All I Want for Christmas is Big Blue Eyes

by Claire Ashgrove

  For a moment, he couldn’t move. He could only stand and dumbly stare. Yet, as he looked at Sandra, a spark ignited cinders of anger in his gut. “If I ever hear you insult Amanda again, deal’s off. You have your contract. We’ll finish this later.”

  Tucking his notebook under his elbow, he half-walked, half-ran to the door. One quick survey of the parking lot, and he found Amanda immediately. Sitting in her car, her forehead rested against the steering wheel. With a deep breath, he steeled himself against her fury and approached.

  His light tap on the window brought her upright with a jerk. But when she looked at him, and he noticed the tears on her face, defending himself took a backseat to the overwhelming urge to gather her close and do whatever it took to make her stop crying.

  She cracked the window. “Leave me alone, Josh.”

  He answered with a puzzled frown. “What did I do?”

  Wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hands, she shook her head. “If you don’t already know, I don’t feel like telling you.”

  How many times had he heard that before? Too many. Usually she used that line when he chose to play dumb and deserved the snub. This time, however, he didn’t have a clue.

  He pushed a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. “You gotta help me out here, honey.”

  In response, she rolled the window up and locked the doors.

  Oo-kay. So much for working things out like adults.

  He squinted at her.

  She looked beyond him, to the restaurant’s front doors.

  With a grimace, Josh went to his own car. She had to come home sometime tonight. He’d wait until she did. But by God, this wasn’t going to carry on all night. It was almost touching to consider she might be jealous, but Amanda had never been one to worry over his fidelity. She knew her place in his life, and he never let her have reason to doubt it. The chances she’d suddenly find the emotion now were slim.

  So what prompted this? Could it have been Sandra’s remark about why he’d come into town? Surely Amanda wouldn’t believe that after his confession about missing her. He’d also gone out of his way to prove she brought him back here too.

  He scowled as he navigated his car out of the parking lot and headed toward her house. So much for shopping. Evidently, he had atoning to do, and he intended to pay penance before she got home by doing something special for her. If she didn’t own the flower shop, he’d order a big arrangement of red lilies, her favorite flower. That used to go a long way when she was angry with him.

  Damn it, what had he done? This was insane. And where the hell had his mind vanished to? He shouldn’t be planning how to soothe this over. Not when he wasn’t even certain he held the blame. For all he knew, Amanda could be having a fit over something she imagined.

  Pulling into her driveway, he got out and slammed his car door behind him. He entered the house just as forcefully, the front door rattling on its hinges in his wake. Damn it, damn it, damn it. With a growl of frustration, he tossed his notepad on the dining room table and looked around. There had to be something he could do here to pacify what promised to be an illogical argument.

  He tromped up the stairs to the bedroom, but as he rounded the landing, the railing wobbled dangerously. His annoyance tempered, he eyed the hand-carved wood, his first thought—Emma, and how she regularly bounded down the stairs without care. He shook it again, evaluating where it was loose. The newel post stood tight, but the balusters on the landing gave easily.

  That’s what he’d do. He’d fix the railing while he waited on Amanda. Surely she had a hammer and some screws around here somewhere. While the task wouldn’t do much to smooth over whatever she was upset about, it would keep him occupied while he waited.

  First, he needed to change into something more comfortable if he was going to crawl on his hands and knees and repair things.

  Unbuttoning his shirt as he wandered into the bedroom, he shrugged it off and tossed it over the foot of the bed. He tugged a pair of cotton athletic pants and a loose black T-shirt out of his bags and quickly donned them, leaving his jeans near his abandoned shirt.

  Once comfortable, Josh returned downstairs and began his search where Amanda’s mother had always kept her household tools—in the kitchen, next to the knives. As he pulled open the long drawer, he grinned. Thank God, for small miracles… and for Amanda’s resistance to change.

