Between Christmas and Romance

by Shanna Hatfield

  The next morning, I bounced out of bed at five, eager to begin the day. I dressed in my workout clothes and made my way downstairs to the area in the basement where I’d set up a home gym. I hopped on the treadmill and ran four miles before I settled onto a mat on the floor and got in some much-needed stretches. I rolled from one side to the other only to discover a pair of eyeballs so close to mine, I could count individual eyelashes.

  Startled, I jerked back while Hemi glared at me like I’d offended him. The cat rarely entered the basement and never came downstairs while I was exercising, so I don’t know what inspired him to do so this morning. I gave him a few scratches then went back to stretching. Only Hemi had other ideas. Every time I moved, I either had his tail or a paw in my face. After five minutes of trying to get him to stop, I gave up and held him on my lap while he purred in bliss.

  “You are the strangest cat, Hemi. Do you know that?”

  More purrs provided his response to my question.

  Aware I wasn’t getting in any more exercise with Hemi’s unwanted assistance, I carried him upstairs to the storage room then opened the back door, letting him out for a few minutes. I left the door open a crack and the chilly air made the sweat on my skin feel as though it might turn to ice. Quickly filling his food and water bowls, I stepped to the far side of the room, away from the door, waiting for the cat. He pranced in and headed straight for his breakfast.

  I shut the door and locked it, rubbing my hands on my bare arms to warm my skin as I rushed upstairs to my apartment. At least I could get ready this morning without him sitting outside the bathroom door, yowling at me to hurry things along.

  After indulging in a long, hot shower, I blow-dried my hair and stared at the reflection in the mirror, something I hadn’t done in more than a year.

  Natural golden highlights accent my thick, light brown hair. They don’t look like much indoors, but out in the sun, they shine. My eyes are blue, the color of cornflowers, if my dad’s description could be believed. And I’m fortunate to have long eyelashes that curl slightly on the ends. My cheekbones are prominent, but my skin is clear and smooth with peachy undertones. Thanks to two years of braces, I had straight, white teeth and a mouth that wasn’t too wide or too small. If asked, my mother would say my chin is stubborn, but since we weren’t speaking, I guess I can describe it any way I like.

  Someone had once told me my face was symmetrical perfection. Of course, they wanted something from me, so the flattery was most likely fake. Men had commented on my delicate facial structure, some had told me I was beautiful, and others had leered at me until I wanted to run away. My looks had been what drove me away from Christmas Mountain and the very reason I’d returned.

  Thoughts of what had happened during the years I’d been gone made me edgy, so I tucked them back inside the box at the back of my mind, slammed the mental lid, and dressed for the day. As I slipped on an oversized blouse, Tim Burke’s comment about wearing clothes that would fit a woman four sizes bigger taunted me. He wasn’t wrong.

  When you want to avoid people seeing you a certain way, you have to guide them a different direction, which is why I generally wore loose blouses or dresses with sweaters or vests. Camouflaging my shape had morphed into an art I’d perfected. I picked up the glasses I wore in the store and considered how Tim knew I didn’t need to wear them. The lenses were clear with no prescription. They were just one more piece of what I viewed as a disguise.

  Did other people know? I hoped not.

  Of all the people in Christmas Mountain, the only one who knew the full truth about me, about my past, was Mr. Abernathy, and he’d take my secrets to his grave. Ms. King knew, but she was gone now. Only a few other people knew all about my past, but I trusted them with my life and they’d never set foot in Christmas Mountain, anyway.

  Bothered by my morning musings, I made a cup of pumpkin spice tea and toasted a bagel, savoring the simple meal in my favorite chair. Hemi wandered into the apartment, since I’d left the door open for him, and plopped down on my foot. He rolled from his back to his side a few times, before curling up and closing his eyes. Apparently, tormenting me while I attempted to exercise was exhausting.

  With a smile at the crazy cat, I picked up a book I’d started reading a few days ago and managed to read through a page or two before ponderings about Tim infiltrated my thoughts and left me unable to concentrate.

