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Christmas Duet: A Big City, Small Town Christmas Romance Bundle

Page 24

by Gina Robinson


  Ryan pulled her into the well free of snow beneath the tree. Into its sheltering protection out of the breeze.

  One minute she was staring into Ryan's eyes, and the next the world just suddenly stopped. The cold. The smell of fresh pines and forest. The deep blue sky peeking through the branches above. And Ryan's arms around her. The fire of desire was still pounding through her, her senses heightened by adrenaline and fresh air. And Ryan. It was nearly Christmas again and so much like when they were still in love. She was recalled to that time where being in his arms made her breath catch and her heart race. To that very first time he'd kissed her. In the forest. In this forest.

  Ryan's lips angled downward toward hers. Against all reason and logic, she tilted her head and went up on her toes until his mouth met her lightly parted lips.

  The first time he'd kissed her, he'd been a boy, tentative and gently awkward, though she'd sworn he was the best kisser ever and had sighed for weeks just remembering his lips on her. This Ryan was grown up and confident. He kissed her fiercely, his mouth hard and insistent on hers as he cupped her butt and pulled her hips into his. He danced her backward until he pressed her up against the rough bark of the pine and cupped her head so she couldn't escape his kiss.

  At that moment, escape was the last thing on her mind. She slid her arms around his neck and met his tongue with hers. Kissing Ryan, she hadn't forgotten what he liked and he hadn't forgotten what turned her on. He still knew exactly how to take her breath away. He bent his knees and pressed against his until she felt his desire pulsing through his jeans and hers.

  A breeze stirred the branches overhead, but they were safely cocooned beneath that big, old pine as Ryan slid his gloved hands beneath her coat, up her fleece pullover, and clasped her around her waist. If his touch, just glove to fleece, could make her burn, what would his bare hand on her skin do to her?

  As she reached to pull Ryan's glove off, she heard a whoosh, snow sliding off limbs. She opened her eyes and looked up as an avalanche from the limbs above crashed toward them. She struggled to pull away from Ryan's kiss and warn him. But he held his mouth firmly to hers as she watched in horror as a big, cold pile of the white stuff doused them.

  She and Ryan broke apart, sputtering, standing in a snow pile that covered the tops of their boots and slid down to their socks and over their collars. It covered their shoulders and hats and hair.

  Ryan blinked to get it out of his lashes as he wiped his eyes. "Now that's what I call a cold shower."

  Yeah, and Tara was coming back to her senses as she spit snow out of her mouth. "I never eat December snow. It's not ripe yet." She dusted Ryan's shoulders off, not looking him in the eye. "I always wait for January."

  As kids, they'd watched A Charlie Brown Christmas together every year. She was sure he got the reference.

  Stupid, stupid branches that couldn't hold their weight. She looked back at Ryan, who had pulled his hat off and was slapping it against his thighs to clear it of snow. Her heart caught again. They'd been so good together. And so terrible.

  Brought to her senses by a snow-covered pine. He looked up and caught her watching him. "What?"

  "You, covered in snow. I tried to warn you..." She started laughing. She couldn't help herself. The whole situation—Gram's matchmaking, throwing snowballs like kids, kissing Ryan like a horny teenager—was ridiculous.

  "You should see yourself." He dusted her shoulders and took a step into her. "Your lips are turning blue."

  No doubt they were. Her lips turned blue easily.

  He leaned down as if to kiss her again and warm up those icy lips of hers.

  She sidestepped out of the way, hating herself. But she was confused and didn't trust herself not to do something they both might later regret.

  Ryan frowned slightly, looking hurt. He covered it quickly and masked his expression. "You know I didn't throw a snowball at you, right?"

  She swallowed hard and tried to get the light mood back. "Did too."

  He shook his head. "Not to start with. That was just a smaller pine tree dumping on you."

  She nodded. He was right. He had to be. "Something about this forest doesn't like me."

  "Maybe because you're here to cut down one of its children," Ryan said.

  "Maybe. But only to make it a star of the Christmas season. Good intentions should count for something." As Tara pulled off her knit hat and dusted it off, she hoped he understood what she was saying.

