A Legendary Christmas

by Jan Scarbrough

  He knew at that moment that he still loved her. Had never stopped.

  But could he trust her?

  For all these years, he’d been safe, sequestered away in his cabin, protecting… what? His heart? His reputation? Now—now she was here. In the place they’d dreamed about for their future. Where he’d dreamed she might someday come back to.

  But dammit, he wasn’t sure he could guard his heart, now that she was a living, breathing person in front of him.

  Had he only been ready to be a husband, to give her what she wanted and needed all those years ago—a home, family, children, the goddamned picket fence and all that—then maybe she wouldn’t have run off into some married man’s arms. Some guy who was what she thought she wanted at the time.

  But no, he hadn’t been ready then, couldn’t handle those responsibilities. They were too young. He wasn’t ready to take on what his father had at a young age, and had died trying to keep intact. They’d grown up poor, and his father worked his fingers to the bone to support them. Without a college degree, he’d labored hard. Even at nineteen, Matt knew he’d be damned if he would do the same thing for his future family. His path was different. He would go to college, and get the degree, and provide for his future family without struggling.

  Back then, he’d desperately wanted to give Chelly everything. She was the only woman he wanted.

  But she couldn’t wait… and he wouldn’t change his plans.

  Suddenly, he realized there was nothing he could do about the past, but he damn well could make some alterations to the future. If he could only let go of the hurt, the lack of trust. Physically, he was a strong man. Was his heart strong enough to risk it again? Did he want to try?

  “See if these will work.”

  His soft voice came to her on a whisper. Chelly drifted up and turned to meet him. He thrust something toward, her but she didn’t see what. Clothes, perhaps? All she could see were his light brown eyes reflecting the fire behind her.

  Warm, inviting, lonely.

  She’d been such a fool. Young and naive. And for the few minutes he was gone, she had stared into the fireplace and realized just that.

  She didn’t regret marrying Cliff, and she loved her girls to no end. But she did regret all the pain and hurt she’d caused so many people.

  Swallowing hard over a growing lump in throat, she stepped closer to Matt. Gathering up the clothes he held out to her, she clutched them to her chest but never let her stare waver from his. She peered deeper.

  “I know I’ve said this once, but I’m going to say it again. I’m so sorry, Matt,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  Something broke in his expression, and she waited while his gaze played over her face, searching, probing. It landed on her lips, and then lifted to catch her stare again.

  An overwhelming desire to rush forward, lift her face to his and kiss him came over her. She tamped it back. No, she could not do that. He was angry with her. Hated her. She was stuck with him here and who knew what his reaction might…

  He reached out and skimmed his fingertips along her cheek and jawline, and a fissure of pleasure sped through her, confusing her even more.

  “Matt…” she squeaked out.

  In one swift moment, he grasped the clothing from her hands, tossed them away, and hauled her up against him. His mouth came down hard on hers and she gasped at the sensation. Firm and determined, he kissed her thoroughly, his hands at her back holding her against his chest, his lips playing over hers, his tongue searching for more.

  The unleashed passion boiling up in her was like an answer to a long-awaited prayer. An urgent yearning suppressed and set free. Of a question long hanging in the air responded to with loving fervor. Heat welled up inside her until she thought her chest would burst.

  She was kissing Matt. Not her high school boyfriend, but Matt, the man. The one she’d left behind. And unless she was mistaken, he was hungry for more.

  But… but what could this lead to? Where could it go?

  Those thoughts dissipated as his mouth left her lips and trailed lazily down her neck in a sensual rhythm. A deep sigh escaped his lips. She melted against him.

  “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” His voice was deep and raspy against the crook of her neck and shoulder.

  Chelly pulled back and searched his face. She wondered if he could read her question. Should they?

  With a forefinger on her lips, he shook his head. “Don’t… talk. Let’s…”

  This time she was the one who sprung forward and met his lips in a sensual embrace. No words. No thoughts. Only lips communicating with lips; bodies speaking to bodies.

