Blush Duo - Marriage Under the Mistletoe & The Christmas Inn

by Helen Lacey

  “About you?” He smiled. “Hardly. She’s happy if I’m happy.”

  Evie’s inside jumped. It sounded so incredibly intimate. Scott was happy with her? She didn’t dare imagine what that meant. “And she never remarried after your dad passed away?”

  “Nope.”

  “She must have loved him deeply. I mean to never have another man in her life.”

  “She did,” he replied, and suddenly he was thinking about Evie and not his mother. Evie hadn’t remarried. Evie had stayed true to her husband. Except for now, he thought, feeling the smoothness of her lovely skin against him. Feeling Evie all over him, inside, as if she were the air in his lungs. How would he ever breathe again once he left her?

  “How did they meet?”

  Scott shuffled his thoughts to her question. “They met when they were twenty. My dad and his twin sister moved to L.A. when they were twenty and got jobs working with a telecommunications company. They were only meant to be gone twelve months. Turns out they stayed for good.”

  Eve cuddled closer. “Was he sick for a long time?”

  Scott’s chest tightened. “Yes. He’d been in a bad accident a few years before and afterward was plagued by the side effects and related illnesses.”

  “What kind of accident?”

  “He was a climber,” he said, thinking that would be enough. “A mountaineer.”

  Evie shifted on her side and looked at him. “Tell me about his accident.”

  Scott closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what had happened as though it were yesterday. “He was on an expedition to Nanga Parbat, the second highest peak in Pakistan. He suffered from high-altitude edema and almost lost his life. Fortunately his team got him down in time. He came home to us and died a couple of years later. He didn’t have the lungs to climb again. Sometimes I think that not climbing was more responsible for his death than the peak itself.”

  “I didn’t realize he was an—”

  “Adrenaline junkie?” He cut her off gently. “Yes, he was.”

  “Did you ever climb with him?”

  “I did not.” It came out harsher than he liked, but a swell of feelings washed up in his chest, mixing with the sudden desire not to talk about his father.

  Evie picked up on it immediately. “You didn’t approve?”

  Scott shrugged. “It wasn’t my place to approve. It was his life.”

  “A life he risked?”

  Scott felt the truth burn through his blood. And the lingering resentment for a man who was essentially a good father—although sometimes a reckless one. “Like I said, it was his—”

  “You don’t believe that,” she said, cutting him off as she sat up. “I don’t get it—you obviously have a problem with what your dad did and yet you chose to become a firefighter.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other.”

  Evie made a huffing sound. “Yeah—right. One is all about the other.”

  “My father climbed mountains for the thrill of the climb—I do not fight fires for that reason.” He pushed at the bedclothes and sat up. “It’s a job, Evie.”

  She scooted across the bed until she was in front of him. The light of the half-moon shone through the open curtains and when the sheet she’d been trying to hold slipped away, Scott got a great look at her rose-tipped breasts. His body stirred instantly and he grazed the back of his hand over one nipple.

  “Stop doing that,” she said, probably not as sharp as she wanted as she pulled back. “I want to talk with you. Don’t distract me.”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “You’re distracting me,” he assured her as he looked at her breasts.

  Evie unexpectedly reached out and touched his face, lifting his cheek upward so their eyes met. “Tell me why you really became a firefighter.”

  Scott took a breath. “Because I wanted to run into burning buildings.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” he asked. “It’s what you believe, anyway—isn’t it?’

  “I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “Believe it,” he said, but the truth suddenly jumped around in his head. He reached for her, dragging her against him as he pushed back against the pillows. Enough talk, he thought. Enough truth. He took her mouth in a searing kiss that was so hot it practically scorched the air between them. Her mouth was sweet and tempting and luscious. He’d kiss her and forget the days were closing in. He’d make love with her and disregard the taunting voice in the back of his mind reminding him that the heaven he’d found in Evie’s arms was only ever going to be temporary. She would let him go. And he would have to leave and return to reality.

  * * *

  Evie got home to an empty house on the Tuesday after Christmas. When she reached the upstairs kitchen she found a note stuck near the telephone written in her son’s neat handwriting. Have gone out with Scott—be back later.

  Evie’s heart stilled. Trevor was with Scott. And Scott, she knew, was at the Emergency Services Station, speaking with the volunteers and the local Rural Fire Brigade.

  Anger quickly filled her blood and she grabbed her car keys.

  He wouldn’t do that. Surely he’d know I’d never agree to that.

  The drive took only a few minutes. Evie parked outside and jumped out of the car. She saw Scott’s motorcycle and the vehicles of the other volunteers. Her blood pumped, her thoughts suddenly centered on Trevor being here, with these people. These people I’ve considered the enemy for ten years. Maybe not consciously, but in her secret place, her darkest heart.

  She reached the doorway and stood beneath the threshold. The big shed was filled with people and she felt the gut-wrenching pain she always felt when confronted with this place. She always stayed outside, never going into the big, cold building with its corrugated walls and concrete floor. Memories bombarded Evie’s thoughts. Memories of Gordon’s lifeless body lying on the floor—and thoughts of well-meaning colleagues hovering around him, trying to revive him, trying to bring him back.

