Lydia had chosen only one box of items that she wanted to send back to Philly, things she wanted to keep. When she’d come across an old set of woodworking tools of her father’s, she asked Ely if he would like them. He clearly enjoyed working with wood, and had seemed very touched by the offer, accepting. Lydia figured he’d earned it, he’d done so much to help her fix up the house.
Her father would have liked him. In fact, Ely reminded her a little of him, in his personality more than his looks. Her father had been a wiry, strong, energetic man whom Lydia strongly resembled with her dark hair, though she was petite like her mother.
Ely had her father’s steadiness, though, that solid-as-a-rock quality that made you believe everything would be okay as long as they were around. They were both committed family men who liked to work with their hands. She watched as he laughed with Geri, the two of them stringing popcorn and berries for the Christmas trees. Ely was also slated to go with the men to pick up the trees later that afternoon, and tomorrow they would all spend the afternoon decorating the trees outdoors. On the night of the festival, gifts were put under the trees for local families who didn’t have much of their own.
Lydia had donated several things from the house to be given as gifts; Faith assured her that not everything had to be from a store. Many of her mother’s things, and the warm coats, especially, were very good quality and in excellent condition, and would be appreciated as gifts.
Unlike her, Ely really seemed to be enjoying himself. He bent down to pick up something from his toolbox, neatly snipping the string and tying it off. As he did so, his eyes met hers across the room, and he winked. It was so fast Lydia thought she might have missed it, but then he bent down to the floor, apparently for her benefit, his jeans showing off his perfect butt. That made her smile; he was such a goof.
Geri caught her attention, and smiled, too, as if the older woman knew exactly what was going on. Lydia went back to replacing her lightbulbs. She and Ely may have missed their chance earlier, but maybe things could rekindle later, after everyone was gone, she thought hopefully.
Feeling suddenly antsy, she stood, letting the string of lights fall from her hands.
“Are you okay, Lydia?” Julie asked, noticing her abrupt movement.
Faith’s sister had clearly been through the ringer, and from what Faith said, it was a miracle to even get her to leave the house. Julie’s husband had left her, Roger was in trouble, and she was about to lose her home, and Lydia’s self-indulgent agitation disappeared. Lydia had no problems at all compared to what Julie was going through.
Faith seemed happy that her sister was here, but tense, as well, bending over backward to get her involved, cheer her up. Lydia supposed she could stop being such a crank and help with that.
“I’m fine. I just need to stretch my legs. I’ll be right back,” she said, needing a few minutes to herself, but also thinking she could make some hot chocolate while she was in the kitchen. Her mother’s recipe was the best in the world, and everyone deserved a treat. As much as she wasn’t in the Christmas spirit, Lydia would never have been able to get the attic cleared out on her own, and the girls had done a great job, finishing it in a day.
This was one way she could say thank you, she thought, putting on a huge pot of milk and mixing up the chocolate powder, sugar and spices. Brown sugar and cinnamon were secrets to her mother’s recipe, along with lots of vanilla, and Lydia improvised a bit, adding her own spice.
Soon, the kitchen smelled heavenly. Lydia was setting out mugs on the counter when the swing door that led into the kitchen creaked, and she turned to find Ely crossing to her. Without preamble he pressed her into the counter with all six-foot-plus of his body and captured her mouth in a surprise kiss that made her toes curl.
She forgot about everything else in one second flat and snuggled in as close as she could, wanting to swallow him whole.
“Something smells amazing in here,” he said against her neck, jerking her back into the moment and reminding her that if she didn’t want to start from scratch, she had to turn the heat off under the pot.
She pushed away, reluctantly, doing just that.
“You almost made me burn the chocolate,” she scolded, taking the pot off the heat and going to search the refrigerator for some of the canned whipped cream she had seen in there earlier.
“Ah, there it is,” she said, reaching in and grabbing it, turning back to find Ely pouring the hot chocolate into mugs.
He was like that. He just jumped in and helped, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Thanks,” she said, poised with the whipped cream and cinnamon sugar to put on top.
“This is incredible,” he said, rubbing his finger along the side of the pot and licking it, his eyes closing with a low moan.
Lydia’s blood pressure skyrocketed, watching him. He swiped some more of the chocolate and offered it to her. She accepted it, drawing his finger in, watching his eyes darken as she let her tongue play a little before she let him go.
“That is good,” she said huskily.
He looked like he wanted to jump her right there and then, and it made her smile. “Help me carry these in?”
“Only if you promise to save some of that whipped cream for later.”
“I promise.” No problem there. She grinned.
They carried in trays of the steaming hot chocolate, greeted with gasps of surprise and pleasure, and Lydia felt herself blushing under the profuse praise everyone offered as they enjoyed the treat.
“It’s Mom’s recipe. I just put it on the stove,” she demurred, but they continued to sing her praises.
“Your mother often made hot chocolate for one of the festival booths, and cookies, too,” Geri commented. “And it was always delicious, but you added a little something else here, didn’t you?”
Lydia nodded. “I went to Mexico once on vacation, and they like to put chili pepper in their chocolate. I put a tiny amount of cayenne in there, just to spice it up, but not too much, I hope?”
