Any Given Christmas

by Candis Terry

  She should just go home and make herself a nice tuna sandwich before she ended up doing something foolish. Yes. That’s what she would do. Decision made, her body betrayed her by opening cupboards in search of a salad bowl.

  Glutton for punishment? Yep.

  “How can I help?” she asked.

  “You want to finish the salad?”

  “Sure.” She grabbed an anemic tomato from the bowl on the counter and a knife from the drawer to start slicing. Dean switched on an under-counter radio and Keith Urban’s voice filled the kitchen with a sweet song that seemed to mimic the love story of his own life. Her knife thunked down into the well-used chopping block. Deep in concentration of the lyrics, she didn’t notice that Dean had put down his bags of steaks until he came up behind her. His big hand covered hers as he eased the knife from her grip.

  “I found a better way to do that,” he said, his words a warm breath against her ear.

  Emma closed her eyes. The heat of his chest warmed her back and it took everything she had not to melt against him. As the knife glided through the barely red tomato, Emma wondered if he truly was interested in showing her his culinary skills or something more. Would it be breaking the rules if she asked him to please kiss her on that really sensitive spot just below her ear? Or to move just a smidge closer so she could feel all of him pressed against her?

  Her heart kicked into hyperspace. How about if she just turned around and took full advantage of the close proximity of their bodies? Dean had already proven he knew how to heat up a kitchen.

  And when had she become such a slutty thinker? Still, maybe this whole no touching, no kissing thing was a bit ridiculous. “Dean, I—”

  The doorbell chimed with a happy tune.

  “It’s about time.” He laid the knife down on the chopping block and pointed to the vegetable in her hand as he disappeared through the door. “Keep going. I’ll be right back.”

  Moments later Emma heard the buzz of voices coming toward the kitchen. She turned just as Dean’s family walked in chattering like magpies in the spring.

  Ah, saved by the bell.

  Literally.

  Hours later, Dean sat at the head of the long kitchen table and smiled as enthusiastic conversation surrounded him and he reveled in the first unofficial gathering of his board of directors—minus Kelly, who’d once again gone back to Chicago. As a group they’d barbecued steaks and roasted potatoes and traded the events of their days just as any family might.

  Whether Emma realized it or not, she’d taken up the role as hostess. She refilled wine glasses, made coffee, and helped clear the table when dinner was done.

  They’d moved on to dessert and now she sat to his right, her cheeks rosy from the wine and, he hoped, the excitement of the journey on which they were all about to embark. She fit right in with the rest of the gang. He liked that about her. He liked seeing her beside him. He liked that he didn’t exactly know what to do with her, or where her thoughts meandered. He liked the element of mystery that either she was going to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him with that incredible mouth or kick his sorry ass out the door.

  Seeing her seated next to him in his new home—planning a future that would help a lot of kids and the parents who loved them—made him feel really good.

  Sure, he could have outright asked her to come to a dinner meeting. But what would have been the fun in that? Before they’d gotten down to the business at hand, he’d needed to find some way to try to change her mind about her hands-off rule. And he wasn’t beyond using every trick in the book to make her think it was all her idea when she cried “uncle.” When it came to Emma, he didn’t like hands-off. He wanted his hands all over her soft, sweet, hot body. And then some.

  Kate took a bite of the warm apple cobbler she’d brought to the table. “So what do you call this touchy-feely thing, again?”

  He looked at Emma. Infatuation? Enchantment? Lust? With a blink he turned his attention to Kate. “Equine-assisted therapy. It’s a fairly new method, but the experts I’ve spoken to say it seems to have excellent results.”

  “When do you think you’ll be able to bring actual livestock here to the lodge?” Matt leaned back in his chair, stretched his arm out, and absently caressed Kate’s shoulder. The glow of the chandelier reflected off his shiny new sheriff badge.

  “Soon. Several local ranchers have given me a line on a couple geldings that are known for their extreme gentleness. That’s going to be key in whatever animals are brought here. They’ve got to be used to loud, abrupt noises, and lots of little kids running around. A spooked horse can be a big danger and that’s the last thing I want.”

  “Seriously. That’s over a ton of scary muscle and energy,” Kate said. “Which reminds me, I read an article not too long ago where a rodeo queen decided she’d been bucked off during too many grand entries. So she sacked out her horse by tying Mylar balloons to a corral fence and playing AC/DC full blast.”

  “Well, that’s certainly a colorful method,” Emma said.

  “Pretty clever too,” Kate agreed. “She said after awhile he’d trot in tune with Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.”

  When the laughter quieted, Dean noticed the smile had slipped from his father’s face. He reached over and patted his dad on the back. “You okay?”

  His father nodded. “I wish your mother could be here to see you.” He looked around the table then clasped his hand over the top of Dean’s. “All of you. And what you’re accomplishing. She’d be so proud.”

  “She’s not far, Dad.” Dean caught Kate’s eye and she gave him a collaborative wink. “Trust me on that.”

  Hugs were passed around as Dean said goodbye to his dad, Kate, and Matt. He’d just closed the door behind them when Emma came down the stairs, slipping her arms into the sleeves of her coat.

