Sugar Pine Trail--A Small-Town Holiday Romance

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Now you tell me, when I’m counting on you!” She smiled. “Why don’t you do all the books? They should be easy enough to wrap. I’ll grab another folding chair.”

  He picked up a roll of wrapping paper and went to work. After she set down the chair she brought in, she turned on a wireless speaker by her bed and found a Christmas station.

  It was an odd, comfortable experience, sitting in her cozy bedroom and wrapping presents while they talked about Christmases they remembered.

  She told him about the stockings her mother sewed every year and filled with small, meaningful gifts that came from the heart and showed him the stockings she had hand-sewn for the boys with their names on them. He told her about the craziness of Christmas morning with seven kids, all vying to be the first to open gifts.

  “Where did you travel this week?” she asked, when the conversation began to lull.

  “New York,” he said. “We flew out Monday and came back this afternoon. I had an extra day in the middle there to twiddle my thumbs.”

  He had gone shopping and had picked out a few more things he needed to wrap himself, but he didn’t mention that to her.

  “Do you like New York?”

  “It’s a great city all the time but particularly at Christmas,” he said. “I know that sounds like a cliché and everybody says that, but it’s a cliché because it’s true. There’s music on every street corner, special shows in some of the theaters, wildly decorated windows. It’s vibrant and exciting.”

  And the entire time he had been there, he had longed to be home, here in Haven Point with Julia and the boys.

  “I would love to see that someday,” she said, a soft, wistful note in her voice.

  He came within a breath of telling her he would take her the very next time he had to fly out for Caine Tech, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t tell her that. Nor could he take her to New York City. He was moving out in a little more than a week, and he still needed to find a way to tell her.

  Before he knew it, they had gone through three rolls of gift paper and finished wrapping everything in the bags.

  “Is that the last of it?” he asked.

  “I think so.” She peered around the room and even under the bed to make sure they didn’t miss anything.

  “Yes. That’s it,” she said.

  “Where do you plan to hide the stuff? You can put it upstairs at my place, if you want.”

  “I have a secret in my closet,” she said with a mischievous smile.

  “Now that sounds intriguing,” he answered, trying to ignore how desperately he wanted to kiss her.

  She led him to a small walk-in closet that he thought might once have served as a place for a baby crib off the master bedroom. He had a feeling Winston House had many secrets still to reveal.

  Her closet smelled like her, clean and crisp and delicious, of vanilla and fresh apples and other scents he couldn’t identify. He wanted to close his eyes and just inhale.

  It seemed a very intimate thing to be standing in her closet, surrounded by her clothes. He could hardly believe that he had once thought she was a boring librarian. Julia was far more than she appeared on the surface.

  Her expression was almost impish as she slid aside several dresses on hangers to reveal a panel painted the same color as the drywall around it. The panel was about eighteen inches across and perhaps four feet tall.

  “What’s this? A secret tunnel?”

  “My father said his grandfather built it during Prohibition, when this was a dry county. He had a still in here and made his own corn whiskey. I love imagining that. He looks so stern and forbidding in every picture I’ve ever seen. Somehow it makes me so happy to know he had this hidden dangerous side, too.”

  Like his great-granddaughter. Jamie doubted she would see any similarity but he could. She was serious and somewhat formal on the outside, but that layer concealed someone who loved to ski, thrived on adventure and kissed like a dream.

  “You’re sure the presents will be safe from prying eyes in there?”

  “The boys have no idea this hidey-hole even exists. They’ll never find my stash.”

  “Who knew you could be so sneaky?”

  She beamed as if he had just handed her a bouquet of glorious roses. “Now we just have to find room for everything in there.”

  “You’ll also have to make sure you don’t misplace any presents in the deep, dark corners of your hiding spot.”

  “Right, especially after we’ve gone to the trouble to wrap them all.”

  The two of them took several trips to carry presents into the small closet. It required a little effort and geometric calculations, but they finally were able to stack the boxes in a manner that ensured everything fit.

  “That’s the last of it,” she declared, stuffing in a small box he knew contained a baseball.

  “Great.”

  Did she have any idea he was dying here? Every time she brushed against him, trying to wedge one more present in the space, he could feel his heartbeat ratchet up a notch.

  Working together in this contained space had been torture the last ten minutes. The scent of her overwhelmed him, taunting and tantalizing. With every breath, he inhaled her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You’re right. Without you, I couldn’t have finished in time.”

  Jamie forced a smile, desperate to leave the confines of the closet.

  “Glad I could, uh, help.”

  She studied him. “Is something wrong? Your voice sounds odd. Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

  He sighed. “Water isn’t what I need right now.”

  “What is?”

  “You.”

  The word slipped out before his internal censors could shut it down. It seemed to hover between them, a living, breathing thing.

