Christmas Sanctuary

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “I—what?” His words had thrown her off. “I do not!”

  “Think back, Peaches. I’m not the one who brought sex into this conversation.”

  “I—” She cut herself off, slowing bending to get her purse so that she would have something to do with her hands. He was absolutely right. He hadn’t propositioned her—she’d assumed he was going to.

  “And how, pray tell, do you plan to make it up to me, then?” Feeling exposed after her gaffe, she drew on every bit of cool composure that she’d learned from her mother, wrapping it around her like a shawl. If she barricaded herself well enough, he’d never know that she was actually the tiniest bit disappointed.

  “How’s your ankle today?” He gestured as he spoke, making her look down. It was tender, but not unbearable. “Regretting wearing those stupid shoes while you were tromping over ice and snow yet?”

  “Oh, heaven help me,” Emma spat out in frustration. “The shoes are not stupid. I’m fine, just fine. Like new, in fact.”

  He grinned then, amusement creeping into his features. She didn’t like it. “What are you smirking about?”

  “I just wanted to know how your ankle was.” He smiled innocently, and she knew, somehow, that she was trapped. “If it’s fine, then I guess you have no reason not to come with me on a hike.”

  Chapter 14

  “Almost there.” Nick resisted the urge to hold out a hand to help Emma balance, not at all convinced that she wouldn’t bite it given half a chance. She was not at all pleased that he’d tricked her into another hike, and more than that, into spending more time with him, but her pride wouldn’t let her renege.

  He’d already known before asking her that her ankle was fine. She’d been walking on it without incident, if a bit awkwardly—and he’d watched. The best thing for her today was to stretch it out. Especially since she was now wearing a decent pair of boots and a winter coat. She’d insisted—smartly—on purchasing some winter gear from a store in town before they’d headed out. If she hadn’t, he would have dragged her to buy some himself.

  “You said that ten minutes ago.” Her voice was full of vinegar instead of honey as she huffed her way up the small incline. “Forgive me if I don’t believe y’all.”

  “Your choice.” He did his best to hide the grin, but damn, he liked getting her all worked up. Liked the way that sweet-as-syrup accent would thicken from the thinner, icy tone she usually had. “I thought you could handle this. Maybe I was wrong. We make them tough up North here, but I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “I can handle anything you throw at me.” She drew up next to him as he halted on the hilltop. She narrowed her eyes. “Is this it? Are we here?”

  “Indeed.” He grinned as she looked at him expectantly, then huffed out a breath of exasperation. “I’m sorry, did you want something?”

  “You promised me wine.” She tugged at his backpack with an elegant hand. “I hiked up the damn mountain. Gimme.”

  “All right, all right.” Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he stifled his grin. The damn mountain was a gentle rise, more of a brisk walk than a hike. But she’d earned her moment, so he tugged out the waterproof blanket he’d packed, as well as the bottle of wine and plastic cups. “You deserve it.”

  Spreading out the blanket, he lowered himself down onto it, then glanced back up. She was staring down at where the edge of the silver thermal fabric glinted against the fluffy white snow, her brow knit in confusion. “You expect me to sit in the snow?”

  “If you want your wine, absolutely.” Opening the screw top—classy stuff—he poured a measure of the crimson liquid into each cup, then held one up to her, just out of her reach.

  She huffed out a breath but finally, gingerly, lowered herself to the blanket. Shifting from side to side, she settled in. “This should be colder than it is.”

  “You bought good gear. You’ll be fine.”

  With that, he handed her a cup. She took a sip, and he watched from the corner of his eye as her cheeks pinked in the chilly air.

  “Is this how you’re making it up to me?” Her words were still tart, but there was reluctant amusement behind them. “Cheap wine on a blanket in the snow?”

  “Nope.” If he was a better man, he might not have felt so much satisfaction when he heard her quick intake of breath at the press of his fingers on her cheek. He wasn’t, though, and knowing that he affected her as much as she affected him was a hook in his gut, drawing him closer to her than he ever thought he’d want to be.

