Nothing he could say would change her mind. He suddenly knew it. Gen Beaumont was an unstoppable force when she wanted to be—and apparently, right now she had a goal and wouldn’t let anything sway her from it.
“When this comes back to bite you in the ass, just remember I tried to warn you.”
She didn’t stick her tongue out at him, but he had a feeling it was a close thing. “And when I bring together two people who love each other and help them find their happy-ever-after, you remember that I was absolutely right all along and that I did a wonderful thing, while you stood there with your callous, bitter, shriveled old soul, prophesying doom and gloom.”
At her impassioned words, he laughed. He couldn’t help himself. The sound was rough and rusty, startling a magpie that must have been overwintering in the tree above Gen’s head. As he flew off, a huge clump of snow fell from the branch he vacated and landed right smackdab on the little puff of her beanie and trickled down her cheek, which only made him laugh harder.
She narrowed her gaze at him, and before he realized what she intended, she scooped up a handful of snow and chucked it at him. By sheer luck, the loose snowball hit him on the cheek just below his eye patch. Ice crystals clung to his skin, so cold it stung, but it was somehow life-affirming, too, in a weird sort of way.
“My shriveled, bitter old soul and I did not appreciate that,” he said, wiping it away with the sleeve of his coat. She was fighting a smile, he could see, even as she pulled off her hat to shake the snow out. She had serious hat hair but he still wanted to run his fingers through it… .
“Tough,” she retorted. “You deserved it. You probably trained that bird to dump that snow on me, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I have a whole battalion of forest creatures waiting to obey my every command.”
“Figures.”
A little snow clung to the arch of her eyebrow and stuck in her hair and he couldn’t resist reaching out, brushing it away.
When he lowered his hand, she swallowed hard, and he could feel his pulse race at the expression in her eyes. Genevieve Beaumont was staring at him as if he was all she wanted wrapped and waiting under her Christmas tree. He desperately wanted to kiss her. Just toss that hat into the snow, reach out and capture her cold lips with his.
He could warm her. Warm them both. Judging by their kiss the other night, if he touched her again, they would soon be generating enough heat to melt the whole mountainside.
No. He couldn’t kiss her. He was no better for Genevieve Beaumont than Trey Evans was for his Jenna.
He shoved his hand in his pocket to keep from reaching for her and stepped away, back to safety.
“That looks like the last of the snow. I’ll try to keep my forest minions out of your way.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
He turned abruptly and headed back toward the recreation center. Only when he was almost there did he see his sister standing by the window inside, watching the whole interaction.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Where’s my mommy?”
A question designed to spark panic in all but the most calm of hearts. Genevieve looked helplessly down at the little girl beside her, gazing up at her out of big, distressed dark eyes.
“She’s still out there on the mountain, Claudia. Remember? We talked about this. She’s skiing with your daddy and with your big sister. Your dad has a very cool chair he gets to ski on. You and I are having fun here with our hot chocolate and our coloring.”
“I want my mommy.”
And Genevieve thought things had been going so well. She was far from an expert on children and could probably count on one hand the in-depth interactions she’d had with any. Volunteering to stay behind with little Claudia Brooks had really been an act of self-protective desperation. When confronted with two things that scared her—the terrifying height of ski lifts or the only-slightlyless-terrifying prospect of a few hours entertaining a very cute little girl—she had picked the one with the least potential to cause death or serious maiming.
It had seemed like the smart choice, but now, a few hours in, she was running out of ways to entertain Claudia, who seemed to be growing increasingly restless.
“They should be back soon,” she said, a little desperately. “Should we put our coats on again and take a walk outside so we can look for them?”
They had walked out twice and had watched Joe Brooks in his sit-ski once. Later, they found Tonya and Marisol riding the magic carpet, a beginner conveyorbelt lift that worked much like an airport moving sidewalk only going uphill.
“No outside.” Claudia stuck out her bottom lip.
Okay. Genevieve scanned the little corner of the ski lodge they had taken over as their base. Her gaze landed on the almost-new box of crayons. “We could color another picture for Mommy and Daddy.”
“No.”
She pointed to her tablet computer and its fabulous entertainment offerings. “How about a game? Or we could watch another Sesame Street?”
Claudia’s cornucopia of colorful barrettes quivered as she shook her head, braids flying. The girl really was adorable, with those huge eyes and dimples and all that beautiful café-au-lait skin, like her mother. Hanging around with her for the past few hours had really been quite entertaining.
There had even been a minute or two—when Claudia had insisted on sitting on Gen’s lap while they read a Dr. Seuss book she hastily downloaded on her tablet—that Gen had felt a strange, soft, completely unexpected tenderness tug at her heart at the small, warm weight in her arms.
Claudia had this funny habit of playing with Gen’s hair when she sat on her lap, almost as if she didn’t know she was doing it, twisting it around and around her finger.
Just now, Gen was running out of options. She picked up Claudia’s cute doll, all dressed up in a darling aprésski outfit of her own, and danced her a little in the air, side to side. “We could play with Penelope more. I bet she’s getting tired of just hanging around, doing nothing,” she tried.
