Joseph grunted in return. The few moments they’d shared were apparently all he had to offer. Which was fine by Ginger, because those few moments left her unsettled. In such a short time, he’d seen something in Ginger that those closest to her had overlooked for years. Feeling lighter than a newborn reindeer, Ginger had the overwhelming desire to spread Christmas joy all over the world—or at least her little corner of it.
“Layla, what would you say to adding a few Christmas decorations to the front of the house?”
Layla stopped in her tracks. Her seriousness didn’t bode well. “I don’t think Uncle Joseph would like it.”
“Really? Not even a wreath or something for the front door?”
Layla shook her head, her lips pressed tight. “My mom said he doesn’t like Christmas, and since I moved, Santa might not be able to find me, so I shouldn’t expect—” She examined her boots. “Never mind.”
Ginger’s heart about exploded with love for this girl. Dropping to her knees in the snow, she took Layla by both shoulders. “I can guarantee you Santa knows where you live. You mailed your letter, right?”
Layla nodded but didn’t lift her chin.
“What is it, sugarplum?” Ginger noted that she’d called Layla the same nickname her mom called her. It just slipped out, and she had no desire to take it back.
Layla shook her head.
“You know what, you don’t have to tell me.” Ginger hid her grin. A little bit of Santa magic could go a long way to loosening tight lips. “How about we make sure Santa can see your house from the sleigh?”
“How would we do that?”
“By building a snowman, of course. The biggest snowman ever!” Ginger scooped up a handful of snow and packed it together. “You make the head and I’ll get started on the body.”
“But what about the cookies?”
“I have the whole afternoon.” And want to stay as far away from town as possible. “We can do both.”
“Yeah!” Layla formed a snowball and began rolling it around the yard.
Ginger did the same and, with a little Santa goodness, was able to make a giant ball. She quickly sculpted some steps so she could reach the top. Layla helped lift the head on, pushing as high as she could go, and a stiff western breeze did the rest.
Using her Santa purse, Ginger produced coal eyes, buttons the size of her fist for the front, a green scarf, and a top hat. They giggled as they dressed their giant gentleman. Lastly, Ginger pulled out a sign that said “Santa Stop Here” and planted it in front of his royal frostiness. With Layla’s heart lightened and Ginger’s sense of Santa duty satisfied, they marched inside to make some cookies.
*
Joseph flipped his back to the window. Staying indoors while Ginger and Layla built the world’s biggest snowman had taken all of his mental and emotional strength. His inner child, the one who had been pushed aside by endless chores and too much responsibility, had begged to go play. And yet he had refused, telling that little boy that he was too old now; his time for childish things had passed, and it couldn’t be recaptured.
Ginger could come in here and reminisce about her grandpa. She had many sweet memories to draw upon; he could tell by the love that shone when she talked about him. But Joseph had no such memories and would be better served channeling his energy into something he could sell to support his niece.
Hefting a new log onto his carving stand, he circled it several times before deciding it would make a good grizzly cub. He already had the black stain, and a cub this size would ship easily. After checking the oil in his chainsaw, he got to work, forcing thoughts of Ginger’s pretty eyes full of loneliness, and the desire to do something about it, out of his mind.
Chapter Thirteen
“Whoa, that’s a lot of cookies,” exclaimed Joseph.
Ginger’s hand flew to her hip. “Considering the morning I had, this is pretty tame.” She surveyed the two dozen gingerbread men, the thirty sugar cookie stars, and the chocolate peppermint crinkles with cream cheese frosting. There was a special plate of dog-bone-shaped chicken biscuits for Timber. The dog had watched the festivities from his spot by the fireplace. When Ginger offered him a snack, he sat on her boot and wagged his tail. “I tend to bake when I’m upset—it’s a family trait.”
“Is that crushed candy canes?” Joseph pointed to the dusting on top of the crinkles. He leaned over and sniffed one.
