Enchanting Christmas (Impossible Dream, Book 2)

by Beth Ciotta

“It was,” Chrissy said. “I didn’t fully get it, so I mentally muted the sounds—the voices, the instruments—and tried to experience the event through my daughter’s silent world. Even dismissing the lively and exquisite music, the festive visuals—scenery, costuming, choreography—were delightful and sparked my own sense of childlike wonder. Maybe Mel’s shimmying was inspired by the movement of the professional dancers as opposed to feeding off of the vibrations from the audio system.” An audio system installed by Mason and RAVI. “Still…”

  Mel’s uncoordinated chair dancing had been a game changer for Chrissy. She’d known at that moment that she had to conquer her aversion to music, or at least curb it. Depriving her daughter of concerts and festive dances was no longer an option. Yes, Chrissy had experienced deep melancholy when she’d homed in on the orchestra’s string section, but that was her problem, not Mel’s.

  In another life, in her childhood dreams, that could have been Chrissy on that stage, seducing the strings with her fingers and bow. Wooing the world with heart-stirring song. Instead she’d chosen motherhood over a demanding career. And then later, she’d turned her back on music altogether. Again, her choice.

  ‘The grudge’, as her friends called it, was born of resentment and bone-deep sadness and had little to do with Mason Rivers. She knew that now. Maybe she’d known it all along. Blaming Mason for the bulk of her misery had been easier than facing her inner demons.

  “Mason still plays guitar,” Chrissy said. “He still lives and breathes music whether he’s designing audio systems or sitting in with a band. On top of that he’s a tech head and he’s loaded—not that I care, but it’s a bonus. If anyone can enrich Mel’s life, it’s Mason. Plus he has a dog. A dog and a daddy for Christmas. Mel will be in heaven.”

  “And that will make you happy,” Sinjun said.

  “Yeah,” Chrissy said with a convinced nod. “It will.” Impossible dream granted. She started to say something more but paused when she heard another female voice snapping at Sinjun in the background.

  Sinjun excused herself a minute then came back with, “Can I call you back later, Chrissy? I’m sorry but…duty calls.”

  “I don’t think I like your boss.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Chrissy frowned. “No need to call me back tonight. Unless you need or want to talk. You know. About you and your life?”

  “Just remember what I said about happiness,” Sinjun said before signing off.

  “It comes from within,” Chrissy said, wondering now about her friend’s quality of life. Pensive, she slid her phone in her back pocket and returned to the window. A motion detector light had flickered on and now the futility of Mason’s efforts was clear to see.

  Even so, he continued to shovel.

  All because she’d invited him to meet her parents.

  He had to know the introductions would be tense. She’d even warned him about the ass-kickings potentially coming his way. He’d simply promised to do his best to smooth things over.

  “I’ll be damned if I’ll fumble this second chance,” he’d told Chrissy before venturing into the storm.

  “Are you my path to pure joy, Mason?” Or merely a pleasant distraction?

  They came from different sides of the tracks—rich boy, poor girl—and when did that ever work out on a forever-and-always scale? Unlike Bella, Chrissy had little faith in real-life fairy tales. Regardless, Chrissy had been floating on a cloud of highly intoxicating infatuation ever since she’d reconnected with Mason in Denver.

  When he’d walked into the bakery she’d felt a full-body zap.

  When he’d pulled her into his arms… That kiss, that amazing four-alarm kiss, had catapulted her back to Napa, back to their fantasy week, back to the girl she’d been before harsh realities bitch-slapped her zest.

  That kiss rekindled her lust for life and his subsequent baring-of-the-soul reinforced her love for the man.

  Given Mason’s happy-go-lucky nature, she’d been shocked to learn of his emotional hardships. Apparently even rich boys had baggage. Chrissy couldn’t imagine feeling like an outcast in her own family. Or being looked over in favor of her older brother, Zeke. She didn’t have a lot of money, but her life was rich with family and friends who loved her for who she was, even on her grumpiest or most rebellious days.

