Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology

by Violet Vaughn

  “It is.” He moves to the sliding glass door. “I’ll bet you stand at this door and look at the stars almost every night, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you still look for a shooting star to wish on?”

  “Yes.” Cold glass chills my fingers when I place my hand on the door. I think of all those wishes I made in Vermont for a family. I remember how we fell apart when I told him, and he said he didn’t want children. “But my wish has changed.” I turn to him. “Now all I wish for is you.”

  His eyes glisten as he tucks a curl behind my ear. I’m not sure what he thinks, and it scares me. I’m afraid he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear, so before he can, I ask, “Ready for pie?”

  “Sure. Give me a Casey cut, please.”

  I chuckle at him. My idea of a piece of pie is almost a quarter of it, while his is more like an eighth. I prepare bowls of warm pie with vanilla ice cream. “Let’s go eat on the couch. We can watch a movie.”

  After the movie, he’s yawning, and I say, “I think it’s time I take you home. Ready?”

  “I’m tired. All that food and wine made me fat and happy. Thank you. Dinner was amazing.”

  I smile. “I like you that way.” He puts on his boots as I do the same. “I’m glad you liked it.” I remember to go get him the pie I packed to take home.

  He walks out the door ahead of me and shakes his head. “Interesting plowing technique you’ve got going here.”

  “I’ll shovel it.” Cold nips at my nose as I say, “I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Not all of us have a plow, you know.”

  “I might know someone who could help you out. I’ll send him by.”

  I open his door to let him in the car. “Thanks. That would be great. How should I pay him?” I have a hint of an evil smile on my face.

  “He doesn’t want your money.” Jason sits and gazes up at me. “He likes pie.”

  I hand him the plastic container. “Here’s a deposit.” He grins, and the door slams shut.

  Driving to his house, we’re quiet. The snow falls faster now, and while tonight it came off the windshield with a swipe of the wipers, tomorrow I’ll have to spend a little time cleaning my car. My palms sweat once as I pull into the driveway. I put the car in park and turn to him. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

  He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabs my shoulders and crushes me with a kiss that takes my breath away. His hands thread through my hair, and my body aches for more. I pull away with the intention of stopping, but he starts to kiss my neck. I moan before he returns to my mouth. I move my hands from his chest to around his back so I can pull him closer. I can’t seem to feel enough of him.

  When he breaks away, I take a deep breath. “Wow, I’m not sure I can drive home.”

  He snickers. “Just making sure you dream about me.”

  “Don’t you know I already do?” I fan myself.

  His eyelids are heavy with lust. “You’ll have to show me what we do in those dreams.”

  “Is that an invitation?” I would so go up to his room right now.

  “Maybe.” He grins and opens his door. “Thanks for dinner. Tonight was great.”

  I watch him walk to his house, and I think about how well tonight went. When he waves before he goes in, I sigh.

  30

  Merino wool is soft on my fingers as it glides through to my needles. Christmas is coming, and even though I know Jason hates this holiday, I’m knitting socks to give him as a present. His childhood wasn’t the most pleasant, and he told me holidays weren’t fun. I yank on the ball to release the tension and relax into the methodical clicking of my needles. I’m determined to create a few happy holiday memories for him. I hope every time he wears them he’ll think of me and smile.

  Curled up on the couch with my project, I try to decide what cookies to make tonight as I get a jumpstart on baking day. I plan to give little tins of homemade goodies to my friends on Christmas Day. The instructors with families get the holiday off, while the rest of us without children work, but I don’t mind. I didn’t go home to my parents’ last year for the holidays either. Instead, I sent a box with gifts ahead of time and got one in return.

  Megan and Nick have invited me to dinner Christmas Eve. Megan suggested I invite Jason, and I’m nervous to ask him. This holiday is a touchy subject from our past. Jason finds this time of year aggravating, and no matter how hard I tried in the past, he refused to celebrate it with me. My needles click as I move along at a steady pace. I’ll never stop trying to help him see the joy, but it’s best if I do so in subtle ways, because I don’t want to ruin how well things are going now. I decide a text might make it seem like no big deal.

