by Lori Wilde
“So you’re—”
“Divorced,” he admitted, although in his mind his marriage to Tatum barely counted as being married. “What about you?”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?” He planted his palms over his ears. “Please don’t tell me you’re married.”
“Not married. In fact, I’ve never had a serious relationship.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
How was that possible that some guy hadn’t already snatched up a woman like her? “Why not?”
“Long-term relationships take tending. No time. Been too busy with school.”
“The school you dropped out of.”
“Yes.” Her mouth turned down and her eyes looked sad.
“But now you’re out of school and no job and lots of time on your hands.”
“There’s more to the story,” she said. “It’s complicated.”
“I gave up complicated,” he said. “My life is straightforward. Simple.”
Her pupils widened. “I envy you,” she said, strain staining her voice, bringing it down. Heavy.
“In what way?” he asked.
“You know what you want and who you are.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Give it time. I’ve got six years on you. You’ll get there,” he said as if he was some wise guru and not the Peter Pan of the Cheek clan.
“I hope so,” she whispered, and sounded so lost it was all he could do not to slip his arm around her and hold her close.
“How long are you going to be in town?” he asked.
“Through Christmas.”
“Katie’s not coming home for Christmas?” The thought alarmed him. The Cheeks made a point of always being home for Christmas.
“She’s coming back the day after.”
“Mom’s gonna be upset.” Hey, he was upset about it.
“I think Katie already spoke to your mother about it.”
Joe frowned. “Mom didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“Your family is that close that you all speak every day?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We are. Especially at the holidays.”
“Maybe your mother is keeping it quiet so everyone doesn’t bug Katie to come home.”
“Maybe.” He watched her take a sip of the water he’d gotten her for the hiccups. She had a beautiful throat, long and slender. “What about your family? Will they be upset that you won’t be home for Christmas?”
“If they even notice.” She mumbled it so softly he wasn’t sure he heard her. In a louder voice she said, “They work a lot. Christmas is no big deal in my family.”
That last statement, the wistful tone in her voice got to him. Christmas was such a huge deal in his family and hometown he couldn’t imagine not having a full-on celebration of the season. He quelled the impulse to touch her, tell her he was sorry for all she missed. It wasn’t his place to judge her life or pity her.
It was getting so dark now that Joe could barely make out her features. He reached over to flick on the light above the sink and they both blinked owlishly at the sudden brightness.
Up close, in full light, Gabi’s blue eyes turned the color of a clear morning sky. They were framed by long, thick black lashes. She wore a crisp white button-down blouse underneath that tight-fitting sweater. It gave her a smart, collegiate look. She wore a flirty red and green plaid skirt that his mother would have said was too short, but Joe thought looked just fine. The skirt showcased her long, shapely legs sheathed in gray leggings.
“Katie’s running from a broken heart,” Joe said, carefully watching Gabi’s face to gauge her reaction. “What are you running from?”
“Who says I’m running?”
He motioned around the room. “You showed up here sight unseen for a three-week stay over Christmas. You’re avoiding someone or something.”
She gave a harsh little laugh. “I’m afraid, Mr. Cheek, that’s not any of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me …” She waved toward the door. “I’d like to settle in.”
“Sure,” he said easily enough even as the atmosphere in the room tensed. He put out his palm. “Give me your phone.”
“What for?” she asked, her brows diving in distrust.
“I’ll program my cell number into it so you’ll have me on speed dial if you need anything.”
Her chin hardened stubbornly. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will, but I promised Katie I’d look after you.”
“Consider yourself off the hook.”
“Sorry, no can do.”
“What does this mean exactly?”
“Like it or not, it’s my job to make sure your needs are met.”
“Katie didn’t say a word about it to me.”
“Doesn’t matter whether she did or not. I’m doing it.”
“So you will be skulking around here all the time?”
He straightened his spine. “Negatory. I don’t skulk. I’m not a skulker. It just means I will be taking care of Katie’s critters and keeping an eye on the place.”
“Oh, if that’s all …”
“That’s all.”
“Well, fine, proceed with animal caretaking.”
“Also, I’m here to help you adjust to the yurt.”
“What’s to adjust?” She glanced around the room. “I seem to have all the creature comforts.”
“Yurt living isn’t for everyone,” he said. “Wind can be an issue if it whips up. Can really shake the walls. And whatever is going on outside, you’ll hear it inside. The fireplace is your only heater, so you’ll have to get up several times in the night to stoke it.”
“I’m sure I can handle that,” she assured him spunkily, but he saw her dart a nervous glance at the firewood stacked next to the fireplace.
“I’ll start a fire for you before I leave.”
“I can start my own fire,” she said, but there was doubt in her voice.
“It would be my pleasure.”
She nodded like a woman with a solid plan. “No, that’s okay. I need to learn to do things for myself.”
“You sure?”
She shivered again. “How hard can it be?”
