In a blink, Blitz pulled to a stop in front of the doctor’s office. The “Come On In” sign was in the window. Ginger screwed up her courage to face the good doc once again. There shouldn’t be a repeat of last time, since Joseph was the one with the broken arm.
Joseph! Here she was fretting and Joseph needed help. As she assessed him, her heart did a double backflip with a twist, turning her cheeks a rosy pink. Stupid heart—get control.
He’s not my guy.
He’s not on the list.
And there are people—children, for the love of mint cocoa—who are counting on me.
Ginger bolted from the sled. She needed to put enough space between herself and Joseph that she could breathe again.
*
Joseph traced the holly pattern carved into the side of the sled. It was so well done, he expected to pick the berries. When he pulled himself away, Ginger was halfway to the door. He moved to lift himself out of the sleigh and got a sharp pain in his arm for his effort. Pretty sure he’d cracked a bone, Joseph silently berated himself for ever peeking through the blasted church window and seeing Ginger snuggled up next to William. He didn’t own the woman, and she was free to cuddle any man she chose. Except he wanted her to choose him.
“Are you coming?” Ginger called.
Joseph watched her for a moment, hating feeling weak and needy. “I could use a little help.”
“Oh! Of course.” Ginger hesitantly came around to his side of the sleigh and offered her hand. At least she had enough sense to grab her gloves before driving the sleigh. He’d never known anyone to forget their gloves in the middle of December.
Joseph took her hand with his good arm, his eyes never leaving hers. Ginger had a mystical quality about her that intrigued him, like a mysterious gift wrapped in shiny paper and placed under the tree. He could look right at her and not know exactly what was going on in that head of hers. Like now—she seemed worried with her eyebrows pulled together. Of course she was worried; he probably broke his arm. But she also looked … scared, as if she was afraid to get too close to him. And there was a spark of attraction in there too. He almost missed that tidbit, but upon finding it, his heart did a fist pump. The organ threw caution to the wind and beat overtime, telling him to make a move of some sort.
People were attracted to Ginger by some unseen force. After meeting her mother, Joseph believed it to be a force of nature. He wasn’t sure if he should give in to his desire to pull her close and sample her lips, or fight it with all his strength. At the moment, staring into her twinkling blue eyes, the battle inside tipped precariously towards kissing. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Ginger returned his gaze. The air around them grew warm and sizzled.
“Ginger?” he asked, his voice quieter than he’d planned.
“Yes?”
Joseph couldn’t remember what he was going to say. His eyes dropped to her lips. Grabbing the only thought that could possibly compete with the idea of kissing her, he said, “My arm hurts.”
“I know.” She continued to gaze back at him, looking as if she could float away at any moment. Perhaps she could. Perhaps if he gave in and kissed her, then he would float away too.
“I have to ask you something.” He stepped close enough for their coats to brush against each other and slid his good arm around her waist.
“Okay.” Her breath hitched.
“Do you taste like cookies?”
Her eyes closed as if she were searching for willpower. “Joseph Michael Bear, you can’t say things like that to me.”
“It’s a simple question.”
She stared at his scarf. “If only it were simple.”
“Can’t we make it simple?” Joseph prodded. He wanted to know everything about this woman who fit so perfectly against his chest, even with layers and layers of fabric between them. Ginger was good and kind and generous and spunky and daring and so much more. He could spend his life with her and find new things to love every day.
Love … now there was something to ponder.
Ginger stepped back, stepped away from his arms and his questions. Cold Alaskan air overwhelmed his senses. His sore arm seized with chill and he clamped his jaw shut to keep from crying out.
“Do you think you could walk?” she asked.
Feeling like a fool, Joseph nodded. He reached for her elbow and held on, the cold abating immediately just as he suspected it would.
Ginger bit her lip, staring at where he’d clasped her arm.
“Don’t let go,” he pleaded. “It hurts when you’re not close.” Which was much more of the truth than Joseph wanted to admit. Ever since Thanksgiving, thoughts of Ginger had never been far away.
Ginger’s gaze was everywhere but on him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. As if she understood that he cared more for her than he let on. That there was the possibility of something wonderful between them, but she was holding back. Was it William? Or Steve? Or maybe it was just him—maybe she didn’t want a reclusive woodcarver who had to be kidnapped to get him to help out in town.
Maybe Joseph didn’t want to be that guy anymore. He had Layla to think of, and her exuberance was breaking down his resistance. If Ginger joined the fray, he could become someone new—someone better.
The front door to the clinic opened and Janie waved. “Come on out of the cold, you two.”
Joseph moved forward carefully, working to avoid a slip. The last thing he needed right now was to fall—on the ice or in love.
Chapter Twenty
Ginger bundled Joseph into the sleigh just as her mom and Lux pulled up on their snowmobiles. Layla hopped off to give Joseph a hug. She was careful not to bump his injured arm. His fall had cost him a hairline fracture and an awkward fiberglass cast. The two Bears talked in hushed tones as he assured his niece that he felt much better.