  “Oh.” She gazed at him, eyes huge in her features and her soft mouth slightly parted.

  “Yeah. Oh,” he muttered. “Sorry. I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Jamie.”

  She said only his name, her voice pitched low, but it was enough to tell him he wasn’t the only one feeling this tug and pull.

  He wasn’t sure if he made the first move or if she did. He only knew that an instant later, she was in his arms, and he was kissing her with all the pent-up heat he had been trying to shove down all week.

  She tasted better than she smelled, like Christmas and birthdays and every wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. He felt the soft weight of her arms around his neck, the delicious curl of her fingers in his hair. She pressed her curves against him, and his body hardened instantly.

  All he could think about was holding her, touching her, tasting her. Skin on skin, mouth against mouth. Her softness, his hardness.

  They kissed for several heady moments, there in the cloistered silence.

  “Why are we standing in the closet?” she finally murmured against his mouth. “I have a perfectly good bed only steps away.”

  Heat raced through him at her words. “Excellent point.”

  She tangled her fingers with his and tugged him out into her bedroom. After the intimate confines of her closet, the bedroom felt airy and cool.

  It provided a bracing reminder that he shouldn’t be doing this, but it disappeared the moment she pulled him to her bed and kissed him with that sweet, willing passion.

  He would only kiss her a moment, he told himself. They would stop before things went too far. The boys would be home soon, anyway. He couldn’t walk away yet. How could he? They could play this dangerous game a few moments more, before the rest of the world intruded.

  He lowered himself to the bed and pulled her with him, loving the way her body rose to meet him. When she whispered his name and framed his face with her smooth, soft h
ands with a tenderness that made him ache, he totally forgot about the boys, about the presents, about his vow to leave shortly. All he could focus on in this moment was Julia and this tangle of emotion between them and how fiercely he wanted her.

  The skin of her back beneath her sweater was the softest thing he had ever felt, warm and smooth and amazing. He couldn’t get enough and wanted to explore each inch. Heat swirled between them, especially when she shifted until she was astride him, her softness cradling his hardness in the most perfect way. She gasped and arched against him, restless and hungry, making small gasping breaths against his mouth as she slid back and forth, searching, searching. With all the layers of clothing between them, this simulation of making love—close but so very far away—was agony and incredible pleasure at once.

  A moment more and then he would stop, he told himself. He kissed her, sucking her tongue deep into his mouth.

  And then it happened.

  She gasped and arched against him, and he felt the delicious shudders ripple through her before she seemed to turn boneless against him.

  Watching this woman who could sometimes be so prickly and serious come undone in his arms was the single most erotic moment of his life.

  Her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her entire body seemed to pulse with energy and life. She was beautiful, and he was achingly hard, more aroused than he ever remembered being. He wanted desperately to take off the rest of their clothing and find release inside her this instant, but he couldn’t.

  She wasn’t ready.

  She might be physically ready—her spontaneous orgasm was evidence of that—but he couldn’t take that final step.

  After a moment, she rolled over, and he saw her features were fiery pink.

  “You don’t have to look so smug,” she said, a cross note in her voice that made him smile, despite his aching need.

  “Not smug at all. Overwhelmed at how beautiful that was.”

  She gave an embarrassed-sounding laugh. “It’s ridiculous. We barely touched. It’s just...it’s been a long time for me.”

  “How long?” He couldn’t help asking.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not a virgin spinster, if that’s what you were wondering. I’m not a virgin or a spinster.”

  When he said nothing, only continued watching her with great interest, she sighed. “It is a long and twisted story for another day.”

  “Twisted. You are full of surprises, Miss Winston.”

  “Not twisted as in kinky. Twisted as in...complicated.”

  He was more intrigued by her than ever. Though he was still fiercely aroused, he loved lying here holding her.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  She gazed at him for a long moment, then sighed. “I don’t think this is the right moment. You’re still...” She vaguely gestured toward him, and a blush heated her cheeks.

  “I’ll live. I promise.” If a guy had to have an orgasm every time he was aroused, no teenage boy would ever make it out of the bathroom.

  He didn’t want to move from this spot, but he sensed this would be easier for her if he gave her a little space. He eased away slightly, though their hands were still entwined. “What is your long and twisted story? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I would like to know.”

  He wanted to know everything about her, all the winding roads she had followed that had made her into the incredible woman she had become.

  “It will shock you,” she warned.

  “Then, by all means, go on.”

  She smiled a little, then sat up and adjusted her sweater slightly, as if vying for time.

  “I was briefly married when I was twenty-one,” she finally said.

  Of all the things he had imagined, that wouldn’t have even hit the list. Not that it was some kind of deep, dark scandal, only unexpected. “Married? Seriously?”

