by Lisa Plumley
“Found it.” She held up its frayed edges. “It’s broken.”
“That’s weird. It looks as though it’s been cut in half.” Wearing a concerned look, Reid fished around in the seat. He withdrew a lone buckle that had been wedged, uselessly, beneath her hip. “This clasp has been snapped clean off too. See?”
Karina did. This wasn’t a good sign for the B&B. Someone at The Christmas House obviously wasn’t doing his or her job. She hoped it wasn’t an endemic problem. Trying to view the incident as a simple oversight—and not an indicator of yet another black mark against the B&B—she flung aside the seat belt remnants.
“Well, I can’t use this, then. I’ll be fine, though.” She poked Nate’s huge shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, Nate! Take it easy on the way back, okay? My seat belt is broken.”
Nate saluted. “Gotcha. I’ll be extra careful.”
Fortunately, they weren’t traveling very fast. All the better to enjoy the views, the Christmassy ambiance, and the snowfall that began drifting down, just like in one of those holiday-themed TV movies.
Thrilled by the snow’s picture-perfect fluffiness, Karina relaxed. So did Reid…mostly. He shot an occasional accusing glance at her nonfunctioning seat belt, though. And when they reached the top of the next hill, he seemed to come to a decision.
He signaled Nate. “Hey, Nate. Pull up here for a minute, okay? I’m going to switch places with Karina.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she protested. “I’m fine!”
“I won’t have you in danger,” Reid said. “We’re switching.”
The sleigh pulled to a stop, leaving the horses prancing in the snow. All around them, a peaceful field stretched for what seemed like miles. The crisp wintery air filled Karina’s lungs. Her nose tingled with cold. She felt warm and protected, though—protected because Reid was chivalrously looking out for her and warm because she could glimpse, waaaay down the hill, the faraway B&B, with its barn and outbuildings and multiple Christmas trees.
It looked just like an old-fashioned holiday card—like one of those lithographic prints from Currier and Ives, with gilded edges and an elegant script greeting inside. Except it was real.
Karina sighed.
Reid stood. He gestured for her to do the same. Karina did.
At the same instant, the Clydesdales stamped and blew. One of them reared in its traces. Startled, Nate yanked the reins.
It was no use. The equine team, apparently spotting their home base at the paddock and barn, were ready to go home.
They bolted into motion, heading downhill. One minute, Karina was balancing precariously in the sleigh, trying to trade places with Reid…and the next, she was falling. She reached for something to steady herself, caught hold of Reid’s hand, and felt him yank her. Hard. They both teetered sideways.
An instant later, the sleigh swerved violently. Karina lost her footing on its icy floorboards. Her mitten slipped off, leaving Reid grasping it—and Karina grasping nothing at all.
“Mom!” Olivia yelled. “Mom! Sit down!”
“Grab Reid!” Josh added. “Grab his hand!”
Karina couldn’t. The next thing she knew, she was toppling crazily over the side of the sleigh. She landed on a big pile of snow, inches from the whooshing runners.
The sleigh flew past. Jingle bells rang merrily in her ears. Then…all was silent.
The minute Reid felt Holly and Ivy jerk the sleigh off course, he knew exactly what was happening. His grandfather had tried to warn him about this. He hadn’t had a chance to finish.
Whatever you do, don’t—Robert had started to say, when they’d been having their last-minute discussion about the B&B. Now Reid could easily guess the rest: Don’t let the horses see the barn before you’re ready to let them haul ass toward home.
The Clydesdales’ eagerness had brooked no argument. When a pair of beasts weighing sixteen-hundred-pounds decided it was time for a hay-and-oats happy hour…well, it was time for a hay-and-oats happy hour. Period.
At first, Reid had thought he could hold Karina. Then her mitten had come off, and he hadn’t been able to.
Damn that unusable seat belt of hers! He’d swear it had been tampered with. Clearly, someone wanted to shut down The Christmas House—or at least make them fail their evaluation.
Reid didn’t know who. Plenty of townspeople seemed to be likely suspects, though, given their reluctance to see The Christmas House become an Edgware franchise.
