Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research

by Crista McHugh

  The silence was beautiful, and she’d returned to exploring RJ’s second home.

  A faux fur, black bearskin rug covered the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace. The plush-looking rug invited one to sprawl in a luxurious fashion.

  As she considered removing her socks and curling her bare toes into the softness, the thought popped into her head that the rug was purposely big enough for two. She pulled her eyes away from the inviting rug, tried not to think about how often the cabin owner might have used the rug, in amorous ways, and continued her admiration of the furnishing.

  Table lamps of bronze, retro-style skiers, and softly lit sconces on the walls provided a romantic, golden light. An antique cabinet held the sound system for the large flat-screen television mounted on the wall above. Another antique near the kitchen held a full bar.

  Upon her arrival, the cabin air felt chilled, so she’d kept her ski hat on and a down vest while baseboard heaters and the fireplace worked to warm the room. Keeping busy helped, as well.

  She unpacked the small box of Christmas ornaments and boxes of lights she had brought. She arranged the ornaments on the fireplace mantle and added a string of golden Christmas lights. She looked around for the best place to hang the second string of lights. The difficulty was in finding a wall outlet close enough to any suitable hanging place. Then her eyes fell on the shallow glass bowl on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. She pulled it out to set on top of the antique sideboard against the wall and dumped the tangle of lights into the bowl. The end of the lights was just the right length to reach the nearby outlet. And, voila! The room now glowed with lights.

  Feeling satisfied that she’d created enough Christmas magic to make her holiday bright, she sank onto the sofa and pulled one of the soft, cream-colored knit throws across her lap. The cabin leaned more toward a masculine theme, yet here on the sofa were a pair of needlepoint pillows that completely surprised her. The floral designs were handmade and skillfully done. Not something she imagined Brandy would take the time to do. Perhaps a girlfriend from Christmases past?

  Fifteen minutes later, with her feet propped on the leather ottoman, staring at the flames in the fireplace between her sock-clad feet, and the near-empty hot chocolate mug cooled off in her hands, the isolation began to lose its appeal.

  She grabbed up her phone and wasn’t too surprised to see how many times that her mother had called. Nor how many times Brian had called. What she hadn’t expected to see was RJ’s number on the call log. That was odd. If he was with Brandy on this special evening, why call her?

  It was so tempting to call him back. But the message at the top of her phone displayed that there was no cellular service at present. RJ had warned her that the service was hit-and-miss in the foothills. She wasn’t about to plug the rotary phone back in, just in case the caller was Brandy with a warning to stay away from her man. She tossed the cell phone onto the side table and thought about what she should have for her Christmas Eve dinner.

  Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps on the front steps. Her imagination went into overdrive.

  Her mother’s fear, that she’d been kidnapped by the Bad Santa filled her head. What if that was about to happen? Her heart stopped in her throat as someone inserted a key into the lock!

  She jumped to her feet, stifling a scream as the front door swept open and cold air and snow billowed into the room, momentarily disguising the figure on the threshold.

  * * * *

  A hatless RJ stomped the snow off his hiking boots, then stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

  “Why the hell are you not answering your cell phone or the cabin phone?” he demanded.

  Snow clung to his black ski jacket, jeans, and hiking boots. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and held a flashlight in his hand. His face and hands were red from the cold.

  She stared at her neighbor, not believing that he was here and not home with his girlfriend. Or maybe that would be too good to be true. Claire leaned sideways just enough to see if anyone stood behind him. Whew! The coast was clear. No teeth-bared, Brandy-warrior in sight.

  Claire slowly began to recover from her fright.

  “Holy, freak’n eggnog! What’s with scaring me like that?” She gestured toward the hot chocolate down the front of her down vest. “Look what you made me do!”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I tried to call and warn you that I was on my way.” RJ shrugged off the gym bag she’d seen him tote around before. He dropped it onto the bench that ran along the wall between the door and the staircase.

