by Vivian Arend
“More things to burn. Sounds about right.” He swayed out of reach when she pretended to punch him. “You find anything else?”
“Mention of the song. Or the songbook it might come from. I swear it had the word yule in the title, but nothing came up when I googled it. I thought I might be able to ask around for help with that at the seniors lodge as well.”
It wasn’t your typical date destination, but over the years, Mack had spent a lot of time going to different places to meet with people. The Heart Falls Seniors Lodge was full of good, solid community members, and most of them loved to reminisce. “I’d like to come with you, but it’ll have to be tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can do that.” Brooke flipped to another page in the book and held it up triumphantly. “This I do remember, and we don’t need anybody to translate for us.”
He eyed the page. A motley collection of items was pictured. Everything from a misshapen sweater to a teddy bear with one leg longer than another and mismatched eyes. “You’re related to Tim Burton?”
A snort of laughter escaped her. “I don’t remember when it started, but even though I got presents from the store for my birthday and throughout the year, Christmas presents were always handmade.”
Another glance at the page and Mack saw wooden carved toys, knitted items. Paintings and other artistic endeavors. “Okay.”
Brooke was staring at the page now, a soft glow in her expression. “This is the one tradition Dad and I kind of kept up with. I don’t know that it’s ever been said that we don’t buy things for each other, but I usually make him a food basket—and no smart-ass comments about me burning things. He makes something in the shop or does something as simple as shining up my tools so I can start the new year with them good as new.”
A sweet, happy sensation slid in. “Then I guess I didn’t screw up too bad last year when I brought you that care package.”
“Hey. You’re right.” She leaned on her elbows, photo albums forgotten, all happiness and light, with her long hair sliding over her shoulders. “Definitely putting that on the list.”
“Care packages?”
“Homemade gifts,” she corrected. “I’m not going to tell you what I’m making you, but if you’re interested in giving me anything, that’s now officially the rule.”
Mack thought about the ring box now wearing a hole in his pocket. “So…just checking. Homemade is just for Christmas presents?”
She nodded decisively then dropped her eyelids to half-mast. “Because sexy lingerie is beyond both of our sewing abilities.”
He laughed loud enough to catch Tansy’s attention behind the counter. He pulled Brooke toward him and spoke softly. “That was wrong on so many levels. Number one, you have no idea what my sewing abilities are, and number two, dear God, I don’t know why you’d be sewing anything like that for me.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss. A display of affection appropriate for a public place but hot enough to set a fire burning inside him.
Plus, he carried the warm glow in his heart out of the coffee shop and into the snowy December day.
3
Brooke put her tools away after the final tune-up of the day, cleaning her hands on a rag as she marched to where her father was poking around under his classic cruiser.
She bent over to make sure she wasn’t about to startle him, and when he met her gaze, she offered a wink. “I’m done with the job on the Grahams’ Chevy. I’m going to wash up quick then head out if you don’t have anything you need me to do.”
Her dad went thoughtful for a moment then shook his head. “I can tell it’s the slow season. Barely Friday afternoon and we’re already done? Don’t go overboard with Christmas presents—we’re going to have to keep the expenses down until we can convince everybody it’s time for a tune-up for the new year.”
“We have enough steady customers. We’ll be fine,” Brooke reassured him. She deliberately ignored his comment about the Christmas presents because she didn’t want him even thinking about what might be happening.
She was still figuring out what she wanted to do for her homemade contribution to the celebration. This afternoon was about finding out more details. She and Mack had made an appointment to stop in at the home where Grandpa and Gram had lived until a few years ago.
“You’ll be home for supper?” her dad asked.
“Maybe? I’m not sure what time Mack and I will be done. I don’t know if he has any other plans. I might end up bringing him home with me.”
Her father made a noise, but he was rolling back underneath the chassis and it was impossible to see his face.
The entire trip over to the lodge she worried at the idea that had been nagging her. It wasn’t as if her dad had ever come out and said he didn’t like Mack, but there were an awful lot of negative-sounding grunts and nonverbal communication that came up whenever she mentioned him.
As if her father was desperately trying to pretend that Mack didn’t exist, which was just stupid. Her boyfriend was an upright, decent guy who didn’t step on people’s toes or do a lot of chest pounding. She certainly could’ve fared worse.
And as Mack uncurled himself from behind the seat of his truck and stepped toward her vehicle, Brooke eyed him up and down and considered she would’ve had to win the jackpot to have fared better.
Damn, the man was a looker. Dark hair, broad shoulders. A hint of five o’clock shadow dusted his chin and cheeks, and the sensual curve to his strong mouth promised mischief.
He pulled open her door. “Valet service.”
“Yeah, right. You just want to drive my truck.”
His gaze fell to her lips. He stepped in close enough to twist her toward him then slid her hips to the front of the seat. The move put her legs on either side of his body, and as their torsos touched, a soft moan escaped his lips. “There’s a hell of a lot of things I want to drive, and your truck would only be one of them.”
A shiver went up her spine. “No fair getting my motor going. You’ve got volunteer firefighters on rotation at the hall tonight, don’t you?”