“We’re all done up at the church,” Gail told Ginger. “Joseph, looks like you’ll be needing a little help tonight.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Joseph was anything but fine. His eyes were heavy with pain and exhaustion. He’d barely shuffled through the snow, holding on to Ginger’s hand as if it were a lifeline. After his comment about it hurting to be apart from her, Ginger was all too twitterpated over his touch.
His mouth said he didn’t need them around, but his eyes told another story. Ginger wasn’t about to let him push her away when she could help, and she was grateful to have her mom there to back her up. If her mom could talk an elf into taking a day off, she could talk Joseph into letting three Kringle women invade his home.
“Nonsense.” Gail repositioned Layla’s goggles on her face. “Lux and I will go on ahead and get the fires going. Layla, wanna ride with me or Ginger?”
Layla smiled at her uncle. “Can I ride with Gail?”
Joseph nodded and gave her a little shove towards the perky woman.
Maybe he was too tired to fight. Or maybe Layla’s hopeful expression won him over. Or maybe—and this was a huge maybe—he wanted to be alone with Ginger as much as she wanted time with him. She decided to use this time to prep him for his first meeting with the Kringles.
Once the machines pulled away and the sound of their engines faded, Ginger checked Joseph’s blankets once again. “I have to warn you about my mother …”
“I’m not worried.” Joseph traced the holly pattern on the sleigh. “I’ve seen this somewhere before, but I can’t remember where.” He frowned.
That particular design was one of her grandfather’s patented images. He kept that particular holly close to home. “Must be the drugs.” Ginger shrugged as she made her way around the sleigh.
“Yes, because ibuprofen really messes with a guy’s ability to think.”
“You don’t know—it could.”
This time, Ginger sat on the bench seat and took up the reins. She liked being near Joseph—when it was safe. Who was she kidding? She liked being near him when it wasn’t safe, when he wanted to kiss her, and her heart lifted.
But she couldn’t do that, because no matter what her heart said, she had to use her head too. Children across the world deserved a jolly old Saint Nick, and she was going to deliver one no matter the cost.
“Have you ever taken ibuprofen?” asked Joseph.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“You’re probably immune to pain—like you are to cold.” He slipped off her glove and laced his fingers through hers. Ginger did feel a change in temperature—an immediate increase in heat coursing through her body. Her heart skittered at his touch.
Except he wasn’t saying he appreciated the things that made her Ginger. He was appreciating the things that made her a Kringle. And there was a big difference. People all over the world love Santa. They loved him—or her, as the case would soon be—because she brought presents. Or because she loved everyone naughty and nice. They may have even loved the idea of Santa. But that didn’t mean they loved her. Hence the loneliness. She thought Joseph had seen past all that Santa stuff, but maybe he was like everyone else.
Feeling a burden she’d never intended to pick up, Ginger pulled her hand free and laced the reins through her fingers. The thick leather was no compensation for the sinewy goodness of Joseph’s hand.
*
Joseph and Ginger arrived at the Bear cabin to find the fires crackling, Timber’s tail wagging, and the house smelling like Christmas dinner.
Gail had commandeered the kitchen. Several pots bubbled and steamed while fresh bread baked in the oven. “Joseph, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you two would ever make it home.” She gave Ginger a pointed look.
“I took it slow for the sake of Joseph’s arm. Didn’t want to jostle him too much.”
“If you’d have flown—”
Ginger cut in, cutting her hand across her throat. “Across this snow? Not going to happen.”
Maybe ibuprofen did affect his thinking, because there was a deeper conversation going on here, and Joseph was missing it. Gail shook her wooden spoon at Ginger. “We still need to have a talk.”
“It will have to wait.” Ginger smiled at her mom while pushing Joseph towards the couch.
Joseph held on to some part of Ginger, her hand, her sleeve, her arm, until he was settled with a pillow under his cast and his feet on the coffee table.
Lux, Ginger’s quiet sister in an Incredible Hulk long-sleeved T-shirt, sat on the floor with Timber’s head in her lap, while Layla braided, twisted, and looped her hair into several different styles only to take it out again and start over. She’d somehow learned to braid while he was riding home. He didn’t know why he ever worried about Layla having a female influence in her life when she collected them like rocks from a mountain stream.
Lux turned out to be a master of all things with wires and wireless. She had reconfigured his TV/DVD/Satellite/sound system into an amazing home theater experience that converted Layla’s princess video into an evening at the movies. Although it was hard to tell what held her interest more, the movie or Lux.
Ginger and her mom worked in the kitchen, where cupboards creaked open and shut, drawers rattled, and good smells abounded. They didn’t have the talk Gail had promised, not in a small cabin where every corner was within earshot.
He wondered if Ginger was a skipping rock that would soon bound across the water and out of his life, or the kind that would sink in and stay a while. The lake house was a rental, and she hadn’t said how long she’d be in town. Her mom had arrived from … He rubbed his forehead. Had he even asked where she came from? He couldn’t remember.
On a side note, Lux smelled like peppermint cocoa. Not that he went around sniffing like a hound on the hunt. He’d only noticed when she’d passed him to take her seat on the floor. And he’d only attributed the scent to her because she was Ginger’s sister. Despite Lux’s almost antisocial behavior, Layla seemed to love her.
