by Skye Jordan
“I won’t be here long,” he said. “And I know a good thing when I see it.”
Somehow she was sure he’d meant “I know what I want when I see it” but was smart enough to change up the words. Faith still heard it in his tone.
She turned back to him and met his eyes. “And do you always get what you want?”
His grin grew. “I try my damnedest.”
“I’ll just bet you do.”
Faith tried not to hold the man’s confidence against him as she pushed the door open and wandered toward the cash register. The original circa 1870 wood floors creaked beneath her feet, and she let the familiarity of the store curl around her as she picked up the box holding will-call tags.
“What name is the tree under?” she asked.
“You don’t know me?”
She glanced over her shoulder with a ready smile for the surprise in his voice. “Nope, sure don’t.”
He lifted a brow as if he didn’t believe her. “Saber?”
“Sa—” All the nuances she’d picked up on over the last fifteen minutes clicked with the name, and Faith started laughing. “Oh God. Of course.”
He was a Saber son. It didn’t matter which of the three sons Sexy turned out to be, they were all the same—wealthy and handsome and full of themselves. One of them had been in her class, but she couldn’t remember which. And she didn’t care. The men now had a reputation for rolling into town to visit their parents a couple of times a year from their fancy city digs. They flashed their money and their shiny toys. Shot those pretty smiles around town until they got laid. Then rolled right back out again.
“Oh yeah,” she said on a sigh of both disappointment and self-deprecation. “It all makes sense now.”
“What makes sense?” he asked.
“Nothing that would interest you.” She carried the tag toward the back door leading to her enclosed patio. “Your mama’s tree is right out here.”
She pushed open the door and breathed deep of that amazing fresh-cut pine-tree scent. After checking the tags on a few trees, she held up the correct one like a referee in a boxing match. “And we have a winner.”
Saber laughed, and the smile that lit his face would have taken Faith’s breath away if she’d been sober. Or if she hadn’t discovered he was a Saber.
“What were you drinking at the bar again?” he asked.
She reached through the branches to grab the trunk, then let her body weight help her pull it upright. “Only the best holiday concoction anywhere.”
He reached into the tree just above her grasp and took hold of the trunk. “I’ll say.”
Suddenly he was close again. Close enough to feel his body heat. Close enough to smell his spicy scent mixed with fresh pine. And the whole idea of a great big Christmas O was wearing down her common sense.
She released the tree and glanced up to meet his eyes. And he was looking right at her. Right into her eyes. As if he was fully present. Not checking her out. Not already getting busy with her in his head. But right there, in the moment, with her. And he looked expectant, as if he were waiting for…something.
Since she was way out of her element, Faith took a step back. “I’m assuming a big, strong man like you can get this itty-bitty tree to your car on your own.” She sidestepped him to cross the patio and unlock the gate. “I’m not in any shape to be throwing trees right now.”
Sexy hefted the twelve-foot noble fir—one of Faith’s largest and most expensive trees, wrapped safely in orange netting—onto his shoulder in one smooth motion.
Faith’s mouth dropped open. “Well, there’s one for the books. In all the years I’ve been selling trees, I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone handle one quite like that.”
He sauntered toward her and paused just inside the gate—and inside her personal space. A tingle of awareness that had quickly become familiar spread through Faith again. And before she knew how it had happened, her gaze slipped to his mouth. Her mind to how his lips would feel against hers. It had been so long since she’d kissed a man. So damn long.
Maybe there was something to testing the waters again. Taking the old libido on a spin with someone who rolled out of town as easily as he rolled in. Kissing without commitment? Dating without promises? Sex for sheer pleasure?
“It’s all in the setup and balance.” His voice, low and soft, dragged her from the luscious thoughts, but the heat in his eyes hinted that his mind was headed in a similar direction. “If you’ve got that right, even you could do this.”
That made her laugh, and the alcohol turned it into a giggle. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll teach you how if you want.” The insinuation in those words quickened Faith’s heart. His low, smooth tone created a heaviness between her legs. “Imagine the reaction of all the tough guys in town when you throw a baby like this on your shoulder and carry it to their car.” His gaze took on a little more heat. “Let me take you to dinner, and I’ll share the trick. Maybe I’ll even share a couple more.”
Oh wow. Everything inside her was yelling yes, yes, yes.
But she’d had too much common sense ruling her world for far too long for her to simply jump.
She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “Thanks anyway.”
When his feet didn’t move toward his car, she glanced at his face again. He was looking at her with a little bit of dismay. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
She wondered if the alcohol had affected her memory. This time of year, so many family members came to town, so many previous residents returned to visit. Normally, she had a good memory. Remembering was good for business. But…
Her brows lifted. “You’re a Saber.”
“I’m Grant.”
He said it as if it should mean something. Though she had no idea what. “Nice to meet you, Grant. I’m Faith. I’m also beat, and I have another long day ahead of me tomorrow. Say hello to Hazel for me.”
He chuckled as if he found her amusing, lifted his brows, and said, “Grant Saber?”
“Yeah. I got that. Grant plus Saber would equal Grant Saber. I haven’t had that much to drink.” And she found the fact that he expected his name to be on the lips of everyone in town both comical and annoying. “Good night, Grant Saber.”
