When Snowflakes Never Cease (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  That settled something in him she hadn’t seen unsettled. He dropped the punches on a green mat on the island and turned to her. The look in his eyes… the way he reached for her hair… Probably something she read to him from a book. The way he swept it back and allowed his thumb to trail along her jaw as he did. Bless that woman.

  “Can’t figure out what’s gotten into me, Ronni. You’re as different from any woman I’d ever imagine being interested in, but for reasons I can only hope to get to explore someday, I am.”

  “So you said.” An inane response if she’d ever heard one, but what did one say to that?

  He would have touched her face again. She could already feel it, but his hand lowered to her shoulder. “If you want toe-curling kisses, I’ve got it on good authority that I can deliver.”

  But you don’t kiss women for sport. Unfortunately.

  I’m the biggest fool on the planet. She’s going to tell me to quit dreaming and start punching. Can’t blame her, either.

  “You’re not—” She turned and strode from the room. “Bring those things and some paper, will you?”

  Hank grinned. She might not know it, but her voice shook. He had affected her.

  By the time he arrived in the kitchen, she was on the phone with Yola down at the airport. “—all the names. Ages, too. I think I might have enough bills in my wallet to do origami shapes to tie onto the bags for the kids. They might like that. I’ll give bigger bills to the older kids… yeah.”

  “Bills?”

  She turned to him. “Dollar, five-dollar… et cetera. A gift, you know?”

  An idea popped up and smacked him upside the head. He held out his hand for her phone, but Ronni turned away. “I’ve got this.”

  “And I might be able to do you one better, so give me the phone.”

  If that look of disgust meant what he thought it did, Ronni Carlisle wasn’t accustomed to letting anyone tell her what to do. If the subsequent smile meant what he thought it did, she liked it, too. She passed him the phone. “Don’t get used to me being such a doormat.”

  “No one would ever accuse you of that.”

  Yolanda’s voice nearly pierced his eardrum when he spoke. “Hank Wright! Was that flirting I heard goin’ on? And why are you with her? She’s supposed to be stuffed into a room at Bev’s.”

  “Bev’s closed. She’s in Ma Meers’ apartment instead.”

  “And you’re in there with her?”

  He rubbed his neck and hoped that would account for the redness that had to be seeping there about now. “Actually, we’re in the kitchen making cookies and things for the passengers to have a Christmas—Ronni’s idea. But she gave me one when she was asking for those names. Can you do a thing where you find out what people are hoping for this Christmas? I’ve got a stack of gifts here already, and a house full of stuff I could gift. Let’s see if we can make this a real Christmas for them. I’ll dig out a couple of hams and everything.”

  “Really, Hank?”

  “Just get me lists, Yola. We’ll handle the rest. Oh, and leave that back door unlocked. We’ll be comin’ in around four to start decorating.”

  That earned him a hug from Ronni when he handed back her phone. “That’s genius! Hopefully, you’ve got some knitters and crafters and…” She swept the house, looking for things before stopping. “And here I am, giving away your stuff.”

  “Glad to see it gone—most of it. Peg was a bit of a hoarder. I left stuff the way it was at first—for the girls’ sake. But here and there, I’ve removed things I never liked. Sent pictures of it all to the girls. They’ve never wanted the vase I chucked or the silly sign about the root word in diet being ‘die.’”

  An inscrutable expression crossed her face. Hank almost asked what was wrong when she turned to grab a punch and a piece of plaid Christmas paper. The way she attacked that thing made him feel sorry for any stapler she’d ever owned. The question came from out of nowhere.

  “You liked her just the way she was, didn’t you?”

  “Who?” Understanding hit before she could continue. “Peg? Yeah… she was one in a million.” Then he understood. “Ronni?”

  She whacked the handle of the punch with the heel of her hand, and it spat out another heart. “Hmm?”

  “I loved every inch of Peg from the dimple in her left cheek to the squeezable elbows and the way she just kind of molded around me when I held her. I loved the way she drove me crazy, bringing in all kinds of odd things to ‘decorate’ the house.” When Ronni looked up at him, he added. “Wouldn’t change a second of our life together—except maybe the times I snapped at her for being human. Wish I could take those back.”

