by Lori Wilde
“That’s you and me,” he said. “And one day we’re going to have Christmas in a town just like this one. Just the two of us.”
“Mom and Dad won’t be there?”
“They’re not here now, are they?”
“Just you and me?”
“Just you and me. We’ll talk to Santa and tell him what we want for Christmas and we’ll go skating on the ice rink and we’ll ride in a horse-drawn carriage and we’ll drink hot chocolate and we’ll sing carols and we’ll eat candy canes and we’ll bake cookies …” His voice trailed off because he was having trouble catching his breath.
Gabi had looked into his eyes and instantly known the truth. They would never have Christmas in the snow globe town. Not just because they couldn’t shrink themselves small enough to enter that imaginary world, but because Derrick was dying.
“I can save you,” she whispered, and rubbed her hip where the scars were. “I can give you more.”
“No, pipsqueak.” Derrick ruffled her hair. “You’ve done enough. There’s no saving me now. It’s time to let me go.”
Gabi’s tummy hurt so much she couldn’t catch her breath and tears were streaming down her face. She jumped from the bed, raced out into the hallway, running past doctors and nurses and visitors, the snow globe clutched desperately in her hands, her heart unraveling in her chest.
Derrick died on Christmas morning.
And the snow globe became her most precious possession. It was her last link to the big brother she adored, but had failed to save.
Hot tears burned the back of her hand as she stared down at the snow globe. Her fingers stroked the key on the bottom. The key that Derrick’s fingers had touched that last Christmas Eve they’d had together.
She turned the key, sang along to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in a wavering voice.
Her tears quickened, and for a long moment, she simply let them fall. Finally, she shook her head, ran a palm down her face, sniffled into her sleeve. It had been seventeen years since she’d lost her brother, but the pain was just as sharp as it had been on that long-ago day.
Enough of that. The past couldn’t be changed. But the future sure could, and of that she was certain.
By a twist of fate, at a time she needed it most, Gabi had manage to find a town that could have passed for the one in the snow globe. A pretty little town filled with Christmas spirit.
The snow globe calmed her. Her touchstone. Without ever knowing it, Derrick had given her the way back to herself. The self buried deep beneath the layers of worry and grief. The snow globe was her shovel and she was excavating the real Gabi before she disappeared forever.
“I’m going to make this the best Christmas memory ever,” she vowed. “You’re here with me in spirit, Derrick. It’s as close as we can get.”
She was going to do all those things in Twilight that they’d talked about. Christmas things her family had stopped doing since Derrick’s death. She would go ice skating and caroling and carriage riding and eat and drink and decorate and bake. By God, she would make the best Christmas memories ever. It was her first big step toward creating the life she wanted for herself, even if she wasn’t quite yet sure what that life would look like.
And what about Joe Cheek? Was he part of the memory making? Where did he fit in? Or did he fit in at all?
Gabi reached up to finger her lips still tingly from Joe’s kiss. Why were her lips still tingling after all this time?
It was because he had rough beard stubble, she told herself, but that was bunk. Her lips were still tingling because she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss and how she had not only not tried to stop him from kissing her, but she’d actively participated. Kissing strangers was not her modus operandi. In fact, she’d never before kissed a stranger. While it had felt odd and uncomfortable, it had also been fun and exhilarating and …
Admit it. You liked kissing him, Miss Slutty-Slut-Slut.
Yes, okay. She had liked kissing him. She’d liked it a lot.
Big deal. Nothing was going to come of it. It wasn’t like she was going to tumble into bed with him. Which was good. Perfect in fact. Yay her. No bedding He-Man.
Why not?
Why not? Well … well … because she was here to sort herself out, and to honor Derrick’s memory. Not to have a wild fling.
Why not?
Because it was pretty presumptuous to assume Joe wanted to go to bed with her in the first place.
Um, yoo-hoo, were you not there for that kiss? He is so into you.
Yes, but he wasn’t into complicated. He’d said as much. And her situation was definitely complicated.
But it could be so simple. A fling and nothing more.
Stop thinking about the man.
He’d kissed her to scare off her hiccups and it had worked. It was the only thing that had ever worked. She was grateful. That’s all it was.
She needed to do something. Activity would take her mind off Joe, and her loneliness.
Action. That was the ticket.
She wasn’t a whiner. Never had been and she wasn’t about to start now. Unpack. There was an activity.
Except her luggage was still in the car.
Out there.
In the dark.
Gabi put on her coat, sucked in a fortifying breath, and ventured out onto the wooden deck. Apparently, there were no porch lights on a yurt, but there was a vapor security lamp on a tall pole by the road. But while it wasn’t completely pitch black, there were a lot of dark shadows between the steps and Katie’s Camry.
No worries. She hadn’t been afraid of the dark since she was nine.
The moist dirt undulated as if it had once been a cultivated field, high where plants would have grown, lower where there would have been rows.
Gabi eased forward, careful where she put her feet. She was halfway to the car when the wind changed directions and brought with it the yip-yip squeals and howls of coyotes.
Instantly, the hairs on her arm lifted and her knees loosened.
