A Kiss for Christmas

by Melody Grace

  Ellie didn’t reply. She was sitting on the couch—and he realized she had a laptop open in her lap.

  “Hey, no work, you’re officially off-duty,” Dash scolded her.

  “You’re not.”

  Her words were brittle and ice cold, and they stopped him in his tracks. Then he realized, it wasn’t her computer she was looking at—it was his.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The camera zooms in on ALLY, twenty-two, a flame-haired siren with a secret sweetness.” Ellie’s voice was scathing. Accusing.

  Dash felt a chill.

  The words were familiar. He’d written them only a couple of days ago.

  She was reading his script.

  Chapter 9

  Ellie wished she could turn the clock back. To five minutes ago, when she was snuggled in bed, recovering from the best sex of her life. Or an hour, before she crossed the line with Dash and kissed him in the town square. Or, better yet, two days ago, to when he first walked into the inn and stopped her from toppling off that Christmas tree. Sure, it would have hurt like hell to hit the ground, but even a broken ankle and mild concussion would be better than the pain that was slicing through her chest as she realized what a fool she’d been.

  He’d been using her all along.

  “Wait.” Dash froze in the doorway, taking in the scene. “I can explain.”

  But the guilty look on his face said it all.

  She swallowed back the lump already in her throat. She should never have opened his laptop, but she’d been so excited to see what he’d been writing. It was right there on the coffee table, waiting to be read, and she couldn’t resist taking a peek.

  That had been her first mistake.

  No, her second, she corrected herself bitterly. The first was trusting him at all.

  “Explain what?” Ellie tried to keep calm, but betrayal was crashing through her, the sick, empty feeling like she’d leapt off a cliff—and was plunging straight towards solid ground. “That you’ve been watching me, judging me, and all so you can use me in your script?”

  Dash looked nervous as hell. “It’s not like that,” he protested. “I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t help it. You inspired me!”

  “Inspired…” she echoed in disbelief. She turned to the screen and read aloud. “Ally has big dreams, but is too scared to follow through. She likes to feel needed, and isn’t strong enough to risk leaving that comfort behind.”

  The words echoed, a punch in the gut all over again. “Is that what you think of me?” Ellie asked quietly. “That I’m a coward? A needy, pathetic girl who won’t ever get it together?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Dash argued, shaking his head. “The girl in the script, she’s fiction, a character.”

  It hurt so much she couldn’t stand it. Ellie closed the laptop and stood, needing to get away from that computer screen. It didn’t help. Now that she’d read the pages, she couldn’t ever un-see them.

  “You just said I inspired you,” she told him, trying to get it straight. “Now she’s totally made up. So which one is it?”

  He took a breath, looking conflicted. Wary. “It’s…complicated,” Dash said slowly. “You were the inspiration, yes, but then I developed her to suit the story. I took some things, and made up others…I’m sorry,” he said quickly, moving closer. “It’s only a draft, you were never meant to see it!”

  “So this is my fault?” Ellie countered, folding her arms.

  “No.” Dash raked a hand through his hair, and the familiarity of the gesture sent a fresh shard of pain through her chest.

  She wanted to run her fingers through his hair again, to hold him close and feel his body move against her. She’d thought this was something special, something real, but she’d been wrong.

  He’d never cared about her, he was just using her for his work.

  And worse still, he thought she was a failure. Just a small-town girl who’d never amount to anything more. That character Ally was weak and indecisive, the things she was trying her hardest not to be. But it was like he’d taken Ellie’s worst fears and insecurities and zoomed in with devastating precision. Distilled them down into a few scathing lines like that was all that anyone needed to know about her.

  That was all she’d ever be.

  It took skill to do that, real talent to reduce a person to their most secret fears. Ellie would have been impressed if her heart wasn’t busy breaking in two.

  “Please, Ellie.” Dash took another step, his eyes pleading. “Can’t we just go back to before you saw that? I’ll explain about the script if you give me half a chance.”