He huffed a sound of humorous dismay and started for the street, but before he passed through the gate, he paused beside her. “Will you let me walk you home?”
That sweet pang tugged inside her again and this back and forth was driving her mad. “I am home.” When Grant frowned and glanced toward the store, Faith added, “I live in the apartment above the store.”
“Ah…” He steadied the tree on his shoulder with one hand and pulled something from his pocket with the other. “Here’s my number. I won’t be in town long, so use it while you can.”
That did it. Now she was ticked.
Faith curled her fingers around the chain link in the gate and ignored his card. With her gaze directly on his, she offered a firm “No, thank you. Good night.”
“You’re going to want to call me when you figure out who I am.”
“You’re lucky I have alcohol in my system, or I wouldn’t be acting this nice.” That and she was too damned tired to get pissed over his arrogance. “Please leave so I can find my pillow.”
He shot her one of those I’m-so-not-taking-you-seriously grins. With his gaze holding hers, he reached down to slip the card into the back pocket of her jeans. The move brought his lips within inches of hers. His warmth and scent flooded the space around her, and she felt a fundamental shift in her body. One that made her grip the gate harder to keep herself steady. His touch shot a tingle of sensation across her backside.
“When you’re ready,” he murmured, his voice quiet and thick, “call me. For a drink, dinner, dessert. Call me for…anything…you need.” His fingers slipped across her jaw in a whisper. “Sleep tight, angel.”
Then he stepped onto the sidewalk and strode to an SUV at the curb like nothing
had happened, while Faith struggled to secure a gate she’d locked at least a thousand times over the years. His “dessert” and “anything” had hit the nerves he’d intended, and desire shivered through her belly. The “angel” touched a different place, the same one affected when he’d held her jacket.
Taylor was definitely right about one thing—both of those places in Faith had been neglected for far too long.
When she finally locked the gate, she glanced up and found him tying the tree to that shiny Range Rover. One so new it still carried the dealer’s plates. She huffed and shook her head. Filling those needs by allowing herself to be used by a rich, arrogant man was not going to help her in any way.
Except to get laid.
Maybe give her that momentary escape she craved.
Possibly distract her through this painful, lonely holiday.
While also giving her some much-needed companionship, male contact, long-denied pleasure…
Faith sighed as she retraced her steps to lock the interior doors and turn off the lights, then took the stairs to her apartment above the store, thinking about Grant Saber’s hot little smile. Those full lips. That tall, muscular body.
And a thread of apprehension snuck in as she reached the door to her apartment. “What the hell would I do with all that man?”
She let all the stresses of the day drain away as she wandered into her living room, hoping the alcohol would help her get a good night’s sleep for a change.
With her purse and her jacket on the love seat, Faith paused at the windows and drew the blinds against the dark night still sparkling with a light snow. When she glanced toward the street, she found Grant speaking with Dwayne Urich. Since the death of his wife, Dwayne would talk to anyone who would listen for as long as they would listen. Faith gave Grant five minutes before he cut Dwayne off. Someone that self-important wouldn’t waste his time with Dwayne’s lonely rambles.
But as she counted down the minutes, Faith realized Grant wasn’t just listening to Dwayne, he was laughing. He was engaging. The two were having a lively conversation. She had to admit, she hadn’t seen Dwayne as animated in a very long time.
After ten minutes, Grant was still leaning against his car, hands in his pockets, snow layering his hair and jacket. The sight reminded her of those last days with her father and how he’d taken such joy in the visits from his closest friends.
And her anger toward the stranger’s arrogant edge softened. “Maybe you’re not all bad, Grant Saber.”
3
Grant’s gut hurt from laughing at the tales Dwayne spun of Holly’s current high school hockey team.
He leaned his parka-covered ass against his SUV so he could keep an eye on Faith in his peripheral vision. She was watching him from a window above the hardware store. He’d known all the buildings in town had spaces above, but most had been used for offices even when Grant had lived there.
As soon as she discovered who he was, she’d be calling. The thought spilled another burst of heat through his body. If he didn’t stop thinking about quieting her sassy mouth in creative ways, he was going to have to take off his jacket.
“And then…” Dwayne said, winding down his most recent story of an away game with the team. The roads home had been closed due to snow, and they had to stay in a motel overnight. “Even after eight other guys had failed, Healy decides he can reach the ground floor, with, get this—”
“Oh God, he didn’t—” Grant said with humor bubbling up from his belly.
Dwayne was already nodding. “The Saber sling.”
Grant doubled over laughing. Ten years later, kids were still reenacting his legendary antics in high school. When he ran out of breath, he straightened and asked, “Did he make it?”
“Nope.” Dwayne chuckled. “Kids nowadays aren’t like my generation. They all spend their time on video games, not out on the farm or ranch. Most don’t even have chores around the house. None of them could tie a square knot to save their lives. Healy ended up ass first in the snow.”
“How long did you leave him there?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Grant winced. “Ooo, harsh.”
Dwayne just chuckled, and Grant noticed the light in Faith’s apartment go out.
