by Melody Anne
Waking up the next morning, Sage gasped to see it was almost noon. She had slept for a solid ten hours without waking once. That’s when she noticed her phone was ringing.
“Hello.” The sound of her groggy voice would certainly scare away a telemarketer if that was who had dared to wake her.
“Good morning, beautiful. You have exactly thirty minutes to dress and open your front door for me,” Spence said, his voice pure sunshine.
“Thirty minutes will barely make me presentable,” she warned.
“Baby, all you need is three minutes, just enough time to slip on shoes and a coat, because you wake up beautiful.”
“Flattery will certainly get you whatever you want, Dr. Whitman,” she said, feeling like giggling.
“Ah, then I must do it more often. You now have twenty-eight minutes,” he warned.
“Then I better hang up.”
Without waiting for a good-bye, Sage hung up the phone and rushed to her bathroom, where she showered and dressed in a flat ten minutes. She brushed on some mascara and lip gloss, threw her hair up into a ponytail, and bounced down the stairs. She made a cup of coffee, which she downed right before the doorbell rang.
Swinging the door open, Sage didn’t even have a chance to speak before Spence lifted her in his arms, kissed her breathless, then carried her from the apartment and down the stairs and set her in his truck before running around to his side and climbing in.
“That’s what I call a good morning,” Sage said with a laugh.
“I told you I would be picking you up today. I hope you got enough rest,” he replied, grabbing her hand and placing it on his thigh as he began driving.
“I slept like a rock. I feel more rested than I have in a while, and I desperately needed it after the week I’ve had.”
“Being a resident is hard, but once you make it through, you will be so glad you did it.”
“I am exhausted all the time, but I wouldn’t trade it. I’m doing exactly what I love,” she said.
“Being a doctor has to be in your blood. Some have it and some don’t. You, Dr. Banks, certainly have it.” She turned and kissed his cheek, overflowing with happiness.
“Where are you taking me this morning? Are we jetting off to another city? More jazz and sex?” Sage asked. For someone who liked order so much, she sure was a different person when with Spence, easily going with the flow.
“I’m kidnapping you. Isn’t that obvious? And kidnap victims are never told where they’re going.”
“The weather is supposed to get worse today, Spence. We don’t want to get caught out in it, and the ER will probably be busy because the roads are sure to get icy.” The dark clouds were threatening to dump a lot of new snow onto the area.
“You worry too much,” he said as they headed out of town. “Just let go and relax. Today will be fun.”
“I can have fun, you know.”
“Prove it, Sage. Tell me one reckless thing you have done in your life.”
“Well, there was the time . . .” She had nothing. She dredged her memories desperately in hope of finding something—anything she’d done that didn’t have a purpose.
“See, Sage? I’m right. As always.”
“You’re not always right, Spence,” she snapped, her smile suddenly evaporating as she scooted over, no longer in the mood to snuggle. “And I demand to know where we’re going.”
So what if she liked to have her life organized? It wasn’t a crime to be responsible. As a doctor, Spence should be a whole heck of a lot more worried about what he chose to do. He had a reputation to maintain. People had an expectation of the way doctors should act, and why shouldn’t they? Wild and crazy guys weren’t very reassuring.
“I’m ensuring that you keep a promise,” he said, taking another turn and going up an old and winding logging road.
Big, fat snowflakes starting splatting against the windshield, and Sage watched while the road began to get a fresh layer of white atop its base of older snow.
“We should really turn around before we’re stuck up here,” she said. “Anyway, what promise?”
“We aren’t leaving until we’ve reached our objective. As for the promise—you said you’d make sure I got the perfect Christmas tree. And that was weeks ago.”
“We didn’t need to come all the way up here for a tree. There are beautiful ones already cut and trimmed and ready to buy,” she said as he pulled up to an old hunter’s cabin and parked his truck.
“Yes, but those trees aren’t fresh. They could easily die before Christmas, and become dry and dangerous. And you call yourself responsible! You don’t want the lights to spark a fire and burn down my house, do you?”
“That’s why you have to look at the base of the tree and make sure it’s still moist. You just cut the last couple inches off the trunk so it can soak up water.”
“There’s nothing like cutting your own tree,” he told her as he stepped from the truck and walked around to her side.
“This is foolish. It’s freezing out here and we’re going to get stranded in a snowstorm.” Sage refused to budge.
“Then we get stranded. The cabin’s stocked for emergencies.” Spence reached in and easily removed her from the truck, letting her body slide down his as he held her against him. “If we get too cold, I have ideas on how to warm us back up.”
“What cabin?”
“This is my brother’s hunting cabin. We come up here often.” She looked at the snow-covered cabin, impressed. Then Spence leaned down and kissed her, making her forget all about the snow, the cabin, and her little fit, and heating her up while also leaving her trembling—not a bit from the cold.
“Fine, let’s get your tree. I still say it’s terrible to cut down a live one when there are so many that will go to waste. As a doctor, you should have more of a healthy respect for life.” She gave him half a wink after her last remark.
