Give Me a Christmas

by Zoe Ann Wood

  “You should. My father got to my friend when she was half delirious with fever, and she told him where I was. Then my mother probably ambushed your poor mom and told her some sob story about our family being separated for Christmas.”

  Finn’s mind snagged on her words. “Wait, your friend…”

  “Yeah, Sam. She was supposed to come with me. She was the one who found that lovely cabin.”

  Sam was a woman. Iris hadn’t left her boyfriend at home. Did she even have a boyfriend? Finn’s thoughts churned furiously. She said that she’d never found a better man than him. There was no way he could ask her directly…

  “Anyway, we should probably get going,” she said. “You’ll want to return to Lausanne, and I need to hunt for a room.”

  Finn reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Come with me, Iris. Please.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted on a gasp. They stared at each other, and Finn knew that this was the pivotal moment. He would either convince her or lose her forever.

  “You can have all the peace and quiet you want,” he rushed to say. “And room service. The hotel has an indoor pool and a spa.” He shook his head. “And I know you said you couldn’t afford it, but you don’t have to. Let me help you. Just this once. No strings attached, I promise.”

  Iris didn’t pull her hand away. She studied him with a serious expression, seconds ticking by in silence. No business deal, no contract Finn had ever negotiated came close to being this important to him. He couldn’t fix the past but if he could make Iris’ holidays more comfortable, he’d count that as a win.

  “Okay.”

  He blinked. “Okay?”

  Iris glanced at his hand, and he removed it, suddenly conscious of the tourists milling around them. Again, he’d forgotten their surroundings—Iris demanded all his attention simply by existing.

  “I’ll come with you,” she said, sighing. “I can’t stay here, and a hotel with a pool sounds great.”

  She trusted him. He wanted to get up and whoop in triumph, but he restrained himself.

  “Want to go pack?”

  The corners of her mouth tipped up in a smile. “Yeah. And you can dig the car out in the meantime.”

  A part of him wanted to follow her to that shack, reluctant to let her out of his sight for even a minute. Instead, he called his hotel in Lausanne and asked the receptionist to reserve another room and procure a brand-new laptop for Iris. There was a definite perk in staying at a good hotel.

  Then he borrowed a shovel at the reception and cleared the snow from his rental—and helped a mother with two young kids do the same. She didn’t speak English and tried to shove a bank note for ten euro at him in thanks, but Finn shook his head and stepped back, his hands in the air.

  Iris showed up at that moment, carrying a large suitcase so it didn’t get wet, and Finn jumped in to help. The two brown-eyed boys waved excitedly at Iris as their mother reversed out of the parking lot, and Iris waved back, grinning. That was what she was like, friendly and relaxed, and he only then realized how tense she must have been in his company.

  “Are we ready to leave?” Iris asked, rubbing her arms through her parka.

  “Jump in,” Finn said. “Get the seat warmers going and pick some music.”

  He ran to return the shovel, then paused behind the car, taking a deep breath. He’d be spending the next two hours in the car with Iris. It shouldn’t be an issue; they’d slept on the same couch, but they’d be awake this time. It was two hours they would need to fill with conversation, and Finn wasn’t sure what topics were safe, or if Iris wanted to chat with him at all.

  In the end, staying on the road took all his concentration. Iris connected her phone with the car’s system, and Christmas songs were blasting on the radio. He suspected this was revenge for scaring her the night before. Conversation wasn’t possible when he had to avoid skidding on ice patches, and their progress was slowed by two traffic accidents caused by careless drivers.

  Then Iris’ phone rang, and she stared at the screen, her lips pinched in a thin line. Just when Finn was sure she wouldn’t answer, she swiped the screen and lifted her phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  The music abruptly cut off, and a voice rang through the car’s speakers. “Iris, finally!”

  Finn glanced at Iris—for a beat, her mouth hung open, surprise written plain across her face. The car’s system had taken the call for her.

  “Hello?” her mother said. “Are you there?”