“So when do you want to get started?” Dwayne asked. “I’ve been holding back in case something came up and you couldn’t make it. Just told the boys there would be extra practice over the break. You should have heard the moans and groans. I miss the days when kids couldn’t wait to get out on the ice, and I’m hoping you can bring some of that back to us.”
“The sooner the better. Like I told you when we cooked this up, I’m ready.”
“Perfect. I’ll corral the boys. Plan on something tomorrow afternoon. Say around two?”
“I’ll be there.”
With a beaming grin, Dwayne shook Grant’s hand and used the other to slap his bicep. “This is gonna be real special for the kids.”
“My pleasure. See you tomorrow.”
Dwayne turned toward the sidewalk, and Grant pushed off the car.
“And thanks for agreeing to judge the ice sculptures this year. The posters are getting printed right now. The team will be slapping them up all over the county.”
As he rounded the front of his car, Grant’s attention swung back to Dwayne. “What? What about ice sculptures?”
“You haven’t been gone that long,” Dwayne said, a smile in his voice. “You remember, the biggest draw of the Winter Wonderland Festival? But once word got out that you were judging, the entries poured in. That money helps with the hockey team’s travel and uniform expenses. But it’s looking like we’ll have enough to put together a training camp over the Christmas break next year too. Could maybe even pay someone to come and give clinics.”
Grant was definitely missing something. “This is the first I’ve heard of judging…”
Dwayne’s expression clicked from happy to deer in the headlights. “Your mama told me she got the okay from you about being a judge last week.”
Which would have been about the time Grant had finally given in to his mother’s nagging to come home for Christmas.
Anger started to simmer beneath his skin. “My mama.”
“This is one of her biggest fundraisers for the Art League. A portion of the proceeds from the ice carving goes to her charity.”
“Yeah, that I remember.” That fucking charity. It wasn’t the charity that Grant disliked as much as it was his mother’s obsession with running it. He took a deep breath and let it out in a billow of condensation. “Don’t you love life’s little ironies, Dwayne?”
Dwayne hesitated. “Hey, Grant, if it’s a problem—”
“No, Dwayne. It’s not a problem. My mama’s the problem. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to support you and the kids. You know that.”
“It means a lot to me, kid.” Dwayne smiled, but the enthusiasm was gone, and Grant knew the older man was pulling up memories from the past over the sore subject of his family and their refusal to support Grant’s love of hockey.
Dwayne’s gaze traveled to Grant’s SUV. “Quite a ride you got there. That a Range Rover? What did that set you back, a hundred grand?”
A hundred and a half, but Dwayne didn’t care. This was just an attempt to shift gears and get away from the troubling topic of family. “Something like that.”
“Quite a tree you picked out. A ten footer?”
“Twelve.” Grant glanced at the monster atop his vehicle, wishing he’d told his mother no to the holidays and chosen another charitable way to spend his time to get the Rough Riders’ owner off his back. But Grant had thought he’d be killing two birds with one stone by doing both here. He was also four hundred miles away from those tempting Rider Girls, who were always sweeping him into the kind of distraction the team owner was tired of hearing about through the media or friends. It was probably the only drawback to signing with the team—the owner’s conservative view of how players should run their
life off the ice. Grant didn’t mind doing what he was told when it involved his game or even his career. He did take issue with being told where to develop his morals.
But the guy was paying Grant a fucking mint, so… Here he was.
“Glad you bought it from Faith. She’s had a real hard year.” Dwayne’s gaze turned on the hardware store, his brow pulled in concern.
“Oh yeah?” Grant looked up to see if Faith was still watching, but he couldn’t tell with the light out. A hard year would explain why she was living in a tiny apartment above the store. “How’s that?”
“Since her daddy passed, she’s been handling everything herself.”
Grant’s attention snapped back to Dwayne, and shock chilled his gut. “Her daddy? When?”
“’Bout six months ago. It was a blessing in a lot of ways. He’d been battling the cancer for so long. Made a real good run of it. There was a year or two he and Faith thought he was going to beat it, but then it came back meaner than ever.”
The shock transitioned into dread, and Grant’s stomach dropped. “Ah, damn.”
“It wasn’t a surprise. He was ready to go. Faith, well, she never would have been ready. But it was long past time she got on with her own life. It ate at her daddy how much she gave up for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He got the news her first year in college. She came home that summer and never went back. That boy she went with all through high school… Well, let’s just say he didn’t let no grass grow under his feet. He brought the new girlfriend home with him from college the following Christmas break.”
Grant took another hit to the gut. “Ouch.”
Dwayne made a sympathetic sound in his throat. “She was at her daddy’s side every day since she came home. They had more than a few arguments over her putting her life on hold to nurse him, but she always won.” Dwayne chuckled. “A fighter, that one. Once she sets her mind to something, ain’t no one gonna change it. Reminds me a lot of you that way.” He patted Grant’s arm. “I’m gonna let you go before we both turn into icicles.”
“Sure, sure.” Grant started around the front of his SUV far more subdued than when he’d first spotted Dwayne. “Hey, Dwayne? You need a ride home?”