  His ski jacket went on the coat hook next to hers. His boots went next to hers, as well.

  Looking like he belonged in this cabin in his jeans and forest green, flannel shirt, with gray T-shirt beneath, RJ rubbed his hands together, briskly, and headed for the galley kitchen.

  “I need something to warm me up. How does a coffee nudge sound? Nice pajamas, by the way.” He grinned.

  The cabin owner was no stranger to his kitchen. He went about plugging in the coffee maker and searching in the liquor cabinet to pull out an assortment of bottles.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, shaking her head in attempt to clear some of the confusion she was feeling. “Did I get the dates mixed up? Am I not supposed to be here?” Then a bad thought entered her mind. Just because Brandy wasn’t glued to his side at present, didn’t mean she wasn’t in the vicinity. Claire listened hard for the sound of complaining coming from out on the porch. “Please tell me that Brandy isn’t about to come through that door?”

  With his head in the pantry, she could barely hear his muffled reply. “No Brandy. I can promise you that.”

  “No brandy for the coffee nudges or no girlfriend-Brandy?”

  He came out of the pantry with his arms loaded. “No girlfriend-Brandy. Got plenty of the good kind, I mean, the other kind.”

  She joined him in the kitchen and began to wipe the spilled hot chocolate from the front of her vest, using a wetted dishtowel. “What happened?” she said.

  RJ put coffee grounds into the coffee maker and handed her the glass carafe to fill at the sink. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought that you were going to spend Christmas Eve with your girlfriend.”

  His back was to her as he worked a can opener. She peered around his shoulder to see an assortment of items assembled on the granite countertop. There was a box of saltine crackers, a jar of dill pickles, and a jar of green olives. There was also a large tin can of tuna fish and several flat rectangular tins of smoked oysters.

  “Are you just a bit hungry?” she asked.

  “Starved. I left town unexpectedly and haven’t had dinner, yet.”

  She poured the carafe of water into the coffee maker and pressed the start button.

  “See if there is a can of whipped cream in the refrigerator, will you?” RJ said. “And grab the mayonnaise while you’re at it.”

  She wasn’t sure what to ask about first. His leaving town unexpectedly, or why he wasn’t with Brandy. Or maybe they were related.

  “So…what happened?” she asked, as she pulled the requested items from the refrigerator.

  RJ was slow in answering. “Well, it started with her idea of Christmas not being what I wanted.”

  “That’s why you’re here? To boot me out because you want the cabin, instead?”

  He busied himself opening the tin cans and jars, then mixing up the tuna fish and mayonnaise and then slicing dill pickles. She watched as he arranged on a large plate the crackers, the sliced pickles, a small bowl with the tuna mixture, a pile of green olives and another pile of smoked oysters.

  The coffee maker hissed as it finished its cycle. He pulled two mugs from a cupboard.

  “Can I help?” she offered.

  “I got this,” he said.

  He expertly prepared their coffee nudges with big dollops of whipped cream on top.

  “You grab those.” He nodded toward the hot drinks as he picked up the plate of food.

 
She followed him into the front room where they sat on the sofa facing the fireplace. RJ’s idea of snacks went on the cushion between them.

  “RJ,” she said, trying again to get a straight answer from him. “What’s going on? If you’re not here to be with Brandy, then why are you here? Not that you can’t visit your own cabin.”

  He first settled in by leaning back against the sofa and propping his feet up on the ottoman.

  “Well, this is going to sound crazy.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I was leaving the gym and I saw the white van that looked like the one that had taken Rosco, Oregon plates and a dent on the passenger door.” He sipped on his hot beverage.

  “And?” She waited expectantly.

  “I followed him.”

  This surprised her. “Did you call the police?”

  “No time.”

  “RJ! That was a dangerous thing to do.” Then curiosity hit. “Well. What happened next?”