Geri rolled her eyes back after taking another sip. “Not too much at all. This is transcendent. Thank you.”
Others echoed her sentiments, and Lydia hoped they weren’t going to ask her to make the chocolate for the festival. She didn’t mind helping prepare, especially in trade for help with the house, but she had no plans to attend, herself. She couldn’t bear the idea of people’s curiosity and questions, or possibly bumping into Ginny or any of her family. She figured she would spend the weekend in town, or at least, in the house, working.
Getting ready to go.
“Lydia, did you hear?” Ely prompted, leaning in and nudging her with his knee.
“What? I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”
“Well, we were hoping you would make your hot chocolate for the festival, but then Megan had a better idea,” Faith said, smiling at Geri’s eldest daughter.
Lydia’s hopes failed as she realized she wasn’t going to be able to sidestep the issue after all. She imagined they weren’t going to be very happy after she had to refuse to take part, and in front of everyone here who had been so happy a few minutes before.
Megan smiled excitedly. “Laura and I had the idea, actually,” she said, crediting her sister. “We thought you could do tattoos for the festival. Not real ones, but temporary, like they do at the fair. Henna or something. We love yours,” she said admiringly, her eyes landing on the ink that was visible on Lydia’s arms and throat, revealed by the T-shirt she had changed into after coming inside.
“Oh, I don’t know that anyone would—”
“Oh, they would! My friends would all want one, and I want one. We could charge something that would cover your supplies, and the rest could go to the local horse rescue organization, or whatever charity you want, but Laura and I were hoping you could help support the horses,” Megan said. “Things are tough for them this time of year.”
“Megan is studying to be a large animal veterinarian,” Geri said prou
dly. “Laura wants to be a teacher.”
All eyes on her, Lydia froze, unsure how to respond.
“I don’t know. I would need supplies, and I probably couldn’t do it outdoors, the ink would freeze, and it could be expensive—” she stuttered, flustered and trying to find a way to get out of this.
“There’s a place in the city that has supplies,” Laura said easily, so intent on their plan that they didn’t even notice Lydia’s anxiety. “We can make sure to charge a price to cover them, and you could have a booth in the garage, with a heater, so it would be comfortable,” she said, defeating every one of Lydia’s arguments.
“Um, well,” Lydia said, still scrambling for something to say other than that she didn’t want to.
“The horse rescue really needs the funds. I kind of promised them that we’d find a way for the festival to help,” Megan said, clearly more apprehensive, noting Lydia’s lack of enthusiasm.
“We can get one of the other vendors to put in a percentage,” Geri said, clearly stopping her daughters from applying too much pressure.
“But, mom, the tattoos would bring in so much more, and it would help so many more of the horses,” Laura said, clearly not wanting to give up.
Lydia was trapped. How could she say no to rescue horses? She’d had a horse of her own that her father had rescued when she was a girl, and she knew what the animals suffered if organizations didn’t help them. She made regular donations through her business to many charities, but here she had a chance to act directly, through her art.
“I could probably only do very small, pre-patterned tats, nothing too fancy,” she said haltingly. “But the supplies are on me. I don’t want to take any of the donations away from helping those horses.”
Ely squeezed her thigh in approval, and much to her surprise, Megan and Laura launched themselves at her, knocking her back on the sofa in a full-body hug with profuse thanks.
The girls were even more psyched as they went back to work and cleared up the mugs as the preparations for the festival continued. Ely was heading out with the guys to go pick up the load of Christmas trees, and before he went, he dipped down to kiss her—in front of everyone.
“See you later,” he said close to her ear, and added, “You’re doing a good thing. You have a good soul, Lydia,” he said, kissing her on the temple, leaving her feeling flustered.
Then he was out the door, and Geri, Faith, Julie and the rest were staring at her with knowing glances.
“You are one lucky woman, Lydia,” Faith said with a gusty sigh, watching Ely leave.
“I told you, it’s not like that, we’re only—” She stopped and noted Geri’s cautioning gaze toward her daughters, whose ears were perked in their direction. “Friends. We’re only friends.”
“Yep, that looked very friendly to me,” Julie said, really smiling for the first time that night, and they all laughed.
Even Lydia felt a little flicker of Christmas spirit, in spite of herself. Or maybe she was just looking forward to using that whipped cream with Ely when he returned home later.
* * *
“LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE one extra,” Ely said, surprising Lydia as he came through the door dragging a humongous tree behind him.
Lydia had managed to clean up most of the detritus from the decorating and the work on the house, and she watched as he stood the tall tree up in a corner by the front windows. For a moment, she was blasted back to the past, remembering when she and her father used to do the same thing, going out to find the perfect tree, taking it home and standing it up in that very spot.
“But...I don’t need a tree,” she said.
“Everyone needs a tree. They had extra at the farm, and I couldn’t resist. God knows we have enough decorations,” he said. “C’mon, it will be fun.”
Lydia knew she was going to cave. The tree was perfect.
“I’ll go fish out the stand I found earlier,” she said, heading down to the basement.
