by Celia Aaron
“I know, and I’m no prince.” I place it on the hood of my car. “I’m not even a good man.”
She crosses her arms in front of her as an older woman steps out along with a teenager.
“I’ve never been a good man. I’m selfish, cruel, stubborn, and destructive.”
“You ain’t making a very good case as to why I should let you near my daughter.”
“Daddy,” Lindsay says at the same time, and in the same tone, as her mother says, “Lionel.”
He lowers the gun and steps back.
“I’ve said and done horrible things, fired people on a whim, spited my brother at every turn, didn’t mourn my father or mother, and I’ve been an all-around nasty human being. And I was content to keep being that way.” I swallow hard, my mouth dry as I pour my black heart out in front of Lindsay’s entire family. “I would still be that way if it weren’t for you.”
Her sad sigh is like a gut punch. “I can’t change you, Crane. You have to change yourself.”
“I know that now. I do.” I step toward her, but her father and brother bristle, so I stop. “I’ve had this …” I pat my chest. “This hole inside me. One that grew bigger with each nasty thing I did. And I didn’t care. I wanted to be the worst, to hurt people, and to destroy my father’s business. But you.” I spread my hand over my heart. “You showed me that being kind shouldn’t be an option. It’s the only option. This whole time, you’ve been working so that Grant could follow his dreams and be in that show.”
“He tell you that?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You got to him. That’s why he texted me.” Her arms cross more tightly. “Go on.”
“You sacrificed chasing your dreams so he could have his. And then you did more. When my Santa hire flaked out, you took over. You didn’t want to let those kids down, and you didn’t. You made the holidays for so many people. All the store employees, the parents, the children—everyone. I’ve gotten so many emails from parents about Santa. About you. About the love and confidence you gave their children.”
She shakes her head minutely. “Do you remember what you said to me in the storeroom?”
Shame burns in my throat, but I nod. “I told you the kids don’t matter. That only their parents’ money does.”
Her mother puts a hand to her mouth, and her brother flexes his fists.
“But you wouldn’t have said that to me. You said it someone you thought didn’t matter. And I should’ve stopped this thing—” She motions back and forth between us. “Right then and there. But I didn’t because you came over and—” She stops abruptly and glances at her family, her cheeks heating.
Her mother covers her brother’s ears, but he ducks away from her.
I hate to agree with her, but I do. “You should have ditched me. I was no good for you. For anyone, really. But now I know I was wrong. About the store, about my brother, about Christmas—all of it.”
“So how do I know you’ve changed? After all, you’ve always treated me well. It’s other people you grind beneath your heel.”
It stings, but it’s fair. It’s true. “All I can do is prove it to you by my actions. Becca, the girl I fired the day you were hired?”
“Yes?”
“I personally offered to give her job back.”
“Did she take it?”
“She slammed her door in my face and told me she’d rather work in the sewers with the rats.”
Her brother snorts.
“What about all the others?” She loosens her stance a little.
“Henry is tracking them down for me. But I’ve offered a direct apology to every employee who heard my rant. Henry re-hired Higginbotham. You don’t know him, but he’s been pushing for better employee conditions.”
“Are you still part of the company?” her father asks.
“Yes. But only as a shareholder. I voluntarily resigned as chairman, and Henry will take over my seat. Higginbotham will serve as CEO. As of a few days ago, I’m unemployed.”
“You’re really going to stop, to give it up?” Hope lights in Lindsay’s eyes, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“It’s gone.” I nod.
“But now he’s broke, Linds. A scrub.” Her brother shakes his head.
“That doesn’t matter, Little G.”
“It sure as hell does. My Lindsay works hard enough without having to support you.” Her mother points at me, and I get the feeling she’s very good at dressing people down. Perhaps even better than me. A shiver rocks through me at the thought.
“I have plenty of money. Stocks, not just Marley’s stocks, and holdings. Real estate. And I can find other work.” I shrug and stuff my hands in my pockets. “At least I think I can. My reputation is a little—”
“Shitty,” Gable offers.
His mom smacks him in the back of the head. “Language.”
“I was going to say ‘iffy,’ but yes, same idea.”
Her father reaches down and pets the dog. “Lindsay, darlin’, it’s up to you. I’d just as soon as turn him away. Call me if you want him shot. My antique pickers Christmas special is comin’ on.”
“Lindsay, please. I know I don’t deserve a chance, but I’m begging you for one. Please.”
Her eyes water as she stares at me, and I don’t think it’s from the cold.
Please. I send a plea wish to Santa, if he’s out there, to grant me this one Christmas wish. Please let me get her back.
“I don’t know.” She steps back.
Her mother seems to let out a breath she’d been holding, and Gable smirks at me.
“You can’t just turn on a dime, can you? Go from bad to good?” She backs away another step, and it takes every bit of strength I have not to follow her. “No one can.”
“That’s right, sugar. He can’t.” Her dad whistles, and he and the dog go back inside. Her mother and brother follow, though her mother has to yank the still-smirking teenager away.
“Lindsay, I swear to you I’ll never hurt you like that again.” I move closer even though she skittishly retreats.
She wipes a tear from her cheek, and I curse myself for causing it.
