by Unknown
“Just a little.”
Mindy smiled. “Good. She’s not the only one at that.”
In the back room of the shop, Mindy hung up her coat, Sarah wriggled into hers and Jessica slid her own on, too. “I’m still leaving tomorrow.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Mindy replied.
“I know what you’re thinking and I know why you volunteered to help ring up sales. You’re hoping you can talk me out of this vacation.”
Mindy put a hand to her chest and feigned horror. “Who? Me? Try to talk you out of an incredibly stupid decision?”
Jessica laughed. “My bags are packed, my ticket’s bought and I am leaving no matter what.”
Sarah looked up at her. “How can you go away? You’re Mrs. Claus. Aren’t you supposed to put the angel on the tree at the winter thing? And who’s going to listen to my Christmas list? C.J. said you were going to come. Aren’t you?”
Mindy gave her a smile. “Yes, aren’t you?”
Jessica bent down to Sarah’s level. “There will be plenty of other people to do all those things, I’m sure. I have to take a trip this year.”
“You’re leaving?” Sarah sounded betrayed.
Jessica halted midstep, stunned. She thought of Sarah’s perspective. Just having lost her mother. Being introduced to a brand-new father. A whole lot of scary changes all at once. No wonder Sarah saw it that way.
Jessica knew scary. Remembered it well from her childhood and immediately regretted that Sarah had overheard the conversation with Mindy. The last thing this child needed was more upheaval.
“The only place I’m going right now is to buy a Christmas tree,” Jessica said, changing the subject and reaching forward to button the little girl’s coat. “And for that, I need a helper.”
“I can be a helper.”
“Good.” She plopped the girl’s red cap on her head, tugged it down over her ears, then rose. “Go get your boots. They’re by the door. I’ll be out in a second.”
With a grin and a nod, Sarah dashed out the door to do as she was told.
“Putting up a tree sounds a lot like celebrating Christmas to me,” Mindy said. “For someone who is trying to avoid the holiday, you seem to be running smack-dab into it.”
“One little tree is nothing more than that. A tree. And I’m only doing it because Sarah has never had a Christmas tree before. Kiki told Sarah they gave her a headache.”
The two of them exited the back room. Mindy paused after shutting the door and gave Jessica a smile. “I know you, Jessica. I know how you feel about Christmas trees. And kids. Mark my words. Before the last piece of tinsel is hung, you’ll be changing that plane ticket.”
Jessica dismissed Mindy’s words as she headed down Main Street with Sarah in tow. She was only buying the tree to give one little girl a bit of pine-scented magic.
If that was so, then why did she find herself humming a Christmas carol under her breath? What was with the smile that suddenly appeared on her face? And why was she so excited about picking out a silly tree?
They reached the busy corner of Main and Reed. The light changed, the walk signal flashed. “Ready, Sarah?”
The little girl beamed. Jessica wondered how she could have ever thought this child was a brat. “Abso-toot-ly.”
Jessica laughed. “Then let’s walk on down to the corner and pick out the fattest, greenest, tallest tree we can find.” She put out her hand.
Sarah hesitated, then put her palm into Jessica’s, her small hand delicate and fragile. She looked up, a question on her lips that she didn’t ask, then followed along, her fingers curling into Jessica’s with a shy grip that tightened with every step.
Something tugged at Jessica’s heart, causing her eyes to sting and her step to falter. It had to be the winter wind, the cold air skating under her coat.
Not the feeling of Sarah’s hand in hers and the momentary thought of what could have been, if only—
“Hey, where are you off to?”
Jessica turned to see C. J. Hamilton standing on the sidewalk, a grin on his face and a whole bunch of boxes stacked in the back of his truck. Some marked Fragile, others marked Special Delivery. He’d been up to something, that much was clear.
“We’re going to get a tree,” Sarah said. “A Christmas tree. Do you wanna come?”
For a moment Jessica wanted him to say no. Then she wanted him to say yes. Then she didn’t want to hear his answer, she just wanted to keep on walking and not have to deal with C.J. or the way looking at him reminded her—in living Technicolor and broad, sweeping sunshine—of how it felt to kiss him last night.
Or rather, how it felt when he kissed her.
And how many times the thought of her kissing him back had crossed her mind before she’d finally fallen asleep.
“Picking out a Christmas tree, huh?” he said. “I have a whole lot to do today, to get this town ready for one heck of a Winterfest tomorrow night,” with that, he gave Jessica a wink, “but I think I can fit in a tree-picking with two beautiful girls.”
“You think I’m boo-ti-fool?” Sarah asked, slipping her hand into C.J.’s, and adding him to her other flank.
“Of course I do.”
“And you think Jessica’s boo-ti-fool, too?”
