'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

Austin fell in step beside me, still quiet. He stayed on his side of the sidewalk, far enough away that there was no risk of touching but close enough he could shove me out of the way if I was in danger.

  The stubble on his jaw caught the morning sunlight. The air was dry and cold, giving his cheeks a pink flush. It was a bright and cheerful day, despite the freezing temperature. Fresh snow glittered under the cloudless blue sky, turning Quincy into a winter wonderland.

  I took in a long breath, blowing it out in a white stream of frozen air. A bell dinged as a woman stepped out of a shop ahead. I slowed and looked inside the front window decked out in Christmas bows and greenery. The scent of apples wafted from the door, mixing with the fresh mountain air.

  I veered to the door, knowing Austin would follow. It was a kitchen shop, its back wall lined with a row of glass containers filled with flavored oils and vinegars.

  “Good morning,” the clerk greeted, removing a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. “Happy Holidays.”

  “Happy Holidays.” I smiled, my eyes wide as I took it all in. This was certainly not the kind of store I’d expected to see in such a small town. Hand-carved cutting boards made an artful spread on a round table in the center of the small space. Along one wall, an array of hooks held different utensils and kitchen embellishments.

  I walked to a cutting board, my fingers running across the smooth wood grain. “This is beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” The woman came around the cashier’s counter. “Would you like some apple cider?”

  “Please.” I nodded, taking the cup from her when she brought it over. Austin—typical—shook his head and declined. I sipped the hot drink, the flavor bursting on my tongue. “This is delicious.”

  “My own recipe.” She smiled, tucking a lock of gray hair behind her ear. “Shopping for anything in particular today?”

  “Just browsing. We’re from out of town and exploring today.”

  “There are quite a few of us open,” she said. “Mostly for the, er, gentlemen around town doing some last-minute gift buying.”

  As if she’d conjured one from thin air, the bell on the door dinged and a man came inside with a wave. “Morning, Sandy. I’m in a bit of a rush. I, uh—”

  “Haven’t bought anything for your wife yet,” she finished. “Or your mother.”

  The man shrugged with a sheepish grin and Sandy went about pulling items from tables, getting his okay with each before ringing him up and fancying up two different gift bags.

  I lingered, sipping my cider and choosing three spatulas and one board to take home.

  Austin was standing stoically beside the door, his shoulders pinned, when his phone rang. He dug it from his pocket and looked at the screen, his frame relaxing at whatever he saw. I expected him to go outside, but he just put the phone to his ear. “Hi, Mom.”

  I tried not to eavesdrop on his quiet conversation as I perused, but it was hard not to catch his every word in a store this size.

  “Merry Christmas Eve,” he said. “I know. I’m sorry I’ll miss it too.”

  He was missing Christmas with his family because of me. My heart sank. Damn it. I’d been so worried about myself, I hadn’t thought of what this would do to him. Maybe I was as selfish as he’d proclaimed.

  “Okay, Mom. Enjoy. I’ll give you a call when I get home.” He paused. “Yeah. Dinner sounds great. Love you.”

  I’d stopped shopping when he ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket. I was staring.

  Austin’s gaze came to mine, holding it for just a moment before looking away. The cheese grater seemed to pull his focus.

  I sighed and went to the register, letting Sandy package my things now that the other man had his gifts and was headed out the door. When she had everything bagged, I thanked her again for the cider.

  Austin appeared at my side with a cutting board in his hand.

  “That’s nice,” I said.

  “Yeah.” He took out his credit card and paid before I waved goodbye and led the way outside.

  “Mind if we walk some more?” I asked, already knowing his answer. But I asked anyway. Because despite what he thought of me, I was considerate of his feelings. At least, normally.

  “Fine by me.” He shortened his strides and let me set the pace.

  “Who did you buy the cutting board for?” I asked as we walked down the block.

  “My mom.”

  “Why don’t you go home? Give it to her tomorrow.”

