“I know so,” Savy said. She tried to infuse her words with all of the confidence she could muster. “You’ve got this. Now go be with your man. I’ll lock up.”
“Okay.” Maisy flashed her a bright smile. Then she hugged Savy hard. “I’m so glad you’re here to help me. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Savy hugged her back.
She watched from the porch as Maisy dashed across the side yard to the house next door. Ryder had bought it as a surprise for her and they were in the midst of refurbishing it for their spring wedding. Unless the bookstore collapsed around them and Maisy lost everything, including her new home. Ack!
Savy dashed back into the bookstore, grabbed her purse, set the alarm, and headed for her car, which was parked on the street. The night air was cold with a bite to it and she glanced up to see if the stars were shining. They weren’t. She wondered if that meant they were in for some snow. While it would be lovely and festive, it would also mean people would stay home instead of coming out to the store and shopping. That settled it. She hoped there was no snow.
Her car was an old clunker she’d bought just to get around Fairdale. Its heater didn’t work, which she considered more incentive to get out of Fairdale and back to the land of pedestrianism where she didn’t need a car.
She drove out of town and down the winding roads toward Shadow Pine Stables. Maisy had dragged her on a trail ride back in October when the leaves had been changing and everything was gloriously colorful. It was quite the spread with several corrals, a huge barn, a guest cottage, and a big old farmhouse, with a full-on wraparound porch and everything. She turned a long corner and came over a small rise and there it was. Normally, on a dark night like tonight, on a road that had no streetlights, she would have barely been able to make out the place, but at the moment it was lit up like it had been hit with napalm.
Savy’s foot slipped off the gas and her car began to slow as her eyes got wider and wider. The man was crackers. Completely, utterly bonkers.
She turned into the driveway, passing the cottage, which sported festive strings of white lights, and then followed the drive up to the house. The big white two-story house was presently covered in so many strands of lights that it was a beacon in the darkness to passing aircraft. Some of the lights twinkled, some flashed, and some played carols while the lights changed. An enormous blow-up Santa was on the roof, looking like he was about to jump down the chimney. The railings of the front porch were swathed in pine boughs and an enormous wreath hung on the front door. In every window of the house a single white candle glowed. Savy parked her car and stared and stared. She couldn’t take it all in. It was too much.
She got out of her car and stood in the cold night air, staring at the house. She had heard stories of people who embraced the holiday with this much fervor but she’d never actually met one. She had way more than met Quino. Who would have thought that under his rugged cowboy exterior there lurked a Christmas sadist?
“Whatcha doin’?” a voice called from the porch.
Savy’s gaze bounced around until she saw him, standing on the side of the porch, fussing with a strand of lights that was twined about the railing. He was wearing another Christmas sweater—this one was blue and had a present on it but did not appear to light up. Amen.
“I’m just taking it all in,” she said.
He grinned and she could see a slash of white teeth in the face that was backlit by the display behind him. She walked over to where he stood and repeated his question to him. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Waiting for a friend,” he said. He dropped the lights and looked at her with his dark gaze, and Savy felt the blast of affection warm her all the way to her toes. “Come on. Let’s get inside out of the cold.”
She followed him up the steps and into the house. There was an old-fashioned coatrack to one side of the front door and Savy hung up her purse and her jacket on one of the hooks. Following Quino’s lead, she kicked off her shoes and moved them to the side. A large living room was off to the left while a staircase and a hallway offered two other exits off the foyer. Quino headed to the left into the large living room.
A fire was hissing and spitting in a large stone fireplace on the far side of the room. Two brown leather couches dominated most of the space, centered around a big flat-screen television that was on the wall between two large windows. Savy assumed from their location that they overlooked the side pasture and the barn, but it was dark and she couldn’t be sure.
A bare Christmas tree was set up against the wall opposite from the fireplace and stacks of boxes surrounded it. Good grief. If they put all of these ornaments on the tree, they were going to be here all night. She wondered why that didn’t immediately strike her as a bad thing.