“The thing is, I can’t be sure. I can’t trust myself when it comes to you.” She wipes another. “I want to believe you so badly, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” With that, she turns and goes inside, the light blue door slamming, leaving me standing in the cold, quiet day.
Chapter 22
Lindsay
“He’s still out there.” Grant walks into my room, his fuzzy slippers squeaking just a little on the wood floors.
“I know. Gable keeps an eye on him like it’s his job.”
“How long has it been?” he sits on my bed and fiddles with his new iPad.
“All day.”
“Cold out there.” He makes a brrrr sound.
“Don’t start.” I lie back and stare at the ceiling. “He can get in his car if he’s cold. Besides, weren’t you the one telling me he’s mean and I should take that into account?”
“Sure, but that was before he had a drunken meltdown and came face-to-face with his demons, then decided to change for the better and let love into his heart.”
“Have you been watching Hallmark movies again?”
He shrugs. “Only a few.”
I stare up at the wood beams. “He has to leave.”
“You going to make him?”
“No.” I press my palm to my forehead. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“Look, he called me, told me the groveling deal, and I told him all the reasons he doesn’t deserve you. He agreed with every one of them and told me his step-by-step plan for change, which includes therapy, distancing himself from Marley’s, and trying to re-establish his connection with his brother. I believe him.”
“The last time you believed a guy could change, that guy broke your arm.”
“That was different, and you know it.” He runs his hand along the spot where the fracture was. “Zac
h never really wanted to change. He just wanted to control me. And when he couldn’t? He hurt me. Zach would never wait around—not even for ten minutes—for me. He would’ve stormed out of here and jumped in bed with someone else by now.”
“Waiting all day isn’t a feat,” I counter.
“In the cold on Christmas Day when he could be nice and toasty in his penthouse with strumpets? Sounds like he’s trying.”
“Strumpets?”
“It’s a thing.” He nods vigorously.
“No more Hallmark movies for you.”
“I’ve got ‘Housewives’. Don’t worry.” He waves a hand. “Now go out there and tell him to leave. But dress warm.”
I suppose I should tell him to leave. I’m not going to just roll over, so waiting around isn’t going to do him any good. When I stand and start putting on layers, Grant smiles.
“That’s my girl.”
I roll my eyes and walk into the living room. Mama and Daddy are sitting together on the couch, her legs draped over him as he reads Garden & Gun and she does a cross-stitch.
“Going out, sweet pea?” Mama asks without looking up.
“Yeah, I’m just going to tell him to go on back to New York.”
Daddy does his characteristic “heh” and Mama keeps on cross-stitching.
“Put your boots on. It’s cold out there,” she says.
“I’m just going to tell him to go. I don’t need—”
“Boots, sweet pea.” She still doesn’t look up.
“Fine,” I grumble and pull my boots on, then walk outside. My stomach does a weird flip when I see his tall, lean frame leaning against his rental car. Gable’s muddy jeep sits beside it with squirrel tails flapping sadly from the antenna.
Crane stands straight and smiles when I approach. “Hi.”
“I just came out here to tell you to go.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t move, those green eyes sending unwanted tendrils of warmth snaking along my skin.
“So, you just go on.” I do a limp-wristed wave at his car.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Why not?” I put my hip out.
“Because I can’t leave without you.”
I laugh and try to make it sound real. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He steps toward me, and I look up into those eyes that have had me mesmerized from the moment I saw them. “Your brother came out here earlier to needle me. We ended up talking for a while.”
“You talked to Gable?”
“Sure. Mostly about football, but then I asked him about his Jeep.”
“So, you got Gable to open up with the usual redneck talking-points.” I tsk at him. “That’s too easy.”
“Not easy at all. I had to Google turkey calls and chitterlings. Do you have any idea how weird my search history is?”
I try not to smile. I try so hard, but I fail. And it’s a crack in my armor that Crane pounces on.
“If I remember correctly, we had an agreement between us.”
“I don’t remember any such thing.” I do. He’s talking about mudding.
“I think you do.” He opens his palm and dangles Gable’s key between his fingers. “You promised me a trip mudding if I ever came to your town. Here I am.”
“You want me to take you mudding on Christmas Day in the freezing cold?”
“I think you’re contractually obligated to do just that.”
I breathe out a white puff in the air. “No. This isn’t going to work.”
“A chance, Lindsay.” He reaches out, then drops his hand before he touches me. “All I want is a chance. If I disappoint you, you can walk away from me and never look back. But I want to show you that I can change, and I need you to believe in me again to do it.”
“You need to believe in yourself, Crane. I’m not magical.”
“You are to me.”
God, he had to say the perfect thing, didn’t he?
I reach out and swipe the key. “Get in. And strap yourself in tight.”
Chapter 23
Crane
I’ve always assumed that if I were in a life-threatening situation, that I’d have a deep, super-masculine yell. In fact, I assumed that I wouldn’t yell at all. After all, I’m known for being a total hardass. Imagine my surprise when I let out a scream. Yes, a scream, when Lindsay floors the gas and sends us sliding sideways across a cold, muddy field in the middle of the woods.
