“Mom would be rolling over in her grave, Jemma.”
And there it was. The familiar push and pull between parents, the guilt that had dictated every single move for over a decade. The anger had been the reason she hadn’t answered the phone calls or letters before. First, the loyalty to her mother. And then, when Marion Banks had died in a car accident two years ago, the guilt had taken over completely. Now Jemma was loyal to her mom’s memory. Or more specifically, her ghost.
“He doesn’t have anyone,” she said again. “I couldn’t say no.”
“You’re a better person than me.”
“Not better. Just different.”
“Nicer.”
She smiled, looking out the window to the steely sky above. It’d be dark soon. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s okay. I’m not nice.”
“Do you think you’ll ever come see him?”
“Maybe when hell freezes over.”
“It’s pretty frozen here. But it’s definitely not hell.”
“I’ve seen pictures. It’s beautiful.”
Jemma rolled over on the bed, sinking further down in the fluff. “I’m not gonna lie. It ain’t too shabby. Except for all the Christmas stuff everywhere.”
“You love Christmas.”
“I do not.”
“Come on. That’s a load if I ever heard one.”
“Maybe I used to like it. Before Dad left.”
Justine remained quiet on the other end of the line. They’d both loved it. It was just one other thing they’d had to say goodbye to, and the thought that maybe their mother shouldn’t have taken it away hadn’t really occurred to Jemma until this very moment.
Frowning, she pinched the chocolate wrapper between her fingers, wishing she had an entire box full.
“Anyway,” she said. “I’m here and settled in. I’m going over to Dad’s tomorrow to meet his physical therapist and learn about his rehab program.”
“Did...” Justine’s voice hitched on the other end of the line, and she cleared her throat. “Did you guys talk about anything? Did he ask...”
She didn’t finish, but Jemma knew what she’d been about to say. Had he asked about her? It broke Jemma’s heart. There were so many unresolved feelings there, and she’d felt each and every one of them personally.
“We didn’t really have time to talk,” she said softly. “But I’m sure—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Justine cut her off. “It really doesn’t. Look, I’ve got dinner on the stove. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Sure. Bye.”
Jemma stared out the window as the phone went appropriately dead.
Pushing open the big, heavy door that led outside the Graff lobby, Jemma pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck. She should’ve taken Bob’s advice and gone up to her room to get something warmer. She was rusty where being outdoors for any length of time was concerned. For the last few years, it was just her computer and a pair of bunny slippers. She’d forgotten how cold Montana could get if not prepared, even for a short evening stroll.
The air was biting, and by the look of the clouds gathering overhead, it might snow.
Burying her hands in her pockets, she headed toward Main Street. It was a Saturday night, and she passed several couples out walking hand in hand. For a lonely minute, she let herself wonder where they might be heading. Dinner, maybe? Then ice-skating at Miracle Lake afterward? She’d read the Marietta information pamphlet at the hotel, and her heart had skipped a beat at the ice-skating. Practically fluttered at the horse-drawn sleigh rides.
She slowed as she neared the street, and looked up. Every lamp pole had a lit wreath hanging from it. They glowed with soft, white lights, set off by red bows throughout. It was lovely. The entire town was lovely. Jemma knew if she looked too long at one particular thing, her carefully constructed armor might crack, and she couldn’t have that. She wouldn’t be here long. At least not long enough to ride in a damn sleigh.
Lifting her chin, she stepped off the curb, but yelped when someone barreled past her on a mountain bike.
“Watch out!” roared a male voice.
She jumped back on the curb, her heart slamming in her chest. After a second, shock turned to anger and she turned to yell at his retreating form.
Only he wasn’t retreating anymore.
He’d turned the big bike around and was riding toward her, looking like some lunatic on the X-Games.
Before she could spit the obscenities she wanted to, he’d come to an expert stop a few feet away, his helmet riding low over his eyes, his North Face fleece pulled high around his neck.
“Jesus,” he bit out. “I could’ve killed you.”
“You’re telling me. Why don’t you look where you’re going?”
His breath crystalized on the freezing air. It puffed in silver clouds from his wide, expressive mouth. And then she recognized him. The shaggy, strawberry-blond hair brushing his collar, the striking blue eyes, the strong, sexy jaw with just a hint of prickly stubble.
EJ Corpa. Physical therapist extraordinaire.
He’d been big and imposing in the hospital room that afternoon. But his brawn and wide shoulders had been masked a little by the surroundings. His collared shirt and khaki slacks had made him seem more approachable despite his handsome face, which Jemma had found instantly intimidating. She was used to blending in because that was safe. And when it came to men, she preferred those who didn’t look like Olympic athletes, because that wasn’t safe.
He unclicked the strap under his chin and took off the helmet. His hair was damp at the temples, making it clear this wasn’t just a casual ride through town. And judging by the thickness of his legs, he did this kind of thing often.
“Jemma?” he said, his voice losing the sharp edge from a moment before. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t see you. You’ve gotta be more careful. Just because it’s a small town doesn’t mean people won’t run your ass over.”
