by Kait Nolan
But he didn't press his advantage. With one last stroke of his thumb that left her palm tingling, he let her go. "Shall we wrap?"
The nerves which had knotted up her belly loosened. "You want ribbon or paper?"
"Paper. My bows look like Kip's chew toys."
"Paper it is, then." Tara gathered up the supplies and brought them into the living room. Despite her vague disappointment, she liked that he didn't push. It'd been so long since she'd played this game, and she'd never played it all that much to begin with. She'd been too focused on her training to spend much time on dating. She wasn't sure of her footing. For a dancer, who always had her balance, that was a rather scary place to be.
Jace kept up a steady banter during their wrapping session, making her laugh by putting bows in his hair. He was easy to be with. Easy to talk to. Just...easy. Tara didn't feel like she needed to be constantly on guard with him. And that made her realize exactly how much she was on guard the rest of the time. The fact that she could relax around him might've been the best gift he could've given her.
She caught herself looking at his mouth.
Then again...
But maybe he was right to hold off and take things really slow. It would hardly do for him to kiss her now, when they'd just decided she'd stay at the farm for the rest of the holiday. What if it was a dud of a kiss? Then things would be all weird. No. Better to ease into this.
The clock was ticking on toward nine by the time they finished up and headed back out to the farm.
"I absolutely did not mean to abandon your mom with the kids this long."
"She'd have called if she was having problems. She did manage to raise two of us just fine."
"Still."
"Did you have fun today?"
Tara looked over from the driver's seat. "More than I've had in longer than I care to remember."
"Then there's no reason to feel guilty."
"You may sing a different tune if we get back and they're bouncing off the ceiling."
The kids were, in fact, in the middle of a high stakes game of Monopoly with Livia and Evan.
"Ginny's going to bankrupt us all," Livia declared. "Do you have any idea how many times I've landed on Boardwalk? With hotels? I'm in hock up to my eyebrows."
Tara scooped Ginny up and snuggled her into her lap. "I should've warned you. She's ruthlessly competitive at board games. And she should also be finding a stopping place because it's past her bedtime."
"Aw, but there's no school tomorrow."
Livia rolled the dice and ended up at Park Place. "I fold. I don't feel like going through all the hassle of selling my mortgaged properties back to the bank.”
Austin picked up the thick stack of colorful Monopoly money. “I think it’s safe to say Ginny won. As usual.”
Linda wandered in from the kitchen. “Oh you’re back. Did y’all finish your shopping?”
“And wrapping,” Tara pronounced. “Thank you for keeping the kids.”
“We had a good time. Made up a big batch of sugar plums to pass out as gifts to the rest of the family.”
“Did you know they have twenty-six people in their family?” Ginny asked.
“Tw—seriously?” Tara waited for somebody to say they were kidding.
“Counting all the cousins, yep. You’ll meet most of them at Christmas dinner when we all load up and head to the grandparents’,” said Jace. “Everybody within driving distance comes in.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve just boggled my brain. I can’t imagine that many people in one family. You have your own football team.”
"We have our own version of the Egg Bowl at Thanksgiving,” Livia said. “Except instead of the golden egg, we play for Grandma's chess pie. Competition is fierce."
“Since we don’t know any of our cousins, Miss Linda says we can borrow theirs this year,” Ginny said.
Tara felt a pang. “That’s really nice of her. But won’t we be intruding?”
“We’re an always changing motley crew. Family. Friends. Staff. You won’t be the only unfamiliar faces. It’s always the more the merrier at the Applewhites,” Linda said.
So Jace had told her.
“Well, you just let me know what we can do to contribute.”
“Whatever your best side dish is. There will be an army to feed.”
“I can do that.” Tara stood. “C’mon, you two. Time to get ready for bed.”
Ginny made her rounds, doling out hugs to everyone.
Tara thought back to the shy, wounded child she’d met when she first moved back to Mississippi. Over the last eighteen months, Ginny had blossomed. Even Austin, who trusted so rarely, seemed relaxed and happy, grinning as Livia and Jace ruffled his hair.
This. This was the danger of staying here. They were falling in love with this family. Putting down tender roots that would inevitably be yanked free after the holiday when all the goodwill toward men attitude faded. Not that she thought the Applewhites would ever be deliberately cruel. But taking on three veritable orphans for Christmas was a far cry from keeping them as a permanent part of the family. That kind of transience was exactly why Tara had given up everything to keep Austin and Ginny out of the foster system. Because they needed as much permanence and stability as someone could give them. What would the loss of the Applewhites do to them?
“You’re thinking deep thoughts again,” Jace said softly.
“Just tired,” Tara lied. “It was a full day.”
His eyes searched her face and she suspected he saw too much.
“Walk you back?”
She shook her head. “If you come, they’ll stay amped up and Ginny will rope you into a bedtime story marathon. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night everybody!” Ginny announced.
Jace scooped her up and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Peanut. Don’t forget, it’s wreath making tomorrow, We’ll meet bright and early outside the tree barn after breakfast.”
