A Madrona Island Christmas

by Jami Davenport

  Before Janna could respond, Mandy appeared, handing Sara a hot-buttered rum and guiding her into the living area where the party was already going full swing. The last time Sarah had a hot-buttered rum had been last Christmas Eve with Blake. A mixture of relief and sadness filtered through her, but she pasted a fake smile on her face and entered the joyous room. Mandy’s friends and family were gathered in large and small groups, laughing and talking. A table in the corner held an impressive spread of delectable dishes. Christmas music played in the background, and a huge tree laden with ornaments claimed one corner of the large room.

  The earlier mist had given way to a starry night. Outside, several other guests crowded around a large fire pit blazing as merrily as the fireplace inside the house.

  Sarah took a seat on the couch between a few of the guests, long-time island residents she knew quite well.

  “Blake Daniels is on the island,” said Eva, the island psychic, as she cast a pointed glance in Sarah’s direction.

  “He is?” Sarah knew her face must have gone pale. Her mouth certainly went dry, and her stomach did a great imitation of an unbalanced high-wire walker.

  Mandy shot a guilty look in Sarah’s direction and a chastising one in Eva’s, but the exotic woman didn’t bat an eye.

  “You didn’t invite him, did you?” Sarah glanced first at Mandy then at Janna fidgeting near the doorway. Mandy looked to Janna with a shrug. “Janna?”

  Janna smiled apologetically. “I might’ve run into him at the grocery store earlier today and extended an invitation. I’m sure he won’t show. He didn’t sound interested. I just hate the idea of him being alone during the holidays.” When Janna got nervous she talked a hundred miles an hour, just as she was doing now.

  “It was a mercy invitation,” she added.

  Sarah smiled, trying to process Blake being on the island. “It’s okay. I don’t care if he shows up or not. We parted friends. What we had last winter was just a holiday fling,” Sarah lied, not fooling anyone. They were her friends. They’d seen the aftermath of the break up and helped her pick up the pieces and move on. Their pitying looks were enough to make Sarah run for the nearest door, but party-goers blocked all the exits. She wouldn’t be able to sneak out unnoticed. She’d bide her time and disappear as soon as the opening presented itself.

  In the meantime, she sipped her drink and faked interest in whatever conversation buzzed around her, not that she had a clue because her mind was a million miles away—actually a lot closer. More like a few miles down the road.

  With Blake.

  * * * *

  A wild-assed hair had found its way up Blake’s butt and convinced him to go out on a Saturday night to a Christmas party hosted by people he barely knew. The closer he drove to the party, the more reluctant he was, yet he kept driving rather than turning around, drawn by some invisible thread that insisted he be there tonight instead of at home licking his considerable wounds.

  He knew why he was going against his better judgement. Janna had mentioned Sarah was invited. So, yeah, he wanted to see her again. He couldn’t help it, even if doing so wasn’t a good idea or fair to either of them given the career decisions they’d made.

  Blake pulled down the long driveway. Cars were parked on either side of the road, so he parked behind the last one and got out. He limped to the B&B, both relieved and sad Sarah’s pickup wasn’t in the driveway or B&B parking area.

  He’d arrived on the island yesterday, and already everything reminded him of Sarah. He guessed that was progress because before her everything on this island reminded him of the family he’d lost and all the good memories they’d made on this island since his childhood.

  Grabbing the lasagna he’d concocted from one of his mother’s many recipes, he steeled himself for all the smells, sights, and sounds of Christmas and hobbled up the steps to the front door. He knocked, but judging by the noise inside, no one could possibly hear him. Setting the hot dish down on a bench, he pushed open the door, ready to face the revelers and attempt to have a reasonably good time.

  Before he could retrieve his dish, she barreled into him. He caught glimpse of brown hair in a ponytail before the escapee ran into his chest head first. She was glancing over her shoulder as if the devil himself was on her heels.