“But the cutting down is the best part, Sage. And we try to make it all up to Mother Nature. For every Christmas tree we cut down, in the spring we get saplings we’ve been growing at home and plant two more here to replace the old one. It’s been a Whitman tradition from our first Christmas together.”
That stopped Sage. She walked beside him, turning her head to see if he was serious. That was a pretty great tradition. “Really? Can you point out any that you’ve planted?”
They moved through the trees of various heights. “I planted those four over there. Camden planted those three,” he said, pointing to three huge pines. “And Michael planted that small group. The four over there, looking kinda frail, Jackson planted. I wanted that one Cam planted for our Christmas tree last year, but you would have thought I’d wanted to slay his firstborn. I don’t think we’ve ever cut down any of the trees we’ve planted. We’d rather see how much they’ve grown each year.”
The area was crowded with trees, and as Spence and Sage weaved their way through it all, she stopped to examine different ones. She’d exclaim that she’d found a perfect one, then find fault with it after circling it a few times. After an hour, Spence lifted her into his arms and kissed her again.
“What?” she asked when she was able to catch her breath.
“I never realized there was such science to picking out a Christmas tree. You do realize that I’ll need you by my side each year from here on out so I don’t make such a grievous error as to get an imperfect one.”
“Are you making fun of me, Spence?” she asked in mock anger. She knew she could be a bit unbalanced in certain shaky situations. It was just who she was.
“Make fun of you? I’d never be so foolish as to do something like that.”
As she flung her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest, the snow coated their shoulders, and she didn’t even notice. It was cold and wet, but all she could think about was how safe she felt. Even the stinging of her red nose and cheeks didn’t bother her when she was in his arms.
Then she spotted it. They had to have passed
it before, but she knew this was the tree. It stood about ten feet tall, which would be fine with the soaring ceilings in his living room. The branches were full and lush, with ample room for a whole lot of ornaments, and the tree was almost calling her name.
She pushed off against him and walked over to it, then circled it several times before stopping and nodding her head. “This is the one. It’s a perfect tree,” Sage said, a smile lighting up her face. This was the first time she’d ever come out to the woods to cut a tree, and though she’d been resistant the entire way, it now looked like Spence wasn’t the only one addicted.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to cut it down and then have you change your mind,” he said as he picked up his ax.
“I’m positive. Swing away, Mountain Man.”
“I knew I should have worn that red-checked flannel.” Spence flexed his arm, walked over to the tree, and bent to clear the snow from the base so he could see what he was doing before standing back up.
“Now that’s a fantasy I’ve never had,” she said as she watched him lean back and then swing the ax forward. She was mesmerized by the rhythm, the accuracy of his body in motion. A slight sweat broke out on his brow and she found herself wanting to tackle him and have her way with him right there on the frozen ground. Just for cutting down a tree. Ridiculous.
“Timber,” he called as the ax cut through the last of the base and the tree began to fall. The snow cushioned its fall, and a swirl of fresh white powder flew up into the air. He quickly removed a few of the bottom branches to give himself a bigger area to hold on to and then turned toward her. The snow was falling so thickly at this point that they had only about six feet of visibility in front of them.
“I think that storm has hit,” he said as he grabbed the tree with one hand and took her gloved fingers with the other.
“Yes, it’s really coming down. I hope you know your way back to the truck.”
There was a rustling in the bushes to Sage’s left, and she stopped. “What was that?” she whispered, knowing they should probably move, but her legs were frozen solid.
“It’s just a deer.”
“Are you sure?” Her knees finally unlocked, and she started walking beside him again.
“Positive. We need to hurry, though. I want to get down the hill before this turns into a full-blown blizzard.”
His pace was making her breathe heavily. She was used to being on her feet all night long, but she wasn’t used to hiking through snowy woods. When his truck came into view, she breathed a sigh of relief, then attempted to help when he lugged the tree onto the bed of his truck. When he opened the passenger door for her, she heard rustling again and whirled around toward it.
“Oh, Spence!”
He turned in the direction she was looking, and before them, practically close enough to touch, were several huge stags, their antlers reaching toward the sky.
“They’re gorgeous, and must be having a hard time finding food if they’re getting this close,” he said, wrapping an arm around her.
“Do you think they’d let me pet them?” She was surprised by how much she wanted to. She’d normally be thinking of the diseases they could be carrying, or the bugs in their fur.
“Not a great idea. They might get a bit upset when they find out you don’t have anything to offer them.”
Sage reached out to the deer anyway, but the one in the lead got spooked and ran off. The others followed.
“We need to go,” Spence told her. He lifted her inside the truck, then quickly moved around to the driver’s side.
Once he started the engine and the heater kicked in, Sage began shivering. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d become. Though she’d layered up, brutal temperatures like these really seeped in.
“Now we need to get into town and pick up ornaments,” he announced.
“You don’t have any? Everyone has ornaments.”
“No. This will be my first tree at my own place. We’ve always had one at Dad’s, after all. There wasn’t room for one while I was in school, and I just didn’t bother when I was in Seattle. What was the point? I was there on my own,” he said with a shrug.