  He looked so plaintive that she almost wavered. Maybe he had an explanation. Maybe she was reading this all wrong. Hope burned even through her pain, and she was almost ready to give him that chance, when he continued. “Most people would be flattered to be a muse. You’ll see, this is a good thing. I was completely blocked before I met you, and now I can’t stop writing!”

  He gave her a hopeful smile, but Ellie’s heart sank. He didn’t understand. She couldn’t believe he didn’t see what he’d done, what a betrayal this was. All he cared about was his own big Hollywood career, never mind who he was using along the way.

  “You’re writing about me when I told you I didn’t want that!” she exclaimed. “Remember, we were sitting right here in this room. I said, I couldn’t imagine anything worse. But you didn’t care—not about me, not about anything except your precious script!”

  There was silence. Dash looked stricken. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “And I didn’t mean to trust someone who would turn around and betray me, but here we are.”

  There was a hollow ache in her chest. Now that Ellie’s anger had faded, she just felt hurt and used—like a fool.

  There was a sudden noise from the kitchen—the whistle of the tea kettle. Dash moved to the door, but Ellie stopped him. “I’ll go.” She quickly turned and escaped to the kitchen.

  She took the kettle off the stove and inhaled a deep breath, trying to stay calm, to think about this rationally, but she couldn’t. It felt like Dash had been studying her under some microscope, picking her apart and analyzing her most personal details for his script. Was this the whole reason for him spending time with her? Was everything that happened between them a lie?

  Ellie looked around. There were two mugs set on the counter, waiting for tea. Dash must have set them out, ready to bring me breakfast in bed. The thoughtful gesture hit her straight in the chest. She swallowed back a sob. How had this fallen apart so soon? Ten minutes it took for the water to boil, that was all it took for the dream to shatter and reality to rear its ugly head again.

  She’d thought he was different.

  How wrong could a girl be?

  But this wasn’t the first time she’d believed a man really cared. It had happened before, with Ethan. He was using her too. She didn’t see that coming, and it turned out, she hadn’t learned her lesson yet. Why else would some big shot Hollywood director want to spend time with her?

  But even as the doubts and betrayal swirled in Ellie’s mind, she still couldn’t accept this was all a lie. The things they’d shared… He’d opened up to her. Surely that wasn’t just for show.

  She took another breath. There was still a chance they could save this. Still one last shot for him to make this right. Ellie slowly walked back out into the living room. He was still standing there, awkward in the middle of the room, looking too damn handsome in his underwear and her old robe.

  Dash looked at her, and his expression seemed sincere. “What can I do to fix this?” he asked. “Tell me, there has to be a way to take some kind of time-out, just rewind back to when things were good between us. I didn’t mean for this to fuck things up, you have to believe me.”

  “You can do one thing,” Ellie told him, feeling a strange calm take hold. “The script, I want you to delete it.”

  Dash gaped. “I can�
��t do that!”

  She paused. “Why not?”

  “Because… It’s due in a week, the studio’s waiting. And it’s good,” he insisted. “If you’ll just read the rest—”

  “There’s more?” Ellie interrupted.

  He stopped. Looked away. “I’m nearly finished,” he admitted. “And it’s good. The best thing I’ve ever written.”

  A chill settles over her. “So you’re using it for your movie. No matter what I say.”

  “Ellie,” he pleaded. “Please, just think about this. It’s not the big deal you’re making it out to be.”

  The sound of her name on his lips sounded wrong now somehow. Just that night, he’d groaned it aloud and she’d watched him come undone in her arms, but now it felt like they were strangers. Two people stranded on opposite sides of the room, with no way to bridge the divide.

  The space he put there.

  Ellie swallowed back tears. “It is a big deal—to me,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to be written about, but you’ve done it. And worse still is the version of me you’ve put on that page. That girl… I don’t like her. I don’t want to be her. And now she’s going to be up there on some movie screen for everyone to see, like that’s the truth.”

