Holiday Spice & Everything Nice

by Conn, Claudy

  Only when she got there she wanted to scream. After brushing the snow off the address marker with her bare hands that were now numb again, she read: Smitty’s Place and on the bottom there were the numbers, 1051. Riker’s place was 1052. By the look of things, the unplowed drive, no lights and shuttered windows, Smitty wasn’t spending the holidays here. Why the heck would anyone go to the trouble of maintaining a cabin in this snow infested countryside and not spend Christmas here? Thinking about the relentless white stuff, she turned into the wind and squinted through the pelting flakes for a sign of life. Nothing. She was going to die out here. All that greeted her was a wintry wasteland.

  Giving herself a shake, she came up with a backup plan. First she’d call information for a tow service and then she’d walk for five more minutes. If she didn’t see his cabin, she’d turn back and wait with the car.

  “Are you kidding me!” She almost threw her iPhone into the nearest snowbank. Of course it was dead after talking with her mom so long. “Idiot. You should have stopped and gotten your charger out of your bag.”

  She closed her eyes and faced the sky, letting the flurries melt on her skin in a moment of quiet contemplation. She either did this or screamed at the top of her lungs, which could alert some of the native wildlife to start circling or something. Don’t think about that. Think positive thoughts while you get your shit together.

  The only positive thought to surface was her favorite fantasy she’d been having. A scenario about how things were going to work out between her and Riker. It was the one where they’d make up on Christmas Eve and go skinny dipping in the complex pool after Martha watched her British comedies and went to bed. Sid had even bought vodka and pomegranate juice to make martinis. But that wasn’t going to happen because all that was what she’d left behind to come to this below-freezing clime. Wow, that thought brought her right back down to earth as she glared up at the daunting landscape ahead. What the hell was she doing here? Riker’s cabin could be miles up this road for all she knew. She’d heard the stories about people dying in snow storms. It happened all the time. They got turned around and then confused. Was she confused? Maybe she was already suffering from hypothermia.

  “My name is Sidney Capp. I’m a kindergarten teacher who—” Wait, was that smoke or were her eyes playing tricks on her? They could be because they were aching from the cold. No one ever told you about that. No one ever mentioned how snow landed and stayed in place either. It covered everything, burying things until the landscape all looked the same. She didn’t know why but she’d always thought of snow like rain when it wasn’t. Rain washed away so you could see deer signs, rocks and address markers. All those cozy commercials lied too. She hadn’t curled up in front of one blazing fire since she’d been here. The closest she’d come to that was fantasizing about tossing all her store receipts onto the passenger side floor and putting a match to them after her feet went numb.

  She quickened her trudge, and once she was able to see around the grouping of colossal trees, she smiled. It was smoke. It was puffing out of a red brick chimney that sat on top of log cabin. A real log cabin. That had to be Riker’s place. It was butch, woodsy and nice, it just had to be.

  She was so excited to get to it that she forgot about the cold. Forgot about the parts of her that were wet and quickly turning to ice, and slipped and slid her way down the road until she reached the drive. It was quite a long distance from the street to door as the cabin sat back in the woods, but thankfully the entrance had been plowed and the quaint place was his, thank god. The address marker with the name Mitchell and the number 1052 on it was the best thing she’d seen all day. But then she saw the worst thing ever and her heart sank.

  A car was parked in front of the free standing garage that matched the style of the cabin. Riker only ever drove a truck and, as to that, he always parked it under the carport when he was at the complex because he was particular about his vehicle. So that car? It couldn’t be his.

  The wind whipped around her, tugging on her hood, making her eyes water and her nose numb and still she stood there, unsure about what do now. She couldn’t go back, but the question was, did she want to go forward?

  What choice do you have?

  The closer she got to the front steps, the more she talked herself into believing that it was someone else’s car. Someone other than Brianna’s. But then she knocked on the door and heard rustling. She knocked again and was treated to a sound like a woman’s moan.

