Christmas on Crimson Mountain

by Michelle Major

  Only April and her girls had been able to manage that.

  He heard a rustling in the doorway and looked up to see April walking toward him. The Christmas lights reflected off her long hair, making the copper highlights dance in their glow.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. She’d laughed and smiled as the girls had decorated the tree earlier, snapping pictures with her phone when Connor lifted Shay to place the star on top. But soon after, she’d grown tired. He could tell it frustrated her, but she’d allowed him to tuck her back in bed.

  “Embarrassed that you’re still having to do the work around here.” A line of tension appeared between her eyes. “I’m fine now and hope by tomorrow morning I’ll be back to normal. If not, I can call Sara and have her find someone to take over for me.”

  He sat forward, placed his drink on the coffee table, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap. “You’re not getting rid of me yet,” he whispered into the curve of her neck. “We’re having Christmas here at the cabin. The four of us.”

  She sighed, her breath a soft wisp at the base of his throat. “It’s not fair—”

  At those words, he barked out a laugh. “We both know life isn’t fair. We also agree this is our time. Right?”

  He felt her nod against him. “I don’t like feeling that I’m not contributing.”

  “You’re the glue holding us together,” he told her, kissing the edge of her jaw. “You make all of this work.”

  She pulled back to look him in the eye. Her brown eyes were wide and uncertain. “But I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Most people don’t,” he said, tracing the delicate skin under her eyes with his thumbs. “They do it anyway.”

  She smiled at that. “It’s close to midnight. What are you doing down here?”

  “I finished the book. I sent it to my editor an hour ago.”

  “Connor, that’s excellent.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. It had been a long time since he’d had good news rewarded with a hug. He was surprised at how much the gesture meant to him. “I’m so proud of you.”

  He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, inching the soft cotton of her pajama top out of the way. “I wasn’t sure I could do it,” he admitted. “I never believed in the concept of a muse, but you’re the reason for this.”

  She let out a breathy sigh that made heat pool low in his belly. “No. You’re the reason. You wrote the words. This is your accomplishment.”

  “I’m glad I get to share it with you.”

  She shifted closer, nipped at the edge of his mouth. “Any ideas on how you want to celebrate?”

  “Mmm.” He lifted the hem of her shirt and splayed his fingers across her back. “Lots of ideas. Creative ones.” He drew back. “But I don’t want to go too fast for you.”

  “I like fast.” Her gaze was cloudy with passion, her skin flushed.

  Damn, she was so beautiful.

  “You’re still recovering.”

  She wiggled her brows. “I like slow, too.” She bit down on her lip. “I feel fine, Connor. My body needs to move. I’m stiff and sore from lying in that bed for so long. So I can either bring out my yoga mat for a stretching series or—”

  “I can help you move those muscles.”

  She nodded. “That’s my preference.” She leaned in close, kissing him in a way that was both an invitation and a demand.

  He couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than with April in his bed. He stood, holding her in his arms as he made his way through the house and up the stairs. When her tongue touched his, he almost tripped into the hallway wall.

  “Hold that thought,” he whispered, pulling away and concentrating on breathing. The last thing he needed was to bang her into something or make so much noise they woke the girls.

  He hurried down the hall into his bedroom, gently nudging shut the door with his heel. “Where were we?” he asked against her mouth.

  The kiss resumed and he quickly tugged his shirt over his head and then grabbed the hem of hers. He would never tire of looking at her body. It was like a breathing work of art, and he had every intention of giving it the adoration it deserved.

  Unlike the first time they’d been together, he took his time with her, kissing and teasing and enjoying the noises she made, every shiver that he felt across her skin. He held the weight of one breast in his hand, bending to lick the rosy tip. When she moaned, he went to his knees in front of her, trailing kisses down her belly to the waistband of her flannel pants. He pulled them over her hips, his breath catching as each perfect inch of her was revealed.

  He touched her, tasted her, and when her legs started to tremble, he scooped her up. Kicking back the covers, he laid her flushed and languid across his bed and was transfixed by her beauty. If the night ended now, he would be content.

  Then she opened her eyes and crooked a finger at him. “This party is just getting started,” she said, and for the rest of the night they celebrated in the best way possible.

  * * *

  April left Connor sleeping in his bed early the next morning. Although she’d only gotten a few hours of rest, she finally felt back to normal. Better than normal. She was content in a way that was new and refreshing, and even if the sensation was fleeting she planned to savor it while it lasted.

  She was also anxious to get back to a routine. Although Connor might like taking care of her, she wouldn’t let herself grow accustomed to it.

  After prepping for a breakfast of pancakes and fruit salad and brewing a pot of coffee, she made her way to the small exercise studio in the basement of the cabin. Cloud Cabin might look rustic, but it was set up with all the modern amenities a guest could want. The room was cool, so she adjusted the thermostat before pulling a yoga mat from the shelf and unrolling it.