  Iris blew out a breath, then said, “Yes, Mom. But I’m—”

  “Oh, good. I see Finn Thornton has worked his magic.”

  Finn opened his mouth to greet her, but Iris’ hand landed on his knee, and she squeezed him, hard. Don’t talk. The message was clear, and Iris’ frown underscored the message. Reluctantly, Finn nodded. It didn’t feel right to listen in on a private conversation with one of the parties unaware of the fact, but…

  “I need you to come home,” Iris’ mother said. “Your father and I expect you for Christmas brunch.”

  “I’m in Switzerland. I won’t be back in time,” Iris replied.

  Finn thought she might be gritting her teeth.

  “Yes, well, ask that boy to get you a ticket. He’s rolling in cash, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t give you a hand.”

  Finn’s eyebrows crept up, and he chanced a look at Iris. Her face was pale, but two pink splotches appeared in her cheeks. Her lips were white with fury.

  “That’s why you sent him after me?”

  Her mother’s sigh filtered through the speakers. “When I was your age, I was married with two daughters. You’re not getting any younger, you know. And that boy clearly saw something in you, though I never knew what. So you need to do what you should have done years ago and get him to commit.”

  There was a rest area just ahead, barely wide enough to park a car by the road. A plow must have turned there, because the snow, three inches deep and slushy with salt and sand, was all churned up. But he thought Iris might spontaneously combust in the passenger seat. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment—and pity. Yes, he pitied Iris for the life she must have had with such a mother.

  Iris closed her eyes and leaned against the headrest. “You conveniently forgot about one daughter, though, Mom. Have you called Violet yet? Did you invite her over for brunch?”

  Her mother clicked her tongue. “Don’t start. Violet made her own choices.” A muffled voice sounded, and she said, “Yes, it’s Iris on the phone. Iris, your father wants a word.”

  “Perfect,” Iris murmured.

  She stared into the distance now, but Finn would bet she didn’t see the beautiful vista stretched out before them. She seemed to be stuck in her own personal nightmare. Her fists, tightly clenched, rested on her knees, and Finn covered one with his palm. Iris’ gaze met his. She was barely holding on—her lip trembled, and she took a shaking breath.

  “Iris?” Her father’s deep voice reverberated through the car. “Listen to me. If you don’t get on a plane today…”

  Iris lifted her chin. “What, Dad? What will you do if I don’t get on a plane? Will you cut Grandpa off? Call your golf buddies to threaten my place at the department? You tried all that, and it didn’t work.”

  Finn gaped at her. What was going on? Had the Eastwoods lost their minds? Surely his parents would have noticed there was something seriously wrong with the family if they’d always been like that.

  “Your friend Samantha works at the library, doesn’t she?” His voice was deceptively quiet.

  What color remained in Iris’ face drained at his words. “Don’t you dare,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare go after Sam.”

  “Come home like a normal, kind daughter, and I won’t have to,” he replied. “We expect you at ten.”

  The line went dead, and Let it Snow! blared to life. Finn jerked and poked the radio button to turn off the music.

  They sat in the ringing silence. Finn stil
l clutched her hand, and he loosened his grip, afraid of hurting her. He’d never been so angry in his life…

  Iris took her hand away, opened her door, and tripped outside. She couldn’t go far, there was nowhere to go but the road, which was still filled with slow-moving cars.

  Finn shut down the engine and followed her. “Iris?”

  She was turned away from him, her shoulders pulled up, her hands gripping her elbows. She didn’t answer, but a moment later, a big, gulping sob broke the quiet.

  Finn closed the distance between them, stepped around her, and wrapped her in his arms. Iris shook in his embrace, her face burrowed in his chest as she cried.

  “Shh,” he murmured, lost for words. There was nothing he could say to make this better, so he rubbed slow circles on her back and waited. He would wait forever—as long as she took comfort from his presence.