Tara watched the easy way her sister snuggled into him and thought maybe the kids weren’t the only ones falling for this family.
~*~
“There’s snow in those clouds,” Tara declared.
Jace followed her gaze to the slate gray sky. “If it happens, it'll be the first white Christmas in seventy-five years. There are pictures of my grandpa as a boy from the last one. He built a snowman as tall as he was. Just over there in front of the house.”
"Is he still living?"
"Oh yeah. Fit as a fiddle."
She turned her attention back to the wreath frame, nimbly weaving greenery into the wire. "Why doesn't he live at the farm?"
"Well, it's heavy work. Hard on the body. So Grandma forced him into retirement and my dad took over. Eventually it'll come to me. Well, me and Livia, but I’m much more into the management of the land. That's what I'm in grad school for, actually. Forestry and land management at Mississippi State."
"You're at MSU?"
Jace repressed a smile at her too casual tone. She didn’t look up, but her hands paused in the midst of the greenery.
"Yep. Forty-five little minutes away. Easy trip home to see family, friends, or tall, leggy blondes. You know, if that makes a difference.”
Ginny pirouetted by, trailing the red ribbon they used for bows. “And you can come home to visit every weekend!”
“I think grad school will keep him a little too busy for that,” Tara warned.
“Actually, I’ve only got one class and thesis hours left, so I only really have to be in Starkville a couple days a week. And I graduate in May. Gotta say, home’s looking pretty attractive these days.”
A wash of pink crept over Tara’s cheeks.
“Oh for the love of Pete, ask the girl out already,” Livia said, returning with more wreath frames.
Jace glared at his sister. “I was getting to it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, I’m about to dangle mistletoe from a fishing pole here.”
“I saw the
rod and reel in the barn,” Austin offered.
“Austin!” Tara’s blush amped up to match the ribbon, which completely undermined the expression of stern disapproval she aimed his way.
“What?” he shrugged. “I like him. And he checks out.”
“He…checks out?” she asked faintly.
“We had a little man-to-man talk and came to an understanding,” Jace explained.
“Did you now?”
“Austin is the man of the house.”
A new respect mingled with the amusement in her eyes as she looked at her brother. “So he is.”
“Speaking of which,” Jace said. “That other matter we discussed has been taken care of.” The kids had picked out a present for Tara. He’d gone ahead and ordered it last night with rush shipping so it would arrive by Christmas Eve. Their ornament sales had more than paid for it, with enough pocket money left over that they could have a little fun of their own.
“Good.” Austin nodded in smug satisfaction.
“What are y’all up to?” Tara asked.
“None of your beeswax,” Jace told her, sticking his tongue out in his best eleven-year-old fashion.
A mini-van pulled up in front of the barn. A noisy family of four tumbled out, all talking at once as the kids climbed like monkeys up the man who’d been in the driver’s seat.
The beaming woman said, “My husband just got back from Afghanistan, so we’re a little behind on getting the tree. Can you help us?”
“Certainly. There are plenty left,” Jace said. He turned to Austin. “You want to take them out on the wagon?”
“On my own?” His eyes widened.
“You handled things just fine the last half dozen runs with me. I think you’re ready.”
Austin drew himself up and saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Laughing, Jace ruffled the boy’s hair, and they went to hitch up the horses.
By the time Austin had the horses trotting toward the fields, the family loaded in the back of the wagon, Tara had knocked out another three wreaths. She carried them over to hang on the waiting rack. “You’ve made his week giving him that responsibility.”
“He’s good with the horses.”
“They’ve been good for him,” said Tara.
“Horses are good therapy.”
“So are good people. Your whole family has been good therapy.”
Jace leaned back against the work table, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Well, since you’re feeling all thankful and sentimental, and my sister has already outed me—”
Livia snorted. “You’ve been outing yourself for two weeks without our help.”
“—I’ve got tickets to White Christmas tonight at the Madrigal. You want to go? Maybe get dinner first?”
“An actual, legitimate date?”
It relieved him that she sounded more amused than anxious. “That would be the general idea.”
“Before you answer, it’s worth noting that I’m stealing the kids for a Christmas movie marathon. Ginny and Austin don’t know who Heat Miser is and this must be rectified,” Livia declared.
“In that case, I’d love to.”
“Whee!” Ginny launched into another dance, pure joy on her face despite the slight wobble in her balance.
A smile tugged at Tara’s lips as she watched, and Jace wanted to see that same look of joy in her eyes.
“Lengthen, Ginny.”
Whatever that meant, Ginny did it and her balance settled.
“Is she taking lessons?” Jace asked.
“No. I’ve been teaching her at home. We couldn’t afford formal lessons when I first got here, and the dance studio closed over the summer. I guess there wasn’t enough interest to keep it open.”
“No, it was because Jeanette had complications from her knee surgery and couldn’t teach,” Livia said. “She’s been in physical therapy for months, but the doctors aren’t hopeful.”
