“Does she always get it?”
“Almost always. She’s very successful at her job. You are, too. Which means you at least have that in common. So maybe you can quit giving her the death stare every time you see her.”
Marc studied him for several seconds with an unreadable expression, then said, “Jess told me Kelley raised you and your sisters from the time you were twelve.”
“That’s right.” He debated how much detail he should go into, but figured since this seemed a relatively safe topic, he might as well run with it. So he told Marc about his parents’ deaths, and how Kelley had quit college and been dumped by her fiancé. How she’d set aside her own life to raise three kids when she wasn’t much more than a kid herself.
He finished by saying, “She’s an incredible woman. I owe her a lot.”
Marc slowly nodded, clearly mulling over the tale. Finally he said, “Must have been hard.”
“It was. But we also had a lot of good times.”
“I didn’t know about her fiancé and all.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you’d take a few minutes to get to know us instead of writing us off as nothing more than ‘the competition’—and maybe smile once or twice while you’re at it—you’d figure out we’re not so bad.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“Maybe,” Eric conceded. “But I never wrote you off as the competition.” He grinned. “I wrote you off as a scowling jerk.”
Marc’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure if I’m amused or pissed off.”
“Why not go with amused?”
“I’m not sure I like you.”
“Yeah, well the jury’s still out on you, too.”
“Still, this last half hour is the first time I haven’t been tempted to toss you into a Dumpster,” Marc said, his tone musing.
“Ditto. Just to let you know, you’d have a hell of a time doing so.”
Marc nodded. “Figured as much.” What might have passed for a flash of an actual grin flickered across his features. “That’s why I like to hang with the brother posse when you’re around.”
“At the risk of taking a backward step here, it would take more than the four of
you to get rid of me. I’m not going anywhere.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Jess stand up. He glanced over, hoping the wedding talk had reached a friendly conclusion. One look at her pale face—dotted with twin flags of red on her cheeks, clenched hands and overbright eyes—disabused him of that notion. He was out of his chair in a flash and striding toward her.
“I can’t listen to this anymore,” he heard her say to her mother and Kelley as he approached, her voice low and unsteady. “I’m sick to death of this sniping, and neither of you listen to me anyway. What difference does it make that I’m the bride? Clearly none. So you two plan the wedding. I don’t care what color the napkins are. Invite six thousand people if that’s what you want. But I am not wearing that ridiculous dress.” She jabbed a shaky finger toward a glossy magazine photo depicting a woman wearing a huge poof of a white dress. “I’ll choose what I wear and if it turns out to be my flannel pajamas, then so be it.
“Bottom line is that I refuse to argue about any of this anymore. I’m done. And since I’m no longer involved in the wedding decisions, I’m going back to my cabin. And I suggest you all go home.”
“Jessica,” said Carol, her tone sharp. “You can’t just walk away like this.”
“I can and I am.” Her voice broke on the last two words, and Eric could tell she was seconds away from losing it. He reached out to touch her, but she stepped back, shaking her head and hugging her arms around herself. “I. Am. Done. As for the wedding—I’ll just show up at the church. Or, damn it, maybe I won’t.”
Without another word she turned on her heel and stalked from the lounge.
Chapter 4
Jessica heard Eric call after her, but instead of stopping she quickened her pace, all her thoughts focused on one thing.
Escape.
She needed to put as much distance between herself and her mother and Kelley before she completely fell apart.
Snatching her parka from the coat rack, she dashed outside without pausing to don the garment. A gust of snow-laden, frigid wind pelted her and she gasped at the sudden change in temperature. At least six inches of fresh snow lined the path and the bitter-cold air seemed to snatch the oxygen from her lungs. Without breaking her stride, she struggled into her coat and mittens and tried to calm her rapid, shallow breathing—the first warning sign of the anxiety attack she felt gripping her in its talons. Just relax. Breathe deep.
Damn it, she hated feeling like this. Out of control, her heart thumping so hard and fast she could hear the staccato beats echoing in her ears. Her throat tightening, her fingers tingling from her too-fast shallow breaths, the tension constricting her muscles, the shivering that had nothing to do with the cold. She’d suffered such attacks after her father died, when the grief had relentlessly choked her, but she hadn’t experienced one in several years. Until her engagement. Sadly, since then, she’d been forcibly reminded several times of exactly how they felt. Just like this. Like walls closing in on her and a mounting sense of being overwhelmed.
She needed to lie down, close her eyes until the feeling passed. She felt like a coward running out like that, leaving Eric to deal with the fallout, but, God, she just couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried to be diplomatic. Polite. But her mother was driving her insane. And whatever last nerve Mom wasn’t stomping on, Kelley trampled over. Sitting between them, she’d felt as if a big red bull’s-eye were painted on her. Her mother had been overbearing and rude, while Kelley’s manner was demanding and brusque. Maybe she would have been able to stomach the tension, endure the discussion—translation: argument—to its end if she hadn’t seen the wedding dress.