  “You’re not Ally,” Dash insisted, but she couldn’t believe a word he said anymore.

  “You won’t delete it?” she asked one final time. “Not even for me? Because I’m asking—begging you to?”

  There was a long pause. Too long. Dash’s expression was torn, but just the fact he was even considering keeping his script told Ellie everything she needed to know.

  She didn’t matter to him after all.

  “Get out.”

  Dash blinked. “What?”

  “I said, leave. Please.” She forced herself to stay calm, to bite back the tears that threaten to consume her. She couldn’t believe this hurt so much, that she felt so betrayed by a man she’d only just met, but nothing about the past two days had been normal.

  Right from the start, he’d made her feel something she’d never felt before. She should have known it would all end like this.

  “You can stay the night in your cabin,” Ellie continued, sounding calmer than she felt. “Then find somewhere else to finish out your trip. We’ll refund the difference. I’m sure rooms will open up now the festival is over.”

  “Ellie…” Dash closed the distance between them. He reaches for her, but she flinched away. If he puts his hands on her, she wouldn’t stay strong, she would fall apart, and she couldn’t give him the satisfaction—or more material for “Ally” and his script.

  “No,” Ellie managed to reply, turning away so he couldn’t see her cry. “You’ve made it clear, the only thing that matters to you is your script, so go find somewhere and finish it in peace. I don’t want you here in the morning, do you understand?”

  There was silence. She almost want him to stay, to fight, to take it back and show her that he cared. Then his voice came, low and defeated. “I’ll be gone, don’t worry.”

  She waited, holding her arms around herself—holding it all together. She heard him head down the hall to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes, then his footsteps returned.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His words lingered, but Ellie didn’t turn around; she waited until he was downstairs and out the front door—his shadow moving across the snow out the window—before she sank down on the couch and finally give in to tears.

  How could she have been so stupid? She’d known from the start that he would hurt her. Guys like him left, it’s what they did, but somehow with the snow and the carols and the chemistry between them, Ellie had let herself forget. She’d been swept along in the fantasy winter wonderland, caught up in him; She didn’t see the red warning flags.

  Danger: thin ice.

  Now it had all come crashing down. Ellie was still there, and Dash was gone.

  She saw something on the table: a memory stick drive Dash had left behind. The script. The stupid damn script. She picked it up and hurled it in the trash in one angry sweep.

  She knew she was right, that he’d used her and betrayed her, and wouldn’t make it right when she’d given him the chance. She was better off without a man like that.

  So why did Ellie feel like she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life?

  Chapter 10

  “Happy holidays!”

  The signs greeted Dash at JFK—in six different languages—but he was feeling anything but merry. He’d spent all night travelling: first the long drive from Sweetbriar to Boston, then a stand-by flight out to New York. Eight hours to feel like a complete worthless bastard, remembering the hurt look on Ellie’s face, and how she was trying so hard not to cry. It had haunted him the whole journey, lingering like a shadow of guilt and regret he just couldn’t shake. Now it was morning, and all he wanted to do was check into a hotel and sleep for three days straight.

  Drinking sounded good too.

  His cell rang as he was falling into a cab.

  “What’s up?” It was his buddy, Blake. “How’s the wilderness treating you?”

  “Change of plans,” Dash told him, then leaned forward to instruct the driver, “Manhattan. The Crosby Street Hotel, thanks.”

  “Wait, you’re in the city?” Blake snorted. “I knew you couldn’t hack that rustic place for long.”

  “I was hacking just fine,” Dash told him reluctantly as they drove away. “Until…” he stopped, feeling another tidal wave of guilt. “Well, there was this girl…”

  “Uh oh.” Blake must have heard the weight in Dash’s voice. “What did you do?”

  “Why do you think it was me that did something?”

