by Toni Blake
Beck felt a little numb. Nothing about that gift to his dad had been intended to reach so far. He’d just wanted his father to have a nice coat. And he’d been so angry—stayed so angry—at him for giving away the gift. But suddenly that seemed like a pretty narrow way of thinking. Suddenly he was pretty damn thankful his dad had given the coat to a man who needed it more.
He blew out a breath, still staring at the handwriting on the page. His first impulse? Tell Lila. Tell Lila there was more to the story, and how much good had come from what he’d thought was something bad.
Of course, he couldn’t do that. Lila didn’t want him in her life. And hell, maybe she shouldn’t. Read a story like that and it makes a man think. Maybe I am the bad guy and I don’t even know it.
Just then, the doorbell rang, making him flinch—it was the first time he’d ever actually heard his own doorbell. His heart expanded with hope: maybe it was Lila.
He rushed to the door and swung it open—to find Cade Walton standing on his porch dragging two saucer sleds behind him. “Wanna go sledding? Grammy said I should call first, but I said, ‘Becker won’t mind.’ I even have a sled to lend you. In case you don’t have one.”
Beck just smiled down at the kid, again so bundled up that he was mostly a pair of little eyes peering out from between various cold weather garments. “I don’t,” he said. “Have a sled, that is. So lucky for me you brought an extra.”
Even without being able to see Cade’s grin, it came through in his gaze—and in small, frenetic leaps of joy. “You’ll come? Yay!”
“Of course. Sounds fun. Step inside here while I find my boots and a coat, then we’ll find some safe hills to go down.”
* * *
WHIPPING A WINTER scarf over her shoulder, Suzanne said goodbye to Dahlia, with whom she’d just shared a cup of cocoa at the café, and exited onto Harbor Street. She’d just dropped her gaze to her snow boots, watching to make sure she didn’t slip on the packed snow—when a deep, masculine “Hello” drew her eyes up to Beck Grainger.
She blinked, utterly stunned. “Hi.” Then her focus shifted to the miniature person at his side—a little boy. She realized Beck toted two circular sleds. “Um, who’s this?”
“Oh—this is Cade. Cade, this nice lady is Suzanne. She sells Christmas trees across the street.” He pointed toward Petal Pushers.
Suzanne tried to piece together possibilities in her head. “Is he...?” Yours. She didn’t quite get that part of the question out.
But he heard it anyway. “Oh—no. He belongs to the Waltons.”
Okay, that was sort of a relief. Not that he wasn’t a cute kid, but it would have caught her off guard to find out Beck had such a big surprise up his sleeve. Still, she remained confused. “Are they his...”
Beck laughed. “Grandparents,” he finished for her. “He and I hang out some. We just went sledding.”
All right—now that she had the facts, the situation turned officially adorable and she reverted to her newfound state of smittenness. She smiled up at him, trying to forget every recent conversation with him that had left her a little embarrassed, and also trying to forget he might have something going with Lila Sloan. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” she managed.
“It was,” the little boy said from behind a scarf too big for his small body. “Now we want some hot chocolate.”
Beck pointed vaguely toward the café. “We can head to the coffee shop if necessary, but I thought Dahlia might be open.”
“She is,” Suzanne assured him on a nod. “And always happy to have a customer—or two—this time of year.”
“Then we’re in luck,” he said to them both.
And though she’d been mostly nursing her wounded pride and attempting to focus on other things, something in Beck’s cheerful demeanor made her...not quite ready to give up on him yet. Dahlia was right—Lila wouldn’t be here long. And Beck had been enamored of her since summer. “Are you...coming to the Christmas Walk tomorrow?”
He looked surprised. “That’s tomorrow, huh?”
She nodded. “Second Saturday in December. Weather forecast is sunny and midthirties, so all the businesses on Harbor Street will be hawking their wares, me included. I’m headed to the shop to mark down my remaining trees and poinsettias. You should stop by.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Maybe I will.” Spoken with an intent that shored up a little of that newly restored hope when she’d least expected it.
