He ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, look. We both want good things, and arguing about who’s right and who’s wrong won’t help either of us.” She may not see the value of the wonderment a decorated town could bring to a kid, especially one whose circumstances were unfortunate, but they were getting nowhere fast. Ross needed to change strategies. “Truce?” He held out a hand. “If we’re going to work together on this, then we at least need to get along.”
She stared at his hand for several beats. Then she slowly reached out and gave it a quick decisive shake. When she tried to withdraw her hand, his fingers closed around her soft creamy skin.
No idea why he did that, but he couldn’t make his fingers let go.
An electric current skated up his arm.
Her big eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, he got lost in them.
“Can we be friends again, like we used to be?” His voice went gravely. Even though they were on opposite sides of an issue that he couldn’t … he wouldn’t allow himself to budge on, he did care enough about Kimberly to want her as a friend.
Her eyes widened and clouded over, her look not at all matching her words of disinterest or her attitude of avoiding him lately. She swayed toward him just a fraction, but it was enough for hope to spring to life again. For the briefest of moments, he thought she’d lean in and kiss him because her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue slipped through to trace the seam of her mouth.
He didn’t move.
Her gaze skimmed over his face. Dropped to his mouth. Lingered there for a long time.
“Kimberly,” he finally whispered.
A dull throb beat against his chest when she straightened and leaned away from him.
He released her hand.
“Um, sure,” she said. “Friends. Like we’ve always been.” She picked up her pad and clicked the pen open and closed several times. “We’ve got work to do, so let’s get to it.”
Two hours, three beers each, and a full pizza later, they had the framework to accomplish their task. Wasn’t going to be easy, but they could do it because he had the brawn and she had the brains.
She walked him to the door, and he pulled on his jacket.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning.” The zipper of his down jacket whizzed as he pulled it up to his neck. “Dress warm and wear snow boots.” He let one side of his mouth lift into a lopsided grin and pointed to her sequined boots. “Not those. They’re not made for breaking a trail through fresh snow.”
“Why would we be breaking a trail? I thought we were going to get a pine for the Wishing Tree?” Her mouth gaped.
“We are, but the best place to get a tree is pretty remote.” He pulled on his gloves.
“There are tons of trees for sale in front of the hardware store,” she insisted. “No trail breaking necessary.”
He pulled his knit winter cap on. “They’re not big enough for the park, and even if they were, they’d be too expensive. I know where we can get a big one free of charge.” He opened the door.
“But it’s just you and me. How will we get it back to town?” She followed him onto the landing.
He started down the stairs without looking back. “Let me worry about that. I’ll pick you up in the morning at eight AM sharp.”
She blew out a heavy breath. “I’ll be here at the office, waiting out front.”
He waved an okay over one shoulder. The tree was going to be a snap. Tamping down both his attraction to Kimberly, not to mention his frustration with her, weren’t going to be so easy.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Kimberly waited on the icy sidewalk outside her office for Ross to pick her up so they could find a Wishing Tree for the park. She pressed a ball point pen to the clipboard in her hand and checked off step one of their to-do list with sparkly purple ink.
The sooner they got to the end of the list the better. Once the last step was complete, they could both get back to their real responsibilities, which were a lot more important than silly decorations.
How she’d had the energy to pull herself out of a warm bed and get ready on time was beyond her. She’d sat up most of the night to work on Angelique’s brief and send out emails to charitable organizations that might help create a list of kids who could put their wishes on the tree.
Never mind that once Kimberly finally went to bed, she’d stared at the ceiling the rest of the night thinking of how Ross had accused her, again, of trying to rob Red River of a real Christmas. Of how he’d asked why their friendship had changed. Of how heat had pounded through her veins when she’d put her hand in his to shake on a truce, but then he’d held on longer than a platonic friendship called for.
Firm, but gentle. Professional, but sensual.
A shiver raced over her.
It was the cold winter temperatures.
It certainly was not the thought of him stroking the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.
Nopity, nope, nope.
That had no effect on her whatsoever.
She stuffed the clipboard under an arm and blew into her gloved hands. Frosty mist swirled into the air.
Where was that hunk of a man, anyway? She was freezing her ta-tas off. That was saying something because she’d been blessed with a sizable rack, if she did say so herself.
At that early hour on a Saturday morning, the streets of Red River were pretty empty. Besides a snow plow working its way in her direction, Main Street was quiet. Not even the ski lifts had opened yet, and the empty chairs swayed gently in the breeze. Rays of early morning sunshine peaked over the jagged mountain tops, making the fresh powder that had fallen overnight glisten like precious jewels.
If it weren’t for her teeth chattering and her limbs going numb, she might actually enjoy the peacefulness before the shops started to open and the town came to life.
Just about every shop on Main Street had decorated for Christmas on their own. Every window had a Christmas scene painted onto it, lights, and holiday trim in the windows. What difference would a few more decorations hanging on the street lamps, around the gazebo, and in the park make? Kimberly still didn’t see the reasoning behind it, or why Red River couldn’t go without Ms. Francine’s industrial sized balls.
