There would be nothing romantic about taking one with her ex. “Currier’s doesn’t offer sleigh rides on weekdays.”
“They do this week. I made special arrangements with Kirk Jones.”
Special arrangements. What strings had Richard pulled to get the owner of the Christmas tree farm to harness up his horses on a Monday?
Richard held up the thermos. “Hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.”
“I don’t care if it’s champagne.”
“That’s for brunch. At the Firs.”
The Firs was an exclusive resort compound that extended for acres and included everything from hiking trails to outdoor hot tubs and pools surrounded by mountain rock. Cabins were outfitted with luxury furnishings and the dining hall provided feasts prepared by the kind of top chefs Charley only dreamed of hiring.
Now she was doubly tempted.
Don’t do it.
“All I’m asking for is a chance. Just give me today.”
One day, that was all he was asking.
She sighed. “Why did you have to come back?”
“Because I need you.”
“You didn’t need me a year ago when you were boinking Ariel in the bar.”
Richard grimaced. “Charley, I’ve changed. Let me prove it.”
Eating at the Firs was the equivalent of eating at Canlis in Seattle. She had no intention of getting back together with Richard, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him. Just deserts, she concluded. She’d use him like he’d once used her. Then he could see how it felt.
“Okay, I’ll go,” she said. “It’s not going to do you any good, but I’ll go.”
He grinned like she’d just offered to sleep with him. “It’s a beginning.”
Currier’s Tree Farm was rustic and picturesque. The snow-frosted split rail fence along the property was draped with cedar swags and red bows. The big tree in the yard was adorned with lights and huge colored balls and a shawl of snow. Behind the house, the tree farm stretched out with every imaginable kind of holiday tree. Off to the left she saw a stand where visitors could enjoy complimentary hot cider and to the right sat a big, red barn. There, in front of it, stood an old-fashioned sleigh decked out in cedar swags and ribbon. The chestnut draft horses looked equally festive, with jingle bells in their harnesses, their manes and tails braided with red ribbons. One of them stamped a foot. Another let out a soft nicker.
A lean, gray-haired man in winter garb came out of the barn and waved at them. “You’re right on time,” he called to Richard, and motioned for them to join him. “Got a perfect day for a sleigh ride,” he greeted Charley.
“It was nice of you to open for us,” Charley said.
He grinned, a big, broad smile that filled his face. “Anything for lovers.”
Lovers! Was that what Richard had told him? “Not exactly,” Charley said, frowning. “We’re exes.”
That made Kirk Jones’s bushy gray eyebrows shoot up and Richard’s mouth turn down.
“Oh, well,” Kirk said, and then cleared his throat. “It’s a great day for a sleigh ride.”
“No matter who it’s with,” Charley said, ignoring Richard’s helping hand and climbing into the sleigh.
Kirk had provided a plaid wool blanket and Richard spread it across her legs.
“Thanks. Lover,” she said with some asperity.
“You can’t blame me because people jump to conclusions,” he said.
“Did you give him a little push?”
“No. I told him the truth.”
Charley cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And what was that?”
“That this is for a special lady. No lie.” He uncorked the thermos and pulled two disposable cups from his coat pocket.
As he poured she remembered how good he’d always been at romantic gestures—creating a dish and naming it after her, taking her over the mountains to Seattle one year to look at Christmas lights and then spending the night in a downtown hotel, hiding a bit of anniversary bling under her pillow.
What romantic things had he done for Ariel?
He handed over her hot chocolate. Then he poured himself a cup and capped the thermos. “To new beginnings,” he said, and raised his cup to her.
She said nothing in return, just took a sip and looked away.
“Or the hope of new beginnings,” Richard amended.
In your dreams, Charley thought, and downed some more.
Kirk was up in the sleigh now. He clicked his tongue and gave the horses’ rumps a gentle slap with the reins and they lurched forward.
Good thing her cocoa was half-gone, or she’d have been wearing it. And that would have been a shame because it was delicious. This was no instant stuff, she could tell. It had been made with cream and fine Dutch chocolate. Chocolate, the way to a girl’s heart.
But not this girl’s. Richard would never find his way back to hers, not even with a GPS made of solid Sweet Dreams dark.
Still, she decided, she might as well enjoy the ride.
There was plenty to enjoy. The sleigh ride was everything it should be. They wooshed past fir and pine trees clad in frosty white and open fields that beckoned them to come play in the snow, and all the while the sleigh bells on the horses’ harnesses jingled. The air was crisp and Charley could see her breath but the cocoa and the blanket kept her warm. Meanwhile, Richard was looking at her like he was a starving man and she a six-course meal. The best salve in the world for wounded pride.
Except it had been Richard who’d wounded her pride in the first place. Starvation was too good for him.
“This is perfect, isn’t it?” he said, and placed an arm around her shoulders.
She slid out from under it. “Almost.”
He was smart enough not to ask what kept it from being perfect.
They turned onto a path that led down a small incline and took them under a canopy of snowy tree boughs. This was magical. Charley sighed and leaned back against the seat cushions.
Up front Kirk was crooning a song about lovely weather for a sleigh ride.