  “Dinner at Nick and Megan’s the 24th. Want to go?” I put my phone far enough away that I can’t check it every minute and drive myself crazy. I think about how tough the holiday will be for Clara this year. I glance over in the corner where I imagine they used to put the tree. My friend will find a way to make it special for her children, and it warms my heart to know that Blaine will be there for her too. I smile as I think about the gifts I mailed for the kids last week.

  The rattle of my phone vibrating makes me get up to see the text. It’s from Jason. “Sure.”

  Well, that was easy. Another text comes in. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m about to start baking day. You?”

  “Hoping I get some :)” He left it wide open, and I can’t resist.

  “I know just the girl. :D Want to come over?” That means I’ll have to put my knitting away, but I don’t mind, because it also it means I get to spend time with Jason.

  “On my way.”

  Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and when Jason steps inside, he says, “Tell me about baking day.”

  “It’s all about cookies. I make as many as I can. Then I distribute them in tins for friends as presents.” The door clicks shut behind him.

  “Do you eat any?” His smile is playful as he sits on the couch. He glances at the array of recipes printed out on the coffee table.

  “Of course. Why? Do you want to help?” I sit to face him, and my knee bumps into his thigh. He places his hand on my leg, and I lean in toward him.

  “I might.” He rubs my knee as he hesitates. “Can we start out slowly? Maybe with one batch?”

  I nod as I stand. “One batch it is. How about those molasses cookies you love?”

  Jason gets up to follow me into the kitchen. “Lead the way.”

  “Grab the eggs and butter from the fridge for me,” I say as I set the recipe down on the counter and search in the cabinet for a bowl. The oven beeps as I set it. The sugar and flour canisters on the counter scrape as I pull them out and begin to measure ingredients.

  I turn to Jason staring at me as if he doesn’t know how to cook. He was quite proficient as a sous chef, but I wonder if he’s ever baked. I ask, “Haven’t you ever made cookies?”

  “No.”

  “Here.” I hand him the bowl that contains butter and sugar. “This is called creaming.”

  Eggs crack before I add them to the batter so Jason can mix it up. When he’s done, I pour in the dry ingredients. I ask, “Did your mother bake for the holidays?”

  “No.” Jason focuses on the batter instead of looking at me as he says, “We didn’t celebrate Christmas.”

  Cookie sheets clatter on the stovetop, and I take the bowl from his hands. “I though you were Catholic.”

  “I am.”

  Jason won’t look at me, and I recognize his subtle clue that he doesn’t want to talk about something, so I change the subject. “I think this is one of my favorite parts about Christmas. There’s such a feeling of completion when cookies are lined up when you’re done.”

  I hand Jason a spoon and show him how to place the dough on the cookie sheet before I slide it into the oven. I tell him about who I’m baking for as we prepare another pan.

  The aroma of molasses and ginger
fills the kitchen, and Jason leans against the counter to say, “There’s a reason I don’t like Christmas.”

  The oven door creaks as I open it to remove the tray of goodies. Jason says, “When I was five, my father committed suicide the day before Christmas.”

  I glance at him as the cookie sheet slips from my hand. It crashes on the floor. We both bend down to clean up my mess as tears form in my eyes.

  He says, “We had just come back from shopping, and when we got inside, my dad was asleep on the couch. Only he wasn’t sleeping. He’d taken a bottle full of pills and was dead.”

  Cookies burn my fingers as I stare at him. “Oh my god, Jason.” A tear rolls down my cheek, leaving a wet trail.

  “My mom freaked. She started screaming and yanked down the tree. Ornaments shattered and flew everywhere as I ran to wake up my father.” He swallows before he continues. “I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t wake up until my brother told me he was dead.”

