Chelsea winced, but there was a glimmer of awe shimmering in her eyes.
Had no one ever stood up for her before? He certainly doubted that she’d ever stood up for herself. On the other hand, the comment about Ted probably had taken things too far. “Listen, Mrs. Tan. I’m sorry. Perhaps I went a little far with that last comment. What I mean to say is that it bothers me an awful lot to see Chelsea treated so poorly by another person, especially the person who is supposed to care the most for her in all the world. So for my disrespectful tone, I’ll offer an apology. But not for my message. And not for my meaning. Please, find someone to close up tonight, or maybe you could do it just this once if you don’t trust anyone else? It’s the week of Christmas.”
The woman muttered a few choice words that it was probably good he couldn’t make out, but he could tell she was ramping up for another denial.
He wasn’t about to give her that opportunity. “Thank you, Mrs. Tan. We appreciate your help.” He pressed the screen to hang up the call and handed the phone back to Chelsea. “Better put that on silent.” He offered her a wink.
She looked uncertain. “So she didn’t ever really say yes?”
He gave what he hoped was an innocent shrug and pulled out of their parking spot. “Let’s just say I didn’t give her the opportunity to try and decline again. But if your Aunt is anything like I suspect she is, she’ll be calling back.”
Chelsea’s phone rang.
Cannon glanced at her as they waited for a woman with a stroller to cross in front of them. “Don’t answer it, Chels. Stand up for yourself. You aren’t being rude or disrespectful to expect to be treated like a human being. And you didn’t leave her in the lurch. You chose a perfectly capable employee to do the job. If she can’t live with that, it’s in her court.” He held his breath, hoping she would choose, maybe for the first time ever, to fight for herself.
Chelsea’s finger hovered over the screen. Her face was so pale it matched the skimming of frost on the window behind her. Her hand dropped lower and he was just about to give up in defeat and get onto the freeway heading back south again, when her hand changed direction and she clicked the phone over to silent instead of answering.
He wanted to grin and whoop for joy. Instead, he calmly pulled into the lane to take them north. He’d been wondering something since the first time he’d met her aunt. “How did you ever talk your aunt into letting you go on that two week mission trip last summer?”
She laughed and settled into her seat. “Well, that is a story.”
He grinned. “We have a two hour drive for you to tell me about it.”
Outside, tiny white snowflakes that wouldn’t last long once they touched the ground sifted through the air.
Chelsea adjusted the radio to one playing soft Christmas music, a faraway thoughtful look in her eyes. “It was actually Pastor Chad who talked her into letting me go. I think he sort of tricked her into letting me go without knowing it. He’d heard that I wanted to go and I think he just assumed there wouldn’t be any problem, because the next time he greeted us in the foyer at church, he shook Aunt Flo’s hand and told her how grateful he was that she’d agreed to give me the time off to go on the trip.” Chelsea’s laugh drifted like bells through the car. “You should have seen the look on her face. She stuttered and sputtered for a minute before she finally said, ‘Of course, we are happy to support the work of Christ to the heathen’.” Her last words were spoken in a perfect Aunt Flo affectation.
Cannon grinned and reached for her hand, once more. “Well, I should figure out a Christmas present to buy for Pastor Chad then. Sounds like if it wasn’t for him, you and I never would have met.” His heart nearly broke at that thought and he held her hand a little tighter.
She eased back into her seat and they settled into making small talk as the miles along the freeway sped by. Before he knew it, they were pulling into the quaint little town of Leavenworth.
Chapter 9
Chelsea couldn’t believe she’d never been to Leavenworth before. As Cannon drove down the town’s one main street, she studied the buildings on either side. Quaint German architecture made it feel as though they’d just been transported to the Bavarian countryside. Wooden shingled houses complete with cute little balconies, were now accentuated by Christmas greenery and lighting of all sorts. As they’d climbed into the mountains, the snow had begun to stick, but she’d apparently been so busy talking to Cannon she hadn’t noticed. The main street was plowed and graveled, but everything else from the rooftops to the sidewalks glistened a sparkly white under the afternoon sun.
