by Dora Hiers
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Praise
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Thank you…
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Christmas in the Rink
Dora Hiers
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Christmas in the Rink
COPYRIGHT 2014 by Dora Hiers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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Contact Information: [email protected]
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover Art by Nicola Martinez
White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC
Publishing History
First White Rose Edition, 2014
Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-427-5
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Jesus, my Savior, my Lord.
Thank you for the ultimate gift: Love.
Praise
Journey’s End:
“I loved Journey's End. The book pulls you in and keeps you turning pages with a smile on your face. If you like faith-filled, fun-loving, fast-paced romance, this is the book for you!” ~ Susan Tuttle
Journey’s Edge:
"Mixed in with the action, lies a heart-warming romance, which leaves the main characters in your mind after the last page is turned. A breathless whirlwind that leaves you doubting the HEA you know is coming." ~ Clare Revell
When Truth Whispers:
"They were larger than life characters, and the chemistry between them was electric. I loved it!" ~Sherry Kuhn
You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
~Psalms 16:11
1
Conner Weddington navigated the tow truck through the chaos that littered Highway 15, the only major road running north and south through Evergreen Peak, Colorado. Cars tipped, hood first, into the ditches on both sides of the road, and some were just plain stuck where they stopped, unable to go any further because of the slick ice and blinding snowfall.
Idiots.
Didn’t they know that ice was best enjoyed in the rink, and not on the highway? What was so all-fired important that these people had to be out on the roads and not safely ensconced in warm houses?
And now he had to be out in it. Working.
Maybe he was the stupid one. Digging thoughtless clods out of a killer snowstorm wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his first day on the job. Not that he ever imagined he’d be back in Evergreen Peak. Or camping out in his father’s house while he sifted through fifty years’ worth of…junk.
Conner snorted and then ground his teeth while his boot hovered just above the brake. The truck cruised along on its own speed. With the heat blasting his face, he scanned the vehicles for the dark blue compact the auto club had called him to rescue. It wasn’t easy to make out colors through the wet, heavy snowflakes that reduced his visibility not much farther than the truck’s massive hood, virtually blinding him. He leaned forward, studying the car off to the right.
There. That had to be her.
He assessed the situation before maneuvering the big truck onto the side of the road, babied it to a stop, and stomped out. “Not too smart driving in this mess,” he muttered, the fierce wind stealing his words as soon as they escaped his mouth, but he didn’t care.
“You’re right. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t leave work until my last student was picked up. And now I’m afraid I won’t be able to pick up my niece from daycare.” Worry came through loud and clear in her voice.
He hadn’t seen her get out of the car, but he didn’t regret his words. He glanced at the tiny slip of a woman. The top of her head probably didn’t reach his chest. With arms hugging her chest and teeth clacking together, the heavy jacket apparently did little to prevent the arctic wind from chilling her bones. His gaze landed briefly on her face. She reminded him of…
The frigid air he sucked in burned all the way to his lungs. Chaney Mitchum? No. That couldn’t be her. God, You wouldn’t do that to me, would You?
His gaze devoured the hair that cascaded over her shoulders in waves below the cherry red beret, before moving on to her eyes. Long lashes lifted from pink cheeks to reveal wide jade jewels. The oddly familiar puffiness rimmed the bottom lashes.
His jaw dropped, and his stomach plunged to his steel-toed boots. It had to be her. And he sure wasn’t thrilled about Chaney seeing him like this. He’d only planned to light in this town long enough to pack up his stuff and take care of business before heading back out, leaving a “For Sale” sign in his dad’s yard.
Ironic that his old partner would be practically the first person he’d run into. Not that Evergreen Peak was that big. He’d just hoped to…what? Blend in with the tourists? He gave his head a little shake. He should have known better.
So Chaney Mitchum was a teacher now, and an aunt. He tucked that knowledge away and rubbed greasy, grimy hands down his cargo pants, turning his back on her to hoist the shovel out of the bed. Digging out her car was the best option. He didn’t relish the idea of rubbing shoulders with her all the way into town. She’d ask too many questions. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
“You’re going to shovel it out? Not tow it?” she asked, as if she doubted his decision.
Well, she wouldn’t be the first.
“We’ll give it a try. Might work.” He firmed his jaw and got busy shoveling around the back end, farthest away from her. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize him. He wasn’t the guy she’d known back in high school, and definitely not wearing the same glamorous uniform.
Boots crunched through the snow, coming to a stop behind him.
He should have known. He huffed, but not from effort.
