Wedding Bells in Christmas

by Debbie Mason

  She tried the door. Locked. Clenching her jaw, she dragged the suitcase behind her and headed for the garage, which he’d left open. As soon as she stepped inside, she heard Cujo. She searched for something to protect herself and grabbed a broom off a hook on the wall.

  The barking intensified as she inched open the door. She stuck her head into the bright and airy mudroom, searching for signs of the dog. From deep within the house, she heard scratching and the sound of something being thrown against a door. Chance must have locked her in a room. Vivi relaxed and rested the broom against the wall, then took off her boots. Her first impression as she walked farther into the house was that Chance didn’t believe in roughing it. Everything was high-end: leather, wood, and stone. Masculine-looking with no sign of a woman’s touch.

  Dust motes floated on beams of sunlight that streamed through a wall of windows in a living room that overlooked a stone patio with a fire pit. Crocuses, tulips, and small green shoots poked through the dark earth lining a meandering pea-gravel path that led to a wooden dock jutting onto a pristine lake. Stunning view if someone enjoyed the great outdoors. She found it too isolated and, oddly enough, given the large, open space, claustrophobic. Maybe the heavy, disused smell in the cabin made it feel that way.

  She moved toward the kitchen with its stainless steel appliances and dark oak cabinets. Skimming her hand along the cold granite countertops, she took note of the red ceramic container crammed full with every cooking utensil imaginable. No wonder Chance had teased her about her apartment’s woefully inadequate kitchen when they’d cooked together.

  Seeing his home made her wonder if everything he’d told her had been a lie. They’d had so much in common, they’d seemed the perfect match. They enjoyed the same books and the same movies. They liked to talk politics and read the newspaper together. She’d opened up to him, told him about her family, about her mother. She’d never told anyone about her mother, not even Maddie and Skye.

  She’d told him everything, and he’d told her nothing.

  What she’d had with him had been an illusion. What Kate had had with him had been real. They’d been in love for years. If Vivi’s memories of their brief affair together caused a heavy weight in her chest, she could only imagine what Chance had dealt with for the last five years. No wonder he chose not to.

  She kicked her suitcase to get the wheels in motion and headed toward the hall she suspected led to the bedrooms. The thumping and scratching got louder. She banged on the door. “Quiet, Cujo.”

  Moving on, she glanced into the adjacent room. Uh, no, she was not staying in here. It was obviously the master bedroom. A king-size bed with a rustic plank head and footboard took up the middle of the room. She walked farther down the hall, opening the door to a third bedroom. As her gaze cataloged the room’s contents, she sagged against the doorjamb.

  She now knew the reason why the cabin held no visible signs of Kate. She was here, in the boxes half-filled with feminine clothing and mementos that lay scattered across the white shag carpet. Framed photos of a smiling Kate and Chance were piled on a white dresser. And most heartbreaking of all, beneath a window dressed with pink eyelet curtains sat a white rocker and white wooden cradle overflowing with knitted blankets and stuffed animals.

  Vivi briefly closed her eyes. This was to be the nursery for the child Chance had lost along with his wife. Feeling like an intruder on his life, his grief, she quickly shut the door. She leaned against it, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal, nearly jumping out of her skin when a pitiful whimpering filled the hallway. It took her a moment to realize the sound hadn’t come from a ghost; it was Kate’s dog. Vivi imagined it was as hard for Princess to be back here as it was for Chance.

  Once again a pang of unwanted sympathy tightened her chest, and Vivi dropped her bags outside Chance’s bedroom. “It’s okay, Princess. Don’t cry. I’ll let you out.” Edging the door open, she forced a smile for the dog with its pink-bowed topknot and sparkly pink collar. “There you…” Princess snarled, lunging at Vivi’s stocking feet.

  “No, let go!” She tried shaking off the vicious little beast. The dog whipped its head back and forth, pulling Vivi’s sock off. While Cujo was busy tearing the gray wool to shreds, Vivi grabbed her carry-on and hightailed it down the hall.