The creatures sounded close.
Very close.
And she was terrified of coyotes. Ever since she and her best friend, Bailey, had gotten lost during a hike in Yosemite and found themselves cornered by a pack of the snarling beasts, the sound of coyotes’ eerie night cries sent shivers shooting down her spine. If a park ranger hadn’t come along when he did …
The yelping intensified.
Gabi froze, keys in her hand, not knowing whether she should race for the car or go back to the yurt. All she could think about was the snarling hot breaths of the wild canines that had backed her and Bailey against a sheer rock formation. Instantly, Gabi’s chest was bathed in sweat as her palms and feet turned icy.
“Critter-proof fence.”
Gabi shrieked and whirled around.
Joe stepped from the darkness, his teeth flashing white with his smile. Over his blue flannel shirt he’d put on the leather jacket again—the one he’d been wearing when he’d come into Perks—and a brown felt Stetson, looking all cowboy-cool and drool-worthy hot.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said levelly. “Just wanted to let you know that three sides of the property are secured with a critter-proof fence. This used to be a watermelon field.”
“You came back just to tell me that?”
“And to check on you.”
“You don’t have to keep checking on me constantly. I’m okay.”
“If you’d give me your phone number, I could text you instead of having to pop over.”
He had a point. “Fine, I’ll text you my phone number,” she said.
“Thank you.”
A fresh chorus of howls stirred the air and she was glad he was here. “Those coyotes sound so close,” she said, surprised at how shaky her voice came out, and from the look in his eyes, she knew he heard it too—her uncertainty, her loneliness, her fear.
“Sound really carries far when you’re this close to the lake,” he explained. “I promise
the coyotes are a good mile away.”
She shivered, hating that she appeared so vulnerable. “How can you tell?”
“Experience. I’ve listened to a lot of coyote howling.”
She hiccupped, a small one because she was trying hard to hold it back. She certainly didn’t want him kissing her again. Especially out here in the dark.
“You’re scared.” He sounded vaguely surprised.
“No,” she denied. Hell yes, she was scared, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Keep lying like that and your pants will catch fire.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’m scared. I’m new in town, I had a run-in once with coyotes in Yosemite, and it’s very dark out here.”
“That’s the reason I came back.” He pulled a heavy black flashlight from the pocket of his jacket. “Thought you could use this. Electricity can be unreliable in the yurt, especially this time of year.”
“Th-th-thanks.” Oh great, now she was going to add stuttering on top of the hiccups? She took the flashlight. It was warm where he’d been gripping it and she stuck it into her pocket, felt the weight of it against her hipbone.
He cocked his head, studied her, and she really didn’t know what else to say so she rounded the back of the Camry to the trunk. She opened the trunk, stared down at her luggage, struggled to whip her heart rate under control.
“Here.” He came up behind her.
The heat of his breath tickled the back of her head. A helpless shiver shook her spine as tiny earthquakes of awareness detonated inside her. Slowly, she went for a bag.
“Let me help with that.”
Before she could tell him that she had it, he reached around her and grabbed the handles of both suitcases.
His shoulder brushed against hers. She told herself it was an accident, but was it?
“I can schlep my own things,” she protested.
“I know you can,” he said in an agreeable tone that seemed to indicate he had no idea why she was against him helping her. She wasn’t against it really. Not in theory anyway, but with him standing here, his masculine scent invading her personal space, his body heat radiating all over the place, well, she really didn’t know how to handle it. “But why should you when I’m here to do it for you?”
He sounded so reasonable. Was she being silly turning down his help? Why was she turning down his help? Oh yeah, he unnerved her.
“I don’t like owing people,” she said, following after him. “Just because you cured my hiccups and you’re carrying in my luggage doesn’t mean you can take advantage.”
He stopped and turned to face her, suitcases held lightly in his strong arms, and leveled her a long, hard stare. “What in the Sam Hill are people like where you come from? I’m just being neighborly. I don’t expect a damn thing from you, Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle. On his tongue, her name sounded like a caress.
She felt her face flush. She did that a lot around him. Blushed. “I didn’t mean—hic—” Gabi slapped a palm over her mouth. C’mon. No. Just no.
His gaze hooked on her lips, and a simmer of a smile crawled across his face, and she thought, If he kisses me again, I will just have to take him to bed and let the chips fall where they may.
“I hope wherever my sister is staying she has a kind neighbor who will look after her the way I’m looking after you.” The expression in his eyes made her feel ashamed for thinking he had ulterior motives.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “My mistake.”
He snorted and stalked up the deck ahead of her. He switched both suitcases to one arm so he could jiggle the front door open. Once inside, he set the luggage over the threshold and stepped back.
Her feet were rooted to the floor of the deck, the sound of the rowdy coyotes growing more distant, but her anxiety rocketing to new heights.
Joe walked back down the steps, strolled past her, slowing only long enough to tip his hat and give her a sardonic smile. “You have a nice night.”
“Thank you,” she called lightly to his retreating back. She’d made a mistake and she felt disappointed.
In him?
Or herself?