“Thank you for coming out in this.”
He didn’t turn around, just kept heaving snow out from around the car and tossing it towards the ditch.
“Yeah. No problem.” If it had been anybody else, it would have been. But Chaney? Definitely not. He owed her at least this much. So much more, truthfully, but—
With the shovel in midair, he twisted his head over a shoulder and stole another look. She hadn’t changed. She was still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. He finished digging out the worst of it and turned back around, extending a palm to collect the key.
“I must have only been driving ten miles an hour. I tried so careful not to get stuck.” Chaney’s teeth were still chattering as she pressed the key in his palm. This time, she gla
nced full on at his face. Her brows arched, and then narrowed, her head tilting to the side just a bit, studying him.
He gulped, flicking his head towards the disabled car. “No worries. It doesn’t look too bad. I think we’ll have you out of here…” his voice faded at her gasp.
Her jaw dropped, her gloved hand fluttered to hover in front of her mouth, and shock registered in her green eyes.
So stunning, they’d always brought to mind a grassy meadow in spring.
“Conner?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, and if it hadn’t been for the wind switching directions, he’d never have heard it. “Conner Weddington?”
****
She’d been expecting him for a couple of weeks. But not today. Not here and not—a wet snowflake landed on her eyelid, and she blinked—definitely not during the worst storm of the decade, and when the only thing on her mind was getting to her niece and hugging her tight.
“Yeah. It’s me.” Conner shuffled those seriously long legs of his; his movement on the icy shoulder as graceful as it had been in the rink all those years ago. He tugged off his gloves and turned to toss them in the bed of the truck.
Was he trying to avoid her? As if! She almost chuckled. Not that avoiding her was even remotely possible in a town the size of Evergreen Peak, even if the tourists outnumbered the residents in the wintertime.
He turned back around and stuffed his hands deep in his cargo pants, mute. His lips pressed into a thin line, that look of stubbornness she remembered all too well firming his jaw.
Yeah. Well, she had a lot to say, or ask, rather. Starting with why he had disappeared right after Christmas break of his senior year. Sure, she got that his mom had just passed away, and that he’d been drowning in sorrow. But just when their hopes and dreams were taking flight, the countdown to the winter Olympics dwindling to days, how could he have deserted her?
“Seriously? You weren’t even going to let me know you were back in town?” She gave her head a little shake, and snowflakes tumbled from her hat and hair. Oh, that she could shake off all her memories of their skating days as easily. But they still haunted her dreams, and it didn’t help that he was standing in front of her now, still looking as infuriatingly delicious as he did back in high school.
Only those powerful shoulders had bulked up even more, and the muscles rippled just as clearly under the cargo work pants he wore now. Cobalt blue eyes burned with the same intensity, but the angles of his face seemed harder, more rugged. Not in an angry or violent way. Almost as if it were a mask to cover up…pain.
Whatever. She didn’t have time for a walk down memory lane. She had more important things to consider. Like getting to the daycare to pick up her niece before the storm worsened, or finally getting a hold of her mother to see if she could reach Annabelle. She held out her hand for the car key.
Conner’s hands didn’t budge from his pockets.
She took a step towards him. Her boot lost traction, and her arms flailed as her legs slid out from under her. She was going down.
An arm curled around her waist and tugged her to a stable, standing position, nestled close to him. Too close. With her palm flattened against his chest, she could feel the accelerated beat of his heart, and a stiff gust of air blew his scent, something citrusy and woodsy, and oh, too wonderful, her way. Could she help it if her nose lifted to inhale more of him?
“A little rusty out on the ice, Chaney?” His deep voice rumbled just over her head, more than a little amusement in his tone.
This was not good. She should be worried about getting out of here, not remembering how good, how right, it felt to be snuggled against his solid chest. “No. I do just fine in the rink on my skates, thank you very much.” She pushed away from him, abandoning the warmth of his chest.
“You look as graceful as ever.” His lips had fanned out, and his tone had transitioned to teasing, but were those sapphire eyes glowing with appreciation? And maybe something else? Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?
“Thanks. I think.” She gave him a playful swat. Probably with all the force of a gnat, considering the firmness of his arm.
He chuckled, but then his face took on a serious expression. “Better than I would do, I’m sure. I haven’t stepped a skate in the rink since I left.” His arm fell to his side, her car keys jangling from his fingertips, and his chin dipped to his chest while his boot kicked tiny dimples in the ice. He sighed, and then lifted his chin, his mournful gaze immobilizing her. “Let me see if I can get the car out of this mess now.” He shuffled to the driver’s side of her disabled car, a depressing droop to his shoulders.
