Christmas in Destiny

by Toni Blake

  Okay, that wasn’t what Candice had been hoping for—but she certainly understood. “Of course,” she said, steering the car past her own house toward town. “Do you think they’ll make it? In time for the wedding?”

  Shane nodded. “It’ll be tight, but according to Mick, all systems are still go. And since we focused completely on the church instead of the community building, they plan to have the reception in the church basement—since it should be empty of pews and stuff from upstairs by then.”

  Candice nodded as they rounded a bend on Blue Valley Road. “Good—that’s great. I’m so glad it’s all going to work out.”

  Driving through town a few minutes later, they passed the General Mercantile and the big tree on the square, soon after pulling up in front of the church. She watched as Shane reached for the door handle—and realized his hands were bare again. “You’re not wearing the gloves.”

  He gave a shrug. “They were Harvey’s. I couldn’t just take ’em. Left ’em inside before we took off.”

  She flashed him a look in reply. “Yeah, you’re a really bad guy—returning gloves no one would ever miss if you used them for a day or two. Downright villainous.”

  It made him let out a small laugh. “Don’t go giving me those wings just yet, Candy.” Then he opened the door—looking back at her to say, “So . . . guess I’ll see you tomorrow? At the party.”

  Oh. Tomorrow. Not tonight.

  Candice just nodded. Feeling a little sad, empty, to be saying goodbye. She’d hoped this would stretch on, after all. And her chest tightened at the idea that this was already over, that she’d gotten exactly what she hadn’t wanted—a one-night stand. What about the more sex he’d bargained for when they’d been making up this morning?

  And it was the memory of that conversation that made her go out on a limb here and hope she wouldn’t end up feeling silly, or rejected. “Unless . . . well, after being out in the cold, I was thinking of putting a pot of chili on the stove for later. If . . . you wanted some.”

  He grinned at her across the car. “I want some.”

  And suddenly, she was pretty sure he wasn’t just talking about chili, so she smiled back.

  “I’ll get Mick to drop me off later.”

  “See you then,” she said, trying not to smile too much, or look too elated. Even though she was.

  And as she started back toward Blue Valley Lake, she realized something. People will know now. Whoever’s around when he asks Mick to drive him. And Mick will tell Jenny. And by tomorrow all of Destiny will know I’m officially having a hot fling with the stranger in town.

  And she didn’t care one little bit. She’d just completely thrown caution to the wind. Jumped into the fire with both feet. Fire had never been so appealing before.

  Well, Bobby had been fire. Appealing fire.

  But quit comparing him to Bobby.

  He’s not Bobby. They’re not the same guy.

  Wings or not, Shane was exactly what she wanted and needed right now and she didn’t care who knew or how it felt later. “Merry Christmas to me,” she said out loud to no one, wearing a big grin as she drove.

  And as she approached the Mercantile, she made a sudden, unplanned right turn into the parking lot. Now that she was in the fire, all the way, there was something she needed to pick up before heading home—one more Christmas gift.

  Shane had never been with a woman like Candy before. And as he laid her back on her couch, then proceeded to pull down her blue jeans, along with her panties, his erection tightened to a degree that almost hurt. She excited him that much.

  Maybe because of that whole thing about them being on opposite sides of Santa’s list. He’d never been with a woman so . . . wholly good, and kind, and pure. And yet he was getting to see a side of her that was equally as naughty as it was nice, a side he knew no one else in Destiny probably even imagined she could possess. It was hard not to be turned on by that.

  But maybe there was more to it. Maybe it was about the fact that she’d let him in. Into her life. Into her bed. That something in him had won her over, made her desires greater than her fears. It was hard not to be turned on by that, too.

  Funny thing was, as he stripped her sweater off over her head, then licked a trail between her lush breasts, using his hands over the cups of her bra to push them together, he never would have dreamed he could like this so much.

