Jingle Bell Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “Nothing that can’t wait. We’re talking about stickers here. Important stuff.”

  Suddenly Meg had returned—Chelsea wasn’t even sure where she’d went. Meg, ever helpful, grinned exceptionally brightly from the hallway. “Come in, Macie. Let’s go raid my sister’s stash of stickers, okay?”

  “Okay. Does she have a good stash?” Macie trailed into the house and down the hall. Daisy—Dee for short—scrabbled after her, doggy nails tapping a cheerful rhythm on the wood floor.

  Alone with Michael, Chelsea took a deep breath, fighting the unsettling sensation of being close to him. It troubled her, trickling in like the cold wind through her coat and she shivered. Now what did she say? Nothing brilliant came to mind. Funny, she’d been uncomfortable with him last night for an entirely different reason.

  He looked as uneasy as she felt. He jammed his fists into his coat pockets, looking like a male model striking a pose for winter wear. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and his high intelligent forehead furrowed as if he were searching for something sociable to say to break the lengthening silence.

  Talk about awkward. He was still standing on the porch! Why hadn’t her brain worked enough to invite him in? “Maybe you’d like some hot chocolate?”

  “No, I don’t like hot chocolate.” His deep blue eyes transmitted his apology.

  “Okay, then—”

  Like an answer to a prayer, Sara Beth breezed up the steps, her face pink from the freezing wind. “Hey, Chels, it’s time to get the lights up. We’ve got two hours tops before Dad rolls in.”

  “Right.” The perfect excuse. “Maybe you could take Michael inside? Maybe get him something to drink.”

  “Sure. Hi, Michael.” Sara Beth nodded, apparently acquainted with the man. A total surprise. “Come on in and make yourself at home. Maybe keep an eye on Macie. No telling what kind of trouble she and Meg will get into with those stickers.”

  “Stickers are not my domain. I’d rather avoid it.” Another hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, when a man sees a ladder, he has to climb it.”

  “Fine by me.” Sara Beth shot Chelsea a grin and wagged her eyebrows. “I’ll just go and fetch the lights. You two can get to work.”

  “Us two?” Chelsea shot her sister a death-ray glare. What was going on? “Wait, Sara Beth. Aren’t you going to help?”

  “Why should I, when we have a volunteer to do it?” Sara Beth sashayed down the hallway, leaving Chelsea alone with the man again.

  Why did she suspect her sister had some kind of motive?

  “I know Sara Beth from the riding stables.” He broke the silence, taking the first step in the direction of the ladders. “She’s teaching riding. She’s Macie’s instructor.”

  “That explains it.” Chelsea closed the door behind her, shivering in the cold wind on the porch. “Sara Beth is the best.”

  “So I hear. Macie wants to be like her.”

  “Good call. Sara Beth is awesome. She’s a world-ranked rider.” Pride for her sister came through. “She won a bronze medal in the last Olympics.”

  “And a gold and a silver in a couple World Championships. I know all about it.” Not because he knew anything about the McKaslin family, but because a little sprite he knew talked on and on about it.

  “How long has Macie been riding?”

  “Since the school year started.” His attempt to make her life as normal as possible after her mother’s passing. Not an easy thing to do, and remembering how hard it had been for Macie still choked him up. “My wife loved horses. For our last Christmas together, Diana promised riding lessons and a horse to Macie. I will never forget our last holiday together as a family.”

  “Those memories are great treasures. That was like Mom’s last Christmas with us. We did everything to the max, decorating, gifts, the food. All that mattered was that she was with us.”

  “I understand.” His throat tightened. As he ambled down the shoveled pathway, his feelings stirred. Maybe it was the bracing air that burned in his lungs with each breath or the quiet beauty of the December morning. “I would give everything I have to give Macie one more day with her mother.”

  “I know the feeling, wanting to do anything to turn back time.” Her understanding touched him like a blessing. A gentle gust of wind caressed her light chestnut locks, which fell like gleaming silk over her slender shoulders. “I have to believe that love lives on.”

