“Do you want to leave?” he interrupted.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Ben—”
“Answer the question, Darcy. Do you want to leave?”
“I have a job and—”
“Not one you want,” he reminded her.
“And my family needs—”
“To mind their own business. They all have lives of their own and should respect you enough to let you live yours.”
Wow. He totally had a point there, and at any other time, she’d love that, but right now, it was confusing her.
“You’re working and—”
“I’m going to ask you this one more time,” Ben stated firmly. “Do you—”
“No! Okay? No, I don’t want to go! But you’re busy, and I don’t want to be in the way.”
He released her but then immediately took her by the hand and led her from the room. He led her to the back door and then handed her her coat.
“Ben…”
“Just follow me.”
So she did. Out to the workshop, and damn, it was cold. How did people live like this? The temperatures could get pretty low in North Carolina, but not like this. This almost wasn’t livable. It was like being in Antarctica or at the North Pole, for crying out loud. She almost wept with relief when they stepped into the workshop.
The first thing she noticed was that the deer bust was gone. After a minute, she saw it in the corner and that Ben had added some colored stain to it. If anything, it looked even more amazing. She was about to comment on it when Ben pulled her along to the far corner of the shop.
Sitting on a large swath of red silk was a small, intricately carved box.
Darcy looked at Ben questioningly.
“I was inspired the other day,” he said gruffly. “I was thinking about how you, more than anyone I’ve ever met, really understand my work. You look at it, and you don’t just see something that’s visually appealing. You look at it and understand all that goes into making that piece of art happen—my process, the hours of planning and carving and working.” He paused and squeezed her hand. “I thought about that deer bust and how my client will see it, and he’ll love it and he’ll gush, but he has no idea the hours I put into it. The cuts, the blisters, the sweat, the hours of sleep I lost. He won’t even think about those things.”
“But I would,” she said softly, understanding slowly dawning on her.
Ben nodded. “You would.” Turning, he let go of her hand and reached for the box. “I wanted to create something for you. Something you could have and use and…and know I did it for you. Only you.”
Tears instantly filled her eyes as she finally turned and looked at the box. It was small—maybe six inches square—but the details were amazing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben nod, so she reached out and took it from his hand. The wood was as smooth as the silk it had been resting on. And carved into the top was a winter scene, similar to what she saw out his back door from the deck. There was a lake and trees, and he’d used paint and stain to give hints of the snow on the ground and the reflection of it on the water.
Around the sides were probably a hundred different snowflakes. She ran her finger over each and every one of them, simply in awe of how this man had taken the time to create something so incredible, and yet it hadn’t taken him that long. She looked up at him. “How did you do this? You only started—”
His smile was slow and sweet. “Like I said, I was inspired. I started it after you left that first night. At the time, I didn’t realize why I felt the need to create something so delicate. But then yesterday, I thought of you, and this image came to mind. When that happens, I can work fairly quickly. Not that I was rushing it, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I forced myself to come inside last night. If I had been here alone, I probably would have stayed up all night working on it.”
She sighed. “And that’s what I’m trying to avoid, Ben. I don’t want to interfere with your process. I mean look at this!” She held the box up to him. “I can’t even believe that someone—you—made this with your bare hands. It doesn’t seem possible. And because of me, you did rush and you did stop.”
Taking the box from her hands, he put it back on the silk. “I wanted to stop. I needed to stop. I need to remember to take care of myself. And for the record, I hated that you went to sleep in the guest room last night. I thought we were past that.”
She gave him a bashful smile. “It didn’t seem right to be in your room without you.”
“I want you in my room. In my bed. The thought of finding you there waiting for me was the only thing spurring me home last night.”
Everything in her melted at his words and the huskiness of his tone.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered.
His hands—those wonderfully large, work-roughened hands—came up and cupped her face. “Good.”
At that moment, Darcy thought for sure Ben would kiss her, the kind of wild and uninhibited kiss that always turned her a little inside out. But he didn’t. Instead, he seemed to be studying her face, with his eyes as well as his hands.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
Darcy felt herself blush. She’d never seen herself that way. Ever. Her initial reaction was to tell him he was crazy, but she didn’t. Something was happening here. Everything suddenly felt different and yet incredibly familiar. She whispered his name but didn’t know what else to say.
Ben took a step back, reached for the box, and handed it back to her. “Open it.”
Intrigued, she did as he asked and gasped softly. The inside was lined with the red silk he had on the table. There was some sort of padding beneath it to cushion what he’d placed there.
A Christmas ornament. A wooden snowflake that matched the style of the ones on the outside of the box.
“Oh, Ben,” she said with awe as she placed the box on the table and picked up the ornament. “It’s beautiful.” In actuality, it was stunningly fragile. So much so that Darcy was almost afraid to handle it at all. “I love it.”