A half humorless laugh, half sob escaped her and she briefly squeezed her eyes shut, only to nearly stumble on the snowy path. The dress that her mother declared was perfect. Maybe—for some bride, somewhere, but absolutely not for her. That dress wasn’t just a no, it was a hell no. Naturally her mother had disagreed. And then informed her that she’d already ordered it—because it was soooo perfect.
That’s when all her pent-up anger had erupted like Vesuvius. If she hadn’t left she would have lashed out and said things she’d regret once her temper cooled. She’d learned the hard way that things said in anger could wound deeply. And they could never be unsaid.
The memory slammed into her—the stupid, typical argument between a fourteen-year-old know-it-all girl and her aggravated father over too much time spent on the phone and not enough on homework. Angry words shouted out of teenage rebellion. And two days later, with the argument and her resentment still simmering between them, a heart attack. Her father was gone in the blink of an eye. The last words spoken between them had been said in anger. Eleven years later the memory still tore at her.
And so she’d escaped the lounge. Before regrettable words could be spoken—although she’d left a few seconds too late. I’ll just show up at the church. Or, damn it, maybe I won’t.
The words had slipped out before she could stop them. She hadn’t meant them. Or had she? She couldn’t deny that at that moment, she had. Coward that she was, she hadn’t paused to look at Eric, but she’d sensed he’d gone perfectly still. And the same question that had plagued her for the last four months again raced through her mind: how in God’s name could she resolve this mess and still keep her relationships with both Eric and her family?
She saw the cabin in the distance through the thickly falling snow and with a sense of relief, she quickened her pace. When she reached the door, she turned and saw Eric’s bright red parka just now emerging from the lodge. Clearly he’d exchanged a few words with Mom, Marc and Kelley. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what those words were. Or what she’d say to him when he reached the cabin. She’d have less than ten minutes before he arrived to compose herself and she�
��d need every second of it.
As soon as she’d closed the door behind her, she yanked off her coat and let it fall to the floor. After jerking off her snow-encrusted boots, she immediately climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Shivering, she closed her eyes, tears leaking, unstoppable, from beneath their lids to slip down her chilled cheeks as she forced herself to empty her mind and concentrate on the slow, deep breathing exercises she’d learned after her father’s death.
After a few minutes the tension and tingling sensation started to ease from her limbs. Her throat felt less tight, her breathing more regulated. Another few minutes and the anxiousness passed, leaving weariness and relief in its wake. She’d just sat up when Eric opened the door.
The instant his serious and concern-filled blue gaze locked on hers, a fresh supply of tears welled in her eyes. Damn it, this was supposed to be a happy time. Looking forward to their future together. Not fraught with all this gut-wrenching stress and hair-yanking frustration. She wasn’t naive enough to believe their lives would be sunshine and roses all the time. But surely there shouldn’t always be dark clouds and crabgrass, either.
Without a word he closed and locked the door. Removed his parka and gloves, toed off his boots. Then walked to the bed. Sat next to her. And drew her into his arms.
She went willingly, gladly, savoring his strength, the solid feel of him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she burrowed her face into her favorite spot—the cozy nook where his neck and shoulder met, a place that usually felt deliciously warm but was now cool from the frigid weather. But one that still smelled delightfully of Eric—clean and masculine and him.
He pressed his lips against her hair and whispered, “You okay?”
Her throat closed, so she nodded. Then shook her head. Then shrugged. How could she explain how she felt when she wasn’t certain herself? The only thing she knew for certain was that she was exhausted.
His arms tightened around her, as if he feared she might otherwise slip away. And a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she would.
She wasn’t sure how long they remained that way, holding each other in silence, before she finally lifted her head and leaned back to look at him.
Before she could say a word, he cupped her cheek in his palm and brushed his thumb over her skin. “You’ve been crying.”
She attempted a smile, but knew it was a weak effort. “Oh, great. On top of everything else I’m puffy and blotchy.”
“You’re beautiful. And breaking my heart. I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“You didn’t see it—just the horrifying aftermath. And I didn’t really cry. It was just a case of freakishly leaking eyeballs.”
He didn’t crack even the slightest grin at her feeble attempt at humor. “You want to tell me what happened?”
She blew out a long sigh. “The usual—arguments, nastiness, tension. My mother and Kelley didn’t provide you with the gory details?”
“I didn’t ask for them. Instead I told them in no uncertain terms that I was as sick and tired of this as you were. That I wanted them to go home, leave us alone and not make any attempt to contact us before Tuesday unless there was a true emergency—one that involved hospitals and blood.”
A humorless sound escaped her. “Hopefully Mom won’t take that as an invite to check herself into the hospital for some ailment or another.”
“If she does, ten bucks says Kelley tries to beat her to the punch.”
She rested her hands against his chest, absorbing the thump of his heartbeat through his sweater. “I’m sorry I left like that, but I was just so…ugh. About to start screaming.” She related the painful details of the color and centerpiece and floral arrangements and menu and monogrammed versus not-monogrammed cocktail napkin debates.
