Snowbound with Mr. Wrong (Snowflake Valley)

by Barbara White Daille

  “What do you need?”

  You.

  The automatic response made her blush again. She had to be stronger than this. She took up her tea mug again and rested back against the couch. They had never come this far before in a conversation on this topic, and she didn’t want to brush him off without answering. They could never be together but at least she would have the chance of making him see the truth.

  …

  Nick turned sideways on the couch and watched Lyssa stare down at her tea mug. She sat quiet for so long, he thought she wouldn’t answer. But finally, she shot a glance at him and then back at her mug.

  “I need my family,” she said slowly. “You know we’re a big family, with seven kids. And with that many of us, we have our squabbles from time to time. But for the most part, we all get along. We’ve had some hard times, too, some years when my dad’s job didn’t cover the bills. We’ve all pitched in to help when we could. It’s why I took the job at Holidaze in the first place, when I was still in school.”

  He could hear the pride in her voice at being able to help her family. He couldn’t miss the love she felt for them, too.

  “I need Snowflake Valley,” she went on. “The whole community is like an extension of my family. I know it sounds like an advertising slogan, but it’s a small town with a big heart. And just like in a family, people squabble over things once in a while.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Like the feud going on between those who want to modernize Icicle Lane, our business area in town, and those who like it just the way it is. But like my family, eventually they’ll come to a compromise.”

  “The way I told Tommy.” He smiled. “See, that’s a big-business tactic at work.”

  “But on a smaller scale.”

  “True.”

  “And I need tradition,” she said. “From the annual town picnic to the annual Christmas Festival. Tradition is a big part of Snowflake Valley, and that’s part of who I am. My dad’s family has been in charge of the festival since it began. I know some people think it’s crazy to have an entire town devoted to Christmas and Santa.” She looked at him again, this time as if in challenge.

  And he was always up for a challenge. “I hate to burst your snowflake bubble, but some people don’t have holiday traditions.”

  “Meaning you?”

  He nodded. “Christmas wasn’t much of a big deal in our house. I was an only child, and most years, my parents would leave me home with the housekeeper while they went off on a cruise.”

  She gasped, and her eyes suddenly shone with tears. He’d known she was softhearted about homeless people and orphaned kids and abandoned puppies and kittens, but to see her compassion directed his way gave him a funny feeling in his chest. Not a good funny feeling. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy.

  “Hey, no sense wasting time getting upset on my account. I’m used to it. None of the holidays mean much to me, and neither do vacations.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s probably why I keep myself too busy ever to take time off.”

  She looked appalled. “That’s nothing to joke about, Nick.”

  He wanted to reach across the space between them to touch her hair. He wanted to get back to kissing her again instead of having this conversation that history had already taught them wouldn’t come to a good end. But he had to tell her the truth. “Trust me, I’m okay with my work schedule.”

  “I wouldn’t be,” she said firmly. For a moment, her eyes shone again. Before he could reach out to her, she set down her mug and rose from the couch. “Come on,” she said, crooking her finger.

  “I’m all yours.” He nearly wrenched his ankle again, almost levitating to his feet. “What do you have in mind?” he asked hopefully.

  “Not what you’re evidently thinking. We’re going on a hunt.”

  “For what?”

  “For something we can use to make Christmas stockings.”

  “Not me.” He came to a halt. “If this is your way of teaching me your family traditions, no thanks. Besides, making those stockings was your idea.”

  “And having Santa come to visit was yours. You’re as responsible for this project as I am.” She took his hand and tugged him along with her.

  Suddenly less inclined to argue, he matched his stride to hers. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing her. “I hate to burst another of your bubbles, but I doubt Michael’s got much in the way of stocking material around here. We might need to renege on our promise to Tommy, after all.”

  “So, you’re admitting there’s a deal you can’t handle?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Honey, there’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  She laughed, and the sound set up another feeling in his chest. A very good one, this time.

  Upstairs, she led him down the hall. “Let’s check the linen closet,” she said in a low voice as they passed the closed doors of the kids’ bedrooms. “I’d much rather cut up a towel or blanket than sacrifice any of Amber’s clothes.”

  Reluctantly, he let her slip her hand from his. She began investigating the contents of the closet. “It looks like the kids may have taken most of the afghans already.” She stood on tiptoe to reach an upper shelf. “Wait, what’s this? It’s too far back for me. Can you—?”

  Before she had finished her sentence, he moved in close behind her and reached over her head to bring down what turned out to be a dark-green woolen afghan. He held the afghan in front of her, his arms encircling her and his chin grazing the top of her head.

  “Will this do?” he murmured in her ear.

  “For the stockings?”

  He laughed quietly. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” He took her arm and turned her to face him. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

  “Like what?” she asked innocently.

  “Like this.” He draped the afghan around her shoulders and tugged on the edges of it, gently bringing her even closer to him. As he leaned down to kiss her, he heard a thump from just a few yards away.

  Groaning, she edged away from him. “Great.”

  “Was that what I think it was?” he asked.

  “A door closing. But which one?”