  Ryan gave her shoulders a squeeze, then slid his gloved hands down her coat sleeves, pausing to hold her hand when he reached the end of her sleeves. "Yeah, I suppose."

  She couldn't look Ryan in the eye, so she looked past him, right at the most gorgeous, most perfect tree in the forest.

  "There it is, Ry! Look! Behind you. There's our tree. Get out your tape measure."

  Ryan frowned ever so slightly, an expression of determination crossing his face before he turned to look over his shoulder. "Looks like a contender. I'll grab the saw."

  At least they agreed on something.

  She made her way to the tree and watched while Ryan measured it.

  "Eleven feet, two inches." He recoiled the tape measure and turned to her for confirmation. "This is the one, then?"

  "Perfect! It's definitely the one." Tara stood by their tree, wondering what life would have been like if she'd stood by her man all those years ago.

  "Stand back." Ryan shook the snow from the tree and retrieved the saw from where he'd dropped it before their snowball fight.

  She smiled at him as he returned and held the saw out to her. "Want to do the honors?"

  She shook her head. "I think I've done enough cutting for a while."

  Which was certainly true. Besides, she knew what tree cutting involved. Crouching beneath a tree and working up a cold sweat with the handsaw. "You cut. I'll hold the tree up."

  She grabbed the tree trunk. Ryan went into a crouch, sawing with one hand and hanging onto the tree with the other. Such a show of confidence in her.

  And such a nice view of his very fine butt. She had to resist the urge to reach out and cup it. Yeah, what would Ryan think of that? That would put her on the naughty list for sure.

  She grinned, knowing what would help her avoid temptation. "Make sure you saw nice and straight. That's key."

  The tree stopped jiggling. Ryan had paused mid-slice. She pictured him rolling his eyes. He hated bossy advice.

  "Yeah, I didn't know that. Thanks for the tip." He started sawing again.

  That should keep him out of the mood. Oh, I'm bad, she thought, still watching his ass.

  Ten minutes of luscious booty viewing later, Ryan sliced through the tree. It took another five to drag it to the Bobcat, even with her help. Or, Ryan might have said, despite it. And another ten to lash it onto the Bobcat so it wouldn't fall off as they jounced on home.

  By the time they started back, they were both shivering and cold to the core. Ryan tucked the lap blanket around Tara again and cranked up the heat. Which did little more than melt the snow in Tara's hair and make her look like a wet dog. Or so she imagined.

  Neither of them spoke. What was there to say? That the kiss had been a mistake?

  That wasn't exactly true, but Tara couldn't see a way forward for them. They still had opposing views on what was best for each other and the lodge. And she still wasn't comfortable with Christmas and wouldn't be until she faced the mountain again.

  As Ryan negotiated the Bobcat along the cow path again, Tara decided the mood was still civil enough between them to bring up another sensitive topic. "I'd like to buy my snowboard from you."

  "What?" Ryan glanced at her. "Why?" He looked suspicious.

  She bit her lip. "I'm going to take up boarding again. At least give it a try while I'm here. And I hear—actually, saw with my own eyes—how well waxed and ready to go it is. I was hoping you'd give me a deal on it. In return, I promise to give it back to you if the boarding thing doesn't work out for me."


  Ryan frowned, obviously suspicious of her and wondering whether she was serious. "You're serious?"

  "I already bought a pass. Which means I need to go up on the mountain at least four times just to break even on my investment."

  He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the road. "I'd hate to lose my best demonstration board."

  "Come on, Ryan. That board deserves its chance on the slopes. Let me dirty it up for you so you can give it a real cleaning at the next workshop."

  She couldn't believe she was pleading with him. She had no idea why it was so important to her to have that board, the last Christmas present Ryan had ever bought for her. Even though she'd never actually received it. In some weird way, it felt like by taking it off his hands, she was making amends for past hurts.

  "Okay," he said after a long pause. "That sounds reasonable. On one condition."

  She dodged a branch and turned to stare at him. "Name it."

  "You let me take you up on the slopes the first time."