That seemed to please him more than anything. “My original idea was to do a jewelry box. But as I was working on it, I had an idea about the ornament and thought it would fit nicely inside and could stand as a gift box. Of course, you could use it for whatever you want,” he added quickly.
“This snowflake is so delicate that I think this box is the safest place for it.” She smiled up at him. “And I want you to know, I sort of have a bit of an obsession with Christmas, as you’ve probably figured out, but particularly Christmas ornaments.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “I do. I’ve been collecting them for years.”
Now it was his turn to smile. “What kind do you collect?”
“All kinds. When I travel, I always find a shop that sells ornaments. So I have a decent collection of ornaments from my travels. And I love snowmen, so whenever I see a cute snowman ornament, I buy it.”
“How big is the family Christmas tree?” he asked with a small laugh.
“Oh, I haven’t put any of them on the family tree. My dad is a stickler about the ornaments on that one. I have a little artificial tree that I set up in my bedroom and hang all my ornaments on.” She shrugged. “It’s only about three feet tall, but it’s getting full.”
He nodded.
“Anyway, the family Christmas tree is overflowing already with personalized ornaments of six kids and six grandkids. Plus, I’m a little protective of my collection,” she added sassily. “And I’m going to be particularly protective of my newest addition.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said gruffly.
Gently, Darcy put the ornament in the box and put the lid on. How was it possible that Ben could know her so wel
l? They’d never talked about her love of Christmas ornaments.
But it wasn’t just the ornament. It was everything. There was a bond forming between them that ran deep, and yet she felt as if they’d just begun to scratch the surface. The thought of leaving him—even to go home to her family whom she loved more than anything—felt wrong. There was still so much here. How could she just let that go?
Tears stung her eyes. That was another thing that was becoming overwhelming to her—her emotions. She normally only seemed to have two—happy or pissed off. But Ben had her feeling myriad emotions that she had no idea how to handle. Maybe he wanted to get some more work done here in the workshop, and she could have some time at the house to get herself together. But when she allowed herself to turn and look at him, she couldn’t hold back what was on her mind at that exact moment.
“I need you.”
That slow and sexy smile returned. Taking her hand in his, he replied, “I’m yours.”
* * *
For four more days, life was idyllic. There had been another small round of snow, but it had only ensured that Darcy couldn’t leave just yet. Ben couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so free. Even before his parents’ death, he had been serious and more closed off than the rest of his family. After his parents had died, he knew he had gotten worse. His brothers reminded him of it often enough, but it wasn’t something he’d ever thought he could change.
And then Darcy Shaughnessy had walked into his life.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he looked over to where she stood at the kitchen island stirring some batter. There were enough sweets and baked goods in the house to last him through the winter, and yet she kept baking. She had gone through his basic baking ingredients and had moved on to getting creative.
The results weren’t always good.
Just yesterday, she had come up with three new recipes, and they had waited until after dinner to try them and decide if they were keepers. She had been so excited about the experiment, telling him she had done some research on the use of different spices in cookies and that her first foray into using them included some spicy ones—chili powder, jalapeños, and garlic. Even now, he had to suppress a shudder at the garlic ones, but the other two had been fairly decent.
Either way, it made her happy, so Ben was happy. And as long as they could stay in this little cocoon they’d created, he knew he would stay that way.
He wondered what she planned on baking today. Right now, he smelled bacon, and he hoped it had something to do with lunch and not cookies. After the bourbon cookie disaster the other night, he hoped she’d moved on from that combination. Then he chuckled, because he knew that no matter what, he’d be a good sport and try them and then distract her from making any more for a while.
The idea definitely had merit.
Unfortunately, all good things usually come to an end. It came in the form of a phone call from his brother Jack.
Darcy looked at him as his cell phone rang and clearly saw his frown. “You okay?”
Nodding, Ben stood. “I have to take this. Excuse me.” He waited until he was in his office before he answered. “Hey, Jack. What’s up?”
“Hey! I was calling to see how you were doing. I caught the news of your snowstorm.”
Ben shared with him all the stats about the storm. “Plows are finally coming around, but the temps aren’t budging, so everything’s still pretty much frozen.”
“Were you prepared for it? All stocked up?”
“What do you think?” Ben teased.
Jack laughed. “I know, I know. You’re always prepared. Nothing takes you by surprise.”
If he only knew, Ben thought. “So what about you? How are you doing? How’s the job going?”
“If all goes as planned, I’ll make junior partner by Christmas,” Jack replied proudly. “And I’ll be the youngest one in the firm’s history.”
“That’s awesome, Jack! Congratulations!”
“Yeah, well, I know it’s not a glamorous job—it’s just accounting—but I’m pretty psyched about the whole thing.”