  Oh, no.

  Then she heard Riker growl something about Grand Central station and she wanted to run. She didn’t want to do this. She—

  The door swung open and there he was.

  “Sidney.”

  Drinking in his bed-sexy hair, stubble-darkened cheeks and firmly set jaw she wanted to punch him. He was shirtless and those abs of his were all tight and stacked like large rolling pins down either side of his torso, tapering into a pair of loose fitting sweat pants—she gasped—not that loose. They were tight enough for her to see the sizable bulge there. Forget punch. He deserved to be shot. And…and damn it all to hell, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight.

  He tilted his head, bending to get her attention. “Okay, you caught me.”

  He was admitting it? Her gaze slowly lifted and she stared into his sparkling eyes but she didn’t know what to say. Especially when the corner of his mouth tipped up in a grin as he asked, “You want to come in and watch?”

  She was shocked into silence. Did he have no shame?

  “Jesus, it’s cold. You must be freezing.” He stepped back, clearly he wanted her to go inside, when he added, “I’m glad to see you, darlin’.”

  She took one look at the glowing room behind him, lit by golden tones from a raging fire, and felt the rush of warm air breeze over her and decided she’d rather freeze to death in her damn compact.

  “Sid? Whoa, where are you going?”

  “Back to my car.” She tried to fight off his hold and wound up slipping. “Ugh.”

  “Your car? Where is it?”

  By the time he had her turned around she was fuming. He was so calm and she was, well, ready to go ballistic was a phrase that came to mind.

  He smiled down at her in such a patronizing way she knew for sure if he said one more wrong thing she was going to explode. She tried to think of all the reasons she’d come here, she really did so she didn’t make more of a fool of herself, but she drew a blank.

  He gave her the once over and then chuckled, “You look like a possessed Furby in that coat and you smell,” he wrinkled his nose, making an unpleasant face, “like my late grandma’s closet.”

  That did it. She yanked her arms out of his grip and caught her soggy-ass purse before it hit the ground. When she had a good hold of it she straightened and pointed the now limp clutch right at him. “You wouldn’t be cracking jokes at my expense if you knew what it took for me to get here. Hugely expensive and completely delayed flight, downgraded car, shitty directions and this coat? When I had to stop at a gas station about my less-than-perfect map to find you, two women threatened me. They thought this ratty old matted abominable snowman jacket that Martha insisted was a parker, was some sort of rare albino fur of a beast I’d never even heard of. I—”

  “It’s called a Parka.” He pronounced and then made some kind of sound. A chuckle maybe that was husky and sexy as hell. Affecting her even in her present state. The bastard.

  “Don’t you laugh at me.” She shook her purse at him. “I got lost I don’t know how many times. The guy at the one convenience store between here and the I-77 on-ramp thinks I’m doing my own Ground Hog Day movie. A perfectly logical explanation for why I kept stopping to ask him to repeat the same wrong directions over and over again to me. Bad enough, yet worse? There isn’t a trucker on that road who doesn’t hate me. But in my defense, I think a speed of twenty-five miles an hour is a decent clip for someone who has never seen snow before. And that brings me to—”

  “
Darlin’.”

  “—the accident.”

  Riker was just about to insist she get inside. Clearly she was freezing and he was too, but she was on such a roll and he hated to interrupt her, until she sounded as if she’d reached the end that oddly turned out to be the beginning. Now he forgot everything else and went after what was important. “You had an accident? Are you hurt?”

  He pushed her purse out of the way and hauled her up against him. Unmindful of the cold, the smell and the feel of the spongy fur beneath his fingers, he examined her face before he held her at arm’s length and searched the rest of her. “Tell me.”

  “I’m hurt. I’m very, very hurt.”

  His heart pounded. She looked like she was going cry. “Where darlin’?”

  “Right here, okay?”

  For a woman who’d just indicated her ribs—was one cracked?--she seemed extremely aggressive about it. “Is it your ribs? Are they broken?”