“With you,” Richard whispered. “Aw, Charley, there’s no one like you.”
“You’re right,” she agreed.
“I’m just sorry I had to learn that the hard way.”
“Yes, you are a sorry man,” she said, making him frown. And that made her snicker.
* * *
After a brunch that involved several glasses of champagne she’d switched from snickering to giggling.
“I drank too much,” she realized as he drove her home.
“Maybe a little,” he said.
“Why did you let me drink so much champagne?” She groaned. “I’m going to have the mother of all headaches later.”
“Well, we can fix that,” he said. “You just need some water, and lucky for you I’ve got Perrier.”
She eyed him. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“And then some,” he replied with a smile.
She shivered, but not because of what his smile did to her. She’d gotten chilled on the sleigh ride, that was the problem.
“How about I build you a fire?” he offered as they pulled up in front of the house that used to be theirs.
All she needed was him in her house building a fire. “I don’t think so. I have things to do.” Except after their gargantuan meal and those glasses of champagne, all she wanted to do was take a nap. She got out of the car before he could come around and let her out. “Thanks, Richard,” she said, and shut the door.
He got out, too, and held up the green bottle. “Water. Remember?”
“I think I can manage to turn on the faucet.”
“This tastes better,” he said, and followed her up the walk. Like a bad smell.
She opened the door and before she could tell him goodbye and close it in his face he’d slipped in.
* * *
Ella returned home from running errands to find a village of dishes in the sink and the water still turned off. Jake’s voic
e and the sound of his guitar strumming drifted down to her. Great. He’d forgotten to fix the sink.
She marched up the stairs and into his room. There he sat on the bed, wearing jeans and T-shirt, his feet bare—a gorgeous country balladeer with tousled dark hair, looking good enough for a CD cover and completely oblivious to the rest of the world. Once upon a time Ella had thought that was so cute. Now she just thought it was irresponsible.
Tiny, who’d been lying at his feet, enthralled, bounded up at the sight of her and came over, tail wagging. Jake’s singing stopped and his hands froze on the guitar strings. He turned his head, his expression both guilty and surprised. “You’re home already?”
“It’s 5:20,” she informed him. “You said you were going to fix the sink today.”
“I was. I am.”
“Well, it’s not fixed. I’m going to call a plumber.”
He set the guitar on the bed. “I’ll get the stuff right now and have it fixed in an hour.”
“The hardware store closes in ten minutes.”
“I can make it.”
She frowned but said nothing. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him to take care of this. Thank God no one was coming to see the house tonight.
By the time he returned from the hardware store she’d changed into her jeans and a sweater and was heating up leftover chicken soup.
“That smells good,” he said.
He’d always loved her chicken soup. These days, though, they didn’t share food.
“Fix the sink and I’ll give you some.”
He grinned and spread his tools on the floor—a wrench, a flashlight, some sort of hose and a bowl he’d gotten from the cupboard.
“That’s all you need?” she asked.
“It’s a simple job. All I gotta do is replace the flex hose for the cold-water line. I’ll need you to hold the flashlight, though.”
Assuming she’d be there (like he’d always assumed), he opened the doors below the sink, got on his knees and crawled in, taking the bowl with him. She turned off the soup and picked up the flashlight.
“What’s the bowl for?” she asked, trying to ignore the sight of his finely crafted behind.
“To catch whatever water is left in the line. Hey, where are you?”
“I’m here.” She got down on her knees, too, and aimed the flashlight at the pipe.
“I need you to come in here farther. Shine the light on the hose. Right there.”
She came in farther. And now there they were, side by side under the sink, closer than they’d been in a year. His spicy aftershave reached out to her, bringing back memories of his kisses. She could see the play of his muscles as he worked the wrench. She’d never realized how quickly it got hot under a kitchen sink.
Now the old hose was off. “Hand me the other hose,” he said.
Feeling a little like a nurse in an operating room, she handed it over. “Scalpel, doctor,” she cracked.
“That’s me. Dr. Fix-it.”
Too bad he couldn’t have fixed what was wrong with them.
It didn’t take long to connect the new flex hose, but that was long enough for her to entertain all kinds of ridiculous thoughts that a divorced woman shouldn’t invite into her mind, at least not about her ex.
He gave the wrench one final twist. “There, just like new.” Now he turned to her and his easy smile gave way to something else, a look she knew well, one that always led straight to the bedroom. “Anyone ever tell you that you look good under a sink?”
The gift of blarney. Jake O’Brien had it in spades.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re full of it?” she replied, and backed out.
Tiny, who had been sitting there watching the proceedings, gave a woof. Then they heard the front door opening and the sound of voices drifted into the kitchen. With another woof, Tiny was off down the hall.
“Anyone here?” called Axel Fuchs, their Realtor. “Tiny, down!”
Ella stared at Jake in wide-eyed panic. “Axel!” She scrambled to her feet and hurried down the hall.
Sure enough, there he was, suave as usual in his business clothes and camel-hair overcoat. Axel was a tall, slim man with blond hair and strong Germanic features. He always dressed to the nines and could have posed for the cover of Gentleman’s Quarterly. Ella was very aware of her grubby jeans and messy hair. Even more so looking at the well-dressed couple he had in tow. They appeared to be in their late forties and practically smelled of money. A potential sale.