“All right,” he said. He put his hands together and said. “Eggnog?”
“Really?” she asked. “You actually drink that stuff?”
“Aw, come on, you don’t like eggnog?” he asked. “It’s homemade.”
“Like with raw eggs?”
“No, with cooked egg yolks and more important, rum,” he said. “Trust me.”
Savy shook her head. “I’ve only had the stuff out of a carton at the grocery store.”
“Yeah, that’s like drinking cinnamon-laced half-and-half,” he said. “Bleck.”
“All right,” she said. “But if I don’t like it, I don’t want you to get all pitiful.”
“You’ll like it,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
Savannah moved to stand by the fire. She did a quick glance up at the ceiling. No mistletoe. Huh. She was surprised she didn’t feel more relieved.
She shook her head. Clearly, she was still under Quino’s spell from last night. It would just take them a little while to find their friendship footing. But if they focused on the need to save the bookstore, that would keep their priorities in order. She was sure of it.
She noted the mantel had several framed photographs amidst all of the pine boughs. The pictures were older but she could see Quino as a young teen with a girl she recognized as his sister, Desi. The couple with them must be their parents. She noticed that Quino had his mother’s smile and his father’s eyes. They looked like a happy family and she wondered what growing up here with these parents must have been like.
There were several more photographs, some with all four of them and some just of Desi and Quino. None of the pictures were recent, as if that sort of thing had stopped with the passing of their parents. Savy knew that Quino had stepped up to raise his sister after their parents were killed. She wondered if living here and running the stables had been Quino’s dream or if he had planned something else but life got in the way. She wondered how she could ask him without it being too intrusive.
“Here you go,” he said. He was carrying two mugs, both filled to the brim with a dusting of cinnamon on top.
Savannah turned away from the photos and took the mug he held out to her. The fire at her back felt warm and she sipped the cold beverage, bracing herself for the slimy thick taste of eggnog. This had none of that. It was light and fluffy with a zip of alcohol. It was delicious.
“Okay, you win,” she said. “That’s amazing.”
He grinned at her. It was a slow, lazy grin that reminded her of how he’d looked at her during their lone night of debauchery. Savy sighed. If only she wanted to stay here. She could see herself dating this man. But really, any relationship was doomed from the start because they wanted different things. It was best that she not forget this.
“So, how does this work?” she asked. “Do you watch the movie while you decorate the tree or do you decorate and then watch the movie?”
“Little bit of both,” he said. “It doesn’t take the whole length of the movie to decorate, so we usually start at the same time and then sit to watch the end.”
“All right,” Savy said. Sh
e took a big glug of eggnog. The rum was a bit stronger than she’d anticipated. “Let’s get this party started.”
Quino took the mug out of her hand and set it on the coffee table. Then he picked up a box of ornaments and handed them to her. She gave him a sassy salute but turned to the tree and set to work while Quino started the movie. The box he had given her was full of vintage glass ornaments that looked like they were from the ’50s.
“What’s the story behind these ornaments?” she asked.
He glanced up from the remote as the opening credits started to roll. He put the controller on the coffee table and joined her by the tree.
“Those were my grandparents’,” he said. “When they were first married. See? All twelve are the symbols for a happy marriage.”
He lifted an ornament out of the box. It was shaped like a heart. The date, hand painted on it, read December 15, 1955. “That’s the date they were married.” He hung it high on the tree. “The rest of these are symbolic.”
Savy lifted out a pretty glass pinecone. “Explain.”
His grin was wicked and his chuckle low and deep, making her shiver in a delicious way. She shook it off.
“Really?” she asked. “What does it represent, a naughty game of hide the pinecone?”
“Close, actually,” he said. “It stands for fertility, fruitfulness, and motherhood.”
Savy dropped it gently back into the box. She pointed at the teapot. “And that one?”