That broke her heart more than Annabelle letting loose with those pathetic crocodile tears. She couldn’t reconcile the loneliness that seeped from his eyes with the way his dazzling blue eyes had always glimmered with excitement, with hopes and dreams. Or the dejected slant of his shoulders now with his majestic posture in the rink. What had happened to him in the years he’d been away?
His fingers latched onto the door handle of her car, and he twisted back to look at her. “You might want to move behind the truck. Safer that way, just in case this little gal doesn’t cooperate.” He flicked his head towards the tow truck, and then disappeared inside the car.
She followed his directions, moving gingerly across the icy mixture, and parked herself behind the truck. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She tugged it out.
I have Annabelle. We’re home. No worries. Be safe!
Thank God, her mother had gotten her message. She typed out a response. OK. May be a while yet. Car stuck. Tow truck working to get it out. She would tell Carole about Conner later, and now she could put her worry over Annabelle to rest. She tucked the phone back in her pocket and took a deep, cleansing breath.
The engine cranked to life, the sound breaking through the wind’s awful howl, dragging snowy white crystals off the ground to swirl around her legs. She tucked some flyaway hair behind an ear and wrapped her coat tighter, shivering as she peered around the edge of the giant tow truck.
Could he dislodge her car or would he have to hook it up? If he hooked it up to the tow truck, she’d have to ride with him all the way back to town. She’d get her answers then. She wasn’t sure what to pray for, that he’d—
Tires crunched through the snow as he eased the car forward, back, and then drove the car right out of its stronghold as if doing so didn’t require any special effort on his part.
Just like his skating. He’d always been a natural on the ice, and together they’d skated in perfect precision. She’d never been able to achieve that poetic elegance on ice with any other partner. Conner was responsible for offering her a fleeting glimpse of what they could accomplish, and then the stabbing pain as she watched the Olympics on television instead of from the sidelines; the hopes and dreams slipping from her grasp quicker than she’d slid into this mess.
She blew out a sigh. So much for getting answers. He’d probably vanish from her life as quickly as he’d reappeared.
He left the engine running and stepped over to her, his heavy brows and stubble flaked with snow. “Looks like you’re good to go.”
Her fingers itched to brush off the flakes, but instead she clapped, the sound muffled by her gloves. “My hero.” Again. Not that she’d ever divulged that pathetic childhood crush to him, and she surely didn’t plan to share it now. But, if the ache in her chest and the frantic flutter of her heart was any indication, maybe it hadn’t been so childish.
A lump bobbed along his throat. “Where you headed?”
“Home.”
“Still the same address?”
“Yeah.” Everything was still the same, including how she felt about him. But yet…she was different. She made her living off the ice now, instead of making dreams, and precious little Annabelle depended on her. She didn’t have time or energy for much else.
“How about if I lead the way? You can follow in my tracks.”
He was doing it again. Cradl
ing her heart in his tender palms.
“OK.” God help her, but she would follow him anywhere.
Didn’t he know that?
2
Conner slid the key into the lock of the skating rink and pushed the heavy door open, a dusty bag holding his gear slung over his shoulder. He still couldn’t believe he was here, or that he was actually considering getting out on the ice again. A sharp sensation stabbed at him, almost as if a knife plunged into his chest, and he stopped just inside the door to catch his breath.
As if finding his old skates tucked all the way in the back of his closet hadn’t been sign enough, Mr. Long, er, Pete, the same owner of the rink, had offered him free skating whenever. Pete had brought his truck in for service and mentioned the idea, zest lighting the old guy’s face, but Conner had just shrugged it off, claiming he was only in town temporarily. But then when the old guy came back in to pick up his truck, he’d dangled the rink’s key in front of Conner’s face. How could Conner resist such a generous offer? The only negative? Sharing the ice with a teacher and the students she worked with before and after school.
Pete had only chuckled, dismissing it with a wave of his hand and a mischievous glint shining from faded eyes.
No sweat. Just so long as they didn’t laugh at him when he slipped and fell on his sorry behind. He forced his rebellious legs to move farther into the rink, and slowed when voices echoed and blades slashed through ice. The cool air settled over him and he closed his eyes, breathing in the oddly comfortable scents of sweat, musty locker rooms, and leftover concession stand goodies.
One voice registered. His lids bolted up, and his heart stuttered. No. It couldn’t be, could it? Was Chaney the teacher that Pete had warned him about? No wonder the old guy had chuckled.