"I'm gonna win the ugly sweater competition this year." She nodded and leaned in toward Ryan. "This is only my second ugliest sweater. You should see the one I'm wearing to the plant on Christmas Eve. I'm taking the prize, I'm telling you."
Ryan studied Carla's sweater again. "If you've got a sweater more tacky and hideous than that one, I believe you."
Carla laughed. "Hey, boss," she said. "What, may I ask, are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hitting the powder at the Basin today, getting ready for the Santa Ski? Bob said wild horses wouldn't keep you off the mountain on a Saturday, especially not a Saturday when the powder is perfect."
"The ski report said they got eight inches of fresh powder overnight," another woman chimed in. "My son took off at dawn to hit the slopes."
Ryan looked the tiniest bit sheepish again. "Don't worry. I'm ready for the Santa Ski. Count on it." He cleared his throat. "I'm going boarding tomorrow. Today I'm helping a friend get her tree ready." He flicked a glance at Tara, and what seemed like dozens of pairs of scrutinizing eyes turned her way.
Brows arched. Smiles formed. And scrutiny began. Good thing she was having a good hair day beneath her cute hat.
Ryan waved Tara to come stand next to him.
"Hey, wait! Is that Tara?" one of the women said. "Good to see you! I almost didn't recognize you in your winter gear. Seems like we only see you in the spring and summer."
Tara recognized her as a friend of Gram's. "It is indeed. So good to see you, too."
The other ladies called out greetings, introduced her to those she didn't know, and asked after her grandparents and Echo Bay Resort, making her feel right at home.
As for Ryan, he seemed to know everyone. Oh, this really was going to make life difficult for him. Shopping at the ornament factory outlet when he should have been on the slopes? When wild snowmobiles usually couldn't drag him down?
Ryan must have loved her grandparents very much to give up his precious Saturday to help them get their tree. Tara was touched again by his kindness toward them and her.
"So, what ornament are we looking for today?" Ryan asked the group at large. "What's the prize?"
"I've been looking for the great white wolf ornament since they opened for the season," Carla said. "They only put out a few each morning. And I swear they mix them into the bins and hide them just to make things interesting."
"Good marketing ploy," Ryan said. "Scarcity does drive up demand."
One of the women studied Tara as the others talked, looking as if she was trying to place her. "Wait! Now I remember—you came by the factory a few days ago to see Ryan." She glanced at Ryan and smiled, implying there was something going on between Tara and Ryan.
Fortunately, the doors to the shop opened at that very minute, sparing Tara from further scrutiny and having to answer any unwanted questions. So Ryan's protests hadn't been all bluff and tease.
He leaned into Tara and whispered in her ear. "Want to place any bets on whether they've already alerted my mom to this little outing?"
His mom had once been one of Tara's biggest fans. She'd been ready to welcome Tara with open arms into the family. Now, Tara guessed she was probably pretty much on the top of his mom's naughty list, permanently. For breaking Ryan's heart, shattering his dreams, and even to this present day being the obstacle to Ryan taking over the lodge.
"Oh, come on," Tara said. "I'm sure your mom knows I'm in town. How is she these days?"
"She's great. And, yeah, she knows you're here for the holidays. But not that we've had any contact other than the incident at the salad dressing plant. She thinks we're at war."
"Won't she be glad the lion's laid down with the lamb, then?" Even as Tara spoke she realized her poor choice of words and that she was being deliberately obtuse. His mom would not be happy about Ryan being out with Tara. She didn't trust Tara anymore. And who could blame her?
Ryan arched a brow in skepticism.
"Just tell her this is part of your diabolical plan to win the lodge," she said with a tease in her voice. "You have to be nice to me to get to Harry and Margie. I'm sure she'll understand."
Ryan laughed. "You're an evil woman."
She grinned back.
Thoughts of Ryan's unhappy mother quickly fled as the crowd surged forward and Tara found herself inside the factory outlet, facing Christmas in all its gorgeous finery right in the face.
Tara had been to some fabulous Christmas displays, some wonderful Christmas stores, and some terrific Christmas bazaars, but she'd never seen anything like this.