  Her mouth fell open at his audacity. Ryan kept staring at the road. She couldn't see his eyes and his face was a mask. What, exactly, was he asking? Was this a date? Or Ryan the ski patrol guy preventing a terror from taking to the slopes and endangering the lives of others?

  She inhaled so deeply her lungs burned in the cold air.

  He filled the silence and answered the question in her mind. "It's been a long time since you've been up on either the mountain, or a board. I have to be sure you'll be safe."

  "Riding a board must be like riding a bike. You never forget."

  "We'll see. My terms are non-negotiable. You want the board, you have to take a lesson from me."

  Yeah, but what kind of lesson? She twisted her mouth to the side. She could tell from the tone of his voice he was serious. "Okay. Deal. If the price is right."

  "Great. I'll make you an excellent deal—you can have the board for nothing." His tone didn't give his feelings away.

  "No, I'll pay you for it. It's the least I can do."

  He shook his head. "It's yours. It always was." His jaw was set. "Do you have boots and bindings?"

  She didn't argue with him. She could tell it was futile. And she'd hurt him enough already. "Yes. No. Maybe. I think my old gear is still in the attic."

  "You'll want new. New technology is much better than what we had ten years ago. I can help you with that. Digger runs the ski shop. He'll give you a deal. Anyway, I insist on checking your gear out before you go down the mountain."

  "That's two conditions," she said. "You only get one."

  "Safety isn't a condition. It's part of the first lesson."

  He had her there.

  He pulled the Bobcat onto the main road.

  "Okay, fine. Deal. What happens if I find a board I like better at the shop?"

  He shrugged. "That's up to you. I still get to take you out your first time back up on the slopes."

  9

  Back at the lodge, Ryan unloaded the tree from the Bobcat and put it in the workshop to dry out before he brought it into the lodge to decorate. He was still stunned from the magnitude of that kiss with Tara in the forest and the electric force of attraction that still sparked between them. He'd almost lost complete control. If not for that smart ass tree dumping a pile of snow on them...

  He frowned. Thanks a lot, Rick, buddy.

  Ryan had walked right into a trap and not even seen it coming. Until he'd parked the Bobcat and seen the view, he hadn't remembered that glen was the very place he'd first kissed Tara. How had Margie known? And his purported friend Rick was her conspirator. The woman was good.

  But what did Tara think—that Ryan had set her up? He'd been as duped as she'd been.

  Ryan put the tree in a bucket of water with a little sugar and headed into the lodge. Tara met him with a warm, dry pair of wool socks, and a steaming mug of hot coffee made just the way he liked it. He looked around, hamming it up as he mocked being perplexed. "Have I stepped into The Donna Reed Show?"

  She smiled. "Maybe. Echo Bay has always been behind the times."

  He held up the socks. "Did you knit these while I was out?"

  "They're Harry's," she said. "He offered. Come on, come sit by the fire and warm up."

  Oh, Ryan was warm. Way warmer than he should have been, in fact.

  He slipped off his boots and took a seat in the chair Tara led him to. She took his coat and gloves and laid them on the hearth to dry out as he changed his socks. Carter had made a magnificent blaze. Ryan was warming up already. His brain was heating up too. He was suspicious and wary, especially after Tara had shut him down in the glen. The woman ran hot and cold, as if she couldn't make up her mind how she felt.

  That kiss had made him realize, again, that much as he may have suppressed his desires, he wanted exactly two things in this life—Tara and the lodge. And since they went hand in hand, a package deal, he'd just have to convince Tara she should go hot—hot for him.

  When Ryan looked up from his thoughts, Tara was studying him. And she had a twinkle in her eyes. Where had that come from? And what was she up to? He should be grateful for small mercies. At least she wasn't quite looking at him as if he were the devil. But what was she thinking?

  She cleared her throat. "While you were out, I took a peek in the attic." She paused. "Just to see if there's anything up there we can use for the tree. Garlands or glass balls, that kind of thing." She bit her lip. "I know what I said earlier about not needing your help. But I was wrong."

