by Liz Isaacson
She twisted in his arms, her eyes finding his and locking on. “You’ve always liked me.”
“That I have.” He smiled at her softly. “But this is a different kind of like,” he said. “This is the kind that makes my heart beat weirdly and my mouth go dry and my mind make up ways I can get you alone so I can….” He swallowed, his gaze dropping to her mouth. “Kiss you,” he finished hoarsely.
“Eli—a”
“We could be a family,” he said, his desperation rising no matter how he tried to tamp it down.
Meg’s tears fell again as she shook her head. “I can’t have kids, Eli. I can’t be a mother. No mother.” Her face scrunched up in pain. “No family.”
Eli held her tight even when she tried to pull away. “Sh.” She laid her head against his chest and cried, and Eli let her emotions rage out of her until she quieted.
“It wouldn’t be a traditional family,” he said, allowing her to step back, knowing she liked her space.
“Eli, we’ve spent countless hours together, right?”
“Right.”
“So I’ve heard you say lots of times that you want more kids. I can’t give you that.”
Eli didn’t know what to say or what to do. “Maybe I just need to re-evaluate what I want.”
She nodded, resignation flashing across her face. “We probably both do.” She hugged herself and looked away.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s time for dinner.” Meg wiped her eyes. “I need a few minutes to redo my makeup.”
“You look beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes and half-sobbed, half-scoffed. “Go on. I’ll meet you in there.”
Eli took a few steps away, then turned back. “You’re coming, right?”
“Yeah, I think I’ve caused enough drama for one night.”
“Not your fault,” he said, considering her. His heart did that weird thing, and his mouth turned dry, and he closed the distance between them again, sweeping one arm around Meg’s waist and pulling her close.
“See you out there.” He pressed his lips to her temple, nowhere near her mouth like he’d imagined doing. “It’s going to be a great Christmas, okay?”
Meg nodded, leaning into him for a few extra moments. “I just need—”
“A few minutes. I know. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
“You don’t need—”
“Meg. I haven’t been in a relationship for a very long time.” He swallowed, wondering what exactly he was saying. “But I know enough not to leave you to come into the dining room by yourself.” He ducked his head and pushed his hat further onto his head. “See you in a minute.”
He ducked back into the hall and pressed his back against the door, finally taking a deep, cleansing breath. Everything he’d said streamed through his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he’d just done the right thing or made the biggest mistake of his life.
Chapter Eight
Meg sat next to Stockton at dinner, and the name plate on the other side of her was Laney. The woman engaged Meg in a conversation about her life in Bora Bora, the children she’d looked after before getting hired by Eli, and what she was looking forward to in the new year.
Honestly, Meg’s gratitude for the woman swelled, and her love for her did too. It took a special person to be able to cut right through the awkwardness as if it wasn’t even there. She kept her attention on Stockton if he needed help or Laney, not even trying to extend her conversation to someone else or yell to be heard across the table.
A swell of noise went up, and she turned to see what the hubbub was about. Bree stood at the end of the table, under the archway that led into the hall—and directly under a sprig of mistletoe that hadn’t been there when Meg had come to dinner.
“Kiss her,” Graham called, and Meg realized that Eli sat directly next to Bree. Meg had come in with him, but the name plates must be honored, and she hadn’t wanted to sit with him anyway. She needed some breathing room, some time to process everything he’d said, all she’d told him, and what she believed.
Eli waved his brother’s demand away, his face turning bright red. “No, no.”
“Come on,” Andrew started. “No excuses, remember?”
“That wasn’t even here when we sat down,” Eli protested, his eyes landing on Meg’s. She ducked her chin so he had to look somewhere else. She didn’t need any more drama today. She also didn’t need to watch him kiss another brunette right in front of her.
Bree stood there, laughing, her dark locks falling over her shoulder in gloriously perfect waves. Meg would kill for hair like that, but she didn’t have it so she wore hers short.
“Come on,” Beau called. “It’s just a kiss.”
It wouldn’t be just a kiss to Meg—or to Eli. The man hadn’t even been on one date since the death of his wife. As far as Meg knew he hadn’t even had a crush on a woman since.
“Kiss her, kiss her,” the brothers started chanting. Meg’s mother lifted her roll to her mouth as if she were deaf and couldn’t hear the Whittaker ruckus surrounding her. Amanda caught Meg’s eye with sorrow in hers, and Meg wanted to bolt again.
So everyone knew about her feelings for Eli. You haven’t tried to hide them, at least recently, she thought.
Finally Eli stood, his face set on angry, the flush there probably more from fury than anything else. He grabbed Bree with both hands and bent her back, much to his brothers’ delight. They whooped and cheered as he kissed her, but all Meg could think was that she’d never be able to unsee that embrace.
Eli righted Bree and glared at everyone sitting at the table, Meg included. Then he stomped out of the dining room as the noise died down.
Meg pushed her peas around on her plate, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Laney’s hand covered hers, and that unleashed a wave of emotion Meg wouldn’t be able to hold back even if she tried her hardest.