Mack eased closer, sliding his cheek against hers and breathing deeply as if soaking in her scent. He pressed his lips to her neck, kissing up to the sweet spot behind her ear and making her shiver again. “We can find a place to be alone, but first we have an appointment with a very nice couple who are eager to say hello.”
She cupped his face in her hands, twisting until she could kiss him properly. Mouth-to-mouth, torsos in contact.
Mack took control, still gentle but definitely in charge as he nibbled on her bottom lip. His hands gripped her tightly, thumbs rubbing back and forth along the waistline of her jeans, and Brooke once again considered the folly of being nearly thirty and living in far too close proximity to her father.
Not that it had stopped them completely. Mack was far too sexy to resist, and considering she was an adult, she had every right to bring home whomever she wanted.
Until this past year, she had rarely bothered.
God, his mouth was driving her wild. He stood there stoking her libido to high, as if they didn’t have anywhere else to be, in spite of his earlier comment. It was as if he was trying to torment her and himself at the same time, because when they finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, his moan of frustration reverberated all the way to her toes.
“This is killing me,” he muttered before stepping back. Holding out a hand to guide her down from the bench seat. “Okay. Operation Old-Fashioned begins in earnest. Let’s get going before I do something that gets us arrested.”
Brooke slipped her fingers into his. His hand curled around hers, big and protective. Cold wind moved against them from the north, but the sky was robin-egg blue, and the sun sparkled on the snow like a million fairies were dancing against the field of white. A magical path to walk en route to the double front doors of the seniors lodge.
“I haven’t been here for a long time,” she admitted guiltily.
>
“Your grandparents died a while ago, didn’t they?”
“Two years ago for Grandpa. About four for my Gram.” They were approaching the front stairs, the sidewalks completely clear of snow and ice. “We used to visit on a regular basis, but once they were gone, it was a lot harder to keep coming.”
Even though there were people here who had been important in her grandparents’ lives, the connections had grown fainter.
She and Mack went through the door and into the warmth. Before she could head to the check-in desk, he tugged her to the side of the hall. Strong fingers lifted her face to his, his gaze examining her.
He spoke softly, affection in his tone. “You don’t need to feel as if you’ve done something wrong. You’re a kind, loving individual, and while you might not have been here doing that caring, trust me; you have a lot of friends who would tell you thanks for all you’ve done in their lives.”
He was right, but it still felt strange to be coming back into this familiar place after having been gone for so long.
“Thanks.” She lifted up on her toes quickly and kissed him before guiding him to reception.
There was no one behind the desk, but as Brooke reached for the buzzer, someone stepped out of the resource room.
The woman moved forward briskly, patting her dark hair into place. Her eyes snapped with intelligence and a ready smile curled her lips. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Brooke Silver. My grandparents used to live here.” Brooke glanced down the hallway as the sound of laughter rang in the distance. “I called earlier this week to see if there was anyone who knew them still in residence. I also have a recipe I hope someone can take a peek at and give me a translation.”
The woman nodded. “I heard you would be stopping in. Come on, I’ll take you to the common room. I think everybody you need to talk to is there right now anyway. It’s tea and cookies time.”
“I haven’t seen you before. Are you new on staff?” Mack’s fingers were still tangled with Brooke’s as they headed down the pristine white linoleum.
The woman shook her head. “Volunteer. My grandparents live in the home. I’ve just moved into the community. Name’s Yvette.”
“Mack Klassen.” He offered a hand. “Local firefighter.”
Yvette shook his hand and then Brooke’s as she offered her response. “Veterinarian.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about you,” Brooke said eagerly. “You’re joining Josiah Ryder at his clinic.”
“It’s a great job, and he’s a great boss. So far,” she said jokingly. “What’s your brand of mischief?”
“Mechanic.”
Yvette nodded briskly. “Perfect. I need to get your number before you leave because my car got me here, but it’s living on a prayer.”
The main room of the lodge was full of small round tables with comfortable chairs around them. Half the tables had two or three people sitting at each of them, cups of hot liquid in front of the occupants and plates of icebox cookies and date squares set smack-dab in the middle for sharing.
Yvette crooked a finger and led them to one side. “There’s someone here who wanted to speak with you.”
Inside her heart, a pulse of happiness flared as Brooke glanced over to discover two familiar faces. Their hair was a little more silver, or maybe there was a little less of it, but the smiles were the same as all the times when she’d stopped in to visit with her grandparents. “Mr. and Mrs. Wright. How wonderful to see you both.”
Geraldine Wright made a soft little noise that was probably as much of a squeal of delight as she would allow. “Sweet little Brooke. Come. Tell us everything you’ve been doing. And you know you’re old enough to call us by our first names.”
Her husband, Floyd, pushed back his wheelchair and held out a hand to Mack. “Who’s this fine gentleman?”
“You know Mack,” Geraldine said with a laugh. “It’s okay if you don’t remember, Floyd, but that’s the nice fireman who comes in to do our fire drills.”