Or maybe Lagniappe at the Lakeshore was behind this latest act of sabotage. Obviously, they’d already poached the B&B’s head chef. Reid suspected they might have spiked the cider at the reception too. But exactly how far would they go to get a leg up in the competition for Kismet’s tourism dollars?
Reid wasn’t sure. He didn’t have time to ponder the issue, either. Because even as those questions crowded into his mind, all hell broke loose. Karina toppled out of the sleigh. All the children shrieked. Nate struggled to control the horses. Reid assessed the situation, then took the only conceivable action.
Like a cliff diver in Brontallo, he jumped off the sleigh.
He hit the ground hard, seeing stars. With a final roar from Nate, the sleigh coursed merrily—but unstoppably—downhill.
The jingle bells clanged out of earshot. All was silent.
Shaking his head, Reid pushed up from the snow. He took a look around, got his bearings, then spotted Karina. She lay like a fleece-covered lump near a snowdrift just ahead of him.
It felt as though it took forever to run to her. Reid did, then fell to his knees beside her. With a practiced glance, he took in her posture, breathing, and vital signs. He framed her face with his gloved hands, carefully examining her features.
“Karina! Say something!” he cried. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She cracked open one eye. “Are you all right?”
“Me? Who cares about me?” Immeasurably relieved to see her looking back at him, Reid exhaled. Sure, Karina was looking at him with only one eye—pirate style—but she seemed to have full comprehension of her surroundings.
At the realization, he wanted to laugh, cry, swear…or maybe dance the way Karina had done after she’d fed those carrots to Holly and Ivy (those traitors). Instead, he stroked her cheek. “It’s you I’m worried about,” he said. “You took quite a tumble from the sleigh.”
“Nah. We weren’t going that fast.” She opened her other eye. Languidly, she flung her arms to her sides in the snow. Snowflakes drifted down to sparkle in her hair and on her hat. “At least not until you managed to leap out headfirst! By then, the horses were really running hard. Are you crazy?”
He didn’t know what she meant. “I had to get to you.”
“That’s nuts.” Karina gave him a beautiful smile. “It’s also why I stayed here and played dead until you reached me. I could hardly let all that effort go unrewarded, could I?”
“You played dead?” Reid could hardly comprehend it. Trying to, he boggled at her. “Why in the hell would you do that?”
“So you could rescue me, silly.” Her smile turned cockeyed. Maybe she was concussed. “If I’d gotten up and jogged over to meet you, it would have been anticlimactic at best. Right?”
She was definitely concussed. “So you flopped in the snow and took a nap?”
“Sort of.” Beaming now, Karina pushed up to a sitting position. As though proving her hardiness, she jumped nimbly to her feet. She gave a dramatic bow, then performed twelve jumping jacks. “See? I’m fine. Stop looking so worried, all right?”
“Oh man.” Finally understanding she was okay—and rubbing his face in it!—Reid advanced on her. “You are so getting it.”
Unconcernedly, she pursed her lips. “Getting what?”
“This.” He grabbed her. Kissed her. Felt her warmth, her curviness, her pliant body as she surrendered against him. One kiss became two. Two became three. Three became…“Ahhhh!”
Reid fell backward, pushed by Karin
a. She followed him down to the snowbank, then grabbed a big handful of snow.
Gleefully, she rubbed it in his face. “Gotcha!”
Well. That couldn’t be allowed to stand. No matter how damn cute Karina sounded while ambushing him. Sputtering, Reid groped blindly for a snow clump of his own. He found one.
This time, it was Karina’s turn to howl with surprise.
They rolled apart from one another. Wetly, Karina blinked. Snow stuck to her hat, her hood, and her scarf. It clung to her eyelashes, then began melting. She rubbed her hands together.
Then she tackled him again, a fistful of snow leading the way. Reid grunted as woman and coldness both hit him at once.
“This is awesome! I always wanted to have a snow fight! And now I have. Officially.” Triumphantly, she straddled him. “And I won, too. Woo-hoo!” Her grateful gaze slipped to his. “Thanks for playing along. I know it’s kind of lame for a grown woman to have a snow fight.”