  After a minute, Iris growled against his chest and stomped her foot. Finn pulled back, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

  She looked up at him, her eyes red and watery. “I hate them.”

  Finn nodded. “I can imagine.”

  “I want to pack up a whole nest of wasps and have them delivered to their doorstep.” She sniffed and patted her pockets. She drew out a tissue and blew her nose. “I’m sorry your sweater is all wet. I didn’t mean to cry on you.”

  “You can cry on me anytime you want,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrow at him.

  “Well, I’d rather if you didn’t cry all the time,” he corrected himself, trying to lighten the mood. “You’d probably get dehydrated.”

  She nudged him with her elbow, but a faint smile played around her mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “And you’re vicious. A hive of wasps, huh? Not bees?”

  Iris seemed affronted. “Never. They’re too valuable.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you could sneak in and smear honey all over their furniture,” he mused. “Then the wasps wouldn’t want to leave.”

  Her eyes sparkled, though her eyelashes were still wet. “It would make a perfect Christmas present.”

  Finn rubbed her upper arms. “What do you want to do now?”

  Iris glanced up at him, and Finn was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. Of course, he’d hugged her just a moment before, but he couldn’t think about kissing her when she was crying. Now, though…

  She was right there, and his blood thrummed in anticipation. He inhaled sharply, her delicate, sweet scent filling his head. He remembered that scent so well… He’d dreamed about it. For years.

  Iris’ gaze slipped to his lips, and her own parted.

  A car horn blew from beside them. Iris jumped and whirled away from him.

  Finn could have strangled the impatient driver, but it turned out to be a nice older gentleman, who leaned down to shout through his open window, “Do you need help?”

  Iris shook her head and thanked him. The man gave Finn a nod, then drove on.

  Finn waited for Iris to return to him. But she stepped to her side of the car and opened the door. Then she raised her eyebrows at him as though to say, Are you coming? Her cheeks were pink—either from the cold or from the emotions—but she showed no other signs of being lost in the moment like he was.

  He blew out a long breath. Maybe the intervention from that kind driver had been a stroke of luck. Maybe he had no business kissing his ex-girlfriend who was dealing with family trouble.

  But maybe he’d missed a chance of a lifetime to get back what he missed the most in his life.

  Finn got behind the wheel and glanced at Iris. She typed something on her phone.

  “I told Sam to call me as soon as she wakes up,” she explained. “I needed to warn her my father might do something drastic. And to tell her I’ll understand if she no longer wants to be my friend.”

  Her sigh tore at Finn’s insides.

  “This isn’t your fault,” he said. His voice came out as a growl, so he took a moment, swallowed, and added, “Your parents are overstepping.”

  “You think?” Iris’ smile was crooked, and she suddenly seemed so tired. “I’ve been dealing with this for so long, I don’t know what to do. Nothing works on them. And people get caught in the crossfire, good people like Sam and—”

  She caught herself and clamped her mouth shut.

  Finn rested his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. It was snowing again, light flakes that dissolved immediately on the windshield of the rental car. “People like me?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

  “Yeah.” Iris’ voice broke. “If we’d stayed together…” She shook her head. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  Ah, so now they were getting to the bottom of their history.

  “So there was more to why you broke up with me. You didn’t want to drag me down with you, is that it?” His words were sharper than he’d intended, but a painful shard of resentment lodged in his chest.

  Iris looked out the window. “Can we just go?”

  “No.” Finn turned to her, studying her profile. “Don’t you think I have a right to know?”

  Iris’ chin dipped, and a shudder went through her. She gripped her hands in her lap and held her body as though she might shatter at any moment. Finn suddenly felt like a complete ass for insisting, for digging into things she clearly wanted to keep buried.

  “Please, I just… I need to figure out what to do.”

  He couldn’t push her. She had enough on her plate, and if she wasn’t ready to confide in him, there was nothing he could do.

  Without a word, he started the car and indicated that he was going to leave the rest area.