  “We all have those moments.” Her eyelids lowered, and she went back to churning out tags. “Like yesterday at the airport.”

  Was it only yesterday? Odd… “It’s forgiven on my end. You take care of it with Yola tomorrow, and that’ll be perfect.” He’d just settled his hands on her shoulders and leaned close when he remembered that he didn’t have the right to do it. Still, pulling away then would be worse… as far as Peg would have thought, anyway. “Ronni, I love that gal even today. I’d give anything to have her back, and yet I wouldn’t, either.”

  She turned to look at him—lips parted… kissably close. He swallowed back emotion and smiled.

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “No. No I wouldn’t. She’s home. I want it, sure. But she’s home. That’d be the most selfish thing I could do, wishing her back here.”

  “What you’re saying then, is…” Ronni would have continued, but he interrupted her.

  “What I’m saying is that I loved—probably always will love her.” As much as he tried, Hank had a hard time trying to explain without making more out of a little attraction than he meant to. “Peg and I talked about what would happen when she was home. She reminded me that God said it isn’t good for man to be alone and told me to take a year or two to be sure I wasn’t going to saddle someone with the worst of my grief. Then I was supposed to keep my eyes open for who the Lord might bring.”

  The punch stuck, and it gave Hank the perfect excuse to move away as he worked to unjam it. Ronni just kept tying tag after tag to bag after bag. He’d about decided the conversation had gone well when she reminded him of why he’d told her all that in the first place.

  “She sounds like what my dad always called a ‘tough act to follow.’”

  “She would be. No one could replace her, Ronni.”

  At that, Ronni whirled to face him, ribbon in one hand, paper and scissors in the other. “Either you’re going to say…” She dropped her voice to a bass so deep it outdid Hank’s by a mile. “‘But I’m not trying to replace her,’ or you’re going to say, ‘Don’t take my talking about attraction too seriously. I just had a moment.’” A glance up showed her irritated more than hurt. “Which is it?”

  “I—”

  “Never mind. Don’t bother. Just fix that thing and punch out another thirteen of these. I’m going to go fold money.”

  She’d just finished her third origami heart when Hank arrived with a basket of cookies, all ready for names. “Ronni, I thought you had a call to make this morning.”

  It took everything she had to keep her voice calm and steady as she said, “Got a text message. They said my proposal was thorough enough to take into the meeting. They’ll call when they make a decision—either way.”

  “Sounds promising.”

  This time Ronni eyed him. “You think so?”

  “Sure. If he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t submit it to the rest, would he?”

  True as that might be, he’d forgotten something. “Yes… but the meeting was over two hours ago and nothing. Haven’t heard a word.”

  She expected a “That’s not good,” but it didn’t come. Instead, he nodded. “I see your concern, but I can’t imagine anyone withholding bad news over a holiday.”

  The only thing that helped keep her mind off the frustration was folding, so she went
back to another dollar bill. This time, an elephant. She was sick of hearts. No flowers, either.

  “Can I look at it?” Hank’s index finger poked the heart. “All those little folds…”

  “Sure. I think I might be able to do a Christmas tree. Seems like…” She scrolled through Google for instructions. “Yesss! There’s one that has a star on top. It’s both cute and practical… something to hang it from.”

  He scooted a chair as close to her as he could and watched her follow the steps on the YouTube video. After a minute or two, he knew exactly when to pause it for her while she made or remade the folds work. After another minute or two, she’d gotten to the place where when he leaned down to scratch his ankle, she missed the near contact.

  Not acceptable. He doesn’t kiss for sport. I don’t flirt when it can’t go anywhere. She sighed. Usually.

  “If it’s too much, Yola will call back with that list in no time. I’m sure—”

  “No, no. It’s not too much. I find it relaxing. I do it on dates, you know.”

  He leaned closer again. “Origami?”

