“Yeah, he’s gone through a couple of girlfriends,” Renata said, and her eyes turned sad. “But I’m the one with the kids most of the time, so...”
“Is Seb a good guy?” Jen asked.
Renata brightened. “Yeah, he really is. He’s...he’s a big teddy bear. He’s really sweet.”
“No pressure, but it must be nice to have someone asking you out.”
It was nice having a guy cook her dinner, too, and having him walk her back home... Maybe a little too nice.
Renata sighed. “It is and it isn’t. I like Seb—a lot. It’s just that I’m afraid of falling for a guy and having it turn out like it did with Ivan.” Renata blushed and shook her head. “This is where it stops. I’m not interested in another relationship. I’ve got the kids to worry about.”
Renata glanced over her shoulder again, and Jen followed her gaze toward the little sales hut. Seb stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. He had that lumberjack kind of look about him, and his blue eyes were locked on Renata. When she caught him, he dropped his gaze as if trying to find something he’d dropped. If Renata was vulnerable, maybe Seb was a little bit, too.
“Did Angelina text you yet?” Renata asked.
“I had the notifications turned off because I was driving,” Jen said. “Let me check.”
She pulled her phone out of her purse and saw the text.
“She wants to do dinner tomorrow evening?” Jen asked.
“There was a cancelation at the lodge restaurant, and Angelina said she hated to waste a table. Besides, at this time of year, we can all use a little moral support,” Renata replied.
“Won’t the others be busy with family?” Jen asked.
“Family is why we need the support!” Renata said with a laugh. “My family includes three kids who are fighting with their father right now, and an ex-husband who keeps leaning on me to fix his relationship issues with his kids. I don’t know about you, but I need a dinner out with a few women who understand what it’s like to be single over the holidays.”
“Yeah, I could use it, too,” Jen agreed.
“I should go pay for my tree,” Renata said. “Seb said he’d help me get it tied onto the roof of my car, so...”
“Right.” Jen couldn’t help but smile at that. “Enjoy.”
Renata rolled her eyes. “See you tomorrow night.”
Jen turned back to the Christmas trees and looked up at their aromatic branches. She glanced over her shoulder once to see Renata and Seb heading out of the lot together, a tree over Seb’s shoulder. Life went on—wasn’t that what she’d been noticing since she’d arrived in Mountain Springs? Life continued, even after a woman’s life was torn apart and her heart was left in tatters. But the life that continued wasn’t quite what she’d imagined, either.
She and Lisa still weren’t connecting all that easily, and the moral support she’d found in her hometown was coming from relative strangers instead of the family she’d hoped to be counting on.
Funny how things turned out.
Jen stopped in front of an eight-foot spruce. It was huge, and it would be absolutely breathtaking once she decorated it...but it was too much of everything—too much Christmas, too much celebration, too much confidence in her new position here in town. She felt like she should be starting out with something smaller.
“How big of a tree are you looking for?” someone asked. She turned to see a young man standing behind her.
“I’m not sure. I’ve got a pretty big space to fill,” Jen admitted.
“If you’ve got the space, this one will be amazing,” he replied. “I chopped it down myself. It’s got perfect shape, and it’s really full. How high are your ceilings?”
So Jen bought a Christmas tree—a massive Christmas tree that she was assured would be truly gorgeous. She didn’t doubt it. But who would be sitting in front of it this holiday?
Just Jen, with her tattered heart and ambitious hopes for the old mansion. Maybe she was hoping the old house that had represented prosperity and success to her as a little girl could somehow transform her into a glossier, braver, more idealized version of herself. Because that mansion demanded more than some ordinary little tree in a corner. It wanted a huge, glittery display of Christmas joy right in the center windows. And that house demanded more of Jen, too.
She was crazy for buying this tree, wasn’t she? And maybe she was a little crazy having dumped her divorce settlement into an emotional purchase the size and shape of her childhood heart.
CHAPTER TEN
NICK MOVED THE electric sander slowly over a cupboard door. He’d taken them off their hinges, and they lay on top of wooden supports as he worked on them, gently removing layers of white paint from the hardwood.
His mind wasn’t on the job, though. He’d been thinking about last night, and the impulsive kiss on Jen’s cheek. If he’d just helped her across the street and left, there would be no problem. But he’d done something that changed their balance—he’d definitively crossed the line between friends and something more—whatever this was. He wasn’t normally like this. He could keep his head and heart separated pretty successfully, but when it came to Jen, something seemed to draw him in. It wasn’t just that she was in a similar situation—divorced and with some very good reasons to stay single for the time being—but she was different, interesting and too much like his ex-wife.
Jen might look very different than his ex, and her personality might be a lot different, too, but she was the same type—successful, educated and driven. Jen was the kind of woman who wouldn’t be satisfied with a man like him for long. Maybe Jen wouldn’t be quite so cruel as Shari had been, but she’d still be unhappy.
Yet, he’d kissed her...chastely enough, but still. In the moment it had felt right, and he hadn’t wanted to just walk away and let the evening fade. He’d wanted to do something—seal it somehow.