Gail gave her full attention back to Joseph. “I felt so bad that you didn’t get anything to eat today, I’ve cooked up a batch of corn chowder just for you along with some homemade rolls.”
Now that she mentioned food, his stomach cramped, begging for nourishment. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Do you think you can sit at the table?”
“Sure.” He stood up too fast and the room tilted.
Ginger was by his side in a moment, concern etching a line between her eyes.
“I’m fine,” he groused.
“Of course you are—you big tough mountain man.”
“I am, really.” His foot was full of pins and needles, so he ended up limping forward. That’s what he got for resting his feet on the coffee table.
“Sure. Sure.” She shuffled toward the table like a geriatric nurse.
He kept pace, doing his best not to lean. Relying on Ginger and her family was not a comfortable position for him. “You’re really infuriating, you know that?”
Ginger smiled. “People who are right usually are to people who are not right.”
“Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“I would never say that.”
“So I’m right.”
“I wouldn’t say that either.”
Her hair brushed against his cheek as she helped him into a chair. It was soft and silky and just … stunning. Like the holly leaves on the sled, he couldn’t help but reach out and touch it. Ginger paused, a soft smile on her lips.
“Infuriating,” he whispered.
“I’d be insulted, but that would be like admitting you are right,” she replied.
“We can’t have that, now, can we?” He smiled.
“Most definitely not.” Ginger retrieved a large bowl of chowder, two heavily buttered rolls, and a tall glass of milk. Placing the meal before him, she made eye contact for one sizzling moment before returning to the sink to wash dishes.
Joseph dug in with gusto, anxious to fill his empty stomach. He’d hoped to get a few minutes with Ginger—or at least one exceptional moment—but by the time his food was gone, so was his ability to keep his eyes open. “I don’t mean to be a poor host, but I think I’d better lay down.”
“Of course you should. I’ve changed the sheets on your bed and added a new comforter.” Gail got him out of the chair and walked him down the hall. He was grateful it was her, because he’d be tempted to ask Ginger to join him for a nap. Not that he had energy to do much more than sleep, but waking up with her near wouldn’t be all that bad.
Gail handed him a pair of new flannel pajamas and pointed to the bathroom. Joseph was able to change his pants, but decided he could sleep in his T-shirt. Taking off the sling would be awkward at best and painful at most.
When he came out, Gail had pulled the covers back and fluffed his pillow.
He stumbled over and climbed in, too tired to put up a fuss.
“I can’t remember the last time I was tucked into bed.” He wondered if he should be embarrassed to have this person he’d just met pulling the blankets up and situating his sore arm. Because Gail was matter-of-fact mixed with concerned care, like a well-practiced nurse or a … a mom. That was it. She was a mom, and she was sharing that gift with him. Yes, it was a gift. His own mother had been severely lacking in this area.
Gail’s motherly kindness broke through some of his reserves, or maybe it was the exhaustion, and he asked, “Shouldn’t a kid have memories of being tucked in?”
“Perhaps.” Her eyes took on a note of concern that hadn’t been there before. She adjusted the blanket. “Don’t you worry about Layla,” Gail continued. “We’re going to have a sleepover in the front room.”
“But where will you sleep?”
She waved him off. “I have some things in the sleigh. You just worry about getting some rest.”
Too tired to argue, Joseph nodded. Gail slipped from the room and shut the door quietly behind her.
Joseph’s bed faced a large picture window. Usually he shut the curtain at night, but he’d forgotten. As he stared out at the cloudless night, his thoughts turned to Ginger and
their almost kiss. Something held her back. Something she wasn’t willing to share with him just yet. He’d have to work on that, just as soon as he felt better.
Right as his eyes drifted shut, he heard the jingle of bells, and a shadow the shape of a reindeer and sleigh flew across his bed in the moonlight. “Goodnight, Ginger,” he muttered.
*
Long after Lux had flown home to check on her computers and equations and tracking devices—Ginger didn’t even want to know what the tracking devices were for—and Layla fell asleep in a giant beanbag in the middle of the front room, Ginger stared into the fire.
“That’s a heavy frown for Santa to wear.” Gail handed her a cup of almond-flavored hot chocolate, her favorite. Sitting next to her on the couch and tucking her feet up, Gail took a sip of her own drink. “What’s going on, sugarplum?”
Wrapped in the stillness of the night, the hour of confession had come. “Mom, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be Santa.” With the words came a flood of tears. She leaned her head against her mom’s shoulder and let them fall.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve made such a mess of things.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Today was supposed to be about building the backdrop and I messed up the food—big time. And Joseph got hurt. And that was just today! Last week I mangled my attempt to flirt with Patrick Greggory Scott and transformed a potential suitor into my best friend. Let’s not even discuss the fact that I should be knee deep into a happy-ever-after romance, and the only guy I can find with zap hates Christmas.” She swiped her runny nose. “I mean, look at this place—not a decoration in sight. I’m letting everyone down.”
“Zap?”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “That’s what you got from my tirade?” She sniffed again. “Your priorities are seriously messed up.” Ginger chuckled to show she was kidding.
Ginger (Marrying Miss Kringle) Page 15
