Scrooge and the Single Girl

by Christine Rimmer

Now, that did sound lovely. But did she buy it? “Be honest, now. Nothing could top the year you got Snatch.”

  “This is pretty damn close—and you’re not going to start in on me again about how I should get myself a pet, are you?”

  “I never said you should get yourself a pet.”

  “Admit it. You thought it.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Well, all right. Now that you mention it, I do think that a pet would be good for you.”

  “Now that I mention it?”

  “You did bring it up, Will.”

  He made a low, disbelieving noise.

  Which forced her to insist, “You did. You brought it up. You said—”

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Jilly. I’ll never win.”

  She smiled then. “Now you’re learning.”

  “You know just what I need, huh?”

  “Hmm,” she said.

  “Hmm, what?”

  “Nothing. Just hmm…” She laid her hands against his chest, where silky hair grew in a T pattern, across and then down in a trail to his navel—and below. With a sigh, she let her eyes drift shut. “Nice. The feel of your heartbeat…”

  His fingers had gone wandering again. He was tracing little circles up the curve of her back. “Am I going to live?”

  “Oh, I think so. Your heart is very strong. A good, even beat.” She teased the small, tight masculine nipples, rubbing them lightly with her flattened palms. “You’ll live a very long time. And you’ll be happy.”

  “You not only give advice, you tell fortunes?”

  She slid her index finger down that tempting trail of hair in the center of his chest, over his stomach, his navel…

  He gasped as she encircled him.

  “Yes,” she said, gasping a little herself. “It’s true. I can see the future. I have…connections in the spirit world.” She thought of Mavis, shivered, put that thought away.

  He tightened his arms around her. His eyes had changed. The teasing light was gone. He groaned. “Kiss me, Jilly….”

  She was stroking him—long, slow strokes. He felt so silky, so hot, so good.

  His mouth closed on hers. Jilly kissed him eagerly, hungrily. She was thinking in a dazed, half-formed way that she wished this pleasure could go on forever, wished the plow would never come, the snow would never melt. That it would be just the two of them, snowbound for eternity, warm and close, naked together.

  They fell across the bed, arms and legs all tangled up, in another of those endless, bone-melting kisses. When at last they broke for air, she tried to slither down his body, to taste him in the most intimate, encompassing way.

  He laughed—a laugh that got caught on a needful groan. “No, you don’t.” He took her arm and pulled her up so they were face-to-face again. “You’ll finish me, like you did in the kitchen. I’m not letting that happen this time.”

  “But—”

  “No.” He put a finger to her lips and he whispered, “I want to be inside you….”

  And she felt his other hand, moving down her body, finding the feminine heart of her, parting her. She cried out and pushed her hips toward him, eager and ready for the pleasure he would give.

  “So wet,” he murmured against her hair. “So sweet…”

  She made a low, urgent sound—of agreement, of excitement, of yearning. Of joy.

  And then he rolled away from her. She let out a whimper, a tiny cry of need and loss. But in no time he was close again, with one of the condoms she’d left on the table. He quickly unwrapped it. She reached out, helped him slide it down. And then he was rising above her, slipping a knee between her thighs.

  The old bed creaked in complaint at all the activity—not that either of them cared in the least.

  She looked up at him, braced on his hands, staring down at her, the whole wide sky right there, in his eyes. A sky she was falling through, endlessly, joyfully.

  She felt him, a touch of silky hardness, at her thigh and then right there, where she wanted him.

  Needed him.

  He came into her slowly, by aching, sweet degrees. She burned where he touched her. She went up in flames. Inside and outside, it was all one.

  And she was falling, forever falling, through the endless blue depths of his eyes.

  It was dark and they were still in the bed, though they’d crawled under the covers by then, when Jilly’s phone rang. They looked at each other. And then they both laughed.

  Jilly reached over and picked it up.

  “Darlin’ girl, let me speak to the birthday boy.”