“How about we do a little exploring and then come back to town to eat?”
Chelsea nodded, happy to just go along for the ride and enjoy her evening off, especially since she was with Cannon. “Sure. Sounds fun.”
Cannon drove all the way through the little town – it was only a few blocks long – and then pulled off on a road that wound through evergreens and meadows. Branches drooped low, weighted down with fresh sparkling snow. The meadows looked like fresh made beds covered with down duvets.
Chelsea snuggled into the warmth of her seat and reveled in the pure beauty outside her window.
A deer picked its way along the edge of one field and Cannon slowed and eased off to the side of the road at a pull out area. In silence they watched the sleek, beautiful creature nibble a little of this and that protruding through the blanket of snow. The doe was so close Chelsea could make out the rough thickness of its winter coat.
“She’s beautiful,” Chelsea breathed.
“Definitely,” Cannon agreed.
Something in his tone made Chelsea glance his way.
His gaze wasn’t on the deer, but on her, and a gentle luminous appreciation filled his expression.
Chelsea held her breath, wanting to hide from the scrutiny and revel in it all at the same time.
He reached over and took her hand. His fingers slipped between hers, and in that moment she felt like all was right with the world. He squeezed her hand, smiled softly, and returned his focus to the deer.
She took a slow breath and followed his example. The man had quite simply stolen her resolve to keep him at arm’s length.
Something startled the doe at that moment and it leapt across the meadow in great bounds, leaving holes in the snow and an ache of appreciation in Chelsea’s heart.
Cannon glanced back at her and tipped a nod toward the meadow. “That field needs a snowman.”
Chelsea lifted her free hand and flipped it back and forth in front of his face. “We don’t have any gloves.”
He grinned and reached into the back seat. A plastic Cabela’s bag came into view a moment later, and he proudly tugged free two pairs of gloves, two knit caps, and two scarves. A soft blue gray for him, and a creamy white for her.
She smirked and set to putting everything on. “Alright, Africa, let’s see how long you last out there in the snow.”
He winced and thrust a fist over his heart. “She wounds me with her insults!”
She only laughed and climbed out into the cold.
Cannon followed to the edge of the meadow, then wrapped his arms around himself and shivered exaggeratedly. “Brrrrr! It’s cold out here!”
Pure joy bubbled up from inside her. The man made her laugh.
He dropped the act about how cold he was and took on a very serious look. “Alright, listen up.” He bumped her arm with the back of his gloved hand. “It’s a contest. You make your snowman over there, and I’ll make mine over here. And then we’ll decide which one of us is the Snowman Michelangelo.”
Skeptically, she folded her arms. “And who are the impartial judges in this contest going to be?”
“Aw, come on. We’re both adults. And Christians at that. We can judge impartially!”
“Okay.” She bent and scooped up a handful of snow that she formed into a ball. “But mine’s going to be the winner, just saying.” She dropped the snowball she’d created into the damp s
now near her feet and started rolling it toward the middle of the meadow.
Cannon only chuckled and set to work on his own creation.
She was so focused on forming and stacking the three sections she created in decreasing sizes that she didn’t pay attention to what he was creating. Carefully, she rounded out each snowball. A quick trip into the woods at the edge of the meadow provided some tree-branch arms, and rocks that she used for eyes, nose, and buttons. Her finishing touches were to put her cap on the top of the little snow head, her gloves on the ends of the stick arms, and her scarf around the chubby snow neck. She stepped back and scrutinized her work. It was pretty good if she did say so herself.
That was when she glanced over to see what Cannon had been building.
One look at his creation and she burst out laughing – bent double, thigh-slapping laughing. “You win,” she gasped out when she could catch her breath.
