Nick took his first bite of stew and almost dropped the spoon.
“Too hot?” she asked.
He shook his head, chewing the stew thoughtfully. His expression, however, wasn’t encouraging. “No. Not at all.”
Abby waited for an explanation, but it didn’t appear he’d give one. After he’d taken his second bite and his eyes widened, she became suspicious. “Nick, what’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.’
Unconvinced, she tentatively took her first bite of stew. Her nose wrinkled as she tasted a mouthful. Now Abby understood why he’d screwed up his face.
“Blech,” she said involuntarily.
A laugh burst from him, and she looked at him sharply. “I’m sorry, Pixie, but I thought maybe it was just me, and I didn’t want to say anything—”
“It’s awful.”
He shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”
“I thought I followed my friend’s recipe.” She couldn’t bear to eat another salty bite. Nick took another taste.
Taking a deep breath, she let out a weary sigh of embarrassment. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
He took a healthy swig of wine. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it. It’s disgusting.”
He reached out and covered her hand with his. “It’s all right.”
Abby smiled. “Nick, has anyone ever told you how damned nice you are?”
He pressed her hand again. “Nope. In fact, back at work people sometimes tell me that I can be a real bastard.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Okay, the only person who tells me that to my face is my brother Mason. I can’t fire him.”
“I still can’t imagine you being difficult to work with.” On second thought, the man had been a pain in the neck to her in more ways than one. “Are you?”
“I expect people to work hard, but no harder than I expect myself to work. I’m fair.”
“Then you aren’t a bastard.”
She saw genuine appreciation and curiosity reflected in his gaze. “I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I’m not sure what you really think of me.”
“You’re...” How did she describe him? “You aren’t like any man I’ve ever met.”
“That’s good. I think.”
The silence that held them in place disconcerted Abby. For long moments she relaxed into his gaze, as if by doing so he might understand her without saying a word. She realized that she’d turned her hand so that Nick’s fingers gripped hers tightly. Or was it her fingers holding him like a lifeline?
“I think I’ll order pizza,” Abby said, trying to break the crazy feelings bouncing around inside her.
He released her hand. “Sounds good. We can get started on the decorations while we wait for the pizza.”
Shortly after, Nick followed her upstairs to retrieve decorations she’d stored in her guest bedroom. Abby felt almost as if she had let him into a private section of her psyche. Not many people had seen the inside of her house. Only Becca, and maybe one or two others. As her sanctuary, her home provided a place where she could retreat after a hectic day and enjoy the privacy and quiet. To allow someone to observe that sanctum felt almost blasphemous. It was an odd sentiment, perhaps even a silly one.
Silly. Her aunt’s voice echoed in her ears again, like a haunting.
Abby shoved the word away. Why was she afraid?
The same thing she always dreaded. Disapproval.
Resolutely she opened the guest bedroom. She hadn’t decorated this room. She’d affectionately designated the space as ‘the closet from hell.’
“Excuse the mess,” she said, leaning down to get the box that held the garland and mistletoe. She handed it to him.
Nick grunted. “What have you got in here?”
“It’s not that heavy.”
“Want to bet? What’s in it? An entire Christmas tree?”
“Listen smarty pants, it’s only garland and mistletoe.”
That wide, captivating grin turned on full force. “Mistletoe? Does that mean you have plans for some poor, unsuspecting man—”
Abby piled another box on top of the two he already held. “No wise remarks from the Peanut gallery.”
“Damn. I was hoping...”
When he trailed off, she turned to him. “Hoping what?”
“You. Me. Under the mistletoe,” he said huskily.
Clear. Without elaboration. It was stunningly simple, and wildly erotic. Arousal stirred her stomach.
She stared at him and let the stimulation roll through her. “You’ll have to catch me standing under it first.” Abby grabbed the box that held the miniature village she wanted to erect in the living room. “Forward march soldier.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After two trips downstairs, arms laden with boxes, she showed Nick where to string the garland and mistletoe. The pizza arrived shortly after.
She turned on some Christmas music, lit two red and green pillar candles, and they went to work. Abby hummed along with the music, garnering amused glances from Nick as he attempted to attach the garland, festooned with red bows, on the banister. Soon she discovered that Nick was, despite his many talents, a horrible decorator.
Sighing dramatically, she crossed her arms. “I thought you said your parents decorated for Christmas?”
“They did. They still do.” He attempted to lace garland around pictures on her fireplace mantle and almost knocked off a pewter candlestick. He caught it gracefully.
“Watch it, buster.”
“Whatever you say, Martha Stewart.” Carefully he put the candlestick back on the mantle.
A tsk came from her throat. “Be nice or I’ll have to bash you with that candlestick.”
Crumpling his face into a sinister mask, Nick said, “No, it was Mr. Peacock who bludgeoned Mr. Mustard with the wrench.”
“Mrs. Peacock.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Peacock. There is no Mr. Peacock.”