  “Hold on.” Jilly punched the Mute button. “You’ll never guess who.”

  “Why didn’t she call me on my own phone?”

  “You want me to ask her?”

  He swore and sat up. “Give it here.” She handed it over. “What?” He listened. “Yeah?” He was silent. Caitlin, as usual, must be holding forth.

  Jilly dragged herself to a sitting position, raked her love-ravaged hair out of her eyes and winked at Missy, who sat on the end of the bed giving herself a leisurely bath.

  At last, Will said, “All right, Ma. Thanks.” He pushed the end button and handed Jilly her phone.

  She set it back on the table. “Let me guess. She wanted you to know how much this day means to her, the day you came into her life. She may not have always told you this, but she loves you with all of her heart and she’s so grateful that you are her son.”

  He made a growling sound. And then he smiled. “Believe it or not, you’re right. More or less.”

  “In her own words, of course.”

  “Of course. She also said I should be gentle with you, that you’re a sweet, shy girl at heart.”

  She dipped a hand under the covers and ran her fingernail up his beautifully muscled hairy thigh. “She must be talking about some other girl you had up here once.”

  He held her gaze. “I never had any other girl up here. Only you, Jilly.”

  She thought, Not even Nora? But somehow, she didn’t quite have the nerve to ask. Nora seemed, somehow, a special being. His one true love, lost forever, but forever in his heart….

  She cut her eyes away—and then looked back, grinning. “And really, you didn’t even have me up here on purpose, now did you?”

  He didn’t grin back. “Not at first, no. But now, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve got you here on purpose. I’m glad you’re here, Jilly. Very, very glad.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She felt…revealed, somehow. And that made her just a little bit nervous.

  He seemed to understand, because suddenly he turned teasing. “Is that your stomach I hear growling?”

  She laughed and put her hand on her tummy. “And here I thought it was an earthquake. Pass me the Cheez Doodles.”

  “Uh-uh. Let’s go down and raid the refrigerator.”

  Right then, she remembered what she’d forgotten to do. “Oh, Will. I never baked your cake.”

  “As if I noticed.”

  “I could still do it. Why not? It’s not like there’s anything else we just have to get done.”

  “Jilly, stop. The last thing we need around here is another dessert.”

  “You’re not too disappointed?”

  “I am not in the least disappointed.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. Firmly. “Now, is it all right if we eat?”

  They threw on their clothes—well, Will did. Jilly put on everything but her red-fleece top. It was still downstairs on the floor where Will had tossed it when he whipped it off over her head. When they got down there, she picked it up, shook it out and pulled it on. They heated up what they wanted to eat, after which they sat at the table and didn’t speak to each other until they both had empty plates.

  Jilly pushed back her chair. Will started to rise, too.

  “Sit right there.”

  “You are the bossiest woman.” But he didn’t try to get up again.

  She took their plates to the sink. And then she went
around turning off lights—all except the one overhead. That accomplished, she got out the chocolate pecan pie, which only had two slices missing from it and would do just fine for a stand-in birthday cake. She found a candle in the candle drawer and stuck it in the center of the pie. There were kitchen matches in the old-fashioned dispenser on the back of the stove. She struck one and lit the candle.

  Will chuckled as she flew over to douse the one remaining light.

  “No laughing,” she commanded. “This is serious business.”

  “Ah. Forgive me.”

  “All right. Just this once.”

  She returned to the pie, scooped it up and marched solemnly toward him, singing the birthday song. She set the pie before him and she sang the song all the way to the end. When she was done, he looked up at her, candlelight casting the planes and angles of his fine face into sharp relief.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  “I thought maybe you’d have more instructions for me.”

  “What instructions? You make a wish. You blow it out.”

  “Gotcha.” He tipped his head to the side and furrowed his brow, making certain she’d understand that he was doing the wish part. Then he closed his eyes, drew in a breath and blew out the candle.

  She turned on the light.