  She couldn’t blame Mason for wanting what she had—a warm and loving family. On the other hand, the pressure to fill a void in him was daunting. Especially given her own discontent.

  Two seconds from calling Mason in from the storm, her butt rang, prompting her to snatch her phone from her rear pocket. She’d already gotten a text from Georgie letting her know she and Melody were safe with Bella and Savage, so it had to be Angel. Only it wasn’t.

  “Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes and no. Everything’s fine here, but there’s a problem with the windbreaks at the Morgan Ranch. As you know, Arlo is shorthanded and Bryce is stuck in town. Your dad and Zeke rode over to help. Only a small portion of the herd is at risk, still… If this storm turns worse…”

  “Don’t borrow trouble, Mom. Dad’s a top-notch cattleman and you know Zeke in storms. Fearless, competent, lucky.” Even so Chrissy’s pulse kicked.

  “You’re right, of course, dear. The men will be fine. The livestock will be fine. This storm doesn’t compare to that catastrophic blizzard two years back. Nevertheless, it’s disrupting. I’m sorry, dear, but we need to reschedule the family meeting.”

  “Another day won’t make a difference,” Chrissy said, hoping she didn’t sound as disappointed as she felt. “I’m running into some weather-related issues myself.”

  “Are you still in town? On the road?”

  “I’m at Angel’s.”

  “Good. Stay there. Spend the night and enjoy your friend’s company. Melody’s safe with Bella and Georgie. You stay safe with Angel. Do not drive in this storm. I’m worried enough about your dad and Zeke. Promise me you’ll stay put.”

  She glanced out the window and saw Mason throwing in the towel. “I promise. But Mom—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know as soon as your dad and brother are home safe. Meanwhile I’m on pins and needles wondering what you need to talk to us about. I know you were thrown by Mel’s letter to Santa and I know I added an element of pressure by bringing up pure joy. I have to ask, sweetheart, is this about your music?”

  Heart pounding, Chrissy moved toward the door as Mason moved toward the house. “No, Mom. But it is about passion.”

  “Oh. I… Is this about a man? Are you seeing someone? Oh, Christmas, honey—”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this on the phone.”

  “How serious is it? Is it someone we know? Someone you just met?”

  “Mom—”

  “I know. Not on the phone. I’m just so glad it’s something good. I won’t say a word to your dad. I’d rather he hear it from you. Enjoy your evening with Angel, honey.”

  The call ended before Chrissy could correct her mom on several counts. She chalked it up to a blessing in disguise. Her mom had enough worries with her husband and son braving the elements to save another man’s cattle. She didn’t need to know Chrissy would be spending the night with her former lover instead of her longtime girlfriend. She didn’t need to fret about the unexpected intrusion of her granddaughter’s father. Not now at any rate.

  Chrissy pocketed her phone as the door swung open and Mason stomped in, red-faced and winded.

  “What the hell?” he snapped. “I checked the weather this morning. This storm was a full day out.”

  “We’re talking about Mother Nature, Mason. Not always predictable. Ask my brother some time. On second thought, don’t. He’s got more stories than a library.”

  “You’re not going to like this,” he said while shrugging off his snow-crusted coat.

  “We’re snowed in.”

  “I managed a path, but it’s still coming down and the road’s a mess. I’ll g
et you home—safely—but not on time.”

  Thoughtful. Bold. Caring. She wanted to hug him, dammit. Instead she folded her arms and backed away so he could move out of the chilly foyer.

  “A noble offer,” she said as she backed into the living room, “but unnecessary. My mom called and canceled our meeting. My dad and brother are tied up at a neighbor’s plus she doesn’t want me on the roads. She told me to stay put.”

  Mason raised a brow while rubbing warmth into his hands. “Where does she think you are?”

  Chrissy flushed. “I told her I was at Angel’s house and she just assumed I meant her new place in town.”

  “She thinks you’re with Angel.”

  “I didn’t correct her because I didn’t want to explain about you over the phone.”

  Hands on hips, he angled his head and frowned. “So we spend tonight in secrecy? Just like that week in the valley?”

