by Lisa Plumley
He had to have mementos of this experience, Jason knew. The B&B had mounted miniature, remotely operated cameras to the hand-painted sleigh, so they could give riders video and still footage of their rides, à la Disneyland. Ordinarily, the sleigh rides were part of The Christmas House’s famed all-inclusive holiday experience, which included family receptions, cookie-baking sessions, shopping excursions, gift wrapping, and an overall ambiance that was as Christmassy as Santa on steroids.
Because Danielle knew her fellow townies, the Sullivans, so well, she’d arranged for a special excursion for Jason and her kids to enjoy. It was a kick seeing Danielle flex her special insider influence—something Jason hadn’t known she possessed. Afterward, along with Nate Kelly, the burly former NFL lineman who volunteered at the B&B, they’d all piled into the sleigh for a scenic ride that left Jason’s face wind-chapped, his feet numb . . . and his heart as light as a kid’s on Christmas Eve.
He only wished that Nate had driven the horses even faster. Jason had been hoping for a thrill ride. Instead, he’d gotten something that had felt like stepping into a Christmas carol.
All the same, as Jason sat in that sleigh bundled up between a whooping Danielle and an accidentally grinning Karlie (who still insisted she hated sleigh rides), he actually felt part of something. Something good. Something he wished could be lasting. Maybe that was why, afterward, he approached Nate.
“Hey, thanks for the ride,” Jason told him.
“No problem.” Nate patted Holly’s shaggy flank. “These old gals like getting out in the snow. They love this time of year.”
“Being outdoors, running wild, getting all the carrots they can eat?” Jason guessed, casting a glance at everyone else. Led by Danielle, they were currently collecting carrots from the old ribbon-bedecked bucket nailed at the edge of the barn’s picturesque corral. “Not too bad a life for a horse, I guess.”
“Nope.” Nate shook his head. “Not too bad for anybody. Most of the year, I teach industrial arts and home ec at Kismet High School. But when December rolls around, I volunteer here.”
“Volunteer? As in not getting paid? I’m surprised.”
“That’s because you’re not from around here.” Nate watched the kids sword-fight with their carrots. Convivially, he gestured for them to come closer to Holly and Ivy instead. “Around here, we stick together. There’s no place like Kismet.”
“You’re a lifer too?”
“You mean a townie? Yeah.” Nate grinned. “So are my wife and stepdaughter.”
“You never wanted to leave?”
Nate shrugged. “I tried once. When I was drafted into the NFL. Same draft class as Reno Wright. But it wasn’t for me.”
“Danielle wants to leave. To take the kids to L.A.”
“Really?” Nate seemed genuinely taken aback. “Everyone loves her here. Especially now that she’s working at Moosby’s. She’s helped just about everyone in town find toys and gifts.”
“Yeah. I was surprised, too. Maybe she’ll change her mind.” Maybe she’ll let me stay with her. Wait. What? Jason stuffed his hands in his pockets. He nodded at the sleigh’s multiple state-of-the-art cameras. “What happens to the camera footage?”
“Usually our guests opt for photo and video packages. It’s part of the experience the B&B offers. I didn’t check with you guys, since you’re not guests, but I can ask Danielle—”
“Don’t do that.” Jason glanced at her. “I’ll take one.”
Nate gave him a curious look. Then, “Aha. I get it.”
“Get what?”
“You want the pictures and video,” Nate guessed, “but you don’t want Danielle to know you’re a big ole softy at heart.”
Jason started to object. He wanted the footage as a keepsake, sure. But if he was smart, he’d use it to bolster his image rehab efforts, too. What could be more wholesome than a sleigh ride? What could be more public pleasing than that?
Danielle would be happy, right? Just a couple of hours ago, she’d pestered him to let the world see the real him. Well, video and still footage of him frolicking in the snow with three loveable children and their small-town mom was the real him.
“Caught me.” He shrugged. “No man wants to be a softy.”
Nate laughed at that. He nodded. “It’s yours. I’ll sneak it to you.” With that settled, he started adjusting the harnesses.
“Before you put away the horses,” Jason interrupted, feeling inspired and hopeful, “can I ask you another favor?”