A few minutes later, they had the tree standing on its own in the corner, admiring its shape before they decorated it.
“I haven’t had a tree in so many years, I forgot how much I like them,” she said as she reached forward to touch the bristly needles.
“Well, you have about a dozen outside, and I’m glad you like this one. I picked it out myself,” Ely said, his hand resting at the nape of her neck under her hair, where he massaged her gently.
“This one has to be the prettiest,” she complimented, enjoying the moment.
“Not as pretty as you,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
She laughed at the silly compliment. “Sure, compare me to a tree.”
“And one with needles at that,” he said with a grin, earning himself a playful punch to the middle.
They both began to pull out a few of her family’s decorations—not the ones for festival use—and before long, the tree looked magnificent, lighting the room with twinkling lights all reflecting off of many ornaments she remembered from when she was a girl. Ely had built a beautiful fire in the fireplace, and everything was just perfect.
And not.
Lydia felt her throat constrict, and didn’t realize her hand had tightened considerably on Ely’s as they admired their work.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” she said, feeling like an idiot and swiping at her eyes. “My mom would have loved this. She loved Christmas, and decorating the tree. Many of these ornaments were her favorites.”
“Then that makes it even more special,” Ely said, slipping his arm around her and bringing her in close.
That didn’t help, and Lydia was helpless to stop the rush of emotions that surged to the surface.
“I should have been here more. I wasted so many years. I should have been home for Christmas,” she said, tears coming whether she wanted them to or not. She buried her face in Ely’s shoulder, and let them, and he simply held her while she did.
When she calmed down a little, they stayed that way, and she sighed against Ely.
“I’m such a mess,” she mumbled against his sweater.
“You’re allowed,” he said, and didn’t try to fix things or tell her what the answers were.
He was just there.
“What would your mom say to you now, if she was listening in?” he asked.
Lydia thought about it. “She’d say don’t cry over spilled milk, and that carrying around regrets doesn’t help anyone,” Lydia answered honestly. Her mother had told her that more than once over the years. “She’d probably also say why are you crying and being all morose when you have that hot hunk of a man in your living room and a can of whipped cream in the refrigerator?”
Ely pulled back and gave her a look that made her laugh.
“Well, okay, maybe not the whipped cream part. That was mine,” Lydia said, feeling lighter again.
“Your mother sounds like she had her priorities straight,” Ely said, and nuzzled into her neck, making her sadness burn off in a whole new wave of sensation.
“I’ve done a lot of things, but none of them by the light of a freshly decorated Christmas tree before,” she whispered provocatively in his ear.
“I’ll get the whipped cream,” Ely said without preamble and was gone so fast he left her laughing again.
Closing the curtains and stripping down to her undies, Lydia had a sudden burst of inspiration and dug quickly through one of the festival boxes, retrieving a fur-lined Santa hat and strap-on white beard that she’d remembered seeing there. She put them on and then launched herself onto the couch, affecting a sexy pose just as Ely turned the corner into the room.
“So what do you want for Christmas?” she said in a low, Santa-like voice.
He made a full stop, his face crumpling into more laughter as he stripped down and joined her. Lydia knew it was a long time since she had laughed as hard as she did as she tried to kiss him through the faux beard. Finally, it was removed and Lydia was glad as Ely took full possession of her mouth with no obstacle
s between them.
Their underwear went the way of the beard and their other clothing as Ely made his way down her body, her giggles dissolving to sighs. As he grabbed the can of whipped cream, he sent her a hot look and a wicked smile.
“The hat can stay on,” was all he said before his mouth and his hands made her lose her mind, and Lydia was happy to let him.
11
ELY THOUGHT HE might be hearing jingle bells, but then realized it was his phone ringing. Somewhere.
Lifting carefully up from the sofa where Lydia was curled up sound asleep, he looked at the clock and saw it was a little past ten. Throwing a few more pieces of wood on the fire, he stoked it to keep the room warm. The oil company had delivered their fuel, but Ely loved the heat from the fire.
“Yeah?” he said, grabbing the phone from where it had fallen out of his jeans pocket on the floor, not bothering to see who it was.
“Ely,” Jonas said, sounding serious.
“Jon. You’re up late. Everything okay?” he said, stretching. Lydia had exhausted him.
“Just catching up on the day and I figured you’d still be up. I just got a report faxed to me from a buddy at the FBI—I called in a little quid pro quo for the project we’re working on now, and he did some digging—some deep digging, on your guy, Kyle.”
Ely’s tiredness evaporated as he grabbed his clothes and pulled them on.
“Tell me.”
“He’s undercover DEA,” Jonas said gravely. “His real name is Ian Riley. There’s a drug cartel running a daisy-chain of meth labs all over the Midwest, and Clear River has been targeted as one of the locations. What did you land yourself in the middle of, there, Ely?” he said, clearly worried.
Kyle? With the Feds, and a Drug Enforcement Officer at that?
And on Lydia’s ranch? Was this just his cover, or was Lydia in more danger than they had thought? But why?
Hers for the Holidays Page 13
