Not Christmas Without You

by Jane Porter

  He lifted a brow, his expression amused, but he said nothing. Silence stretched, and Charity stirred on the bench, feeling the frantic flutter of butterflies in her middle.

  “Are you ready for another confession?” she asked after a moment.

  “I think I can handle the shock.”

  She glanced at him swiftly and he was grinning, and she smiled crookedly, unable to resist him when he smiled at her.

  “Go on,” he said. “I’ve braced myself.”

  “I’m wildly attracted to you.”

  “Wildly?” he repeated.

  She nodded. “Like… yes.” She drew another swift, sharp breath, determined to get through this and just lay all her cards on the table. “My feelings aren’t easy to manage anymore, either. I thought if we kept things… platonic… I’d be okay around you. But my feelings just keep getting stronger, and I’m beginning to realize they’re not going to go away.”

  “I’m just glad you’re figuring out what I already know.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That you’re meant to be mine.”

  “How can you know that when we’ve had so little actual romance?”

  “Every minute I spend with you is romantic.”

  Heat rushed through her, and her pulse drummed. “And yet we only had that one little kiss in Wyoming.”

  His broad shoulders shifted. “But it was a good one.”

  She felt a funny little flutter in her middle and just talking about kissing made her lips tingle. “It was a good kiss. So good that sometimes all I can think about is kissing you again—”

  The rest of her words were cut off by his mouth covering hers. His hand cupped her nape, and his thumb stroked her cheek and his lips felt even more amazing than she remembered.

  Quinn didn’t hurry the kiss either. He took his time, deepening the kiss, parting her lips, and Charity was gone, lost in the pleasure, lost in him.

  When he finally lifted his head, her heart pounded and her skin prickled and Charity gazed into his eyes thinking yes, yes, this was the one she’d been waiting for.

  Chapter Nine

  Charity was at her desk early Monday morning, a little nervous about the text Sam had sent her late last night, asking her to meet with him early in the morning.

  Charity didn’t mind coming in early as she’d hoped she’d be able to leave early, too. The ping-pong balls were painted, but Mandy’s gown was still just a bolt of shimmering emerald-green satin. She also wanted to make something for herself if she could only figure out what she should wear.

  The front door opened and Sam entered the office in a flurry of snow.

  “It’s a cold one,” Sam said, removing his coat.

  “The office was freezing this morning. You should be grateful I arrived first, otherwise your teeth would still be chattering.”

  “Let me pour some coffee and then can you meet me in my office?” he asked.

  “I’ll be right in.”

  “Do you know what this is about?” he asked when she took a seat across from his desk.

  She shook her head.

  “I wish you’d told me things were escalating,” he said, picking up a pen and tapping it on his desk. “I don’t condone Greg’s behavior.”

  Charity’s confusion cleared. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Bother me? Charity, I’m lucky to have you. I’d rather lose him than you.”

  “Greg is an agent. He makes you money. I don’t.”

  “People love you, though. Greg… not so much.” He leaned back in his chair. “I talked to him over the weekend. He understands that he’s on thin ice. I don’t expect you’ll have any more trouble from him.”

  “That’s good.” She hesitated. “What did he say when you talked to him?”

  “Oh, the usual bluster, but I’m not interested in his excuses. You’ve been here longer than he has. You have seniority. And I’d be a fool to let you go. Real estate is all about relationships, and customers love you. You make them feel good. That’s a gift.”

  It was one of the nicest things Sam had ever said to her. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “Which makes me wonder, do you want to do more here? Would you like to become a real estate agent? I’d be happy to cover the cost of classes and exam fees if that’s holding you back.”

  She was touched, but at the same time, his generosity made her feel guilty because she had no desire to become a realtor. She knew the long hours it involved, and how competitive it could be and in all fairness, it just didn’t interest her that much. “It’s been a tough few weeks, and knowing I have you in my corner helps, but Sam, real estate as a career, isn’t for me. I hope you don’t mind that I’m content as I am—provided Greg gives me space.”

  “He will.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Let’s just say if I was Greg, I wouldn’t mess with Montana diplomacy.”

  *

  After work, Charity forced herself to stay home and focus on Amanda’s dress even though she was dying to head out to the Gallaghers to see Noel and Quinn. But she’d promised Amanda a dress and she would deliver. The floor-length dress would be made from a stunning emerald-green charmeuse, and she’d designed it with an hourglass shape. The sleeveless gown featured a draped cowl neckline that was just off the shoulder to better frame Mandy’s gorgeous face. The slim sheath silhouette gently flared below the hips to puddle at Mandy’s feet. The design wasn’t vintage but inspired by the 1940s clothing Amanda loved. With her hair pinned up and some pearl drop earrings—or even something sparkly—she’d be the belle of the ball.

  Charity began sewing in sixth grade in an effort to make the dreadful hand-me-downs she and Amanda wore more appealing. It took her a couple of years, but she became an expert seamstress, learning to play with hems and seams, shoulders and necklines. She didn’t have money to go to a fabric store, and so she haunted the yard sales, picking up garments to remake in one of her own designs.