Nate listened to his request. Then, a few minutes later . . .
“This is sick!” Zach chortled, sitting in the driver’s position on the sleigh’s big bench seat with Jason protectively behind him as they flew over the packed snow, runners squeaking. The boy kept both mittened hands clenched on the horse’s reins, staring straight ahead. “Mush, horses! Mush, mush!”
Beside them as the only other occupant of the sleigh—since Danielle, Aiden, and Karlie had opted out—Nate laughed. “Mush is for sled dogs, junior. But maybe you should slow down a little?”
Decidedly not slowing down, Zach guided the sleigh downhill. Bucolic scenery flashed by, bumping along in Jason’s vision. He could have sworn he glimpsed a vivid blue jay in the snow, but they whooshed past it before he could be sure.
“Slow down? No way!” Zach yelled in a jubilant tone.
“Slow down?” Jason shouted at the same time. “Ha!”
Startled by their shared views on the necessity of making the sleigh go faster, he and Zach stared at each other. They joggled silently up and down on the hard, cold sleigh seat, measuring each other’s response. Since Zach was effectively hemmed in by Jason’s sheltering arms as he helped the boy control the horses, anything less than honesty was impossible.
“You’re doing a great job,” Jason said.
Zach grinned. All his former animosity melted away.
The boy didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
“Whoa! I think they just spotted the barn!” Zach whooped, then did his best to control the horses. Jason helped. They both bounced up and down on the seat, laughing as the big Clydesdales increased their speed, jingle bells tolling. “This is better than a roller coaster ride!” Zach shouted. “Whoopee!”
Behind him, Jason grinned. The wintry wind whipped up his hair and froze his cheeks. His eyes watered. He couldn’t feel his knees anymore. He was pretty sure his fingers had permanently clenched into a horse-controlling position.
All the same . . . he loved it. This feeling—of making someone happy through his own efforts and ingenuity—was what had made Jason enjoy being part of the toy business in the first place. It was what had made it so rewarding for him to make all those lame homemade toys for his sisters and brother as a kid.
It was what he’d lost when he’d transitioned to CEO.
Beside him, Nate saw his expression. “Softy,” he mouthed.
But Jason couldn’t argue. Not when it was true.
He wished he had more time with Danielle. More time with Zach, Aiden, and Karlie. More time in Kismet, at Moosby’s, and at the whoopie pie bakery next door to the toy store, too. There was still so much more left to do.
He still had to win over Karlie. He still had to finish setting up that fishbowl with Aiden, which they’d only partially done to allow the goldfish time to adjust to his new digs and clean water. He still had to branch out from gingerbread spice whoopie pies to chocolate peppermint crunch whoopie pies to cranberry orange pecan whoopie pies. He still had to find out if Danielle looked as misty-eyed and alluring while she was being made love to in a big, comfy double bed as she did while being kissed senseless in a typical, cluttered kitchen.
Maybe, Jason thought, he could finagle more time. Somehow . . .
“Just make sure you give me those photos,” Jason told the hulking former NFLer as the sleigh pulled closer to The Christmas House’s grounds. He spied Danielle waiting, bundled up in her fuzzy orange coat and hat, and experienced a weird sense of longin
g. For her. “Then you can call me whatever you want.”
He told Nate where to send the digital footage. He promised to pay up with his credit card later. Then, with his secret mementos duly secured, Jason smiled and waved at Danielle.
If everything went well, they’d have more than just today to spend together, Jason knew. If everything proceeded the way he hoped, they’d have all the way till Christmas.
Chapter Eleven
Jason had done it again, Danielle realized as The Christmas House’s big custom sleigh, decorated with its traditional holly-wreathed, hand-painted logo, veered around the corner and came to a snow-spewing stop near the B&B’s open barn doors with its jingle bells chiming. He’d won over another of her children.
There was no other explanation for Zach’s mile-wide grin. It didn’t let up, either—not even as her son relinquished the reins to Nate Kelly. Evidently, her little boy had a need for speed . . . and a brand-new friend who was happy to indulge his budding machismo. Because Jason, too, was wearing a wall-to-wall grin as he jumped out of the sleigh, then held up both arms to help Zach out. For an instant, their smiles met and mingled.