  “I couldn’t tell.” He backed up a step, too, and glanced down the hallway. The afghan began to slip. He resettled it on her shoulders. “Now, where were we?”

  “About to make a big mistake.”

  “Why? We’re adults.”

  “And we’re responsible for those three kids. We shouldn’t be making out right outside their doors.”

  “My room’s just down the hall,” he murmured.

  “So is mine,” she said, her smile revving his pulse, giving him hope…until she edged a few more steps away, wrapping the afghan around her. “And that’s where we need to go—to our own rooms. Alone.”

  Chapter Ten

  Knowing she was too keyed-up to sleep, Lyssa watched Nick enter his bedroom. As soon as he closed the door behind him, she started down the stairs. In the living room, she collected the mugs and dishes from their late-night snack.

  She had told him she would wash up in the morning, but with nothing else to keep her busy, she decided there was no time like the present.

  At the thought, she paused, squeezing the dishcloth in the warm, soapy water.

  The word present made her think of Santa and Christmas presents, of Nick as a little boy, and of what he had told her. Hearing his story had devastated her. How could his parents—or any parents—go off and leave their child alone for the holidays? Especially for Christmas, one of the holidays meant to bring families together?

  On the other hand, hearing that horrible story had given her some insight into Nick. She could see now how his past had shaped his values, and she could even understand just a bit why business and the bottom line took precedence over family for him. That joke about not taking vacations didn’t fool her. Sadly, he couldn’t see how much his childhood had affected him—and, in turn, how the defenses he’d raised had hurt his r
elationship with her.

  She wondered exactly what to call what was happening between them now that they had been forced together again. Those few minutes upstairs in the hallway had only confused her more. He had stood there looking down at her with an expression so intense, it made her want to melt against him. And then he pulled the blanket around her, tugging her closer, and she was melting against him. She was ready for his kiss…

  Until they had heard the sharp snap of the door in the hallway closing.

  Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching from the living room. She recognized Brent’s walk and turned to smile at him as he entered the kitchen. “Hi. I thought you’d gone to bed.”

  “Me, too. Couldn’t sleep. And I’m hungry.”

  “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll do it. I thought I would make some real scrambled eggs.”

  His emphasis on the word made her laugh. “So, you didn’t fall for my trick of renaming the quiche?”

  “Nope.” He headed toward the refrigerator.

  She didn’t know who had closed the door upstairs.

  Brent’s easiness in talking with her now made her cross his name from the list. Besides, though he might have been embarrassed at interrupting their kiss, she felt sure he would have been even more self-conscious at getting caught catching them. He would have closed his door quietly.

  Tommy would have walked right out of the room to ask what was going on—and then have proceeded to add another long list of questions.

  She felt sure the nighttime lurker had been Mollie. Mollie, who had seemed satisfied at learning Nick was not Lyssa’s “boyfriend.” Mollie, who had a crush on Nick herself. She would not have been at all happy to find him kissing Lyssa in the hallway just outside her door.

  Well, tomorrow morning and Mollie’s actions would tell.

  Brent put a carton of eggs and a stick of butter on the counter. “Want some?”

  “No thanks.” As she washed the few dishes in the sink, she watched him expertly crack eggs into a bowl and season them with pepper and a few herbs. “I hear you’re seriously considering a culinary degree.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to talk to my counselor after the break,” he said enthusiastically. “And Nick said he’d look up some info for me. He said he even knows some businesses that give scholarships to college students. It would help out my mom if I could get part of the tuition paid.”

  “I’m sure it would.” Money was tight in most households nowadays, especially single-parent families like Brent’s. “That was very nice of him.”

  Unbelievably nice for someone as busy as Nick. She hoped he would keep his promises to Brent. As for those he’d made to her… That was the problem, wasn’t it? Their relationship had never had time to get to that stage. Just as well, maybe. In the long run, things had turned out to be the way they were meant to be.

  “Yeah. He’s an okay guy.” For a teen, that was high praise. “He told me I could give his name as a reference on applications, too.”

  “Even nicer.”

  Brent slid his cooked eggs onto a plate. “Well, he said other people helped him in the past and he likes to pay it forward.”

  She froze with a dessert plate in one hand. Pay it forward.

  Was that why Nick had pushed her so hard to spread her wings and make a change? Not so much because he cared about her but because, as with Brent, he simply wanted to pay off a debt?

  Breakfast was an awkward meal. Lyssa tried hard to keep the conversation open and casual, yet couldn’t get everyone to respond.

  Brent and Tommy were their usual selves, Brent groggy and sleepy-eyed until he began to wake up, Tommy full of questions and comments.

  Nick was quieter than normal. She wondered whether she had upset him with her rejection of his offer to go to his room. She couldn’t allow herself to take that offer seriously, no matter how interested he had seemed in kissing her and wanting to move on to something more.

  No matter how interested she had been herself.

  As she had suspected, Mollie appeared to be the hallway lurker. Instead of her cheerful, chatty conversation, she sat staring at her plate without saying a word. Whenever Tommy spoke to her, she responded only with a grunt or a shrug. And she very pointedly did not look in Nick’s direction.