And there was Jake in the messy kitchen with tools on the floor and a dead kitchen hose. She’d get him to ditch all that while the couple was looking around upstairs. She thought of the rumpled, unmade bed Jake had been sitting on. Ugh. Still, it was better than letting them see the kitchen mess.
Tiny was doing his best to welcome the newcomers. Ella grabbed him by the collar. “No, Tiny. Down. Don’t worry, he won’t bite,” she assured the woman, who had ducked behind her husband.
“But does he chew?” the man asked, looking around suspiciously, as if checking for damage.
“No, he’s a well-behaved dog,” Ella said.
The woman was relaxing now. “Something smells good.”
“Oh, I was just heating up some soup,” Ella said, smoothing her hair. And repairing our leaky faucet.
It was so embarrassing getting caught like this. Normally she wouldn’t have even been here. Neither of them would. Axel preferred the owners to be gone when he showed a house. Why hadn’t he let them know he was coming?
“I love to cook,” the woman volunteered. “Let’s see the kitchen first.” And before Ella could stop her, she was off down the hall.
Once they were in the kitchen, Ms. Potential Buyer came to a halt at the sight of Jake gathering up his tools and the dead flex hose. “Oh.”
Oh…no. “Just a little leak,” Ella said, willing Jake to take his hose and scram.
The man, who’d said nothing so far, grunted. Ella didn’t know much about real estate but she did know that grunts were not good.
“Let’s go see the rest of the house,” Axel said smoothly. “It really is in excellent condition.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” the man said, and that was worse than the grunt.
They went down the hall and Ella shot an angry look at Jake.
“What?”
“You had all day to fix that sink,” she hissed.
“I was working on a song.”
“Well, I hope it was a good one because it might have cost us a sale.”
“There’ll be other buyers,” he said.
“When? Darn it, Jake! That was the only thing I asked you to do. Why couldn’t you have done it?”
“I did. Just now.”
There was no point in talking to him. He was hopeless. She hurried after Axel and the couple. They were in the living room now, looking around. “We recently painted in here,” she said.
“Mmm,” the woman murmured.
“We’ve taken excellent care of the house,” Ella continued.
The husband responded with another grunt and Axel quickly said, “Let me show you the bedrooms.” His clients started up the stairs and Ella got ready to follow them. “Why don’t you wait down here,” he suggested.
“Oh.” Feeling frustrated and foolish, Ella sat on the couch with an issue of Martha Stewart Living and hoped against hope that the couple would forget what they’d seen in the kitchen. They probably wouldn’t, though, thanks to Jake. At this rate they were going to be here forever, stuck in limbo.
Axel and the buyers came back downstairs and took another trip out to the kitchen. The woman was smiling politely, but her husband looked like he’d had a close encounter with the Grinch. Another five minutes and they were out the door.
“I’ll be right with you,” Axel called after them.
Ella was at his side in a minute. “Did they like it?”
“Most of it. I’m afraid the leaky sink didn’t make a good impression. Neither did Jake’s bedroom. Ella, e
veryone wants to buy something that looks like a picture from a magazine. You two have to keep on top of things.”
That stung. She was trying to keep on top of things. It was that ball and chain she was no longer married to who was messing up her perfect house. “I have been,” she protested. “I had no way of knowing the sink was going to break. And I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I told Jake I was, this afternoon,” Axel said.
“You did?” Jake had known all afternoon and he hadn’t gotten the sink fixed? She was going to strangle him with a string of Christmas lights.
“He didn’t tell you?”
Ella shook her head.
Axel frowned. “That guy is a disaster.”
Ella sighed. “He is.”
“What did you ever see in him?” Axel wondered, and then before she could say anything, added, “I’ll see what I can do with Mr. and Mrs. Winters and get back to you.”
She thanked him and shut the door with a weary sigh.
Now Jake was coming down the hallway. “Well, did they like it?”
“They might have, if they hadn’t seen the leaky sink,” Ella said frostily.
“Hey, sinks leak.”
“Yes, they do. And Realtors call.”
His cheeks took on a ruddy tinge.
Ella pointed a finger at him. “You knew we had people coming to look at the house. Axel called you this afternoon.”
“It was late afternoon.”
“That is beside the point,” Ella said, throwing up her hands in frustration.
“No, it’s not. It must’ve been four when he called. I was right in the middle of working on a song. I didn’t want to lose it.”
She was about to lose it. “So you just played on. What did you think, Jake, that the fairies were going to come and fix the sink and wash the pots and pans?”
“I was going to get to it,” he said sullenly.
“But you didn’t, and that probably cost us a sale.” Ella marched back to the kitchen and Jake followed, with Tiny bringing up the rear, whining.
Ella pulled her pan of soup off the stove. “Here, you can eat all of this. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Now Jake was beside her, “El, I’m sorry. I should have fixed the sink right away.”
He should have done a lot of things. Ella kept her back to him.
Merry Ex-Mas Page 6