  “Hey, slow down,” he said as he steadied himself and her, glad she hadn’t knocked him down. His heart knew it was Sarah before his head did.

  She stared up at him, her beautiful face registering shock. “Blake?” She blinked several times as if she didn’t trust her eyesight.

  “Sarah,” he responded, keeping his voice deadpan even as his entire body welcomed her.

  “Oh, no, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She grasped his arms, her fingers curling around his biceps.

  “I’m okay.” He shook his head. She hadn’t hurt him physically even though he felt inside as if she had.

  “But, your leg—” Her gazed dropped to his walking cast.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Where were you going in such a hurry? Is the party that much of a bust that you’re running like hell to escape?”

  “I, uh, no, I,” she seemed at a loss for words.

  “Good, then, let’s go inside.” He waited for her to remove her hands off his arms. She didn’t. The woman had a damn-good grip. Suddenly realizing she’d been hanging onto him, she threw her hands up in the air and backed away, as if he were armed and dangerous. Her confusion amused him. Obviously, his appearance affected her as much as hers did him. He picked up the casserole, grateful his hands didn’t shake. Cyrus sat in the doorway watching them. He wagged his tail at Blake, and with a heavy sigh retreated back inside.

  As if on cue, Eva appeared out of nowhere, smiling her serene smile. “There you are, Sarah. Mandy is looking for you. Blake, so good to see you.”

  Sarah escaped, and Blake followed Eva, feeling somewhat smug and self-satisfied. He’d thwarted Sarah’s escape, and he’d savor every moment in her presence, bad idea or not.

  Eva cocked her head. Her slow, knowing smile didn’t irritate him as much as it usually did. As long as she was on his side—whatever his side was—he’d tolerate her weirdness.

  “Put your dish on the counter,” Eva spoke in her usual mysterious voice and turned to eye him up and down. “Your destiny is here. That’s what your family would’ve wanted.”

  Blake stopped in his tracks, feeling a cold chill thread its way down his spine. He couldn’t come up with a response to her proclamation. He skirted past her and into the welcome sanctuary of the crowded living room, keeping one eye warily on Eva and the other eagerly on Sarah. Currently, she was engaged in deep conversation with a group near the fireplace and glanced nervously at him every few minutes. He liked her attention on him—a lot—because his attention sure as hell focused on her.

  “I’m glad you came,” Janna said, sliding up next to him and handing him a hot buttered rum. “And so is she.” With a jerk of her head, she indicated Sarah, as if he couldn’t figure that one out.

  Blake nodded, at a loss for a response.

  “She misses you.” Janna said as the party’s host, Brody, joined them. Janna excused herself, leaving the two men alone.

  “Hey, man, tough luck about the leg. When do you think you’ll be back on the ice?” Brody had moved to the island about a year ago, coached high school football, and did remodels. He’d met Mandy’s husband in the military years ago and come to the island to settle a debt after the man had died saving his life. Not only had he settled that debt, but he’d settled on the island with Mandy.

  Blake swallowed hard. “I’m retiring.” Saying the words out loud for the first time made it real.

  “Is that a good thing?” Brody asked in his usual blunt manner.

  “Good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s time.”

  Brody grinned. “I know that story. Hard to admit we’re mortal, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, damn hard.”

  Brody glanced in Sarah’s direction and back to Blake
. “You staying on the island?”

  “I don’t know what I’d do here. It’s not like there’s a hockey rink or anything remotely related to skating.”

  “Then do something else.”

  If only it were that simple. Blake shrugged, totally at a loss as to what that something else would be.

  A cheer rose from the group of men gathered around the TV.

  Brody glanced in the direction of the noise. “I’m missing the game. It’s a good one.”

  Blake followed Brody into the living room and hung out with the guys as they watched a college game on the TV. At least it wasn’t hockey. He didn’t think he could handle dealing with hockey and Sarah on the same night.

  Yet, he had every intention of dealing with Sarah. He wasn’t sure why because they’d hashed out their relationship ad nauseam and kept arriving at the same conclusion. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting a different outcome?