  “She works tomorrow. We celebrate Christmas Eve together.”

  “Austin.” I stopped, shaking my head. “Go home. Please. Be with your family.”

  “By the time I get there tonight, she’ll be asleep. She works early.”

  “Oh.”

  He waited for me to continue walking. He always did that. I wasn’t sure if that was part of the bodyguard handbook or if he was simply being respectful, but I liked that he always had my back.

  “What does your mom do?” I asked but didn’t expect an answer. Austin rarely spoke of himself or his personal life.

  “She’s a nurse. She likes to work on holidays because they pay her time and a half. And since my brother and I are grown, we don’t care if we celebrate on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day or whenever.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “And your father?”

  “He died.”

  “I’m sorry.” Way to be nosy, Cleo.

  “Don’t be. It was a long time ago when I was young. He was a fireman and was killed in the line of duty.”

  “I still shouldn’t pry. I’m—”

  “It’s okay, Cleo.”

  Cleo. How I loved my name in his voice when he wasn’t angry with me. It was like a deep, resonating note. Musical and sultry.

  We passed another open shop and the window display lured me inside. It was a jewelry store that specialized in silver. I found a beautiful cuff with an oval turquoise stone in the center. I bought it for Brynne, then a pair of silver earrings for myself. All the while, Austin stood by the exit, waiting for me to finish.

  Traffic on Main Street had picked up by the time we made it to the edge of downtown. The sun had warmed the road and as vehicles passed, their tires slushed through the snow.

  “I like Quincy,” I said as we crossed the street, strolling toward the hotel. “It’s charming.”

  “Their airport leaves a lot to be desired,” Austin grumbled.

  I laughed. “It is very tiny.”

  My flight here had required three stops. One from California to Salt Lake, then Salt Lake to Missoula. The last leg to Quincy had been on a propeller plane and I’d gripped my armrest the entire time. Thirty minutes had felt like three hours.

  I waved a hand toward The Eloise. “I like that the tallest building downtown is the hotel.”

  It stood proud as the focal point on the street, yet it was a pebble compared to the snow-covered mountains in the distance. On the wall that faced our way, a large wreath decorated the brick façade.

  Garlands draped over Main Street, glittering in the bright light. Each of the stores we’d passed had a festive window display. Even the offices that were closed seemed full of the holiday spirit.

  “This is how Christmas is supposed to be,” I said. “Festive but peaceful.”

  “Agreed.” Austin nodded.

  “That might be the first thing we’ve ever agreed on. And this is definitely the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “What about all the days I was at the bakery getting the security up to snuff?”

  “Talking about cameras and exit protocol is not a conversation.” I held up a hand before he could argue. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like me. I just hope that we can get along while we’re here.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like you, Cleo.”

  “Sure it is.” I shrugged, pretending like the truth didn’t hurt. “But I appreciate your dedication to my father and our family.
Especially when that means you have to put up with me.”

  “That’s not—” Austin raked a hand through his hair and hesitated. Maybe he wanted to lie, to tell me that I wasn’t a huge pain in his ass. But we both knew it would be a lie, so in predictable Austin form, he simply stayed quiet.

  “I think I’m going to head inside.” I pointed to the hotel. Despite my coat and the sunshine, the warmth from my cider had worn off and the cold had seeped into my bones.

  “I’m going to head to the gas station down the block. Buy a few toiletries. Are you going to be in the room?”

  “Actually, I’m going to hang out in the lobby. Maybe read on my phone by the fire.”

  “Please don’t run off. Text me if you change plans.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  “Then I’ll see you in a bit.” With a nod, he turned and strode down the street.

  Austin’s long legs ate up the sidewalk, and with his hands in his coat pockets, his shoulders looked broader than ever.

  Don’t look at his ass. I looked. How was I supposed to resist a quick peek? Ogling Austin’s perfectly sculpted behind was my Christmas Eve present to myself.