  Yip. Yip. Yip. Cujo chased her. Vivi ran into the kitchen and made a mad leap for the counter. She pulled up her feet, grabbing a wooden spoon from the ceramic container to brandish at the dog. “Get away. Shoo.”

  While the dog jumped up and down, barking, she dug in her carry-on for her phone. She tried to call Maddie. No service. Holding the phone at arm’s length, Vivi waved it around the room to get reception. Nothing. Maybe there would be service down by the dock. Somehow, she had to get outside. All she had to do was distract Cujo.

  She pulled off her other sock, preparing to book it as soon as she fired it into the living room. “Look Cujo, look.” Vivi waved her arms. “Yum, a nice sweaty sock for you.” When she got the dog’s attention, its black, serial-killer eyes staring up at her, she flung the sock across the room and slid off the counter. At the sound of Cujo’s frenzied attack, Vivi sprinted for the mudroom, grabbing her boots on the way. She got the door open…

  “No,” she cried as a ball of black-and-white fur shot past her.

  * * *

  Chance turned down Main Street, slowing outside the Penalty Box, the town’s local sports bar. As he considered stopping in for a drink, an image of the panicked look on Vivi’s face came to him, and he hit the gas instead. They hadn’t been together long, but in that short time he’d learned a lot about her. She was a city girl through and through. She’d done him a favor. She didn’t deserve to be left on her own while he drowned his sorrows.

  He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. At least he no longer had the shakes. The case of beer rattled in the backseat, reminding him of his plan for the night. He’d get shitfaced with Vivi. It was about the only way he figured he’d be able to deal with staying at the cabin. He knew it would be hard. He just hadn’t expected it to be as hard as it was. If only he hadn’t opened the door to the nursery.

  He turned up the radio, drowning out the last conversation he’d had with Kate about the baby. Pushing the memories back to where they belonged. Locking them away. Emptying his mind. He opened the window, letting the cool mountain air rush over him. Breathing in the earthy scent of spring and pine trees. He’d missed that smell. There was nothing like it in the world.

  The tension in his shoulders eased as he turned onto… Fuck. Mountain Road. He pressed the gas, taking the serpentine curves faster than he should, the wind whistling through the truck’s cab. He flipped the radio’s volume as high as it would go. He was nearly home free. Five minutes more and he’d be in the clear.

  Four minutes.

  Three minutes.

  Two… Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He eased off the gas and slammed on the brakes. The truck fishtailed, sending up a spray of gravel before coming to a jarring stop.

  Princess, looking small and forlorn, sat beside the now-repaired guardrail.

  His breathing a strangled rasp, Chance got out of the truck, focusing on his feet as he strode to Princess’s side. No matter how hard he tried not to look, he did. He saw the rocks, the bark stripped clean from the blackened trees where Kate’s car had ended up when she’d crashed through the guardrail in the snowstorm and rolled down the hill. A passerby had stopped, pulling her from the wreckage before the car burst into flames. Hours later, both she and their baby girl were dead. Only Princess had escaped unscathed that night.

  The dog shivered and whined at his feet. Maybe she hadn’t been unscathed after all. Maybe she was as messed up as Chance. He bent down to pick her up, and that’s when he saw the white cross with Kate’s and Emma’s names etched into the wood. Timeworn pink plastic flowers lay half-buried in the gravel at the base of the cross. Chance slowly lowered himself to the ground, cradling the dog against his
chest where the smothering ache continued to build.

  Somewhere in the distance, he heard an animal’s mournful howl. Over and over again, the animal wailed until Chance’s throat felt raw. He closed his eyes. The sound had been coming from him. Burying his face in Princess’s fur, he rocked back and forth, silently railing at God for taking the two most precious things in the world from him. It should have been him. If not for his unrelenting pursuit of Jake Callahan, Kate and Emma would be alive. He should have killed Callahan when he had the chance.