  I reach up, and Jason’s cheek is warm when I place my palm on it. “I’m so sorry.”

  He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “My mother told my brother and me there would never be another Christmas in our house, and she was right.”

  Now tears are streaming down my face, and I notice Jason’s eyes are glassy too as he pulls me into his lap to hold me tight. He’s trembling beneath me as I cry against his chest, and he strokes my hair. He says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before. It’s just… It’s hard to talk about.”

  I sniff and pull away to gaze into his eyes. “I understand.” I reach up, and one of his tears is warm on my finger when I wipe it away.

  “This year I’ve decided I’m done hating Christmas. Will you help me?”

  “Of course.” My sleeve is rough on my cheeks as I dry my face, and I stand with the tray full of broken cookies. “The first sheet is never good. Let’s put the next one in.”

  After we finish making cookies, we prepare a plate and two glasses of milk to go watch a movie. Jason puts his arm around me as we snuggle on the couch, and sweet molasses flavor fills my mouth as I eat. I glance at the man I love, and my heart aches as I imagine the pain he endured as a child. I vow to myself that Christmas for Jason will be wonderful from now on.

  * * *

  The day after Jason and I made cookies is our scheduled day off. We coordinated it with Nick and Megan because after the first powder day together, Nick suggested the idea. The four of us love to ski similar terrain, and it makes our day off super fun. With a two-week period of holiday vacationers approaching, this would’ve been my last chance at a break for a while. But I took a requested private instead. The pay is a lot more money, and it’s a sweet older woman named Meredith I couldn’t refuse. I wait for her at the private sign.

  A teenaged girl screams as she skis by. Following a precarious turn, she falls and laughs. A friend skis up to her and joins in the fun. I watch for Meredith’s familiar jacket and notice Jason near the lodge. It seems strange to me because I assumed he’d ski with Nick and Megan today. He approaches a girl in a helmet with sandy-blond hair poking out the bottom. Is that Cassie? Jealousy seeps into my veins. They embrace for a moment and then walk toward the chair. As they get closer, I recognize the face. He is skiing with Cassie. My stomach clenches as they get close enough that I could call out, but I don’t. I shove the green monster aside and rationalize. She’s just a friend, and he’s probably helping her out. I know she doesn’t ski very well, and he may be giving her an informal lesson. I take a deep breath and walk toward them.

  “Hey, guys!” I wave, and they both glance at me. “Cassie, how’s your winter going?”

  She frowns for a second before it morphs into a smile. “Great. My skiing’s getting better, and Jason’s going to give me some tips today.” Jason smiles at me, and I think he might like this version of me. Cassie says, “I meant to thank you for putting in a good word for me with Mrs. Matheson. The boarding house is more affordable than my other options.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad to hear it’s working out.” I glance at Jason. “You two have a great day. I see my private. Bye!” I move past them to take Meredith’s skis as I mentally pat myself on the back. I have nothing to worry about. If Jason wanted to be with her, he wouldn’t be inviting himself over to snuggle on the couch. She also wouldn’t have been so pleasant to me. Yup, that was a much better approach than grabbing the closest guy and doing what I can to make Jason see I’m desirable. I greet Meredith with a big smile.

  31

  I watch snow kick up from the back of Jason’s snowshoes. It sticks to the seat of his pants, and I’m tempted to slap it off. We’re tromping through the woods behind my house. It’s an unusually warm day, and my hair is damp with sweat from the effort of lifting my snowshoes, which are coated with heavy snow. I’ve already removed my hat, but I’m still too hot, so I call out to Jason, “Hold up a minute. I want to take off my jacket.” I slide off the pack that holds our picnic.

  He comes to me to take the backpack from my hands, and I tie the arms of my jacket around my waist. “We got lucky. It’s a great day for this.” His face shines as he speaks, and I notice the sun glisten off a few blond hairs in his day-old beard. My heart flutters at how sexy he looks.