  Luckily, he didn’t notice. He was too busy putting half the town of Quincy between us.

  Ugh. This stupid crush. The sad part was, no matter how much he insulted me or how many times I was forced to throw something at his head, I didn’t want the crush to end. I hadn’t met a man worth taking Austin’s place in my fantasies. Even if he was sometimes a jerk and always a grouch, he was still the dream.

  With a sigh, I trudged inside. The hotel lobby was warm and inviting, but with every step, I felt more and more like I was in the wrong place. The right thing to do for Austin would be to pack my things and get him home for Christmas Eve.

  I walked to one of the couches, plopping down in front of the fireplace, and took the phone from my purse to search for flights. There was one. The last flight from Quincy to Los Angeles was scheduled to leave in ten minutes. We’d never make it.

  But what if we drove to a bigger town? I checked flight options from Missoula. The last left at eight this evening. It was a two-hour drive and the flight would get us home after midnight, but he’d be home for Christmas Day. If we left within the next hour, we could make it.

  I surged off the couch and gathered my things, jogging toward the elevator. It took forever for the car to return to the lobby. Hurry up. Hurry up. Finally, it chimed and I stepped inside, hitting the button for floor four. The doors had never closed slower. The ride up was agonizing.

  Squeezing through the doors, I raced for the room, fumbling with the key card to get inside. Then I dropped my purse and shopping haul, tearing off my coat as I sprinted for the closet and my empty suitcase. The drawers were empty in a flash. My toiletries were thrown into their travel bag. I was sitting on the case, sandwiching it closed to get the zipper shut, when the room door opened and Austin stepped inside, carrying a plastic sack.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Packing. If we leave now and drive to Missoula, we can get on the last flight—”

  “Cleo, no.”

  “What do you mean, no? We need to hurry.” I snapped my fingers and pointed to my suitcase. “Would you help me zip this, please?”

  Austin shook his head. “I’ve already booked my flight for the day after Christmas to match yours. We’re staying.”

  “But—”

  “We’re staying. It’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late.” My shoulders fell. “I don’t want you to have to stay here and spend Christmas with someone you don’t even like.”

  He tossed his plastic sack aside and crossed the room. “I like you.”

  Oh, how I wished that were true. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend.”

  “I like you, Cleo.” He stepped even closer, his hands coming to my shoulders.

  My heart stopped. Actually stopped. Austin didn’t touch me. Ever. Unless it was by mistake. But the weight of his wide hands and the warmth of his palms seeped through my sweater and into my skin.

  “We’ll stay.”

  I barely registered his words. He smelled so good, like spicy cologne and fresh air and a scent that was wholly Austin. Why did he have to smell so good? I resisted the urge to drop my nose into his chest and take a long pull. “Are you sure?”

  There I was, double-checking again.

  Austin didn’t answer.

  Except instead of annoyance on his face, he wore a different expression, one I couldn’t make sense of. His forehead was furrowed, almost like he was in pain. His lips were pursed in a thin line. But his eyes. They told a completely different story. They were intense and dark, the brown a deeper shade than normal and utterly mesmerizing.

  Maybe he didn’t like me.

  Or maybe . . .

  Before I could indulge in the fantasy that he might like me, just a little, Austin tore his hands away from my shoulders, turned to swipe up the plastic bag from the floor and strode into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and flipping the lock.

  Two seconds later, the sound of the shower’s spray drifted into the room.

  I flopped off my suitcase and onto the bed, groaning to the ceiling.

  Why couldn’t we be friends? Life would be easier if we were friends. Why couldn’t I get rid of this stupid crush?

  “I want to go home,” I grumbled. Montana had been a huge mistake.

  But I was here. Austin was resigned to the idea of staying and as every minute passed, our chances of getting home to LA by Christmas dwindled.