  “Just as I passed North Bend, there was an announcement on the radio that there was a manhunt underway for a Bad Santa in a white van with Oregon plates.” RJ’s face was lit with excitement. “I think it’s the same guy, Claire. This crook also takes dogs. I’m sure he has Rosco.”

  “My mom said something about a Santa robbing homes. He took presents and puppies.” Then she remembered the rest of the details her mom had shared. “One of those presents was a gun. He’s considered armed and dangerous! The very reason you should have just called the detective and not tried to follow the Bad Santa.”

  RJ had gone silent and looking a bit dejected.

  Then it occurred to her that he was here alone…and not with his dog. Her heart went out to him.

  “Does it go, without saying,” she began gently, that he hasn’t been caught, yet?”

  He shook his head. “I had to pull over to put on chains. By the time I was back on the road, I’d lost sight of him, even in the snail’s-pace traffic. The sheriff’s department was stopping cars on this side of the pass, still looking for the guy. He must have gotten through.”

  “Did you tell a deputy that you saw the white van with Oregon plates?”

  “I did. Gave them as much detail as I could, told them that he possibly has my dog.”

  She reached over and put a hand to his arm. “I’m sure they’ll catch him.” Then she remembered the sheriff vehicles in the parking lot and mentioned this to RJ.

  “They weren’t there when I arrived,” he said. “They may just be searching the area, believing that he pulled over due to the conditions. It’s dumping snow out there.”

  Claire tensed. “You mean, he could be around here?”

  “Could be.” This didn’t seem to bother RJ who munched on a cracker with tuna fish.

  “Did you lock the door?” She jumped up and ran over to the door to check. Satisfied that they were safe, her initial panic began to settle, followed by relief that she was not here alone.

  “Sorry to crash your holiday rebellion,” he said. “The sheriff’s department was ordering everyone off the road until the morning when conditions improve. I drove through Cle Elum, first, but there were no vacancies.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. This is your cabin.”

  RJ glanced to the rotary phone with the cord laying on the floor. “Well, that explains why you weren’t answering.”

  She glanced toward the dark windows where snow continued to fall. “I hope they catch him.”

  “Me, too.” He held up his mug for a toast. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

  She tapped her mug against his. “Merry Christmas Eve and here’s to finding Rosco.”

  His face held a touch of worry as he tried to smile in return. “First thing in the morning, I’ll dig my truck out and go try to find a sheriff deputy. Hopefully they’ll have good news.”

  “I’ll go with you,” she offered, although she couldn’t help but wonder what the chances were, that there’d be good news.

  The fire crackled cheerily and warmed the room. Although he looked to be concerned for his dog, RJ looked like a man perfectly content to be nowhere else but here.

  She wasn’t so comfortable. She’d yet to break up with Brian and, although unplanned and for innocent reasons, here she was in a romantic and secluded cabin with a handsome man that she was attracted to, and one who wasn’t available, either. In her case, a highly dangerous situation.

  With her heart beating a rhythm faster than the clock over the mantle, she drained the last of the heavily imbrued, warm drink and curled back into the cushioned arm of the sofa. RJ hadn’t been stingy on the amount of alcohol he’d added to the coffee nudge, and she was beginning to relax.

  Winter brewed its snowy magic outside. Something else was at work in this secluded cabin, at least for her. Was it not but an hour ago that she thought the bearskin rug just wouldn’t be fun for one? Now look who was here.

  Chapter 4

  RJ had finished his beverage, ate some of his snack-makings, and some of the worry gradually receded from his face. He smiled at her in a way that had her wondering which of their drinks was more potent.

  Although he sat at an appropriate distance from a woman with a boyfriend, the lights were not turned down so low that she couldn’t detect a look of kindled interest in his eyes when he glanced her way.

  The alcohol in her coffee drink liberated her imagination and the speculation wheels began to turn as she tried to figure out what RJ might be thinking over there at his end of the sofa.

  He’d returned to gazing into the fire like a man with his thoughts to himself. Was he thinking of Rosco? Brandy? Or plotting on how to get his revenge on the man who’d stolen his dog, once he was caught?

