A Blazing Little Christmas

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  His gaze shot toward the closed bathroom door then he swiveled around to face her. She stood near the door, her face flushed crimson. “You’re not alone,” he blurted out, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

  “Eric, listen. I…” She blew out a long breath and raked one hand through her tousled hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Actually, neither do I.” His sister was thirty-four years old—her love life certainly wasn’t any of his business. “Obviously I should have called first, but it never occurred to me you’d have company—”

  His words cut off when the bathroom door opened. A tall man, fully dressed—thank God—except for his boots, emerged and walked toward him.

  Eric actually felt his jaw drop. “Marc?”

  “Eric.” Jess’s brother treated him to his usual scowl as he walked by. Marc stopped next to Kelley and took her hand. There was nothing scowl-like about the look he bestowed on her. And Kelley, who gazed up at him, jeez, looked like she’d just swallowed a lightbulb.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Eric muttered, staring at them. “I thought you two couldn’t stand each other.”

  Marc turned and met Eric’s gaze. “Seems we can.”

  Apparently. Clearly those sparks he’d detected between them were the result of more than animosity. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Turns out we’ve had feelings building for each other for a few months,” Marc said.

  “But only discovered how deep they ran last night,” Kelley added.

  “Appears our feelings are stronger than either of us even suspected,” Marc said, his gaze steady on Eric’s. “You have a problem with that?”

  Eric’s gaze shifted to Kelley and his heart twisted at the light shining in her eyes. Shaking his head, he said, “As long as Kelley’s happy, that’s all that matters to me.” He hesitated then said to Marc, “You know your mother isn’t going to be happy about this.”

  “Probably not.” Marc shrugged. “She’ll just have to get over it.”

  Good luck with that. But it was just what Eric wanted to hear for Kelley’s sake. He narrowed his eyes. “You’d better be good to my sister, you big, scowling jerk.”

  Marc blinked, then his lips twitched. “Same goes.”

  Eric’s insides knotted tighter and before he could reply, Marc approached him. “I owe you the same courtesy you just showed me. I’m sorry I haven’t offered it sooner. As long as Jessica is happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

  He held out his hand. Eric studied it for several seconds, his stomach cramping with what he had to tell them. Damn. He didn’t want to mess up this peace offering, but what choice did he have? He shook Marc’s hand then drew a bracing breath. “Thanks. But there’s something I need to tell you. Both of you.”

  Chapter 8

  JESSICA HURRIED through the lobby, a beehive of activity in the center of which a smiling Helen Krause buzzed. She offered the woman a quick wave but didn’t pause, intent on getting back to the cabin as quickly as possible. Her breakfast with her mother had taken far longer than she’d anticipated—it was almost eleven o’clock. She’d hoped Eric might be waiting for her in the lounge or lobby, but she couldn’t blame him for not hanging around for four hours.

  An image of him, when he’d looked at her just before he left her outside the restaurant with her mom, flashed through her mind. She’d never seen such an expression on his face before. He’d clearly been extremely upset. As was she. But Eric had appeared almost dazed. Furious—like a volcano ready to erupt, yet somehow also looking as if he’d just lost his best friend.

  She’d wanted to talk to him, but she had to deal with her mother immediately. And now that she had, she needed to tell Eric about the compromise she and her mother had hammered out. And hope that he’d agree to it.

  She exited the lodge and struck out on the freshly shoveled path, a smile tugging at her lips at the sight of a family making snow angels and a group of shrieking teenagers in the throes of a snowball fight.

  She picked up her pace, her rapid breaths blowing vaporous puffs in the cold air. When she arrived at the cabin, she closed the door behind her and blinked against the sudden dimness, a stark contrast to the bright white glare of the snow. She was about to call Eric’s name when she made out his shape, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Sorry I took so long,” she said, quickly removing her coat then walking toward him. “Did you think I’d deserted…”

  Her words trailed off as she drew closer to him. He was leaning forward, his elbows braced on his spread thighs, his clenched hands hanging between his knees. He looked up at her as she approached him, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. He rose slowly, as if some great burden weighed him down and concern suffused her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, lightly grasping his arm.

  He stepped away from her touch, something he’d never done before, and uneasiness slithered down her spine. Obviously he was still very upset. Not that she blamed him. “We need to talk,” he said.

  Yes, they did. But the way he said those words, in that grave tone, and his somber expression, her uneasiness morphed into dread. Her intuition warned her she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear.

  Forcing a half smile, she said in the brightest voice she could muster, “Of course we do. I want to tell you about my extremely long conversation with my mother, although I’ll give you the condensed version—”

  “Jessica.”

  She stopped speaking at the sound of that single quiet word. He never called her Jessica. It was always Jess or sweetheart or some other endearment. She had to swallow to locate her suddenly missing voice. “Yes?”

  “The conversation with your mother isn’t what I need to talk to you about.” He nodded toward the chair by the fire. “Maybe you should sit down.”

  Her stomach plummeted to her feet. Sit down? Oh, God. Nobody was ever told to sit down because whatever was coming next was good. She shook her head. “I’d rather stand.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw and she wanted to reach out and touch him, but she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t move.