He caught Jessica’s eye over Sarah’s head, and suddenly she no longer felt the cold. Heck, she no longer felt her toes or anything else. Just the searing power of those blue eyes, and the way his voice seemed to touch a part of her she’d thought had died a long time ago. “Yes. Very much so.”
“Good. Then we have to find a boo-ti-ful tree, too.”
And off they went, looking more like the trio in the Wizard of Oz than anything else, Jessica thought. But if anyone in Riverbend found the three of them an odd grouping, they didn’t say a word. At the corner, the church lot had plenty of trees left, and Sarah was soon darting from tree to tree, pronouncing one after another perfect and boo-ti-ful.
“She’s having a blast,” Jessica said to C.J. “I can’t imagine never having a Christmas tree.”
“Sarah’s never had a tree before?”
The surprise in his voice reminded her of how little he knew about his daughter. What an absent father he had been. Yet another reason not to get involved with this man. He’d said he had no idea that he had a child, but she had to wonder, had he just walked away from Kiki or ignored her attempts to let him know she was pregnant?
There were two sides to every story, and she wondered about the side C.J. was leaving out.
Still, Sarah deserved and needed a Christmas tree. And if Jessica could help the little girl get that much at least before she left for Miami, then she’d leave feeling better. So she explained to C.J. what Sarah had told her earlier.
“I had no idea,” C.J. said. “I mean, Kiki wasn’t exactly traditional, but I thought she at least celebrated Christmas.”
“Apparently not. At least not like everyone else.” C.J. watched his little girl run among the trees, her face bright, eyes wide. Jessica read the emotions running across C.J.’s face like a river rushing over rocks.
Anger yielding to regret, then that was swept away by a tender determination. She took back her earlier thoughts about him, replacing them with newfound respect for his parenting efforts. He slipped his hand into Jessica’s. “It seems we have a mission, then.”
No man had touched her since her husband died and here C.J. had done it twice. C.J.’s palm was broad and firm, his grip warm and so large, so strong. A thrill ran up her arm, then through her body. For a second she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
A simple thing, a touch like that, and yet how she had missed it. And not even known she’d missed it until C.J. had taken her hand, kissed her.
Woken her up, like the sun cresting over the horizon and brightening a sleeping landscape. Hunger roared to life inside her for more of this. More of him.
“A…a mission?” she managed.
“To find the biggest damned tree on this lot,” he
said, grinning, clearly excited by the prospect. His enthusiasm spread to her. “No, not just one, because that one is for your store, right?”
She nodded, her gaze stealing to their clasped palms. As he talked, his grip on hers tightened, but he seemed to barely notice.
But she noticed. She noticed every ounce of his touch.
“Three,” C.J. said with finality. “Three trees, that’s how many we need.”
“Three?” Had she heard him right? “Why three?”
“One for your store. One for Sarah’s living room and one for yours.”
“But, but I won’t be there. I’m leaving.”
He took her hand, raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Even through the leather of her glove, she could feel the warmth of his breath. “No, you’re not going to leave. Because I am going to do everything I can to convince you to stay.”
“C.J.—”
“Can I help you folks?” Earl Klein sauntered over to them, his brown plaid hunting cap pulled low on his head, the ear flaps tipped up, flopping like puppy ears as he walked. He had his Carhartt overalls on, making him look like a big brown Pillsbury Doughboy. “Oh, Mrs. Patterson! I was wondering when you were coming down for your tree this year. I have a great one set aside for you.”
“Earl, thank you, but I’m not planning on getting a tree.”
“Not getting a tree!” Earl dug a finger into his ear canal. “I better get down to the doc, because I think my hearing is going.”
“I’m serious, Mr. Klein. I’m only getting a tree for the store this year.”
Earl looked at C.J., then down at Sarah. “She’s pulling my leg, isn’t she? Trying to pull some wool over old Earl.” Then he glanced back up at Jessica. “Very funny there, Mrs. Patterson. Now come see this gorgeous Scotch pine—” He started walking away.
“Mr. Klein, I’m serious.”
Earl stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that because you are Mrs. Claus,” he whispered the last two words so Sarah couldn’t hear, “and that means you can’t go without a tree in your house.” He gave her a finger wag. “Now you can put this tree in your kitchen and use it to hang your dish towels on for all I care, but I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave my lot, without knowing you, of all people, is setting right.”
“Exactly my thinking, Mr. Klein,” C.J. agreed.
“Let me just pay for the store’s tree,” Jessica said, hoping if she ignored the argument Earl would let it go, and reached for her wallet.
Earl waved her off. “No charge. You do enough for this town, ma’am. ’Bout time this town did something for you.”
“But, Mr. Klein, I always support the church’s tree sale.”
“I know.” He glanced at C.J., and the two men exchanged a smile. Jessica shot C.J. a suspicious look. “And now we’re supporting you.” Before she could say anything else, Earl waved an arm toward the back of the lot. “Now, let me show you your tree, and then you can tell me if you don’t want it.”