Mack had taken Floyd by the hand and was shaking it briskly. “You’re looking good today, sir. Have you had a chance to grab a cup of coffee and a cookie yet?”
Floyd looked confused for a moment but then smiled. “A cookie sounds like a great idea. Especially if they have chocolate in them.”
There was a soft touch on her shoulder, and Brooke turned to discover Yvette watching her carefully. “It seems my grandparents know you.”
“Geraldine and Floyd are your grandparents?” Brooke glanced back at the couple who were chatting with Mack as if the three of them were bosom buddies. She glanced at the other woman. “They were my grandparents’ best friends. Since my grandpa died, I haven’t been visiting the home as often.”
The other woman tipped her chin slowly. “I’ve lived in Saskatchewan for most of my life, so I’m basically just getting to know them. Do you mind if I stick around while you talk?”
“Not at all.” Brooke had to look away, a rush of emotions hitting her. “I came looking for some information to organize something special for Christmas. I didn’t realize how many memories it was going to bring back.”
“Memories are a good thing. I need to make more of them.” Yvette lowered her voice. “My parents were estranged from Mormor and Morfar. I’m choosing to remake the connection while there’s still time.”
It was kind of like hitting Brooke over the head with an oversized branch. “Yeah. I’m sort of in the same place.” She smiled as best she could then gestured to the table. “Let’s grab a couple more chairs. I’d love for you to join us, and I definitely need to get your number before I leave.”
Over the years, Mack had lived in many places and seen many things. As a military brat, he’d been hauled back and forth across the country. As a soldier, he’d travelled overseas for active duty. Through it all, he had learned a few hard truths, but the one hitting him square between the eyes today made him smile.
Men of a certain age had a universal ability to make him square his shoulders and mind his p’s and q’s.
Even as he was aware of Brooke and the conversation she was having with the veterinarian, Mack kept his gaze fixed on Floyd Wright. The old man offered a rambling story that stalled midsentence when he decided the cookie plate needed his attention.
Geraldine leaned forward on the other side, her nose wrinkling as she smiled at Mack. “It’s good of you to stop in. You won’t be setting off the fire alarms today, though, will you?”
Mack shook his head. “No, ma’am. Once-a-month drills only, and I was here last week.”
“That’s good,” she said, pointing a finger out at the wintry day. “I know it’s sunny, and I wouldn’t want to give up my Alberta blue skies, but it’s colder than a witch’s tit right now.”
He kept his expression as blank as possible, immensely amused at the same time.
Brooke slid another chair to the table, and she and Yvette joined them.
“You know the Wrights?” he asked Brooke.
She nodded then tilted her head toward Yvette. “It seems we’ve got that six-degrees-of-separation thing happening. Geraldine and Floyd were a couple of my grandparents’ best friends, and Yvette is their granddaughter.”
“Small towns. It’s always exciting to discover what kind of tangled relations unfold.” He spoke to Yvette. “I help run regular fire drills here at the lodge and chip in on other community events. Your grandparents are always the life of the party.”
“I just don’t dance as well as I used to,” Floyd announced, leaning toward Brooke and patting his wheelchair. His eyes twinkled. “Not very light on my feet.”
The next few minutes were filled with talk about everything from dances to the expected arrival of wild winter weather to a full-on conversation about what was going to be served for supper at the lodge.
Mack joined in on occasion, but mostly he watched as the two women bantered with the older couple, all of them working in unison when Floyd forgot what they were discussing. None of them ma
de a fuss over it, just slid on to the next topic.
Then Brooke brought out the photo album.
Geraldine clasped her hands together and her eyes lit up with delight as they began flipping through pages. “I don’t know all these people, but my goodness, Sharon was a looker.”
Brooke caught Mack’s eye and mouthed the words my grandmother.
Mack was in the middle of nodding in acknowledgement when a strange sensation washed over him, and he leaned back in his chair and tried to figure out what it was.
Couldn’t be discomfort from visiting the lodge. Heck, he’d talked to this very couple before, but there was something in this moment that seemed as if he’d opened up a window and was looking out for the first time.
Yvette was earnest and interested, leaning in to listen carefully when her grandparents spoke. Brooke laughed in response to something, her hand resting on his thigh as if them being there together was an ordinary, everyday thing.
It was.
And it wasn’t.
An uneasy sensation tickled his gut, but he pushed it away and focused on what was going on now because this was important. “You have a chance to ask them anything about your holiday plans?” he encouraged Brooke.
She straightened, turning to a different section in the photo album and offering Geraldine a wink. “How’s your Swedish?”
The old woman laughed louder than seemed appropriate considering the question. Then a stream of what obviously was not English poured from her lips, melodious and sharp.
Brooke smiled. “Well, that answers the question. Can you still read it?”
Geraldine sniffed. “My goodness. Of course I can still read it.” She tapped her chest, then her lap and the top of her head before turning to Yvette sheepishly. “Perhaps I could read it better if I had my glasses. I think I left them in our room.”
Yvette rose to her feet. “I’ll grab them for you, Mormor.”
