identified her as “Belle” in stylized script above the words “Welcome to Tucker”.
“Yes. Thank you,” Jasmine answered, looking along the back wall for a likely exit. “I need to get back outside.”
The woman seemed puzzled, glancing behind Jasmine to the main doors.
“Oh, not to the parking lot,” Jasmine explained. “My plane is on the tarmac. I need to get back on board.”
&
nbsp; “I’m afraid all the flights are cancelled tonight,” Belle said.
“Not mine. I’m traveling on a private plane.”
Belle seemed to take in Jasmine’s clothing. Her expression wasn’t judgmental, more curious.
Jasmine was reminded of her outlandish outfit.
She smiled, feeling self-conscious as she gestured to the oversized coat and boots. “I stepped out for a breath of fresh air.”
She noted the security guard was approaching them.
“Is everything okay, Belle?” the man asked as he grew close.
“This young lady says she’s here to catch a plane,” said Belle.
There was an odd inflection in her tone, a gentleness, as if she was taking about a child, and Jasmine realized Belle might be wondering about her mental state.
“I’m so sorry for the confusion,” she told the security guard. “I’m Jasmine Arcelus. I flew in on a private plane about an hour ago. It’s a diplomatic aircraft from Vollan. We’re on our way home from New York, and we had to stop for a mechanical repair. Maybe you could radio the captain?”
The two exchanged a look, and Jasmine realized they weren’t yet sure what to make of her. She wasn’t worried. As soon as they spoke to the flight crew, everything would be cleared up.
“I can go make a call,” the security guard said.
“Thank you, Nolan,” Belle said. To Jasmine, she said. “Why don’t we sit down?” Her voice still seemed too carefully kind.
“I haven’t lost my mind,” said Jasmine.
“Of course you haven’t. But let’s let Nolan look into it for us?”
“If you check out the window.” Jasmine glanced around the terminal, looking for a place that would give a view of the tarmac. “You’ll see the plane. Maybe Nolan could take me out there and confirm my story with the crew.”
There had to be a simple way to work this out.
“He’s coming back now,” Belle said.
“There was definitely a plane that landed from Vollan,” he said.
Jasmine felt a rush of relief.
“But they took off again half an hour ago,” he said.
Jasmine was sure she couldn’t have heard right. “They wouldn’t take off without me.”
“They did, ma’am.”
She staggered a step. It was more the awkward boots than anything else. But Belle reached out to steady her. The woman’s hand was strangely comforting.
Had nobody checked to make sure she was on board? Did Darren think she was resting in the bedroom? She’d been told they’d have two hours on the ground.
“They have to come back,” She said to Belle and Nolan. “Call them. They’ll come back for me, I’m—”
“They’ve already left the airport’s control area,” Nolan said.
“Surely somebody can contact them.”
“We can get a message through air traffic control,” Nolan said. “But it won’t help.”
“They will come back for me,” Jasmine assured the two.
“They can’t,” said Nolan. “The runway’s closed. There’s a blizzard coming in fast, and it’s likely to shut down most of the state.”
Jasmine couldn’t wrap her head around his words.
Her plane was gone. They’d left her behind, and they couldn’t come back.
“Don’t you worry, dear,” said Belle. “It’ll only be a couple of days.”
Disbelief took the strength from Jasmine’s voice. “A couple of…days?”
“Is there someone you can call?” asked Nolan. “We can help you find a hotel.”
It hit Jasmine then that she didn’t have her phone. She didn’t have anything. Darren had her passport somewhere on board. She didn’t carry money, didn’t have credit cards. And without her phone’s contact list, she didn’t know anyone’s number.
“She doesn’t need a hotel,” Belle said staunchly. “She can stay with me.”
“Belle, you can’t—” Nolan began.
“Nonsense,” Belle said. “I most certainly can.” To Jasmine, she said. “I have plenty of room. So there’s no problem at all.”
“I don’t have any money,” Jasmine felt compelled to tell the kind woman.
The royal family would, of course, pay for everything once her plane could return. But for the moment, she was destitute.
“You don’t need money,” Belle said. “This is an emergency.”
“Can someone at least radio the plane?” she asked Nolan. “And tell them I’m here? When they find me gone, they’ll be worried.”
She tried not to imagine the reaction of the security detail and then her father. One simply didn’t misplace the Crown Princess. Nothing remotely like this had ever happened.
“It might take a while to get through,” Nolan said. “But yes, we should be able to get them a message.”
