“Darling. Merry Christmas. It’s so good to see you.” She threw her arms around him and shoved her face up for a kiss.
He managed to pull back before her red lips touched his. Taking her by the arms, he held her away and exerted superhuman effort not to go off on her right then and there. “What are you doing here?”
She tipped her head to the side and faked a wounded look. Her eyes told the truth, though. They glittered with reckless fire. “Oh, Linc. You know why I’m here. You wouldn’t talk to me. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to see you, be with you, find a way to make everything right between us.”
It was a nightmare—his mother and Sarah, self-righteous and ramrod straight, glaring at him from the porch. Harper in the Rover, witnessing this awfulness. Imogen gazing up at him, uttering desperate words as her eyes threatened dire consequences if he failed to give her what she wanted.
Had she always been like this?
He knew the answer. She had, and he’d gone along with it, telling himself that they understood each other, that she was charming when she wanted to be, that he was ready to get married and the two of them were a good fit.
Fit.
As though a wife were a shirt or a new suit. She only had to be well-made, of quality material...
He gazed into those furiously glittering eyes and wondered. At himself. At her. At his mother’s ongoing, vindictive bitterness. Was there any way to get through to either of them?
“I just need to talk to you,” she pleaded. “I want some time with you, alone.”
“And so you came on Christmas night and brought both our mothers?”
“Yes.” She tossed her tumbling, dark curls. “I couldn’t wait a moment longer. And our moms are here to provide the moral support I so desperately need.”
“This is completely unacceptable. It really does have to stop.”
* * *
In the Range Rover, Harper couldn’t take it anymore. Clearly, Linc and the gorgeous brunette who gazed up at him so desperately had more to work out.
And Harper had no place here. Time to go home.
Quietly, hoping the kids would sleep through whatever was about to happen next, she pushed open her door, stepped out and shut it behind her. “Linc, I’m going to go.”
All eyes swung her way.
“This must be the nanny?” said Imogen, nodding, her ferocious smile growing wider, perfect white teeth flashing with malice. “Yes, you are so right. It’s time for you to go.”
“Shut up, Imogen.” Linc tossed the words over his shoulder, and then gentled his voice. “It’s okay, Harper. Just get back in the Rover.”
“No, Linc. I’m not going to do that.”
From behind him on the porch, Alicia called, “Let her go, Linc. She has no business here. This is a family matter.”
He turned to his mother. “Don’t,” he said low. “Just don’t.”
Meanwhile, Imogen lifted her left hand and waved Harper goodbye. A giant engagement diamond sparkled on her ring finger.
Somehow, the woman still had Linc’s ring.
And it hurt. It hurt bad, that he’d given this woman his ring, that she’d been his fiancée a short time ago. Seeing that ring was a blow straight to the heart.
Because Harper loved him. She loved him so much. How could this have happened to her in a few too-short weeks? She was in so far over her head, drowning, going down for the final time, staring up at the sky far above, knowing she was done for.
She turned her gaze on Linc. “While you’re carrying on out here, please don’t forget that there are two little children asleep in that car.”
“Of course not. Harper, don’t go...” He looked at her as though she was everything to him.
Yet his gift to her had been earrings. The woman behind him, backed up by her mother and his mother, too—that woman got the ring.
“You have people you need to deal with here.” And right now, Harper knew she was only in the way. “Good night, Linc.” She started walking.
Silence followed her. She walked faster, never once looking back.
Chapter Thirteen
Linc watched her go, longing only to follow, to convince her to stop, to wait—to turn around.
But why should she be here? This wasn’t her fight. It was his damn mess and he needed to clean it the hell up.
First things first.
He turned to address all three angry women, modulating his voice to a low, controlled rumble. “There are two innocent children in the back seat of my car. As long as they’re nearby, I don’t want one thoughtless or mean word from any of you. Is that clear?”
All three of them muttered, “Of course,” simultaneously.
“Terrific. I’m going to get them both out of their car seats now and herd them inside. Just make yourselves comfortable. Help yourselves to a stiff drink, why don’t you? Keep your thoughts to yourselves until I’ve safely tucked Jayden and Maya in bed.”
“All right,” said Imogen.
“We will,” said his mother.
* * *
The kids really were worn out.
When he took Maya from her car seat, she wrapped her little arms around his neck and went right back to sleep. Jayden took his hand and walked along beside him, murmuring softly, “Hi, Grandma,” as he went up the steps.
“Merry Christmas, Jayden,” Alicia said softly.
Not trusting her in the least, Linc sent her a warning frown. She stared right back at him, but kept her mouth shut.
He left the door open for her and the Whitmans. Holding firmly to Jayden’s hand, cradling Maya close, he headed straight for the stairs.
Twenty minutes later, he came back down. The women sat in the living room. His mother had opened a bottle of white wine. They each had a glass.
He stood by the tree and addressed all three of them. “What do you want?” It was probably a mistake to ask that question, but he really did need the answer. The sooner he could find out what they wanted, the sooner he could deal with them and they could go away.