  They tumbled to the floor in front of the fireplace, landing on a plush rug. Matt shoved the coffee table out of the way and pulled an afghan down from the sofa. She lay on her back, looking up at him as he cradled her close and stared into her eyes.

  The fire made the ambience perfect. Soft flickers of flame wrapped them in a sultry glow. Perfect, perfect…

  But it couldn’t be perfect, could it?

  That second came and went as he reached for the placket of her shirt and unbuttoned in a lazy, southerly direction; his fingertips grazed the tender skin of her breasts, along her tummy, all the way down. His gaze never left hers.

  She shivered at his touch, and the fire within gathered to meet the one raging beside her in the hearth.

  She wanted him. After all this time. And he… he wanted her, too?

  Yes. He did.

  Matt pushed the shirt off her shoulders, and she lifted slightly while he removed and tossed it aside. The heat from the fireplace warmed her, but as soon as he placed his palm over one of her breasts and kneaded, she knew that fire was insignificant compared to the one burning deep in her belly.

  The next seconds were filled with a frenetic tangle of limbs and flying clothing, frenzied breath and frantic kisses, lest their lips be separated one second longer than necessary.

  Their hot bodies came together, and Chelly knew that the skin-to-skin contact they shared had never felt so good. Scorching against her, his body covered hers and she opened for him. He slid inside, and she relished in the feel of his length, the caress against her folds, and she realized that this coming together of their bodies for the first time in years was far superior to simple skin-to-skin contact. She ached for him and eagerly took him inside. From that moment on, any doubt, any question, any insane thought that she shouldn’t be exactly where she was, vanished.

  With a deep inhale, Matt breathed in Chelly’s scent as he sank into her. Dizzy with the sensation, he settled his face against her hair and stilled for only a second as he reveled in the feel of being inside her again. His thoughts didn’t linger except for one.

  This was right. Yes. This was right…

  He plunged deeper, thrusting inside her as she moaned and urged him on, her legs wrapped around him, her hands grasping his back.

  He wanted to savor, linger, slowly bring her to climax, then spill himself inside her. His body took over, however, and did the opposite. As did hers. She gasped and clenched her thighs around him as he moved in and out of her body. He growled in her ear. He couldn’t stop pumping. Filling her. Feeling her velvet insides pulling him deeper. Wouldn’t stop. No. The beautiful thing was that each push was met eagerly as they bucked and clawed their way from the present to the past, and back again.

  “Oh… oh, Matt…” His name on her lips was nearly his undoing.

  Hold on. Hold on…

  She trembled and dug her fingers into his back, her legs clamping him to her, while she huffed out orgasmic gasps and shuddered under him. The sounds, her whimpers of satisfaction, gratified him. He’d always loved giving her pleasure. Simultaneously, he groaned his eruptive release, white lights sparking behind his eyes, and plunged one last time into her, the last of her convulsions settling around him like a conscious caress.

  Melting into her, he wasn’t quite sure where he ended and she began.

&
nbsp; Chapter Seven

  Blinking awake, Chelly opened her eyes and stared into a smoldering fire. The embers were red and glowing, pulsating against the semi-darkness of the room; much like her body thrummed in the night each time Matt made hot and steamy love to her. The first time they came together was fast and furious. The second was slow and deliberate, as if making up for years of neglect.

  Now, as morning closed in, the room was chilly and the fire dying. She hoped that was not a metaphor for things to come. Few words were said while they made love, and Chelly knew that today, the dialogue that they avoided during the night would have to happen.

  Matt spooned her from behind as they faced the fireplace. He’d wrapped her in a cocoon made of his body and the afghan after their last, exhausting love-making session. His breathing was even, with deep easy breaths, moist against her neck. His arm lay heavy across her shoulder and chest, holding her close.

  It would be easy to get lost in this. Waking up with him every morning. Feeling safe and secure and protected, here in this cabin.

