Tara hadn't been happy with Gram at all that night. Now, however, she gladly accepted Gram's help, cautiously optimistic as she wondered what Gram knew that she didn't. Or was Gram merely being hopeful?
Tara held the box out to Laurel. "What would you rather be—the elf or the reindeer?"
"I think the elf is definitely you."
Yeah, the elf on the shelf, Tara thought. Watching love and life go by.
Laurel picked the reindeer headband out of the box. "I've always been more of a reindeer girl. Does this come with a red nose?"
20
The Santa Ski was a huge success, at least if the size of the crowds was any indication. Fate had conspired to make the evening perfect for the event—clear skies, stars sparkling, full moon, perfect powder, dramatic temperatures, no breeze. Skiers and boarders dressed in holiday gear, wearing glo necklaces and flashing battery-operated LED lights, tacky Christmas sweaters over ski coats, reindeer ears over their helmets, all manner of whacky Christmas outfits packed the slopes. Some men even wore "beardskis"—ski masks with long fake beards attached, Santa white being the most prevalent.
Ryan had opted to go beardless. He looked tacky enough with a red Santa coat on over his ski coat, and a ski patrol vest over that. Unfortunately, this was the regulation ski patrol outfit today and tomorrow. He felt more like the Grinch than Santa. If there had been a way to stop Christmas from coming, or even a way to simply avoid it, Ryan would have latched onto it.
Ryan had hoped the joy in the air and the perfect powder would distract him from his loneliness and thoughts of what might have been. He'd planned to break the Christmas curse and end the evening an engaged man. Now he was just another lonely guy on the slopes all too aware of the coupledom around him. Couples, couples everywhere. Young couples. Old couples. Couples with kids. Couples without. Every stag had a doe. Everyone but him.
And so, with flashing lights on his helmet, he played cop and sidelined revelers who'd imbibed one too many holiday spirits. He helped a few celebrators to the first-aid station, nothing serious so far, and tried to mend his own broken heart as the Ghost of Christmas Future haunted him—a future without Tara. Unless a miracle occurred. Or maybe unless he got up the balls to try again. Or maybe he'd spent too much time trying already and should give up.
He looked up at the stars sparkling in the skies. He needed a sign, a Christmas sign.
The parking lots were packed and cars lined the road for what seemed like halfway down the mountain.
"I've never seen it so busy," Laurel said. "And that's saying something. Looks like the Santa Ski will be here to stay. And look at the village." She pointed out the window. "It looks like a Bavarian Christmas village. They've done a great job." She smiled at Tara. "Thanks for bringing me up here."
"Don't thank me," Tara said wryly. "It's all for Gram's pie." She laughed, but she was nervous. "Was it just me, or did you notice that Gram and your mom were eager to get us up here?"
"Yeah," Laurel said. "I had that distinct impression, too. What do you think they're up to?"
"I wish I knew," Tara said. Or maybe she didn't. "Last time Gram acted suspicious, she was playing matchmaker between Ryan and me. Somehow I don't think Gram has changed MOs. I wonder who the new victim is?"
Laurel laughed. "Could be the same old victim." She wiggled her eyebrows.
"Shut up." But Tara was way too hopeful it was.
"Whoever it is, she thinks they go for garish girls. Look at the way she tricked us out." Laurel held up her LED Christmas-light necklace.
"Yeah, I'm not sure we're exactly Christmas candy," Tara said as a group of skiers walked in front of the car. "But look at them. We do fit in." She laughed. "In fact, maybe Gram's right. We're pretty smoking in our tacky finery."
"You are. I'm roly-poly, a right jolly pregnant reindeer."
"Oh, I don't know. Now when people say you're glowing, you literally are. Especially if you put on that flashing Rudolph nose Digger gave me."
"Gee, thanks. Glowing is always the way I've wanted to be described." Laurel gasped. "Baby kick."
"Cute. Baby's excited to be here, too. See? We made the right choice to come." Tara hoped. "Your baby daddy will think you're hot, I'm sure."