They liked each other. Somehow, they really liked each other. Danielle could have sworn her heart did a happy dance.
She’d been so worried that, someday when she did find someone to try postdivorce dating with, the process would be awkward and difficult for her kids to handle. But Jason made the whole endeavor look easy. Zach chatted nonstop with him, waving his arms animatedly, as they patted the horses. Aiden ran up to him, ungainly in his snow pants, and he joined in, too.
The lone holdout at joining the Jason Hamilton fan club was Karlie, who stood nearby stubbornly toeing the snow with her boot and pretending not to notice anyone else. As the oldest, she was the least naïve—and clearly the most resistant to change, too.
Dad’s fling with Crystal is only temporary, Mom. We all know that.
Remembering her children’s stalwart belief that their parents’ divorce was only temporary, Danielle bit her lip. She had to make it clear to Karlie, Zach, and Aiden that she and Mark weren’t reconciling. She had to help them adjust to the idea of her dating again, too. So far, this outing with Jason was acting as a convenient test run—and so far, it was a roaring success.
All except for Karlie. She folded her arms and sneaked a glance at the jolly conversation happening near the sleigh, then made a grumpy face. She huffed toward The Christmas House B & B, her footsteps crunching a telltale path in the sparkling snow.
Danielle let her go. She could see that the B&B’s proprietors, Reid and Karina, were waiting at the main house’s light-and-wreath-bedecked back porch, along with Danielle’s friend Vanessa Sullivan, who helped manage the place. Unlike Danielle, Vanessa embodied Kismet’s artsy side, from her thumb rings and tattoos to her almost-Mohawk haircut and cutting-edge wardrobe. At one time, Danielle had thought she could be as free to express herself as Vanessa was. Now, though, she was happy to have opted out of an alternative lifestyle. Inventory and spreadsheets suited her much better than oil paints and artist’s clay.
As Karlie stomped away, Jason approached Danielle. Behind him, she glimpsed Zach and Aiden helping Nate put away the horses. Jason had a moment free, then. Thanks to Karlie’s sulky retreat, Danielle did, too. What a wonderful coincidence.
She could get used to watching a handsome, muscle-bound man striding toward her through the snow. It was . . . thrilling. Because it was Jason. Because he was, Danielle had to admit to herself, the most arresting man she’d ever met—even now, when he’d swapped his fancy coat for a toasty ski jacket bought at Reno Wright’s sporting goods store, and his citified, not-quite-appropriate wing tips for a pair of rugged snow boots from the same supplier. The two men had hit it off, Danielle had learned. That wasn’t surprising. After all, given two minutes and an introduction, Jason was capable of making friends with anyone. And Reno, as the town’s NFL conquering hero, had the confidence and ease to welcome any newcomer to Kismet . . . no matter what scandals that new arrival was supposed to have been involved in.
After all, Reno had a little experience with scandalous people. His own wife, Rachel, had stirred up a whopper of a scandal herself, during her time in L.A. Thinking about the mass overreaction to Rachel’s sartorial showdown with one of her former Hollywood clients, Danielle frowned. All this time, she’d been thinking of L.A. as the epicenter of Moosby’s HQ. But it was better known for frivolous celebrities, gossip, media mania, sunshine, smog, and gridlock. Would moving herself and her children there really be an improvement? Sure, Kismet could be unsophisticated. It could be limiting. The townspeople could be a little nosy. But it was also cozy, friendly, and familiar.
Those were a few of Danielle’s favorite things.
Was it possible, she wondered as Jason neared her, that she was chasing another impossible dream? That just as she’d tried to convince herself she could be an artist like her parents and Vanessa—forcing herself through years of drawing, painting, acting, singing, and more—she was now trying to convince herself that she was a corporate-climbing, big-city dweller at heart?
If Jason was right about her not wanting to leave Kismet . . .
But he wasn’t, Danielle told herself resolutely as Jason arrived and took her gloved hand in his. He couldn’t be right about her. He barely knew her. As far as Moosby’s HQ being “soul crushing” went, as he’d claimed . . . well, his own lack of effort had to have something to do with that perception. He needed to cooperate with the board, not fight them on every decision.
