by Taryn Quinn
I’d thought we were building something together. On the water, he’d opened up to me. He’d actually let me in. Was he embarrassed now? Remorseful that he’d showed vulnerability?
“I don’t know. I asked myself the same question. This was just a way to get through the holidays. I’m sorry you thought we were going to share our feelings and turn into a Hallmark movie. Never going to happen, Miss Kane.”
I wrenched my arm free. “What about today?”
“I took you into town to soften you up and hope for a hot Christmas Eve night.”
I hauled off and slapped him. My arm sang and my hand throbbed from the power of it. He turned his cheek, but he didn’t flinch. Through the flood of tears, I saw him give a small nod, but I was too upset to care about his reactions.
Not now.
I thought I’d seen through his Scrooge act.
I was so wrong.
I backed out of the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs. I stripped his sweater off and went right for the shower. It smelled of him. Nauseated, I bent at the waist and sucked in a few lungfuls of air. I pinned up my hair and scrubbed away his touch.
There would be no more tears. Only a vicious learning curve. I couldn’t save him. I hadn’t even really wanted to try, but then the dock…
I held my head up to the spray. The conversation at the dock had been more of a confessional about why he hated the holiday. It wasn’t an invitation for change. It was my fault for believing there was something brewing between us.
My fault for hoping at all.
This was exactly what I’d signed up for. Sex. Amazing sex that I was fairly certain I’d never find again, but it was just sex. At least for him. And anything approaching love was obviously one-sided.
My own.
I reached for a heated towel from his rack and tucked it around my chest as I gathered my few belongings from the bathroom. I trashed my ruined tights in the bathroom wastebasket and pulled on the leggings he’d bought for me. Part of me wanted to be petty and walk out with only what I came in with, but I wasn’t stupid.
I would need to find my own way back to the city. There was no way I’d stay under his roof now. Something had to be available in town. There were far too many ski lodges in the area to believe I had no options.
I spotted the bag from the little shop off the water and my stomach dropped. I took out the box and the little figurines I’d wanted to give him as a joke. The Grinch who changed with love in his heart. I’d romanticized Linc like the pathetic fool I was.
Dashing away tears, I set the onyx box on his dresser and set the little wooden figures beside it. He wasn’t worth the tears.
I layered everything I had at my disposal, including a pair of black dress socks I’d stolen from his drawers. Just as I was zipping my boot, I felt him in the room.
Well, just outside.
He stood just beyond the threshold with his arms crossed and his head down. “Joe’s waiting for you outside.”
I stood and pushed my hair back. “What? Why?”
“I called him to take you home. The plane is fueled and ready.”
I crossed my arms to match his. “No way. I will not ask him to fly me home on Christmas Day—Eve, whatever.” I resisted the urge to stomp my foot in frustration, but just barely. “I’ll just go into town and find a place for the night.”
“No, you’ll go with Joe. Period.”
The lord of the manor tone was not working for me. At all. “I don’t really care what you want.”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “He was heading to Boston to see his sister anyway. He’ll just make an extra stop.”
How very convenient. “At this time of night? I think not.”
“By the time you get to the airport and do the pre-flight checks, it’s only an extra hour early.”
“For you who has millions, sure.” I bit back the urge to make another snide comment about the fact that Joe saw fit to spend time with his family unlike Scrooge Murdock. I was tired and all I wanted to do was go home.
“Kay, please. Just do this for me.”
“Thank you.” My voice was raw, but there wasn’t a trace of tears. And for now, I took that as a win.
“I don’t want you to walk away thinking this was a mistake.”
I crossed the room and brushed past him. “I didn’t until just now.”
20
Scrooge
Explosions lit up the screen behind me as John McClane jumped from the roof of the Nakatomi building. Die Hard was my favorite Christmas movie. An action movie with a badass cop usually took me out of my personal miseries for a few hours. At least enough to get through the night. I had the entire box set for an all-night viewing party of one.
I knocked back three fingers of Macallan with a growling hiss. The frost on the window panes was getting a little blurry. No snow outside to worry about though.
No white Christmas—at least not new white.
The roads were nearly clear from the last storm, and the night was pitch black with a blanket of stars. Cold and crisp with far too much clarity for me.
She was home. Joe had texted me from Boston to let me know. Mel had picked her up. She knew how to take care of Kay, unlike me.
I’d started drinking the moment she walked out the door.
Pushing her away had been the right play. It was easier for me to do the walking before her. I wouldn’t have survived it. Sheridan had maimed me. The loss of the baby I thought we’d created had been the killing blow. The woman in the equation hadn’t hurt enough. Pain had blinded me for so long I couldn’t differentiate from the relationship and the baby.
It had nothing on two days with Kay.
“Fucking sap,” I growled and went back to the bottle. I’d passed out on the couch somewhere around dawn and woke to start a little day-drinking. That, in turn, had turn to an all-day alcoholic haze broken only by Bruce Willis’s angry cries for Holly.
I laughed as I sloshed a few inches of whisky into my glass. He had a Holly.
I had a Kandy.
Funny.