Laurel's phone buzzed. "I am hot. Constantly. All that extra blood in my system. But at least it's winter." Laurel looked at her text. "Donny's waiting for me in the lodge. He talked his way into getting off his shift early."
"Isn't that sweet. Mom and Gram were right—he really does want you up here with him." Tara scanned the road ahead and wasn't optimistic about finding parking. "I'm going to try the lots," Tara said to Laurel. "But first I'll drop you and the pie off at the lodge."
"No way! I can walk. Exercise is good for pregnant women."
"But slipping on the snow and ice and falling face first into a pie isn't. I'm dropping you off. I'll feel a lot more confident that both you and the pie will make it to the party in one piece that way. And I don't need to get on the outs with Donny for not taking care of you. Besides, I don't want to have to carry the pie all that way, either."
Tara inched the car through the streets, finally arriving at a drop-off spot in front of the main ski lodge. "I'm going to make a few runs first." Tara swallowed a lump. "In memory of Chad."
Laurel squeezed her arm in support. "You going to be okay?"
"I'll be great. I'll join you at the party later," she said as she helped Laurel out and handed her the pie. "Save me a seat."
"You got it."
As Laurel stepped out of the car, Donny came out of the ski lodge, wearing a great big grin. He'd obviously been watching for them. He pulled Laurel into a bear hug and a passionate kiss. Laurel hadn't even needed a sprig of mistletoe behind her fake ear.
When the kiss ended, Donny waved at Tara through the open car door. "Hey, Tara, merry Christmas. Thanks for bringing my girl."
"You're welcome. Now help her with the pie and get in to that party and have some fun," Tara said and laughed.
"Aye, aye." He grabbed the pie, slammed the car door, and put his arm around Laurel as he walked her into the ski lodge. Tara smiled after them, thinking how nice it would be to be part of a couple.
Without the benefit of Ryan's ski patrol pass, Tara was lucky to find a spot in the far end of the farthest lot from the ski lodge. She grabbed her gear, put on her elf hat, and headed for the lifts and the very run where Chad had died. She was going to board down that run and enjoy it for his sake and her own.
Speaking of Ryan's ski patrol parking pass, Tara couldn't help herself. She had to make sure he hadn't already left. She swung by the special lot and looked for his car, letting out a sigh of relief when she spotted it. Now she had a dilemma. How did she make sure he didn't leave while she was up on the run? If only she had a wheel lock on her. Short of that, she could lean against his car and wait for him. It was an awfully cold night for that. Or she could trust. Waiting at the car for him almost won. She was that desperate to make sure he got her card.
But looking like a stalker in the lot and developing hypothermia weren't as enticing as the slopes. Instead, she resorted to childish superstitions and wished on a Christmas star as she headed for the lifts.
As she waited her turn for the chair lift, Tara looked up the slopes at the colorful, flashing, crazy, happy skiers and boarders. It was an awesome, joyous sight to behold. Even if this was all the better the night got, she owed Gram a big one for making Tara come to this party.
The ride up the lift was the most beautiful one Tara could remember. The forest below was pure white winter wonderland. The moon lit the surrounding mountains and hills and the lake below glowed silver and spectacular. As Tara stared at the moon, she imagined the silhouette of Santa's sleigh sliding across it. And the stars twinkled so brightly it was easy to picture the Wise Men following one of them.
At the top, she got off the chair lift and boarded to the top of the crowded run.
Ryan was ready to call it quits and head to
his parents' house to lick his wounds in private. One final run down the mountain, down the run where Chad had died in honor of his friend, as he did every Christmas Eve, and he was out of here. No Christmas party and Santa Claus for him this year.
He was almost to the top of the run when his heart stopped. There was Tara, standing at the top of the run on her bright polka-dot snowboard looking like every vision of a Christmas sugar plum he'd ever had—sweet, tasty, and gorgeous in her green elf hat beanie, goggles on her head as she admired the view.
It was stupid. He was foolhardy, but he couldn't help himself. He rushed to her side before she could snowboard away, out of his grasp. "Tara?"
His heart hammered in his ears. His pulse raced. And then she turned to face him.