  The man was built like a tree, sturdy and solid. From bumping into him, I could tell there were muscles aplenty beneath his coat and shirt. Long, strong legs, that kissable mouth, and eyes that looked like melted chocolate would captivate any woman.

  When I started imagining what it would feel like to have him hold me in his arms against that broad chest, I hopped up and scurried into the kitchen. I made a second cup of tea, gathered my things, and headed toward the door.

  “Hemi, let’s go. I’ve got things to do downstairs.”

  From my position near the door, I watched as the cat lazily stretched, as though he needed time to consider if he’d get up or go back to sleep.

  “Hemi, move it,” I said. The stern tone of my voice got him up and sauntering toward the door. He paused long enough to stop and rub against my leg, leaving a wide path of cat hair on my dark blue leggings.

  Involuntarily, my eyes rolled upward as I followed Hemi out of the apartment and shut the door.

  He scampered downstairs and disappeared into the storage room while I turned on equipment, flicked on light switches, then plugged in the strands of Christmas lights. The twinkle of hundreds of little lights lightened my mood and made me smile.

  The day passed quickly and before I knew it, Aiden swept the floor and gathered the trash while I took care of the day’s bookwork and prepared the bank deposit.

  He was almost to the door when he glanced back at me. “Are you doing anything special tomorrow for Thanksgiving?”

  I nodded my head. “Yes, I’ve got plans. Are your folks still planning to host all your family?” I asked as I stepped around the counter and over to the door.

  “Unfortunately, yes. My sisters are home from college, my grandparents are coming from Great Falls, and my aunt Tracey will be there with her horrible kids. The last time they came, my cousins destroyed everything.” Aiden looked like he anticipated the visit with all the delight one would use to welcome a herd of stampeding elephants. “It’s going to be awful.”

  I patted him on the back. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Try to enjoy the day, Aiden, and have a happy Thanksgiving.”

  “I’ll try.” He opened the door and stepped outside. “Thanks for scheduling me to work Friday. It gives me a great reason to escape my family.”

  I laughed and gave him a nudge forward. “Get out of here.”

  He grinned and jogged down the street. He only lived a few blocks from the store so it wouldn’t take him long to reach the warmth of home. When I hired him, he told me he wanted to earn money to buy a car so he could have transportation to get himself out of Christmas Mountain the moment he graduated from high school. Since he was a junior, I wondered if he’d change his mind before then.

  Often, he talked about the places he wanted to visit and the things he wanted to see. He mentioned backpacking across Europe with a group of friends more than once. I could have told him some great places to visit if he did it, but kept my mouth shut. The less people knew about me and where I’d spent my time since graduating and leaving town, the better.

  In ways, Aiden reminded me of my younger self. I was just as hungry for adventure, just as eager to experience life as he was. And I did follow my dreams for a while. Then I got a big, fat reality check.

  One that still left me reeling.

  Hemi wandered into the store and meowed as he made his way around the displays over to the stairs.

  “I’m ready to head up, too, Hemi.” I quickly locked the door, turned off the lights, and rushed upstairs.

  I ate a salad and perused the viewing selections on TV, disgu
sted to realize my thoughts had once again turned to Tim Burke.

  “Stop being an idiot,” I muttered, earning an odd glimpse from the cat.

  As much as I disliked Nancy’s grandson, I had no idea why I couldn’t seem to get him and those warm chocolate brown eyes of his out of my head.

  Thankfully, before I could give him more thought, the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID, surprised to see a New York number.

  “Hello,” I answered cautiously.

  “Hey, girl! Happy almost Thanksgiving. How are things in the sticks?”

  I grinned, glad to hear from my friend, Lacey Lane. She worked as a publicist on a reality TV show in New York. We met when I first landed in the city after leaving Christmas Mountain. We clicked and had been good friends since then. I knew Lacey had been busy filming a new dating show, at least she was when I spoke to her a month ago.