“Hospitality,” he said as he picked it up and put it on the tree. Then he put on the pinecone.
“And the rabbit?” she asked. “Call me crazy but that seems off-season.”
“It stands for nature and hope,” he said. He picked it up and handed it to her. “Here.”
Savy put the box down and took the ornament. She’d never put up a tree of her own. She didn’t even own any Christmas decorations. Her mother’s tree was always done by her interior decorator and had a different color scheme every year. As far as Savy knew, they didn’t have any family ornaments. She gingerly put the rabbit on the front of the tree, below the heart but with enough space between so it wasn’t crowded.
They continued decorating. Some boxes were just regulation ornaments but some were obviously treasures. There was a child’s handprint in clay, painted green and glitter-bombed. She looked at the back and saw the name Desi written with the date ’98. It was such a tiny handprint. It made her throat tighten, thinking about the little girl who made it.
“Where is Desi?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her lately.”
Quino turned away from adjusting a string of lights on the tree to face her. He looked resigned when he said, “She’s traveling.”
Savy could tell he missed his sister. She knew Quino and Desi well enough to know they were close. It was clear Quino felt the absence of his sister and she was glad she could be here to fill the void in a friendly capacity.
“Uh-oh, there he is!” Quino cried. “Ten points if you hit him on the nose, five points on the face, one point for body shots!”
“What? Who?” Savy glanced around the room.
“Mr. Potter!” Quino said. He pointed at the screen. He snatched a bowl of popcorn up off the table, snagged a kernel, and hit Potter right on the beak. He gave Savy a triumphant look. “Ten points.”
She frowned at him and then at the bowl. She grabbed a fistful of kernels and chucked the whole handful at the television screen. “Fifty points!”
“It’s supposed to be one kernel at a time,” Quino protested, but he was laughing. “But I like your style.”
He was so sexy when he laughed. His thick dark hair fell back from his face in waves and his chiseled features softened with youthful exuberance. Savy got a sense of what he had looked like when he was young and she knew that if they had met when they were teens, she would have been crushing so hard on him.
“Sorry, I got carried away,” she said.
She turned away from him, afraid she was going to reveal too much, and instead she began to pick up the popcorn she had thrown. Quino knelt down beside her and helped.
“No harm in that,” he said.
She glanced up and met his gaze. She wondered if he was referring to popcorn tossing or their night where they had both been spectacularly carried away. She swallowed hard and then reached for her eggnog, downing the frothy goodness in one long chug.
“Easy there,” he said. “That nog’s got some kick.”
“Pfff.” She waved a dismissive hand. Then she took her mug and her fistful of throwaway popcorn and headed to the kitchen. “I’m having more. How about you?”
“Right behind you,” he said.
She glanced at him to see if he’d meant that in a pervy way but he just smiled at her. The picture of innocence. Huh.
“So, I meant to ask you,” he said. “Did you find out anything from Jeri about the shop?”
“No,” she said. She navigated the hallway that opened into a large dining room, with a lovely antique table and chairs and a matching hutch, and continued on to the kitchen beyond. It was a beautiful space with white cabinets and concrete counters done in the palest shade of blue. The garbage was exactly where she would put it, under the kitchen sink, and she dumped her kernels there and then headed for the refrigerator. A big glass pitcher full of frothy yumminess was sitting there and she grabbed it and put it on the counter.
When she would have started pouring, Quino stopped her and said, “Wait, it’s important to do this right.”
She relinquished her mug and watched as he refreshed both of their beverages and then proceeded to sprinkle cinnamon and grate fresh nutmeg on top of the nog. The man was a marvel.
“Quino,” she said. “This might be the rum talking, but you are going to make someone a fabulous wife someday.”
He grinned as he put the pitcher back. “Yeah, it’s the rum talking, but I’ll take it.”