  He pulled out a hammer. Rummaging deeper, he discovered a handful of small tacking nails. Not exactly what he’d hoped for, but they were long enough to secure the railing through the thick molding. He’d rather have something sturdier, but if he doubled, or even tripled, the nails he drove up through the balusters, they’d work. Besides, this way, he lessened his chances of splitting the ornate wood and ruining it.

  Returning to the stairwell, he dragged a chair over so he could reach the underside of the molding on the mid-level landing and sighted his nail. Without a drill, he had to be gentle. Slow. Methodical. This hand-carved wood was too old and couldn’t easily be replaced.

  He tapped and tapped, fixing the three balusters that comprised the short landing. Assessing his handiwork, he tested the handrail with a firm tug. It stood strong. Pleased with himself, he checked the rest of the stairwell, driving in additional reinforcements.

  As he finished the last, the front door opened, and Emma came charging in.

  “Josh, Josh!” She ran up to him, tugging on his pants. “You’ve got to take me to school tomorrow. Cindy doesn’t believe you’re a real prince!”

  With a hearty chuckle, he climbed off his chair and scooped her up into his arms, avoiding looking at Amanda. “When’s Christmas Break?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s Winter Break, not Christmas Break.”

  Giving her a little poke in the side that made her giggle, he asked, “When’s it start, Princess?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  Still avoiding making eye contact with Amanda, he carried Emma into the family room to sit down. He put her on his knee with a gentle pull to one of her pigtails. “Want me to take you in tomorrow?”

  “Emma,” Amanda interrupted, her voice quiet, yet commanding. “Go on up to your room. I need to talk to Josh.”

  Grimacing inwardly, Josh helped Emma to the floor. When she turned her pretty blue eyes up at him and pouted, he pinched her cheek. “Go on now. You heard your mother. We can talk about this after dinner.”

  Emma let out a long, harassed sigh and slunk up the stairs, her feet protesting with deliberate stomps.

  Josh looked to Amanda with a lift of his eyebrows. “Feel like explaining now?”

  She didn’t look any less angry. In fact, though he hadn’t imagined the possibility, her blue eyes reflected deeper fury. “You won’t be making promises, or encouraging Emma, when you aren’t going to be here.”

  He sighed, loudly. Dropping his head to the back of the couch, he counted to ten. Patiently, he replied, “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going anywhere?”

  “Yes, you are. You’re going to Lucas’, or back to The Victorianne, I don’t care. But I won’t have you here while you’re trying to destroy Emma’s inheritance.”

  Holy shit. What?

  He sat up slowly, twisting around to see if she was serious.

  Hard and sharp, her expression left no doubt in his mind she meant those words. Her narrowed eyes glittered like gems, only their shine was vastly different than the gleam they held when she was happy.

  She wanted him to leave.

  Something deep inside revolted, tugging at his gut and twisting it around and on top of itself. “Amanda, what are you talking about?” he asked, hoping she couldn’t hear the tremor in his voice. Leave her? He couldn’t. Nor could he recall a time when she’d ever been angry enough to want him to go.

  With a soft oath, she dropped her purse rather forcibly to the table. Her back to him, she answered in a low voice, “Don’t play stupid, Josh. We’re t
oo old for these games. You know why.”

  “I don’t!” He stopped his explosion, not wanting to yell. Emma didn’t need to hear their argument. The way it was starting implied this could get ugly, quick.

  Crossing the room and stalking into the kitchen, she let out a scoff. “Oh, come on, Josh. You can’t expect me to believe you don’t know who owns Sandra’s property? You own the acreage right next door.”

  Sandra owned Sandra’s property. What the hell was Amanda talking about?

  Josh started after her, but stopped in the doorway as she wheeled around to exit. She ducked under his arm, continued to the end of the long dining table, and pulled out a chair. Still scowling at him, she sat down heavily.

  With a deep breath, he struggled to control his rising frustration and the flicker of anger that threatened to ignite. Careful to keep his voice even, he said, “You better start at the beginning, because I don’t know a damn thing about what you’re talking about.”

