by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
“Amen.” Meier causally glanced up and purposely met Faith’s eyes. But only for a split second before she jumped away from the window.
Meier grinned. Oh yeah. She’d call.
“Hey,” Dwayne said, “I should have said this first thing, but your mention of press reminded me—thanks for agreeing to be the ice-sculpture judge this year. The posters are being printed right now. The team will be slapping them up all over the county—”
“Wait—what?” Meier’s attention swung back to Dwayne, sure he’d missed something while his mind had been on Faith and the great fit of her worn jeans. He’d garnered a whole new appreciation for the simplicity of a gorgeous country girl while he’d been enjoying her quick wit. “What’s this about ice sculptures?”
“You haven’t been gone that long. You remember, the biggest draw of the Winter Wonderland Festival? We add a new category every year, but once word got out that you were judging, the entries poured in. That money helps with the hockey team’s travel and uniform expenses. But it’s looking like we’ll have enough to put together a training camp over the Christmas break next year.”
Meier was definitely missing something. “This is the first I’ve heard of any judging commitment. And, hey, if it’s for you and the kids, you know I’ll do it. But how did this come up?”
Dwayne’s expression clicked from happy to deer-in-the-headlights to confusion. “Your mama told me she got the okay from you on judging last week.”
Which would have been about the time Meier had finally given in to his mother’s nagging to come home for Christmas. Anger started to simmer beneath his skin. “My mama.”
“This is one of your mama’s biggest fundraisers for the Art League. Even a portion of the proceeds from the ice carving goes to her charity.”
“Don’t you love life’s little ironies, Dwayne?” Meier exhaled, then set his feet and crossed his arms. “After a lifetime of downgrading any of my accomplishments in hockey—including a scholarship I rode for two years before I went pro—she’s now using the fame I’ve developed in the sport she’s never valued and always hated, a sport she has never come to watch me play, not one goddamned game—to benefit her own interests.”
“Hey, if it’s a problem—” Dwayne started.
“No, Dwayne. It’s never a problem for you and the kids. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help. You know that.”
“That means a lot to me, kid.” Dwayne smiled, but he looked troubled. His gaze traveled to Meier’s SUV. “Quite a ride you got there. That a Range Rover? What did that set you back, a hundred grand?”
A hundred and a half, but he said, “Something like that.”
“Hey, picked a doozy of a tree there. What’s that, a ten footer?”
“Twelve,” he said, glancing at the monster atop his vehicle.
“Must be for your mama, then.”
“Got that right.”
“Glad you bought it from Faith. She’s had a real hard year.” Dwayne’s gaze turned on the hardware store, his brow pulled in concern. Meier took a glance up to see if Faith was still watching, but the light was out now.
“Since her daddy passed, she’s been handling everything herself,” Dwayne went on. “Was a blessing in a lot of ways. Stew had been battling the cancer for so long. Made a real good run of it. There was a year or two he and Faith thought he was going to beat it, but then it came back meaner than ever.”
Meier’s stomach dropped. “When did he pass?”
“’Bout six months ago, but like I said, he’d been fightin’ it for a long time. It wasn’t a surprise. He was ready to go. Faith, well, she never would have been ready. But it was long past time she got on with her own life. It ate at her daddy how much she gave up for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He got the news her first year in college. She came home that summer and never went back. That boy she went with all through high school… Well, let’s just say he didn’t let no grass grow under his feet. He brought the new girlfriend home with him from college the following Christmas break.”
Meier winced. “Ouch.”
Dwayne made a sympathetic sound in his throat. “She was at her daddy’s side every day since she came home. They’ve had more than a few arguments over her putting her life on hold to nurse him, but she always won.” Dwayne chuckled. “A fighter, that one. Once she sets her mind to something, ain’t no one gonna change it. Reminds me a lot of you that way.” He patted Meier’s arm. “I’m gonna let you go before you turn into an icicle, kid.”
“Sure, sure.” Meier pushed off his SUV far more subdued than when he’d first spotted Dwayne, and pulled the older man into a bear hug. “I’ll see you soon, right?”
“I’m always here, son.”
“Need a ride home?” he asked, stepping back.
“No, thanks. These nightly walks are my quiet time with Mary Ann.”
Meier nodded at the mention of his late wife. “Breakfast tomorrow, then? Seven a.m.? Shelly’s? I’m buyin’.”
Dwayne grinned. “Then I’ll be there.”
Meier rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, his mind swamped with all the new information Dwayne had disclosed in such a short amount of time. A lot of people thought he rambled. But if they took the time to listen, they’d figure out the man said a hell of a lot.
Meier turned the engine over, backed out, and started home. Facing his parents pushed his turbulent feelings about Faith and her father to the background, because Meier didn’t know how to feel or what to think about everything he’d just learned. Right now, all he could focus on was what he could understand—his mother and her charity.
He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. Shouldn’t give a damn, but he was pissed.
And by the time he pulled into his parents’ driveway again, he was damn good and ready to bail on the festival and leave a check in Dwayne’s mailbox instead.