“Good,” she said with a brisk nod and quick smile. “Enjoy your hot cocoa.” She left it at that, heading onward toward Petal Pushers without looking back, remembering that nothing’s over until it’s over.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AS BECK DESCENDED Mill Street toward town, he could already sense the festive atmosphere on the wider thoroughfare below. Sun shone down on the snow-covered island from a wintry blue sky, shoppers in thick coats and snow boots criss-crossed the street, and somewhere he heard the jingle of holiday bells. It was a beautiful day for the Summer Island Christmas Walk.
Wearing the hat Lila made for him, he couldn’t deny it was much warmer and more appropriate for the weather than his old one. But why are you wasting time thinking about Lila? Lila keeps sending you away. If she couldn’t look past the land development behind the inn, that left them at an impasse. Like it or not, Bluffside Drive was a done deal.
A glance to his left on Mill brought into view the Bayberry B&B and next to it, Suzanne’s quaint cottage. Suzanne. Who had actually started to seem like a way less complicated prospect.
So maybe he should just do what Lila wanted—leave her alone. Maybe he should just do what Suzanne wanted—the opposite: spend some time with her, ask her out, see where that led.
Turning right onto Harbor Street, he discovered the western end less busy—understandably so as the businesses were fewer here and spaced a little farther apart. He noticed a couple leaving Dahlia’s as an older man entered, and a family lingered outside Petal Pushers perusing an arrangement of holiday wreaths Suzanne had set outside. Narrowing his sights on the shop’s front door, he started toward it.
“Oomph.”
Beck craned his neck toward the shore side of the street, from where the odd, gutteral sound had come—in time to see the movement of a snowbank, and he realized some of it had collapsed, like a tiny avalanche. Crossing toward it, he rushed past the bicycle livery—the building strung with pine boughs and colored lights, but closed for the season—and upon reaching the place where there now existed a huge gap in the snow, he peered down to see if someone had fallen.
Someone had. Lila.
“Oh God,” she said, looking up at him, her face at a level just below his feet. “You? Really?”
She appeared to be fine, just standing in a deep hole, most of her covered in a dusting of white. “Nice to see you, too,” he said. “Would you like me to just leave you here and go get someone else to rescue you?”
“That would be taking things too far.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said. Stamping the snow he stood on to ensure it was solid, he bent to reach down a hand to her. “How the hell did this happen?”
“I thought I was on land, but apparently it was only a snowdrift. I was just standing there looking out at the lighthouse and it dropped out from under me.” She looked uncharacteristically embarrassed but was clearly attempting to hide it.
Getting her up the embankment from so far below was awkward at best and involved some flailing on her part, until he stooped down far enough to say, “Try to get your arm around my neck.”
Once she did, he anchored his own arm around her waist and dragged her up onto what he suspected was the sidewalk—down beneath the snow. Indeed, it had drifted heavily and created the illusion of land where, in fact, the slope dropped dramatically toward the shoreline.
“You okay?” he asked as their bodie
s slowly separated.
“Yeah,” she said on a sigh as he began brushing snow off her coat and blue jeans.
Only, when he was done, it left them standing close to one another. And left him suffering the usual urge to get even closer. And left her looking wholly uncertain about all of it.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he told her—mostly to break the weird tension.
Grudgingly, she replied, “Thank you.”
He barely heard her, though, over the sounds of bells and horse hooves clopping lightly atop the snow. They both looked up to see a red horse-drawn sleigh gliding to a stop beside them. Most places, the sight would have caught him off guard, but here it was just one more Currier and Ives print come to life.
Anson Tate, proprietor of the horse-and-wagon tour company on the island, smiled down at them from the driver’s seat. “Hey, you two—sleigh ride?”
“Yes,” Beck said—at the precise moment Lila answered, “No.”