Ginger untied her black-and-white-checked apron with the red ruffle—one of her personal favorites. “My sister Robyn is partial to the fruity flavors, but I find that I’m a purist when it comes to candy canes. Mint is the only way to go.”
“Try one.” Layla held up a plate of cookies.
Joseph did as he was told. He took a bite and his eyes dropped shut. Moaning softly, he clutched his stomach. “This is awful.”
Layla’s face fell, and Ginger panicked. She picked up a cookie and took a quick bite. Layers of chocolate, cream cheese frosting, and a hint of peppermint melted over her tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with my cookies,” she said in a tone that implied something was wrong with him.
Joseph stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth and took the plate from Layla. “No, I mean it,” he continued, shoveling another cookie in his mouth. “These are horrible. I think I’d better get rid of them.” He headed down the hallway.
By now, Layla was giggling, and Ginger’s tart thoughts had sweetened right up.
“Uncle Joseph, no food in your room.” Layla grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards the kitchen.
“Then I’ll put them up here so no one else has to eat them.” He opened the small pantry and set the plate on the top shelf, where neither Layla nor Ginger could reach.
“I’m going to put these on the tree before you eat them!” Layla rushed off with the gingerbread men they’d strung on ribbons.
Joseph shut the door to the pantry, folded his arms, and leaned against it.
“You haven’t tried the others.” Ginger lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you planning on eating them all yourself?”
He reached for a star. “It’s an option. I haven’t had dinner yet.”
Ginger laughed. “I’m the first one to say that cookies are a perfectly acceptable main dish.” She backed up to the stove and lifted a lid, allowing the smell of a hearty beef stew—heavy on the vegetables, since she doubted these two had a veggie-sufficient diet—to overshadow the sugars in the air. Joseph followed his nose around the island and leaned over the pot.
He was suddenly close enough for Ginger to see the small laugh lines around his eyes. So he does smile. Once again, her attention was drawn to his beard—nicely trimmed, she noticed—and dusted with sawdust. Chuckling, she used the apron she’d just removed to cup his cheeks and wipe away the dust. “You’ve got something there.”
Joseph paused at her touch, the stew seemingly forgotten. That sense of connection was back—a hundredfold.
Meeting his gaze, Ginger was delighted by the silver flecks in his eyes. Like tinsel, they reflected the light and something more. Something she had a hard time naming, because she’d never seen it before. It both startled and excited her, causing her to become as frozen as an ice statue, though she was warm enough to melt the entire North Pole.
Joseph must have felt it too, because he gazed into her eyes with intensity. “You smell like sugar,” he said, his voice warm like maple syrup, his lips close. Kissably close.
“It’s the cookies,” she insisted. Her eyes darted to his lips and back. Wanting him to kiss her was a really bad idea, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from doing just that.
“You made stew, too, and you don’t smell like carrots.” His eyes dropped to her lips.
Ginger melted, unable to come up with a reply.
“Can I ask you something, Ginger?” He said her name with a tenderness that belayed his gruff act.
“Yes?” You can ask me out to dinner. You can ask me out to lunch. You can ask me to stay for a movie night.
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“Can I have my face back?”
“Oh!” Ginger dropped her hands and jumped away as if she’d been shocked.
Joseph laughed. A real, honest-to-goodness laugh.
Tickled by the sound, Ginger shook her head. “You must have had a good day at work.” She shoved her hands into the sink full of sudsy water and found a bowl to wash. Anything to keep her hands busy and work off all the nervous energy buzzing around like bees inside of her.
Instead of smiling again, Joseph scowled. “Not really.”
His instant drop back into his low mood dampened her buzzing bees. “Sorry to hear that.”
He moved around the island, as if he wanted to put something between them. Unaccustomed to being avoided, Ginger nevertheless recognized the symptoms. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand what she’d done to cause the change in his behavior.
Perhaps she’d overstayed her welcome. She quickly dried her hands, leaving a few dishes for Joseph to clean. She’d made dinner, after all; the least he could do was scrub a couple pots. “I’d better get going.”