  A nice girl. In an old-fashioned house. In a quaint little town. Not his usual style by a long shot. And God knows, if anyone had told him a few weeks ago that being with this kind of woman would have him so excited, he’d have thought they were crazy. But here he was, hard as a brick, rolling on a condom, his groin aching with the need to plunge himself inside her.

  Like last night, the Christmas tree lit the room and a low fire crackled and hissed in the hearth. Her clingy white cat lay sleeping next to it. And he liked every damn thing about the moment, for reasons he sure as hell couldn’t understand.

  Of course, the part he liked best of all was when she opened her legs for him, eager and wanting, and he pushed his way snugly inside her warmth. A low groan erupted from his throat as the muscles of his lower abdomen spasmed with pleasure at the entry. And her hot, sexy, feminine little gasp told him she was right there with him, that they were in perfect sync, both soaking up every bit of heat and lust and pleasure that the connection delivered.

  As he began to move in her, she cried out at each thrust—drives that started out slow and deep, reaching for that total, fullest immersion in her, but then turned harder, faster, more powerful. He wanted to make her feel it, feel it, feel it.

  Her cries and whimpers escalated with the hot rhythm he set—until he realized that if they kept up like this, he’d come. And he wasn’t ready for that, not even close. And not just for him—but for her, too. He didn’t want to rush this—he wanted to make her feel everything.

  When he drew out of her, she released a disappointed sigh—but he quickly assured her, “It’s okay, honey—I just want to make you feel good.”

  “You were,” she said emphatically.

  “Well, even better,” he promised—and then he dropped to his knees next to the couch, angling her toward him, hands on her bare, pale hips, and bent to rake his tongue through her moist folds.

  The way her body shuddered echoed the shivery, ragged breath that escaped her. She tasted at once sweet and salty, and he could have sworn he felt her surge with more moisture against his mouth.

  He kissed and tongued that soft, most sensitive spot on her, his mouth soon closing over the delicate but swollen nub he knew lay at the heart of her excitement. She sucked in her breath, panting and moaning beneath his ministrations, and when he slid two fingers up into her wetness, she thrust against them, and against his mouth—her moves heated and rhythmic.

  As her heat grew, he could almost feel it himself—flowing down over him like some invisible liquid warmth that permeated his skin, his flesh, making him hot from the inside out. Come, baby. Come for me. He wanted to see that, wanted to make it happen.

  And then it did. She climaxed against his mouth, sobbing, her face wrenched in what looked like agony but he knew was pure release. He loved feeling her let go like that, loved her utter abandon with him.

  When it had passed and she relaxed back into the couch cushions, he rose up over her again and rasped with a wink, “Guess it pays to be on Santa’s nice list, Candy.”

  She giggled—and then her eyes went darker, sexier. Knowing almost no one else had ever witnessed this part of Little Miss Candy Cane made him feel downright . . . privileged. Especially when she whispered, “Come back inside me, Shane.”

  Mmm, he was more than happy to, so he wasted no time—except to change things up a little by instructing her, “Turn over, honey.”

  “Huh?”

  “On your hands and knees.” And then he helped her, guided her, using his hands to position her until she was facing away from him, her palms planted on the arm of the couch.


  Then he pushed his way back inside her. God, yes. It was snug and hot there. A place he never wanted to leave. And the next thing he knew, his body had taken over and he was driving into her—hard, hard, hard—making her cry out again.

  The moment he came was one of replete bliss. So replete that . . . hell, why was this so different? Different than with any other woman. But as he collapsed gently atop her afterward, he supposed it came back to her Candy Cane sweetness, her goodness, her openness. He supposed it came back to everything she was—from this house and her silly cat to the cookies she baked and the movies she loved and the heart she put into throwing a party for her beloved little town.

  And it was only as he was drifting off to sleep a few minutes later, the two of them under a soft throw, naked on her couch, her warm curves cuddled against him and the Christmas tree still throwing a colorful glow through the darkness, that it hit him. This felt safe. Everything about it. Everything about her.