She laughs, her smile wide and beautiful as she turns the wheel hard the other way and sends us skidding again, our back tires throwing up mud all over the Jeep, some of it landing on me as we careen over the rough terrain.
My scream finally subsides, but her laugh doesn’t. The wind whips us, and I can see the bright pink in her cheeks as she shifts gears and speeds ahead, then slams on the brakes. We skid forward, the front of Jeep headed for the edge of the woods, but then she turns the wheel again, and mud goes shooting out from beneath the tires in a dark sheet.
Her laughter brings mine out, and pretty soon we are yelling and grinning as we do donuts and skid and make an even bigger mess out of the messy field. The mud is cold, the engine is loud, and the Jeep shudders and creaks, but we keep riding until the sun is low on the horizon. It’s a good thing, too, because I feel like I might be on the edge of car sickness when she pulls us onto the dry dirt and gravel road.
“You okay?” She looks over at me, her eyes bright and a splotch of mud on her cheek.
“I think I’m just glad to be alive after all that.”
She grins. “That’s the joy of mudding. Danger, thrills, and an appreciation for roads.”
“You’ve done this a lot?” I look out at the field.
“This, bonfires on the mountain with friends, skinny dipping in the summer—you name a country pastime, I’m certain I’ve done it.”
“Same here. I’ve been to Central Park plenty of times, believe you me.”
She points. “You can let go of the ‘oh-shit’ bar now.”
“Oh.” I pull my hand away as she laughs.
“Come on, city boy. Let’s get back to the house. We both need showers, and Mama is going to want to interrogate you.” She shifts it into gear.
My brain finally catches up with my ears. “Wait, I can come in?”
“You survived mudding with me.” She shrugs. “The least I can do is let you into the house. It’s Christmas. But don’t go thinking that we are—”
“I’m not thinking anything.” I clasp my freezing hands in front of me. “Just going to your house is all.”
“Right.” She pulls off down the dirt road that eventually changes into a badly paved lane. The wind whistles past, and I wish she’d worn a thicker jacket.
We hit a particularly bad pothole, then lose speed.
“Oh, no.” She frowns and pulls to the side of the road.
“What?”
“I think I may have popped a tire back there.” She kills the engine, and I can hear the slow release of air.
“This thing doesn’t have a spare. I’ll call Gable.” She reaches into her pocket.
Headlights appear down the road.
“Actually, that’s probably one of his friends. This part of road is on our property.”
I climb out and walk around to help her down. Shrugging out of my coat, I drape it over her shoulders.
“Thank you.” She hugs it around her and takes a surreptitious sniff.
The oncoming vehicle stops. It’s a huge red pickup truck with reindeer antlers on the grill and a giant Rudolph nose.
The driver side window rolls down, and Lindsay gasps.
“It’s you!”
“Howdy, folks. Car trouble?” A man with a pure white beard, pink cheeks, blue eyes, and white hair opens the door and steps down.
“How did you get here?” Lindsay asks.
“You know him?” I wrap my arm around her.
“It’s him.” She points as he walks around to the blown tire. “Don’t you see? The dru
nken Santa from the store!”
“I’ve got some Fix-A-Flat and an air compressor. I’ll have you two on the road in a jiffy,” he calls. “How about you get on up in the sleigh—” He coughs and looks at us through the open Jeep. “That’s what I call my truck. The sleigh. Anyway—” He disappears again. “Get on in there and get warm. Five minutes, tops.”
“It’s Santa!” Lindsay points.
I press my palms to her cold cheeks. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm. You didn’t bonk your head while we were mudding, did you?”
“Can’t you tell it’s him?” She lets me lead her around the truck and help her in. I slide in next to her, the warm air vents soothing the chill off me.
“I saw a man who looked sort of like Santa.” I shrug. “But the drunk Santa didn’t look like him. He was always so … haggard, I guess is the word.” I’m just glad to be close to her, to have my arm around her, even if she’s the one losing it right now.
“No, it’s him.” She peers out the window, but he’s hidden behind the Jeep. The hiss of what I guess is an air compressor pops on.
I gently turn her chin so she’s facing me. “Okay.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes.” I’m more interested in her than the man repairing our muddy tire.
“Seriously, he’s the real Santa. I know it!”
I wipe the smudge from her cheek with my sleeve. “I think you’re right.”
“You do?” Her gaze flutters to my lips.
“Yes. I asked for a Christmas miracle earlier today, and now I have it.”
“What did you ask for?” She leans closer as the scent of cinnamon and peppermint swirls around us in the warm truck.
“A second chance.”
A familiar sparkle of mischief graces her eyes. “How do you know you got one?”
“Because …” I lean into her and claim her lips in a kiss that makes me whole again. Sweet at first, then more. Her hands go around my neck and I pull her close, pressing her against me. I kiss her senseless, staking my claim and giving her all of my heart, if she wants it. I am hers, and I wish, more than anything, that she’ll be mine.
Pulling back, I take a breath and tell her the truth that’s been growing ever since we first met. “I love you, Lindsay. I’ve loved you from the start, and I know I’m never going to stop. If you’ll have me, I will love you forever, and I won’t let you down. Never again.”