  I slip on the pack, and Jason leads on. He moves faster than I would, and I’m slightly out of breath. He doesn’t even seem to be winded. “How is it you’re making me work hard to keep up with you? I thought I was in good shape.”

  “I’ve been running. I figured it was the best way to get my high-altitude lungs. I guess it worked.”

  “That explains why your butt looks so good.” I hear his snort, and he adds a little swagger to his movements. I say, “Since you’re in such great shape, maybe you should carry the pack.”

  He turns to walk backward, which is no small feat in snowshoes. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he says, “Happily, but you have to go first now. I hear the view is something I shouldn’t miss.” He starts to laugh and stumbles to land in the snow with a plop.

  I walk over and gaze down at him as I let the backpack fall off my arms with a thud.

  “Help me up?” He reaches out a hand.

  I know better but grab it anyway. Within seconds, I’m in the snow next to him. I lay back and let it cool my body. “Thanks. This feels great.”

  “Really? Are you that hot?” He looks down at me with an evil grin on his face.

  I reach up and pull him by his fleece to bring him closer. “I believe I am. Should I prove it?” I don’t wait for an answer as I lift my head to kiss him. His tongue meets mine, and we melt into each other.

  Jason pulls away and takes off a glove. He grabs a handful of snow, and slides it over my neck. Cold water drips from where it melts, and I squeal as he holds me down and says, “You most definitely are hot.”

  Shivers run down my spine, but not from the cold. And when he releases me, I sit up to slap at his chest. “You’re evil.” I hop up. “We need to keep moving. I want to find that clearing you showed me last fall.”

  Jason’s face lights up, and I know he remembers the magical place. “Do you have any idea how to find it? I’m aware of your sense of direction. I think it’s for the wrong planet.”

  “Very funny. I can’t believe you doubt me.” I give him a sly smile and unzip the outer pocket of my pack. I pull out a map. Paper rustles as I unfold it. “I come prepared. Look at this.” I show him the topographical map with a penciled route and notes. He studies it, and I reach down to my fleece zipper and hold out the small compass attached. “And this is my secret weapon.”

  “Nice. I’m impressed.” He nods, and I can tell he means it. “Let’s get going, then. I can’t wait to see what else you packed.”

  Nylon swishes as we move. The beginning of our hike was easy compared to what we’re doing now. In thick woods, we part trees and maneuver our feet through low branches and fallen logs. Fortunately, I hiked back here a few times last summer and know the trees thin soon. I
also know we’re about to come to a small pond, and this time of year I expect we should see animal tracks near the water.

  I stop and turn back to Jason. “It’s about to clear, and there’s a nice spot for a break. Sound good to you?”

  “Yes. Want water?” He has taken off the pack and pulls out our bottles from the side pockets. His smooth locks are a stark contrast to the rough stick I remove from his hair, and my fingers long to feel more.

  “It’s pretty out here,” he says. “If we didn’t sound like a couple of elephants, I’d bet we’d see some wildlife.”

  “I know. We can try to be quiet when we rest, and maybe we’ll have a sighting. There are deer and elk in these woods.” I put my bottle back in the pack he has returned to his back. “Do you ever wonder what it must have been like to live in the woods during the eighteen hundreds? When I was a little girl, I read the Laura Ingalls Wilder series a few times. She made it sound fun and fascinating, and part of me wishes I could experience it.” I hold a branch back for Jason to grab so it doesn’t hit him as he goes by.

  “I do. I’ve thought about what it would be like to build a house using trees I cut myself. I think we would have been great pioneers.”

  “If I had you, then I think you’re right.” I look back at Jason to see his reaction. He’s smiling.

  “Want to live off the grid with me?” He has a joking tone, but I sense he’s considered it.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I could live without getting to be girly from time to time. I kind of like heels, makeup, and pedicures.” I duck under a thick branch, and it catches my hair. I yank back, leaving some behind.