  He looked her up and down. “You’ve still got your clothes on.”

  Now, what was that supposed to mean?

  He took note of her puzzled expression. “You said make a wish.”

  She understood. And groaned. “You’re kidding.”

  “Uh-uh. I’d like you to do it now.”

  “You are getting awfully pushy.”

  “We’re trying to give me good birthday memories. One way to do that is by seeing that my birthday wish comes true.”

  “Me naked? That’s your birthday wish?”

  He nodded.

  “You should wish for something you haven’t already had.”

  “Jilly. It’s my wish. I think you should be nice and grant it.” As if she could refuse him when he was looking at her like that. “And Jilly….”

  “What?”

  “Do it slowly, okay?”

  After she finished her striptease, Will shoved back his chair, grabbed her and lifted her high against his chest. She squealed in surprise and then wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her head into the curve of his shoulder. “You didn’t eat your birthday pie.”

  “Later for that.” He strode boldly across the cracked linoleum of the kitchen floor and up the stairs.

  It was a long, heavenly night. They made love and they dozed, they woke up and talked for a while, shared a bag of Cheez Doodles, made love some more.

  Very, very late, Jilly woke and could have sworn she saw Mavis at the foot of the bed—not reaching out, not floating toward her. Just standing there, a soft smile on her wrinkled face.

  But maybe not.

  When Jilly blinked, Mavis was gone. Jilly reached for Will and her hand met warm, solid flesh. He opened his eyes, lazily murmured her name.

  She whispered, “Kiss me?”

  He answered by opening his arms.

  In the morning, after breakfast, Jilly told him she really had to spend some time on her column. So he kissed her and went out to shovel snow.

  By a little before one in the afternoon, she had four days wrapped up, pieces she’d been working on that just needed a decent concluding paragraph or a snappy intro. She zipped them off. That put her well ahead of schedule. She wouldn’t have to get anything more in until after New Year’s, which made her feel very smug and self-satisfied.

  And how was Will doing outside? A delicious shiver slid through her and warmth pooled low in her belly, just at the thought of getting out there and shoveling alongside him. She put her laptop away and rolled her shoulders, which were a little bit achy from the shoveling she’d done yesterday. But not bad. Not bad at all. She threw on her coat and boots, gloves and hat, and went out through the kitchen door, detouring to the shed to grab the second shovel.

  Out in the clearing, she discovered he’d made some serious progress. She couldn’t even see him when she stood by the cars. She hurried along the path of frozen ground he’d made, toward the close clumps of brush and trees that lined the twisting driveway, aware of a sad, sinking feeling in her stomach, a dragging heaviness in her feet.

  The time was coming, and it wouldn’t be long now. Choices would have to be made—to go or to stay. And even if she stayed, how long would it last?

  A few brief, lovely days. Then she’d return to her life and he’d go back to his. They’d meet periodically, for dinner at Jane’s, a party at the Highgrade, some event in Las Vegas that Celia might organize.

  Jilly’s steps slowed to a stop at the top of the driveway. She looked down at the shovel in her hand. She wasn’t going to like it much, having to be at get-togethers where Will would show up, too, where he’d smile and say hi, where they’d try to act normal and friendly, like casual acquaintances, after all that had happened here in the last few days. She had a feeling that was going to be pretty bad. Awful, even.

  From somewhere far above, she heard a bird cry. Jilly lifted her head and sucked in a deep breath of bracing winter air. She could smell woodsmoke. And pine. She looked back at the old house, at the sparkling snow on the roof, the smoke from the chimney pipe trailing up toward the clear blue sky.

  Winter in the mountains. Nothing like it in the world.

  And as to her and Will…

  Hey, the good part wasn’t even over yet. She’d do well to remember that, to enjoy every last lovely second of the time they did have together. And who was to say that it had to end when they left this place? Okay, Will had told her that he wasn’t in the market for a serious relationship. Did that mean there was some hard-and-fast rule that he could never change his mind?