  But the car wouldn’t budge. The wheels spun uselessly in the sludge, slipping sideways on the ice. Finn gritted his teeth and put the car in reverse, stepping lightly on the gas in an effort to dislodge them from their rut.

  He should have known. The churned-up snow rested on a layer of ice. Maybe they did need help. And maybe he should have rented a Land Rover instead of the swanky Mercedes for a trip into the Swiss mountains.

  “Are we stuck?” Iris asked after a minute.

  Finn glanced at her. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. He heaved a sigh and leaned his head back on his seat.

  “Yeah.” Then he unsnapped his seat belt and opened the door. “Come sit over here. I’ll give you a push, and you try to get us out. Gently, okay?”

  Iris scrambled over the gear shift. “The clutch is the one on the right?”

  Finn stared at her. “The… What? You do know how to drive a stick, don’t you?”

  Iris smirked. “Ah, your face. Yeah, I know how to drive a stick shift.” She shuffled in the seat and brought it forward. “You’re too tall.”

  Finn grinned. “No, you’re too short.”

  It was good to see a smile on her face, even though he still intended to return to their conversation later. But now Iris waved a hand at him, imperious, so he closed the door on her and circled the car to position himself at the rear.

  Through the back window, he saw Iris lift her hand with three fingers extended. She counted down, three…two…one, and Finn pushed with all he had.

  After a moment, the car rocked forward, and Finn whooped. The wheels caught traction. Iris shot forward, and Finn got a face full of sludge.

  Nine

  Iris

  The road was empty, so Iris drove the car forward, onto the plowed and salted surface. Then she put on the hazards and waited for Finn to catch up. His push had been just what she’d needed to get away from the icy patch.

  But Finn didn’t come to the driver’s side to take over from her. Instead, he searched for something in the trunk and slammed it shut with enough force to rock the car.

  So he is still angry at me.

  It made sense. If she’d been in his place, she would have demanded answers. They would have to talk, and soon. She’d been putting off this conversation for so long, hoping she would never have
to explain her decisions to him. But his visit brought up all the dirt she’d kept buried for so long. She owed him an explanation.

  The passenger-side door opened, and Finn slid into the seat. Iris raised her eyebrows; she hadn’t thought he’d let her drive his rental car. Then she got a better look at him.

  “Oh, wow.” She pressed her lips together in an effort to hold back her grin.

  His entire front was wet, and clumps of dirty ice clung to his clothes and hair.

  “All right,” he grumbled as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his cashmere sweater. “Just drive.”

  Iris obeyed. She didn’t think it was the right moment to mention that the cashmere was probably ruined. Or that he had sand in his dark hair. There wasn’t much he could do until they arrived at the hotel and he had a shower.

  Finn took off his sweater and threw it in the backseat, where it landed on the leather surface with a wet plop. Iris kept her eyes on the road and her hands at the prescribed points of the steering wheel. Driving this beautiful car was scary—what if she took a turn too fast and they skidded into the ditch? Better to take it slow…

  Finn unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. Iris watched him from the corner of her eye, then jerked her attention to the traffic.

  “Er,” she said, “are you changing into a fresh shirt?”

  The thought of him undressing in the small confines of the car was distracting. Already, the fresh, familiar scent of his skin filled her senses. She’d worked so hard to forget it, but here it was, bringing back all sorts of memories. When she’d been twenty-three and so in love it hurt to be away from him, she’d filched one of his t-shirts to sleep in.

  He paused and watched her; she resolutely refused to meet his gaze. She was two seconds away from blushing scarlet, and she didn’t want him to know how he affected her.

  “Relax,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I’m wearing an undershirt.”

  “Okay,” she replied on a breathless laugh. “Of course.”

  For a second, she considered hitting her head on the steering wheel, but that would be bad, considering she was now maneuvering her way through another idyllic small town, Stalden. Tourists were hurrying across the street with apparent disregard for their own safety, though they were so bundled up in winter gear that a direct hit from a moving car would likely just make them bounce off the hood.