  “Me, too.” He wasn’t sure what was happening to his stoic heart. He tipped back his head to study the placement of the ladders, stretching up two stories. Footsteps crunched close behind him and Sara Beth waltzed around the corner of the garage carrying a big plastic storage tub in both arms. It looked like an awfully awkward bin, so he headed toward her. “Let me get that.”

  “I’ll get it.” Chelsea sailed in front of him, and the long lean line she made as she plunged through the snow made him think of music videos and wholesome country stars and the innocent grace of Christmas carols. Her long hair swept behind her like a rippling melody. She handled the big tub with ease. “Sara Beth, you’re staying to help, right?”

  “Sorry, I changed my mind.” Sara Beth’s dark eyes looked him up and down, and her grin was just shy of mischievous. She turned on her heel and tossed over her shoulder, “I’ve got better things to do.”

  “Someone is getting coal in their stocking come Christmas morning. I’m not naming any names, but it could be you.” Chelsea flipped off the container’s lid and sunlight shone on the thousand miniature lights inside. “Can you believe it? She abandoned me.”

  “What’s the world coming to, right?”

  “Right.” Her brows arched, an adorable little twist of her beautiful face, and exactly how lovely she was hit him like a snowball to the chest. Her porcelain jawline and dainty chin gave her a sweetheart’s look. Her sloping nose and friendly blue eyes could make stronger men than he stop in their tracks. She didn’t seem aware of it as she plucked a coil of white lights from the container. “You don’t look like the handyman type. So, really, why are you doing this?”

  “Because one good turn deserves another.” He took possession of the coil, lifting it from her slender fingers. “Besides, it’ll give me practice. Macie is bound to talk me into stringing lights at home, and this way I’ll make all my mistakes here.”

  “With our lights? Right.” She wasn’t fooled. She fished out a plastic bag of gutter hooks, sneaking another peek at him. Had he always been so tall? He had to be a few inches over six foot and he smelled good, like pine.

  He snagged the plastic bag of gutter clips and seized a ladder rung. Without a second of hesitation, he climbed with confidence and speed. Since she didn’t want to be shown up by a man, she headed for the second ladder, took a steadying breath and grabbed hold of a metal rung. Lord, please don’t let me crash to my death.

  Determined not to visualize doom, she launched off the ground. The ladder trembled and shook with every step she took.

  That didn’t bode well, but she kept her eyes on the next rung and didn’t look down. Maybe the height wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t see it. Made sense, right?

  The wind gusted, wobbling the ladder. Eek. She clutched the metal, although there was no crashing to the ground and no doom. Still, she hated the way the ground seemed miles away. She swallowed hard, determined to keep going.

  “Why don’t you get down?” Michael’s deep baritone warmed the words, he really was a good guy. “I’ve got this.”

  “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily. Sorry.” She might not like heights, but no way was she quitting. Not when she’d made up her mind to do something.

  Determined, she trained her gaze on the gutter above. Three steps more. Two. Safely at the top she slowly uncoiled the string of lights and hoped Michael didn’t notice how much
her hands were shaking.

  Chapter Three

  Michael nudged the small plastic hanger into place, tried to keep his attention on the eight or so inches of white stuff piled precariously on the roof over his head and failed. His gaze slid to the woman clutching the gutter lip with what appeared to be all her strength. Why didn’t she just let him do this? “Are you always this stubborn?”

  “Usually more.” If she gripped the gutter any tighter, something was going to break. “Rumor has it, stubborn is my middle name.”

  “Hey, mine too.” His own laughter surprised him, causing him to almost lose his balance. The ladder wobbled, his hand shot out, hit the snow on the roof and a cold avalanche rained over him. Icy stuff hit him in the face, slid down his coat collar and kept coming in a glittery white fall, blinding him. He probably looked like an idiot.

  “Good one,” she quipped. “Now who has a death grip on the gutter?”