  It was the sound of cars whizzing by, Princess licking his wet face, that finally drew Chance back from the abyss. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it was time to move on before someone called the sheriff. All he’d need was for Gage to find him here… like this. He stood and dusted off his jeans. Goddamn Vivi, it was her fault he’d had to relive that moment, that day, that month, that year. What the hell was she thinking letting the dog out? If anything had happened to Princess…

  By the time Chance pulled into the garage, anger rolled off him in waves. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a handle on it. He sat in his truck, waiting for the emotion to subside. When he finally regained a semblance of control, he opened the driver’s-side door. In the distance, he heard Vivi and followed the sound of her raspy voice. She was in the woods west of the cabin.

  “Cujo, come here. I’ve got a nice, sweaty sock for you. Yum. Yum. Come on, Cujo.”

  Chance rubbed his jaw. “She doesn’t like you much, does she, Princess?” Through the trees he saw her yellow boots and headed toward her. “Slick, I’ve got—”

  She was on her knees, digging in a snow-covered bush. “Be a good doggie. No biting, okay?” she said, as she started pulling something…

  Jesus. “Vivi, don’t—”

  Chapter Five

  Vivi walked from the bathroom to the master bedroom wrapped in a towel. She stopped short at the sight of a clean-shaven Chance sitting on the side of the bed in jeans and a white shirt, drinking a beer. “Do not even think about laughing,” she warned him.

  He grinned, lowering the bottle from his mouth. “Come on, Slick. You have to admit it was funny.”

  “Easy for you to say, you weren’t the one sprayed by a skunk.” As she stepped into the room, she glanced at her fingers holding the towel in place. “Look at me, I’m shriveled up like a ten-year-old prune.” She sighed as his eyes took a slow tour of every inch of damp skin the towel revealed. “I didn’t mean that literally, you know. Go.” She flicked her fingers. “I have to get dressed.” And she had to stop remembering what had happened every time he’d looked at her that way. What he’d say. What he’d do.

  He set the bottle on the nightstand and came to his feet. “Dad called. Larry, the pharmacist, must have told him about your run-in with Pepé Le Pew. He wants me to check and make sure you weren’t scratched.”

  “You’re as bad as your aunt. Why didn’t you just take out an ad in the paper?” she grumbled as she went to unzip her suitcase sitting on the oak floor. Realizing the view she’d provide, she straightened.

  “I didn’t say anything to Larry. He figured it out when I cleaned him out of baking soda and hydrogen peroxide. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Slick.” His mouth kicked up at the corner as he ambled toward her. “You can’t help that you’re farsighted and mistook a skunk for a Yorkie.”

  “I’m not farsighted, and you know it.” She took a nervous step back. Her half-naked and Chance with a teasing look on his gorgeous face was a dangerous combination. She held up a hand. “No scratches or bites, see? Besides, I got a good look at Pepé before I threw him, and he wasn’t foaming at the mouth. So you can go now.”

  “ ’Fraid not. Dad was adamant.” He stood in front of her, sucking up all the oxygen from the room. Her heart pitter-pattered when he took her hand, stroking his long fingers up and down her arm. Then he turned her hand over to trace circles from her inner wrist all the way up her arm. Goose bumps raised on her skin when his knuckles brushed against her breast. She suppressed a shiver. “It’s cold in here, don’t you think?”

  He lifted his hooded gaze, releasing her hand to feather his fingers over her collarbone. “I was thinking it was kind of hot.”

  The way his callused yet gentle fingers drifted to the edge of the towel was hot. The way his eyes caressed her face was really hot. The way his warm breath heated her cheek as he lowered his face to her hair was really, really hot and made her wonder if he wanted her right now as much as she wanted him. After what she’d witnessed today, she couldn’t believe the thought had popped into her head. Was it possible that he still wanted her? Sure it was; he was a man. But she wanted a man who loved her. And Chance McBride couldn’t give her what she wanted. Not now. Maybe not ever. She cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”

  He rubbed his face in her hair. “Checking to make sure the solution worked.”

  She couldn’t help herself, she leaned into all that hard muscle and warmth. Maybe love is overrated, her crazy side thought. Don’t you dare, her sane side berated, you deserve more than being a replacement for the woman he really wants. She placed her palms on his wide chest and pushed. “It did.” She sidestepped him. “I have to get dressed or we’ll be late.”