She wasn’t quite sure. Maybe both.
“You gotta trust people to do right by you once in a while, Trouble,” he tossed over his shoulder as the darkness swallowed him up. “Or you’ll end up sad and alone.”
“Too late,” she whispered, because she was already there.
CHAPTER 5
Christmas is not an external event at all, but a piece of one’s home that one carries in one’s heart.
—Freya Stark
Blowing out her breath through clenched teeth, Gabi went inside, carried the suitcases to the bed, and set about unpacking. She wondered how Katie was faring in LA. Because she was feeling sad and alone—yes, thank you, Joe Cheek, for throwing that in her face—she brewed herself a cup of tea, settled onto the sofa, got out her phone, and texted Katie.
Arrived safe & sound. U?
A moment later, Gabi’s cell phone rang with Katie’s name on her caller ID. Gabi answered. “Hello?”
“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you tell me you were rich!” Katie exclaimed. “This place is posh, and your car! And here I stuck you in a yurt. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Gabi tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder and walked over to the fireplace to toss a fresh log onto the fire. “I love the yurt. It’s great.”
“No, this is great,” Katie said. “I can walk to the beach. The Pacific Ocean is just steps away. And I think I might even have seen Chris Hemsley!”
“The beach loses its charm after a while.”
“How is that possible?”
“Sand gets everywhere.”
“Big deal. It’s worth it. Oh hang on a minute,” Katie said. “I just got a text.”
Gabi leaned her head back against the fireplace mantel, the cell phone pressed against her ear. She wondered what there was in the kitchen to eat and almost went to check, but Katie came back.
“It’s my brother¸” she said.
“Joe?” Gabi asked, goose bumps chilling her skin.
“Yes, Joe. Did you tell him I was in LA?”
“No. I didn’t tell him. I promise.” She went back to the couch, curled her feet up underneath her.
“Somehow, he must have figured it out.”
“He asked, but I told him it wasn’t my place to say where you were.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Katie reassured her. “It’s no biggie.”
“I think I might have ticked him off,” Gabi fretted. It bothered her to think he might be mad at her. She hated for people to get mad at her.
“You didn’t tick him off. Joe is so easygoing. It takes a lot to tick him off,” Katie said. “Out of curiosity, what did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything about you or where you’d gone. Even though he kept trying to trip me up. He did guess that I was from a big city.”
“He asked me how the weather was in California.” Katie sighed.
Gabi groaned. “I did let something slip about Yosemite. I guess he took a stab that I was from California.”
“Word to the wise. Joe is very sharp.”
“How come you don’t want your family to know where you are?” Gabi asked.
“Why didn’t you tell your folks where you were going?” Katie countered.
Why? Because she needed some space to figure out how she was going to tell them she had quit law school. “I see your point. I’m sorry I let the cat out of the bag.”
“It’s not your fault,” Katie said. “And really my whereabouts are no big secret. It’s just when you live in a small town everyone knows your business. I was feeling defenseless and I wanted something just for me, you know?”
“I do know.”
“Of course you do. You’re living in Twilight in a yurt.”
Gabi laughed, but it wasn’t really all that funny. “Looks like we’ve both got a
lot to sort out.”
“You can go ahead and tell my family where I am,” Katie said. “I don’t know what I was thinking trying to keep my whereabouts a secret. They never let anything lie.”
“It’s nice though,” she said. “That your family cares that much.”
“Both a blessing and a curse.”
“Have my parents dropped by?” Gabi asked hopefully, feeling a bit jealous that Katie had such an involved family.
“No.”
She would have been surprised if Felicity and Gilbert had come by. For fun, she’d made a guesstimate of how long it would take her parents to notice that she was gone. Six days. She gave them six days before they called, texted, or went by her condo. She would have estimated a longer time frame if it hadn’t been the holiday season.
“Do you want me to tell them where you are if they come by?” Katie asked.
“You can tell them. They’re attorneys. They’d crack you like an egg.”
“Like Joe cracked you?”
Yeah. Like that. Gabi took a sip of tea.
“Sooo …” Katie said. “You and Joe … What’s going on there?”
Gabi choked on her tea, coughed, sputtered. How had Katie known something was brewing between her and Joe?
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Gabi blinked against the burning sensation at the back of her throat. “Just swallowed wrong.”
“So you and Joe?”
“Nothing’s going. I just got here. How could there be a me and Joe? Why? Did Joe say something?” She wasn’t about to tell Katie that Joe had kissed her. Katie was his sister, for crying out loud.
Katie’s tone darkened. “Just that you’re pretty.”
Joe had said she was pretty?
Gabi’s breath quickened and a sweet heat spread through the center of her chest. Firelight flicked dancing shadows over the walls of the yurt, and in the grate, a burning log broke, dropping hot embers of fiery orange. “Oh.”
“Tread carefully,” Katie warned.
What did that mean? Truth was Gabi was tired of treading carefully. Her whole life was about treading carefully. Watching out for the conversational landmines. Monitoring her behavior so as not to offend anyone. Being so damn aware of the correct protocol and avoiding breaking rules at all costs.