He had created a mother with curly twig hair and rock-outlined lips, and a father snowman with a comb-over of pine needles and a twig mustache. Both were bent at the waist and peering down in apparent horror at a child-sized mound of seemingly melted snow with a couple of wide eyes and a shocked O of a mouth pressed into it. The snowkid’s arms were reaching up toward his parents in a help-me-I’m-melting sort of way. A circle of stones made to look like a firepit completed the sculpture. Cannon was in the process of adding black rocks obviously meant to be charcoal to the center of his snowkid-melting-firepit.
He took a step back, folded his arms, and tilted his head, giving first his sculpture and then hers a once-over. “Well, for technical perfection, yours would win, but…” he strode over and wrapped his arms around her waist before she’d even realized what he was doing. He lifted her and spun her in a circle so quickly her arms gave in to the inertia and swept out to the sides. He looked up at her with an impish gleam in his eyes. “…you have to admit mine has a certain sort of humorous charm to it.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders and grinned down at him, but her heart was in her throat, because if he just let her loose a little, and stayed where he was, she would slip right down into the center of his arms. A provocative yet terrifying thought.
She saw the moment the same realization penetrated for him, because slowly his features turned serious and soft. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he loosed his arms but kept them tight enough to keep her close.
It would have been so easy to lean forward and let her lips capture his as she slipped by. Instead, reminding herself to be strong, she eased back from him slightly.
But oh, how she wanted to forget about the future and just revel in the here and now. Her feet firmly on the ground, Chelsea rolled her lips in and pressed them tightly together, refusing to meet his studious scrutiny. Her hands fiddled nervously with the lapels of his jacket. He’ll be gone next week, she firmly reminded herself. Don’t look at him. Just walk away.
The magnetism was too strong. Her eyes disobeyed the command to remain averted and she looked up at him.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he cupped one of her cheeks with his hand. “No pressure, Chels. None.” Then he grinned outright. “Okay, maybe a little.” His grin turned to a laugh and he held his fingers a scant width apart. But before she could give in to the urge to kiss him properly, he left her standing alone and jogged over to retrieve her hat, gloves and scarf from her snowman. “What do you say we head back into town and find something to eat?”
If she was disappointed that he’d walked away, there was relief mixed in too. Just when she’d been about to give in to her weakness for the man, he’d saved her from herself. But for the first time, the disappointment far outweighed the relief. “Sure.” The word came out on a squeak, and she cleared her throat.
Somebody needed to relieve the tension snapping like a taut line between them. She accepted her wraps from him and tilted her head cheekily. “I think the winner of this contest ought to have to pay for dinner, don’t you?”
He laughed and settled one arm around her shoulders as they trudged back toward the car. “The winner is fine with that just so long as it’s someplace where his thin African blood can find some warmth.” He shivered purposefully.
She poked him in the ribs. “Told you you wouldn’t last long out here.”
He tried to smile, but she didn’t miss the way his attention drifted to where they’d been standing a moment ago when they’d almost kissed, or the fleeting frown that touched his brow as he clicked his seatbelt into place.
Why did she feel like she might have just missed her last chance at the rest of her life?
A few minutes later when they pulled back into town, Cannon leaned low to scan the shop names along the main street. “So, I’ve never been here. Where’s a good place to eat?”
Chelsea shook her head. “I’ve never been here either. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, we’ll just pick one then.”
There were any number of places to choose from. And the heater was no longer only pumping in warm air – the scent of something delicious and spicy wafted in and made Chelsea’s stomach growl loudly.
Cannon chuckled. “And we better find one quickly it sounds like.” He pulled off onto a side street. “What sounds good?”
She shrugged. “Well, we are in a Little Bavaria, so we should probably eat something German.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him.
He laughed. “German it is. What kind of food is German food?” They rolled past a Teriyaki place. “I know it’s not that.”
“German…” she pondered. “Sauerkraut and…bratwurst?”
“Ding, Ding, Ding.” Cannon pointed out the window to a place called Munchen Haus. “I think we have a winner.” He tilted her a questioning look. “Sound good?”
She nodded.