“Humph. I can see why.” He laughed. “Is this to get me back for every time I’ve teased you in the last few days?”
“Absolutely.”
He stopped decorating and scrutinized her. “You don’t like it when I tease you, do you?” When she didn’t reply he asked, “Abby?”
She looked up from the miniature village set she’d arranged on a table near a wall. “I don’t mind it. I know you’re teasing.”
“But you don’t act as if you know it. Most of the time I get dirty looks or blank looks—”
“Teasing isn’t always funny.” Abby turned toward him. “I used to know this kid in high school who liked to torment other children by teasing them unmercifully. It started out funny and turned old real fast.”
“I didn’t mean it to be like that.” Nick moved away the mantle and stood next to her.
“I know.”
Having him close upset her equilibrium. Did she want this type of attention from him? Having Nick over for dinner shouldn’t have been a big deal. Unfortunately everything about him intrigued her in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. Every moment she spent with him, she needed another sampling of his humor, and the warmth in his regard.
Too often she thought of how his arms felt around her, how crazy that kiss in the snow had made her feel. But to get involved with Nick translated to lunacy. Nick planned to stay for the short term, for one ride in the Ferris wheel. He’d go back to his old lifestyle and forget her.
After an aching silence Nick fingered the top of a ceramic house. “I think my mother would love you.”
“Why?”
“She has a set like this. And we’ve always had two trees in the house. One in the living room, one in the basement.”
“I’ve got one put together in my bedroom.”
“Wish I could have helped you with that one.” He gazed down on her with a flourishing interest.
How was it that this man could take an innocent string of words and lace
it with a multitude of meanings?
“See if I ask you to decorate my house again,” Abby said, a little hitch of breathlessness in her throat.
“I won’t be here next year.”
She didn’t want to think about that. “Just wait until I decorate your apartment. You’ll wish you’d been nice to me.”
“Oh, no you don’t. My apartment is staying sterile.”
Abby snatched up a piece of pizza and settled down next to the coffee table. “I don’t understand how you can celebrate Christmas like that.”
He turned back to the mantle and nestled another gold ornament among the greenery. “Christmas isn’t the trees or the ornaments, or the crazy shopping in the mall. It’s a time of giving.” He turned and his gaze heated. “For love.”
“Love?” Abby’s heart did an unsettled thump.
“Friends and family expressing their love for each other isn’t something they should reserve just for Christmas.”
“Of course not.”
“Yet a lot of people who don’t even care for each other pretend feelings at Christmas because it’s the thing to do. All in the name of tradition.”
What he said made sense, but that didn’t make her feel better. The idea of abandoning the Christmas she wanted so much wasn’t love either. She’d planned a wild, decorated Christmas and didn’t wish to change her ideas, no matter how silly or trite it appeared. This was hers. With difficulty Abby kept her voice steady as she put down her pizza.
“Some people pretend love for the sake of impressions. But I’m not one of them. I don’t have to worry about giving love to a family because I don’t really have one.”
By the startled look on his face, she knew she’d shocked him.
“I know you’re not that type of person, Abby,” he said softly, his voice deepening. “But why are the ornaments so important to you?”
“Because they’re tradition.”
“Tradition in life is important for your happiness?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
Irritation prickled her sensitivities. This man endangered her psyche. One minute Nick teased her, the next he complimented, the next he challenged her. She knew only too well how lies could be masked in perfidy. Tart candy among the sweet.
She put her plate aside for a moment and wiped her hands on a napkin. “Tradition is what holds many great things together.”
“Such as?”
Abby heaved a sigh. “Like the stories you told the children in the library...fairy tales and legends. You’ve been dressing like Santa for days now and listening to what children want for Christmas. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t like tradition. Without tradition there is no moral to the story.”
“True.”
“And you honestly thought you could relax in this town? We’ve got the parade on Christmas Eve, the lights were up in shop windows for weeks. Old man Gunter down on Spruce Street has plans to give people sleigh rides on Christmas. Not only is our mall fully decorated, management plays Christmas music with nauseating consistency all day long. How did you expect to get away from tradition by coming to Russel?”
Nick shifted his feet and put his hands in his pockets. He looked vulnerable, as if she’d hit something tender. “Now you sound like my parents. They weren’t too happy about my decision to come to Russel. In fact, they were shocked at first that I wanted to move away from Denver. I explained to them I had gone three years without a vacation. I’ve been working my ass off.” Nick’s eyes hardened, as if he needed to prove something. “I needed time to forget. Coming to Russel, I didn’t expect to get away from everything, but I have a right not to decorate my apartment for Christmas without people acting as if I just sneezed on the Pope’s sleeve.”
Before she could respond, he continued.
“I think you need to look at your reasons for why you feel tradition is necessary to keep your life happy.” He put his hands out, as if to indicate the multitude of decorations. “These things can’t be the basis for all your happiness, Abby.”