He turned off his sander just in time to hear the front door open. He headed through the dining room and saw Jen toss her purse on a side table.
“Hi!” she said. “Do you think I could borrow you for a minute?”
“Yeah, you bet.” He brushed his hands off and crossed the front room. “How big of a tree did you get?”
“Well...” Jen smiled uncertainly. “Eight feet, the guy said. And it’s supposed to be a wide one, too.”
Nick followed her out the front door without bothering to put on a coat. The tree that was tied to the top of her SUV hung over the front and the back, and he let out a low whistle.
“That’s a tree!” he said.
“Anything less felt...like not enough for the house, you know?” she said, and she looked a little pained as if she was rethinking that.
“You said you wanted to just enjoy Christmas, right?” he said. “This is a good start.”
It took a couple of minutes to untie the tree, and then he rolled it off the top of the vehicle so as not to scratch the paint. Jen took the lighter end, and they started toward the house, but after a couple of yards, she stopped.
“Sorry, I need to rest for a second,” she said, putting her end down and rubbing her hands together. She braced herself then lifted it again.
This was a big tree, and it was a bit unwieldly, but it wasn’t too heavy for him alone. He carried lumber and large pieces of equipment on a regular basis, building up his physique. He was tall and muscular, but his bulk came from hard work. He didn’t like seeing her struggle under the weight of it.
“Jen, I can do it,” he said.
“What?” She turned, and he felt an unexpected rush of tenderness toward her. Nothing seemed easy for her right now—her gallery, her divorce, her son...this tree.
“Let go,” he said.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “It’s really heavy.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Let go.”
Jen released t
he tree, and he readjusted his grip toward the center of the trunk before hoisting it once more. It was easier to carry it alone, and he felt better not watching her struggle. Jen hurried ahead to open the door for him, and he carried it through and into the entryway.
“Where do you want it?” he asked.
Jen shut the door behind them. “I was hoping to put it in the front window. I’ve got the stand set up there already.”
In years past the old lady used to have a massive tree in the exact same spot, sparkling with lights that illuminated the entire space. It was a nice thought to have a tree there again.
Nick carried the spruce over. The stand looked like it would be big enough to support this tree. He moved the stand with his foot, and then hefted the tree upright and angled the stump down into it.
“I’m going to need you to hold this—” he said, and Jen hurried to his side and grabbed the tree by the twine that held its branches in.
For the next few minutes they adjusted the tree until it was straight, and then he screwed in the supports that would keep it upright.
“That should do it,” he said, and he stood back up again. The tree loomed high above the top of the windows.
“It’s huge, isn’t it?” Jen said.
Nick pulled a knife from his belt and cut the twine. The boughs sprang outward in a rush, the smell of pine and a powdering of snow launching into the room. It was beautifully shaped. He pulled the twine out of the branches and stepped back, glancing over at Jen. Her gaze moved up the length of it and a smile broke over her face.
“I like it,” she said.
He felt an unexplainable rush of satisfaction at her expression. He had nothing to do with this tree, besides carrying it in, but seeing her look that pleased warmed him.
“It’s great,” he agreed. “Nice pick.”
“I tend to reach for too much,” she said. “I think, why not me? Why can’t I do it? And it doesn’t always work...”
“Jen...” he said quietly.
She looked over at him, and her gaze had turned melancholy.
“This is a beautiful tree. It’s not too much. And neither is this house. I think it all fits you, if you ask the guy who’s renovating your kitchen.”
“I don’t know if you have the time,” Jen said, casting him a hesitant look. “But if you wanted to help me decorate...”
Nick could feel the smile tugging at his lips. “Sure. Contrary to popular belief around here, I really do like Christmas.”
She met his smile with a relieved one of her own. “It’s hard enough having Christmas alone without decorating the tree alone, too, you know? I think I wanted to avoid that.”
Jen pulled a string of lights out of a cardboard box.
“It’s not so bad,” he said. “I’ve gotten used to it.”
She glanced over and met his gaze. “How’s it going with Amelia?”
“We had a talk,” he said. “I’m not sure how good it was, but... I left it too long, you know? I should have tangled with her sooner.”
“She’s intimidating, though,” Jen said.
“Do you think?” he asked.
“They’re young and convinced they’re right. And we’re—”
“Not old,” he interrupted with a low laugh.
“Definitely not,” she agreed, but she laughed, too. “But I remember being a kid and seeing people our age and thinking they were ancient.”
“That goes both ways,” he replied. “I see young adults my daughter’s age, and they don’t look so grown up to me. Just big kids, you know?”
Jen smiled. “I really do. I want to make sure they eat and encourage them to make good choices. There’s nothing cool left about me anymore.”
Nick laughed. “Amelia thinks you’re cool.”
“Amelia hasn’t seen the mom side of me.”
Nick didn’t talk parenting stuff too often, and there was a thirsty part of his heart that missed this...having his daughter around to butt heads with, and support, and be proud of. He missed being an active dad, and somehow, Jen seemed to bring that out in him.