“It’s not lame.” Especially this part, where you’re on top of me. Reid groaned, wishing there were about twelve fewer layers separating them. “It’s fun. You’re allowed to have fun.”
Karina bit her lip. “Do you think the kids are okay?”
“They’re probably having a snow fight of their own by now.”
Propping her hands on his chest for leverage, she peered downhill. She squinted. “You’re right. I think I see them.” Her gaze returned to his. “I should get back to the barn. They’re probably worried about me. I did just fall out of a moving sleigh, you know. It was practically a near-death experience!”
Reid examined her. Pleasurably. And at length. “You seem pretty perky for someone who just defeated the grim reaper.”
“I’m tougher than I look. Also, I’m well padded today. I’m pretty sure my thermal underwear acted as a shock absorber.”
Pretending to evaluate that theory, he squeezed her cushioned ass. He nodded. “Good thing you bundled up then. Thank God for your wimpy California girl constitution.”
Laughing, Karina swatted away his hands. “Hey. Don’t bad-mouth the Golden State. You just might like it there.”
For a heartbeat, Reid actually considered the possibility. He imagined himself inside Karina’s undoubtedly cozy house in San Diego, with her right next to him—and all their assorted kids close by—listening to the roar of the surf outside.
He liked the beach. It would be a good place to get married. If a person wanted to get married, of course.
“I’ve been to California. I doubt I’ll go back for a while.”
“Oh.” Karina’s face fell. “Well, that’s your loss, I guess. And here I was, right on the verge of inviting you for a visit.”
Reid froze. “You wanted me to come to California?”
Actually…yes, her wistful expression said, silently and irrefutably. I wanted you to come to California.
For a long moment, they gazed at one another. Reid’s mind filled with a few more enticing images. Karina in a bikini. His daughters laughing, arms full of textbooks, as they got on a school bus. Karina’s kids cracking jokes, playing video games, and learning Reid’s secrets of spelunking and campfire cooking.
Him, settling in. Him, hanging up his traveling shoes.
The idea felt surprisingly appealing.
“Nah. Kidding!” Karina rolled off him. “Boy, are you ever gullible!” Not meeting his eyes, she sat near the snowbank. She yanked up the thick socks she had on beneath her snow boots and tucked-in jeans, giving all her attention to that mundane task.
“I’m gullible?” Did he actually feel wounded by that remark? Impossible. “If that’s what you call leaping off a moving sleigh, all Superman style,” Reid said, “then I guess gullible means something other than I thought it did.”
“You’re right.” Still holding herself apart from him, Karina plucked off her one remaining mitten. She examined it, then pocketed it. “That was a grand gesture.” Finally, she looked at him. “Thanks for rescuing me…you big show-off.”
Her expression was unreadable. Reid felt confused.
Was she grateful to him or not? Did she want him or not? Did they have a chance of being friends…or not?
Also, what the hell was wrong with his usual mojo, that he was even contemplating these stupid questions in the first place? It wasn’t like him to feel uncertain. Usually, Reid felt supremely confident with women. All women. All women everywhere.
But Karina…Karina was another story altogether.
If they were going to be friends—platonic friends—he’d better quit imagining her naked, Reid told himself abruptly. Because if she’d actually been wearing as little as his libidinous mind insisted on showing him, she’d have been frostbitten for sure.
“That’s me. A big grandstander, all the way.” Better to be thought of as bigheaded, Reid decided, than to let Karina know the truth: He’d been scared out of his mind for her. And filled with remorse that his sleigh might have seriously hurt her. He vowed to get to the bottom of the snafus at The Christmas House. But first…He yanked off his gloves and offered them to her. “Take these,” he said gruffly. “You don’t want to get cold.”
She scooted a few inches nearer. “Thanks.”
They sat together, almost shoulder to shoulder in the snow, while Karina pulled on his gloves. On her, they appeared comically oversized—which only reminded Reid exactly how delicate, how vulnerable, how necessary to him she was. Her accident had shaken him up. Remembering it now made him feel twice as determined to make sure things went well at the B&B.
That meant he had to make doubly sure he didn’t get distracted again. He had to make sure he focused, damn it!