I dropped into my recliner and set my half empty glass on my chest. Bloodied and bruised, fucked up beyond all definition, and John stood there with his gun strapped to his back with packing tape.
All for the woman he loved.
I’d let mine walk out the door.
Fuck, I’d shoved her out the door.
“Stupid bastard,” I mumbled as the television faded and my glass tumbled.
I woke to a slamming sound. Was that my head? It felt like my head. I stood up and weaved. Christ, I might still be drunk.
I looked down at my shirt. A wide golden stain spread across my chest and under my arm. I sniffed and turned my head. Sweat and whisky—oh, yeah, that was pretty.
Another house shuddering thump came from the door.
“Fuck off!”
“Don’t make me kick in this door.”
The baritone was familiar. “Joe?”
“Who else would it be?”
“It’s not the twenty—fuck.” It most certainly was the twenty-sixth. Joe was back to pick my ass up. The store needed me. No matter how badly I wanted to say fuck off to Christmas—and the after Christmas returns—for another few days, I had responsibilities.
I gripped the back of my couch as I moved from the den into the living room. My cabin was an open floor plan and Joe’s steel-toed boot against the door reverberated through the damn house. I climbed the step to the foyer and opened the door. I held a hand up at the fiery ball of death in the sky. “You’re early.”
“No, I’m late.” He stomped his feet inside the door. “And you look like shit. Usually you’re at least sober by now.” He gave a sniff. “You smell like a distillery.”
“Yeah, well it was a rough one this year.”
“Go take a shower.”
“No lecture?”
“You wouldn’t remember it.”
The disgust in his voice reset the anger in my gut, as well a
s the hunger. I’m not sure I’d eaten since we got back from town on Christmas Eve. We’d dumped the bags and ended up in bed, and then she’d gone away.
Anger was exhausting. I’d drowned it out at least three times last night and twice after she left. Christmas Day was a blur, as it usually was, but this was even worse than how I’d reacted after Sheridan.
Then again, the first Christmas I’d mostly burned through anger. I’d chopped enough wood for an entire year before I cooled down. By then, I had work to keep me busy. I’d just shut everything out. It worked.
Until now.
Until her.
“Let me grab food and a shower.” I stopped in the kitchen to slap together a turkey sandwich. I inhaled it as I climbed the stairs two at a time. A bit clearer headed by the time I finished a shower, I was able to gather clothes together and toss them into the laundry. I had clothes here just for these instances. When I needed an escape—whether it was spring, summer, or the dead of winter—I was covered.
I glanced at myself in the mirror over my dresser and swore. No wonder Joe gave me shit when he walked in. I looked like I’d been on a ten-day bender.
I gripped the edge of the drawer and noticed it was open. I tucked back in a shirt and frowned at the black and pewter box. I hadn’t been back to my bedroom since she’d left. Even as drunk as I’d been, I couldn’t face the bed. Her cinnamon and vanilla scent clung to everything, including me.
I traced my thumb along the edge and opened it. The song was haunting and sad, the tones less tinny than a traditional music box. Music boxes meant little girls and pink ballerinas in my world, not this dark and heavy box.
The detail was gorgeous. Years of buying for retail had given me a good eye for most things. I closed it and the silence of the room seemed even louder. Beside it were two tiny figurines.
The Grinch.
One with the wide, sly grin of the childhood classic cartoon I remembered, and the other with his little dog and the softer side at the end of the story. I knew it well. I’d loved Christmas for far too long not to recognize it.
Not to mention the fact that the movie played in nearly every store I owned.
I bowed my head. She’d left them. There was no other explanation. When she’d had time to shop I didn’t know, but it was as obvious as a hammer to the forehead.
Not quite the Scrooge she called me on more than one occasion, but the meaning was clear.
The only question was if I was the before or the after in her mind?
Or was I a work-in-progress?
I fisted one of the figurines in my palm and stuffed it in my jeans before leaving the room. I rushed down the stairs and grabbed my jacket. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Joe’s eyebrow quirked. “Magic elixir in that shower, boss?”
“Shut up. Did you drive Miss Kane home?”
His eyes shuttered. “She wouldn’t allow me to.”
I nodded. “Sounds just like her. Stubborn and prideful.”
“Gee, who would that sound like?”
“Yeah, well, call me an asshole later. I need to make some plans.”
Joe gave me a rare smile. “I wouldn’t call you an asshole.”
“To my face.”
He opened the door. “I almost did today.”
I swallowed. “Yeah. With good reason. I missed a damn big clue and fucked things up royally.”
“Glad you figured it out. If you took too long, I was going to go after her.” And with that bombshell, Joe strode down the stairs and to the truck.
“You better be fucking kidding,” I shouted after him.
When Joe only closed his door and started the truck, I snarled and followed him. I climbed in and snapped my belt, saying nothing.
“Give me the death glare all you want.” Joe took the hard right down Everly Lane to the main road. “She’s too fucking smart and beautiful to be alone long.”