  No. It was a fantasy. Couldn’t happen.

  Could it?

  Sighing, she squeezed her eyes tight. No, she was vulnerable. It was too soon. He really didn’t want her. They had succumbed to… something.

  Shivering, she pulled the afghan up closer to her chin, unsure if it was an effort to keep warm, or ward off bad thoughts that tempted to invade her momentary bliss.

  “Cold?”

  Awake for several minutes, Matt avoided stirring, not wanting to wake her. Dammit, that wasn’t the truth. It was more primal than that. He didn’t want to move, to break contact with her body. Having Chelly nestled up against him was like a balm to his aching heart, a salve for his soul.

  He didn’t want her to leave; he didn’t know how to ask her to stay.

  Or if he should.

  “No, not really,” she said quietly.

  With his eyes closed, he tightened his arms around her and pictured them together in his mind’s eye. What would it be like, to wake up like this when they were old and gray? “I’ll get up in a minute and stoke the fire back to life,” he mumbled.

  He’d rather stoke her fire, but now, as daylight teased through the windows, he didn’t feel as confident about that as he was in the dark of night.

  “Take your time,” she whispered. “I’m warm enough.”

  Again, she sighed deeply, and he wondered what that meant. He’d like to think it was a contented sigh, although not convinced that it was. “Me, too.”

  Quiet settled around them, interrupted only with an intermittent crackle and hiss from the fireplace.

  “Has the snow stopped?” She sounded tentative, uncertain.

  “Not sure.”

  Sitting up on an elbow, he glanced at the kitchen window and then back to Chelly. The afghan fell to her waist and his gaze trailed over the curve of her naked back. He debated massaging her shoulders and trailing his fingers over her satin skin until she gave in and let him take her again, but he didn’t act on it. She didn’t turn toward him either, instead continuing to stare into the fire.

  Awkward.

  Instead, he settled behind her. His palm lay loose over her chest and he was certain he felt the subtle beating of her heart. “I think the snow has stopped. I’ll check on the road conditions in a minute.”

  He felt the nod of her head. She said nothing.

  “Are you okay?” He whispered, not certain how to begin the conversation he knew needed to be had.

  She didn’t immediately answer, still looking intently ahead. After a moment, she turned in his arms toward him. A ray of morning light slanted in the window across her face. She looked dewy and soft, her eyes a bit misty, her face lined with worry.

  “I don’t know how I am.”

  Matt traced the outline of her face with his forefinger, then crooked it under her chin. She trembled as he stroked her tender skin with a light touch of his thumb, over and over, while searching her face. “Guess we’re in a weird place, huh?”

  “You hate me.”

  They spoke in soft whispers.

  He huffed out a breath. “Chelly, if I hated you I couldn’t have made love to you last night.”

  Her eyes shut tight; tiny crinkles shot out from the corners.

  “Matt…” she sucked in a breath and exhaled, “I don’t know… We…”

  “Chelly, look at me.”

  She did, her blue eyes questioning.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “You told me to stay away from you.”

  “That was yesterday. I was mad.”

  “You’ve been mad at me for a long time. I hurt you.”

  He paused, careful with his next words. She was right. The hurt, even though for a while last night had lessened, still hadn’t gone away. He didn’t want to lie, and he didn’t want to sugarcoat. “Yes. I’ve been mad at you for a long time. You did hurt me.”

  “That doesn’t go away over night.”

  “No. No, you’re right.”

  “But you could still make love to me?”

  “I… Chelly, yes.”

  She stared at him. “How can you turn it off and on like that?” Her voice rose.

  “Chelly, you were finally here, in my house. So many things were going through my head… I wanted—”

  “You wanted sex.”

  Stunned, he pulled back. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

  Her head shook and he wasn’t sure she heard anything he said. Not really.

  “I didn’t think,” she began. “I… I didn’t think, Matt. I let you, us…. I didn’t think of the consequences. And now…”

  Shit. What was she saying? “And now what?”