  She moved into her first pose, hands clasped in front of her in prayer position and took several deep, cleansing breaths. With each inhalation she could feel herself growing stronger.

  A noise had her whirling toward the door. Ranie stood there watching her, still dressed in her pajama pants and a T-shirt.

  “Are you better?” the girl asked. Her tone was casual, but she worried her hands together nervously as she waited for an answer.

  “I am, sweetie. I’ve got breakfast ready to make, but I thought I’d do a little yoga while everyone else was still sleeping. You’re welcome to join me.”

  April had made the offer to Ranie each time she’d started a session of yoga, but the girl had always turned away. This morning she took a hesitant step forward. “I’m not very athletic,” she muttered. “I’m always on the C team for sports at school.”

  “Yoga is a balance between the spiritual and the physical. It can calm your mind at the same time it works your body.” She moved to the bookshelf and took out another yoga mat. “The beautiful thing is that anyone can benefit from it.”

  “In that case, you’d better grab two mats.”

  At the sight of Connor standing in the doorway, a jolt of awareness went through April. All the things they’d done last night, the ways he’d touched her, came rushing into her mind and she had to look away. When she glanced back, he was grinning as if he knew exactly where her mind had gone. He was wearing a faded T-shirt that fit tightly over the broad planes of his chest and a pair of baggy basketball shorts.

  “You do yoga?” Ranie asked doubtfully.

  “No. Do you?”

  “Yes.” Ranie bit on the edge of her fingernail. “I’m starting this morning.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Guys don’t do yoga,” she told him with a sniff.

  “Of course they do,” April said before Connor could answer. “Both men and women have practiced it for centuries.” She rolled out the two mats next to each other a few feet behind hers and the
n pushed a piece of weight equipment off to the side. “Lots of famous men do yoga. Like Sting.”

  Connor came to help her move the heavy bar. “We know what he’s famous for,” he whispered, low enough that Ranie wouldn’t hear.

  April rolled her eyes, remembering the famous musician’s quote from the early nineties when he’d extolled the virtue of tantric sex. She’d just gotten her teaching license then and there’d been a short-term upswing in couples joining the studio where she worked.

  “Who’s Sting?” Ranie asked, coming to stand on her mat.

  Connor turned to her. “You’re kidding, right? Tell me you know who the Beatles are.”

  “Of course.” Ranie shrugged. “Mom had one of those cars for a while but decided it wasn’t big enough.”

  He thumped the heel of his hand to his forehead. “For Christmas, little girl, I’m getting you an old-school turntable and a stack of albums.”

  Ranie flashed a calculating smile. “How about a subscription to Spotify?”

  “How about we get started so we’re not eating breakfast for lunch?” April stepped onto her mat, then glanced at Ranie. “Sting is a singer. He was in a band called The Police before launching an übersuccessful solo career.”

  Ranie’s expression remained blank. “Never heard of him. Mom only liked country music.”

  “Never heard of Sting?” Connor asked, clasping a hand to his chest, his tone pleading. “Start the yoga before this girl reduces me to tears.”

  “There are different schools of yoga. I primarily teach in the Vinyasa tradition, which links your breath to movements. We’ll start with sun salutations.” The studio was warmer now, or maybe it was Connor’s intense gaze on her. She shrugged out of her sweatshirt, leaving her in only a pale yellow athletic tank top over a sports bra.

  She moved into the first pose, explaining the purpose and how they should be breathing as they moved. From there they continued with the series, focusing on synchronizing their breath through each one. Despite claiming not to be an athlete, Ranie had a natural grace as she moved her body into each new position.

  Connor was another story. He was in shape but, in the way of many men, clearly he hadn’t paid any attention to his flexibility. He wobbled as he held downward-facing dog and landed facedown on his mat when he tried to straighten from another position.

  Ranie giggled as she watched him, which he didn’t seem to mind. April shifted into her role as teacher like slipping into a favorite pair of jeans. One of the best things about teaching was working with new students, helping them find the ease within the effort of the poses and connect the body with each breath.

  Almost an hour later she took one last breath, completing the final sequence. “How do you feel?” she asked both Connor and Ranie.

  “That was...” As Ranie searched for the right word, April held her breath. Somehow, what this girl thought about the practice April loved mattered on a deep, soul level. After a moment, Ranie smiled. “It was awesome. I could do that every day.”

  A bubble of pure joy burst in April’s chest, sending happiness radiating through her. “You can do it every day. Yoga will go with you wherever you are.” She gentled her tone, hoping Ranie would accept her next words. “I remember coming to visit your mom when you were just a toddler. We did yoga each morning, and you’d be right there with us. Crescent lunge was your favorite. Every time we turned around, you’d be in that pose.”

  “Mom had a framed photo of me like that in her bedroom,” Ranie said with a nod. “I’m going to go upstairs and get dressed. Shay will be waking soon.”

  “What about you?” April turned to Connor.