“I just kept sipping my wine, praying for it to end,” she said, shaking her head. “And I was doing a damn good job of holding on to my patience until I saw the picture of that wedding gown, a gown, by the way, that my mother has already ordered for me.” She shuddered. “Did you see it?”
“The one that looked like something Little Bo Peep would wear?”
“Yes! Thank you! All I needed was a curved staff and every sheep within a five-hundred-mile radius would flock to me.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “I think Bo Peep also wore a frilly bonnet. And lacy bloomers that came down to her ankles.”
That dragged a slight smile from her. “Not helping. I told my mother that the only way I would wear that dress would be if she somehow managed to wrangle it onto my dead, lifeless body—and even then I’d probably resuscitate myself long enough to rip it off.”
“And that’s when the fight started?” he deadpanned.
A short huff of laughter escaped her. “Pretty much. Although it hadn’t been particularly pleasant before that.”
He brushed back a strand of her hair that she was sure looked matted and gross. “I’m sorry they came here, sorry I didn’t insist they leave immediately. Sorry they upset you. I guarantee they won’t be bothering us again before Tuesday.”
Right. But what about after Tuesday? The nightmare would just begin again. Even though she’d washed her hands of the wedding arrangements, she knew she hadn’t heard the last of it. And that in no way solved the resentment her family felt toward Eric.
Pushing those unsettling thoughts aside, she asked, “How did things go at the bar with Marc?”
“Better than at the wedding planning table.”
“Not a real high benchmark.”
“No, but I think we actually might have taken a small, tottering step forward. But then again, maybe not. He’s not an easy guy to read.”
“He never has been, especially not the last few months. I think there’s something bothering him.”
“Besides our engagement?”
“Yes, but he won’t talk about it. Which means it must involve a woman.”
“If so, he should watch out for that ‘what goes around comes around’ karma. It would serve him right if her family lived in Marble Falls and took an immediate dislike to him. But I’ve got my own problems without worrying about his.” His expression turned serious and his gaze searched her face. “What you said before you walked out, about maybe not showing up at the church…was that just something that shot out in anger or did you mean it?”
A denial rushed into her throat, but she pressed her lips together to contain it. Because this was too important to simply offer him a placating answer. Because this was one of the reasons they’d come here—to talk about the state of their relationship.
At her hesitation, a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Well, that’s the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.”
“Eric…I—”
Her words cut off when he stood and paced in front of her. Then he turned toward her and dragged his hands down his face. “You’re having second thoughts.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement made in a raw, hoarse voice that sounded ripped from his throat.
She rose and framed his face between her hands. “Not about my feelings for you.”
“Just about marrying me.”
“No, but…” She released a long sigh and lowered her hands. “I’ve now reached a whole new level of exhaustion, Eric. Do you know how many arguments we had during the entire six months we dated before getting engaged?”
He considered for several seconds. “No. Other than a few disagreements while figuring out our work situations, did we have any?”
“I can only recall two. Both of them silly misunderstandings, quickly resolved and completely forgettable. The rest of the time, it was…magic.” Yes, romantic evenings filled with conversation and laughter that melted into sultry, sensual nights of discovery and exploration. Ice-skating and walks in the snow when they’d first met last winter had bloomed into springtime hikes and quiet evenings at home. Then summer, with private indoor and outdoor picnics. But then came the end of summer and Eric’s proposal and the sta
rt of their current situation.
“I’ve lost count of the number of arguments since our engagement,” she continued quietly. “I feel like I spend all my time fighting. If not with my mother, then with one or more of my brothers, or with you. I like peace. Quiet. Managing Hayden’s is stressful enough—I can’t handle having my personal life fraught with constant turmoil. I’ve never considered myself a quitter, but I’m just so damn tired of fighting.”
He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a quick, hard kiss against her palm. “Then let’s stop fighting.”
“Based on the last four miserable months—which seem to grow more miserable by the day—easier said than done.”
“No, it’s not. We just need to stop fighting each other. If there’s fighting to be done, let’s do it together—for each other. Our families are causing the tension. It can’t touch us if we don’t let it.”
“A great theory, and one we’ve discussed before. But as these last four months have proven, it’s difficult to ignore one’s family. Especially when you work with them. And live only a few miles away from them. And when they show up during your get-away-from-them weekend.”
“Difficult, definitely. But not impossible. And they’re gone now.” He took her other hand then pressed her palms against his chest. “I love you, Jess. So damn much. Nothing…nothing is as important to me as you. You know that…don’t you?”
She blinked back the tears burning behind her eyes at his words and nodded. “It’s just that I’m so…disappointed.”
“In me?”
She shook her head. “No. In this whole situation. In how badly it’s turned out. I always imagined this one big, happy family scenario—gatherings, holidays, cookouts. And instead it’s one big unhappy mess.”
“As long as you and I aren’t a mess, that’s all that matters, Jess. Your mother and Kelley will just have to fight it out without us. After the wedding, everything will settle down.”
A Blazing Little Christmas Page 4