As recognition dawned, her eyes lit up and she smiled at him as if she was genuinely overjoyed to see him. "Ryan?"
"What are you doing here?" They asked each other in unison and laughed.
Ryan stared at her, willing himself not to blow what might be his final chance to talk to her in person before she left.
"I'm facing my fears," she said, nodding toward the slope. "And making happy memories. For Chad."
He nodded. "I do this run every year on Christmas Eve for him, too."
Her eyes misted.
He'd said the wrong thing.
He took a step closer to her, standing so close it was tempting to hold her in his arms. "I'm sorry."
She looked up into his eyes. "Don't be sorry. That's sweet. That's nice of you. He'd love that you do." Her voice broke.
"Yeah." Ryan cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them under control and stop himself from making a pass at her that she wouldn't appreciate. He ached to touch her, and that fake mistletoe behind her felt ear was practically begging him to kiss her. He had to extricate himself from this mess. "I'm heading down. And heading out."
"What?" She looked alarmed. "You aren't staying for the party? When did you become an old man? Have you forgotten how to have fun?" She paused and lightly touched his arm, imploring him. "You can't leave until you've seen Santa. Who knows? Maybe you'll win a present."
Was it his imagination or was she hinting at something? It was too easy to get his hopes up. "I'm not lucky. I never win."
"Maybe you'll get lucky this time." She set her jaw, giving him her determined look.
He laughed. "Careful what you say."
She surprised him by simply smiling back at him. "I'm perfectly serious, Ryan. You can't leave. What do you have to rush home for?"
What was she telling him? What reason did he have to stay?
"Harry said you have something to tell me? Something you wanted to say in person?"
"I do," she said. "But not here." She flashed him a crooked smile. "See you at the bottom of the hill. I'll tell you in the lodge over a drink. I'll buy."
His heart raced so quickly, he was quickly becoming breathless. Tara had always had the power to take his breath away. He hoped she wasn't stringing him along again. Before he could answer, she pushed off.
He pushed off after her.
Snowboarding was like flying. Tara let herself go and simply enjoyed the feel of the board beneath her feet, of cutting down the mountain in the fresh, cold air. Of breathing and feeling alive and really and truly hopeful again.
Ryan caught up to her. He'd always been the faster snowboarder. Once he came even with her, he stayed beside her as they cut their way down the mountain. Tara embraced the joy that bubbled inside her. She felt young again and free from all the pain of the past.
She hoped she wouldn't have to hang onto these few minutes in her memory forever. She prayed they wouldn't be the last, that she and Ryan would have years and years more of them together.
At the bottom of the hill, she braked in front of Ryan, nearly cutting him off on purpose just to rattle him. As she laughed, he wobbled and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms to steady himself.
As if a miracle had occurred, he was wrapped around her, breathing hard. Their eyes met. Their lips inched closer. "Ryan, I'm—"
"Ryan!" Someone slapped him on the back.
Ryan pulled away.
"Grab your girl and get inside. Santa's already handing out presents."
"Yeah, yeah, we'll be there in a minute." Ryan ignored his buddy and turned back to her.
She pulled away from him. Ryan looked confused.
"He's right," she said, trying not to let her eagerness show. "We can't miss Santa. What if you win?" She stepped off her board, grabbed Ryan's hand, and pulled him toward the lodge with one hand, her snowboard in the other.
"Whoa! Let me get my gear off. My car's just over there. We can stash our boards in it."
"Hurry." She pulled him along. "Who knows? I might win something, too."
She was impatient as they put their gear in Ryan's car. As soon as he closed the car door, she pulled him into the warmth of the lodge, dragging him to the front of the room right beneath the stage.
"Do we need to be so close?" he asked.
"I think we do." She pulled off her elf hat and shook out her hair as she caught Jim Dickson's eye and signaled him to pull Ryan's card from his pack.
The Christmas giveaway was a raffle. Santa's helper pulled a raffle ticket from a bin and called out the winner. The winner generally screamed with joy, jumped up and down, and ran for the stage, where Santa pulled the prize from the bag and handed it to them.