So she didn’t try. She looked at Laney, sure all the hurt, the jealousy, and the desperation were plain for the other woman to see.
“Don’t worry about it,” Laney whispered, reaching up to wipe Meg’s eyes. “He likes you, Meg. He’ll come around.”
Meg never was one to kiss and tell, so she didn’t say anything about Eli’s confessions to her. She still wasn’t sure what she believed and if his timing was genuine.
Coffee and cider got served, and Celia made Stockton move down a chair so she could have the one right next to Meg. She put one arm around her shoulder, and Meg wanted to lean into her and have a good cry.
“Come on, dear.” Celia stood and left the dining room, hardly anyone watching her. But when Meg got up, it seemed like every eye zoomed to her. The chatter died as if Meg herself had killed it.
She managed to keep her tears dormant until she joined Celia in her big bedroom upstairs. Then she curled into the older woman—the woman who had become so much like the mother Meg had always wanted—and cried.
She woke in the middle of the night, disoriented and afraid. This isn’t my bedroom, she thought, sitting up wildly and trying to get her bearings. Another body slumbered beside her, and she still wore her clothes from earlier.
She’d fallen asleep in Celia’s bed, and the other woman had clearly let her stay.
Meg didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to go creeping down the stairs in the middle of the night so she could sleep in a room only a wall away from the man who she simultaneously wanted to spend a lot of time with and never wanted to see again.
Confused, she lay back down and stared toward the gray rectangle that indicated the window. Her face felt dry, crackly, and puffy, and she wiped her hand down her face, wishing she felt normal. Wondering what that even felt like, and if she’d be able to get back to that place again.
She dozed until Celia stirred, which also woke her. Meg moved to the edge of the bed and paused, feeling more tired now than she had last night, unsure if that was even possible.
“I thought you were spending Christmas wi
th your family,” Meg said.
“I am,” Celia said. “I’m just sliding a couple of casseroles in the oven and I’m heading out.”
Their eyes met, and Meg said, “You’re too good to this family.”
Celia gave her a small smile and came over to press her lips to Meg’s forehead. “They’re a good family. I’ll see you in a couple of days, but you call me if you need anything.” She gripped Meg’s shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “Okay?”
Meg nodded though she knew she wouldn’t be calling Celia unless there was a major catastrophe. Of course, with her mother here, a catastrophe might just happen. Meg showered in Celia’s attached bathroom and went downstairs with damp hair and no makeup to find the kitchen already hopping with people, conversation, and food.
She didn’t feel like being a zoo animal again, so she bypassed the festivities and headed down the hall toward her room. Before she even reached the office where Graham and Eli worked, Stockton called, “Meggy,” and she turned around.
“Hey, bud. Did you guys open presents yet?”
“No, Daddy wouldn’t let us until you came down.”
Meg looked up to find Eli standing at the far entrance to the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest. He wore a pair of black sweats that somehow looked like a tuxedo on him and a light blue T-shirt that strained across his chest and through his biceps. Even from several feet away, he looked exhausted.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she said.
“Sure we did.” Eli flashed a smile that barely stayed on his face long enough to see. “Let me get the others.” He walked back into the kitchen and everyone came spilling out into the foyer, where the Christmas tree shined it’s colored lights down on dozens and dozens of presents.
Meg really didn’t feel all that jolly, but she didn’t see how she could skip out on the present opening, especially as it seemed Eli had made his entire family wait for her. She tucked herself into a corner of the room while Amanda took the lead in handing out all the gifts. The Whittakers then went around in a circle, opening one present at a time and showing it to the group.
Meg had five presents—one from Eli, one from Stockton, one from Amanda, one from Celia, and one from Laney and Graham. She loved her new fuzzy socks with grips on the soles from Stockton, and the gift card for ebooks Amanda had bought for her. Laney and Graham had provided a gift certificate to the salon, and Celia had bought a baking cookbook that Meg leafed through while she waited for her turn to come around again.
Only Eli’s present remained, and she hoped he wouldn’t be stupid enough to give her something intimate she’d have to open in front of his whole family. At the same time, if it was something too impersonal, she felt sure her raisin of a heart would harden into a stone.
Her heart started skipping around like a frog when Stockton started unwrapping his next present. Eli had given him a painting set, and the boy laughed and launched himself into his dad’s arms.
Laney went again, and she opened an envelope from Eli that Meg knew was about the horse. Sure enough, Laney sucked in a breath and said, “Eli, you did not.”
“What?” Graham took the papers Laney handed to him, and Meg saw the colorful crayon Stockton had obviously used to make their card. “A horse?”
Laney jumped up, her face the picture of happiness as she embraced Eli. “Can we go meet her now?”
“I don’t think we’re done with the presents.”
But Meg jumped to her feet too. “I’ll get our winter clothes out. Come on, Stocky.” She extended her hand toward the little boy and he put his sweet fingers in hers.
“Do I have to wear the scarf, Meggy? It itches.”
“Depends on how hard the wind’s blowing, bud. It keeps your neck from freezing.” The party broke up, but Meg caught the look of displeasure on Eli’s face as he silently watched everyone file past him.