He had the distinct feeling she’d never started a fire in her life, and no matter how tough she was trying to be, he wasn’t going to leave her without heat. Without asking her permission, he stalked over to the fireplace and arranged the seasoned firewood on the grate.
“Really,” she protested weakly, coming up behind him. “I can do it.”
“Just watch me do it this first time. After that it’s all up to you.”
“All right.” She knelt on the hearth beside him, watching his every move, her sharp eyes taking mental notes.
Outside, the sun had set, the sky gone fully dark at five forty-five. And it was so quiet he could hear Gabi’s ragged breathing, then realized that his own was just as tattered. He put the lighter to the kindling, igniting a cheery flame. Once the fire caught, he fed more wood onto it. Stoking the flame into a crackling blaze, the kind good for curling up in front of during a stormy winter night.
Gabi leaned closer, rubbing her palms together. “This is so nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He stepped back to give her more room, but his shoulder accidentally brushed against hers, and the static electric jolt was so powerful the air snapped louder than the fire.
Gabi’s lips rounded into a startled circle. “Ow.”
“Didn’t mean to zap you,” he apologized. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” She rubbed her shoulder, gave him a befuddled smile. “It’s the sweater.”
He nodded. Yeah. Go with that excuse. It was better than the truth, that they shared an undeniable electrical charge.
“Keep the embers stoked during the night and you should be okay,” he murmured.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Well,” she
said. “Good-bye.”
He didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t think of another excuse to stay. “You know, if yurt living turns out not to be your thing, I own a rent house in town that’s standing empty right now. You might be more comfortable there.”
“You own a rent house?” Her voice went up on a hopeful note.
“Actually, I own several of them in various states,” he said.
“Really?” She looked impressed, and his stomach did a weird jiggly thing.
“Got one in Atlanta, Oklahoma City, Vegas. I usually buy one wherever I’m living, redo it, and rent it out when I leave.”
“No kidding?”
“Gives me a steady monthly income.”
“So you’re a jack of all trades.”
“Master of none,” he finished.
“You’ve lived in a lot of places?”
“I have trouble staying put.”
“Why is that?”
“Dunno,” he said, although he did; it was easier to play ignorant than give her an answer she wouldn’t understand. “Guess I’m easily bored.”
It was true enough. He easily grew restless if he didn’t have a lot of projects to keep his mind from endless churning. “Anyway, the rent house is there if you need it. No charge since you’re a friend of Katie’s and it’s better to have someone in it than let it sit empty.”
She looked tempted, but shook herself. “Thank you, but my arrangement is with Katie.”
“Suit yourself.” Joe took his business card from his wallet, and laid it on the mantel. “If you need anything, here’s my phone number.”
She picked up the card, clutched it like it was a lifeline, and that made him feel good. She met his eyes, held his gaze.
Time seemed to spin out of control and neither of them moved, just stared at each other. It was an odd sensation. Like they were locked in that weird twilight state of consciousness between waking and sleep. He couldn’t rightly explain what he was feeling or why he was feeling it, but it felt … What?
He searched his mind, couldn’t find a name for it. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she echoed.
Then he got the hell out of there before he did something spectacularly stupid. Like kiss her again.
This time for real.
CHAPTER 4
Christmas—that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance—a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.
—Augusta E. Rundel
Ten minutes after Joe left, Gabi sat in the yurt swamped with loneliness. There wasn’t much to familiarize herself with. Katie lived simply. She’d already circled the house a half dozen times, stared out the window to the Christmas tree farm across the street, and added more wood to the fire.
As doubt crept in to join the loneliness, she turned on the satellite TV for distraction. But she couldn’t find a program to hold her interest. She was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a stranger’s belongings and her errant thoughts, with nothing to do but make sure the fire kept going and wonder why she ever thought that swapping houses with a stranger was a good idea. It sounded wonderful in the movies, but reality was a bit different.
Except for the hot guy. He wasn’t a disappointment.
No, Joe was not a disappointment, but he was certainly a distraction. She was here to sort herself out, not have a fling.
You can run from your troubles, but you can’t hide.
Yes. Just what she needed. A wiseass subconscious.
Hard to believe Derrick’s snow globe was responsible for her ending up here. Sorrow twisted her heart, and Gabi got up to retrieve her purse. She carried it to the sofa, settled the purse into her lap, dug to the bottom, and pulled out the well-worn ornament box that contained the snow globe.
The glass orb was cool beneath her hands, and one look at the festive holiday scene inside the globe and she was transported back in time.
Derrick had given her the snow globe for her sixth Christmas. It was the last time she’d seen her older brother alive.
It was Christmas Eve morning and her parents were both in court on separate trials. The nanny had taken her to the hospital to see Derrick. The room smelled stinky in that hospital way and Gabi almost didn’t recognize him because he was so skinny and bald again.
But he’d taken one look at her and dissolved into his familiar smile and she had helplessly smiled back. “Get right up here, pipsqueak.”
