by Kirk, Cindy
From Ami’s uninhibited response, it appeared she felt the same pull. But when he flattened his hand against her lower back, drawing her up against the length of him, she stumbled.
Beck reached out to steady her, but she brushed away his hands.
“I—I should go.” Though her cheeks were dotted with bright spots of pink, she appeared back in full control.
Which was more than Beck could say for himself. He wanted her. Right now. If she was willing, he’d—
Beck didn’t let himself finish the thought. The way she was backing up told him if she’d once been interested, she wasn’t anymore.
The relief he felt was tinged with regret. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I’ll walk.”
“It’s late.” His tone brooked no argument.
After a thoughtful second, she shrugged. “Sure.”
The drive to the bakery was made in silence. Beck tried to initiate conversation on the short trip, but Ami’s monosyllabic responses had him giving up before he even turned off Market Street.
He pulled to the curb, half expecting her to hop out without a word of good-bye. Once again, Ami surprised him. She unbuckled her seat belt and shifted to face him.
“I let things get out of hand,” she told him. “It’s been a while for me and, well, you’re a great kisser. But that’s no excuse for throwing myself at you. So . . . I apologize.”
Ami was out of the vehicle and inside the bakery before Beck processed her words.
She’d let things get out of hand?
He was the one who hadn’t been able to stop from kissing her. She’d responded, but the original kiss had been at his instigation, not hers.
Why would she think otherwise?
Beck pondered the puzzling question the rest of the drive home.
Chapter Nine
“I love the fact that you jumped him.” Hadley shot Ami a wink, then pushed off from the crest overlooking a snow-covered meadow.
Ami easily kept up with her friend, gliding down the slight mound—too small to be called a hill—on her cross-country skis, then coming to a stop beside Hadley at the bottom.
After making it through a busy weekend and playing catch-up on Monday, Ami had decided to celebrate her day off from the café by enjoying last night’s additional two inches of snow.
This had been Ami’s first chance to bring up Saturday night’s debacle with her friend. She’d barely pulled her skis on when the story began tumbling from her lips. It took longer than it should have because Hadley wanted every detail.
“Jumped isn’t entirely accurate.” Ami breathed in the cool, clean air and felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissolve. “I kissed him. He kissed me back.”
“Do you think if I kissed him, he’d kiss me back?”
Ami shot her friend a sharp glance.
“Just kidding.” Hadley laughed. “Seriously, if word got out Beckett Cross was serving kisses, Muddy Boots would be swarming with women.”
Ami wished now she hadn’t brought up the kiss. She didn’t have a clue what was happening between her and Beck, so how could she explain it to Hadley?
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Ami knew she was falling for the man with the soft southern drawl and gentle eyes. What she didn’t know was how to end the free fall.
One thing for certain, the thought of Beck kissing anyone else made her stomach churn. “I don’t believe he’s looking for a relationship.”
“I’m not talking about a relationship.” Hadley gave her a wink and pushed off across a pristine white field edged by a coniferous forest. “I’m talking sex.”
They continued across the field in companionable silence, the soothing sound of skis sliding across the snow only broken by the loud squawk of a raven. The strong scent of pine from the nearby forest hung heavy in the air.
With each push of her poles, the churning in Ami’s stomach became a sharp pain. She shoved past the discomfort of imagining Beck with a faceless female and caught up with Hadley.
“Something else about this Beck thing confuses me.” Hadley inclined her head, her expression mild. “Buying a café in a small town is hardly what you do when you want to be left alone.”
“True,” Ami agreed.
“What brought him here? I mean, what caused him to pick Good Hope as a place to settle?”
“No idea.” That, Ami thought, was a big part of her hesitation to get more deeply involved with the man. She didn’t even know the most basic information about his life before he arrived in Good Hope.
You know everything important, a tiny voice in her head whispered. You know he’s decent, kind, and honorable.
“What does he say when you ask?”
“I don’t ask.”
Hadley skied to a stop beside a large spruce, then studied her friend. “Why not?”
Ami focused on the distance, avoiding Hadley’s scrutinizing gaze. “The way I see it, if Beck wants me to know about his past, he’ll tell me.”
“But—”
“Just like you,” Ami continued. “I don’t pry into your background.”
“You’re right, of course.” Hadley sighed. “I’m just curious. Have you been able to pinpoint his accent?”
“Southern?”
Hadley laughed. “Have you googled him?”
Ami couldn’t help but laugh when her friend wiggled her brows. The mischievous glint in Hadley’s blue eyes reminded her of her sister Marigold, who’d always had some scheme up her sleeve.
“I did a little searching when he first arrived.” Despite the cool air, heat slid up Ami’s neck. The truth was she felt bad about snooping into Beck’s private life. Yet the guilt hadn’t been strong enough to keep her fingers away from the keyboard. “I plugged in a few different variables and tried again last week.”
“I searched yesterday,” Hadley admitted with a cheery smile. “What did you find?”
“Big fat zero.”
“I came up empty, too. We’ll probably never know what brought him here.”
Ami lifted one of her ski poles and pointed at Hadley. “No one can keep their past hidden forever.”