  She pushed away and drew the afghan up to her chest. “Maybe… Oh, Matt. Maybe this was a mistake. I don’t know…”

  Dammit! How in hell could he let himself get sucked in again? He sat up, tossing the afghan off him and fully onto her. Standing now, he found his sweatpants and stepped into them. “Never mind, Chelly. I get it. You just woke up with the realization you had ‘oh shit’ sex.”

  “What?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair and paced. “You know, ‘oh shit’ sex. You wake up, realize you’re in bed with someone, and you’re not sure why you did it, and you think, ‘oh shit, what the hell have I done?’”

  Chelly sat straight up. “Matt, that’s not what I was thinking! It’s that we…”

  He waved her off. “Never mind. I get it.”

  Her eyes widened. “Get what?”

  He needed a change of venue and fast. Shit. They were snowbound. Where they still? Could he get out of here? Didn’t matter. At the moment he needed out of the house, away from Chelly, to think.

  A quick glimpse to the hearth told him they were low on firewood. “I’m going to get wood. While I’m out, I’ll check on the weather and radio down to Legend to see about the roads.”

  With a brisk turn toward him, she wrapped the afghan around her and stood. “Do you think we can get out of here today?”

  The look on her face held a sense of urgency.

  “In that much of a hurry to leave?”

  Her brows knit and she glanced toward the door. “No, I…”

  He stomped away, then halted and spun around. Laughing out loud, he interrupted. “Of course you are. That’s what you are good at, Chelly. Leaving. Why should I expect anything less?” His stare bit into her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you off this goddamned mountain. I wouldn’t want you to stick around for too long and get, well, attached or anything.”

  Immediately, her eyes welled up and she lifted her nose in the air in defiance. Like she used to do when they were kids. Damn, but he didn’t want or need to see the gesture that used to melt his resistance like butter on a corn cob.

  He’d hurt her, hadn’t meant to.

  Or had he?

  Maybe it was better this way. If she hated him, it would easier all the way around.

  “It’s Chri
stmas morning, Matt,” she bit out. “I wondered if I would be able to spend it with my girls.”

  Feeling like heel, he swiped at his sweatshirt and picked it up. With the same motion, he tucked his heart back deep in his chest, safe and secure. Why the hell had it let it out? This was impossible, and the sooner they both realized it, the better off they’d both be.

  “Of course. Your girls.”

  “They are important to me. Matt, they are all I have.”

  Of course.

  Dammit. His brain swirled with uncertainty. With emotion he couldn’t pin down. Fear. Trust, or the lack of it. Worry. Love?

  He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to gain some semblance of control. “Of course, Chelly. Sorry. I understand that you need to get to your girls.”

  “Okay…”

  Somehow he didn’t think it was okay. Dammit, he wasn’t good at this relationship thing. Not good at all. He’d screwed them up years ago with his lofty dreams and goals. What made him think he wouldn’t screw it up again? He jerked the sweatshirt over his head while she watched; her gaze trailed his every move. He really didn’t want to look at her. Couldn’t. His resolve might crumble.

  Striding toward where his coat and boots rested, he quickly donned them with a brief backward glance.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”

  Immediately, he regretted those words. This cabin would never be a home for Chelly. There was too much bad history between them. He doubted that either of them had the energy or the inclination to turn all the negatives around.

  He knew he didn’t.

  Yanking open the cabin door, he stepped out onto his snow-drifted stoop and looked at his Jeep. “Dammit all to hell.” He’d have to dig out, but dig out he would. No way would he spend one more night in this cabin with Chelly.

  The door slammed shut behind him.

  Staring at the large wood door, Chelly stood by the fireplace unmoving, sniffing away tears as she contemplated the symbolism of that slamming door. It stood solid and unmoving between them, like the chasm of hurt and betrayal she was pretty darned certain would never go away.

  It was all her fault. All of it.