“How do you even know that?” Jace asked.
“She goes to our church.”
“That’s tragic.” Sympathy twisted Tara’s features. “At least I had a choice. Even if I’m not performing anymore, I can still dance.”
“So it’s not the performance you miss?” Jace asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, there’s a thrill to the performance, and I love the challenge, but that was never why I did it. Dancing is when I’m most…me, I guess. It’s freedom.” She gave a self-deprecatory laugh. “That sounds ridiculous.”
“Not at all.” And it gave him an idea.
He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Leo. I need a favor.
Chapter 8
Tara fussed with her appearance. On any given day, she was far more concerned with getting the kids to school on time and bundling her hair up out of the way for work than she was with impressing anyone. There’d been no one she wanted to impress in longer than she cared to remember. But she wanted to impress Jace. Livia had already taken the kids, so she indulged in all the female date night rituals she’d forsaken for unofficial parenthood, hemming and hawing over the limited wardrobe she’d brought and spending as much time on her hair and makeup as she would’ve for a professional performance. And maybe this date was a performance, in a way.
Date Night starring Tara Honeycutt as Normal Girl.
A challenging role. Can she pull it off?
His knock came on the apartment door, and she sucked in a bracing breath. She was about to find out.
“It’s open!” she called out.
The door opened. “Tara?”
“Be out in a minute. Just putting on my boots.” The knee high boots added a couple of inches to her not insignificant height and made her feel strong and sexy.
Jace stood in the living room, hands tucked comfortably in his pockets as he waited, the picture of ease. He turned as she came in and let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
And suddenly every minute of fussing was worth it.
Seeming to catch himself, he straightened. “I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
To be seen as desirable and, more importantly, as herself? “On the contrary, I find it very...gratifying.”
His gaze traveled up from her face to something above her head, his lips twitching. “Someone’s been decorating.”
“What?”
Tara tipped her own head back to see what he was talking about. Someone had tacked mistletoe to one of the rafters running across the room.
“Austin,” she muttered.
“Livia. Or more probably both,” Jace said, suddenly three strides closer and beneath the greenery with her.
The boots put her almost eye-level with him, so she could see the twinkle in his eye. “Why do I get the sense you may’ve had something to do with this?”
“Don’t mistake my amusement for involvement. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the gesture. Are you superstitious, Tara?”
“Most performers are,” she allowed.
“It’s considered bad luck not to kiss under the mistletoe.”
“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want any more bad luck.” She lifted a hand to his chest, delighted to feel his heart galloping beneath her palm.
Jace slid his hands along her waist, reeling her in until the length of her pressed against the length of him. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he murmured.
“Then stop thinking.” Tara closed the distance between them. She felt his ready smile beneath her lips before he angled his head to take her mouth more firmly.
She lost her balance. She, who could dance her way through a room in the dark, felt her world tilt. Her hands slid up his chest to lock behind his neck, his solid, steady warmth an anchor she was in no hurry to relinquish. His patient, coaxing kiss chased away all the strain, all the nerves, all the worry that shaped her days, leaving nothing behind but a heady sense of being young and alive and wanted.
Jace eased back, pressing his brow to hers. “Well, now I’ll be able to concentrate through dinner.”
T
ara laughed. “Speak for yourself.”
One arm still around her waist, he marched her toward the door. “Come on, vixen, let’s get some food before my chivalry runs out.”
Jace kept his fingers laced with hers on the drive into town. Tara liked how small her hand felt in his. Liked, too, how easy he was with her, despite the attraction simmering between them. By tacit agreement, once they left the farm, neither of them mentioned the kids. Tonight they were just two twenty-somethings out on the town.
Jace was, unsurprisingly, an attentive date. They garnered a few raised eyebrows during their dinner at Speakeasy Pizzaria, a few smiles as they were spotted strolling hand in hand across the town green, walking off the sausage and mushroom pie they’d split before the show. With ample time before curtain, Tara towed him down toward the fountain, despite the frigid air.
The water in the basin was frozen, only the barest of trickles leaking down the center. A scattering of coins lay on the ice, covered in frost.
“Want to make a wish?” he asked.
Tara shook her head. “I already did. A few weeks ago.”
“No follow ups?”
Tara slid her arms around his waist in a hug. “No need. You gave me both.”
Jace angled his head. “What’d you wish for?”
“I wished that I could give Austin and Ginny the kind of Christmas they deserve. Last year was their first one without Dad. We were still getting to know each other and they were grieving and it was...less than awesome. Raising two kids and an adult on a barista’s wages plus a few extras isn’t easy. So it was pretty spare, as holidays go. And this year we have you and your amazing family and they’re happy—truly happy. I can’t repay you for that.”
“You don’t—”
“I know I don’t have to. I know that’s not why you did it. But I’m just so grateful you came into our lives.” And standing here with his arms around her, it was easier to believe that maybe that wasn’t a temporary thing.
“I’m feeling pretty damned lucky myself at the moment. You said both. What was the other wish?”