Alicia said, “You owe it to your fiancée to hear what she has to say.”
“She is not my fiancée and I owe her nothing.” He went right on before anyone could argue. “But all right. Imogen and I will speak privately, after which all three of you will leave.”
The women just sat there for several seconds as he wondered what they’d thought could possibly be gained by ambushing him at the cottage on Christmas night.
Finally, Imogen replied in a wounded tone, “Oh, Linc, yes. To talk to you, to get it all out and make myself finally clear to you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted...”
“Great, then. This should be brief. Let’s go into my office.”
It was not brief.
For the next two hours, behind the shut door of his office, Imogen alternately cried and ranted, pleaded and accused. He sat in a club chair across from her and tried to listen without judgment or anger.
He didn’t succeed, but he did manage to be outwardly gentle and firm, patient and kind—and not to say anything he would end up regretting. There really was nothing more for him to say to her, and he was just waiting for her to realize that she had nothing to say that mattered to him.
She cried all the harder. He handed her some tissues and waited some more.
“I’ll never get through to you, will I?” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes.
He answered in a mild tone. “I don’t love you, Imogen. We’re through. There’s nothing more we need to say.”
At that, she burst into tears again, tore off the engagement ring she shouldn’t even be wearing and threw it at him.
He caught it in midflight, got up and locked it in a drawer of his desk. Was that an insulting thing to do? Maybe. But he didn’t want her grabbing it back and waving it around as though it proved that
they were still together.
“You have no heart!” she cried. “I suppose this is it, then. I’ll go and you’ll be calling the nanny to warm up your bed.”
It was a bad moment. He almost lost it. He wanted to shout that he loved Harper Bravo, that she’d brought joy and laughter, tenderness and hope into his life and the lives of his niece and nephew.
But that wouldn’t be right. He needed to say the words to Harper first, before he spoke them to anyone else. And the last thing he should ever do was to shout them in anger at his ex. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I’ll thank you to leave Harper out of this.”
There were more accusations. He did his best to tune them out.
Finally, Imogen jumped to her feet. “That’s it. That’s all. I quit. I am finished with you, Lincoln Stryker.”
“All right, then. We understand each other at last. Time for you to go.”
Ten minutes later, he stood on the front step and watched the Jaguar drive away. His mother had gone with them. He didn’t know what to do about her, and he kind of wondered if he ever would.
Inside, he poured out the last of the wine and put the empty bottle in the recycle bin. He loaded the glasses into the dishwasher, longing the whole time to call Harper, to make sure she was all right. But it was after eleven and he had a bad feeling she wouldn’t welcome his call.
Upstairs in his room, he settled on sending her a text.
They’re finally gone and not coming back. I miss you. When you get this, would you just let me know that you’re okay?
He hit Send and then stared at the screen for a while, willing her to reply. She didn’t.
So he got ready for bed, climbed between the covers alone and turned off the light.
He was lying on his back, staring blindly into the darkness, longing for the feel of her, the scent of her, there, close to him—when his phone lit up on the nightstand.
Grabbing it, he read:
I’m all right. And I’ve got some things I really need to do at the theater, stuff to catch up on. I haven’t had a day off in a while. Tell the kids I’ll be back soon.
“Not a chance,” he growled at the dark room and the bright screen. “I need you here...”
But the dark room wasn’t listening, and the bright screen had dimmed.
He ground his teeth together, hating that he had no choice but to give her the time she wanted.
Plus, she was right, damn it. Tonight had been a horror show. The least he could do was not argue if she needed some space.
Of course. When will I see you, then?
I would like two days off.
Hell, no. He needed to see her, to touch her, to find a way to reassure her that everything would work out.
All right. Get some rest. See you soon.
And by the way, I love you.
Good night, Linc.
Good night.
Two days, he thought as he set the phone aside. In two days, she’ll be back, and I’ll make it up to her. In two days, he would tell her that he loved her, that what he wanted more than anything was the chance to spend the rest of his life with her...
* * *
Harper had lied. There was nothing she just had to do at the theater. In fact, on the day after Christmas, she didn’t leave the cottage. She dragged around in her pajamas, devouring a whole bag of Cheetos and half a carton of Tillamook Mudslide.
Being in love was awful, she decided. It was painful and messy, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
But she missed Linc so much. She had this enormous emptiness inside her, and the only thing that would fill it was his touch on her skin, his voice in her ear, his lips pressed to hers.
Three times that day, she almost threw a coat over her pj’s and marched to the other cottage to declare her undying love.
Somehow, she stopped herself.
That evening, Hailey texted her.
I have a bad feeling. Are you all right?
She wrote back that she was fine.
Hailey replied:
Why am I not reassured? We need to talk.
Can’t right now. Busy.
Doing what, exactly?
Things. Lots of things...
When, then?
Soon.
You can’t put me off forever, Harp.
I love you, Lee-Lee. TTYS.
Early the next morning, on her second day off from dealing with Linc, Harper received a text from Mia Acevedo.