Hadley made a face.
“I’m serious.” Ami spoke with an air of feigned nonchalance even as her heartbeat hitched. “We both know Beck isn’t the only one in Good Hope with a few skeletons in the closet.”
That night Ami enjoyed a simple dinner of pad thai and a green papaya salad while watching the local five o’clock news. Afterward, she hummed along to the Christmas carols playing on her phone while she brought out her slow cooker. While doing her own version of a jingle-bell boogie, she blended whipping cream, milk, vanilla, and white chocolate chips together.
She set the timer on low and glanced at the clock. Two hours should provide more than enough time to pick out a beautiful fir and bring it home from the rotary club’s tree lot.
Her gaze dropped to the large red box covered with white dancing reindeer on the floor, and her excitement surged. In just a couple of hours the ornaments and lights it contained would turn a plain green tree into a thing of holiday splendor.
Ami had a wonderful evening planned for herself. She’d sip snowflake hot cocoa and decorate the tree while listening to the soothing sounds of Norah Jones. Anticipation fueled her steps as she bounded down the stairs and out into the crisp night air. Snow crunched under her boots on the short walk to the Christmas tree lot, located several blocks away. Although most of Ami’s friends preferred to cut their own trees at one of the nearby farms, without a vehicle, Ami didn’t have that option.
As it was, she was going to have to drag the tree home. Which meant size would be a consideration. Still, Ami had no doubt she’d find the perfect tree of her own.
She passed Beck’s house on the way and slowed her steps when she noticed lights on inside. Though she’d seen Beck that morning for coffee, she found herself wishing he was out shoveling so she could stop and talk.
But he didn’t appear, and moments later th
e parking lot edged in Christmas lights came into view. Ami spotted her tree the second she stepped onto the lot. Five feet tall with a lush shape, it was everything she wanted. As she started across the lot to claim it, a spindly hand on her arm stopped her.
Gladys Bertholf, Cherries matriarch and treasurer, smiled up at her. Dressed in a furry black hat with a thick white band and a dark, full-length mink coat, the elderly woman looked as if she’d stepped straight out of the pages of Dr. Zhivago.
“Merry Christmas, Amaryllis.” Gladys’s lips were as red as her cheeks. “I used to tell my beloved Henry, God rest his soul, this is why I never leave home without looking my best.”
She must have looked confused, because Gladys chuckled. “You never know who you might run across.”
Ami resisted the urge to glance down at her fleece-lined jeans and red puffy coat. At least she’d put on mascara that morning. “Have you enjoyed the holidays so far?”
“I have indeed, my dear. It’s been hectic. I’m sure you’ve heard I’m playing the Ghost of Christmas Past in A Christmas Carol at the playhouse. Between rehearsals and three performances a week, most days I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”
The woman’s joyous trill of laughter was infectious.
“The play is getting excellent reviews.”
“I’d tell you to stop by and see it, but I’ve heard you’ve been keeping busy, too.” Gladys’s pale blue eyes danced with amusement. “Kudos to you on getting Mr. Cross to open his home to the tour.”
Ami waved away the compliment.
“I imagine he was happy to do it. For you, Amaryllis.” Gladys gave another hearty laugh. “Not for Eliza.”
Ami wasn’t about to get into that discussion. “Are you here by yourself? Because if you need help loading the tree, I can—”
“You’re so kind, but Frank insisted on coming with me. He’s securing the tree in the trunk now. I offered to help, but my son is old-school. He believes physical work is a man’s job.” Gladys paused as if realizing she’d been rambling. “How about you? Have you found a tree yet?”
“I believe I have.” Ami gestured her head in the direction of the fir.
“You were smart to bring man power.”
“Pardon me?”
“Your man.” Gladys gestured with one hand, the diamond bracelet above the black leather glove catching the light. “I see him right over there.”
Ami didn’t bother to look. Whomever Gladys was looking at certainly wasn’t here with her.
“Well, I’d best scoot. Frank doesn’t like to be kept waiting. See you at the next meeting.”
“Break a leg,” Ami called after Gladys.
The woman lifted a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t turn around.
“Did you really just tell an elderly woman to break her leg?” Amusement filled the deep voice.
Ami’s heartbeat hitched as every synapse in her body pinged with awareness. She slowly turned.
With rumpled hair that brushed the collar of his shirt and cheeks that held a hint of five o’clock shadow, Beck looked sexy as sin. And he smelled terrific, a spicy scent that made her want to step closer.
Ami couldn’t keep the pleasure from her voice. “This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here? I thought your tree was being delivered.”
He chuckled, a low, pleasant rumbling sound. “I’m not here for a tree.”
“Then why?”
“I saw you walk by my house and thought I’d say hello.” When he leaned toward her and lowered his voice, time seemed to stretch and extend. “Hello, Ami.”
Her heart skipped a couple of beats. She grinned. “Hello, Beck.”
“Now, tell me why you told the old woman to break a leg.”
Ami laughed. “Gladys Bertholf is the treasurer of the Cherries. She’s also an actor in A Christmas Carol at the playhouse.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Still looking bemused, Beck shifted his gaze. “Have you found a tree yet?”