  It was a safe place. An easy place. And maybe he hadn’t had much safe and easy in his life up until now. There were vague memories of it from a long, long time ago, sometime before his parents broke up, sometime before Montana—but he’d nearly forgotten that, that sense of safety all around him. And Candy—and Destiny—were giving him that.

  Too bad it couldn’t last.

  “You never really did tell me about this job you’re going to in Miami,” Candice mused aloud. Now that she’d gotten to know him better, she was all the more curious.

  But when she tried to meet Shane’s gaze, peering up from his embrace on the couch in the dimly lit living room, he didn’t quite look at her, keeping his eyes shaded. And she almost thought he wasn’t going to answer her at all—when he finally said, “Truth is—I don’t know the exact details of it. Hoping it’s just a high-end parts supplier.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Hoping?”

  Again, he couldn’t directly meet her gaze. “Well . . . possible it’s a chop shop.”

  “Chop shop?” She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

  And a hint of regret colored his expression as he said, “They take stolen cars and dismantle them to sell the parts.”

  She just blinked, a flutter of dismay passing through her stomach. “You’re going to steal cars?”

  “No,” he said quickly, emphatically. “I’ll just be . . . the shop manager. I’ll oversee the work. I won’t do anything but make sure the cars get taken apart the right way, keeping all the pieces in good shape. Because I’m good with cars.”

  She bit her lip, still trying to wrap her brain around it. “But it’s . . . illegal. Right?”

  He let out a sigh. “Well . . . not in a way that really hurts anybody.”

  She stiffened slightly in his grasp. “There’s not really any such thing as a victimless crime. I mean, the people who own the cars—”

  “Will have good insurance policies to take care of them.”

  “And the insurance companies will have to pay out a lot of money. And raise people’s rates. Or lower employee salaries. Who knows the ways it might trickle down.”

  He stayed quiet for a moment, finally saying, “Look, I might be wrong. I hope I’m wrong. Like I said, it might be a perfectly legit parts shop.” Then he stopped, sighed. And started sounding a little more self-righteous. “See? I told you I was trouble.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but something in his tone . . . softened her judgment, that fast. Even if maybe that was foolish. Because she’d come to care for him. “Well, I suppose I’ve known worse.”

  Still holding her against him, he tipped his head back against a throw pillow. “Really?”

  And she thought about the truth in those words, and decided that if he’d admitted something to her, maybe she could admit something to him, too. “I had a boyfriend once who . . . well, the upshot is that I loved him and he paid me back by stealing some money and jewelry from me—that locket, in fact; the one I told you about—and running off with my best friend.”

  Lord, she hadn’t said that out loud—maybe ever. She’d never had to, because everyone in town had known what happened due to the Destiny grapevine. It was a hard thing to give voice to, even now.

  “Seriously?” Shane asked, squinting. “Wow. Damn, honey. That’s . . . pretty fucking awful. And that guy must have been an idiot.”

  And she had no idea why, but for some reason the rest of her truth popped out of her mouth then, as well. “It really hurt me, really made me . . . withdraw a lot. I mean . . .” She stopped, shook her head. “I just haven’t really dated anyone since it happened. Until . . . well . . . you.”

  Oh God. Only as the words left her did she realize the size and impact of her confession.

  And as their eyes met in the room’s shadows, she knew he understood what a big thing it was for her to have had sex with him.

  He stayed quiet for a moment—and then he whispered, his voice coming out a little throaty, “What makes me so special, Candy?”

  She shook her head against his broad chest, at a loss for an answer. Then just tried to keep being honest. “You . . . excited me. And so . . . I guess it was time—that’s all.” Yeah, that’s good—make it sound like it’s not quite as huge a thing as it really is.

  But she wasn’t sure it had worked when he gently asked, “You gonna be okay when I leave, Candy Cane?”

  “I’m a big girl,” she promised, her heart pumping too hard. She wondered if he felt it, too, since they lay chest-to-chest at the moment.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said.