Every square inch of the store was decorated for Christmas and covered in ornaments. Themed Christmas trees stood in the corners, covered so heavily in hand-blown silver-lined glass, heavily glittered old-world-style ornaments and lights that the branches were barely visible. Wreaths ran the lengths of each wall and were similarly decked out.
Green and white divided cardboard ornament boxes in all sizes were stacked against the walls. And in the middle of the room, bins and bins and bins of the delicate ornaments, haphazardly thrown together, ran in aisles. Repeat customers who were familiar with the shopping process grabbed boxes and began digging through the bins.
In retail stores these ornaments were carefully hung on trees or sold in individual boxes, packaged carefully with tissue. Signs warned customers of the fragility of the decorations. Here there was none of the reverence as the throngs attacked the bins.
Tara's mouth fell open at the sight.
A clerk saw Tara staring and laughed. "First-timer, huh?"
Tara nodded with Ryan behind her. He was also watching the scene in amazement.
"Sure they can break," the clerk said. "But they're not as delicate as they look. The ornaments in the bins are four dollars apiece. The small ornaments in those few bins over there are two apiece. The specially boxed ornaments are priced as marked.
"Most of the ornaments in bins are perfect. Just overstocks or discontinued items. Some have slight flaws. A few do get broken, so examine your finds carefully before buying. We have a no-refund policy. If you see something you like on one of the trees, feel free to grab it. Every ornament in here is for sale." She grabbed two boxes and handed one each to Tara and Ryan. "Better get to it before all the good ones are gone." She leaned toward them and whispered something to Ryan before she winked and walked away.
Tara stared into her box with its cardboard dividers stuffed with tiny puffs of tissue paper to protect the ornaments once they were boxed. Why suddenly treat them like glass? The whole experience was horribly incongruous.
Ryan's eyes were wide as he scanned the store. "What are we looking for? Do we have a theme for the tree or does anything go?"
Tara had never seen so many old-fashioned ornaments in one place before. However she'd pictured the ornament store, it hadn't been like this. There was an infinite variety of figures available.
She rolled her eyes at Ryan and looked around the room for inspiration. "Anything goes? What kind of talk is that? That's craziness.
"The lodge is all homey woodsy-ness. Our mission today is to collect glittery pinecones in all colors, snowflakes, birds, animals, and fish," she said, trying to take it all in.
Ryan stepped over to the bin nearest them and pulled out a bright purple and orange tropical fish. "Like this?" His eyes twinkled.
She shook her head. "No! Like trout and fish we have here. The kind Grandpa is always on the hunt for. No tropical fish or exotic animals. Only Northwesty wildlife. Now get serious. We have a lot of work to do."
Ryan put the fish back in the bin and saluted. "Okay, so do we work as a team or is it divide and conquer, every man for himself?"
Tara scanned the room. "I say we divide and conquer or we'll never get out of here. Just stick to the mission statement."
Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Ryan was off. Tara scanned the room again with almost childlike glee. So this is what it's really like to be a kid in a candy store?
She fought the crowd to th
e far row and bins and dug in. At first, she delicately picked up one ornament at a time and carefully considered it. But before long she became a jaded pro like the rest of the shoppers. She dove into the bins, sticking her arms in and gently pawing through, digging to the bottom, and bringing the stock on the bottom up to the top.
Deep down she wanted an elusive white wolf. Wouldn't that be the crowning glory for her tree? She'd always liked wolves. Well, except for meeting them alone in the woods. And as she dug through the bins, she was determined to find one.
She quickly filled her box with all manner of pinecones, snowflakes, and animals. But she'd scoured every inch of the shop. No white wolf. She grabbed another box and filled it just as quickly.
"Found one!" A woman at the bin next to her grinned from ear to ear as she held up a prized white wolf.
Curses, foiled again.
Someone applauded the find and everyone went back to their shopping and treasure hunting.
Once Tara looked up and spotted Ryan carefully holding up and inspecting a brown bear with a trout in its mouth. Something about the sight of him so seriously studying the ornaments made her smile. He caught her looking and grinned at her.