She had to remind herself to blink. The man was absolutely gorgeous. “I see that.”
They looked at each other for another few seconds, a cold breeze making its way right through Jemma’s coat. As if on cue, the lampposts winked to life above them. She couldn’t believe how fast it had gotten dark.
Clearing his throat, EJ ran a hand through his hair. “So, how are you settling in? Liking the Graff?”
“It’s beautiful.” That was the understatement of the century. It was breathtaking. “Very Christmassy.”
He laughed. “Right? Christmas is kind of a big deal around here.”
“I noticed. It’s charming. Like out of a movie or something.”
Why in the hell was her heart beating so fast? Apparently, she was going to get all mushy around this guy, which was annoying. He wasn’t her type. She usually went for the pocket-protector type. EJ didn’t look like he’d ever seen a pocket protector in his life.
She squared her shoulders and forced her gaze away from his. “I’m headed over to Rocco’s for dinner,” she said, hating the tone of her voice. Like she had a sizeable stick up her butt. “Bob from the Graff said it’s very good.”
His mouth cocked at that. “Ahh. Well, I can vouch for Bob at the Graff. He’s got good taste.”
“Friend of yours?”
“His mom was a patient of mine, and he helped with our tree last year.”
She nodded, trying not to notice how long his eyelashes were. It was ridiculous. She could see them even from where she was standing. “The Christmas-tree auction is a pretty big deal, then?”
“Ask your dad. We’re fairly competitive. It can get fierce.”
She smiled. “So, it’s like a war? Whoever throws on the most tinsel wins?”
“Well, throwing it on would imply that there’s no artistry. And there’s definitely artistry.”
He remained stone faced, except for a slight tilt to his lips. Dry humor. Her favorite kind.
She put her hands in her pockets and fought the urge to let her teeth click toget
her like they wanted to. “So, how well do you know my dad? Really?”
He had one hand on his bike, and the other casually resting on his thigh. He looked like he did this every night—rode like a bat out of hell, and then stopped to chat up doe-eyed girls on the sidewalk. He seemed to be in his element.
She, on the other hand, was obsessively wondering if her nose was running.
“Pretty well, actually. He was one of my first patients when I moved here. I was fresh out of graduate school and didn’t know anything. He was always supportive, someone I could count on.”
It was like he’d taken a knife and unintentionally pierced her heart. Not deeply—just enough to draw blood.
Supportive. Someone he could count on... Two things she’d never experienced with her father. But here was a complete stranger who seemed to have gotten from him what she never had.
EJ must have noticed, because his expression changed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you two have a complicated relationship.”
“Well, the word relationship doesn’t fit,” she managed. “We don’t have one.”
“It’s none of my business, but I know your dad loves you very much.”
She narrowed her eyes. It really wasn’t his business, no matter how strong his jaw was, or how that smile affected her ovaries. She’d put money on the fact that Joe Banks had neglected to mention how he’d walked out on his wife and daughters all those years ago. He’d probably been too busy trying to rebuild a new family here. He’d certainly been busy casting himself as the lovable father figure to wet-behind-the-ears college graduates from out of town.
“I really don’t like talking about my dad,” she said. “Sore subject.”
“I get it.”
They stood there for another few seconds, the wind picking up around them. Jemma hunched her shoulders against it, wishing she were back in the hotel under her warm, snuggly duvet. The wind also carried with it EJ’s scent—sweat and man. Maybe a little bit of aftershave from earlier in the day. She shivered, but wasn’t sure if it was from the chill or something else.
“You’re probably freezing,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you.”
She smiled, suddenly wishing she wasn’t having dinner alone. If Justine were here, she’d know what to say to balance Jemma’s mood again. She’d definitely be able to weigh in on this guy and put him in his place. She wouldn’t be as swayed by the eyelashes as Jemma was.
“I should’ve dressed warmer,” she said. “Bob told me to, but I didn’t listen.”
“Always listen to Bob. It’s the law.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Unless he tells you to go without clothes. In that case, disregard.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You might not be able to tell because of the sweaters, but Bob is a ladies’ man. Watch your back.”
“Ah. Thanks for the advice.”
“Any time.”
He grinned, and to her devastation, she saw dimples. Of course he had dimples. Of course he did.
She pushed her hands further into her pockets. “Well, have a nice bike ride.” God. Have a nice bike ride? She sounded ninety.
“Will do. And you have a nice dinner.”
“Will do.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“At three. I’ll be there.”
Reluctantly, she turned and stepped off the curb.
But this time, she looked both ways.
Chapter Three
EJ sat in front of his computer, trying to concentrate on typing up his newest evaluation—a ten-year-old with a pulled groin. But Chad was making it hard, something he had a tendency to do.
The other man leaned forward, both hands planted on EJ’s desk. “What does she look like? Just curious.”
EJ refused to look up. “Are you ever not thinking about girls, man?”
“Yes. When we’re boarding.”
“That’s a flat-out lie.”
“Okay. When we’re boarding, too. But not as much.”