But there was something about Karina’s nearness. It stirred up all his emotions. It tempted him. It lured him. As though by moving closer she’d triggered some sort of unstoppable chemical reaction, Reid couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again.
Maybe he’d try being platonic another day.
He turned to her. She turned to him. Their faces hovered only a few inches apart, their breath turning into frosty plumes in the wintery air. Driven by an overpowering need to feel her again, to know her more deeply, Reid lifted his hand to her jaw.
Her skin felt warm and smooth beneath his bare palm, and since Karina remained still, he decided that maybe this was an okay platonic-friend activity. Maybe he’d been acting too rigidly all along. Experimentally, he stroked his thumb over her cheek.
At that, she widened her eyes, suddenly awakened to what was happening between them. Almost imperceptibly, Karina swayed toward him. She dropped her gaze to his mouth. She drew in a raspy, anticipatory breath—one that matched his own—and then…
“Do accidents happen often at The Christmas House?”
Startled by her question, Reid blinked. “What?”
“Is what happened to me today an indication of a larger problem with the B&B’s safety policies,” she pressed, “or is it a onetime fluke, like the spiked cider at the reception?”
Expectantly, Karina gazed at him. Her demeanor seemed oddly businesslike, her attitude brisk, and he wondered why she would interrupt a kiss for a question that clearly could have waited.
Then he realized the obvious truth. She was Karina. Even at the best of times, she was a worrywart. As her friend, Reid needed to put her mind at ease. Striving to do that—instead of enjoyably kissing her again, the way he wanted to—he casually dropped his hand.
Friends friends friends. Be her friend first!
He shrugged. “I hope it’s a fluke. I haven’t been around often enough to know for sure.” He gave her the capsule version of his coming-home story and his grandparents’ request that he run the B&B this Christmas season. “The trouble is, we’re being evaluated for a potential franchise sale right now—”
Karina went still beside him. “Evaluated?”
Reid nodded. “Right. Anonymously. By a secret risk-assessment evaluator from a hospitality conglomerate called Edgware. They want to franchise
The Christmas House concept, but they need to make sure it’s a good investment first.”
“Oh. That seems like, um, good news. Right?”
“Right.” Another nod. “Edgware has a reputation for being really tough, though, so we can’t afford to have any more screwups. The good news is, I know what happened with the horses, and I can fix the seat belt on the sleigh, too. So as long as nothing else goes wrong,” Reid said, “I think we’ll be okay. We’ve solved a few of the potential problems already.”
He told her how he’d promoted one of the longtime cooks to replace their pilfered head chef. He explained how he’d hired another cook to help out—a recent graduate who’d come highly recommended from the local culinary school.
“Given a little time, I think the new kitchen crew will work wonders,” Reid said. “Whether that will happen in time to impress the Edgware evaluator remains to be seen.”
“And you want the sale to go through?” Intently, Karina gazed at him. “I mean, if the B&B has been in your family for decades, maybe you’d rather it didn’t get sold off and franchised. Maybe you’d rather the deal fell apart completely?”
At her blatantly hopeful expression, Reid couldn’t help laughing. Clearly, Karina would have sided with the Kismet residents—and Nate—on the question of who should run the B&B.
“Nice try. But I’m not the sentimental type, remember?”
She slumped in her parka and hood, seeming disappointed.
Wanting to cheer her up, Reid gave her a companionable nudge. “If it makes you feel any better,” he confided with a fresh grin, “I’m starting to feel a major moment of nostalgia for ten minutes ago, when we weren’t talking about work.”
She laughed. “Me too. Believe me!”
He angled his head, confused by that.
“I mean, I liked the snow fight better!” Karina explained, catching his undoubtedly perplexed expression. “That was fun.”
“Yes, it was.” He rested his forearms on his upraised knees and gazed at her, feeling a moment of camaraderie stretch between them. “All I can say is, it’s a damn good thing you weren’t the Edgware evaluator.” He chuckled. “I’ll bet he—or she—would not have felt like having a spontaneous snow fight just moments after being thrown from a runaway sleigh.”