  “You’re leaving too? I thought maybe you’d be interested in an après-meeting soak.”

  She settled her knitted scarf around her neck and looked up. “I don’t have my bathing suit.”

  He grasped the ends of the scarf and used it to tug her closer. “You didn’t have it on New Year’s either.”

  “Not so fast.” She planted her hands against his chest. “I told you—”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re dating Jesse. You’ve got plans and they don’t include me.” He smoothed his palms down the tails of her scarf. “So what are these plans, honey? Marriage? Babies? Happily-ever-after?”

  “Yes.” She stepped back and her scarf fell from his hands. “All of the above. Is that such a surprise?”

  “And you plan on marrying Jesse Hamilton?”

  “He hasn’t asked.”

  Shit. She didn’t say no. “If he did, would you say yes?”

  “I’ve only been dating him for a few weeks.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question, Emma.”

  She buttoned up her coat and put her hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry, Dean, but I really don’t think my life and what I do or don’t do with it is any of your business.”

  He’d take that as a yes.

  A flare of good old-fashioned rivalry streaked right up his spine, grabbed him by the throat, and gave him a good shake. Before she could turn to walk away he cupped his hands over her shoulders and drew her against him. Without a word of protest from her sweet mouth, he lowered his head and kissed her.

  As if it were routine she raised to her toes. Her hands threaded through his hair and she settled against him. A perfect fit. Passion kicked in and it was all Dean could do not to tear that wool coat from her body and mark her as his own.

  The racing of his heart told him she was right where she belonged. His arms tightened around her. But just as he began to think he’d won her over, she broke from his embrace. Her lips were flushed. Moist. Nothing mattered more than kissing her again. He reached for her but she dodged him, pulled open the door, and stepped out onto the veranda.

  “That kiss didn’t feel like you’re convinced Jesse is the right guy for
you, Emma.”

  “And you are?”

  Not sure of that himself, he shrugged.

  She gave a humorless laugh. “You are a lot of things, Dean. Handsome. Gifted. And you are probably the sexiest, most charming man I’ve ever met.”

  All good. Right? “Why do I hear a but coming?”

  “But you are not now, nor will you ever be the kind of man to settle down with one woman. Or change a baby’s diapers. Or, God forbid, hold that woman’s hand when she grows old and her face wrinkles and her boobs droop.”

  He’d never thought of life in quite that way before. To his credit, he’d helped his mother change plenty of diapers when Kate had been a baby. And to him, holding a woman’s hand throughout life sounded like a pretty damn good deal. Even if her boobs did droop. “You want to know what I think?”

  “No.”

  “I think you’re a coward.”

  “Me?” She pointed to the buttons on her coat.

  “Yeah. You. I think you’re too chicken to admit that there might be something more between us than a one-night stand.”

  She looked over her shoulder toward her little Subaru, looked for an escape. Then those blue eyes shot back at him. “I am not a coward. I just don’t like you.”

  “You like me.”

  She shook her head. Her chest and the buttons on her coat lifted on a vast intake of air. “The night of Kate’s reception, I asked if you remembered me. You said no.”

  “A lot of time has passed since I was a kid, Em.”

  “True. But the funny thing is I remembered you, Dean.”

  By the edge to her words she had not just paid him a compliment.

  “Look,” she said, “when I was eighteen I couldn’t buy my way into the cool kids’ club. And in those days I really, really wanted to belong. Then I graduated. And summer began. And I found myself just biding my time until I could leave behind Deer Lick and its gossipy girls and boys who only liked girls who said yes.”

  “And you did.”

  “Yes. But before I did, someone came into town. Someone new. Someone who paid attention to me. Someone I liked. A lot.” Her head tilted and the porch light slanted across her cheek. “Nick Harris. Remember him?”

  “The guy I played ball in college with?”

  She nodded. “One night there was going to be a bonfire party out at the back forty acres of Old Man Carter’s place.”

  “There were a lot of bonfires out there in those days,” he said. “Everybody who was anybody went.”

  “Exactly. But I was a nobody. And I’d never gone before. And when Nick invited me to go, my eighteen-year-old curiosity got the best of me. So I broke all the rules. I waited until my Memaw went to bed. I put on my cutest cutoffs, a tank top, and tennis shoes and I snuck out of the house. I walked all the way there to see what the cool kids did on hot summer nights.”

  “And?”

  “When I got there the keg was almost empty.”

  “I do remember a lot of alcohol got consumed at those parties.”

  “I’d never drunk before. Pretty pathetic, right? Never been to the bonfire. Never tasted anything stronger than lemonade.”

  “You were a good girl. Completely understandable.”

  “I wasn’t a good girl.” Her face crumpled and she looked down at her feet. His heart stalled. “Do you know who my mother is?”

  “Should I?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of her.” Her chin came up. “Everyone in Deer Lick has. Suzanne Hart?”

  Where the hell was she going with this and why did it matter so much? “Suzanne Hart is your mother?”

  “Surprise.”

  “What about your daddy?”