“That’s . . . sad,” she said. “Even when I was in my small dorm room, I’d get one of those little trees they have in pots. It wasn’t much, but I put tiny lights and decorations on it. It made me smile. When I left for home for the break, I would take the tree to a shelter nearby and they loved it. It’s not Christmas without a tree.”
“Agreed. But I always came home for Christmas—when I didn’t have to work, at least. I just never felt the need to decorate. You’ll have to come to the ranch, though. Dad goes all out.”
“So does my grandma. I’ve been so busy with work, and then it seems I’m with you during all my free time. I really should get over there. She’s probably been sad that I’m so close to town now, but not bothering to visit.”
“Ha. You don’t know your grandmother that well, then,” Spence said. “She and Eileen and Maggie seem to have events planned for every night of the week. They play poker, have a dance class, and run the local toy drive. This is a busy time of year for them.”
“They play poker? How would you even know that?” Sage couldn’t picture her grandmother, Maggie Winchester, and the very petite Eileen Gagnon playing poker. In her imagination, only burly old guys smoking cigars and guzzling whiskey did such a thing.
Spence chuckled. “I know a few people who have complained about the girls being sharks and wiping them out.”
“I just can’t believe it. I wonder what else I’ve missed out on while I was in med school.”
“Don’t worry. If there’s anything you’ve missed out on, you will hear about it. There are no secrets in Sterling, I’m afraid.”
“That’s something I’ve always hated about this place, Spence. Absolutely no privacy.”
“On a positive note, there’s little crime because no one can get away with anything.”
“Except for Grace,” she grumbled.
“You clearly need a partner in crime—a top-rate detective—to help you find some answers.”
“And you’re telling me that you’re that detective?” She couldn’t hide her skepticism. Still, Camden was his brother.
“I’m a man of many skills, Sage.”
She agreed with that statement 100 percent.
They somehow managed to make it down the mountain, then pulled up in front of the only store in Sterling that carried tree ornaments. Spence practically cleaned the place out of supplies, making the shop owner a happy man. Christmas was only a week away, and the fellow had most likely been thinking he’d have to unload it all at clearance prices. On the other hand, the dust Sage found on some of the packages suggested that the man just stored unsold holiday stuff and brought it out again the next year.
She wasn’t entirely happy with their purchases, and not because of the dust. “None of this matches,” she complained as she walked with him to the truck.
“That will be the beauty of my tree. Its seeming lack of organization will make it look even more cheerful.”
Those were hardly words to convince a woman like Sage. Still, she’d do her best to make it look as beautiful as possible. She was incapable of doing anything less.
“No, no, no!” Sage guarded the tree with her feet spaced apart and her hands on her hips. He was slaughtering this decorating party. She’d tried to be patient, tried to stand back and let him do what he wanted. It was his tree, after all. But she just couldn’t take it anymore.
Was he doing it on purpose to get a reaction from her? If he was, he’d win hands down, because, after suffering so long in silence, she simply had to intervene.
“What? I think it looks great,” he said, eyeing the mishmash of ornaments in many colors and shapes that were placed at random on the noble tree. Some were pushed deeper inside their branches, and some clung for dear life right on the edge. Some were jumbled up together and others were miles apart.
T
his was a disaster. Her side looked perfect—okay, as perfect as it could look with the ornaments she’d been given. But Spence’s side looked terrible.
“You’re kidding. You have to be kidding,” she said, pushing him back when he tried to hang another ornament. She held out her hand and glared, daring him not to give it to her.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, dangling the bright red sphere on his finger.
“Yes, hand it over,” she said, her foot beginning to tap.
“But I have the perfect place for it, Sage.” He moved toward the tree.
She held out her hand. “No.” This had to be the most stupid fight she’d ever had with another person, but she was putting her foot down. He’d asked for her help on the tree and he was doing a grave injustice to the lush foliage by making it look so all-fired ugly.
“Did you just tell me no?”
“Yes, I told you no. Now surrender the ornament and go . . . go make us hot chocolate or something.” She ran one hand through her hair but left the other hand out and open as she waited for him to comply.
“Ah. I like an aggressive woman,” he said, now taking a step in her direction. The ball was in serious danger of being dropped.
“Good. You’ve got one.” She wasn’t backing down. He was handing over that ornament—one way or another.
“Perfect,” he said, and she was horrified when he tossed the ornament behind him, not caring whether it shattered somewhere in the distance. Before she could react, his arms snaked out around her waist and he pulled her tightly against him. “You realize I get all worked up when you’re so cute and bossy, don’t you?”
Spence didn’t give her time to answer; instead, he leaned down and attacked her lips hungrily, taking over and showing her he was certainly in charge right now. She forgot all about the tree when his hands slid down and grasped her behind.
He stopped kissing her for only two seconds in order to growl, “You make me burn,” and then he was plundering her mouth again.
When his lips moved down her throat, she desperately sucked in air, her chest heaving as he gripped the bottom of her shirt and tore it from her. He slid his hands back up and circled her breasts.