  Maybe he was insane, and the loss of hockey combined with his insanity had driven him here. He’d be all kinds of fool to pretend he hadn’t come because of Sarah.

  He left the guys to watch their game and wandered about the B&B, pausing to talk to guests while looking for Sarah. He found her outside, sitting with a large group huddled around a blazing fire pit. There was an empty seat next to her, and Blake took advantage of it.

  “Hey,” he said simply, sipping his now-cold, hot-buttered rum and pretending their not-so-chance meeting was casual and relaxed.

  Sarah scooted her chair closer to the fire as if she were cold, not merely trying to get her ass away from him. He almost smirked and scooted his chair closer to the fire, forcing them into tighter quarters. Their knees bumped, and her head shot up.

  Her gaze latched onto his.

  Fuck.

  Nothing had changed, staring into her eyes made time stand still, reduced all his problems to dust until the only thing that mattered was being wrapped in the warmth of her gaze. And it was warm, heated in fact, sizzling hot, just like they’d been in their brief, whirlwind romance and every time they’d hooked up since their magical Christmas Eve one year ago. Only they hadn’t just hooked up. Blake had fallen irrevocably and undeniably in love with the woman who’d saved the kitten he’d found shivering in a snow bank. She’d saved him too, given him hope, made him realize life could be worth living again despite all his losses.

  For a brief while, he’d had it all—the love of a good woman, a resurrected hockey career, and great friends—until it’d come tumbling down around him like a precarious stack of children’s blocks because neither of them had been willing to find a compromise.

  Regardless, she was here, and he saw the yearning in her eyes, certain his own reflected the same. He forgot the others sitting around them. Only Sarah existed and only Sarah mattered.

  But did she matter enough? Would he limp away from hockey, living out the rest of his years in obscurity on this beautiful island? There could be worse fates—far, far worse—such as a life without Sarah. But what about life without hockey? He’d had skates on his feet and a stick in his hand as soon as he could walk. How did a guy turn his back on such a huge part of his life?

  Sarah blinked at him and ran her fingers over his stubbled jaw. He held his breath, savoring her touch. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly, concern darkening her brown eyes.

  He wanted to tell her no, he hadn’t been okay since she’d broken off their relationship, but he caught her quick look at his cast.

  Oh, yeah, that.

  “I’ve had worse injuries,” he answered nonchalantly, managing to conceal the turmoil raging inside him.

  She frowned, almost as if disappointed by his answer. “So you’ll be heading back to the team soon?”

  Blake studied her closely, trying to decipher her true meaning without reading too much into her words. “Not in a playing capacity,” he admitted for the second time in one night.

  “You’re not going back on the ice?” She patted his arm as if she cared, causing a huge lump to lodge itself in his throat. “But you love hockey.”

  Blake cleared his throat and willed his voice to remain steady. “I’m thirty-five, it’s time to retire. I had a good run.”

  “What will you do?”

  Did he detect hope in her voice? “The Sockeyes have offered me a coaching job.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell, and he wished he could make her smile instead, only he couldn’t and wouldn’t lie to her.

  “I don’t know what I want so I came here to get my head on straight and consider my options.”

  “It was nice talking to you.” Sarah nodded and stood abruptly, ending their conversation as if she’d heard enough.

  Before Blake could explain further, she skirted around the group and disappeared into the house. He rested his elbows on his thighs and propped his head in his hands, staring into the flickering fire. Eva was right about one thing. His parents would approve of Sarah, but Sarah had taken her stance. As long as hockey was his life, they had no future. He understood her desire to have as normal a life as possible.

  Waiting for him to come home after a long road trip only to leave again a few days later wasn’t the way she wanted to live. It’d be difficult even if they lived in the same city as the team, but Sarah didn’t. Every option open to him required he reside a majority of the time in Seattle. No matter how he spun it, he couldn’t see a future for them no matter how badly they wanted it.