Beck took her hand, gave her a persuasive look, and tugged her gently in the direction of the big red sleigh. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
She got in, but only with an eye roll clearly meant to refute the idea of fun, and stayed just as grudging as she’d been about thanking him for his help. As Anson snapped thick leather reins lightly on the horses’ furry backs and the sleigh moved forward, she spoke, keeping her voice low. “Why do you persist in trying to woo me when you know it ends badly every time?”
Beck considered the question. Even though he could argue whether this qualified as wooing given that the invitation hadn’t come from him, it was still a fair one. “I don’t know, Lila,” he said, “maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.” Or maybe it was about what had just happened. He’d been on his way to see Suzanne, after all. His father had seen signs in Bible verses—maybe Beck saw signs in having Lila pop up, or in this case down, everywhere he went. Then he turned and looked squarely into her eyes, deciding maybe it was time to just cut the crap. “Or maybe I’m just really into you.”
“Oh.” The statement warmed Lila to her core. But she couldn’t meet his gorgeous brown eyes after that—so she jerked her gaze forward, to the horses and the snow and the merriment of Harbor Street at Christmastime. She couldn’t meet his eyes because it would make her feel his words even more profoundly. And she couldn’t feel them—she couldn’t let herself. Only madness that way lay, and she had more than her fair share of madness going on already. It had been one thing to acknowledge her own growing feelings for him, but to find out he felt the same way—she simply couldn’t handle that right now.
Next to her, he said nothing more, instead reaching for a plaid blanket folded on the seat beside them, and spreading it over both their laps. A brisk and biting breeze nipped at their skin and the blanket made her feel cozy and warm. Taken care of. Safe.
She didn’t want to be a woman who needed to feel taken care of. But sometimes, sometimes, it was just nice. And she did want to be a woman who felt safe—always. And an undeniable truth remained—Beck had been making her feel safe since the moment they met, since the moment he surrendered that bulldozer key when she’d asked for it. Even while taking something she valued dearly, even while unwittingly making her feel she was choosing between him and Meg, even with all that, he made her feel safe. How was that even possible?
* * *
SUZANNE HAD SOLD the last Christmas trees—even if at rock-bottom prices. And by day’s end, most of the wreaths and remaining pine boughs had found good homes for the holiday, as well, and the poinsettias were gone except for a few white ones. Those she would donate to Dahlia for the café—maybe take one home for herself.
By most counts, it had been a lovely event—lovely weather, lovely customers, lovely caroling by the choir from the pretty white church at the opposite end of Harbor Street, and a lovely cup of hot chocolate she’d just treated herself to from the Cozy Tea and Coffee shop after closing up Petal Pushers. Dahlia’s had closed, too, and darkness now descended over the island—days ended early in December—but the fudge shop, Knitting Nook, and coffee shop still bustled cheerfully with holiday business, along with a few gift shops and boutiques that opened their doors for this one and only occasion in the wintertime. Even so, a knot lay low in the pit of her stomach—no matter how much she tried to distract herself or wish it away.
Stepping back out into the snowy street lit mostly by Christmas lights now, she heard the bells on Anson’s red sleigh and looked up to see it coast smoothly to a halt a few steps away. Dahlia and Mr. Desjardins stepped down, laughing, holding hands. Maybe it was the dim lighting, but for a moment Dahlia looked like a much younger lady, a fresh-faced girl in the prime of her life, a woman in love.
Only when Dahlia spotted her, too, and approached did Suzanne again see the vestiges of time in her friend’s face. Releasing her companion’s hand, Dahlia drew close to Suzanne. “Any Beck Grainger sightings?”
Last night, like a schoolgirl, Suzanne had texted Dahlia about her encounter with Beck outside the café. Now, once again, she felt silly. She attempted to shrug it off with a forced smile. “I thought I caught a glimpse of him out the window heading toward Petal Pushers a few hours ago. But then, next thing you know, he’s in a sleigh with Lila.” The last words felt like gravel in her throat and she winced a little as she spoke them.
“Perhaps Suzanne would join us at ze Pink Pelican for zomezing to eat?” the ever-suave Mr. Desjardins suggested from a few steps behind Dahlia. Today he wore an elegant wool coat of charcoal gray.