  “If you know my mother is Suzanne Hart, then you know my father could be any man in this town or any other town for miles around. According to gossip I learned over the years, my mother prided herself on being the only paid whore in the entire county.”

  “I’m sorry, Emma, I didn’t know.” The story unfolding was unexpected, but it didn’t change who Emma had become or the way he thought of her. Still, he had a feeling this was important for her to say. So he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited. “Tell me the rest.”

  “Nick offered me a drink. I took it.” She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “I think I took several. The next thing I knew Nick was kissing me. And touching me. I didn’t want him to stop. I figured I was eighteen and that was what everyone did at that age.” A heavy sigh pushed from her lungs. “One thing led to another and by the time it was over, I’d given a guy I didn’t even know my virginity.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “After I got myself together I came back to the bonfire. You and Nick were talking, and laughing, and then I felt everyone staring at me, talking behind their hands. About me. The outsider who didn’t belong. I needed to get out of there. I asked Nick to give me a ride home but he said you wouldn’t loan him your car. So I walked.”

  “And then what?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual. Nick avoided me. The gossips had a free-for-all. Summer came to an end. I missed my period and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I knew you and he were getting ready to go back to USC. I was a stupid, naive eighteen-year-old and I felt like I needed to tell him. One day I saw you and him go inside the Gas and Grub. I waited until you both came outside. While you flirted with Fawn Derick I told him I might be pregnant.”

  “Em, I—”

  “At first he laughed and asked why I thought it would be his.” Her hands worried the strings that hung from the ends of her scarf. “But drunk or not, he knew I’d been a virgin. Then he told me he planned to take the advice of his love-‘em-and-leave-‘em good-time buddy Dean Silverthorne. Apparently you’d already warned him off the local girls who might be marriage-minded. You’d told him to focus on his football career and not any backwoods slut who might try to trap him.”

  “I would never say that.” Anger curled his fingers into fists. “You know my mom and dad would never raise a son who’d say something like that.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He ran and I got lucky.” A chill settled into her voice that reached out and burned his heart. “Unlike my mother, I never had to bring an unwanted child into this world.”

  “Were you pregnant?”

  She nodded so slightly he almost missed it.

  “I lost it,” she whispered.

  “Did anyone else know?”

  She shook her head.

  “Em. I’m so sorry. He reached out for her but she backed away until her backside bumped the veranda rail. Her message was loud and clear and he had no choice but to drop his hands. “Why didn’t you go to someone who could have helped you?”

  “I was eighteen, Dean. I just wanted it all to go away. I didn’t want to be an outsider anymore. I didn’t want people to think of me like they thought of my mother. I wanted them to like me.”

  “They like you, Em. I like you.”

  She stared at him for a moment. Then blinked her eyes once. Twice. “I know you do. But that’s just not enough.” She clutched her coat beneath her heart in one small hand. “And I think it’s best if you find someone else to be on your board of directors.” She turned and hurried down the steps to her car.

  “Emma.” He followed her. “Don’t go.”

  When she reached the Forester she opened the door, turned, and looked up at him with more courage than any man he’d ever met on the field. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told about this. It feels really good to get it off my chest. For years I blamed myself. Whether I was a tease or just a stupid girl flattered that a handsome college football player seemed attracted to her, it doesn’t matter anymore. But in that lesson I did learn something important about myself. I may not be much, but I don’t ever want to be forgettable.”

  She slid into her car and shut the door.

  “Don’t lump me in with someone like that, Em. Please.” Before he could blink her engine turned over and her headlights burned up
the row of pines that bordered the long path to the road until her taillights disappeared.

  Despair gnawed at his gut and clawed at his heart. For the first time since he’d received word that his mother had died, Dean felt truly helpless. He couldn’t change the past. And without Emma, the future looked empty.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The classroom was filled with color, and laughter, and gusts of activity that encouraged hand-clapping and hoorays. But the class Emma stood in was not her own. As a part of her master’s program she’d been invited to spend a day at the Missoula Academy for Developmental Needs.

  There were ten children in the class. Each had his or her own teacher. The children appeared focused and happy. Best of all, they were learning and communicating.

  “We’re building intensive interaction into our programs,” Donna Lee, the guidance counselor, told Emma. “We’ve found that body language and touch are really helpful in teaching the children to cope better in the real world.”

  Emma’s heart raced as if she’d had too much caffeine. “It’s fascinating. Wonderful.”

  “Would you like to join in?” The gray-haired woman looked as if she could be a Florida retiree, soaking up the sunshine. Instead she’d chosen to continue to work. And her love for her work was apparent in the huge smile on her face.

  “I’d love to,” Emma responded, although she did feel a bit nervous.

  “Good.” Mrs. Lee took her by the hand. “Then let’s start here with lead and follow.”

  Donna led her to a corner filled with colorful pillows. “Amy will show you how it’s done. I can’t guarantee you won’t get addicted. So don’t blame me if you don’t want to leave at the end of the day.”

  Emma laughed. “I’m just going to be happy to take one thing back to help the little boy in my own class.”