He pulled the tree onto his shoulder, pushed through the front door, and turned into the living room, then immediately dropped the tree, spreading ice and pine needles everywhere.
Dual gasps touched his ears before he looked up.
“Meier Grant,” his mother scolded. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
“You” was what he wanted to say, but he held his tongue as his gaze settled on the young woman sitting on the next cushion—Natalie Duboix, the oldest daughter of Dad’s business partner and two years younger than Meier. The two families had been trying to set Meier and Natalie up for years, more so during college, hoping she would persuade him to return to the fold. And the fact that she was sitting here now only made Meier angrier.
“What’s going on?” His father came in from the next room. “What in the hell happened here?” He spread his hands, indicating the mess of the tree but didn’t wait for an answer before his glare turned on Meier. “Clean up that mess right now.”
“I’ll clean up my mess if you clean up yours.”
“Meier,” his mother called his attention with a cutting shape-up-right-this-second attitude in her voice, “you remember Natalie. She’s been organizing Winter Wonderland for years now, and we were just talking about the possibility of you presenting the keynote speech at the banquet that always wraps up the festival.”
“The answer to that would be no. Just like the answer would have been no to me judging the ice-sculpting contest had I been asked. In fact, if I’d known I was going to be manipulated while I was here, I wouldn’t have come at all.”
Natalie cast a dry smile at Hazel and squeezed her hand. “I’ll just give you all some family time.”
She stood and walked toward Meier, or rather sashayed. Her tight, fitted skirt made it impossible for her to walk normally. Her heels were spiked, and her blouse see-through with something lace beneath.
Just when Meier thought Natalie would walk past without comment, she stopped beside him and slipped her arm around his, hugging his bicep against her breasts and surrounding him in a bubble of powdery perfume. Looking d
own into those big, crystal-blue eyes, Meier was acutely aware of how beautiful she’d become over the years. Perfect, creamy skin, smooth, even makeup, straight, pearly white teeth. Even every deep brown strand of her hair was curled just so.
She reeked of money and connections and easy sex. And reminded Meier of every woman he’d dated over the years. Some of the guys went for the girl next door, some went for party girls, some went for kink. Meier went for superficial. Women who were dating him to get something out of the association—fame, publicity, a connection. That way, their time together became a sort of pleasurable business deal—he got sex, they got whatever they’d hooked up with him for, and everyone came out of it happy.
“You look better than ever.” Her voice was soft and alluring. “I see you on the news doing all sorts of great things for charity. Your generosity is one of the things I adore most about you. And you’ll be doing a lot of good right here in your home town if you participate.” Her grin grew and gleamed. “You can bet I’ll be here to keep you company.”
She squeezed his arm before continuing through the living room and out the front door, escorted by his father.
As soon as the door closed behind Natalie, his mother turned an icy glare on Meier. “What in God’s name has gotten into you?”
“Eight years,” he said, forcing his voice down so Natalie wouldn’t hear through the many windows that looked out over the property. “You’ve been nagging me to come home for the holidays for eight years. And when I finally do, I find out the only reason you wanted me here was so you could use my name to rake in money for your charity. That’s what’s gotten into me.”
“Watch it,” his father warned, returning to the living room. “We gave you that name.”
“You might have named me, but I earned the reputation behind the name—despite you.”
His father’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth.
“Just calm down, everyone,” Hazel said. “Let’s take a second to put everything into perspective.”
“I’ve got it all in perfect perspective, and it’s damned ironic,” Meier told her. “After decades of disappointment, you now need me and the fame I’ve earned through the sport you hate to pull in money for your charity, so you can look like hot shit to people in this town.”
“You will not talk to your mother like that—”
He swung toward his father. “I’m talking to you too, Dad. You’re no better.”
“Get out.” His father stabbed his index finger at the door. “Right now.”
Before Meier could even take a step toward the door, his mother said, “No. He’s right.” She looked up and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, Meier. You’re right. In my defense, I have always wanted you home to have the family together, but when I heard you could make it this year, I did leverage your visit for the good of the community. And while your success hasn’t come in the way your father and I had hoped, there is no denying you have reached incredible heights in your career.
“Regardless of whether I care for hockey or not, as your mother, I’m proud. So, yes, I want you out there front and center, where everyone can see what a success you’ve made of your life.”
No. She wanted him out there front and center so she could brag about him. So she could take some sort of credit for getting him to where he was now, when the truth was that he’d had to fight his parents every step of the way to get to this point in his career.
But he knew that look in her eyes. She wholeheartedly believed what she was saying. And there was no point in trying to get her to see that she was still lying to herself. As for his father, Meier already knew the man would go to his grave disappointed that his youngest son had gone rogue and deserted the family business.
Bottom line: Meier would always be considered a loss to his parents, no matter what he achieved.
“Please stay, son,” his mother said. “You’ll be doing great things for your hometown. A lot of boys here look up to you.”
“Don’t try to guilt me, Mom. If I stay, I’m staying for Dwayne and the high school hockey team, because you’re right, there are people here who respect what it took for me to get where I am. And I do want to help those people.” He bent, picked up the tree, and dragged it toward the front window, where their Christmas tree had reached toward the open-beamed ceilings for as long as he could remember. “And for the last time, forget about fixing me up with Natalie. I’m not staying in town, and no one is going to change my mind about what I do for a living.”