  “My ribs? No, it’s not my ribs, you idiot. It’s my heart. You’ve broken it. Let me go.”

  Riker was totally confused. “Maybe you better come inside so we can talk about this.”

  “Why? So I can watch you and Brianna?”

  “Brianna?” He had to hold back a grin because he didn’t want to upset her, but damn, she was adorable when she sulked. Maybe it was the coat. She really did look like a lost little thing wrapped in that spikey hot mess. “I’m watching Debbie.”

  “Debbie?” He had to forcibly pull her in before he could get the door shut. When he did, she sputtered, “Wh-who is Debbie and what happened to Brianna?”

  He was going to answer, but then he spotted her teeth chattering behind blue lips and took charge. “You’re freezing. We need to get you out of these wet things.” He bent to look behind her and frowned. “Did you drive into the creek?”

  “Th-there’s a creek around here? Amazingly, n-no. What d-d-do you think you’re doing? Hey.”

  He ignored her grasping hands, that were also freezing, and stripped the wilted fur off her. When he saw the line of muddy water that had soaked not only her jeans but the shirt she was wearing, he scowled. “How long have you been walking around in these wet things?”

  “Since I-I f-f-f-ell o-f-f-ff the sno-w b-b-bank.”

  Riker knew from experience that once you started to peel off the layers, even though they were cold and wet, it was like taking out bad insulation in an attic. Even some bad insulation was better than none.

  He got her stripped down to bra and panties and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch. “Chin up.” He wrapped the plaid fleece tightly around her and then pulled her into his arms for a rub. “Tell me about the accident,” he spoke softly while he tried to warm her up.

  “It was…s-scary. The c-car spun out and landed on a sn-ow b-bank.”

  At least she wasn’t fighting him anymore. “The car landed in a snow bank and then what happened?”

  “On the snow bank,” she corrected and he was glad she was shivering less. “Then when I got d-down and out of it a-and closed the door, it fell off.”

  “The snow bank?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her face into his chest and took a couple of deep breaths as if she were gathering strength or something. Then she tilted her head back and whispered, “I’m sorry I came. I should go.”

  He ignored that and whispered back, “How did you get wet?”

  “The airbag going off spooked me and I fell on my ass in the road.”

  Well, that was plain enough. He was going to tease her about it when it hit him. Sidney was here. She’d gotten on a plane and put her life into her hands by driving in a snow storm that had made him sit up and take notice when he was on the road yesterday. And then, by all accounts, she’d survived a spinout and had walked the rest of the way to get here. To him.

  “Why are you smiling? You think it’s funny? I could have died.”

  Her hair was a mess, her nose was bright red and the smell of Martha’s coat still clung to her, but for all of that she was the best thing he’d seen in days. He thought about how totally together and elegant Brianna had been and silently cursed. Jesus, what a fucking hypocrite he’d been. It was time Sid knew it.

  Brushing aside her bangs, he said, “I should have been more understanding about the situation with your parents, it’s just that—”

  “Riker,” she tried to back out of his arms but he wouldn’t let her, “what about Debbie?”

  When she pointed to the wine glass on the counter that was smeared with Brianna’s lipstick, it dawned on him and he understood why she was so upset and wanted to leave. With a smile that made his face ache, he turned with her in his arms and bent to speak in her ear, “Debbie Does Dallas is one of the classics I inherited from that client’s stash I told you about. You want to watch it with me tonight?”

  She turned round eyes up at him. “You were watching porn on Christmas Eve? That’s what you were watching when I knocked and you answered the door…”

  “Sporting some wood?” Yep, quirky all right. “So what? Did I break some holiday rule or something?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” she whispered as if she didn’t want Santa to hear.

  “Don’t tell me. I’ve just earned a lump of coal in my stocking.” He shook his head. There was no fucking Santa Clause and just when he was going to tell her so, he saw himself in her eyes. Her sparkling, bright and gorgeous eyes and thought, what the hell are you doing?