“Meg,” he tried, but she shook her head and nudged Stockton toward the mud room to get suited up to go out into the winter cold. The barns and stables at Whiskey Mountain Lodge sat down a path that Eli kept shoveled, past the yard, the volleyball courts, the swimming pool, and the strawberry patch.
It was a couple of blocks at most, and Meg usually liked making the walk, rain or shine. Snow or sun. She felt close to God out under the sky here in Wyoming, the peace in the quiet atmosphere, the scent of the oxygen here clean and crisp.
Today, though, with everyone tromping down there in a single-file line, it felt like a chore to walk that far. But she stayed behind Stockton so she didn’t have to go too fast, and so she didn’t have to walk by Eli.
She’d grown up around cowboys and horses, and the scent of hay and feed made her think of her childhood. Eli led Laney and Graham over to a beautiful red sorrel horse and said, “Ta-da.”
“I named ‘im Blue Moon,” Stockton said.
Graham scooped the little boy up. “He’s red, buddy.”
Stockton looked confused and he looked from Graham to the horse. “My dad said we could name him whatever.”
“I was under some stress,” Eli muttered.
“It’s a fine name,” Laney said, running her hand along the horse’s nose and face to scratch the animal behind its ears. She beamed at the animal, and Meg wondered if she loved anything as much as Laney loved horses.
Kids, probably.
Graham set Stockton down and joined his wife at the stable door, with Andrew and Beau crowding around as if they’d never seen a horse before.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Stockton said, tugging on her hand, and Meg turned with him to leave.
But Amanda said, “I’ll take him,” and slipped her hand into the little boy’s. “Come on, bud. Grandma’s too cold out here.”
“I’m not even wearing my scarf,” Stockton said like he was tough for leaving the itchy article of clothing behind. Meg watched them walk away, starting to feel the chill herself. She startled when a warm hand touched her cold one, and she started to pull away from them electric charge. Eli held her fast and wouldn’t let her retreat from him.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said, gently tugging her away from the stables but not back toward the lodge.
“I’m cold, Eli.”
“We won’t go far,” he promised. She expected him to say something about last night’s kiss, about something he’d said last night, something. But he just walked, their hands swinging easily between them.
“You didn’t open my gift,” he finally said.
“Laney opened the horse first.” Meg shrugged with one shoulder and kept her eyes on the frosted trees up ahead. “What was it?”
Eli chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not telling you, and as soon as we get back to the lodge, you’re opening it.”
She sighed and paused. “It’s not…romantic, is it?”
Eli gazed at her with adoration in his eyes, and Meg didn’t know what to do with it.
“I didn’t want to kiss Bree,” he said. “It was just good fun.”
“Sure,” Meg said. “But I don’t think you believe that.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Eli, I’ve worked for you for four years, and you have never once gone out with a woman. Or even looked at a woman.” She took a deep breath. “So I know that kiss made you angry, and it made me angry too.”
“I’m looking at you,” he said, swallowing. “And I want to kiss you.”
Meg’s frustration evaporated instantly and her heart thumped wildly against her ribs, cheering at the very thought of kissing Eli.
“There’s no mistletoe,” she whispered as he dipped his head closer to hers.
“None needed,” he murmured just before grazing her cheek with his lips. If he called that a kiss, Meg was going to have to educate him on how to kiss a girl. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“Honestly, Eli, I feel like a yo-yo.” She exhaled out a small laugh. “Up one minute and down the next. Wanting you one moment and not wanting you the next.” She leaned into his embrace, every ner
ve heightened in anticipation.
“Where are we right now?”
“I’d say up.”
“So kissing is okay?”
Meg had dreamed about kissing him so often, she was actually worried the real thing would be worse than her imagination. “Eli, if you don’t kiss me in the next ten seconds, I’m going back to the lodge alone.”
He swept his cowboy hat off in one quick movement and held her tighter. He paused for another moment, and Meg saw indecision and pain and hope and love in his eyes all at the same time. “I haven’t kissed someone in a long time,” he said, swallowing again.
“Sure you have. Last night.” A smile touched her lips as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, not nearly far enough to kiss her.
So Meg stretched up and closed the distance between them, finally matching her mouth to his. Fireworks exploded from the heat of his touch, from the gentle press of his lips to hers, and the way he slowly explored before deepening the kiss.
And while he hadn’t kissed a woman for real in a long time, he sure knew how to do it.
He pulled back, putting a hair of space between them. “Okay?”
Oh, that kiss was better than okay. Better than her fantasies too. Meg felt warm from head to toe, and all she wanted was to kiss him again. So she did.
Chapter Nine
Ninety percent of Eli really enjoyed kissing Meg, something he’d been thinking about doing for weeks. Ten percent of him wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he was cheating on Caroline, if he should be having a relationship with his nanny.
But that ten percent was easy to silence with the scent of Meg in his nose, the shape of her body beside his, and the way she loved his son.
Wrong reasons, he thought as he continued to kiss her. He felt positively steamy in the cold, Christmas morning, and when Meg broke their second kiss and giggled, Eli swayed on his feet.