“You should be. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Ben. Really. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.”
Ben hated when they had this conversation. He didn’t want his brother’s gratitude. Helping him finish school was something his parents would have wanted. And he didn’t want to keep rehashing it.
“Nonsense. You got yourself there with hard work and good grades,” Ben said dismissively. “Have you heard from Henry lately?”
“I talked to him last night. We talked about having Christmas here in Boston this year. Donna and I want to host it, since it’s our first one together, and Henry’s on board. He has a week off, and he’s going to spend it here with us. We were hoping you’d do the same.”
Shit.
He sighed wearily as he shifted in his chair. “Jack, we’ve been over this.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. But it’s enough, Ben. Seriously. We all understood in the beginning, but enough time has gone by, and…man, don’t make me say it.”
Ben raked a hand through his hair. “Say what?”
“They would hate this. They’d be so disappointed in you,” Jack said, but there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his voice. “You can’t spend your whole damn life on that mountain. You work all the time. You don’t go out, you don’t socialize. Hell, when was the last time you even got laid?”
“Look, Christmas isn’t important to me, Jack. And you know what? It’s not a crime. And for your information, as soon as I’m done with the two commissions I’m working on, I plan on taking a lengthy vacation and doing some traveling.”
“Great! Travel your ass here to Boston.”
Damn. He’d stepped right into that one. “Gladly. Just not for Christmas. I promise to come in January or maybe February.”
“Come on,” Jack said with disgust. “You’re going to pull the same crap you do every year. You say you’ll come, but then something comes up—a client, a project, a storm. Dude, I’ve been living here for almost three years, and you haven’t come to see me once.”
“Don’t even,” Ben snapped. “We saw each other three months ago, so don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’d like you to see my home. I’d like you to meet my friends. It’s not that much to ask.”
“I can’t help that my work sometimes gets in the way!”
“Maybe we’ll hop on a plane and come to you for Christmas, and you can host,” Jack said sarcastically. “Then what would you do?”
“I imagine I’d have to sit here and look at your disappointed faces, because there won’t be a tree or a big Christmas goose or whatever the hell it is you make.”
“Come on, Ben.” Jack sighed. “Why?”
“Listen, I have to go. Thanks for checking on me, and I’ll give you a call next week.” He hated being pushed into a corner.
“Fine,” Jack said after a long pause. “We’ll talk next week.”
They said their goodbyes, and Ben had to fight the urge to throw his phone out of frustration. How many times were they going to beat this subject to death? Why couldn’t his brothers accept that he wasn’t going to join in the holiday festivities? He shouldn’t have to keep explaining himself time and time again.
And it pissed him off to no end that his brothers were able to move on. Didn’t they miss their parents? Didn’t their loss mean anything to them? Why was he the only one still grieving?
Above him, he could hear Darcy’s footsteps, and he sighed.
Her constant chatter about the wonders of Christmas were starting to get to him too. Not that she was changing his mind or anything, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he exploded on her—like he’d just done to his brother—about all the reasons why Christmas sucked. No doubt he’d yell, she’d yell, and then
she’d look at him with disappointment and possibly disgust. But what was he supposed to do? There was no way he could pretend to give a damn about the holiday when he didn’t. There was no Christmas joy anymore. All that was left was a gaping hole in his life where his parents used to be. How could he ever celebrate that without feeling guilty?
Yes, he had made the snowflake ornament, but at the time, it felt more like a winter decoration and not a Christmas one. It wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t mean anything.
And then he knew he was lying. The truth was, he had a whole collection of ornaments that he’d carved over the years since his parents died. Why? Because it was something he used to do for his mother. She loved them so much, and it was a gift he gave her every year.
And he still did.
He just packed them away and never took them out.
It was crazy, and for the life of him, he had no idea why he kept making them, but he did.
And someday he’d donate them to a hospital or a charity and move on.
His phone beeped with his check email alarm. Since he was sitting at his desk, he decided to check them on the computer instead. The phone was great, but the screen was small and a bit annoying. The twenty-three-inch computer screen made it much easier to navigate around and do his thing.
An email from Henry.
Go figure.
The subject line read “Christmas in Boston,” and the entire body of the email was a list of reasons why Ben needed to be there and the importance of family and supporting Jack and Donna as they start their lives together, blah, blah, blah. And it ended with Stop being such a fucking grinch!
Nice.
It would have been easy to blast off a reply telling his youngest brother to go to hell and leave him alone, but he knew that wasn’t how he felt.
Just how he felt at the moment.
“And I’ll leave this for another day,” he murmured and closed the message. There were a few spam messages that he deleted and one from his editor confirming her receipt of the book files. He muttered a curse as the phone rang again.
Holiday Spice Page 15