“No.”
That bottom lip started to quiver ominously, and panic skittered through Genevieve.
Okay, what would you like to do? she wanted to demand, but she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything except to make them both more frustrated.
Claudia yawned widely and blinked her eyes. Gen wanted to give herself a head slap. Oh. Of course. Little creatures sometimes needed naps. She should have realized.
The crowded, noisy ski lodge didn’t seem the ideal place for a snooze, and Gen had no idea how to accomplish that particular feat amid all the bustle.
She finally settled into a comfortable armchair in a fairly secluded corner near the window, providing beautiful views up the slopes, then held her arms out to Claudia. “Why don’t you sit right here and I’ll tell you a story.”
After a pause, Claudia grabbed her doll, ski parka and all, and climbed onto Genevieve’s lap and promptly shoved her thumb in her mouth. Wishing for a warm, cuddly blanket, Gen settled for pulling her wool coat over both of them.
“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a castle set on a huge hill,” she began.
Claudia pulled her thumb from her mouth and pointed out the window. “That hill?”
“Why, yes. I believe it was. This princess didn’t like snow and she really hated waking up with icicles hanging from her toes. Her days were spent trying on new dresses or brushing her hair or painting her toenails.”
Claudia held out her little hand to show the vibrant pink polish there. Though barely three, the girl was definitely a fashionista.
“And painting her fingernails,” Genevieve said with a smile. “She thought she was happy with her life. Surely no other princess lived in such a beautiful castle and had such stunning dresses to wear or could paint her toenails such spectacular colors. But one day the princess woke up. After shaking the icicles off her toes, just like usual, she started to try on another new dress and realized she didn’t want to wear any of the
dresses in her closet. They were beautiful and she still loved the bright colors and the silky feeling when she slid them on her head. But when she was wearing one of the dresses, she couldn’t climb a tree or ride her horse or do somersaults down the mountainside, end over end until she reached the bottom.”
Claudia smiled a little, though her eyes were halfclosed as she listened. Genevieve lowered her voice to a slow, soothing cadence and proceeded to spin a tale about the princess’s longing for adventure, for something more, and the silly steps she took to find it.
After a few more moments, she looked down to find Claudia’s eyes closed, her chin drooping onto her chest. Gen stopped talking in the middle of telling about the princess trying to fly and just enjoyed the moment.
She had never really envisioned having children. Oh, eventually she supposed it would have been required of her and Sawyer, to carry on the Danforth legacy, but that sort of future had seemed nebulous at best, years in the future.
Now, as she held this darling little girl in her arms, she had a fierce urge for a child of her own. Someone who would love her as she was and wouldn’t find her lacking.
Perhaps a little boy with vivid blue eyes… . The thought made her blush and quickly shy away from thoughts of Dylan Caine.
After a few moments, her arms started to ache. She shifted in the chair for a more comfortable position and was relieved when Claudia slept on. She thought about trying to settle the little girl on the adjacent sofa but she was afraid of waking her. This worked for now.
She might have dozed, but she wasn’t sure how long. When she woke, her arms were just about numb and Charlotte Caine was coming toward her.
“How’s it going in here?” Dylan’s sister asked.
Genevieve pressed a finger to her mouth and pointed to the sleeping girl.
Charlotte winced. “Sorry. I didn’t notice she was asleep,” she whispered.
“She dozed off a little while ago.”
Charlotte took the vacant seat on the sofa. “How did you get roped into babysitting duty?” she whispered.
“Nobody roped anybody into anything. I offered. The truth is, I was kind of glad of the excuse to stay in the warm lodge. I’m not supercrazy about skiing. It’s a height thing.”
Charlotte snickered softly. “Don’t you find that a little ironic, considering your father was one of the original founders of the ski resort?”
Her father had been savvy with investments, saving enough from his fledging law firm to throw wholehearted support behind Harry Lange when he came up with the crazy idea of building the Silver Strike resort, which was now a huge industry that had become the driving force of the Hope’s Crossing economy.
She shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t help it. I’ve never really liked skiing. Sawyer used to make me go with him and I was always miserable.”
She instantly wished she hadn’t said that when Charlotte gave her a surprised, sympathetic look.
“What about you?” she asked quickly. “You’re not skiing?”
Charlotte shrugged out of her parka. She wore a turtleneck underneath that revealed a curvy, attractive figure, a far cry from what she used to look like.
“I injured my ankle this summer, and it’s still not as strong as I’d like it to be. It’s aching a little, so I figured I would take it easy. I went down a few runs but decided that was enough.”
As she tossed her parka over the arm of the sofa, the light glimmered off a huge ring on her left hand. Gen had heard whispers that Charlotte and Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory were taking their relationship to the next level. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen them together the past few days. They were really quite cute together.
For a moment, she was tempted to confide in Charlotte about her thus-far-fruitless effort to find Trey’s exfiancée. She hesitated, not eager to hear Dylan’s sister tell her it was a lousy idea, too.