  The back of her knees connected with the couch, making her feel trapped. She hugged herself tighter and raised a defiant chin. “It’s not the same.”

  “It feels the same. Like we’re sneaking behind their backs. I don’t like it.”

  Something about his exasperation tempered her own. She blew out a breath and closed the space between them. “We’re not sneaking behind their backs. We’re saving them from a restless night’s sleep. As soon as my mom learns who you are, she’s going to consider your family’s wealth and all sorts of potential ramifications. She’s already worried about my dad and brother and Mr. Morgan’s livestock. I didn’t want to give her anything more to obsess on. Not tonight.”

  She gazed up into his eyes, her heart and mind skipping back to the most breathtaking week of her life. A spontaneous break from her then intensely structured studies. Mason had seduced her with easy charm and wickedly impressive musicianship. She’d fallen hard and fast and apparently forever because her most fervent urge right now was to kiss him into tomorrow.

  “Let’s look at this storm as a Godsend,” she plowed on. “A night to ourselves to sort things out. To talk and… I don’t know. Get to know one another again. Only full disclosure this time. I know you’re trying to make up for lost time, but it’s too much, too fast. You, us, now—it feels like a fairy tale, like that week in Napa. In the long term, I need real. Melody needs real.”

  Mason smoothed his hands over her shoulders then gently pulled her into his arms. “How’s this feel?”

  “Cold,” she answered honestly even as she melted against him. “You’re a block of ice, Mason.”

  “I can think of a thing or two to warm me up.”

  “I bet you can.”

  “One would involve kissing and you said—”

  “I take it back.” She cradled the sides of his gorgeous face and pulled him down for a tender kiss. As soon as their mouths fused, she burned. Tender had been a nice thought, but deep and hot came naturally.

  Chrissy gave over to the passion, the need and longing, and the sheer wonder of kissing the man who owned her soul. The father of her child.

  This kiss shattered the last of her resistance and summoned whimsical images of elves gluing together broken dreams and sewing the tattered fabric of happy.

  When they broke for air, Mason dropped his forehead to hers and she placed a hand to his chest. His heart pounded like a tympani drum against her palm. “How did that feel?” he asked in a tone that seduced her senseless.

  Chrissy’s heart sang. “Real.”

  Chapter Eight

  He was heading up the stairs as she was coming down.

  “Did you video chat with your cousin and Melody?” he asked. “Everything okay over there? Electricity? Heat?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, and yes.” They met midway in the stairwell, electronic tablets in hand, Chrissy one step above Mason. “What about you? Were you able to check in on Rush? Is he okay?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s cold up there.”

  He jerked a thumb. “It’s cold down there. Something’s up with the heater. Obviously. I checked it out but I’ll be damned if I can pinpoint the problem.”

  “No wood for the fireplace downstairs,” she said. “But upstairs…”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t notice? Master bedroom. An electric fireplace with a heater. Angel’s always cold. Thin blooded, I guess. Baxter, her second husband, installed that luxury for her comfort.”

  “Sounds like a nice guy. I’m thinking we should take advantage of his generosity.”

  “I’m thinking the same.”

  “I bought food and wine,” he said. “I’ll run down and bring up dinner.”

  “I’ll fire up the heater.”

  They split off without another word, but Mason’s mind raced ahead.

  Bed, wine, a romantic fire. Who cares if the flames are artificial? She just invited me to crash in a bedroom. The only room with heat. Which means she essentially invited me to sleep with her.

  At least that’s where Mason’s head went.

  “You’re thinking with your dick, bro.”

  Mason wasn’t sure whether that was his conscience or Jimmy talking. Either way, he couldn’t argue. “Turn it down a notch, Rivers.”

  He deliberately slowed his pace. Tripping over his own two feet in haste and breaking his fool neck was not the preferred next scene in this unfolding saga. Enchanting Christmas Joy Mooney, his one true love and the mother of his child, was the preferred next step.

  She wanted real. He wanted magic.

  “Real magic,” he said to himself while gathering food and drink. “Maybe I should write a letter to Santa. All I want for Christmas is a wedding in Nowhere.”