  “I’m usually more suave than this. Smooth. Debonair.” He batted snow out of his face.

  “I noticed that the first instant we met.” Humor laced her words.

  She had to remind him of that, didn’t she? Not that he could see her just now because another wave of falling snow smacked him in the face.

  “Need any help?” she asked.

  “No.” Debonair he was not. He blinked snow out of his eyes. “This looked easier from the ground.”

  “It always does.”

  The avalanche finally stopped and he ran a gloved hand over his eyes, able to blink. Ice clung to his lashes and gleamed in the sun so when he looked at her, she seemed framed by light, surreal, a vision come to life.

  “Maybe it would have been smarter to let the sun melt some of this before we started, but did I think of it? No.” She clipped her string of lights into the plastic hook. “My sisters wanted to get the lights up before Dad gets home.”

  “So he’s usually on light duty?”

  “True, but one of us always helps him. The job goes faster that way and besides, you can’t help wanting to spend time with Dad.”

  “So this time you want to surprise him?” He cringed when a trickle of ice slipped between his shirt and his collarbone.

  “Something like that. See, Dad always put up the lights with Mom’s supervision. Since she’s been gone...” There were no words to describe the loss. She focused on stringing the lights, getting them to sit just right in the clips. “Mom was big into Christmas. Lights and decorations and Christmas carols playing. The works.”

  “You don’t want your father to feel her loss while he’s hanging the lights.” Understanding softened his granite features and warmed the low notes of his voice. “It’s easier to go on when you don’t stop to feel the loss.”

  “Exactly.” Interesting that they had this in common. She didn’t like that her estimation of him crept up a notch. “Is that what you do? You try not to feel the grief?”

  “I try to forget it. Bury it. Psychologists might not agree, but it works for me.”

  “Me, too. Last Christmas we couldn’t put up as much as a tree.” She thought of the seasonal cheer, the festive joy, the touches of caring her mother had brought to the holiday and to her family. “This year, we’re trying to do Christmas the way she would have wanted.”

  “It’s a tough thing to do. Two Christmases have gone by for us, this will be our third.” He hung another length of lights. “It was hardest on Macie.”

  “I’m so sorry for that. Do you have other family in the area?”

  “My folks live in town. They moved here after I set up practice, to be closer to their granddaughter.” The wind gusted, ruffling his sandy brown hair. “Mom always does Christmas right, and she can cook. Can’t wait for her turkey and stuffing.”

  “My mom was a good cook, too. But me? Not so much.” She clipped more lights in place, ignoring the fact that her fingertips were numb with cold.

  “You? A bad cook? I don’t believe that. You look like there’s nothing you do badly.”

  She would not be charmed by his compliment and a hint of a dimple. “I’m too clinical. I approach cooking like a lab experiment. Exact measurements with the potential of anything going wrong.”

  “But the outcome is edible.”

  “Mostly, but it’s been frozen dinners for years. Med school, intern, resident. No time.”

  “I remember well.” His gaze met hers, zooming across the distance between them as if there were no distance, as if they were no longer strangers, as if he were way too close.

  Shyness swept through her and she jerked her gaze away. Her forearm bumped the gutter and snow tumbled onto her head, momentarily blinding her.

  “Don’t worry.” His words carried on the wind. “Eventually the ice melts and then you’re just wet.”

  “Something to look forward to.” The snow just kept on coming. She sputtered, held onto the gutter for dear life and thought she heard the rattle of a ladder that sounded suspiciously closer than it used to be. Sure enough, the avalanche stopped and there was Michael so near she could reach out and push him.

  “At least the lights look good.” He leaned across the foot and half of space between them to brush snow from her face.

  Air stalled in her throat, choking her. Really, she could do it herself, but she didn’t move. She blinked, able to see the shaven texture of his strong, square jaw and flecks of ice blue in his irises.

  “Are you okay?” Concern crinkled pleasantly in the corners of those irresistible eyes.

  “Sure. That was invigorating.”