  “About what happened this morning at the lodge,” he began.

  A feeling akin to panic made her rush to say, “I know it was awful, but—”

  “It was worse than awful. It was…intolerable.” He looked away from her for several long seconds and when he looked back his eyes were filled with both sadness and regret. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “So sorry to have to say this, but I just can’t do this anymore.”

  Jessica tried to draw a breath, but it seemed as if his words had sucked all the oxygen from the room. She licked her dust-dry lips. “What do you mean by ‘this’?”

  “I mean the wedding. I can’t do it anymore. It’s over.”

  She didn’t need to worry any longer about the lack of oxygen in the room because her lungs seemed to have shut down, bringing her heart along with them. A deafening silence engulfed them and she stared at him, certain she must have misheard, but one look at his face told her she hadn’t. He was utterly serious. While she’d feared this moment might come, somehow, deep in her heart, she hadn’t truly believed it actually could.

  Her entire body started to tremble. “You can’t mean that,” she whispered. “I know it’s been difficult, but—”

  “But now it’s impossible,” he broke in. “We both know why we came here. The arguments, the stress, the problems were just getting to be too much. Well, this morning they became too much. I’m done.”

  Little black dots swam before her eyes and she had to lock her knees to remain upright. “I…see.” The anguished words were barely audible. Yet as soon as she uttered them she realized that, no, she didn’t see. Not at all. A kernel of anger sparked to life in her stalled heart, flaming brighter with each passing second until she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “So that’s it? It’s all over? Just like that?”

  To his credit, he loo
ked as ripped apart as she felt. “I’m sorry. But I hope we can—”

  “Can what? Stay friends?”

  He blinked then frowned. He opened his mouth to speak but she rushed on, tears flooding her eyes with each word. “How can you do this? Where’s the man who said he loved me more than anything? Who wanted nothing more than to be my husband? The father of our children? Who wanted to grow old with me?”

  His frown grew deeper. “He’s right here.” He leaned toward her and peered at her face. “Oh, crap, you’re crying.” He moved to the nightstand and ripped half a dozen tissues from the box there.

  With shaking fingers she swiped impatiently at the wetness coursing down her cheeks but the tears were instantly replaced by a new flood. God, how was it possible to hurt so much? She felt as if her heart were hemorrhaging. “You sound surprised,” she said, her voice trembling and bitter. “Did you think I’d turn cartwheels when you broke our engagement?”

  His tissue-laden hand froze halfway to her cheek and he stared. “What are you talking about?”

  She snatched the tissues from his hand and scrubbed at her eyes. Her diamond glimmered in the firelight and she squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight of the ring that had represented all her hopes and dreams.

  His hands cupped her wet face. “Jess, look at me. Sweetheart, please…”

  A sob caught in her throat. Great. Not only did he not want her anymore, but he was tossing out pity endearments. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her, his confused gaze intent on hers. “You think I’m breaking our engagement?”

  She blinked at the incredulous note in his voice. “Are…aren’t you?”

  “No! God, no. Never. No.” He peppered kisses all over her wet cheeks. “How could you possibly think that?”

  “Uh, I guess because you were saying things like ‘it’s over’ and ‘I’m done.’”

  He wrapped one strong arm around her waist and yanked her against him. With his other hand he dabbed at her tears. “I was talking about the wedding. Not us.” He cupped her cheek in his palm and looked deep into her eyes. “Jess…I love you so much. I would never give up on us. Ever.” There was no missing the hurt that flashed in his eyes. “I can’t believe you’d think I would leave you.”

  Her relief was so intense she felt light-headed. “I’m sorry. At first I couldn’t believe it. But you were so upset when we overheard my mother, and so serious now with your ‘we need to talk.’” She kissed him, once, hard, then leaned back to glare at him. “You could have made yourself clearer, you know.”

  “I thought I was being clear.”

  “Yeah—like mud.”

  “In my own defense, it never occurred to me you’d think I was dumping you.”

  She framed his face between her still-not-quite-steady hands. “As if you could.” She hiked up her chin. “I’m not an easy woman to dump.”

  “Sweetheart, it would be impossible. How could I live without my heart?”

  Her chin quivered. “Okay, that was a very romantic thing to say.”

  “And totally true. Ending our engagement never once crossed my mind.”

  “You scared me to death.”

  “I’m sorry.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Sorry I scared you, sorry I made you cry.” He raised his head and searched her eyes. “Forgive me?”

  “I suppose.” She sniffled. “But only if you promise never to frighten me like that again.”

  “Promise.” A glint of humor flickered in his eyes. “Good to know, though, that you’d have missed me.”

  “Ha. I wouldn’t have missed you one bit.”

  “Yeah, that’s obvious, Miss Waterworks,” he teased, gently blotting away the last remnants of her tears with the wad of tissues he pried from her fingers.

  “I wouldn’t have missed you because I wouldn’t have let you get away. I have silk scarves to tie you up with and I’m not afraid to use them.”