  People were allowed to change. And Will had changed. They had both changed. Since they’d been snowed in here together, they’d gone from mutual dislike to friendship to becoming lovers.

  Who could say what might happen next? Sometimes you just had to forge ahead and deal with whatever was around the next turn when you got there.

  Jilly did forge ahead.

  And around the next turn, from the bushes, a flicker of movement caught her eye.

  It was a tail, wagging back and forth. The tail was hooked to a dog and the dog was staring right at her.

  He was so cute. A brown-and-white shorthaired hound, nearly full-grown, but still with that soft, sweet puppy look about him. He had knobby, gangly legs and floppy ears and big, soft, lonely brown eyes.

  But he was much too thin. His ribs stuck out.

  “Oh, you little sweetheart….”

  The dog let out a small, lonely-sounding whine, and then started backing deeper into the brush.

  “Stay. Stay, boy. It’s okay….”

  The dog wagged his tail.

  “Good boy.” She took a step toward him.

  The movement must have spooked him. He whirled and ran for the trees.

  Jilly dropped her shovel and went after him, plunging hip-deep in just-cleared snow as soon as she stepped beyond the path Will had made. Ahead of her, at the edge of the brush where the trees started, the dog had paused to look back at her, tail low, but still wagging—hopeful, but not quite sure if he ought to trust her.

  “Hey,” she said softly, holding out her hand, palm up. “Come on. It’s all right.”

  The dog perked those silky brown ears, tipped his sweet head to the side and whined again.

  Jilly dared to haul her booted foot up and put it down into the knee-deep snow beyond the shoveled pile. Another step. And then another.

  The dog whined once more and took off.

  “Wait! Here boy, it’s okay….” Jilly pushed on, snapping bushes aside, plowing through the snow. Behind her, she heard Will call her name.

  But she didn’t turn. She staggered on. She knew the dog was the animal she’d spotted yesterday an
d the day before, the shy creature she’d seen skirting the clearing. The poor guy was hungry. The poor guy needed help.

  At last she reached the trees, where the snow was patchier than in the bare brush, making it easier to struggle ahead. But the tall pines not only made the way clearer, they also cut off the sun. Jilly shivered at the sudden drop in temperature—and kept going, fast as she could, following the tracks the dog had left, though by then the animal itself was nowhere to be seen.

  From behind her, Will called again. “Jilly! Jilly, stop!”

  She turned to look for him and saw him, just ducking under the thick cover of the trees. She waved at him, but kept on moving. She just wasn’t ready yet to give up on the poor, lost mutt.

  It was a big mistake—that she turned to wave and took her attention off the ground before her. She compounded the error by spinning quickly to the front again, rushing ahead without really looking where she was going.

  It was one of those slow-motion moments. She put her foot down just as she registered that she’d stumbled onto a ravine. She tried to yank her foot back.

  Too late.

  She teetered. Gravity won.

  With a sharp, startled cry, she fell, rolling. And then she hit her head on something hard. Lights seemed to pop and flash before her eyes. She was still rolling…

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will had tried to warn her. He’d shouted at her to stop. He should have known that wouldn’t work. Jilly, after all, was one of those women who could be counted on not to do what a man told her to do.

  She went over. It was terrible to watch. She was there, twenty yards in front of him—and then she toppled from view into the ravine his grandmother had always called the Dead Drop, the one that seemed to be there out of nowhere if you didn’t know to look for it.

  Will raced for the spot where she had vanished, his heart beating out a rhythm of doom, her name a desperate litany scrolling through his brain.

  Jilly, Jilly, Jilly, Jilly…

  At last he reached the edge. He looked down. She was at the bottom. Curled in a ball.

  Not moving.

  He swore, a harsh string of very bad words. And then he started down, sliding, stumbling, almost falling, keeping his feet by some dark miracle, willing her to be all right.