  “Nothing like a snowy winter’s morning on the roof.” His glove swiped snow away from her coat collar.

  That was really nice of him, but he was making her dizzy. Somehow she managed to draw in air. “Thanks, but I’m not Macie.”

  “Right, got it.” He handily grabbed the end of her lights dangling from the clip and plugged his string in. The icicle lights dangled and glowed, lovely even in the daylight. “I just didn’t want you falling.”

  “I appreciate that.” She cleared her throat, surprised that her words came out a little strained. “Falling would be a bad thing for many reasons. Just think, if I landed in the rosebushes, they’d never be the same.”

  A dog’s happy bark rang like a bell from beneath the porch, scattering sparrows away from the bird feeder. Dee pranced down the steps and down the walkway, head held high, tongue lolling, as excited as if she were leading a parade down Main Street. Macie followed with a few telltale cookie crumbs on her coat, flanked by Sara Beth. Meg shut the front door and trailed down the porch steps after them.

  Finally, her sisters had come to rescue her. Not that hanging around with Michael Kramer had been so terrible. No, she certainly couldn’t say that. “Looks like your daughter has come looking for you.”

  “So I see. I guess that’s my cue to leave, unless you want me to stay and help.”

  “Oh no, I have plenty of help, if I can motivate my sisters, and you have a daughter to take care of.” She gripped the top rung and moved carefully down one step and the next. “Plus, I’m anxious to see what she’s done to her cast. Let me see, Macie.”

  “It’s all Christmassy now.” The girl held her arm up for all to see. “They had lots of stickers, Dad. It was awesome.”

  “But in the end we went with an animal and Christmas theme,” Sara Beth explained, folding a lock of straight dark hair behind her slim shoulder. “Doesn’t it look stunning?”

  “I think the color scheme works,” Meg added, her dark eyes twinkling.

  “Do you like it, Dad?” Macie beamed, her pink cast artfully decorated with candy cane stickers, white snowflakes and gold stars, Christmas trees and cats and dogs. “And I got to pet Burt.”

  “Who’s Burt?” he asked.

  “Burt liked that, I’m sure.�
� Chelsea leaned in to check out the stickers. Her light chestnut hair tumbled across her face, shielding her as she admired Macie’s sticker choices. “Now that’s one fantastic cast.”

  “I know,” she said in her high, sweet voice. “Burt is a cat, Dad. You know, what I’m asking for Christmas.”

  “I’m well aware.” No secret there. He caught hold of his child’s shoulder, nudging her toward the car.

  “I was going to ask for a white kitty, but now I want a gray striped one like Burt.” Macie crunched through the snow with her pink boots.

  That was already on his Christmas to-do list. Find a kitten for Macie. Not that he knew where to find kittens. The pet store? Ads in the paper?

  The Lab gave a cheerful bark and loped ahead, glancing over her shoulder to smile at them in her doggy way.

  “And I want one that hugs me,” Macie reminded him for the fiftieth time.

  “I know.” He yanked open the SUV’s passenger door. “I’m still planning on giving you a stocking full of coal. No presents at all.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” Macie rolled her eyes, not believing him. He couldn’t imagine why.

  He swung her up onto the seat. “Time to go, little one. You’re looking a little pale around the gills.”

  “Fish have gills. Not me.”

  “Sure you do.” He helped her buckle up, aware of the women standing nearby, especially one woman, although he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t have to turn around to picture her standing ankle deep in snow in her navy coat and with her wavy chestnut hair dancing in the wind.

  “Thank you for the stickers,” Macie called over his shoulder.

  “You let me know if you need more. We have plenty,” Sara Beth answered, although it wasn’t her that he noticed as he turned to close the door.

  “The icicle lights look the best. You were right, Macie.” Chelsea gestured toward the house where two strings of lights flashed in the glancing sunlight. “Thanks for the help, Michael. It’s more than my own sisters would do.”

  “Hey, I could have done it,” Sara Beth corrected good-naturedly.