EJ did look up then and eyed his friend. Chad looked like a surfer, and probably would’ve been one if his parents hadn’t moved here when he was in junior high. He’d discovered snow and, as he liked to put it, that was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. The only one in his life that had lasted so far. He was hopeless.
“So, come on. What does she look like? Single?”
For some inexplicable reason, EJ prickled at that. “Not everyone’s looking for a date, dude.”
“Maybe not with you.”
“I don’t think she’s looking, period. She’s just here to help Joe, that’s it.”
“But that’s gonna take a while. You know it, and I know it. Broken pelvis? Come on.”
As prepubescent as Chad tended to be, he was an excellent clinician. Maybe one of the best EJ had ever seen. If he actually put half the effort into his job as he put into chasing women, there’d be no limit to what he could do. But at the moment, he was more interested in Jemma than doing his notes.
“I have no idea,” EJ said, looking back at the computer screen.
“Oh. Oooohhh.” Chad straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “I get it now. You’re interested.”
“Shut up.”
“Bingo. Bing to the go.”
“Screw off, Chad.”
“She must be hot. Since you’re picky as hell.”
“I don’t even know the chick, okay? I’m going to help her with Joe. As far as I know, she’ll be going home after that. Stop acting like a sixth grader and get back to work.”
Chad flicked the back of EJ’s head. “Okay, Dad.”
He walked over to his desk and pulled the rolling chair out, but stopped and turned to EJ again. “Wait a minute. Joe’s down for the count. Which means he’s not going to be able to help with the Christmas tree, right? I’m not doing it, bro. You can forget about that right now.”
“Wasn’t gonna ask.”
“I know you’re not doing it by yourself.”
“I might...”
“Kim and Marlene are both gonna be on vacation that week. Jesse’s flat out refused. Allergic to pine or some such crap. That leaves roughly...nobody.”
EJ scowled. “You don’t think I can decorate a damn tree by myself?”
“Hey, I’m just being the devil’s advocate here. You and I both know you need help. And that auction pulls in a lot of money. Pretty important around here.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’ve got an idea.”
EJ slapped his thighs. “This, I’ve got to hear.”
“Why don’t you ask her to help?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? Makes perfect sense.”
“Maybe in your world where you’d do anything to get laid.”
“Now, I take offense to that. I really do. I’m talking about Christmas here.”
EJ laughed. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious. Ask her. Only a calloused witch could say no to helping the hospital raise money for sick kids.”
“And say what, exactly? ‘Uh, yeah, I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I really need your help decorating a Christmas tree for an auction you probably couldn’t care less about.’ Don’t think so.”
“Like I said. Calloused witch.”
“Not doing it.”
“Whatever, dude. I’m just trying to help a brother out. Have fun trying to color coordinate tinsel and bows and shit.”
Chad sat in his chair, spun it around once for good measure, and put his glasses on. EJ stared over at him. Chad wearing glasses and acting somewhat professional was a contradiction in terms. To give him credit, though, his patients loved him. Probably because most of them were teenage girls with ski injuries.
“You think she’d do it?” EJ said. “I mean—”
“Shh.” Chad held up a hand. “I’m busy now. Too busy for your personal life. You missed your window.”
“It’s a dumb idea any
way.”
But it kept nagging at him just the same.
Jemma looked at her watch. Twenty minutes until three. She was early.
She sat in the driver’s seat of her Accord and stared out the window at the little craftsman-style house on Bramble Lane that her dad had called home for several years now. She’d never been inside, of course, but she recognized it from the pictures he’d sent. He’d sent letters, too, but she’d rarely responded. When she did, she only told him the facts about her life, but never colored them in with any details. The end result was a dreary black-and-white picture, and a father who might as well be a perfect stranger. She only knew the man she’d remembered from her childhood, whom she’d dearly loved, but who had ended up breaking her heart and, in the process, teaching her that men couldn’t be trusted.
Blinking at the house with the cheerful red trim, she wondered about the woman who’d lived here with him until she’d eventually left. A cruel twist of fate for her dad, but one she and Justine had seen coming, of course. The grass was never greener on the other side of the fence.
Still, the house was lovely and Jemma knew he’d made a life for himself in Marietta. His plumbing business had flourished, and he’d made some good friends here. EJ Corpa being one of them apparently. Her dad was a well-respected member of the community. Something that angered and confused her at the same time. It seemed like people should know he’d had another family, in a different life he’d just walked away from.
She swallowed hard as a silver Jeep Wrangler turned into the driveway and parked. The door opened, and EJ stepped out, spotting her immediately. He smiled and nodded, and her lower belly tightened at how handsome he was in the fading light of the cloudy afternoon. She smiled back and got out of her car, locking it behind her.
EJ waited for her, hands in the pockets of his black fleece jacket. It was cold today. Maybe even colder than yesterday, but she’d been prepared this time and had dressed in layers.
“How was dinner?” he asked, completely unaware of how his dimples were killing her dead.
She looked away, concentrating on stepping up to the deck without falling on her face. “It was really good. And I didn’t get hit by any mountain bikers on the way back to the hotel, which was a bonus.”
Christmas at the Graff Page 2