“Oh, that’s sweet of you to include me,” Suzanne replied over Dahlia’s shoulder, “but it’s been a long day.” Then she looked back to Dahlia and lowered her voice. “He’s a keeper.” She raised her eyebrows for good measure.
Even in the glow of holiday lights, Dahlia appeared flushed, almost girlish again, still smiling as she swiped a brightly mittened hand down through the air to say teasingly, “Oh, be quiet.” But Suzanne couldn’t help thinking that maybe she was getting through to her friend, making her appreciate her lover as...well, more than just a lover.
Though when he stepped up to join them, Dahlia blew out a big sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “My goodness, all this fun and excitement today has worn me out! Much as I hate to turn down a winter visit to the Pelican, I think I may have to, as well.”
Mr. Desjardins, ever the gentleman, looked completely undaunted. “Zen it will be my pleasure to escort my lovely lady home for a quiet evening.”
She tossed him a sideways glance. “Fair warning, Pierre—I may fall fast asleep!”
“Zen I hope you will allow me ze honor of holding you in my arms as you drift off to dreamland, my fair flower.”
Suzanne caught a light blush on Dahlia’s cheeks as she said quietly, “He calls me that sometimes, his fair flower, because of my name.”
“Shall we be off, flower?” he asked.
She gave a nod. “We shall.”
“Goodnight, my dear Suzanne,” Mr. Desjardins said in parting.
“Have a nice evening,” Suzanne replied, and when Dahlia cast her a last glance as the two started to walk away, Suzanne mouthed the word: Keeper.
* * *
DARKNESS HAD FALLEN completely over Harbor Street, but moonlight on snow, accented with Christmas lights on storefronts, lit the way as Beck walked Lila home.
After the sleigh ride, they’d shared pumpkin bread and a funnel cake bought from street vendors set up near the large Christmas tree, both agreeing winter was, in fact, the perfect season for funnel cakes since the snow made it much less noticeable when you ended up wearing the powdered sugar topping. They’d perused some of the shops, each picking up a couple of small gifts for family members, then hit Molly’s Fudge for the same purpose, though Beck treated them to a couple of slabs of chocolate-peanut butter fudge—one to share and another for Lila to take home, since she’d mentioned it was her favorite.
After listening to carolers, and briefly joining in on a children’s snowball fight in the park, they’d stopped into the Pink Pelican for a couple glasses of green Grinch nog and ended up grabbing burgers for an early dinner.
Now the shops were all closed, the Christmas Walk over. A certain finality struck Lila as she watched shopkeepers turning out their lights and locking their doors, knowing most of them wouldn’t open again until spring. Their holiday lights would continue to make Harbor Street merry, but other than a restaurant or two, Koester’s Market, and once-a-week knitting bees at the Knitting Nook, Harbor Street was officially closed for the season. It reminded her, too, how fast Christmas was coming.
Despite herself, she’d had a wonderful afternoon with the man next to her. And now, the usual inevitable emotions warred in her heart. It seemed that with Beck, she often didn’t know exactly what she was going to do or say until she did or said it, and so it was completely without forethought, but ignited simply by how much she enjoyed his nearness, that as they ascended the steps to the inn’s front porch, Lila bit her lip and asked, “Do you...want to come in?”
“I do,” he said evenly, “but I’m not going to.”
“Oh.” She tried not to feel the sting or embarrassment of being turned down.
“You look disappointed.”
She spared him only a sideways glance. “You claimed you were into me.”
“I am,” he assured her as they reached the door. “But you said it was pointless, remember? A guy’s gotta protect his heart.” He ended with a shrug.
She drew in a deep breath, let it back out. Her own heart beat a little too hard as she ventured, “Your heart is involved here?”
Another shrug from the handsome man now facing her on the porch. “Would I stay on this roller coaster of emotional abuse otherwise?”
A soft smile stole over her. But it lasted only briefly because of what the words meant. “Sounds like...maybe you’re getting off it.”
