On Thin Ice

by Bernadette Marie

  “I always thought so.” Maggie stepped back. “I’m here, Wil. If you need to talk, you can talk to me.”

  “I know.” She moved around her and back to the dining room table to gather more plates, her mind focused on her task to keep from dwelling on the enormity of her failure as a wife.

  Christopher stepped back from the doorway where he’d been listening to his mother and Wil talk. His heart ached when he heard her talk about not wanting a marriage or children. He was wasting his time.

  Seeing her father dressed as Santa Claus was still fascinating and a bit eerie to Wil. “You amaze me. Every year you do this, and it’s the happiest moment for so many of these kids.”

  “And every year one of them pees on me.” He adjusted his belt and the pillow beneath the red suit coat.

  Maggie walked out of her bedroom dressed as Mrs. Claus, and the sparkle in her father’s eyes was undeniable. She was his Mrs. Claus, and it wasn’t just for the evening, it was forever.

  “Wil, are you sure you don’t want to go downtown with us? I know there are a lot of people who haven’t seen you yet.”

  “Chris and I are going to watch the tree lighting from the porch at Dad’s. So you two kids have fun and don’t feel like you have to tuck yourselves into bed too early.” She gave her father a wink, and his cheeks reddened to the color of his suit.

  Maggie, on the other hand, laughed. “Same goes.” She winked and walked out the door on the arm of Santa.

  Christopher filled the metal tub full of wood to stack next to his mother’s fireplace. Had the sun not already tucked itself in behind the mountains, he’d have gone and cut down a forest of trees himself.

  His breath carried on the frozen air as he cursed silently to himself. He’d heard her loud and clear. The last thing on her mind was marriage and children. How come it had to be the first on his?

  He’d been eighteen when he’d broken her heart. What an idiot to think that for one fleeting moment sex was more important than Wil’s trust.

  He threw another log onto the pile and straightened his back.

  She could hold a grudge. Didn’t Harvey ever teach her about forgiving and forgetting?

  Then again, why should she?

  He looked up at the clear sky. The stars burned bright. He’d toyed with the idea of proposing under those very stars. There was no ring, it had just been a thought. Things were going well, and until today he’d figured had he caught Wil at the right moment she’d jump at the proposal.

  But he’d seen her face when his mother mentioned it. No, there would be no proposal tonight.

  “I’m going to head home and get ready. You want to ride with me?” He turned to see Wil standing in the door, the light of the house glowing behind her.

  “I’ll meet up with you.”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.” But the anger he felt dripped in his voice.

  She gave him a nod and headed back through the house and out the other side.

  Christopher threw down the last log in his hand and kicked at the snow on the ground. Maybe it wasn’t going to be any different this time. Maybe he’d screwed things up so much fifteen years ago he should forget about even trying. Wil deserved better.

  He carried the tub inside and set it next to the fireplace. He took the poker and moved the logs around to kill the fire. How was he going to kill the fire in him though? No matter what he said to himself, he wanted Wil in his life. He wanted Wil as his wife. And until his mother had put in her opinion of grandkids, he hadn’t realized it mattered—but he wanted children. He wanted them with Wil. But she’d shot that notion down, hadn’t she?

  Christopher scooped back his hair with both his hands then let it fall. Christmas was a time to forgive. It was just time to make her do just that.

  Malory brushed the snow off the lounge on the back porch and moved all the other chairs away, ensuring that they would have to cuddle close in the only remaining one.

  She looked out over the lake. There were cars lined up on the bank, little fires crackled against the snow, and the noise of people moving in to watch the lighting of the tree filtered up to the porch. She’d never appreciated the proximity of the house to the lake as a child, but as a woman hoping for a romantic memory, she thought it was the perfect spot.

  She’d filled a bucket with snow and placed a bottle of champagne in it and set two glass flutes on the small table next to the lounge.

  It was cold enough to make her wonder what she was doing outside in the dark, but the thought of the warmth they’d be feeling soon helped her finish setting up.

  The air stirred and she heard the tires of his truck on the gravel out front then his footsteps as he walked around toward the back porch. She realized just how stunning a man he was as he came into the light from the house. He’d pulled on a stocking cap, and his curls hung loosely from under it. The thought crossed her mind that in all the years she’d known him he’d cut off those long, lazy curls just once. It hadn’t suited him. The length of his hair was part of the good-hearted-bad-boy image that defined Chris Douglas.

  He stomped the snow from his boots as he climbed the steps to the porch. “It’s freaking cold out here.”

  “Leave it to the residents of Aspen Creek to opt to light a Christmas tree in the cold.”

  He shook his head at her and she noticed his demeanor had changed since they’d had dinner at his mother’s.

  “How about a glass of champagne to warm you up?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged his shoulders and tightened the scarf around his neck.

  Malory poured them each a glass and handed one to him. “Here’s to a very productive new year.” She playfully raised her eyebrows and curled her lips into a seductive smile as she tapped her glass to his.

  “You seem pretty happy to be out here freezing to death.”