  By the time Evie had arrived, he’d gone. There were no goodbyes. Just his battered body left stretched out on the cold floor, covered in a plastic tarp so she wouldn’t see the extent of his injuries.

  She hated this place.

  There was a group of people behind the fire truck, positioned in a half arc. Scott stood in the center beside a long white board and was talking to the Rural Fire Brigade volunteers in a quiet voice. She loved his voice, loved hearing him whisper things to her as they made love. Loved hearing him say she was beautiful, desirable...loved the soft pleas of encouragement against her skin when she touched him a certain way or in a certain place.

  But he wasn’t speaking those words now. Now he was all-business, pure firefighter and every inch the man who risked his life daily because that was his job. Evie watched for a moment, half absorbed, half repulsed. Until she spotted Trevor. Her son was listening intently and wearing a yellow jacket, the same type of high-visibility gear the volunteers wore.

  She saw red immediately. “Trevor?” About a dozen sets of eyes zoomed in on her, including her son’s. But it was Scott’s gaze she felt snap through her with blistering intensity. He stared at her, frowning, and she turned immediately back to her son. “Let’s go home.”

  The silence continued. Everyone there knew her of course—she was poor Evie Dunn who’d lost her husband. They offered pity in their stares and it made her so mad she wanted to shout and tell them they were all reckless fools.

  “But I was just—”

  Evie raised her hand and beckoned him forward. “Come on,” she said, before she swiveled on her heels and headed back to the car with Trevor in tow. He was complaining, but Evie was in no mood to listen. She told him to take off the jacket and he handed it to her after a few seconds of resistance.

  �
�Evie, wait up.”

  She stilled instantly, told Trevor to get into the car and then turned and took the dozen or so steps to reach Scott. “How could you do it?” she demanded, her voice higher than she wanted, her heart pounding the blood through her veins.

  “How could I do what?”

  Evie glared at him, so angry she could barely get the words out. “How could you bring my son here?”

  He looked at her oddly. “I don’t—”

  “You had no right,” she said, and pushed away the hotness behind her eyes. “I don’t want him here with these people.”

  “What people?”

  Evie pointed toward the building. “The people who knew his father. People who did what Gordon did. People who were with him that night.”

  “Evie,” he said quietly, “I had no intention of—”

  “Don’t you get it?” she snapped, and tossed the jacket into his chest. He caught it immediately. “I don’t want him here.” She waved her arms. “He can’t want this like his father did. I don’t want him to be like Gordon. And I certainly don’t want him to be like you.”

  * * *

  The pain in Evie’s voice cut through Scott. “I don’t want him to be like you.” He wasn’t sure what to think. He heard her anguish and fought the instinctive urge to take her in his arms.

  “Evie, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I didn’t realize you’d have a problem with Trevor coming with me.”

  She made a huffing sound. “You should have asked permission. He’s my son.”

  “He asked to come with me,” Scott explained. “I didn’t drag him here.”

  “He’s a child. My child!” She crossed her arms jerkily, her anger palpable. “And I decide where he goes and who he goes with.”

  “Okay,” he said, feeling less than agreeable but refusing to trade any more heated words with her while they were out in the open and at risk of being overheard, not only by Trevor but also by the dozen volunteers inside the shed. “We can talk about this later.”

  She seemed to calm for a moment, and took a step forward. But she wasn’t calm at all, he noticed; she was furious—and all her fury was absolutely aimed toward him. “Don’t try to pacify me, Scott.” She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “You can play superhero with these people all you like—but don’t ever involve my son.”

  “Superhero?” he echoed incredulously. “What does that mean?”

  “You know exactly. I saw you in there. You were holding court with the volunteers, and they were listening to you like you’re some kind of fire god. Well, maybe to them you are. But not to me.” She tossed her hair. “To me you’re just...just...you’re...”

  Scott wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. “I’m what?”

  She glared at him and whispered, “A mistake.” With a spin, she turned away and stomped toward her small car. Scott watched wordlessly as she flung herself inside and drove off.

  He remained where he was, feeling her words like a fist to his gut. After a moment, he turned around to find Cameron Jakowski standing a few feet away. He shrugged.

  “If it makes you feel better,” Cameron said quietly, “it’s more about what happened here than you letting Trev tag along. Gordon was brought here the night he died.”

  Scott’s stomach rolled. He pointed to the building. “Here?”

  Cameron nodded. “Yeah. It was a pretty bad scene that night. There was no chance of the paramedics getting to him in time—his injuries were too extensive. He was crushed between two trailers at the holiday park. They brought him here and this is where he died.”

  Scott felt a burning pressure gather behind his ribs. He left about an hour later determined to straighten the mess out with Evie.

  It was well past six o’clock when he returned to Dunn Inn. The big house seemed eerily quiet. The lights from the Christmas tree blinked through the front window, and he headed for the room when he spotted Evie’s unmistakable silhouette moving back and forth through the curtains.

  “Can we talk?”

  She was by the sofa, fluffing cushions, and didn’t stop her task as she spoke. “I’d rather not.”