Cannon parked and they stepped onto the sidewalk out front. Wicker Christmas trees shrouded in white lights made a pathway up to the door of the place. And Chelsea was surprised to note that the restaurant didn’t have any walls – just a roof and stone tile flooring. They passed under an archway that proclaimed “Wilkomen.” Cannon leaned closer, settling his hand at the small of her back. “Are you sure you’ll be warm enough here?”
She grinned at him and tweaked the knit cap he’d tugged down over his curls. “I think the real question, sire, is will you be warm enough here?”
“It’s bratwurst and kraut. I’d brave the frozen tundra of the arctic north for that.” He winked.
“Well, it’s settled then.” She tried not to enjoy the feel of his hand guiding her to the ordering counter too thoroughly. She tried to remind herself that he’d be gone back to Africa in just a few days. She tried…but an hour later, after she was done licking the delicious mustard off her fingers and they had ambled down the walk and ordered hot mochas from a sidewalk coffee stand, she suddenly realized she’d been having just a little too much fun to remember all her warnings to herself.
“So where to now, Miss Ice Queen?” Cannon tugged on a strand of her hair.
She chuckled. She hadn’t missed an opportunity to tease him about the fact that ten minutes into their meal he’d had to run back out to his car to retrieve his pair of gloves. He’d tried vainly to preserve them from the sticky honey mustard sauce he’d added to his dog and had failed miserably.
“Maybe we should take your gloves in to be dry cleaned?”
He laughed out loud at that. Stepping closer, he leaned down and peered into her face. “Do you want to say that again now that I’m this close?” There was no threat in his stance other than in the low timbre of his voice and the calculating way he studied her.
Maybe she hadn’t missed her last chance at happiness after all. She grinned and batted her eyelashes, purposely emphasizing the gesture but holding her silence.
His gaze warmed and roamed her face from her hairline to her chin and back.
Chelsea tucked one side of her lower lip between her teeth, all at once nervous that she had overste
pped the bounds of their relationship and yet at the same time hoping he might give her another chance and follow through on the desire she could once more see burning in the azure depths of his eyes.
After a long moment, he slowly stepped back a pace and nodded. “I see you’ve decided to plead the fifth.”
She eased out a measured breath, trying not to be too disappointed. She sipped her mocha to give herself a moment to recover, then offered, “Yes I’ve learned in life that sometimes that’s the best policy.”
Reaching over he took her hand and started down the sidewalk. He angled her a sideways glance. “Maybe we should just stroll and see where the sidewalk takes us.”
“Good idea.”
All around them the lights of the buildings started to turn on as dusk wrapped its quilt around the light of day. The entire length of the main street was soon one long string of lit up buildings, some red, some white, and some flashing the welcome glow of multiple colors. From the huge wooden gazebo in the park at the center of town Christmas music streamed through mounted speakers. Clusters of tourists chatted throughout the park, and several children sledding down the hill near the gazebo squealed with glee. The scent of warm woodsy chestnuts wafted to them from where a vendor roasted them over an open fire pit.
Cannon lifted one brow and jutted his chin toward the vendor. “Want some?”
Even though Chelsea was stuffed from the meal she’d just finished moments before, her mouth watered at the thought of the once a year treat. “Definitely.”
Cannon released her hand, and the loss of his warmth flooded her with the reminder that he was heading back to his job on the other side of the world in only a few days. And she’d just been wishing for another chance to kiss him. Her stomach knotted in indecision. What were they doing here?
She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced away. Across the park a lamp encircled by a wooden bench glowed warmly. A couple snuggled together on the bench, their foreheads pressed together. The man said something and the woman responded with a giggle. They were speaking to each other in a world where no one but the two of them existed. Could she and Cannon ever have something like that? She’d seen Levi and Havyn in just such blissful solitude in the middle of a crowd numerous times. But things were so much more complicated with Cannon and her. She was tied to the coffee shop for the unforeseeable future, and Cannon had his heart in missions.
Mistletoe and Mochas: A Christmas Romance Novella (Hearts of Hollywood Book 2) Page 6