Kimberly snorted, sending a cloud of frosty mist rushing into the air.
The snow plow drew closer, but the sound of a diesel engine coming from the other end of Main Street pierced through the plow’s swish, swish, swishing, and she stood on tippey-toes to see who it was. What looked like Ross’s heavy-duty work truck, that he used to tow some of the automobiles he worked on, puttered along, pulling a flatbed trailer in its wake.
Thank God he was finally on his way, but dang. If they were going to get a tree big enough to need a trailer and a winch, then they were likely going to need more muscle than just the two of them.
As he got closer, she could make out his squared jaw and aviator sunglasses through the front windshield.
She straightened her knit cap, smoothed a palm over her jacket. Then looked down her length at her color coordinated outfit and went stock-still.
Even her teeth stopped chattering.
Ross had told her to dress in snow gear. Her matching black winter pants, black faux fur-lined snow boots, black jacket with purple piping along the edges, black hat and gloves, black everything must’ve been a subconscious effort to win over the local business owners she planned to visit after they were done finding a tree. Half the town was angry at her, so she had to make a good impression when she walked into the shops along Main Street and asked them to support the Wishing Tree by taking a child’s wish for a gift and making it come true.
Her conservative wardrobe choice, which actually matched for a change, certainly wasn’t to dazzle Ross Armstrong.
Just as he pulled up next to the curb across the street and rolled down his window, the snow plow passed between them.
Icy slush sprayed all over her.
The shock of it caused her to haul in a
breath and hold it. Eyes closed, mouth hanging open, arms out.
The sound of the plow started to fade before she finally opened her eyes and looked down at the mess on her clothes.
“Are you okay?” He propped an elbow on the doorframe, the top half of his body leaning out of the open window.
She wiped a chunk of slush from under one eye and shook it off her fingers. “I’m perfect. A splash of icy snow is exactly how I prefer to start my day.”
One side of his mouth cocked up into a lazy smile. Even though he wore shades, she knew the humor that sparkled in his green eyes when he joked with her was there. “You didn’t hear the snow plow coming?”
Yes, she damn sure had heard it. In the background of her thoughts, that had been focused more on Ross and her absurdly coordinated clothing than on an approaching snow plow.
She brushed off the front of her jacket, the whiteish gray snow a stark contrast to her black gear. “I was deep in thought about our to-do list.” She dusted off her pants.
“Hop in and get out of the cold.” He watched her. “Normally, when I pick up a lady, I wouldn’t ask her to cross the street.” He hooked a thumb toward the trailer. “But I can’t be as chivalrous pulling this thing.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not one of your ladies, so you don’t have to worry about chivalry.”
His smile faded.
She jogged across the street and slid into the passenger seat. “I’m one of the guys. No chivalry needed.”
He rolled up his window, shifted gears, and pulled away from the curb. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’m a gentleman to women, whether I’m dating them or not.” He grabbed one of the two insulated tumblers from the console cupholders. “Sorry, I’m a few minutes late. I made fresh coffee for both of us.”
She took it and let the warm liquid slide down her throat. She made a refreshed sound, as though she was starring in a soda commercial. “Now, that’s the kind of chivalry I like. Thank you.” She went to take another drink.
In a flash, a big furry head popped over her shoulder from the back seat and licked a big, sloppy tongue up her cheek.
She screamed, plastering herself against the door. Coffee sloshed all over her clothes.
Oh, for God’s sake.
“Comet,” Ross scolded. He hooked a finger under the giant beast’s collar and pulled it away from her. “Sit.”
It whined and disappeared from between the front seats.
“Holy cow,” Kimberly breathed out, her head falling back against the seat. “I thought Cujo had me.” Her heart pounded against her ribcage.
“He’s a Golden Retriever mix I just rescued. He’s harmless.” Ross fumbled around in the console, then handed her a rag. “Sorry about the mess.”
She dabbed at the beads of coffee dotting her jacket, then wiped her cheek and peeked around the seat at the panting dog. “He’s wearing Christmas antlers.” Just like Max, the Grinch’s dog.
Ross lifted a shoulder. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Please tell me he already had that name when you rescued him.” Cleaned off, she took another drink of what was left of her coffee.
“He didn’t have a name.” Ross hesitated. “Comet seemed to fit since I got him so close to Christmas.” A muscle in his strong jaw twitched.
“Oh, my gawd.” She gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. “You’re one of those holiday freaks who lives for Christmas all year long, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer because he deserved to get as well as he gave for the Grinch antlers. “Do you play Christmas music in July?” When he didn’t respond, she fake-slugged him on the arm. “You do!”
“You’re gonna make me crash.” He pretended to swerve off the road because of the tap she delivered to his arm. “And I do not listen to Christmas carols in July. I wait until September at least.”
She snorted with satisfaction.
A silky, golden brow arched above the rim of his shades. “At least I’m not one of those freaks who wants nothing to do with the holiday season at all.” He reached for the stereo system on the dash, and a Christmas jingle filled the cab.
“Awww, you’re a Christmas sap,” she teased in a voice she usually reserved for Angelique’s darling little children. “That’s so cute.”