“Yes.” Ami slanted a glance in the direction of the balsam fir she’d spotted moments before. Her heart sank. “It’s the one that family is looking at.”
Beck followed her gaze. “You have good taste.”
“If they don’t take it,” she said in a low tone, “I will.”
Even from this distance, she could hear the couple arguing. The woman liked it. The man was insisting it was too small.
“How do you propose to get it home?” Beck’s gaze turned speculative. “Do they deliver?”
“I plan to carry it.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
Beck stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You propose to carry a five-foot-high tree three blocks. By yourself.”
“Easy-peasy.” Ami forced an air of confidence. While she had no doubt she had the strength to drag the tree home, she did harbor a few concerns about what shape the needles would be in once she got there.
“What about your dad?”
“What about him?” Ami’s heart gave a sudden leap when she noticed the couple and their two children moving toward the bigger trees.
“Couldn’t you have asked him to help you?”
With the tree firmly in sight, Ami wove her way toward it.
“My father and I had a little spat the last time I was at his house,” she said over her shoulder. “Besides, he’s probably busy with Anita.”
Beck caught up with her just as she reached the tree. “You could have asked me.”
After placing a proprietary hand on one of the limbs to stake her claim, Ami shook her head. “I’ve already asked too much of you. The last thing I want is for you to think I’m using you. Because I’m not.”
“I know that.”
She widened her eyes at the surety in his tone. “You do?”
“You’re not that type of person.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll make this easy. You don’t have to ask me to help carry the tree to your place, I volunteer.”
It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Though he told her he could carry the tree by himself, she was determined that this be a joint effort. Beck took the base while Ami took charge of the top.
Beck didn’t even look askance when halfway home she burst into song, singing several popular Christmas carols. Once they reached the bakery, he stabilized the tree as she unlocked the door, then waited at the bottom of the steps while she ran up to make sure the path was clear for the tree.
Only minutes later, the tree stood straight and tall in its stand. Thick and full, the perfectly shaped fir’s pleasant wintry smell filled the room.
Ami stepped back, hands on hips, and studied the tree. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” Beck spoke from behind her. “Beautiful.”
When she turned, she discovered him staring at her, not the tree.
Heat rose up her neck, and despite the new furnace’s warmth, Ami shivered. “Thank you again for helping me.”
“It was my pleasure.” His gaze settled on the box at his feet. “Are the ornaments in there?”
She nodded. “I thought I’d put on Norah Jones and do it up right.”
“Need some help?”
“I don’t want to impose—”
“Hey.” The touch of his hand on hers stilled the words. “I offered because I’d like to help. It’ll be our trial run before we do mine. It’s been a very long time since I’ve decorated a tree.”
“Are you saying you’ve been a scrooge?”
He laughed. “According to Max, I still am. But I’ll have you know, until the past couple of years, I always had a tree. A designer was assigned the chore of decorating it.”
Ami frowned. “Decorating is fun, not a chore.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then smiled. “Tell me what to do.”
“Take off your coat and boots and get comfortable.” Even as she instructed, she sat on the sofa and slipped off the UGGs. “I’ll put on Norah. Then we’ll start on the ligh
ts.”
Although Ami’s ornaments were every shape and color, the lights were all a pale pink. When Beck asked why, she told him without a hint of embarrassment that pink was her favorite color. Once the lights were strung, Ami called for a break.
“We just got started,” Beck protested.
“The timer went off.” Ami hurried over to the counter in the kitchen. “It’s snowflake cocoa and candy cane brownie time.”
“In that case”—Beck grinned—“I could use a break.”
Ami asked him to cut two brownies out of the pan while she garnished the cocoa with whipped cream and shards of candy canes.
While they sat at the tiny table across from each other, the pure tones of mellow piano and acoustic guitar enveloped them and brought an air of Christmas magic to the room.
“What’s with the jar?” Beck gestured with his head to where a mason jar sat perched on the counter. Small scraps of green and red paper filled the glass interior.
Ami sipped her cocoa. “It’s my gratitude jar.”
The corner of Beck’s mouth twitched. “A gratitude jar?”
“That’s right. Each day I write down things I’m thankful for on those little pieces of paper. At the end of the month, I open up the jar, read them, and reflect on the blessings in my life.” Ami rose. “I haven’t done mine for today. We can each do one.”
Beck cleared his throat. “I’m not really into such things.”
Ami ignored him, went to a drawer, and pulled out two small strips of paper. After grabbing two pencils, she handed one to Beck and kept one for herself, dropping the strips in front of each of them. “It doesn’t have to be real wordy.”
For a second she thought he might refuse. Then he bent his head and scribbled something. After carefully folding the paper, he handed it to her. She put hers and his in the jar, then took his hand. “Break time is officially over. We have a tree to decorate.”
The next hour passed quickly. Ami couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. Beck was easy to be around and had a sense of humor in sync with her own. Once the ornaments were on, with the star at the top, they stood back and studied their masterpiece. Ami’s heart rose to her throat.