  Whoa.

  He paused, stunned by the clarity of that spontaneous realization. He wanted to marry Christmas Mooney. No deep thought. No hesitation. A natural progression in their whirlwind, albeit inconsistent, affair. He’d been an idiot, allowing five years to slide by, assuming she’d gone on her merry way, landing a chair in some metropolitan symphonic orchestra, rather than somehow, someway verifying her circumstance. To learn she’d been in Nebraska all along and the mother of his child, no less. Oh, yeah. He’d been knocked for a loop. Now that he’d settled into his new reality, his heart’s desire was clear.

  All I want for Christmas…

  Problem was Mason was pretty sure he was on Santa’s naughty list. He’d broken more than a few women’s hearts, nursed far too many hangovers, disappointed his mom and pissed off his dad—all in the last eight months. His efforts as an off-site representative for RAVI had been half-hearted at best, so that counted as another black mark. Personal discontent was no excuse for shabby professionalism.

  When he’d been at the helm, filling his brother’s shoes, at least he’d given the job his all. Not his personal dream but it was his personal best. Stepping down had merely given him an excuse to flounder. Several months of wallowing and wondering: What the hell am I doing with my life? He’d told Chrissy he was still looking for his dream gig. True. On a dare he’d even applied for his dream gig via an internet site geared to finding people’s dream jobs, dream homes, dream vacations… Another half-assed effort on his part. He’d only filled out a third of the data form, if that.

  Armed with a loaded shopping bag, Mason paused at the stairwell landing. The girl who’d nudged him into applying at Impossible Dream had been the same girl who’d stood him up at the Mile High Christmas Extravaganza. If not for her, he would’ve opted for hanging out in the sound booth rather than sitting in the audience. If not for her he wouldn’t have been waiting… He wouldn’t have seen Melody… Or run into Chrissy.

  “Crazy coincidence.” Absolutely. Still, Mason thought as he continued up the stairs, what if by applying for an impossible dream he’d kick-started some cosmic chain of events? What if being a husband and father was his dream gig?

  “You’d be damn good at it, Slick,” his brother chimed in from beyond.

  Yeah. I would. He knew it a
s sure as he knew the sun would rise in the morning. As sure as he knew how to ring out microphones, program a digital sound console, and how to replicate and riff off of Hendrix’s version of the Star Spangled Banner.

  If not his dream gig, Mason thought as he entered the bedroom and saw Chrissy snuggled in blankets, marrying and caring for this woman and their child gave him purpose. All he knew was that being here felt right. And being with her felt even better.

  Smiling at his approach, Chrissy rubbed her mittened hands together. “I’m starving. Let’s see what you have in that mystery bag, Slick.”

  He stopped cold. “Why did you call me that?”

  “What? Slick? I don’t know. It just came out. Why?”

  “That’s what my brother called me.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Wow.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “I swear it just popped out.”

  Mason shook off a shiver, set his phone and tablet on the nightstand and passed Chrissy the shopping bag. “That’s okay.” He sat on the edge of the bed, only inches from her, and unlaced his boots. “I swear Jimmy’s been in my head all day. Sometimes it feels like he’s looking out for me. Sounds crazy, huh?”

  “No. Bella, my cousin, says that about her mom. We lost Aunt Laura last year. A shock and a blow to us all, but especially Bella and Uncle Archie.”

  “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “A stroke. And she was only in her mid-fifties. Just goes to show how unpredictable and fragile life can be,” she said as she raided the bag. “One minute you’re here—”

  “—the next you’re gone. A sure-fire reason to live in the moment.”

  “And to the fullest.”

  “No wasted opportunities.”

  “No bullshit.”

  Mason grinned as their gazes locked. “You always were a straight-shooter. Just one of the things I loved about you.”

  She flushed. “Here. You uncork the wine,” she said, passing him the bottle then nabbing the two crystal goblets he’d found in the cabinet.

  “No cork. Screw cap,” he said. “More and more wineries are going that route these days.” He poured them both a modest serving of merlot.