  “Yep, hearts for the women servers, usually stars for the men. It gives my fingers something to do while I’m trying to make small talk—especially with a total dud.”

  “Guess that makes me the king of the duds, then…”

  Ronni stopped folding and glared. “I have a feeling there’s a joke in there somewhere, but I can’t imagine anything funny about you being a dud.”

  “Nice compliment. Thank you.” He winked, her stomach flipped and flopped, and he explained. “Well, if you do that folding during a dud date, then with a pile of those things…”

  “But this isn’t a date.” The moment she said it, Ronni wished she hadn’t.

  Something in the way his hands stilled, the way he missed the cue to stop the video, the way he leaned closer—it all hinted at something she instinctively knew she wanted, despite not knowing what it was. He winked again and murmured, “I’ll be sure to pay attention if I ever convince you to go out with me. If you pull out money, I know I’d better step up my game.”

  “Seems like we have a problem.”

  “What’s that?” When she didn’t answer, Hank nudged her and said again, “What’s that?”

  She tweaked the last point of the star and set down the tree. When she caught his gaze, Ronni managed to croak out, “You’ll never convince me…”

  Hank’s gaze fell.

  “—unless you take the trouble to ask.” Her conscience protested. You don’t flirt when it can’t go anywhere? What do you call that? Ronni refused to accept the rebuke. I said usually. Hank’s the exception.

  She wanted him to ask. Hank almost couldn’t believe it. And, if he read her right, she wasn’t aware that she really wanted it. When that finally hit her, she’d resist. “Well, Peg always did say I expected her to read my mind—just like a woman.”

  “I’m not a mind reader.”

  “Neither was she.” It might not have been good form to mention one’s first wife while attempting to ask a woman out, but Peg was almost as much of him as he was. It would be ridiculous to even try it. “So, Veronica Carlisle, will you go out with me?” He swept an arm to the dining room picture window. “I recommend after this mess is over, but I can whip up a nice dinner for us—”

  His phone rang. A glance showed Yolanda’s name. “It’s Yola. Probably with the list. We’re not done with this conversation.”

  “Yes.”

  “No, we’re—”

  “Yes, I’ll go out with you. Now answer that.”

  Hank turned to go grab a pen and pad of paper. “Hey, Yola! Got those names and wishes for me?”

  Yolanda sighed before jumping into a conversation at full blast. “Some are ridiculous, Hank. I know you can’t possibly manage them, but…”

  “I’ll do something to make them think of it anyway—gag gift, maybe.”

  Though she didn’t sound convinced, Yola began. “Okay, then. First, there’s Amie—age seven. Wants a dress for her new doll her grandma gave her. Samuel, five, wants a flute. Jordan, thirteen, wants a snowboard….”

  The list continued. Yolanda had done well. For as many people as she could, she’d found hobbies, collections—the works. And from what he could tell, with a little creativity, he could pull them all off.

  “There’s just one other guy. Seamus Clark. He’s an odd duck. Pleasant, but won’t cooperate. All he does is say he’ll be happy when he gets back to the land of mocha lattes and sun.”

  “Can’t you get—”

  “I tried, Hank!” Yola growled. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. I told him it would be more fun for everyone if he just gave me a favorite TV show—anything. Then I thought maybe he didn’t celebrate Christmas. Nope, he does—of a sort.”

  “Well, Scrooge will have a gift regardless. What’s the last thing you think he’d like?”

  Ronni shot him a look.

  “Well… doubt he’d like lingerie, but I wouldn’t recommend that.”

  “Ronni can help me figure out something. Anyone else?”

  He found the phone plucked from his hands. Ronni turned away from him and said, “Yolanda, this is Ronni Carlisle. What about you? What can we bring that’ll make this mess of a holiday seem a little less stressful?”

  Hank thought he heard her say she wanted to sip mimosas on an island, but he supposed she could have said a trip to Mimosa Island. Those islands off the coast of Georgia had been one of Peg’s dreams. Some people wanted Hilton Head or Myrtle Beach. Peg wanted Mimosa. Wish I had the funds to send her.