He gripped the netting and took out his frustration on the nylon, ripping it open. “Now where do you want this damn thing?”
* * *
Meier spent every day of the next week working on projects around his parents’ house. While he was always looking for ways to stay away from his mom and dad, it was really only a fringe benefit to his real motive—having a reason to wander into Faith’s hardware store whenever he wanted. But he had to admit, his help around the house had softened the animosity lingering among the three of them since that first night. And once his brothers got there, it would probably just be another one of those nagging shadows hovering over his relationship with his parents.
He pulled into a parking spot at the end of the street and watched customers come and go from St. Nicholas Hardware. That was a great sign for Faith—the store was busy. Not so great for Meier—when she was busy, she barely gave him the time of day. On the occasions when it hadn’t been busy, he’d been able to cajole her into helping him get what he needed for whatever project he’d adopted. Though, he hadn’t been able to hold her interest any longer, which meant he hadn’t gotten an opportunity to drop his occupation as a professional hockey stud into their conversation. And she couldn’t have made any effort to investigate, because she hadn’t mentioned it.
He was both amused and annoyed that he’d been here four days, asked her out three more times, and been turned down each time. Yet she sent mixed messages at the strangest moments—a smile, a look, a comment.
Whatever else she happened to be, Faith Nicholas was very different from any woman he’d ever been interested in before. And he was sure the only reason he kept coming back was her impish little tendency to pretend he didn’t exist until he put himself directly in her way and forced her to acknowledge him.
Pocketing his keys, Meier pulled on his Braves ball cap and strolled toward the store, looking in the windows as he passed and returning friendly hellos from other pedestrians. That was something he did miss about small-town life. And, he had to admit, he also found a soothing sort of rhythm in being able to focus on a project. On the quiet country setting. On the sounds of nature.
He hadn’t realized he’d missed it until now.
Passing the Holly Jolly Chocolatier, Meier glanced at the artistic displays of chocolates in the windows. He was three steps past when his feet halted and spun him around almost before he understood why. But something he’d heard in the hardware store earlier this week triggered in his mind, and Meier backtracked, turning into the store.
He only had the door open three inches when the warm, chocolate scented air reached out and grabbed hold, dragging him in. He was having a Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory flashback when he closed the door behind him.
“Well, look who’s here.” Jemma came out of the back with her dark hair tied up in a ponytail, her bright blue eyes sparkling, and her white apron smeared with chocolate. “Heard you were back in town. How’s the big shot?”
He grinned. “Hey, Jemma. Man, you still look sixteen.”
“Oh, go on.”
“No, really. You’re throwing me back to high school, only in a much better way than the first time around.”
She laughed. “You’ve come a long way since high school. Got a lot to be proud of. Dwayne says you’re pitching in to help out the hockey team.”
“Word still travels fast around here.”
“Like lightning.”
Meier chuckled, hoping word of his identity had finally rea
ched Faith. “Happy to do it.”
“What can I get you? I have a fresh batch of that marzipan your mama loves. Makes a great stocking stuffer.”
“Sure, I’ll take some. Can never hurt to please my mom, right? But I’m here because I understand Faith has an addiction to your chocolate.”
“Faith.” Jemma lifted her brows and tried way too hard to look innocent. “Oh? Did she say what, exactly, she was addicted to?”
“No. I overheard her talking about it to a friend at the store. She’s given me a lot of help this week while I’ve been working on my parents’ house, and I was thinking I’d bring her something special. Something she likes.”
Jemma pursed her lips, scrunching them sideways, her gaze cast down.
He knew that look: the naughty, guilty one.
“I’m also trying to soften her up so she’ll let me take her out,” Meier added hopefully. “Some days, I swear I’m invisible.”
Jemma’s smooth brow pulled into a deep vee. “That’s not like Faith. You may not think she’s paying attention, but she knows everything that’s happening around her. Everything that’s happening in the store. When you think ‘mind like a steel trap,’ you think Faith.”
He was having a hard time seeing that. “Can you help me out?”
Ten minutes later, he jogged up the brick steps to St. Nicholas Hardware and pushed through the door to a chorus of loud male voices.
“Stop, both of you,” Faith cut in, her voice distinctly female and clearly authoritarian. But Meier had come to recognize the dry sarcasm edging her tone. “St. Nicholas Hardware is an inclusive safety zone for all fans, Wolfpack and Tar Heels alike.”
“What the hell does a ram have to do with being a Tar Heel anyway? And what kind of name is Rameses?” Leon Simms chided Tim Holloway, both long-time residents of Holly. “Those boys paint his horns blue? Doesn’t anyone call ASPCA? Or PETA?”
“It’s pronounced ram-sees, Tim, and you know it,” Faith said while she rang up and bagged his items. “Don’t be starting trouble for the sake of trouble, now.”
“That’s right,” Leon said. “Listen to the lady. She knows what she’s talkin’ ’bout.”