Nick watched as Jen nestled the first string of lights into the bottom boughs of the tree, looping them around. That string of lights ended, and Jen grabbed another one, and they continued the process. After plugging in the third, Nick took the lights from her fingers, and for just a moment they stopped and their eyes met. His breath caught, and he was the first to look away.
“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll grab a ladder.”
Nick handed back the lights, and for just a moment, he closed his fingers down over hers. She could tug free if she wanted, but she didn’t move. Her lips parted, and she sucked in a quick breath. What was it about her that made him want to toss all logic aside? He let go with a rueful little smile and headed back to the kitchen where his tools and supplies were. A minute later he came back with a short ladder and set it up in front of the tree.
Jen had opened a box of ornaments. She pulled out something swaddled in white cloth. He leaned over to take a closer look as she unwrapped something silver.
“Mistletoe?” he said.
“It always goes on the tree first,” she replied, and her cheeks pinked. “I’ve had this since I was a little girl. My grandma gave it to me with the condition that I didn’t kiss anyone under it until I was much older.”
Nick reached out and took her hand, lifting it higher so he could get a closer look at the little silver ball of carved leaves she held. A bell inside it tinkled softly.
“How old did you have to be to kiss someone under it?” he asked, and he caught her gaze.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a breathy laugh. “At least forty.”
The rest of the room seemed to fade away, and all the reasons why he should stop this seemed to drain out of his head.
“How come it goes on first?” he whispered.
“I don’t know... I’ve always done it that way. When I was little, I used to dream of the man I’d kiss under the mistletoe,” she said, her voice soft.
“Lucky guy,” he breathed.
“I’ve never kissed anyone under it,” she said, and her gaze flicked up to meet his. “For whatever reason, it just never happened. Sam wasn’t really that into Christmas, and boyfriends before him... I don’t know.”
Never... That thought was both a little sad and irresistible. He stepped closer and he pulled her hand against his chest, putting his palm over her fingers. He could feel the little ornament in her hand resting against his shirt, and his heart sped up as he looked down at her.
“What if I kissed you under it?” he asked softly.
“Pity?” she asked, teasing.
“Far from it,” he said, his voice lowered. “More like weakness.”
He should stop—right? He should pull back...but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Instead, he leaned closer, his mouth hovering over hers, and he felt the whisper of her breath against his lips.
“I’m going to blame this on the mistletoe,” he murmured, and lowered his lips to hers.
Jen leaned into him, her hands pressed against his chest, and she let out a soft sigh. He kissed her gently at first, but then she tipped her face upward and he deepened the kiss. Nothing else seemed to matter—just the feeling of this woman leaning against him and the softness of her lips under his...
The very small part of his brain that still clung to the vestiges of his logic knew that he’d regret this.
Nick pulled back and shut his eyes for a moment.
“How wrong was that?” he murmured.
“I don’t know...”
He opened his eyes and looked down at her plumped lips. Kissing her cheek had been stepping over the line...this kiss sailed right past it. Whatever—this could all be part of the same mistake...
And he slid his arms around her
waist and tugged her back against him. If he was going to regret a kiss, he might as well make it one to remember.
* * *
NICK’S LIPS MOVED slowly over Jen’s, and she found herself responding to him, kissing him back. There was a faint voice in the back of her head telling her she should probably stop this, but it faded when Nick’s hand moved up to her cheek and his rough fingers touched her face ever so gently. He was strong—his chest under her fingertips was muscled and firm. This was crazy, and she knew it, but here in his arms, the warmth of his body emanating against her, his beard tickling her face, she couldn’t bring herself to pull back.
They’d been dancing around whatever attraction was stewing between them, and she’d assumed they’d simply continue that dance... His hands moved over her back, tugging her closer, and she leaned into his embrace. She couldn’t seem to pull together two coherent thoughts, and so she stopped trying, and she exhaled a soft sigh.
Nick pulled back, his lips still hovering over hers, and when she opened her eyes she found his dark gaze searching hers.
“Do I need to apologize for that?” he murmured.
“Nope,” she said, and she smiled, then straightened, tugging out of his arms. He let them drop at his sides. The air was colder on her own. The mistletoe ornament hung off one of her fingers, and she looked down at it, feeling the heat come to her cheeks.
“Call it a mistletoe kiss, and we never have to speak of it again,” he said, and she could hear playfulness in his voice. Would he rather not talk about it? She turned and hung the silver ball on the tree, safely out of reach. But when she looked over at him again, she could see that same glimmer of intensity in his gaze.
“So do you kiss all of your clients if they’re within reach of mistletoe?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, his voice low. “I told you before I’m hard to nail down.” He dropped his gaze. “I haven’t kissed anyone in a couple of years, truthfully. Mistletoe or not.”
“Oh...” She felt the breath squeeze out of her lungs.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he said. “I’m just saying, I’m not some kind of player. That was definitely out of bounds. I probably do owe you an apology.”
Mountain Mistletoe Christmas Page 14