He’d lifted a hand to listlessly pat a spot beside him on the hard plastic mattress. A needle was taped into the back of that pale hand and a tube snaked from the needle up into a bag full of liquid that hung from a machine at the head of the bed.
“C’mon,” he coaxed. “I promise not to bite.”
Gabi stuck her hands behind her back. She hadn’t thought he would bite her. It was the bed she feared.
Nanny sat across the room on the edge of a chair, her purse clutched in her lap, a sad expression on her face. “Go on.”
Gabi looked from Nanny to Derrick. His smile was drooping, but he pushed it back up. He didn’t understand how scared she was of that bed. All she wanted was to beg Nanny to take her out of there. Take her to the beach where she could play in the surf and build castles on the sand and feed the squabbling seagulls from a loaf of bread. She wanted to breathe fresh clean air instead of the strange hospital smell that made her nose sting. She wanted to ride the Ferris wheel on the pier and eat hot dogs and pink cotton candy.
But she loved her brother something fierce and she knew he’d rather be at the beach doing all those things with her than trapped here. And when he smiled at her, she felt a warm, happy spark in the center of her chest, and what she wanted didn’t matter. She was here for her big brother.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said. “But you’ve gotta come up here to get it.”
Gabi had stared at him, torn between her desire to cuddle up next to her big brother and her fear of that bed. She’d been in enough of them to know that hospital beds equaled pain and suffering.
Lots of pain and lots of suffering.
“I need a hug,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay.” The whites of Derrick’s eyes were red and his voice was so soft she could barely hear him. He crooked a finger at her.
She inched nearer, even though her feet wanted to run right out that door. She felt ashamed for wanting to run. And guilty too, because she could run and he couldn’t do that anymore.
“Please, Gabi,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to be alone.”
She took a step forward and then hiccupped. It was the first time she remembered having the hiccups. The sound was loud in the quiet room and it made Derrick laugh. She laughed because he laughed and then she hiccupped again and they both started giggling so hard she thought they would never stop.
Finally, she worked up the courage to crawl onto the bed beside him and he cradled her in the crook of his arm like she was a baby.
After a while, he reached under the covers and pulled out a box wrapped in blue paper and topped with a shiny silver ribbon.
Blue. Her favorite color in the whole world.
“It’s your Christmas present,” he said.
“But it’s not Christmas,” she protested, even though part of her wanted to rip right into the wrapping.
“Christmas is tomorrow,” he said.
“Then you can give it to me tomorrow when you come home.”
“I won’t be coming home for Christmas.”
Gabi’s tummy hurt and she wanted to cry. How could this be? They couldn’t have Christmas with Derrick stuck in the hospital. She sat up to argue with him, but when she moved, he winced.
“I hurt you!” she exclaimed.
“No, no. I’m okay.” He smiled past the pain in his eyes.
“I’m s
o, so sorry.” Gently, she patted his cheek, surprised at how hot his skin was.
“Shh, Gabi. No. You’re the one person in the world who has never, ever hurt me.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” she assured him with all the earnest faith of a six-year-old.
He didn’t say anything, just put the present in her hand, before flopping heavily back against the pillow.
She stared at the package in her lap, a mad, sad, scared feeling pinching her insides like a chip clip.
“Open it.” Derrick nudged her with his elbow.
She hauled in a deep breath and slowly untied the silver ribbon. Once the bow was undone, she checked his face to read his expression.
He smiled softly. “Go on.”
Painstakingly, she took the tape off the blue paper and unfolded it from around the box. Her eyes lit up when she saw the picture of the snow globe on the box. She loved snow globes.
“Here,” he said. “Let me help you.”
It took him forever to prop himself up against the headboard and take the snow globe out of the box. Excitement made her jittery, but Gabi waited patiently. She was good at waiting.
After he got the snow globe out of the box, Derrick shook it to make it snow inside the globe world and then put it in her hands.
Gabi sat cross-legged beside him, mesmerized by the whirl of snow and the Christmas tableau. The scene could have come from a Dickens novel, the tiny people all dressed in old-timey clothing, strolling streets decorated for Christmas. The details were intricate—from the vendor selling roasted chestnuts, to wreaths around the necks of sturdy horses pulling a carriage, to the bright orange carrot on the nose of the snowman.
Derrick flipped a switch on the base of the globe and lights came on in the miniature houses and streetlamps. Then he cranked the key on the bottom and the globe started to spin and play music. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
Something blocked up her throat. A big knot that made it hard to swallow. Her big brother wouldn’t be home for Christmas.
Derrick leaned toward her and she could see blue-green veins twisty as ropes underneath his skin. “See that boy and girl?” He pointed to the figurine of an older boy holding hands with a younger girl as they raced to see Santa Claus seated on his sleigh.
She bobbed her head. The boy was much taller than the girl in the same way Derrick was taller than she, back when he could stand up. And the girl had light brown hair and blue eyes just like Gabi.