  “We can watch from inside if you want to. I just don’t think it’s quite the same.”

  He nodded and drank down his champagne. “You’re right. It’s been a long time since I’ve see this, but I am pretty sure the last time I parked by the lake to watch it I missed it anyway.”

  Malory bit her lip. She remembered that vividly too.

  “I promise you can watch this time.” She moved closer to him, lifting her free arm to encircle his neck. “That is, if you want to.”

  At that moment, a shower of white light exploded above them and rained down over the lake.

  “Looks like we’ll be watching.” He pulled her toward the lounge, picked up the quilt that lay there, sat down, and pulled her down to him.

  She pulled the quilt up over them and settled against his hard masculine body as he wrapped his arms around her. Snuggling on her father’s back porch, under a blanket, still gave her a little jolt as though they were sneaking around as they’d once done.

  They could hear the onlookers from around the lake as the fireworks exploded above the lake, mirroring themselves in the water.

  “Look.” Christopher pointed out to the lake where a sled was pulled by a single reindeer.

  On that sled was the mayor of Aspen Creek. He’d turn on the lights on the tree and the holiday season was officially started. The town would soon be crawling with tourists roaming the small town’s shops and visiting Santa Claus, who took up full-time residence on Main Street until Christmas Eve. His face changed almost daily, but the mystique never did.

  With the lighting of the tree, Christopher realized there were only two weeks to finish preparations for the Christmas pageant and the hockey game he was planning. He’d need to put in the footwork to promote it, but it was doable, greatly in part because he had Harvey Wilson as his partner.

  A breeze blew off the lake and with the smell of sulfur from the fireworks he caught the scent of Wil snuggled in close to him. The tree in the center of the lake burst into vivid color, and after the cheers and the sound of honking car horns died down, the crowd began to disperse from around the lake.

  Wil turned on the lounge an
d straddled his body.

  “We made it. We watched the whole thing.” She lowered herself and brushed his lips with the warmth of hers. “Dad is going to be a long time. Want to go inside and relive old times?”

  His body was reacting to her even though he wanted to keep it simply pliant under hers. She bit the fingertips of her gloves and pulled them off her hands. She pulled off his cap and ran her fingers through his hair pulling his face closer to hers.

  Christopher watched her. Her eyes were smoky and sultry as she wrapped her body around his. He held her back, his hands gripping her hips.

  He knew the timing was off, but the magic of the fireworks brought back the magic of that long-ago night.

  “Wil?”

  “Hmmm?” She nuzzled her lips against his throat.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  “What?” She moved her lips to his ear as she slipped her hands into his coat. The warmth of her touch sent his heart rate up, and he closed his eyes to gather himself and his courage.

  “Will you marry me?”

  She shot up and the smoky haze that had clouded her eyes cleared instantly. The crease between her eyebrows gave him his answer without a word being spoken.

  He lifted her off him and stood to pace the patio. “I knew what your answer would be. I don’t know why I asked.”

  “I don’t think I gave you an answer.” She bounded from the lounge and stood next to him. “What is this about?”

  “Well, Wil, you’re amazing, aren’t you? A man asks you to marry him and you want to know what that’s about?”

  “We didn’t discuss this.”

  “No, that would be part of the element of surprise, now wouldn’t it?”

  He turned from her and looked out over the lake and the tree whose lights glimmered on the waves of the water. Now he’d wished he’d planned it out better. He wished he’d had a ring and some romantic words planned out. But he hadn’t.

  “Never mind. Let’s just forget I said anything.” He turned toward the house and yanked open the patio door.

  Wil followed him inside. She stomped her feet on the mat by the door. “Why did you do that? Why did you ask me to marry you?”

  “Why did you freak out?”

  “I didn’t freak out.”

  “Oh, you most certainly did.” He stepped to her, towering over her, but she didn’t back away. “Your forehead got all crinkled up and your eyes lost their shine. Most women jump up and down, kiss the man that asked, and answer with a yes.”

  “Most women aren’t me.” She shoved her hands at his chest.

  “No, Wil. That’s kinda why I like you so much.”

  “Like me?” Her eyes shot open and her hands flew into the air.

  “Forget it. I have things I should be doing. I’ll let you be.”

  Malory stomped her feet again on the mat then toed off the fancy pair of boots she wore. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I knew the whole topic was a sore one for you, but I asked anyway. It’s my fault.”

  “What do you mean you knew it was a sore topic?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a breath. She was going to be even more pissed when he told her he’d overheard her conversation with his mother, but it had to be said so he told her.

  Malory’s eyes opened wide and the subtle sexy trance look was gone. Fury filled them now.

  She balled her fists on her hips. “You stood there listening to our conversation?”

  “It just happened, Wil. I’m sorry.” He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t see what your problem is. Why does marriage upset you so much? You’re the one who was married. You must have found something good about it.”

  “Did you miss the memo on my divorce?”

  “So one ended, did you love him like you love me?”

  Her jaw dropped. “I don’t think I’ve told you I love you. How conceited can you get?”