Because it was pretty adorable. And sweet. And sexy as hell.
He turned the music louder and started humming the tune.
“That was a compliment,” she yelled over the stereo.
“Right,” he said without lowering the volume. “Every man wants to be called cute.” He let out a sharp whistle and the dog’s head appeared between the seats. “Comet, give her a kiss.” He patted Kimberly’s shoulder.
“No—" A gigantic tongue left a trail of wetness across her cheek, and she pressed her back against the door, holding up the tumbler as a barrier to fend off the furry thing. “Okay, okay. I take it back. You’re not cute.”
“Down, Comet.” At Ross’s command, the dog stopped licking her but kept his big head between the front seats, with his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.
“Eww.” She picked up the rag, wiped her face, then wadded it into a ball and tossed it at Ross’s head.
“What?” He tried to sound innocent, but the corner of his mouth curved.
She shook her head. “I’m not used to dogs. Especially dogs with big slobbery tongues.”
“Cats?” he asked, yielding as the road leading out of Red River merged onto the highway.
“Nope.” She patted Comet’s head, then shooed him to the back seat before the big lug ended up in her lap.
“What kind of person doesn’t like pets or Christmas?” He used a playful tone, but his words still pricked at a hole in her heart that had never been filled. Likely, it never would be.
“The kind who grew up in foster homes and knows better than to get attached to things.”
His subtle, smart-assy smile slid away. “Oh.” He turned the music down. “I never knew that, Kimberly. How come you never told me?”
Why would she do that? “Because I don’t need your pity, so stop it. Your voice is dripping with it.”
“It’s called compassion, not pity.” Ross draped a hand over the steering wheel. “Of all the people I know, you’re the last one I’d pity.”
Well, hells bells. “Now I’m offended.”
“You shouldn’t be.” He shook his head. “That was a compliment. You don’t need pity. You’re so … competent and comfortable in your own skin.”
Her head snapped around to study him. For someone who rarely found herself at a loss for words or a witty comeback, she had nothin’. The awkward silence filling the cab was as thick as fresh hip-deep snow.
So she decided to lighten the mood. “Tell me what kind of guy goes ga-ga over Christmas?” She laugh-snorted. “I mean, you even named your dog after a selfish reindeer who likely bullied a less popular reindeer because of a shiny nose.”
Even with shades on, she could tell the look he shot her was wry.
Aaaaand the friendly banter was back.
“Fine,” she said. “Maybe Comet wasn’t a bully. Maybe Comet was one of the nice reindeer who wanted to let Rudolph join in the games.” Come to think of it, she was a lot like Rudolph. A misfit who tried to use her painful past as a motivator instead of an excuse.
When Ross didn’t respond, she said, “Okay, I’ll stop cracking jokes and be serious. I really want to know why you’re so crazy about Christmas.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”
“Sure, I do.” She leaned against the door and studied him. “I don’t meet a lot of guys who go all out for Christmas, so I’m curious.”
The muscle in his jaw tensed and didn’t release. Finally, he drew in a deep breath. “It’s a family tradition that my sister started a long time ago. Now I carry it on for her.”
Oh.
A family tradition.
Kimberly could picture it as clearly as she could see the snowy winter landscape thr
ough her window. Ross as a young boy with his family. Presents under a twinkling tree they were dying to unwrap. The aroma of a special meal wafting from the kitchen.
Kimberly had experienced exactly zero of that growing up, until she finally was taken under the wing of Angelique’s big Italian family when they’d met in law school. The loud Barbetta clan treated her like one of their own, but still, she’d never gotten over feeling like an outsider. An interloper.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she forced herself to swallow back the gravel in her mouth.
“That…” Her voice went croaky, and she cleared her throat. “That’s a good reason.” Any hint of the snark she and Ross usually volleyed back and forth was gone. Instead, her voice was almost a whisper. “Really, I’m sure your memories of the holidays with your family are lovely.”
Ross glanced at her and sighed. “Told you that you wouldn’t want to know. I figured it would make you sad … if you grew up in…”
He obviously didn’t know how to finish without making her feel worse.
She waved him off. Shook her head but couldn’t speak. She kept her mouth clamped shut for the rest of the drive and stared straight ahead. She could not let herself cry over not having family traditions. Not having holiday family traditions.
If that dam ever broke, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop the flood of emotions that would likely flow like a raging river. Those emotions ran so deep that they would surely pull her under and never let her surface for air.
Keeping them bottled up had been her coping mechanism while growing up. She’d just have to stuff a gigantic cork in the bottle, too, because she wasn’t going to let silly emotions from the past break her.
Ever.
Chapter Six
“No. Freaking. Way.” Kimberly clutched the oh shit bar over the passenger window of Ross’s truck as he pulled to a stop deep in the woods because the road—if one could really call it that—had ended. “When you pulled off the highway, I thought we were going to a tree farm to find a Wishing Tree.” Not to the flipping wilderness. “Where are we?”
It's In His Christmas Wish (A Red River Valley Novel Book 7) Page 5