  “Happy almost Thanksgiving, Lacey. What are you doing up so late?” I asked, then realized late for Montana would be barely winding down time in New York.

  “Late?” she asked, sounding surprised. “Isn’t it like eight there? You truly are embracing your roots, aren’t you?”

  Before I could reply, she laughed. “Don’t you remember the time we stayed out until four in the morning with those two guys who…”

  The last thing I needed was a trip down memory lane with Lacey. “That was forever ago. I’d like to think we’ve grown up and matured since then.”

  “I suppose we have,” Lacey conceded. “But we did have a lot of fun. Then you had to go and get yourself into this mess that left you cowering in the shadows in Hickville.”

  I sighed. “Christmas Mountain is not Hickville. It’s a perfectly lovely little town in the mountains. In fact, you should come for a visit sometime. I think you’d love it.” I could just picture Lacey strolling down Main Street in one of her chic outfits, surveying the town with a critical eye and a dash of her ever-present humor.

  “Maybe I’ll come for a visit next year. Things are really busy with work right now.”

  “What’s going on?” I settled back into the soft cushions of my couch and enjoyed a good chat with Lacey.

  She told me about a guy she’d been dating who’d turned out to be another dud.

  “What about you? Any tall, dark and handsome cowboys sweeping you off your feet?” Lacey asked. “Any good-looking guys catching your eye?”

  “No!” I nearly shouted.

  “Spill right now, Carol Bennett! You have met somebody. The way you said no sounds more like a ‘oh, yeah!’ to me. Who is he? What’s his name? What does he do?”

  Rats. Of course, Lacey would pick up my too quick denial that there was no one of interest in Christmas Mountain. In truth, I’d hardly been able to get Tim Burke out of my head long enough to function since he’d strolled out of my store with those spurs jingling like Christmas bells.

  “There isn’t anyone, not like you think, Lace. This obnoxious, know-it-all cowboy came into the store yesterday to pick up his grandmother’s books and he was absolutely infuriating!”

  “Was he tall? Taller than you?”

  “Yes, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Everything. How about handsome? What does he look like?”

  I envisioned Tim’s sensuous mouth, his warm brown eyes, the strong jaw covered in rakish stubble. “Homely. So homely.”

  Lacey laughed. “I bet he’s one of those men so rugged and virile, he looks like he belongs on a magazine cover.”

  Maybe, but I sure wasn’t going to tell her that.

  “I need to run, Carol. I’m supposed to meet someone in ten minutes and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.”

  “Got a hot date?” I asked, wishing Lacey could find someone who made her feel like a queen instead of dating guys who ended up turning into frogs.

  “Don’t I wish. No, it’s a work thing.”

  I could hear the jangle of keys and imagined her gathering her things from her office and speeding out the door. “I’m glad you called, Lacey. It’s always nice to connect with you. Take care and have a wonderful Thanksgiving.”

  “I will. Just promise me you won’t sit alone in your apartment, hiding away from the world. Call that infuriating cowboy and see if he’d like to help you stuff a turkey.”

  Since I had no intention of ever speaking to Tim again, I feigned a bad connection. “I’m losing reception. Talk to you soon!”

  Chapter Three

  Although I’d told Aiden I had special plans for Thanksgiving, the truth was I had nothing going on.

  My so-called plans included sleeping in, eating a frozen turkey dinner, and reading or watching movies.

  I could have accepted the invitations offered by friends to join them for dinner, but I politely refused. It’s weird being at a gathering of family members on a holiday, especially when you aren’t family. And with my current situation, it makes for a nerve-wracking experience. I much prefer a quiet day alone, or at least I convinced myself of that.

  Years have passed since I celebrated any holiday with my family. I never met my grandparents, was an only child, and have no idea if aunts, uncles, or cousins exist. My dad died from an aneurysm two months before my high school graduation. My mother and I have never been close. We’ve only spoken twice in the last nine years. Last I heard, she’d moved to California and married a plastic surgeon. Maybe he could make her appear as perfect as she always expected me to look.