  Once he had the phone in hand again, Hank promised to do his best for everyone. “It’ll be better than nothing for sure. Any word on the plane?”

  “We’re supposed to get a solid dumping tomorrow evening. Sorry, Hank, but you’re stuck with her for another couple of days at least.”

  After a smile at Ronni, he said, “Merry Christmas to me.” Then he winked.

  Hank stood, a pad of sticky notes in hand, and wrote down the contents of each box he’d set on the dining table. Lego set—boy. It went on a package wrapped in paper with Christmas trees on it. The next box was an old-fashioned Spirograph. He’d thought his seven-year-old granddaughter might like the novelty of it. He wrote that down. Spirograph.

  All the while, Ronni protested. “No! Your grandkids need to know their grandfather—”

  “Cared more about giving them stuff, when they’d already gotten a boatload of loot from the other grandparents, than he did about people who got nothing? Yeah, that’s what they need.”

  Still, she jerked a pink and silver-wrapped box from his hands. “Grandpa gifts are special, Hank!”

  “No!” He glared at her but softened when he saw how truly upset she was. “Fine, fine. How about this?”

  She stuffed the box behind her as if he’d just forget it existed if he couldn’t see it. “What?”

  “When the roads clear, I’ll drive you back to Los Angeles myself. You can go shopping with me to replace the gifts—help me wrap them. I’ll tell them all that the woman I hope to convince to give me half a chance helped pick them out. That’ll fix number five on your list if you’re right. That might just give me two out of seven. Those are better odds than when you first told me.”

  As much as he wanted to take a couple of minutes to panic over her reaction to that, Hank stepped to the right and wrote down 1000-Piece Puzzle and slapped it on a gift wrapped in white and silver. The pink box appeared on the table. Hank couldn’t help a quick side hug. “Thanks, Ronni.”

  “I still disagree.”

  “Then why’d you give in?”

  The hint of a sly smile appeared on her lips before she turned away. “You said you never did what you didn’t want to do. I figured that probably meant you always did what you did want. So, if you’re going to do it anyway, at least I get something out of it.”

  The verbal cease-fire lasted a good minute and a half. Once she’d given up on changing his mind, R
onni went back to folding every bill in her wallet into shapes. Elephants, wreaths, bells, hearts, dogs, trees, and stars. If he’d counted right, she’d already folded nearly a hundred dollars’ worth of little “ornaments.”

  It seemed a waste now that they had gifts and ideas for gifts. “You don’t have to give up your money now. We’ve got everything we need.”

  “Because only you get to give?”

  “No… you spent all that time making cookies and cocoa. You don’t—”

  She reached into her wallet for the next bill. A twenty. “Save your breath.”

  Call it contrariness, orneriness, or sheer bullheadedness, but something in those three little words set off Hank’s worst side. He snatched at the bill. Ronni held fast. It ripped almost down the middle—lengthwise, no less.

  “You owe me twenty dollars.” Ronni glared at him. “Pay up.”

  “Why? You’re throwing it away anyway.”

  She stood up, shoving the chair back enough it nearly toppled to the floor. “Because,” she bit out, “you destroyed my property. Replace it.”

  “I will.” The smile that formed faded again as he added, “When I drop you off at your home.”

  Ire turned to amusement as the petite woman did her level best to intimidate him. Chest puffed out, jaw clenched, eyes blazing, she advanced on him ready to jab her fingernail into his chest. Because that’ll set me quivering in my boots.

  “You don’t get to control everything—control me. I bet Peg let you, but I won’t. Think about that before you try to tell me what I can and cannot do with my own stuff.” She plopped down and muttered, “And before you get the erroneous idea that I’m giving in by not snatching your wallet from your back pocket, just…” She glared even harder. “Just… just know that I’m not.”

  Feeling a bit flustered? Hank had two options. Keep her flustered or tempt her to do something… more. He chose the latter. On double-speed, he slapped a sticky note with the contents of each gift on the box and went to clean up more in the kitchen. Ronni didn’t even notice he’d left. Uh, oh…