  Lyssa swallowed a sigh. This might very well turn out to be the longest day they had spent together yet.

  “Miss Lyssa, what time does Santa start traveling in his sleigh?” Tommy asked.

  “When it gets dark tonight, and all the children are asleep in their beds.”

  “Will we put out cookies and milk?”

  “Yes. And some carrots for the reindeer.” Luckily, she had spotted the bag of carrots in the refrigerator.

  “What kind of cookies?” he persisted.

  “I don’t know. What kind do you think Santa would like?”

  “Sprinkle stars. Right, Mr. Nick?”

  “I think you’re right,” he agreed.

  Coincidentally, the star-shaped cutout cookies decorated with multicolored sprinkles seemed to have been both his and Tommy’s favorites. Their stash of those cookies left over from the party was running low. It might be time to make another batch, if she could find all the ingredients in the kitchen.

  “Are we making stockings today?” Tommy asked her. “We have to put stockings out for Santa tonight.”

  “We sure are. As soon as breakfast is done, we’ll get started.” Sooner or later, it would hit him that he wouldn’t be with his parents on Christmas morning. But thankfully, his concern about Santa Claus had overridden his worries about getting home. Temporarily.

  It was up to her to make sure he stayed too busy to think about what he would be missing. And if at the same time she managed to distract herself from things she shouldn’t be thinking, so much the better.

  “Mr. Nick,” Tommy asked, “are you going to make stockings, too?”

  “Yes, he is,” Lyssa said promptly. Beside her at the table, Nick shot her a silent glance. It didn’t matter whether or not he’d sent her that look in frustration over what had happened last night. The flash of his dark eyes still managed to made her heart skip a few beats. She grabbed her plate and the empty breakfast platter. “We’d better get going. Mollie, would you give me a hand clearing the table?”

  Mollie thudded back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I’ll help,” Brent offered.

  “Me, too,” Tommy said.

  Silently, the remaining two musketeers studied their empty plates.

  Oh, yes. A great beginning to their longest day yet.

  …

  Nick sat back on the couch and stared at the pieces of green fabric on the coffee table in front of him. So far, no one—including Lyssa—had seemed to notice he hadn’t picked up the needle Tommy had proudly threaded for him. He didn’t intend to. He hadn’t lied to Lyssa. Arts and crafts really weren’t his thing.

  Neither was coming on to a woman while standing in a hallway with a handful of kids just a few yards away. What had he been thinking?

  Of kissing Lyssa in the kitchen and of having Lyssa in his bed, that’s what. One was a beautiful memory and the other a pleasure he would never have.

  After breakfast and some surprising enthusiasm from Brent, he and the teen had done the dishes. They had equally enthusiastic help from Tommy, who chatted the entire time. Nick had to admit, it beat the awkward silence he’d contributed to at the breakfast table. He’d been brooding too much to join in on the conversation, and it looked as though he hadn’t been the only one in a bad mood.

  During the dishwashing session, Mollie had sat at the breakfast bar, her back against the adjacent wall, watching and saying nothing.

  Lyssa had made a newspaper pattern for their stockings and spread the blanket on the breakfast bar to cut out the pieces. He felt a quick stab of guilt. Her head bent over her work, she hadn’t said much at all, either, as if her effort to keep the conversation going at breakfa
st had worn her out. Since then, she hadn’t directed a comment his way, or even looked in his direction.

  He had already beat himself up for the way he’d propositioned her last night. Though he didn’t like the curt way she had cut him off at the knees, it bothered him to see she still seemed upset by what he’d done.

  Now she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table sewing her own stocking, making tiny, even stitches invisible to him from this distance.

  He stared down again at the table and the two fabric pieces meant for his stocking. He still had no plans to join in on this sewing bee. He had flunked basket-weaving at summer camp and botched every project planned during every weekend retreat his parents signed him up to attend.

  But somehow his skill in threading a needle had branded him an expert, at least in Tommy’s eyes. The little boy sat next to him on the couch and showed him every stitch he made.

  “Do you think Santa likes my stocking?” Tommy asked.

  The kid emphasized the word, as if someone here had already insulted his work. “I’m sure he’ll like it. In fact, you’re doing such a great job, I think you should make my stocking, too.”

  “But Santa doesn’t—” The boy cut himself off and put his head down over his work again.

  Across the room, Mollie gave a huge, exasperated sigh.

  Till this morning, she had seemed inclined to stick by his side. Since they had all returned to the living room, she had sat apart from them in his former Santa chair, stabbing her stocking-shaped piece of fabric with her needle as if it were some kind of voodoo doll. He pitied the person she was picturing as her target.

  “When we get back to civilization,” he said, “we’ll need to make a shopping trip.”

  That caught Mollie’s attention, though she looked up without a word.

  It caught Lyssa’s attention, too, judging by the way her hand holding the needle had frozen in midair. Already he could tell she was forming objections to his plan. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to please her.

  “Shopping?” Tommy asked. “What can we buy?”