  He gave his bowed head a slight shake before raising his gaze. “Late for what?”

  “Everyone’s going to Maddie and Gage’s to help with the wedding favors. Your dad told you—”

  He walked to the nightstand and picked up his beer. “Not happening.”

  “Ah, yeah, it is.” She put her hands on her hips. “If I have to go, so do you.”

  “You don’t have to go. We’ll tell them the eau de Pepé hasn’t worn off yet.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he laughed. “Come on, you don’t really want to go. It’s the perfect excuse. We’ll hang out here, have a few beers, and pull a Die Hard marathon. I got you Rocky Road ice cream.” He waggled his eyebrows at the mention of her once-favorite ice cream. She’d eaten so much of it during her he-just-wasn’t-into-you funk that the sight of the flavor now made her sick.

  And she’d probably end up feeling the same way if she agreed to share a night like he’d just described. It had been one of her favorite ways to spend time with him. Only the evening wouldn’t have the same ending. “Good try. Your family’s expecting you.” She nodded at his beer. “How many have you had?”

  “A couple.”

  Which probably explained his flirty behavior. “Fine, I’ll drive.”

  “You are not driving my truck.” He headed out of the room. “And I’m not going. Call your girls for a ride.”

  The last thing he needed was to be left on his own. “I am not calling my girls. You’re going, and I’m driving.” She put her hand on the door to close it behind him.

  He backtracked, his stocking feet brushing up against her bare toes. “You’re starting to piss me off, Slick. Careful or I’ll let Princess out of her pen.”

  She had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “You either go or our fake relationship is over. And, McBride, you don’t want to test me. I have not had a great day.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “So are you.”

  “Guess we’re the perfect match, then.”

  * * *

  Chance scowled at her from the passenger side of his truck. “You’re on a residential street, woman. Slow the hell down!”

  “Stop yelling at me! You’re making me nervous.” Probably as nervous as he had been after he’d made his perfect match comment. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Which had been fine by her because, really, what was she supposed to say? I thought we were, too.

  “Yeah, well, you’re making me crazy. I’ll have to take the truck into the garage tomorrow and have them check the… Jesus, you really do need to have your eyes checked. You just drove past Gage’s street.”

  Vivi slammed on the brakes and put the truck in Reverse, ignoring Chance’s pi
ssed-off look as she turned onto his brother’s street. He’d been in a mood ever since they’d left the cabin, and it had nothing to do with her driving. “You know pouting isn’t attractive on a grown man, don’t you?”

  “I’m not pouting, smart-ass.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  He stared out the window, the light from the streetlamps illuminating the hard angles of his face. “Cut me some slack, will you? Today hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park.”

  She winced as she thought about what he’d dealt with over the last several hours and pulled in front of the McBrides’ stone bungalow. Shutting off the engine, she shifted in the seat. She wanted to stroke the tension from his clenched jaw. Instead, she reached for his hand. “I know. I’m sorry, Chance. I’m so sorry you lost Kate and the baby. I can only imagine how difficult the past five years have been. How difficult today was for you.” It was something she should have said earlier. But she’d been uncomfortable intruding on his grief. He’d never shared his real life or his loss with her. “If there’s anything I can do to make this easier for you, I will.”

  He turned from the window, an unreadable emotion in his eyes as his gaze roamed her face. Then his mouth curved and he lifted his hand, threading his fingers through her hair. She let out a small, surprised gasp when he drew her closer. “You already have, Slick,” he murmured.

  His lips were tender against hers. No tongue or crazy passion, just a gentle touch. He kissed the side of her mouth, then nibbled lightly. Warmth flooded her body as his hand wandered over her before settling on her waist. He sifted the fingers of his other hand through her hair to caress the back of her neck. When he slanted his head and deepened the kiss, she pressed against him, unable to contain her breathy moan. Proof, she supposed, that she wanted him as much as she ever did. Maybe more because she now saw the man behind the mask.