  He grinned. “You’ve been reading my letter to Santa again.” Then his expression sobered. “Jess, what I was trying to say about the wedding is that it’s caused nothing but problems, ones that seem to multiply no matter what we do. So let’s not do it.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I want to marry you, so I can spend the rest of my life with you. A fancy wedding doesn’t make a damn bit of

  difference to me. Saying vows to you does.” Clasping her hands in his, he dropped to one knee in front of her. “Jess, will you marry me? I mean marry me—not have a fancy wedding with me?”

  Another batch of tears rushed into her eyes. A half laugh, half cry rushed from her. “Yes. God, yes. Please, yes.” He stood and caught her up in his arms and spun her around until they were both laughing and breathless. And then he kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of love and happiness. After he lifted his head, she said, “This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I shared a very long and exhausting conversation with my mother, but it did us both a world of good. We cleared the air about a lot of things and after a lot of arguing, tears and finally some laughter, we came to an understanding.”

  “What’s that?”

  “First, that I love you and am going to marry you. If she doesn’t accept that, our mother-daughter relationship will be irreparably damaged. And second, that this is our wedding. Yours and mine. And that we’re going to plan something very small and intimate. That we might even decide to elope. Or jet off to Vegas. But we’re going to do what we want, when we want. I told her if she’d like to throw a party for us sometime afterward, that would be fine, but that I really thought she should save her money and take a nice singles cruise. Maybe she’d meet a nice man and could someday plan her own extravagant wedding.”

  “And she accepted that?”

  “It wasn’t an easy sell and she’s definitely disappointed since she’s been dreaming of my wedding for years. But in the end she finally realized that she needed to accept our decisions even though they might not be the ones she’d make. I made it extremely clear that there was to be no more interfering or manipulating. I don’t think she understood how bad she’d gotten, but I made her see the light and she apologized, as well as promised she’d try her best to do better. She really is a good mom. I honestly think she’s just lonely.”

  “So let me get this straight—you’d already decided that you didn’t want a big fancy wedding before I gave you my whole sales pitch?”

  She grinned at his grumpy tone. “Yup.” She looped her arms around his neck. “Great minds and all that.”

  “Great. So how would you feel about getting married here? Today? Now?”

  She blinked. “Now?”

  “Well, not right this minute, but in about—” he lifted his left arm and consulted his watch over her shoulder “—two hours?”

  She was about to laugh, but something in his eyes stilled her. “You’re serious.”

  “Extremely. When I realized I couldn’t take the fancy wedding thing any longer, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Those four hours you were with your mom? I spent them making arrangements.”

  A wave of cautious joy spread through her. “But we’re snowed in. How could you possibly make arrangements?”

  “You forget my very formidable wedding planner sister is here. Between me, her and Helen and Roland Krause, things are rolling right along. Apparently Timberline Lodge is a popular wedding ceremony spot.”

  “But who would perform the ceremony?”

  “Helen Krause. She’s an ordained minister.”

  “But we’d need our marriage license.”

  “It’s in my wallet—where I’ve kept it, safe and sound, since we got it two weeks ago.”

  Warmth spread through her. “So it looks like all systems are go.”

  “Yes. Well, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The bride-to-be hasn’t yet accepted my proposal. Will you marry me today?” He gently kissed her lips.

  The floodgates opened and happiness spilled through he
r. “Are you trying to get me to say yes?”

  “Absolutely. Is it working?”

  She smiled into his beautiful eyes. “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  At four o’clock that afternoon, Jessica looked up at the soaring Christmas tree in the lobby of the lodge. The surrounding area had been transformed into a beautiful, romantic chapel-like setting with swags of pine and holly and dozens of flickering white candles. The hint of vanilla and pine scented the air, and gentle violin music played in the background.

  A warm nuzzle to the back of her neck had her sucking in a quick breath. A pleasurable tingle shimmied down her spine and with a smile she turned.

  “Watch it there, mister,” she said with a mock frown. “My husband won’t take kindly to you kissing my neck.”

  He handed her a glass of champagne then touched the rim of his glass to hers. “Your husband is the luckiest guy on earth.”

  “His wife’s pretty lucky herself. Do you realize we’ve been married for almost two hours?”

  “Happy anniversary.”

  She laughed then heaved a contented sigh. “The ceremony was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Roland Krause had walked her down the short length of white carpet to Eric, who wore a dark suit, white dress shirt and red silk tie and greeted her with a dazzling smile. With Marc serving as best man and Kelley as maid of honor, and with her mother looking on, snapping dozens of pictures from the disposable cameras she’d purchased at the gift shop, Helen Krause performed the simple, lovely ceremony that joined her and Eric for life.

  “Beautiful,” he agreed, drawing her close with his free arm. “As is my bride.” His warm gaze skimmed over her simple winter-white dress. She’d brought it along—as Eric had his suit—in case they went out somewhere nice to dinner during their weekend away, never dreaming it would serve as her wedding dress.

  “You look pretty beautiful yourself,” she said. “Especially right here…” She kissed his lips, a gesture she’d meant to be quick and light, but he hauled her tighter against him and gave her a kiss that made her head spin.