“But …” Joseph started and then stopped, shrugging as if it didn’t matter.
Well, that’s a fine thank-you. Ginger shoved her arms into her coat. She recognized that she wasn’t as upset about the work—that had been her doing, since she invited herself over—as she was about the way she felt for Joseph and his obvious lack of return.
Layla skipped into the room. “Are you going?”
“It’s dark,” Joseph threw out, his gruffness grating against Ginger’s nerves.
“I assume that’s your way of saying you’re worried about me getting lost.” Ginger folded her arms.
“I …” Joseph turned to Layla for help.
“We aren’t supposed to go out alone after dark,” she supplied.
“You are absolutely right. You, and probably your uncle too, should never go out alone when it’s dark. But I have an unflappable GPS and never get lost.” Thank goodness for Santa’s sense of direction.
“Never?” Joseph scoffed.
“Never ever.” She reached for her purse. “I almost forgot. I have a gift for you.” She pulled out a hair kit, complete with a brush, ten no-tangle elastics, and several clips and bows.
Layla took it, her face a mixture of awe and excitement. “I love it.”
Ginger’s posture relaxed. “I hoped you would.”
“Where did you get that?” Joseph asked accusingly.
“A lady never reveals her shopping secrets.” Ginger gave him a frosty glare. After a hug from her new favorite pint-sized Alaskan, Ginger headed to her snowmobile. She hadn’t gotten ten steps from the front door when Joseph caught up to her.
“I wanted to make sure your machine started.”
“Why, so you can make sure I leave?”
“What? No.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I wanted to know where you got the hair clips. I’ve combed the town and haven’t found much for Layla for Christmas. She’s been through a lot, and I wanted to spoil her this year.”
Ginger sighed. She hated that he was right. Hated that Layla had been through hard times, and hated that Joseph had to be a good guy. Grrr, why can’t he just be a jerk so I can write him off? Twice today he’d stirred emotions and left her grasping for solid thoughts. Thoughts that didn’t include kissing this highly kissable man. “If you’ll get me a list of what you want, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Really? You’d help me?”
Ginger weighed her answer. “For Layla, I’d do just about anything.” Ginger climbed onto her snowmobile and pressed the start button. As expected, it fired right up.
Leaning close so he could be heard over the roar of the machine, Joseph’s breath brushed her ear, causing a delicious shiver to dance across her skin. “Seems we have something in common,” he said. “Be safe.”
With a light squeeze of her shoulder, he stepped back to allow her room to maneuver. The way he carried himself, shoulders back and yet relaxed, like he was strong and confident and able to sweep a woman off her feet—whoa!
Wishing she had the sleigh so she could fly, Ginger shoved her helmet on her head and tore out of the yard, spraying snow behind her. He had no right to make her feel this way—like she was floating and falling and twirling and twisting, and if she didn’t get her head on right, headed for the naughty list. Stella said that Ginger didn’t know what she was missing by being on the good list. There wasn’t much that could tempt Ginger to the wrong side of the list, but Joseph might just be the thing.
Intent on putting as much distance as possible between her and her temptation, Ginger took the shortest route back to the lake house, where she buried herself in work.
Chapter Fourteen
The next evening, Joseph flipped on the late radio show and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Layla snuggled in by his side with a book. Timber lay in front of the couch, snoring. The wood box was full for the night, and the dinner dishes had been scrubbed and put away. The scene was peaceful and quiet, and Joseph was a ball of nerves.
Ginger had wound him up like a jack-in-the-box, only he never jumped out of the box. He just sat there, with his gears full of tension, waiting for the release. Once again, she’d gotten close to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to be familiar with one another.
He couldn’t deny that walking through the front door to find her and Layla—all welcoming smiles—hadn’t done something to his heart, something irreparable. Or maybe coming home to Ginger had repaired something long broken, because he’d felt whole again.