  It was time to make the best of an awkward situation. I shoved myself up off the bed and quickly unpacked my suitcase. Then as the shower turned off, I scribbled a note to Austin that I’d gone to the lobby. He was naked on the other side of the bathroom door. There was no way I’d be able to hide the blush in my cheeks when he came out.

  So I slipped from the room and went to the lobby. There was a new clerk at the desk when I approached. “Hello. I was just wondering if I could reserve a place in the dining room for dinner tonight.”

  “Of course.” The clerk smiled and took down my reservation.

  “Thanks.”

  If Christmas Eve was Austin’s time to celebrate, then I’d do my best to make this trip enjoyable. Starting with dinner.

  Chapter 7

  Austin

  “Hey,” I answered Channing’s call. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Just wanted to call and make sure you haven’t frozen your balls off yet.”

  I chuckled. “Not quite. Sorry I’m not there today.”

  Instead, I was back at the farm supply store with two long-sleeved thermals draped over one arm while I stared at the packages of boxer briefs and crew socks. I’d taken a shower but wearing yesterday’s clothes was getting old. I could survive in the same jeans for the rest of the trip, but I wasn’t going to wear the same damn underwear.

  I probably should have stopped at the store after my trip to the gas station for toiletries, but at this point, I didn’t mind making multiple trips. There wasn’t much else to do today.

  “I’ll make it up to you at New Year’s,” I told Channing.

  “It’s cool,” he said. “Mom and I are good. She’s cooking all my favorite stuff today because she feels guilty for not being home on Christmas.”

  That was how Mom was every year. She’d spend all of Christmas Eve in the kitchen, making more food than Channing and I could eat all week, let alone in one day, just so that on Christmas Day we weren’t fending for ourselves.

  Then she’d come home from her shift at the hospital and we’d eat leftovers. Mom didn’t make the traditional Christmas roast or ham or turkey. She went straight to our favorites: homemade lasagna and green chili enchiladas. They reheated well in the microwave too.

  “I wish I was there,” I said.

  “Gotta deal with the diva.”

  “She’s not a diva.” I frowned, grabbing a four-p
ack of boxers and a bundle of black socks.

  “Dude, any chicks that you have to protect are total divas.”

  “Not Cleo.”

  “Then why’d she take off to Montana for some bougie vacation?”

  “She just came to be alone.”

  “Diva.”

  “Would you stop calling her a diva?” I snapped. “She isn’t like that.”

  “Whoa. Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No, it’s not you.” I sighed. “I’m on edge.”

  Being on this trip, being this close to Cleo, was making me an exceptionally grumpy bastard.

  There was a clicking in the background, like Channing was pressing buttons. My guess was that while Mom was in the kitchen, he was playing video games. I’d never really been into the things myself, but on holidays like this, I’d make an exception and let him school me at a game.

  “Wish I was there,” I repeated. Though it was only partially the truth. Cleo was magnetic and enchanting. Time with her was never a waste, no matter how painful it was to maintain my restraints.

  “Yeah,” Channing said. “At least you don’t have to go to some rich-dude party.”

  “True.” The Hillcrests threw an outlandish Christmas Eve celebration and Ray liked to have security inside and outside the house. My team would be there tonight, like they were every year. My second-in-command, Blake, would be there himself and no matter what came up, he’d handle it.

  When I’d first started Garrison, I’d both managed the business and taken on client tasks. But as we’d grown, I’d cut my time with clients. I focused on risk assessments and pairing team members with jobs. I built relationships with my customers and trained my team, most of whom were ex-military, to our protocols.

  I trusted each and every one of them while they were in the field, so attending events and parties personally hadn’t been something I’d done for years.

  Especially when it came to the Hillcrests. It was too much to see Cleo decked out in a shimmering gown, the fabric skimming over her curves, and her smile bright—fake, but beautiful nonetheless.

  I passed a rack of sweatpants and swiped up a pair in light gray. They’d be better to sleep in tonight than my jeans when I camped out on the floor.