  Under her sharp scrutiny, he read her disbelief, saw the suspicion lurking beneath her silent stare. But as he stood there, silently holding her gaze, the deep furrow in her brow relaxed. Her features softened a fraction, and she leaned back, curiosity now glowing in her blue eyes. “You don’t remember Tyler was Sandra’s brother?”

  He tossed his hands in the air with a frustrated mutter. “Of course I remember that. But I fail to see what it has to do with whatever has you so pissed off.”

  “Tyler left that land Sandra’s trying to develop to Emma. It’s the same property I told you about the other night.”

  He drew back. For the love of God…

  No wonder she was so irate. But if she owed the taxes on it, and she could sell it, she’d make double the current value. She could be free of her debts faster than she could blink. In turn, Emma could buy three other pieces of land for what she’d make in the sale. Or she could put some into savings and have a nice cushion if she ever needed anything as she grew older.

  Moving closer, he dropped to squat in front of Amanda and took one of her hands. He gazed up at her in earnest, hoping she’d listen to a little logic. “Honey, do you realize if you let Sandra buy that land, you can buy Emma better, larger, acreage?”

  She shook her head. Tugging on her hand, she pulled it from his. “No I can’t. Sandra’s company will purchase it and reap in the rents, not share them with Emma. Besides, Tyler wanted Emma to have that land. He didn’t like me much, but he loved her. It’s all she’s got left of her father.”

  Sentiment meant little when faced with the possibility of having nothing left of her father if Amanda let Sandra buy that property on the auction block. If she negotiated the sale right—and he’d be more than happy to set her up with a damn good attorney—Emma would at least have something.

  “But Amanda, don’t you understand Tyler would probably be just as happy if she had college money? Savings she could enjoy? Some frivolous things like a pony?”

  In a flash, her anger returned. She jumped out of the chair, her chest heaving, the V-neck on her shirt revealing a crimson flush. “No, it’s you that doesn’t understand.” She turned to the stairs. “You can sleep down here tonight, Josh. I’ll set blankets outside the bedroom door. I’m going to bed.”

  Before he could find his tongue, she was gone, only the sound of her footsteps moving over the floorboards above his head, drumming through the stillness remained. He listened as her door closed, then squeaked open again.

  “Emma? Come in here with Mommy. We’re going to order a pizza and watch movies,” she called down the hall. Her tone lacked the venom she’d summoned for him, and Josh flinched.

  “Ooh, is Josh going to watch with us?” Emma’s voice drifted closer as she wandered toward her mother.

  “No, sweetheart.”

  “Aw, Mo-om.”

  “Don’t argue with me, Emma Rose. Josh has other things to do.”

  The bedroom door closed with a soft thud. A few seconds later, the click of the lock echoed ominously in the hallway.

  Excluded. Jesus Christ, what had he missed in that conversation? This was completely illogical, and completely not like Amanda. He felt like he’d been given the beginning and the end to a great novel, but someone snatched the middle out and he didn’t know why the hero was receiving the country’s highest honors and a homecoming parade.

  This was absurd. She expected him to sit back and accept her terms, terms he wasn’t entirely certain he understood. What did she expect? That she’d tell him and he’d back out of his contract? He almost snorted. Amanda could get him to do almost anything under the sun with little effort. But no amount of pleading, begging, crying, or fury would make him jeopardize his business’ reputation or his industry name. A contract was a contract. If he’d known there were issues, he’d have consulted her first. Now, however, he was obligated.

  Damn it. What wasn’t she telling him? Her behavior conflicted with everything he understood about her. There was some deeper, driving factor to her anger. It was the only thing that justified this erratic, emotional, outburst.

  Someone had answers he needed. Someone named Lucas.

  Rising, Josh stuffed his feet into his shoes and yanked his coat off the wall. He would not let Amanda push him away like this. And he absolutely refused to sleep a single night on her couch.

  He stormed out the door, unconcerned about the way the windows rattled. Maybe one would break. If it did, she’d have a legitimate reason to be mad at him. At least that situation he could fix. Buy her a new window. Replace the broken panes.

  This just left him floundering.