  She glanced down at her feet before raising her eyes to look at him directly. "Those boxes look awfully heavy and unwieldy. I'm not sure little old me can handle them by myself. What I could really use is a big, strong man to help me. And with Harry being down in the back, he's in no shape." She looked up from beneath her lashes and smiled at Ryan.

  It was clear she was playing him, teasing him. But she looked so damned vulnerable.

  What was her game? He hesitated, mostly from shock. Most of those boxes were full of ornaments and practically as light as a cold, dry snow.

  "Look, Ry. I don't want to face them alone. You're the only one who really understands. I know it's an imposition. If you have plans—"

  "No plans. I'd be happy to help." Anything to be near her. Anything beat going back to his lonely cabin and trying to live down old memories.

  She smiled very slightly and visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Ryan. I mean it."

  He downed his coffee in almost a single gulp, scalding his tongue and nearly choking, but it was worth it. He didn't want Tara changing her mind or chickening out. "There's no time like the present." He stood. "After you."

  He followed Tara to the attic, watching her pretty little ass as she climbed the stairs in front of him. It gave him the same ideas he'd had in the forest. Ideas he shouldn't entertain. Not yet.

  Tara unlocked the door to the attic and climbed the stairs, stopping abruptly at the top on the edge of the room. He nearly collided with her, avoiding an accident only by putting his hands around her waist as he stopped. He leaned in and peered around her at the room he'd helped Harry organize earlier in the fall. Nothing scary there. Just shelves filled with neatly labeled boxes. Yet Tara seemed terrified.

  Ryan flicked on the light and studied the room. He knew exactly where the Christmas ornaments were. And her old snowboard gear. And anything else she wanted.

  Tara stalled, not making any move to enter the room.

  "You okay?" he asked. "Hey, Tara, no worries. No fears. The bats aren't here this time of year."

  Bats liked the attic. Tara had always been afraid of them.

  She bit her lip. "Thanks. But you know it's not the bats that have me freaked. It's all the ghosts of the past hidden away on shelves up here."

  He still had his hands firmly on her hips. She hadn't shaken them off and he liked them where they were. They felt like they belonged there. "Tell me where to start, Tara. You just stay here if you like, and I'll bring you whatever you ask for. You can sit on t
he steps and look at the contents."

  The roof of the attic sloped to a peak in the middle with a round paned window at the center, letting the low winter sun in. If one wasn't facing fears, it was actually a pretty, homey place.

  "Something innocuous. A box of Christmas balls, maybe?" Her voice trembled. "I want to see what we can use before we haul them all down three flights of stairs."

  "Sure." He moved around her and studied the shelves until he found a box labeled Christmas balls. He pulled it off the shelf. When he turned back to her, Tara was sitting on the top step, just as he'd suggested.

  He carried the box over and set it next to her.

  She stared at it. "I'm sure you realize why my parents are on a cruise this year for Christmas."

  The statement seemed to come out of nowhere.

  Ryan stared at her. Yeah, he knew. Of course he knew. But he didn't answer aloud.

  She kept her gaze fixed on the box. "With the ten-year anniversary..."

  She traced a pattern on the box with her finger. "You've probably noticed that neither them nor I have been able to face a Christmas here since.

  "Gram and Grandpa endure on, year after year, refusing to leave for the holidays. Saying Thanksgiving through Valentine's Day is a big, moneymaking time of year for them and they can't afford to leave.

  "So we've been at a standstill, or maybe a standoff, all this time." She paused and looked around the room. "I had so many happy Christmases here as a kid. So, so many. It was the best childhood ever.

  "Gram and Grandpa are getting older. They practically blackmailed me into coming and giving Christmas here one last try. For old time's sake.

  "They mean well. They want me to think of those Christmases with my brother with love and joy, instead of sorrow. I owe it to him. I know it's what he'd want. I'm hoping that maybe I can recapture some of that joy." She bit her lip, looked at the floor, and shook her head. "You probably think I'm a coward. But really, Ryan, I'm the bravest of my family. Not that that's saying much."

  He sat on the floor next to her, took her chin, and tipped her face up. "I don't think you're a coward at all."

 

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