  She’d slipped away, and he’d let her go once again.

  Chapter 4—Slapshot

  The following Monday evening, Sarah had just finished with her last furry patient when Janna peeked her head in the door.

  “You have a last-minute patient.”

  Sarah sighed and put her lab coat back on. She should’ve known she’d never get out of the office on time. “Okay, bring him in.”

  Janna grinned at her. “It’s Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hockey.” She ducked out the door before Sarah could respond or throw something at her. A few seconds later Blake stood sheepishly in the doorway holding a cat in his big hands.

  She forced her gaze away from his blue-gray one and concentrated on the handsome feline. “He’s grown.”

  “Yeah, hard to believe he’s over a year old,” Blake answered almost proudly as he sat the cat on the examining table and gently restrained him.

  “What brings you here?” Sarah pretended to be all business despite how hard her pulse raced, her heart pounded, and her hands shook.

  “Just routine stuff. I never seem to have time for it back in Seattle, but I have lots of time on my hands now. He needs his shots, an exam. I’m not keeping you from anything?”

  “No, not at all.” Sarah went to work, trying to maintain distant professionalism, but when her hand brushed his, her feelings were anything but professional. She performed the necessary tasks with efficient precision, finishing in record time. She had to get this man out of her clinic before she did something stupid like beg him to take her any way he pleased with his cat and her dog as an audience. Or even worse, Janna.

  Speaking of the devil, Janna poked her head in the door. “I’m heading out. I’ll lock up.”

  Sarah nodded. “We’re done here. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Janna raised a brow and smirked. “Sure, you will be. Good night, Blake. That lasagna you brought to the party was epic. I’ve never tasted anything like it. When you finish your NHL career, you should open a restaurant.”

  Blake blanched and paled at the innocent reminder his career was over. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “There’s a nice little waterfront café for sale right now. It’d be a great place for someone who doesn’t want to have a big restaurant and just wants a dozen or so tables. Perfect for you since you wouldn’t necessarily need to turn a huge profit.” Janna wouldn’t give it up, and Sarah wanted to strangle her well-meaning friend. Blake swallowed and concentrated on his cat as if nothing was wrong. Yet Sarah
knew everything was wrong. In fact, she suspected he was a hot mess.

  “That’s nice,” he remarked casually, yet his voice was strained.

  “Janna, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re fine here.”

  Janna raised a brow and grinned, completely misinterpreting why Sarah wanted her gone. “Oh, I’m sure you two are fine.”

  Sarah shot her a murderous glare, which didn’t affect her friend and employee one bit. At least she took the not-so-subtle hint and left.

  Blake glanced at Sarah with such profound sadness in his eyes, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and never let him go, but the man didn’t need a rescuer. He needed to figure out his priorities after hockey and decide what to do with the rest of his life. Most likely without Sarah in it.

  She picked up Blake’s cat, Nick, and gave him a hug, feeling proud of the part she’d played in his rescue. When Blake brought the poor thing into the clinic on Christmas Eve last year, the kitten had been near death, frozen, and starving. Together they’d nursed him back to health and formed a bond not easily broken. Even though she’d ended their relationship months ago, she still couldn’t completely sever that bond. By the wistful expression on Blake’s face, neither could he.

  “I’m done here. Since no one is left in the office, I’ll send you the bill.”

  “That’d be fine.” Blake picked up Nick and put him in the crate he’d left near the clinic door, which brought about a round of pitiful wailing from the poor animal. “He doesn’t like to be confined.”

  “None of them do. Nice seeing you again. Merry Christmas.” Sarah dismissed him and strode into her office. She removed her lab coat and hung it up, grabbing her purse and keys. When she walked into the waiting room, Blake stood there with an apologetic smile on his face and holding the cat crate in one hand. Lying on his dog bed in the corner of the waiting room, Cyrus thumped his tail but didn’t move. He didn’t believe in expending excess energy and always waited until she signaled she was actually leaving.