“What did you do?” she asked C.J. as the three of them navigated through a maze of pine, down a carpet of thick green needles, to a stand of trees set up around the corner and behind the main tree lot.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
But the dimple in his smile belied every word.
“Your tree, Mrs. Claus,” Earl whispered the last, then stepped back and gestured to a thick, lush, bright-green, seven-foot-tall Scotch pine, perfectly shaped and exactly the right size for the store’s corner.
“It’s perfect!” Sarah said. She ran to the tree, halting just before it, then flung out her arms—
And gave the tree a hug.
“I’d say that one’s sold,” C.J. said. “Can we get two more just like it?”
“One more,” Jessica corrected.
“Two,” C.J. overrode.
“One.”
Earl looked from C.J. to Jessica. “Ain’t she pretty? Didn’t I tell you?”
Sarah quit hugging the tree and turned around. “Are we getting three trees? Really getting three?”
Her voice was so filled with wonder and excitement, that it evoked a memory in Jessica’s heart, and when Jessica opened her mouth to say “no,” the word somehow got twisted around in her throat and came out…“Yes. Three trees it is.”
C.J. grinned and gave Jessica’s hand a squeeze. “What’s the worst that can happen? You come home and have to vacuum up a few pine needles?”
She met his charismatic blue eyes—as rich and deep as the needles on the tree before her—got wrapped up in his charming smile again, and knew there were far worse things already afoot than pine needles falling on her living room carpet.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE THREE OF THEM sat in a booth at a little deli next to the Methodist Church in a scene so normal, so ordinary, C.J. would have thought he was on the set of Leave It to Beaver, except for the feel of the laminate tabletop beneath his palms and the scent of bacon in the air. Not to mention what would undoubtedly be some damned good blueberry pancakes, if the number of orders surrounding them was any indication.
This was how regular people lived. A life C.J. had never known, only glimpsed in windows, seen on the sets he built. And yet it was the exact life he wanted to give Sarah, if only he could figure out how.
“I’m bored,” Sarah said, fidgeting in the booth. “Can we go now?”
“Our food hasn’t even come yet,” C.J. replied. “Give it a few minutes. The waitress will be here any second.” He hoped.
“I don’t wanna wait. I wanna go put up the tree.”
Jessica chuckled. “I don’t blame her. I was the same way when I was that age. Maybe we should skip breakfast.”
“Uh, I already did that. Force of habit.” He might as well put on his Failing Parent hat now. “I’m not used to worrying about someone else’s meals.”
“I understand. I’ve gotten used to eating for one, too.” A melancholy slipped over her features, then disappeared. “Sarah, breakfast should only take a minute and then—” Jessica’s cell phone rang and she dug it out of her purse. “Excuse me a second,” she said, then flipped it open and answered it.
Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and glared at C.J. “I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat. You’re…growing.”
“I’ll grow tomorrow. Today I wanna put up the tree.”
Jessica closed the phone and put it back in her purse. “I’ve got a little emergency at the store, a mix-up with a delivery. Do you mind if I run over there?”
“Not at all,” C.J. said. “In fact, we shouldn’t even take up this much of your time, especially during what must be a really busy time of year for you.”
“Oh, it wasn’t much time.” Her gaze traveled to Sarah, and he saw a softening in her features. “Not much at all. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“All under control.” He worked in Hollywood. He could lie with the best of them.
She grinned, clearly not fooled for a second.
“Meet me at the store when you’re done and we’ll get that tree set up.”
“Sure.” He caught her eye and they exchanged a smile. A quiet smile, the kind that didn’t hold much more than a fleeting connection, but it warmed C.J.’s heart in a way he hadn’t thought it could ever be warmed again.
“If I can steal away,” Jessica said, “Maybe we can share a piece of pie later.”
“That’d be nice.” Nice? What kind of word was that? Couldn’t he have come up with something stronger? More masculine than nice?
Way to go, C.J. Definitely win a woman over with power words like nice.
Jessica was gone before he could come up with a sentence redo. And he was left with Sarah, who was watching him with an identical pair of eyes to his own, a pair just as smart and twice as inquisitive.
“You don’t know much about kids, do you?” Sarah said.
For a moment he was taken aback by her frankness, then remembered she was
Kiki’s daughter. Kiki would have raised her to be direct, in-your-face, none of that children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard stuff.
“No,” he said, deciding honesty was the best policy, because he was sure this kid could spot a lie at fifty paces. “I don’t.”
“Then why should I stay with you?”
“Because I’m your dad.”
She thought about that for a second. “How do I know that for sure?”
“There’s this test with, ah, DNA,” he began. Kiki may have said all those years ago that another man had fathered newborn Sarah, but it was abundantly clear the blue-eyed child before him, with the same dimple in her chin and long, thin nose, was his.