“Thank you.” She was immensely grateful. “Please be sure to tell them I got off for some air. It’s important that they understand. Tell them I’m safe, and please warn them about the weather.”
“Oh, they’ll know about the weather,” said Nolan with a wry chuckle. Then he seemed to take in Jasmine’s stricken expression. He sobered. “But don’t worry. I’ll pass on the message.”
“Thank you,” she said again. She turned to Belle. “And thank you for rescuing me.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Belle took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You can meet my son-in-law and my granddaughters. You’ll love them.”
Chapter Two
Sam paused in the laundry room that was positioned between the garage and the kitchen. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket. The scent of balsam pine had permeated the fabric, reminding him of Kara and the last Christmas season they’d spent together.
His daughters had skipped inside ahead of him, their voices growing animated as they began recounting their tree cutting adventure. Clearly, Belle was home now to provide an audience.
“Daddy caught it before it hit the ground,” Amelia said.
“He swore,” Sophie said, excitement clear in her tone.
“I did not swear,” Sam said as he entered the kitchen.
He stopped short. He’d assumed the girls were talking to Belle. Instead, he found them in conversation with an attractive, blonde stranger.
The woman was slim and maybe five-feet-four. She had full red lips, deep green eyes, and porcelain skin that looked too perfect to be real. On top of her beauty, she exuded wealth and class. Her outfit was polished to a fine sheen—a crisp white blouse, fitted blazer, and a slim skirt.
“Girls?” he asked, wondering who this woman could be, and finding himself irritated that she’d invaded the intimacy of their kitchen. It was hard enough for him to keep it together for his daughters tonight, never mind for a total stranger.
The woman glanced at his bare chest, and the faintest blush appeared in her cheeks.
“You said dang it,” Amelia said.
“Dang it isn’t a swear word,” he told her, still cataloguing the woman.
She had bare feet. What was she doing with bare feet on a night like this?
Before he could guard against it, his hormones surged. The unfamiliar feeling rocked him to his toes. What was wrong with him? It was ridiculous to think a lavender pedicure was off the charts sexy.
“It’s a cover swear,” Sophie said. “We all know you meant—”
“Sophie!” Sam admonished, appalled that she might blurt out an actual swear word.
He couldn’t help but glance at the woman to gauge her reaction to the conversation. She looked slightly amused, and slightly…something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he didn’t like it. Tolerant, maybe? But who was she to tolerate them? Who was she?
“It’s ten feet tall,” Amelia sang out. “The biggest one there.”
Belle came in from the living room then. She looked particularly pleased with herself, and seemed very happy to have him home. “Sam. There you are. We have company tonight.”<
br />
“So I see.” He failed to keep the edge from in his tone.
Belle ignored it, but it was clear the stranger had noticed.
“This is Jasmine Arcelus,” said Belle. “She’s been stranded in Tucker by the blizzard. The airport’s closed, and the phones are down already.”
His glance went briefly to the window, reconfirming the heavy snowfall. He’d heard the weather report on the drive back from the Christmas tree forest, and he knew there was a monster storm bearing down on the state.
“This is Sam,” Belle said to Jasmine. “Sophie and Amelia’s father.”
“Hello, Sam.” Jasmine’s accent was soft and cultured, but he couldn’t quite place it.
She held out a slim hand. He didn’t want to touch her, but there was no way to avoid it. Her hand was cool, smooth, and delicate, in stark contrast to his, which was broad and scarred, and currently streaked with dirt and sap from cutting the tree.
Embarrassed, he quickly pulled away. “I’m sorry.”
She looked puzzled.
“My hand is dirty.” He rubbed his palm against his jeans.
She didn’t check to see if he’d left a smudge on her hand. Instead, she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
When she said his name, something pressed heavily against his chest. She was a random stranger, he told himself. He has no business having an emotional reaction to her.
“The tree is drying in the garage,” Amelia said.
“It was all covered in snow,” Sophie said.
“Did something happen to your shirt?” Belle asked him.
“The tree,” Sam answered, suddenly acutely aware of his bare chest. “It got dirty.”
He felt self-conscious standing here half-naked. Jasmine’s bare feet and his bare chest made the situation feel intimate—which was absurd. There were five of them in the kitchen, and it was perfectly acceptable for a man to be shirtless in his own home. There was nothing remotely intimate about it.
“Jasmine was stranded at the airport,” Belle continued. “Her plane left without her.”
“Were you late?” Sophie asked Jasmine. “Daddy was late once, and he got stuck in Chicago for three days.”
His Jingle Bell Princess Page 2