She refused to be embarrassed and winked back at him.
Tara filled two boxes, then three, four, and more as she quickly lost track of time. There were so many ornaments it was easy to fill the boxes. Too easy. But too hard on her wallet. And it was only with the greatest of will that she resisted the many temptations not on her list.
In almost every bin she looked through, the most adorable gingerbread boy and girl looked up at her, begging her to take them home. The gingerbread girl wore a bright red Santa jacket with sparkling white fur collar, and had zigzag frosting on her skirt. The boy wore a Santa hat and had shiny holly berry buttons.
She and the boys—Ryan and Chad—used to decorate gingerbread people together every year with Gram at the lodge while Grandpa carefully constructed their gingerbread house. Tara always carefully decorated hers, while the boys piled theirs high with as much frosting and candy as they could. Happy memories.
Tara held the gingerbread couple up and watched them glitter and sparkle in the light. As much as I love you, you two are just too common. Where would I put you?
She reluctantly set the gingerbreads back into the bin. She had way too many ornaments already.
"Hey, how's it going?"
She looked up to see Ryan smiling at her as he held a box of bird ornaments.
"I think Margie will like these." He held his box out to her. "What do you think?"
She peered into the box. "Gram will be thrilled. She loves birds." She made a funny pout. "No luck finding a white wolf, either?"
"Not yet." Glitter sparkled in Ryan's hair and eyelashes, and on his cheeks. It rested on his shoulders and ran down the sleeves of his coat.
Tara laughed at the sight of the glittery Ryan. "You should see yourself. You look like you were in an explosion in a glitter factory." She reached up and tried to brush the glitter out of his hair. But she only succeeded in adding more sparkle to him.
"Well, you look like you overdid it with the holiday glitter hairspray and the glitter powder and lotion. You are simply sparkling all over." He dusted her shoulder, grinning as he wiped glitter from his hands all over her coat.
"Hey, stop that." She pushed his hand away and patted his cheek playfully, leaving a handprint of glitter in her wake. "You're just trying to add more glitter to me."
He grabbed her hand. "Ditto to you, baby."
He was staring into her eyes. She was staring into his. For a moment she forgot herself and where they were, and it was only the two of them.
He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and leaned into her. "You have glitter in your eyelashes." His gaze traced her face and came to rest on her lips. "And in your lipgloss."
The moment was mercifully shattered by a pushy lady. "Hey, get out of the way. Do your kissing elsewhere."
Kissing?
Yes, well, Tara supposed they had been on the verge. That seemed to be happening a lot today. And she couldn't even blame it on mistletoe.
"Sorry," Ryan said to the lady as they stepped back out of her way. He gave Tara an eye-roll and a conspiratorial look that made her grin.
Ryan changed the topic. "I've filled five boxes." He pointed to a stack on the counter. "How about you?"
"Eight."
"Do you think that's enough?"
"I think that's probably all I can afford."
"All right, then," Ryan said. "Let's check out."
11
Ryan and Tara rode back to the lodge with Christmas music blaring. Tara had always loved hearing him sing. He had a nice, melodic singing voice. Tara's sucked. But they sang along as they rode home, and laughed over their experiences with Digger and Old European. It felt so good to laugh with Ryan again. She hadn't remembered missing all this so much.
"How upset will Laura be about you hanging out with me?" Tara couldn't help herself. The question popped out between Christmas carols. "Will she advise Santa to put coal in your stocking?"
Ryan kept his eyes on the road and shrugged. "Mom has never hated you."
Tara stared at him and shook her head. "Right."
"Seriously. Disparaged you. Been disappointed with you. Not liked you. But hated you? Never."
She smiled at him. "You sure know how to make a girl feel better."
He turned past the Echo Bay population sign and into the lodge parking lot just as more flakes of snow began falling. "The question is," he said as they hopped out of the car, "whether we need a hand-truck to haul all this loot in or not."