  “Because you have a long history of fucking things up,” Blake said, blunt but good-natured. “I know you don’t mean to,” he added. “But the minute some girl doesn’t live up to being the main character in that movie in your head, you call it quits and move on.”

  His words cut, but Dash couldn’t deny there was truth in them too. “This is different.” He sighed. “I didn’t build her up to be some perfect dream girl, I knew all along she had flaws. That’s what made her so fascinating,” he explained. “I wrote sixty pages in two days flat. She was my muse!”

  “And how does she feel about that?”

  Trust Blake to cut right to the point.

  “Not so great,” Dash admitted, feeling worthless all over again. “When she found out, she flipped. Wanted me to delete the whole thing.”

  “And let me guess, you refused,” Blake finished for him.

  “It’s good,” Dash said, pained. “The best thing I’ve ever written.”

  “Then I guess that Oscar better be worth it,” Blake joked, then moved on like it was no big deal at all. “You going to be back for the holidays then? We’re having a get-together at our place, my brothers are coming out too, the whole family.”

  “Sounds good,” Dash replied dully.

  “OK, see you there. And Dash?” Blake paused. “Maybe this girl isn’t the one, you wouldn’t be walking away if she really meant something, but one day, you’re going to meet someone who is. Like I did with Zoey,” he added. “I was ready to quit the biggest movie of my career just to be with her, and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. I know your writing matters to you, I understand that. But some things are more important.”

  He said goodbye and hung up, but his words lingered.

  You wouldn’t be walking away if she really meant something…

  Ellie asked Dash to leave, she’d flat-out ordered him to go. He didn’t have a choice—did he?

  Dash tried to shake it off. It was easy for Blake to say that; he was riding high, an A-list star with Hollywood at his feet. But it was different for Dash, he still had something to prove. He didn’t want to be on the cover of magazines, or his name up there in lights. He wanted to make movies that changed people’s lives. Where you walked out of the theater feeling like you saw something in the world t
hat wasn’t there before. That script had come pouring out of Dash like nothing else, the way it did when you knew those words are meant to be. He could already tell this movie would be great. Career-defining, door-opening, the kind of movie that would take his career to a whole new level.

  And lose Ellie for good.

  There were no two ways about it: he couldn’t have both. If Dash turned in this script and moved ahead with the production, she would never forgive him. He wouldn’t ever be able to take it back, this character would be out there in movie theaters and live on for years in DVDs and old cable reruns, lasting evidence of the choice he made and what he’d chosen to give up. But if he deleted the draft and tried to cobble together something new, he would know his best work was in the garbage, and he might never produce something quite as good.

  Ellie or the movie. His career, or a chance at love.

  How was he supposed to pick?

  The cab driver met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Traffic, man,” he tutted, as they crawled along the airport road at a snail’s pace. “Heading home for the holidays?” he asked, friendly.

  “Something like that.”

  His folks were in England. He would have booked a trip, or flown them out to LA, but he was too busy with this deadline.

  “Best time of the year,” the cabbie continued cheerfully. “Got to be with the ones you love. Nothing like it.”

  “Uh huh,” Dash murmured, staring out of the window at the bleak winter view. The snow was piled in ugly slush on the side of the road, exhaust fumes clouding the air from all the cars honking and growling to get through. He thought of Sweetbriar Cove, the powdery snowfall and crisp air. Already, it felt too far away, like a scene in a movie he’d watched years ago and only vaguely remembered.

  But Ellie, he remembered too well. Those blue eyes, mischievous and teasing. Her sassy mouth, the cascade of silky blonde hair…

  And her body. Dash would remember the feel of her body against until the day his mind wasted away.

  She’s just a girl, he tried to tell himself. Blake was right. She wasn’t the one. When Dash met the right woman, he’d know. It would be easy, simple, no argument about it. And life with Ellie would be anything but simple. Hell, just a couple of days with her had turned his life upside down, scrambled Dash so badly that he couldn’t get her off his brain.