Got a minute? Can we talk?
Harper hit the phone icon. “Happy almost New Year. What’s up?”
“Sam and I have been talking. Business is really taking off. We need another designer and we need it to be you.”
Harper’s pulse went haywire. She made herself draw a slow, deep breath. “Is this a job offer?”
“Yes, it is. Can you move to Portland? We would love it if you could start, say, January 15?”
Her heart ached as it soared. She had no idea how things were going to work out with Linc. If they were over, she would rather be miles from him in Seattle—or better yet, Tanzania, or maybe Timbuktu.
But she wanted to work with Mia. The offer was a dream come true. And even if she and Linc weren’t destined to be a couple, there was room enough in Rose City for both of them.
Mia quoted a salary that Harper could actually live on—frugally, in a studio apartment. Which sounded pretty much perfect to her.
Harper said yes and promised to drive down the week after New Year’s. She would find herself a place to live, meet with Mia to fill out forms and discuss all the aspects of her new job with Acevedo Hybrid Homes.
When she hung up, she did a happy dance around the kitchen—after which she dropped into a chair at the table and burst into tears. She had the perfect starting job in her new career.
And she had no idea what was going to happen with Linc. She missed Maya and Jayden, yet here she sat in her pajamas for the second day, alone in the cottage that had seemed way too big and empty ever since Hailey had moved out.
She heard a car drive up outside and knew who it was without having to look. Sometimes it was like that between her and Hailey. One of them would think of the other.
And the other would appear.
Her sister came in through the short hall from the front door. “What’s going on here?” Hailey shrugged out of her coat, draped it on a chair and went straight to Harper. “Why are you crying?” She grabbed Harper’s hand and hauled her up into her arms.
Harper hugged her tight. “Now you’ve done it, got me sobbing again...”
“Again?”
“Shut up and hug me.”
Hailey did hug her. She held Harper close and made soothing noises until the crying stopped. “Better?”
“Mmm-hmm, a little.”
“All right, then.” Hailey guided Harper back into her chair, handed her a box of tissues, poured them each a cup of coffee and demanded, “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Harper let it all out—from her new job that would mean she would be living in Portland, to the awfulness of what had occurred Christmas night and even her self-defense strategy of avoiding Linc since then.
Hailey congratulated her on the new job—and then peered at her more closely. “You just said Linc texted you after the evil ex and the two mothers from hell finally left, that he asked you to come back. I don’t get why you’re crying. It’s so obvious the man’s in love with you.”
Harper just sniffled, waved a dismissing hand and shook her head.
But Hailey was Hailey. She ran the show. And that meant she kept the pressure on until Harper told the rest of it—about the “ring” that had turned out to be earrings. “And then, well, his ex showed up wearing the giant diamond he’d bought her.”
“But they are broken up, right?”
“Yes. They are.”
“It’s not his fault that his ex kept the ring and had the bad taste and terrible judgment to keep wearing it.”
“I know that. Of course, I do. But, Lee-Lee, he gave her a ring. It just hurt, that’s all. That I got the earrings and she got engaged to him.”
Hailey scooted up close and enfolded Harper in another much-needed hug. “Honey, men mess up. The good ones finally get it right. Linc Stryker is one of the good ones. You need not to let that man get away.”
She leaned her head on Hailey’s shoulder. “Easy for you to say.”
“Hey. Uh-uh.” Hailey put a finger under Harper’s chin. “Let me see those eyes.”
“Fine.” Harper glared at her.
“Don’t you see what’s going on here?”
“Um, nope. Not really...”
“Harp, this is your love story. You’ve got to own it. You’ve spent all your life behind the scenes, making the magic happen for the ones who take center stage. Now it’s your turn. This is when you need to be the center of attention. You can’t hide your light.”
“Ugh. You and your theater metaphors. I can’t even.”
Tenderly, Hailey guided a straggling curl behind Harper’s ear. “Sweetheart. Do you love him?”
She hard-swallowed and told the scary truth. “Yes. I do.”
“Then you need to step up and tell him so.”
* * *
Linc sat on the living room floor carefully combing the shiny brunette locks of Maya’s new Carla Marie doll. “How’s that?”
“O-kay!” Maya took the doll and began removing her dress. She was in love with Carla Marie’s new clothes, the ones Harper had made and given Maya for Christmas. Maya was constantly changing the doll’s outfits—meaning Linc had to do the buttoning and snapping that Maya’s chubby fingers couldn’t quite handle yet.
Harper...
Just thinking her name made him long to go find her. He hadn’t seen her since Christmas night and she wasn’t due back until tomorrow afternoon.
The waiting was killing him. He wondered constantly how she was doing, had to keep resisting the urge to call her—or better yet, march over to her cottage and beg her to talk to him, tell him everything that was bothering her, find a way to convince her that all he wanted was her. He kept going over what he needed to say to her, kept rehearsing how he might manage to tell her he loved her, would love her, forever, without scaring her away.
A Temporary Christmas Arrangement Page 19