  “Well, I love you. I thought there were some mutual feelings there. What did that ex-husband do to put marriage out of your mind?”

  “Why does everyone assume Alan did me wrong?”

  “Because if he was a good husband, you’d still be married to him.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip and took in a deep breath. “What if marriage vows don’t mean squat? What if you say you love someone only to find out he isn’t the person you wanted to be with? What if one stupid error in judgment tears apart everything you held dear?”

  She couldn’t let it go. “Wil, I was stupid. I can’t say I’m sorry anymore for dumping you at the prom to sleep with . . . whoever she was.”

  “You ass!” She turned from him and started toward the living room. “It’s not always about you. Do you get that? Every problem or every solution isn’t on the shoulders of the almighty Christopher Douglas.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She spun around toward him. Tears welled in her eyes, and she whisked them away with the back of her hand.

  “I’m the one who wrecked my marriage.” She jabbed her thumb at her chest. “Alan left me because I had an affair.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Christopher had been blindsided before. He’d been knocked from behind and thrown head first into the boards. This was worse.

  He stood there staring at her. She’d slapped him with something he simply couldn’t wrap his head around. Was she joking? She’d had an affair that ended her marriage?

  Fifteen years he’d agonized about a meaningless quickie in the back of his car with someone who wasn’t Wil. It had taken fifteen years for her to speak to him again, and she still held it against him. Why wouldn’t she? It was a backhanded thing to do to the girl you loved.

  Wil was the kind of person who did everything by the book. He’d grieved over the fact that she was going to be married for life and have a half dozen kids. Any hope of getting her back had ended.

  Now her marriage ended because of her—the woman who didn’t have it in her nature to cheat. Because of her lack of judgment. Because of her lack of self-control.

  “Christ, Wil.” He shook his head and frowned.

  “I didn’t ask you to tell me you love me and I didn’t ask for you to propose to me.”

  “Well, my mistake.” He stood and walked to the front door. “You know, Wil, you’re some piece of work.” He yanked open the door, his head reeling as if he’d been smacked with a hockey stick. She was right behind him. He turned back to her. “You’re right. You didn’t ask me to fall in love with you or to marry you. All I really wanted from you was forgiveness and I figured the rest would fall into place. But here you are.” He scooped his hands through the air as though he could somehow grasp the truth. “You’re no better than me. You never were. We were just the two kids in town with missing pieces, and we still are.”

  “We are not the same. Nothing about us is the same. You had your dreams come true, Mr. Hockey Star. What did I get?”

  “You know, Wil, getting what you always wanted isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. I didn’t have a simple life or a woman to love. I don’t have a family with four kids and a backyard full of plastic toys. You could have had that, Wil. It was what you wanted. You had your hands around it and you let go.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “You’re right. I don’t, and you don’t seem to want me to know.” He stepped out of the door. “Night, Wil. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Malory slammed the door so she wouldn’t have to watch him walk away. They weren’t the same, never had been.

  She dropped down into the couch and sobbed. Why did he have to make it so hard? There were no plans inside of her to forgive what he’d done to her, just like there were no plans in Alan’s heart to forgive or forget what she’d done to him either.

  When she’d decided to move back to Aspen Creek she’d hoped that being home would give her the strength to face her failure and regain her self-respect. Would s
he have come back had she known Christopher Douglas was going to be there to rub her face in her mistakes?

  She sat up and brushed off her cheeks. Well, it didn’t matter. As of ten o’clock tomorrow morning, she’d own a bakery and she’d have what she needed. She didn’t need a man and she didn’t long for kids anymore. Well, not too much, anyway. If Christopher Douglas was going to be a fixture in town, he’d just have to be part of her life. But they didn’t have to be in love or get married. That hadn’t been in the plan.

  Who was she fooling? It had always been her plan.

  She fell onto the couch and pressed her face into the cushions.

  She’d married a man, a decent and kind man, just to forget that Christopher had broken her heart. Wouldn’t it have just been better if she’d dealt with Christopher back then instead of burying herself into a life that hadn’t fit?

  She flipped over on the couch and stared at the ceiling. That was exactly how it had always felt. Alan just didn’t fit. He wasn’t the least bit reckless or spontaneous. There was no electricity or fire between them. What he saw in her, she still didn’t understand. But he’d dulled the pain of losing Christopher.

  Malory walked back out to the patio and brought in the glasses and the unfinished champagne. She walked to the sink, set the glasses in one side, and poured the champagne down the drain. What a waste of a celebration.

  It had been a waste of time for her to hate Christopher too, she decided. Just like the champagne, she’d poured her life down the drain when she took a lover and lost her husband. Now taking that lover had cost her . . . well . . . it cost her the man she’d always loved. No one could ever have replaced him, and she’d been foolish to think it was worth trying. Alan’s heart was broken and now so was Christopher’s.

  She turned off the lights in the kitchen and the living room and headed back to her bedroom. It was still Thanksgiving, and though she was feeling mighty thankless, she needed redemption. She had to try and set right her mistakes and then move on.