  Charity loved experimenting with patterns, too, testing fabrics and how they’d hold up over time. By the time she was a sophomore in high school, she could sew anything. She made all of Mandy’s party and prom dresses at Marietta High, as well as anything else her sister needed, because Charity was determined Amanda should never feel inferior to anyone, for any reason.

  Adjusting the lamp over her sewing table, Charity sat down at her sewing machine. As she eased the fabric under the needle she wondered again what she’d wear Saturday. The gown would have to be dramatic and elegant and wildly romantic. She pictured soft. No sequins. Nothing shiny. Nothing overly revealing either.

  She could almost see it in her mind’s eye—delicate, an overlay of lace, bare shoulders, gleaming skin—but the rest of the details were still vague. Hopefully with a little bit of time the design would come to her as she wanted to look beautiful at Mistletoe and Montana for Quinn.

  *

  “I miss Rusty Noel,” she texted Quinn from her desk Tuesday afternoon.

  He must have been in the middle of something as it took him a little bit to respond. “I knew you only liked me for my dog.”

  She grinned, heart tumbling. She’d fallen hard for him. So hard. “It’s my dog,” she replied, before adding, “If it’s any consolation, I miss you, too.”

  “Come work at my house tonight. That way you can spend the evening with Rusty Noel.”

  That actually was a great idea. She’d love to be able to spread out her different tree projects, something she couldn’t do at her house on Chance Avenue. “What if I brought something for an early dinner? Could you sneak away for a half hour?”

  “I’ll meet you at the house to let you in, but Sawyer warned me that this week is going to be busy so I won’t be able to stay long.”

  “My plan is to be there by four, so I can get there before dark. Also, need your address.”

  He sent her the address before adding, “Text me when you take the first turn off. I’ll leave the Gallaghers and meet you t
here.”

  *

  In the five years he’d owned his Paradise Valley house, Quinn had never invited his family to dinner. Of course they’d come over at different times, but he’d never thrown a party, or hosted a barbecue. He didn’t celebrate holidays here and there had never been guests taking advantage of the many guestrooms. Over the years, Alice had asked about his house, hinting she wanted to see it, but he’d never flown her out for a visit, reluctant to let her see what he’d built for his family one day, certain she’d find fault in decisions he’d made.

  Quinn wasn’t sure what Charity would think of his house. Would she find it was too big, too imposing? Would she wonder who he was trying to impress?

  There were times in the planning and building of the house, he’d worried that he was trying too hard, trying to be someone he wasn’t. And then he became annoyed with himself because he had the means to build himself any house he wanted, and this was the one he wanted.

  Big, sturdy, spacious, comfortable.

  The floor-to-ceiling windows and soaring spaces weren’t accidental. He wanted the high ceilings and tall windows so light could pour in. He wanted windows that would let him look out, and up. He wanted to see the peaks of the mountains, as well as the sparkling river coursing through the valley floor.

  He wanted the heavens for God and his family, and this bit of earth for his heart and home.

  But he’d never shared those thoughts with anyone, and he felt almost bashful as he opened the door and invited Charity in. He watched her face as she crossed the threshold, her expression lit up as Rusty raced to greet her and then her eyes widened as she took in the entry and the great room beyond. The interior, like the exterior, had been crafted from wood and stone, but in the living room, the colors were warm, the wood golden in places and chestnut in others.

  Quinn carried her boxes and bags of supplies to the dining room table and placed them at one end. “Feel free to spread out,” he said. “Use every surface in every room. It’s all yours.”

  “This is a lot of space,” she murmured.

  “I grew up with a big family,” he answered, “but we were crammed into a small ranch house. I thought I’d give my kids more space.” The moment he said the words he kicked himself because she’d grown up in a house far smaller than his, but she didn’t seem to be bothered. She just nodded thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on the horizon and where the sun had set behind the Gallatins, streaks of pink and lavender painting the sky.

  “You probably get a spectacular sunset every night, don’t you?” she said.

  The sunset might be striking but he couldn’t bother to look, too taken by her lovely face and pretty profile. “If I were here,” he answered. “Since returning, I’ve been at the Gallaghers every night at this time.”

  She glanced at him then and smiled. It wasn’t one of her teasing smiles, or nervous smiles. This smile was slow, and warm, and filled with something almost like… appreciation. The effect was dazzling. Her smile made him feel powerful.

  “You’re doing such a good thing,” she said, “helping them out. You have no idea how much I admire you, or respect you—”

  “This community has given me so much. It’s only right that I give back.”

  “You’re going above and beyond.”

  “It’s hard for me to explain, but this is exactly what I should be doing. Being here, giving back. I needed this.”

  Something horrific happened on his family’s ranch, and yet something beautiful took place in the aftermath.

  People came together, and loved hard, and their love made the difference. Love made a difference.

  It was why he was here now. For the Gallaghers, yes, but also Charity. She was the one he was meant to be with.

  He couldn’t explain how he knew, only that he knew it was true. The same way he’d always known that there was a reason he’d been spared that day on the ranch.