After a few hours of internet searches the night before, she had found an email address from an obscure school directory at an elementary school near Fort Benning, but she couldn’t locate any kind of corresponding phone number. She had sent an email, not sure if it was even the right person or if the account was still open, but she hadn’t had a response yet.
Before she could ask the other woman her opinion about the wisdom of continuing the search, Charlotte spoke. “I’m glad I caught you alone for a minute, actually,” she said, her voice serious. “I need to ask you something.”
Gen’s arms tensed around the little girl in her arms. Claudia wriggled a little in her sleep, and Gen realized what she was doing and relaxed.
“Oh?” she asked, trying for studied casualness. She had visions of her asking some kind of embarrassingly awkward question, like what are you doing, kissing my brother?
“I was wondering if you have plans tonight,” Charlotte asked.
As usual, her plans revolved around Grandma Pearl’s house. She had finished painting the dining room the night before and had thought about adding a second coat if it needed it. If not, she would continue with the endless effort of steaming off wallpaper in the other rooms.
Considering her biceps throbbed and her hair felt permanently frizzed from that particular activity, she welcomed any excuse to have a break from it.
“Nothing that can’t wait. Why?”
Charlotte fiddled with a loose thread on the wristband of her sweater. “I’m supposed to go to a Christmas party tonight—women only—and was wondering if you might like to come with me. It should be a lot of fun. There’s always good food and wonderful company.”
After Genevieve had shut Charlotte down the last time she asked her to a social event, she would have thought the other woman wouldn’t ask her again.
She didn’t want to turn her down again. She had a feeling their fledgling friendship would die a quick, painful death if she did.
“Sure,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it. “A Christmas party with girl talk sounds fun, especially if it means I don’t have to steam wallpaper off the wall for a few hours.”
Charlotte smiled, looking relieved. “Oh, I’m so glad. I was hoping you could make it, even though it’s short notice. The party starts at seven. Why don’t I pick you up at quarter to, at your grandma Pearl’s house?”
“That sounds great. Thanks.”
Charlotte smiled again and settled into the sofa, her eyes on little Claudia.
“I’ve always considered myself a pretty good judge of character. As a result, I’m not often surprised by people. You are turning out to be…different than I expected.”
She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Are you saying there’s a chance maybe I’m not the spoiled bitch everybody thought?”
Color climbed Charlotte’s cheeks and she gave a shocked little laugh. “I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to say it,” Gen said. “I know how people see me. That I insist on my own way, that I’m demanding, that I ran roughshod over the town leading up to my grand society wedding that never happened.”
Charlotte didn’t deny her claim—confirmation in itself. “You have to admit, you were Bridezilla on steroids.”
“Or worse,” she muttered.
She hated looking back on that time. She couldn’t really explain it, to Charlotte or to herself. That time nearly two years ago seemed a lifetime away. When she looked back, that person seemed like someone else entirely.
“In my heart, I think I knew I was making a huge mistake,” she finally said. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to confess this to Charlotte, but somehow the moment seemed right, here in the lodge, with the soft weight of a sleeping child on her lap.
She admired Charlotte. More than that, she liked her. By asking to spend time together that evening, Charlotte was offering her a tentative friendship and Gen didn’t want to screw it up. She wanted to tell her about how things had been during her engagement, if only to explain that wasn’t all she was.
“I tried to convince myself things
were fine. As I look back, I think I had to focus on making sure every detail of the wedding was flawless—down to the pattern on the china and the hemline on the flower-girl dresses—so that I didn’t have to face the emptiness of our relationship. I guess maybe I thought if we had the ideal fairy-tale wedding, the marriage would have to be perfect, too. Stupid, isn’t it?”
Charlotte didn’t say anything for a long moment. When she did, her question was startling in its boldness.
“Do you have feelings for my brother?’’
Gen inhaled sharply, emotions jumbling through her so quickly she didn’t know how to sort them out.
“Sorry. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. Spence told me to stay out of things and here I am barging in anyway. It’s just…I saw you yesterday by the river. I saw him laughing. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen him laugh like that?”
“I… No.”
“Forever. Oh, he’ll smile once in a while, and he does give this terrible, hard laugh I hate. Genuine laughter, though, has been missing since he came back.”
Again, she didn’t know what to say. Not the most auspicious beginning to a friendship, when she was either spilling her innermost secrets or completely clamming up.
“He almost died, you know,” Charlotte said, her mouth tight and her eyes glimmering. “At one point, the military doctors told us to prepare for the worst as the infection ravaged through him. But he was stronger than they gave him credit for. I always knew he was. He came through it, even though they couldn’t save his eye.”
She had wondered about his vision. He sometimes referred bitterly to not having a hand but she had rarely heard him discuss his eye.
“He’s been through so much. Though he doesn’t talk about it, I know he carries the weight of terrible things inside him. He lost five good friends in the explosion that injured him and for a while this summer, I was afraid he…” Her voice trailed off and her mouth pressed into a line.
“That he what?”
She didn’t answer. “I want so much for him to be able to find joy again. To laugh like he used to. To move forward with his life.”
Christmas In Snowflake Canyon Page 19