  Her eyes fell on the needlepoint pillow. It was done in creams, browns, and blues, with a touch of red on the horse-drawn sleigh carrying a family toward a cabin in the woods. A scene that reminded her of one of her favorite holiday songs, Over the River and Through the Woods.

  Without taking his eyes from the fire, RJ reached out and plucked up the pillow to bring onto his lap. With his arms now folded over the pillow, as he held it against him, he smiled lazily at her. “Need another drink?”

  “Not just yet.” Her words came out a touch slurred.

  He didn’t’ seem to notice, and rested his head back against the sofa cushions. On his face he wore a hint of a smile like he was thinking of fond memories.

  Her eyes widened as a thought came to her.

  She’d already determined that Brandy wasn’t the needlepoint type. So, the pillow he held had to be made by another woman.

  Out of nowhere came the crazy thought that maybe RJ was an alphabet dater. What were the chances that the woman who had made the pillows had a name that began with an A? Like Allison. He was now dating a B. And since he couldn’t spend Christmas Eve with Brandy, for whatever reason he’d yet to share in detail, he was ready to move down to a C. Her pulse leaped. How convenient that his pursuit of the dog-napper had led him here to her, Claire with a C.

  On the flip-side of that, he could date in reverse and maybe the pillows were made by a Yvonne or a Zena. If that were the case, and he was already on a B for Brandy, that meant he’d already had a C.

  Okay. Scrap that thought.

  She didn’t like either version: not being a substitute - if he couldn’t have Brandy, nor being of no interest to him - because he’d already dated a C.

  Claire looked down at her coffee nudge. What exactly had he put in her drink?

  She slid a cautious glance toward RJ.

  If she didn’t find him so attractive, she might be less nervous and be better able to access the situation she was in. While another man was likely planning how this year’s proposal should go, she was alone in a cabin with a man she liked better. That just spelled trouble, the kind with mistletoe hanging over it.

  She jumped to her feet. “Can I get you something from the kitchen?” Without meeting his eye, she swept up the snack platter and exited to the safety
of the galley kitchen.

  Snow flurries beat against the window over the stainless-steel sink. The exterior Christmas lights surrounded the cabin in a holiday, golden glow. She gripped the edge of the sink and tried to get her head together.

  Didn’t work.

  She downed two full glasses of tinny-tasting tap water to dilute the alcohol in her system and stop her wild imagination. Alphabet dating? Where’d she come up with that?

  That aside, although RJ had let his guard down for a minute or two in the past, sending her a wink, or an admiring glance, tonight was different.

  Whether it was the seclude cabin, or something else, he wasn’t showing any of the usual reserved nature of a man with a girlfriend. Not at all.

  The vibes were different tonight.

  She wished that she could ignore these vibes and focus only on Brian. That would be the right thing to do, at least, until she’d officially ended their relationship.

  She washed the platter and her mug in the sink and set them to dry in the dish drain. Outside, dark-green pine trees were visible with their branches bending from their snow burden. So much snow had fallen that even the footprints up to the cabin were no longer visible.

  “Did you walk up from the parking lot?” she called out to RJ.

  “Yes,” he said. She heard him moving around in the other room. “Typically, I ride up on my snowmobile, but, since you didn’t want to use it, I let my neighbor know that it was available to borrow. He’s generally up here during the holidays. In return, he keeps me supplied with firewood. I’m assuming he’s up here, because it’s not in its parking space.”

  Claire knew that she was taking too long returning to the living room. She fussed with kitchen things that didn’t need fussing with; wiping down countertops and straightening the salt and pepper shakers next to the stove.

  “Cabernet or Merlot?” RJ appeared holding two bottles of wine.

  “Water.”

  “Water?” he laughed. “If you want water, check the pantry for bottled water. The tap water tastes lousy. While you’re at it, grab two wine goblets. You can have water in yours.” He winked.