  Sidney happened to him. Him, when she could have happened to anyone else on the planet, and he was going to force reality here? Fuck no. If she wanted to believe in Santa Claus with the tooth fairy as his bride and the Loch Ness monster their beloved pet, well then, he was going to be the guy who made sure no one crushed her spirit by bah humbugging her over it.

  “Even I don’t watch porn on Christmas Eve.” She said this as if she was the resident expert, but before he could answer her, she frowned and added, “It’s a sacrilege. Only It’s A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story are allowed on television. That’s it. Nothing else for the whole night.”

  “Hm.” He gave her a squeeze. “But I’m pretty sure there’s not enough skin in either of those flicks to get my rocks off. Which I so needed to do being that I was stuck here missing my angel.”

  “Your angel? Me?” She turned in his arms—an encouraging sign— and toyed with his collar. “But what about Brianna? She was here, yes?”

  Her hands were warm now. Soft. He nodded. “Yes, she was, yesterday when I got here.”

  Her hand stopped stroking him. “I see. I know about her…and you. I know—”

  “Sid—”

  She looked up. “No, please listen to me. Please.”

  Hell.

  “I want you to know that it was never about you. With my parents, I mean. It was about me. How they’d feel about me if they knew what I’d done all weekend and stuff. It wasn’t about what or who you were. You could have been anyone. Wait, that didn’t sound good. I mean…”

  “I know what you mean. I kind of figured that out once I got over my anger, but by then I was on the road here and then there was Brianna.”

  The plaid blanket fell off one of Sid’s shoulders and he didn’t deny the urge he had to curl down and kiss that silky curve.

  “We don’t have to talk about her. I trust you. Whatever happened was the right choice, I’m sure of it.”

  He stood up straight. “Really?”

  She vigorously nodded as if she had to talk herself into the idea. “Absolutely.”

  “Okay.” He led her into the kitchen and then lifted her up until she was seated on the counter. With his hip, he wedged her knees apart so he was standing between her spread thighs. “But I want to tell you this.”

  She’d been busy tucking the blanket around herself then stopped. “I’m listening.”

  God he’d thought about those freckles, sprinkled so sparingly over her nose and cheeks, hundreds of times over the last few days. He’d been starved for the sig
ht of them. He’s been right too. They were the lightest honey color imaginable.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  The freckles disappeared in the hot pink blush that surfaced. Damn, he hadn’t meant to worry her. “Oh?”

  “About Brianna.”

  They were right at eye level now that she was on the counter and he realized she was going use it to her best advantage and stare right at him. Hell. A fine time to have to admit the one secret he’d never told anyone before. Deep breath.

  “I picked Brianna.”

  “I’m sure you did. I imagine she’s beautiful.”

  Riker looked away and then looked back. If he was going to do this he was doing it right. “I didn’t pick Bree because she was pretty. Don’t get me wrong, she’s gorgeous if you happened to like skinny, leggy chicks with no ass, but that’s not why I picked her. She was quality.” Sidney tilted her head and frowned so he continued, “She was elegant and good to have on the arm when I had to go business functions. I thought she’d be the perfect woman to give me a leg up with the suits and the credibility I was lacking in certain social circles.”

  He looked down at her right hand. Her palm rested flat on the counter beside her thigh. He’d give anything to feel her softness against him. “Put your hand on my shoulder.”

  She looked at him.

  “Please.”

  When she did touch him, he closed his eyes and pressed the side of his jaw into her hand. “I should have practiced what I preached. Different in life is far better than the sameness everyone else is after. Bree figured that out too late. I just hope I haven’t.”

  She turned her hand until her palm was flattened on his cheek, and then her other one came up and slapped against him as she squeezed. “What are you saying?” He opened his eyes and smiled. Clearly she didn’t like that because she frowned. “Riker, what? Why are you smiling?”

  He freed himself from her grip and leaned back.