Boxes filled both the trunk and the backseat. Tara stared at them. "I'd say we need a sleigh. Grandpa keeps a sled in the shed."
"And a hand-truck. That'll do."
This time as they walked together into the lodge, Tara had an insane desire to actually pause and beg a kiss beneath the mistletoe. Was it her imagination or did Ryan eye it, too, as they walked by?
It was just after three-thirty in the afternoon. Dusk was falling outside. Inside was quiet—between dinner rushes and most of the guests still being on the mountain.
Gram was in the kitchen. She spied them from the pass-through window. "Ah, there you kids are! How was town?"
"Fine," Tara said. "I brought you and Grandpa back an early Christmas present. They're in the car. What smells so good in here?"
Kathleen popped out of the kitchen with a dishtowel in hand. "Our new secret recipe for the cookbook. Anyone want to try a bite?"
Oh, no! Tara thought.
"I'm game." Ryan rubbed his hands together as he headed for the kitchen.
For some reason, thoughts of the cookbook still irritated Tara, reminding her of the stakes at hand. She put a hand on Ryan to stop his forward progress. "Wait a minute, big boy. We can't keep that glass outside in freezing temperatures."
"You're right," he said. "Where does Harry keep the hand truck?"
Ryan not only brought in the ornaments, he hauled the tree in from the workshop, too. Tara had a very fine view of his butt and strong legs as he maneuvered beneath the tree, getting it braced and aligned within the stand while she called out directions.
"It's leaning to the left. A little to the right," she said.
Gram and Kathleen were still exclaiming over the ornaments, going through box after box. Gram held her hands in front of her in that position that meant she was pleased. Harry seemed to be at a loss for words, but he was smiling.
"This is wonderful, just wonderful," Gram said, picking up a bluebird and smiling. "Best Christmas present ever." Her gaze kept bouncing between Ryan beneath the tree and Tara.
Tara got the distinct feeling Gram had the wrong impression.
"We'll have a decorating party tonight," Margie said. "Invite all the staff and guests who want to participate. We'll serve hot chocolate and spiced eggnog." She turned to Harry. "You can make your famous Tom and Jerrys." S
he clasped her hands in front of her again. "Tara, you remember how we used to roast hotdogs in the fireplace when you were little?"
"We'll get Carter to make a big blaze. I really am fond of a good blaze. And we'll roast marshmallows and hotdogs."
Ryan wiggled out from beneath the tree and stood. "I think that does it." He stood back to admire his work.
"You'll stay, of course," Margie said to Ryan.
Looking uncomfortable, he shot a quick glance at Tara and then focused his attention on Margie. "Thanks for the invitation, but I have to pass. I have to stop by home and feed Blondie, give her a little love and attention. And then I'm off to have dinner with my parents." He glanced at the clock. "In fact, I have to get moving or I'll be late and Mom will kill me. You know how she prizes punctuality."
Tara couldn't believe how incredibly disappointed she felt that he couldn't stay.
Laura and Kirk Sanders lived in the same modest bungalow cottage on the outskirts of town that they'd raised their four boys in. It may have been modest in size, but it was filled with love. And these days, it would have gone for nearly half a million on the open market, though they'd only paid sixty thousand for it in the first place. Moneyed people from outside were always looking for little houses to buy up and use as ski cabins, running up the prices and the taxes for the locals.
Strings of red and white Christmas lights ran along the roof lines and around the big evergreen tree in the front yard, and the old light-up Santa sat at the bottom of the front porch steps just as he had throughout Ryan's childhood.
It was homey and inviting and Ryan wished he could run the other way before his parents spotted him. His mother was going to give him hell. He was fifteen minutes late and even though he'd called, she was not going to be happy with the source of his lateness.
Man up.
"Hey, Ma, I'm home!" he called as he walked through the front door.
Laura came out of the kitchen wearing a holiday oven mitt and matching apron. "And about time, too. The prodigal son returns." Her gaze ran the length of him. "Looks like you still have your heart. At least it's not obviously ripped out of your chest."
Christmas Duet: A Big City, Small Town Christmas Romance Bundle Page 26