  “Well,” he began, tapping a finger on his chin as if debating. Suddenly he reached out and yanked her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, his hands moving up and down her back, sending shivers of sensation wherever he touched. “I don’t know that I’m cut out for yoga, but watching you do it is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

  She laughed against his mouth. “You just liked seeing me bend over.”

  He pulled away, his green eyes so bright they looked like spring grass after a heavy rain. “That’s an added benefit. But you’re a natural teacher. The way you worked with both of us and kept things moving and clearly have so much passion for what you do. Why don’t you teach classes full-time?”

  “Mostly I do,” she said, stepping out of his embrace and rolling up the mats. He grabbed the one he’d been using but continued to watch her. “Remember, I’m here as a favor to Sara. But I had to sell my studio in California after my divorce to pay for the medical bills insurance didn’t cover. It was another painful reminder of how cancer had changed my life. There was a full year I couldn’t do yoga. The very thought of moving into a pose made me sick to my stomach.”

  His gaze turned solemn. “I get that. You know I get that.”

  “It was different. Losing your family and losing my business don’t even show up on the same radar. I’m embarrassed at how I let the circumstances of my life define who I was.” The understanding that she still did that, although it wasn’t as obvious from the outside, shamed her. But she didn’t think she was strong enough to overcome any more than she already had.

  “But now you’re teaching again?”

  “I started doing classes for the guests at Crimson Ranch. A studio near Aspen asked me to be one of their instructors and, eventually, that became where I work most often. A lot of people who visit this area want to keep up with their practice while they’re here and fitness is important to many locals, too. It’s good for their bodies to balance out all that skiing and rock climbing.”

  “And running on the treadmill,” he added, pointing a finger at his own chest.

  “That, too,” she agreed. “And I like to stay busy.”

  “You like to take care of people.”

  “Yes.” She paused in the act of returning the mats to their place on the shelf. “The woman who currently owns the studio has offered to sell it to me.”

  “Perfect,” he told her, taking the yoga mats from her hands. “When will that be finalized?”

  She laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I haven’t agreed to anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Owning a studio is a big responsibility.”

  “You’ve done it before, and you loved it.”

  “Things were different then.”

  “Things are different now.”

  She shook her head. “Not in the same way. I should get moving on breakfast.” She started for the door. “Thanks for being game to do a session with me. I think—”

  “Hold on.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her to face him. “Don’t blow me off, April.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want to own a studio again?”

  “Maybe I want to keep my options open. I have nothing tying me down right now. I can take off on a moment’s notice if I want to. I’m a total free spirit.”

  At those words he flashed her a doubtful smile. “You’re the least likely person to ‘take off’ that I know.”

  She bristled at the words, even though they were true.

  “That’s not a criticism. I like how grounded you are, but it’s clear this community and the people in it mean something to you. This is your home. You love teaching yoga. Why wouldn’t you want to have your own studio again? Is it the money? Because I—”

  “It’s not the money, and I’m not taking any of yours.” She tried to pull away, but he held her steady. “What if I bought the studio and then I got sick again?” Unable to continue meeting his gaze, she focused on a small patch of sweat on the front of his T-shirt.

  “What if you crossed the street and got hit by a car?” he asked in response.

  “It’s not the same thing.”
>
  “It is,” he argued. “You’ve told me you’ve made it to the five-year-survival milestone. Even I know that’s a big deal. Yes, there’s a risk that you’ll get sick again. There’s a better chance that you’ll stay healthy. There are no guarantees in life, and you can’t just dump something that means so much to you because you’re afraid it might not work.”

  “Does that apply only to me or are you going to take your own advice?”

  “I finished the book.”

  “I’m not talking about the book,” she snapped. “I’m talking about the self-imposed isolation you plan to return to after Christmas. I’m talking about opening yourself to the possibility of being happy again. Of loving—”

  “No.” He released her so abruptly she stumbled back a step. “That part of me is gone. It died with Margo and Emmett.”

  “I’ve seen how you are with the girls,” she argued. She wouldn’t mention the way he made her feel. This wasn’t about the two of them. This was him needing to admit he could love again. Even if it wasn’t with her, he deserved a second chance at love. “You’re not dead, Connor. You’re here. Now.”

  “Don’t try to fix me, April.” The words weren’t angry, only empty, which was worse. “I told you I don’t have anything to give. I don’t deserve...” He broke off, stalked to the edge of the room and back to her. “I’m not going there with you. If you want to live your simple little life, it’s none of my business. In a few days, I’ll be on a plane back to California. We have no hold on each other. Right now, what matters to both of us is Ranie and Shay. It’s Christmas Eve, and I don’t want to fight.”

  “Me neither,” she whispered, although it was a lie. She wanted to push and prod this man until he admitted his heart was capable of mending. But he was right—she had no hold on him. And how could she pressure him for something she wasn’t willing to give? Because in a few days, she’d be on a plane returning those girls to California. No matter what. “My friend Katie texted last night. She’s closed the bakery to customers today and is hosting an open house for family and friends.”