  He slid into his car, turned the key, and punched it in reverse. With barely a glance over his shoulder to check for oncoming traffic, he sped into the street as snow began to fall.

  Eighteen

  Josh jogged up Lucas’ front steps and rapped on his door. The cold whipped through his coat, seeped into his bones and made his teeth chatter as he waited. Dipping his head to blow on his hands, he shuffled his feet. The damn temperature must have dropped ten degrees since the middle of the day. He hadn’t known they were calling for snow. But by the heavy flakes pelting down from above, he guessed they’d get a good inch before it let up.

  Lucas opened the door, wearing a puzzled frown. From within, the scent of cooking meat drifted to Josh’s nose, prodding his stomach into long rumble. He should have had the sense to eat something earlier today and not let his lunch get cold. Only, he’d had no idea tonight would turn out like this.

  “Josh? What are you doin’ out? The roads are s’posed to turn to shit.”

  “Got a few minutes, Luc? I need some answers.”

  Stepping back, Lucas let him inside. The strong aroma of garlic and herb intensified, and Josh’s stomach growled again. “What are you cooking? Smells good.”

  “Just put a couple burgers on the broiler. Thought you and ‘Manda were goin’ out to eat tonight?” He wandered back to his kitchen.

  Josh followed, sifting through his mind for a place to start the conversation he planned. He’d need to tread carefully given Lucas’ rabid loyalty to Amanda these days. “We had a bit of a… disagreement.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted as Lucas pulled his dinner from the stove. “Want one?” He indicated the sizzling burgers with a long-handled metal spatula.

  “Ah, sure.” Thank God, at least one uncomfortable feeling would settle down.

  With a flip and a twist of his wrist, Lucas dropped the four burgers onto buns laid out on a plate. He grabbed another plate from the dish dryer in the sink and rummaged beneath the counter for the ketchup and mustard.

  “I’m out of pickles, an’ I didn’t cut onions. There’s beer an’ Coke in the fridge.”

  Beer. That’d take the edge off. He’d wash his food down with one before he dove into this mess with Amanda. Josh went to the fridge.

  Glancing around the kitchen as he twisted off the Bud Light bottle top, Josh took in the stark, light ye
llow walls. Unlike Amanda’s house, Lucas’ had few personal effects or any wall coverings. The result left the house feeling somewhat cold and unfriendly.

  He took a seat at the small table, and they ate in silence, too focused on filling their bellies to make conversation. Which gave Josh time to think about his rather one-sided conversation with Amanda. She hadn’t even considered what he suggested before she flew off the handle again and decided she didn’t want him in her bed.

  That went against the Amanda he knew. The woman he understood actively sought his opinion, considered his suggestions. The only time she refused to listen to him and went her own way was when it dealt with their relationship and his fear-driven hesitations.

  Dinner finished, Josh dropped his plate in the sink and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. With his head angled to the side, his frown returned, and he leveled his gaze on Lucas. “Why did Amanda kick me to the couch when I suggested she consider Sandra’s offer on Emma’s property?”

  Lucas’ eyes widened, and he swallowed a swig of Coke with a cough. “You did what?”

  “Penny for penny, Luc, if she sells that land, Emma comes out ahead.”

  Closing his eyes for a moment, his mouth partly open as if he couldn’t find immediate words, Lucas leaned back in his wooden chair. After a few minutes, he cocked one open and looked at Josh. “You really didn’t ask Amanda to give in to Sandra’s bullyin’—tell me you didn’t?”

  Josh kicked one ankle across the other and shrugged his shoulders. “Sandra wants to buy it. Amanda owes taxes on it. She won’t let me pay them. There’s a logical progression here, Luc. One I’d expect you to see right off the bat. One that doesn’t warrant kicking me out.”

  With a soft chuckle, Lucas sat forward, leaning one elbow on the table. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  Frowning, Josh let out a long, annoyed mutter. Obviously, he didn’t get it if everyone associated with Amanda went up in arms the minute he broached the subject. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lucas’s sharp voice silenced his words.