Ryan had been watching the action as Tara pulled him toward the stage. In that brief time, two winners had been announced. Tara had dragged him to the party in the nick of time. Santa's bag was already looking deflated.
As Ryan stood next to Tara, wishing he could talk to her over a drink and waiting for the minute the raffle ended, Jim as Santa interrupted the general giveaway process.
"Wait!" Santa held up a hand to stop his helper. "Hold on, head elf. What's this? I have a present here that has a name on it."
For a minute, Ryan's heart stopped dead in his chest. No, please, Jim. No. Not Tara's ring.
"How did this get in here?" Jim Dickson, who did a convincingly jolly Santa as he pulled a red envelope from his bag.
Ryan relaxed. He was off the hook.
Santa adjusted his glasses. "Who's the lucky person?" He peered at the envelope and squinted for effect. "Well, well, well, one of our fine ski patrol members. Ryan Sanders, come on up. This has your name on it."
Ryan froze and frowned, puzzled.
Tara gave him a push. "Go on. Get up there." She leaned in and whispered. "I told you you'd win something."
"If it has my name on it, this is a rigged win."
Tara seemed way too eager for him to go on stage and trying to act too casual about it.
"Ryan, I see you there right in the front row," Santa said. "We don't have all night." Santa handed the envelope to his helper, who handed it down to Ryan.
His name was written neatly on the envelope in Tara's small, feminine printing. Ryan would recognize it anywhere. His heart pounded and his hand trembled as he took it from the elf.
Ryan looked at Tara.
"I told you I had something to say. Open it." Her eyes were shining.
Santa and the raffle had moved on. Ryan felt frozen in time as he turned the envelope over and saw SWAK written in Tara's hand. He arched a brow. "SWAK? Really?"
"Really," she said, softly. "You used to like it."
Heart hammering, he slid his finger under the flap and pulled out the card and read it.
You're the holly to my berries. You're the marshmallows to my hot chocolate. You're the merry to my Christmas. We belong together. I love you.
The more he read, the bigger his smile grew—and his heart, too. She wanted Harry to sell the lodge to him. She was conceding, giving him his dream. It was the best gift anyone had ever, or could ever, give him. And she loved him?
"Really?" he said.
She looked him in the eye and nodded. "Really. All of it. Every word."
<
br /> As he broke into a grin, ready to take her in his arms and kiss her, Jim Dickson caught his eye. Jim held a jewelry box discreetly in his hand. He arched a brow, asking the question—Do you want to give this to Tara now?
Ryan grinned and nodded.
Santa's voice boomed out. "Looks like we have another present with a name on it. Looks like jewelry. Tara Clark, you're a lucky girl."
Santa walked to the edge of the stage, but he didn't hand Tara the box. He handed it to Ryan. "I think you'd better do the honors."
Tara's heart hammered a rhythm that twelve drummers drumming would be hard pressed to match. The noisy crowd surrounding them went silent-night quiet as Ryan opened the box and held it out to her, balanced on his fingertips.
She gasped. Her original engagement ring sparkled in its cushion of velvet. Her eyes clouded with tears, but she was smiling and couldn't help it. "Really, Ryan?"
"Yeah, really." He was smiling at her with the same hopeful look he'd had the first time he'd asked her to marry him. "It's just a placeholder. I'll get you a nicer one. Will you—"
"Yes, I will. This time I really will."
He slid it on her finger, right where it belonged and should have been these past ten years.
She held her hand out to admire it while she clutched her elf hat in the other. "I like this one."
She threw herself into his arms and held the elf hat with its fake mistletoe over his head to make it perfectly clear what she wanted.
As Ryan pulled her into a passionate kiss, she wrapped her arms around him and the crowd erupted in applause.
Piles of snow, mistletoe. The man I've always loved. Best Christmas ever.
She belonged in Ryan's arms now and forever. And she belonged in Echo Bay.
* * *
Thank You!
Thanks for reading Echo Bay Christmas. I hope you enjoyed it!
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Christmas Duet: A Big City, Small Town Christmas Romance Bundle Page 36