And like a schmoe, he’d messed it up. Well, he didn’t trust the feeling entirely, and so he’d tested it, pushed her away to see if the feeling would stay. Only instead of making him feel better when she left, it only made him feel worse.
Layla planted her elbow in his side and adjusted her position. The sharp poke felt like a reprimand, as if she’d read his thoughts. If she could, she’d see that Ginger had taken center stage in his thoughts for the majority of the day.
Like this morning, when he’d set out to finish creating the bear cub out of his last stump, he’d let his mind wander and the carving had morphed into a ridiculous frosty snowman in a top hat. A product of having watched Layla and Ginger play in the snow, no doubt.
The radio static faded out and the three-chime welcome sounded. Turning up the volume, Joseph caught himself holding his breath.
After station identification, a weather report, the invitation to the construction party for the new Santa platform and background, and a few callins from people looking to trade a side of beef or a couple hundred pounds of salmon, Hank finally got down to the real business at hand.
“And for all of you single men out there, I thought you’d like to know that Steve Rob told me this afternoon that he asked Ginger out for Saturday night, but wouldn’t divulge his agenda. I guess after the crap Scooter’s gone through for using up Trudy’s roast beef dinner on a first date, he’s keeping his plans close to the homestead.”
Joseph nodded. Steve had more sense than Joseph would have given him credit for a week ago.
“After Steve is William Yazzie. William makes no bones about the fact that he’ll be pulling out all the stops. Remember, listeners, he’s a registered pilot with a nice little plane. Taking Ginger for a flight over Clearview could be pretty impressive.”
Joseph jerked forward, dropping his feet to the floor and smacking Timber. The dog barked awake and glared at Joseph. “Sorry.” He patted Timber’s head.
Dang! A date in a plane. That’s tough to beat for anyone.
“Are they talking about my Ginger?” asked Layla.
Joseph smiled at the way Layla had laid claim to the snowman builder and cookie maker extraordinaire. “Yep.”
Joseph smoothed her hair back. She’d done a wonderful job brushing out her hair and using one of the clips Ginger bought her. It was cute, blue and white stripes. But most of all, it made L
ayla smile with a confidence she hadn’t had before. How had Ginger known what to buy? Joseph hadn’t known Layla was self-conscious about her hair until he saw the more confident version emerge from the bathroom.
“Is she in trouble?”
Joseph chuckled. “I guess that depends on your point of view.”
“Huh?”
Not willing to explain the complexities of having a town full of men chasing after one woman—because he truly hoped he never had to deal with one man, let alone a whole town of them, chasing after his niece—he said, “There’s a lot of people who want to spend time with her.”
“Oh.” Her little face fell.
“What’s up?”
“Well, if everyone wants to be with her, she’ll be too busy to be with me.”
Joseph pondered this for a moment. Ginger could easily hang out in town and have dozens of offers to fish, snowmobile, ski, and many other activities, and yet she’d spent nearly the entire day making memories for a little girl. “I get the feeling that Ginger would rather be with you than anyone else.”
“Really?”
The question was a reminder that Ginger hadn’t stuck around once he came inside. In fact, she’d pulled out of there as if he’d chased her off with a pitchfork. Wilting inside like a poinsettia in mid-January, Joseph hugged Layla close. “Really, really. Ginger likes you.” A lot more than she likes me, apparently. Not sure why this bugged him so much, Joseph clicked off the radio and headed to the kitchen.
Not even one of Ginger’s chocolate cookies could make him smile. Although he wasn’t opposed to giving a second cookie the opportunity to make up for the first. Shutting the pantry, he chewed deliberately, letting the three flavors cascade over his taste buds.
Angry that he cared if Ginger liked him, or who she dated, or that she made the best stew he’d ever eaten; Joseph dropped the remaining half of the cookie on the counter and stormed back to the couch.
Ginger (Marrying Miss Kringle) Page 11