  So she took a deep breath. “Look, it’s been a couple of days, and I knew it was temporary. And I’m glad it’ll be at least a couple more days. And I’ll be sorry when you’re gone.” She slowed down then, quit barreling ahead, the emotion hitting her. “Really sorry. But . . .”

  “But . . . ?”

  “But you seem pretty dead-set on leaving . . . even when I think you know plenty of people around here would be happy if you stayed.”

  His brows rose slightly as he met her gaze. “People?”

  “Grampy. Edna,” she said. “And you seem to have made friends with Mick and some of the other guys in town.”

  He hesitated only slightly before asking, “Would you be happy if I stayed?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you’re not going to ask me to?”

  “No. That decision would have to be yours.” With Bobby she’d been . . . needy. She never wanted to be that again.

  “I’ve never had much,” he said softly.

  “And . . . ?” she asked, wondering what he was getting at.

  “The kind of money that comes with this job, Candy—it’s . . . too much to pass up. And if it turns out not to be honest work, well . . . I’ll at least make it as honest as I can. And I won’t do it forever. But it’s . . . a new start, a way to build a better future for myself.”

  There for a second, she’d almost thought he would tell her he’d consider staying. But now she realized she was wrong. And that was okay. Even if her heart dropped a little.

  She’d once wanted more from Bobby than he could give her. And maybe she wanted that from Shane, too. The difference this time was that she wouldn’t ask him for it, wouldn’t try to pull from him something that wasn’t freely given. The difference was that she’d grown up enough to know that the whole thing about letting something go and seeing if it came back to you was true.

  And she was willing to let Shane go. And he wasn’t coming back. But she was still able to love him.

  Oh God. It happened again. I love him. That fast. Already. I love him.

  Yet . . . even if this broke her heart again, even if it broke it badly . . . well, it was okay. Strange way to feel, but it was true. Because the love part was worth it.

  And maybe what she was learning this Christmas was—love you give away, without trying to get something back, that was real love.

  Seventeen

  “Remember, no man is a failure who
has friends.”

  Clarence Odbody, Angel 2nd Class, It’s a Wonderful Life

  Candice stood outside Miss Ellie’s front door, looking out over the Destiny Christmas party. In the distance, past the snowman she and Shane had built, people ice-skated on frozen, picturesque Blue Valley Lake, the few bare trees along the shoreline strung with white lights.

  Children ran and played in the garden at the side of the house, waiting for Santa to appear, and each new arrival hung an ornament they’d brought from home on a small pine tree just inside the garden gate—an activity her cousin Tessa had helped organize. A bright sun shone down over it all, from a clear blue sky, making the cold temperatures bearable.

  Behind her, from inside, she could hear Caroline playing carols on Miss Ellie’s piano—a number of voices could be heard harmonizing on “Up on the Roof Top.” And a peek in the front window revealed that Miss Ellie herself seemed to be having a grand afternoon, clapping her hands in time with the music.

  Later, her daughters would help her outside so that she could enjoy some of the outdoor activities. While most people might, by now, be feeling the imposition of hosting such an elaborate party and having so much action going on in and around their home, Miss Ellie looked to be truly enjoying it all, giving Candice the idea that maybe the party should always be held here, even after the church was fully repaired.

  She smiled upon seeing the Brodys make their way up the front walk along the path Mike and Logan had cleared. All were bundled up, and Mick carried little Dustin on one hip while Jenny toted ice skates and a plastic container of cookies.

  As Candice stepped up to take the container and say hello, Jenny beamed at her. “Candice, this was such a wonderful idea! It’s a winter wonderland!”

  She didn’t bother hiding her own smile. “Thanks—I’m pleased with how it’s turned out.”

  “Daddy, where’s Santa?”

  Mick looked to his toddler son, then glanced around. “We probably beat him here. But we’ll have some of Mommy’s cookies while we’re waiting—and you brought your ornament to hang, right?”