  Scott took a few steps into the room. “Well, how about I talk and you listen?”

  That got her attention and she stopped what she was doing. “Okay...talk.”

  Scott pushed down the annoyance in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Fine,” she said tersely, and continued moving pillows. “You’re sorry.”

  “Cameron told me about your husband.”

  She looked across the room. “He did? And what did he say? That Gordon’s body was left at that place for seven hours? That I wasn’t allowed to see him because his injuries were so bad? That his blood-soaked jacket was lying on the floor for everyone to see? The same kind of jacket Trevor was wearing tonight. Or that I had to tell my five-year-old son his daddy wouldn’t be coming home?”

  Scott chose his words carefully. “It must have been a difficult time.”

  “It was the worst moment of my life.”

  “And seeing Trevor there brought it all back?”

  “Yes. And I don’t want my son involved in that life.”

  Scott took a few steps toward her. “But if that’s what he chooses, Evie, all you can really do is support him.”

  “Are you a parenting expert now?”

  It was such an unlike-Evie thing to say that Scott felt the sting of it through to his bones. “No—but I know you can’t make someone be something they’re not.”

  Evie raised her chin. “My son is going to college, and then he’ll choose whatever career suits him. He won’t be risking his life pursing pointless adventure.”

  A kernel of resentment sprouted inside him. She was so wrong. “I hardly think that an Emergency Services volunteer is looking for pointless adventure—it takes a certain kind of selflessness to risk one’s own life to ensure the safety of someone else.”

  “Well, you would think that,” she said, not looking the least bit convinced. “But I know most of those people that were there this afternoon. They were Gordon’s friends—they’re the same people he used to bungee jump with and deep-sea-dive with and when they had a chance would climb every rock face they could find. They have the same rogue gene he had—that need to push to the limit, to try something purely because it was dangerous.” She sat down on the sofa. “That’s not a legacy I want my son to inherit.”

  So her husband had an adventurous spirit. It began to make sense to him now. “It was a bad storm that killed your husband, Evie, not extreme sports.”

  “It was the thrill,” she said coolly. “The thrill of beating human mortality. Wasn’t your own father one of them? I should think you’d understand my determination to keep Trevor away from those people.”

  “I do understand. But I also know that the volunteers I was with this afternoon are good people who care for their community and want to give something back. They’re not thrill seekers, Evie.”

  “I know them,” she said quietly. “I know what makes them tick. I know that on the night of the cyclone, Gordon couldn’t wait to get out there—he couldn’t wait to put on his jacket and face the elements. Because he had no fear and no concern for the consequences. He wanted to fix everything, and in the end he couldn’t do the one thing he should have done...kept himself safe...kept himself part of our family. He broke our family apart because he had this need to protect everyone around him.”

  Realization landed squarely on Scott’s shoulders. “Is that why you’re so angry? Because he left you that night? Are you mad at him because he went out when he should have stayed home to protect you?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Yes. I don’t know.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and seemed so incredibly vulnerable Scott had to fight his urge to hold
her. “I imagine the last thing he expected was that he wouldn’t come home to you.”

  She looked up and met his gaze head-on. “You think I’m being irrational?”

  “I think you’re...hurting...and maybe a bit misguided.”

  His words clearly struck a chord because her eyes shone with tears. “I knew you’d never really understand how I feel about this stuff.”

  “I do understand, Evie.”

  “How could you? You’re a firefighter. Your whole life is a risk. You said yourself that you’d have to quit if you wanted...if you ever wanted something else...more than just the job.”

  The idea of having more than just the job suddenly seemed very real. And quitting? Scott felt the weight of his words stomp between his shoulder blades. “I know what I said. I watched my friend die because he wanted both...and I watched my father give up time with his family because he was obsessed with his mountains. But the people you think are going to corrupt your son into wanting to risk his life—they’re just out to do their bit for their community. I don’t think they have lofty ideals about adventure or pushing themselves to the limits for the thrill of it. You’re wrong about them, Evie. And you’re wrong to not allow your son to get to know his father’s friends.”

  She took a deep breath and glared at him through her tears. “I’m wrong because I want to keep my son safe?”

  “You’re wrong because you assume everyone’s motivation is the same.” Scott rested his hands on the back of the sofa. “Do you want to know why I joined the fire department, Evie? Not so I could fulfill some desire for adventure or because I wanted to put my life on the line to satisfy an egotistical need to prove I’m immortal—I joined because I wanted a profession my father would be proud of.”

  The words seemed truer now than they ever had before, and Scott forced back the lump of emotion suddenly clogging his throat. “He worked behind a desk his whole life, and a couple of times a year he’d take off for his mountains. And each time I’d wonder if this was the last time I’d see him. He wanted me to go with him, he wanted to share it with me, but I was just a scared kid who spent most of my time with my head in a book or playing football. I never went with him. I never got to understand what drew him to risk his life every time he climbed. By the time I’d gotten past my boyhood fears and thought that maybe I could go with him, he was dead. So I joined the LAFD and I thought in some way, from wherever he was, he might know I wasn’t afraid anymore.”