He led the way back to the living room. They resumed decorating the tree while watching the movie and Savy killed off another mug of eggnog and then another. When the tree was done, Quino snapped off the living room lights so they could enjoy the glow of the tree and the sparkle of ornaments. Savy felt a warmth inside of her that she knew was most likely the rum, but she was too self-aware and honest to deny that there was a tiny jingle bell of Christmas spirit, ring-a-ling-a-linging down deep inside of her.
Is this what people felt during the holidays? This glowing warmth from within, where everything seemed as precious and pure as a new snowfall? Well, no wonder people got all giddy about the holidays. This felt really . . . nice.
They sat on the couch to watch the end of the movie. Savy had seen bits of the movie before but never in a farmhouse, with a cozy fire, a bellyful of eggnog and popcorn, and a hot cowboy beside her, having just decorated a Christmas tree.
When the joyous moment came in the movie, she felt her throat close up and her eyes were watery. She tried to push it down, but she couldn’t. A tear slipped out and she tried to covertly wipe it away. Quino saw her, however. He lifted his arm in silent invitation, and she scooted across the couch and slipped underneath it, letting him pull her close.
It felt right. She tried not to dwell on it. As the credits rolled, she felt her eyes begin to droop. It had been a full day and she was beat, plus, he smelled so good and he was so warm and solid. In a life that had been full of defeat lately, this felt like a win.
She battled to stay awake to see the bell ring on the Christmas tree, but she had one foot in the here and now and one foot in the dreamy place where kisses were exchanged under the mistletoe with a guy who made her heart beat fast.
“It’s too bad,” she said.
“What’s too bad?” His voice was a soft low growl in her ear.
“That you don’t have any mistletoe hanging. This place could use some mistletoe.”
�
�Excuse me?” he asked. He was watching her with a small smile and Savy felt compelled to tell him the truth.
“I have to tell you, stable boy,” she said. His eyebrows went up but he didn’t interrupt. “That night with you was the best I’ve ever had. I mean, off the charts, it’s never ever going to be that Please, sir, may I have some more? wowsie wow wow again.” She leaned close, making sure she looked him in the eye when she whispered, “I had no idea sex could be that, you know—sexy.”
Chapter Thirteen
QUINO didn’t move. Savy slumped in his arms and he just sat there. Did she just say . . . ? A soft snore interrupted his train of thought. He glanced down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were shut, her mouth was slightly parted, her breathing was long and deep. Red was down for the count.
He lifted the remote from the cushion beside him and muted the television. In the glow of the tree’s lights he could see the colors in her hair. It wasn’t just red; it was shot with individual strands of gold and copper. He was fascinated. She fit perfectly against him and he rested his cheek on her soft curls. He pulled the pretty blue afghan his mother had knit when he was a boy over them and held her close while she slept. Probably, he should wake her, but she’d had a lot of eggnog and he didn’t think she should drive. He was really just being responsible.
He wondered about her comment on the lack of mistletoe and their previous night together. Had she been hoping he’d kiss her tonight? He had promised not to push and he wouldn’t. Not unless she gave him a clear signal that she wanted more. He felt like it was a victory just getting her here in his house.
He glanced around the room full of so many memories of his parents and Desi. He remembered his dad kissing his mom under the mistletoe in the doorway over there and by the window and in the kitchen. He smiled. His dad had known how to work the mistletoe, but he also remembered that his mother had always been the one to buy the mistletoe, so clearly, she encouraged him.
Quino had always hoped to have what his parents had had. They were best friends, devoted to each other and their kids. He wanted that. And he wanted it with this crazy redhead in his arms. He knew that Savy had to figure it out for herself. What they had was more than just a combustible attraction, which she had just so helpfully acknowledged. Over the past few months, he had discovered that they had the same sense of humor, the same set of values, and the same pigheadedness. Which unfortunately meant that as much as he believed they should be together, she believed they shouldn’t. All of which made him certain they had the potential to be something really great together.
The Christmas Keeper Page 16