  “I don’t understand—” Emma started, but when she gasped he knew she’d seen what he’d brought her up here for. “Oh. Oh!”

  Spread out before them was his favorite view on the island—his favorite place in the entire world, actually. He’d been here countless times, but as he saw it now through Emma’s fresh eyes, he felt the wonder all over again.

  They were seated on top of a large hill, one of the craggy shelves of rock at the edge of a small mountain. It was cold enough that the snow beneath them was as fine as flour, dancing in the air every time a breeze blew through.

  Before them spread out a vista that never failed to tug at his soul. The rocks of the hill were stacked in shelves below them, interspersed with densely carpeted swaths of forest-green—pine trees, huddled tightly together as if they were trying to stay warm in the cold.

  And beyond that, a stretch of what he knew was pale sand, though it sat beneath a thick quilt of more snow and the occasional crust of ice. And farther still, the water. The lace-tipped waves of the Pacific Ocean, crashing against each other. He often thought that the walls of water looked as if they were having disagreements with one another. On quieter days, they were just small spats, the crests slapping at one another with only a hint of temper. Other times, like today, they were violent, landing full body slams, the wind screaming around them.

  The movements often mirrored how he felt himself. But today, on the hill, they were more sheltered than they would have been out on the water, and Nick was glad for it. Initially, he really had just meant this trip as a nice gesture to make up for what an asshole he’d been to her since they’d met. But now that they were here….

  He wasn’t sure what it was he felt for Emma, exactly; he only knew that he was glad he’d shown her this, glad he’d shared this place that was so special to him. That gladness would likely change later when he felt vulnerable from sharing, but right in that moment he wasn’t scared of what he was feeling. He decided to just let it happen.

  “What do you think?” He found himself holding his breath. By showing her this place, he’d revealed a part of himself, and her opinion mattered.

  “Nick.” She exhaled on a long breath, the warmth from her lips visible in a cloud as wispy as cotton candy. “I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”

  He opened his mouth to agree, then closed it again, struck by her bravery. She’d flown all the way to a strange place, a different country, to meet a father she’d never known. She’d pushed back when he’d done his best to get under her skin. He’d dragged the southern girl on a hike in the ice and snow. She had every right to be angry, to be bitter. Instead she was regarding his favorite place in the world as though she’d found the gate to Heaven.

  She understood—there was magic here. Hell, she was magic. A Christmas wish come true. Without thinking it through, he set his plastic cup down in the snow. She made a small sound of surprise when he took her cup as well, nestling it down beside his. When he placed his gloved hand on her cheek, though, the curiosity had changed to anticipation.

  Tilting her head, she lifted her lips to meet his as he drew her close for a kiss.

  The skin of her mouth was crisply cold, contrasting with the soft warmth of her breath as he sampled her lips. Her sharp inhalation when he traced the seam with his tongue tugged at something in his chest, something that would normally frighten him.

  Here, in this perfect moment, he ignored it, forging past the knee-jerk instinct to pull away, to rein
force his walls. Instead he let himself just want her the way he wanted her, sinking deep into the embrace.

  She sighed softly when he pulled away, blinking up at him with eyes the same ghostlike blue as the winter sky above them.

  “Well, look at that.” Her voice was quiet as a small furrow appeared between her brows. He could see it in her face that she’d felt the same intensity he had, and wanted to puzzle out what it meant, too.

  The kiss, the intimacy hadn’t worried him, but he felt the familiar dissonance in his mind at the thought of discussing it. When she shivered he shamelessly used it as an out, passing her cup back over.

  “Drink up.” He kissed her again deeply, leaving her slightly dazed and himself out of breath. What was it about her that made his blood race like that? “It’ll warm you up.”

  “That’s a myth,” she said primly as she sipped from her cup. “Alcohol does nothing to the internal temperature of the drinker.”