What the hell business did he have telling her this? Abby’s inherent aversion for conflict kicked in full throttle. She clamped her lips together.
Nick sank onto the carpet in front of her and retrieved a piece of pizza. She watched him eat, noting how he consumed it as if he hadn’t eaten in a decade. But instead of being unseemly, his unfettered attitude toward eating looked genuine. Without that pretense they’d talked about moments before.
The hell with it. She shrugged. Pizza was like tacos. You couldn’t be dignified and eat them at the same time.
Eagerly she jumped into the task of eating, and she didn’t notice until several seconds later that he stared at her. “What are you looking at?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“I was just thinking about how pretty you are tonight.”
She gazed at the ceiling, then back at him. “You couldn’t win our argument, so you resort to flattery?”
“Who said it was an argument?”
“I did.”
“It was a discussion.” He polished off the last bite of his pizza. “There’s a big difference.”
Irritated at herself for backing down, Abby got up, marched to the mantle and tucked a bit of garland in place. “Where did you learn to decorate? The circus?”
He smiled and stood up. Reaching out, he took her hand. Nick kissed her fingers, and the pleasure zinged through her hand and into her body. Breathless didn’t explain how he made her feel. The entire conversation had sent her into a spin, like a fighter plane out of control.
He tugged her closer. “What are you running from?”
Swallowing hard, Abby said, “Tradition is the fabric of any society. When things change too fast they fall apart.”
When he clasped her shoulders, a lump grew in her throat.
“Did things crumble for you at one time? In life? Is that why you feel you’ve got to overdo tradition? To make up for something you didn’t have before? To catch up?”
Like a carefully aimed missile his assessment stunned her. How could he be so damned accurate about her life when she hadn’t told him that much? How could he know things when she hardly understood them herself?
Abby felt like a raft, bobbing along on a vast ocean without a compass, and she searched for the words to explain. She couldn’t think of a thing because he was right. Suddenly the room looked gaudy. Tinsel, which she’d always loved before, clung to the tree like silver curtains, obscuring the beautiful ornaments and the tree beneath. The mantle looked overloaded, the glow of the lighted ceramic houses like a caricature.
Yet when Abby looked into Nick’s eyes she saw a haven. Something she could rely upon when the tinsel and the other decorations had disappeared back into the box for another year. But could she depend on her own judgment? Could she tell him what had plagued her for all those years? For all those years since her uncle had destroyed every trust in her heart?
The idea scared Abby, and she pulled away from it quickly.
No.
Not now. Not ever.
Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over. Oh, wonderful. Now she’d bawl like a toddler in front of Nick and their relationship would disappear. He’d pity her. Abby couldn’t hold back. Instead, she let the tears fall.
10
Nick’s frustration with Abby dissolved in a heart beat. Her tears put a choke hold on him.
“Abby,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her shoulders.
As she came into his arms, he gently pressed her head to his shoulder. He liked the way she nestled there, savoring the comfort that seemed as much for him as it did for her.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I just want to understand.”
When she sighed but said nothing, he caressed her back. The tightness left her shoulders, and Nick repeated the motion again and again, hoping to bring her the peace she needed.
&
nbsp; Everything he’d learned about Abby tonight made him more determined to discover the truth. She was competent, strong, beautiful, and sexy. The fact that she didn’t recognize her strong points was half her charm. Within her, though, lay an ache, a hurt deep and lasting. He could feel her holding back the tears. She spent considerable time trying to hide feelings. Why?
“Nick.” Abby moved in his arms and pulled back slightly to look up at him. She’d managed to shove the tears back, though her eyes remained suspiciously bright. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have judged you. I shouldn’t have told you how to decorate your place.”
“I’m sorry I told you how to celebrate your Christmas.”
“You haven’t. I was telling the truth when I said I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Abby shrugged. “Both. I don’t like being pushed.”
“I can tell.” He moved his hands up to her shoulders. When she didn’t retreat, gratification took hold. Maybe Abby could learn to trust him if she’d let him this close.
“Are you always the devil’s advocate?” she asked.
“Afraid so. Got it from my dad. He took one little hotel, made it work well, then branched out. I never take things for granted. I question things I don’t understand. Better to ask right up front than to be broadsided later.”
“Does it ever backfire on you?”
“Sometimes. But when people don’t ask questions and when they dance around the truth, I get irritated.”
She stiffened in his arms. “Is that what you think I do? Dance around the truth?”
“Sometimes.” Nick savored the texture of her soft sweater under his hands and caressed it, knowing that underneath the sweater lay equally soft skin.
Abby did move back this time, and he regretted his hasty words. She turned to the mantle, fiddling with a piece of greenery.
He sighed in exasperation. “You don’t have to be defensive with me, Abby. I’m not out to hurt you.” He had to know something before he left this room. “Why does my teasing bother you so much? And why does my questioning make you defensive?”
All I Want for Christmas Page 11