To that end, Danielle smiled. “You look like you’re having fun.” She took in Jason’s shining eyes, his beard-shadowed jawline, and his eager expression . . . and wanted to sigh over all the handsomeness within her reach. He was so irresistible. But she needed to be firm. “If the board could see you now—”
“They’d pee their pants,” Jason said. “My going on a high-speed sleigh ride is a definite liability risk. The lawyers would go crazy. I’d have to have a meeting first, sign waivers—”
Troubled, Danielle frowned. “Surely they wouldn’t demand all that just so you can go on a Christmastime sleigh ride.”
“Surely they would. You don’t know them. Not like I do.”
Actually, Danielle did know Chip Larsen a little, thanks to the phone calls they’d shared. But she knew it wouldn’t exactly enhance her day off with Jason to discuss his alleged corporate adversary. In fact, just then, it felt a little like betraying Jason to have filed those reports with Moosby’s corporate at all. But she had to do something. Jason certainly wasn’t.
“But today,” Jason went on, visibly shaking off those work-related details, “I’m not a CEO. I’m just a guy. A guy who’s really getting into all this wintertime snow stuff. Zach was telling me about an excellent place nearby to go sledding. And Aiden wants me to build a snowman with him. But first—”
He broke off. Still holding her hand, Jason scanned the snowy horizon. Danielle gazed sappily at his face while he did, feeling herself get caught up in a daydream where this was her regular Saturday afternoon existence—doing something fun as a family, enjoying spending time together . . . stepping nearer to her man so she could greedily inhale the scents of leather and cold and faint musky maleness that clung to him.
As Gigi would have said, Miam-miam.
Danielle wasn’t cut out for singlehood, she knew. She liked closeness. She liked working together to build a routine. She liked feeling that she had someone to care for—someone who would care for her, too. After her divorce, she’d pushed down all those longings and tried to forget about them. But just like her long-lost libido, her yearning for love and connection had resurfaced with a vengeance, called to the forefront by Jason.
By Jason and his broad shoulders, dark brows, sensual lips . . .
“Where’s Karlie?” he asked, interrupting her latest enjoyable fantasy about kissing him . . . and then undressing him.
“She went back to the B&B.”
Danielle gestured in the direction of the place’s three-story, white-painted main house. “They’re hosting a gingerbread-house building session today.”
“Does Karlie like baking?”
“She likes icing cookies. And eating them. And petting the B&B’s mascot, Digby the dachshund. Every year, the Sullivan’s outfit him in little holiday sweaters. It’s adorable.”
“Does Karlie want a puppy?”
Aha. Belatedly, Danielle understood what Jason was doing.
“I can’t let you buy her a puppy.”
“This from the woman who’s extorted a small fortune from me for gas money?” He grinned. “I could have hired a private helicopter for what you’ve charged me to get around town.”
“That’s different.” Principally because Danielle didn’t intend to keep any of that money. Especially not now that she and Jason had—however momentarily—become personally involved. “I mean, I should probably not let Karlie have a puppy right now, in case we all wind up moving to the big city.”
“You won’t like it in the big city. I promise.” Jason looked around, taking in the scenic B&B grounds, the distant iced-over lake dotted with rickety fishing shanties, the towering pine trees and the overall sense of peacefulness. “You working at Moosby’s HQ would be worse than you going back to art school. Or starting a third band. Or taking up acting again.”
As Jason went on listing her less-than-successful artistic pursuits, Danielle gawked at him. He’d really been listening to her the other day. He’d remembered. Also, he’d just succinctly enumerated the very same reservations she’d been thinking five minutes earlier. How did he keep reading her mind that way?
“. . . or coloring graphic novels,” Jason finished. “If I had it to do over again, I’m not sure I’d work at Moosby’s HQ either.”
“If you didn’t do that, you couldn’t afford helicopters and puppies. And you know how the ladies love a man with deep pockets,” Danielle joked, hoping to change the subject from her own unwanted misgivings, “so you can’t possibly quit now.”