  “Is there anything else I can bring in from your car?” he asked.

  “No, that’s everything.”

  “Then let me show you how the alarm on the house works, and then I’ll head back to the Gallaghers.”

  *

  After Quinn left, Charity watched the last glow of light fade from the horizon and then walked around the house, turning on lights, trying to make herself feel more comfortable. Rusty followed her on her self-guided tour, keeping close to her side.

  Quinn’s house was lovely. No, lovely wasn’t an accurate description. The house was huge, stunning, by far the most luxurious thing she had ever seen. Stone and wood, mammoth rock fireplaces, massive beams, supple leather sofas the color of butterscotch. The kitchen was the size of her family home on Chance Avenue. The landing on the stairs could easily accommodate a bed and dresser. There were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms and views out every window.

  She peeked into the master bedroom and it had a big bed to match the soaring ceiling and airy space, and yet it was surprisingly serene. A cream duvet cover. Cream pillow shams. And then folded on the foot of the bed was an antique patchwork quilt edged in a navy velvet.

  Charity found the quilt irresistible and crossed the room to examine it more closely. It was all hand stitched and the fabric was worn thin in places but the colors of the silk and wool fabric remained vivid.

  She ran her hand over the midnight-blue velvet trim. It felt plush and decadent. She wondered if Quinn ever pulled the quilt up, or if it was merely decorative. There had to be a story to it. She’d love to know the story, and hoped it was his family’s and not just an accent piece purchased by his interior designer.

  Downstairs again, Charity knew it was time to settle down and work. But she couldn’t get comfortable. The house was too polished, too perfect. With the exception of the wreath on the front door, Quinn’s house lacked holiday cheer. Fortunately, Charity knew a way to add cheer quickly. She connected her phone to Quinn’s Bluetooth speakers and put on her favorite Christmas album and then turned it up loud, singing along with Kelly Clarkson as she laid out the strings of lights on the enormous dining room table. Once the four strings of lights were out, she began attaching the painted ping-pong balls to the miniature white lights. Every third light got a ping-pong ball, and a dollop of superglue to hold the ball in place.

  While the glue dried, she laid the pennants in a circle on the huge kitchen island, trying to come up with a pleasing pattern. Blue, green, blue, gold, green…

  She stepped back to study the colors. She was short pennants, but the pennant tree skirt needed something. Maybe more color? Or maybe just two colors, maybe she should keep it all the Mariners blue and green? Or maybe she could take a red wool or velvet and mix it in with the blues and green, so blue Mariners pennant, hunter-green Mariners pennant, dark red fabric, and then the blue and green again. If she did that, she wouldn’t need more pennants and she could finish the tree skirt tonight. She liked that idea.

  Things were coming together. Everything was falling into place. She’d found red, blue, and green glass balls at the Mercantile, and Sadie was selling vintage silver and gold stars in her shop on Main Street. The plastic sleeves had arrived, and she’d filled them with baseball cards from Mr. Gallagher’s collection and looped red, blue, and white ribbon at the top of each to create a hanger for the tree. Even if nothing arrived from the Seattle Mariner store, they’d have a beautiful baseball themed tree.

  She returned to the lights to check if the ping-pong balls were attached, and when she lifted part of one strand, they stayed in place, glowing like miniature baseballs.

  She couldn’t help smiling at her handiwork. The lights were adorable.

  Rusty lifted his head and whined. Charity glanced out the window. It was dark out. She didn’t know what had caught Rusty’s attention.

  He sat up and barked. Charity glanced toward the windows again, suddenly wishing she’d drawn the tall drapes to cover all that glass.

  Then the doorbell rang. Charity glanced from the door to Rusty, who was now standing between he
r and the door. Charity wasn’t exactly scared, but she did feel uneasy.

  She muted the music and went to the door, peeked through the peephole, and spotted a woman on the doorstep. She was young and very pretty, with long brown hair, a thick fur coat, and knee-high boots. She also had two huge suitcases with her.

  Charity used the security system’s intercom. “Hi, can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Quinn Douglas’s place. The GPS brought me here, but maybe it was wrong.”

  Charity’s stomach fell. “You got it right. This is his house.”

  “In that case, would you please let me in? It’s freezing out here!”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are and Quinn didn’t mention he had any visitors coming.”

  “I’m not a visitor,” the woman answered indignantly. “I’m Alice Sterling, his girlfriend.”

  His girlfriend.

  Charity’s legs went weak and her insides lurched. “Just a moment,” she said unsteadily, hands shaking as she attempted to turn off the alarm to open the door but she got it wrong the first time and had to try a second time before getting it to turn off so she could open the door.

  Alice looked Charity up and down before pulling one suitcase in. She left the other on the doorstep and then closed the door. “Quinn can get that one later. It’s just his baseball stuff.”

  Charity watched Alice walk through the entry and on into the great room. “It’s actually nicer than I imagined,” she said, almost under her breath. She continued her exploring, brazenly walking from the living room to the dining room where she paused to study the strings of baseball lights.