  With my thoughts about to spiral in a depressing direction, I snatched them back on track and stretched lazily in bed.

  It was almost eight. Rare were the days when I slept past six. With nothing else to do, I was in no hurry to climb from beneath the warm covers.

  However, someone failed to give Hemi that memo as he stood next to the bed, glowering at me. When I’d first taken him in, I made it clear he was welcome anywhere in my apartment, except on my bed. The thought of waking up with his face or, horror of all horrors, tail in my face was enough to keep me from allowing him to snuggle on the bed.

  He made up for that slight by loudly demanding I get up. Right now. Although I’d left a dish of dry cat food for him in the kitchen, he was particular about where he ate.

  “Fine, I’m up,” I said, rolling out of bed and shoving my feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers that looked like a bright pink monster attempted to consume me, toes first. I snagged a thick robe I’d purchased in Spain that was so soft and warm it felt like being wrapped in clouds on a summer day.

  Hemi stood at the apartment door, tail swishing impatiently as I rammed my arms into the sleeves of the robe and tied the belt around my waist. The moment I opened the door, he scurried around the bookcase, down the stairs, and toward the storage room. I yawned as I made my way there, opening the door so he could race outside. I filled his food bowl, gave him fresh water, and was glad I’d remembered to clean his litter box last night so I wouldn’t have to deal with it today.

  He wasn’t outside long before he raced back in and over to his food bowl where he started crunching his food like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  “You have a flair for drama, Hemi.” Then again, so did his namesake.

  I shuffled back upstairs, made a cup of cranberry tea, and sipped it while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Bored by the time I’d sat through thirty minutes of it, I decided to go for a walk. No one would pay any attention to me and I could use the fresh air to clear my mind which seemed to be tripping all over itself today.

  I started to pull on sweats then changed my mind. In the mood to dress more like I used to, I tossed the sweats in a drawer. After a quick shower, I slid into a pair of designer jeans and a chunky cream sweater I’d picked up in Ireland. Although I rarely wear makeup anymore or do anything with my hair other than twist it into a bun, I added a touch of mascara, a swipe of lip gloss, and spent twenty minutes curling my hair. The odds of me running into anyone were slim to none. All my friends would be busy getting ready for a big turkey dinner.
But it felt good to spend a little time on my appearance today.

  Ready to go, I pulled on a pair of brown leather boots I’d purchased in Morocco then grabbed my coat, scarf, and a pair of gloves.

  Quickly gathering my keys, wallet, and phone, I tucked them into my pockets and hurried downstairs. Rather than go out the back and walk through the alley, I unlocked the front door, stepped outside, and locked it again.

  The air was crisp and fallen leaves skittered down the sidewalk as I strolled away from my shop. With no destination in mind, I meandered along Main Street, glancing in the quaint shop windows. I loved that the buildings were brick, most of them tall and narrow. It gave the street such a tidy, inviting appearance.

  I walked past the Sleigh Café and the grocery store where Jingle Bells Bakery was located. They sold some of the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever tasted. Realizing I was hungry, I should have eaten breakfast or at least grabbed a bagel or granola bar before I left for my jaunt.

  For a moment, I considered walking over to The Falls, a waterfall that was near the center of town, but instead wandered along the nearly empty streets.

  The fourth time my stomach growled, I changed direction and headed back toward my shop. I unlocked the door and barely stepped inside before Hemi zoomed up to me, as though I’d left him alone for months instead of less than an hour.

  “What has gotten into you lately?” I asked the cat as I picked him up and carried him with me to the apartment. I toasted an English muffin and topped it with cream cheese and chocolate spread before taking a bite. I eat healthy ninety-percent of the time, so occasional indulgences are acceptable. The other day, an individual-sized chocolate cake beckoned to me from the bakery. I bought it to enjoy with a pint of caramel cone ice cream, my favorite, after my microwavable turkey dinner.

  I made a cup of maple apple tea and sank onto the sofa. Hemi curled up beside me and went to sleep.