  “Of course you would know that.” He’d watched those big eyes take in everything around her, all the time, and imagined that her busy brain was like a sponge, filing things away for no reason other than to satisfy her curiosity. “Got a subscription to Science Weekly?”

  He liked that she was smart. He liked everything about her.

  “No.” She sat up straight before breaking into a wide grin, transforming her face into sunshine. “I saw it on MythBusters.”

  The woman sounded like honey, was smart and gorgeous, and made him want things he had no business wanting.

  Was it any wonder he couldn’t get her out of his mind?

  Chapter 15

  Emma felt as if electricity was thrumming along her skin as Nick’s truck pulled up to the front of her tiny cabin. The early afternoon sunlight glistened off the tinsel that she could see through the window, and instead of upsetting her as it had earlier, the dancing sparkles made her smile.

  That smile faded when a man rounded the corner of the cabin, shading his eyes as Nick shifted the truck into Park. Emma’s stomach sank like a stone in the water.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she muttered to herself as she undid her seat belt. Irritation was a thousand tiny needles in her brain.

  “Look what the what?” Nick’s brow furrowed at her southern slang, but when he saw her face, his focus shifted. “Who is that? Are you okay?”

  “Um…” Emma looked through the windshield to where Matthew stood, arms now crossed over his chest as he waited rather impatiently for her to get out of the truck. “Thank you for the…the hike. The wine.”

  She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth and then decided to be fully honest. “Thank you for showing me your favorite place. It was…I appreciate it.”

  “You appreciate it?” He arched an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to her lips, and she ran her tongue over them self-consciously, flushing a little. He was remembering their kiss…their kisses, plural. She was, too.

  If Matthew wasn’t here on her doorstep, she just might have been brave enough to invite Nick inside for a bit. The fact that she no longer could invite Nick in made her resent the presence of her ex even more.

  “I’ll…” She wanted to ask Nick to call her, or to tell him that she’d stop by the studio the next day, but the bravery she’d felt that morning was rapidly fleeing, scared away by the reminder of her life back home. “Thank you.”

  Embarrassed by how cold her words were, she opened the passenger door and slid out. She sounded so abrupt, so curt. She definitely didn’t sound the way Nick made her feel.

  “Matthew.” Closing the short distance, Emma listened to the quiet tick of the engine in the thin air. “Why are you here?”

  Surprise flashed over his features, which exasperated Emma. Matthew had never been great at seeing the other side of things—he tended to decide what he was going to do, and if others didn’t like it, he couldn’t quite understand how they could be displeased when he was not.

  She heard the driver’s door open, the crunch of boots on the snow-packed ground behind her.

  “Everything okay?” Nick came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder protectively. When she glanced behind her, she saw that his jaw was set, his lips curved in the slightest of smirks.

  “It’s fine—” She started to speak, but Matthew cut her off.

  “Who’s this?” He drew himself up to his full six-foot-two-inch height, pulling his shoulders back. Wearing a charcoal Tom Ford suit that she’d helped him pick out at the Nordstrom’s in Atlanta, he looked as crisp as if he hadn’t just traveled for nearly a full day, which Emma knew he must have. He also looked cold, his sweeping black peacoat not meant for the current temperature.

  “Matthew, this is…Nick.” She blanched. “Nick, Matthew.”

  “And who is Nick, exactly?” Matthew cast a sharp look at her. Most people wouldn’t have been able to read much emotion in his face at all, but Emma had known him for so long that the snap of jealousy was quite clear.

  “Nick is a friend of my father’s.” She forced herself to speak calmly, though she could barely hear the words over the thundering of her pulse. Guilt was warm and sticky, tugging at her and trying to drag her down.

  She forced herself to shake it off. She had ended things with Matthew. She could spend her time with whomever she wanted. And Nick…well. She had no idea what to call the thing between them, and she guessed he didn’t, either, so he couldn’t get upset with her, really.