I couldn’t deny that fact, and two days ago, I’d been prepared to let her go. I pulled the figurine out of my jeans pocket and transferred it to my jacket. I certainly didn’t need to show it off to Joe. Not when I’d like to keep a shred of my pride intact.
A fucking Grinch figurine had turned me into a lovesick puppy.
Pathetic, but I sure as shit wasn’t letting her go. Even if she thought it was a good idea. My gut was in knots at the thought of her out there thinking I didn’t give a shit about her. Stupid pride and a healthy dose of idiot made for one of the biggest mistakes of my goddamn life.
“How about you drive faster and stop thinking about my woman?”
Joe’s beard fluttered a little. Asshole was laughing at me, but fucking let him. I had work to do and only a few days to do it.
I pulled out my phone to make a few notes until we got to the airport where I had a prayer of getting a signal on my phone. Joe performed the flight checks and I let him fly us back to the city. I didn’t have the concentration for flying today and it was far safer for me to keep working on my plan.
It might be my only hope.
21
Kay
I tapped the little dancing Santa ornament on the tree in my office. He let out a maniacal “ho, ho, ho!” before relaxing back into the sweet smile that made me buy the stupid thing in the first place. Now I wanted to take out the battery and toss it in the bottom of the ornament box.
“Kay?”
I turned toward Mel’s voice. She stuck her head around the doorway, the rest of her remaining outside. “What’s up?”
“They’re asking for you. It’s time for Santa to hand out gifts.”
I managed to swallow the cynical laugh bubbling up in my chest. We had our annual Christmas party on New Year’s Eve since it was the end of our season. By the end of the night, all the decorations were a mishmash of Santas with New Year’s glasses from Times Square.
I usually loved to be in the middle of it all. I’d even played Santa a time or two.
This year, I just wanted to be left alone.
“Who drew the short straw and had to get back into costume?”
Mel stepped into the doorway and I laughed for the first time in days. She had a huge pillow strapped under a belt and droopy red pants that were dragging on the floor.
“You look ridiculous.”
“Yeah, well, all you giants don’t give a girl much to work with. Is anyone under six feet in this company?”
I raised my hand.
She pointed at the red sparkly stilettos I was wearing. “No. Just…no.”
I shrugged. “I don’t have much chance to wear them unless it’s Valentine’s Day or Christmas.”
“I don’t even know how you walk in them.” Mel tugged up her pants so she could turn around without tripping on them. “Chop, chop, boss lady. Your minions await.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I toed the box of ornaments back under my desk. I normally didn’t take my tree down until after New Year’s, but I couldn’t look at it anymore this year. I just wanted to put things away and move on.
I tugged my red skirt down until the seams were straight and I wasn’t showing off too much thigh. Mel had convinced me to dress up to feel better and now I wished I’d gone for my wool pants, ugly Christmas sweater, and flats like I usually wore for our office party. I usually won ugliest sweater. I had a closet full of them.
It seemed that changing up everything about my holidays had been the wrong answer. I’d had Christmas with my mother and her new boyfriend—wait, fiancé. Yeah, that happened. Sweet God, I was in the twilight zone for sure. Holiday disaster take two. Well, for me it had been a disaster. My mother had fallen for the man she’d met on the cruise and was now engaged to.
In less than a week.
Like you’re any better?
I twisted the coil of my ponytail I’d pinned just under my ear. I wasn’t going to listen to that little voice of insanity. I was not in love with a man after knowing him three days. I simply was not.
Infatuated?
Yes, I could go with that, but love? No.
It was just crazy talk.
And I wasn’t a crazy person.
Well, maybe a little crazy since I was having a back and forth conversation with myself in my office—alone.
Crap. I probably was insane.
I slid my hand across my midriff and took a deep breath. I could do this. It was less than an hour before midnight and then I could return to my apartment with my suddenly too small bed with my dozen pillows and three different remotes. I’d also charged my Kindle for a binge read since I couldn’t concentrate long enough on the television.
I would get through this and then I’d be back to work. It might be a slower time of year for us at Kandy Kane Dreams, but we still had plenty of holidays coming up.
Like Valentine’s Day.
Maybe I could promote Mel to CEO of the company and I could forget about Valentine’s Day too.
And maybe I would win the lottery.
I marched down the hall as the revelers grew louder and the solace of my office becoming more and more alluring. A group of people were clustered around the Christmas tree.
“I call dibs on sitting on Santa’s lap!” The voice was female and thick with a Long Island accent.
I frowned. Since when did my accountant want to sit on Mel’s lap?
“Back off, Brenda. I called him first.” Donna’s voice rose over the din.
Him?
I pushed my way into the circle of women. Most of my employees were female, but there was a suspicious number of them converging on the tree. Even Cindy and Angela were vying for attention. They were usually too busy gossiping at the back of the room to care about anything at the Christmas party.
I caught Mel out of the corner of my eye, her hands flying as she spoke to a man. He had his back to me, but his shoulders were far too impressive to belong to any of my employees.
“Ma’am, if you put your hand on my ass again, we’re going to have words.”
“Linc?” My voice was little more than a whisper.
No.
No way.
“What if I want you to have words with me, Santa?”