  She sighed. “Yes. My parents didn’t approve, so we married at the courthouse without telling anyone. It was our secret, just like we were a couple from one of the gothic novels I loved when I was a girl.”

  “Why didn’t they approve?” Other than the guy must have been an asshole if he didn’t want to yell to the entire world that he was lucky enough to be married to Julia Winston.

  “He was from another country. The Ukraine. We met when Maksym was finishing his postgraduate work in engineering at Boise State. My parents wouldn’t even meet him. He was ten years older, and they said he was only interested in me so he could stay in the country. They also worried because we came from different cultures, religions, backgrounds. I think they also were afraid that if he didn’t want to stay in the US, he would take me to the Ukraine and I would leave them alone. I was all they had, and they were older and not well, even then.”

  Parents weren’t supposed to commandeer their children’s lives for their own needs. They also weren’t supposed to tell their young daughters that the only reason a man might want her was to stay in the country.

  “You married him anyway.”

  “It was the one and only time I ever defied them. He made me happy. We were in love and that’s all I could see, so we married the week I graduated. We only spent a week together before Maksym had to go back to his country to wrap up loose ends, then he planned to return permanently.”

  She was silent, her fingers playing along the edge of her comforter.

  “What happened?” he finally asked.

  “He disappeared. He stopped answering my emails and letters, and I couldn’t reach him by phone. His parents were dead but he had a younger sister, and I tried to track her down but couldn’t find her. I only knew her first name, not her husband’s name or surname.”

  He could imagine it would have been challenging to track down a woman in another country.

  “That must have been tough.”

  “He was supposed to be back at the end of the summer to start school again, and he never showed up. No one seemed to know where he was. Not the engineering department, not the foreign student office. I even called the consulate in Seattle but couldn’t find anything out.”

  “That sounds suspicious.”

  “According to official records, he returned to his country, but no one could find record of what happened to him after that. That’s what they claimed, anyway. The man I spoke with there told me that maybe Maksym didn’t want to be found.”

  That must have hurt, especially if her parents had convinced her the man didn’t really want her.

  “He said most likely Maksym had a girlfriend at home that he had reunited with. It was a reasonable theory. He did have a girlfriend at home before me and had told me about her. I thought maybe he was right.”

  He heard the echo of old pain in her voice, of self-doubt and rejection. She must have felt so betrayed. He wanted to fly to the Ukraine, find this Maksym dude and drag him back here to make things right.

  No. Jamie didn’t want him anywhere near Haven Point. Maybe he could fly to the Ukraine, find the dude and at least beat him to a bloody pulp for what he had taken from her.

  “Did you have the marriage annulled?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even tell my parents about it. I was too ashamed to tell them they were right about him. They sensed something was wrong but thought I was just sad about breaking up with my first real boyfriend.”

  She gave a rough-sounding laugh, and he reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. After a moment, she turned her hand over, tangling her fingers with his. “I was in a strange sort of limbo. In my heart—and on paper—I was still married, so I didn’t feel like I could date anyone, at least the first few years. Then my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and I moved back to help my mother with him. I didn’t have time to date. That’s the reason it’s been...a while for me.”

  �
�Did you ever find out what happened to your...husband?” He tried not to let his tone convey his disgust at the man.

  “Eventually. About three years ago, I was finally able to make contact through social media with a childhood friend of his, someone he had once mentioned to me.”

  She gave a smile that didn’t conceal the sadness beneath it. “I found out Maksym was killed in a car accident, just a week after returning to the Ukraine. He hadn’t told his sister he was married, so she had no reason to notify me as next of kin. I don’t know why the consulate couldn’t get me that information. It would have saved me years of wondering what I had done wrong.”

  Jamie wanted to gather her close, to kiss away the pain in her voice, the heartache of a young woman who had felt betrayed and unlovable and then had learned she was a widow, and had been for many years.

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

  She pushed her hair away from her face. “It happened. I can’t change it. I grieved at first when I thought he had just used me and then left me for some reason I couldn’t understand. I grieved again after I learned he had been gone all this time and I hadn’t known. Mostly I grieved for all those lost years.

  “I’ve been living in limbo for ten years,” she went on, “first because of Maksym, then while I cared for my parents. I decided a few weeks ago I was tired of it. It was time to break out and embrace life, as I did when I was young.”

  “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job.”

  “I’m trying.”

  They had both suffered early heartache. While he had responded to his pain and guilt over Lisa’s death by becoming even more gregarious on the surface but keeping everyone at arm’s length, Julia had protected herself by cloistering herself away here at home with her elderly, ailing parents, where she was safe.

  He kissed her forehead, wishing he could kiss away all the hurt she had suffered but knowing that would never be enough.

  He started to slide his mouth down to hers but froze when her telephone rang.

  Her eyes looked soft, unfocused. “That will be Andie with the boys.”

  “You’d better get it.”