  With this firmly in mind, she didn’t bother refraining from rolling her eyes as the two men sized each other up. The way they puffed their chests out and squared their shoulders reminded her of the roosters on a farm she’d visited for a field trip in elementary school, each ready to charge if another rooster so much as stuck a beak into his territory.

  “I’m fixin’ to talk to you, Emma.” Apparently deciding that pecking the enemy was beneath him, Matthew turned slightly, placing the whole of his attention on Emma. He was upset—she could tell by the way the South had thickened in his voice. “Can we go inside and have some tea? What kind of person can live in this cold?”

  “We’re called Ca-na-di-ans.” Nick grinned, though there was no mirth in the expression. “Guess we’re just tougher than most.”

  “Nick.” Emma tugged on the end of her ponytail with frustration. “Matthew. Mind your manners.”

  The man she’d planned to marry looked taken aback at the chastisement. Guilt pinched something inside her chest until she remembered why she was up here in the first place.

  Still, she’d known him her entire life. He’d come all this way to see her—she owed it to him to talk.

  “We can have tea.” Turning to Nick, she faltered when she saw his expression. Wild—that was her first thought. Barely restrained ferocity, control hanging by a thread.

  It made no sense, but she felt her pulse speed up regardless. It made no sense, and that was why she liked it.

  “I’ll come by the studio later?” She flushed as soon as she spoke, thinking of the implication of her words—did it sound like she wanted to come over so that she could crawl into his bed?

  Was it wrong that, when his eyes darkened, she thought that that might be the reason after all?

  “Make sure you do.” His words sounded deliberately provocative, and her heart rate sped even faster. Nearly forgetting that Matthew was there, she made a small sound as Nick hooked his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him, against him, with one quick tug.

  He claimed her lips, parting them just long enough to sweep his tongue inside. He nipped at her bottom lip, making her knees go weak before he pulled back, eyes flashing with triumph.

  “Later.” His stare flicked to Matthew, triumph flickering there. Emma’s temper flared, and she pressed her hands to Nick’s chest and shoved, light but firm.

  “Enough with the testosterone.” A hint of a smile appeared on Matthew’s face, disappearing abruptly when Emma glared at him, too. She pointed to the cabin door, turning her back on Ni
ck. “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll see you later.” Nick’s words were lazy, arrogant—the cocky artist she’d met in the studio was back, crowding out the multifaceted man who had appeared during their hike.

  The attraction flashed bright even through her agitation. Yes, he was cocky, but he had a reason to be.

  Turning her attention back to Matthew, she saw a mix of emotions on his face, but the one that caught her attention was the tendril of pain. She’d hurt him with her response to Nick’s kiss. And while she wasn’t sorry for ending things between them, she hated to cause him pain.

  “Come on.” Sighing under the weight of the surreal thing that her life had become, she slipped her rustic cabin key from the pocket of her new down-filled coat. “Let’s get you some hot tea to thaw you out, and you can tell me why you’re here.”

  Chapter 16

  “I have to say, Emma, I’m a little fit to be tied here.” Matthew shrugged his coat off his shoulders, looking around for a place to put it and appearing perplexed when he didn’t find one in the tiny space. Finally, he folded it in half and laid it at the head of the bed. When another glance showed that there were no chairs, he perched gingerly on the edge of the mattress, clearly pained. The sight of him in the cabin made Emma keenly feel the collision of two worlds that were otherwise completely separate in her mind. She couldn’t help but blink at him.

  “There’s nothing to get your feathers ruffled over.” She spoke calmly as she sorted through the small cabinets in the minuscule kitchenette, though she could still feel the press of Nick’s mouth on hers. Finding a dented stovetop kettle and a box of something called Red Rose tea, she busied herself setting water to boil, rinsing out two plain mugs before dropping a teabag into each. She inhaled the familiar scent of black tea and spice, drawing comfort from it before she turned back to Matthew.