“Daddy!” Chloe exclaimed. “Santa brought me my daddy for Christmas.”
She jumped off her chair and ran over to Aidan, hugging his thigh.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
On Christmas Eve, Aidan had been released from the hospital to a rehabilitation center. His doctor had agreed that Aidan was improving enough that he could have a short leave to enjoy Christmas dinner with his daughter, Daniel and the Boudreau-Clark family. He was in good spirits and with Kate’s help, he was able to eat most of the offerings on the table. He held his little girl’s hand through the entire meal.
After the table was cleared, and everyone was debating how long it would be before they had room for dessert, Daniel pulled Elle out onto the veranda where they could be alone.
“Santa has one last gift and it’s for you,” he said.
“Daniel, what is this? We’ve already exchanged gifts.”
“This one is special.” He smiled at her as he gathered his words. “I know I already proposed—rather badly, actually. And then you proposed, in great style. But there’s still something missing.”
He pulled out a small blue box from his jacket pocket.
“I feared that it might not be officially official until I put a ring on it.”
He opened the box and Elle gasped.
“If you’ll let me have a do-over, I’d like to do this right.”
Daniel dropped down on one knee and took her hand in his.
“Elle Clark, from the moment I saw you in that library I knew we were destined to be together. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and be my wife?”
“Yes! I can’t think of anything that would make me happier. The ring is beautiful.”
He slid the traditional two-carat round solitaire onto her delicate finger. Then they sealed the proposal with a kiss to end all kisses.
When they went back into the dining room, the family congratulated them with a champagne toast.
“To the happy couple,” the family said in unison.
“This is the best Christmas ever,” said Chloe. “Not only did I get my daddy back for Christmas, I got an aunt. Aunt Elle.”
* * *
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Holiday by Candlelight
by Laurel Greer
Chapter One
Caleb Matsuda wiped his boots on the mat inside the door of the coffee shop and held back a self-directed scowl. One of these days, he’d walk in here and feel like a local instead of a tourist. He’d better, given how much he’d sunk into his new partnership at the Sutter Creek Medical Clinic—how much he counted on this town helping him heal.
Today’s meeting will be another step toward fitting in.
Healing, well, that’d take a bit more than planning a holiday party.
Fixing a smile on his face, he brushed snow off his wool coat and wiped melted flakes from the lenses of his glasses with his gloved thumb. He scanned the cozy tables for Garnet James’s habitual cloud of curly auburn hair, but the only flashes of red came from the shop’s holly-and-tinsel Christmas garland.
Maybe she had a punctuality problem to go along with her free-spirited reputation. He’d met her a few times since moving to Montana, not many. Adjusting to being a family physician instead of a surgeon took most of his emotional energy. He hadn’t made enough strides to build his social network yet. Garnet had always been congenial, though. She was in tight with his two closest friends in town—fine, his only two friends—who swore she was the friendliest person on the ski patrol.
Hopefully that was the truth, considering Caleb had volunteered to work side by side with her for the next couple of weeks. The medical clinic and the holistic health center where Garnet worked part-time were planning a joint holiday party, a celebration of the ongoing close relationship between the two facilities’ staffs. But according to Garnet’s panicked email, some sort of glitch meant they suddenly didn’t have a venue. She and Caleb had been tasked with finding a replacement. Surely her concern was misplaced. Couldn’t be that hard to find a replacement in a sleepy mountain town.
Jamming his gloves and knit cap in his pocket, he made his way over to the short lineup and perused his options from the chalkboard behind the elf-hatted barista.
An elbow nudged him. “Still enough of a newbie that you need to read the menu?”
He straightened and turned toward the source of the lightly teasing voice. Yep, just as he’d remembered. Gray eyes like a summer storm. Vibrant hair tucked under an oversized, hand-knit hat. A wide smile and a handful of freckles took her from model pretty to interesting. A couple years ago, he’d have dived in headfirst—the outdoor-healthy vibe she had going on used to be exactly what he looked for in a woman. A guy could get addicted to her wide, generous smile.
She was damned easy to look at.
But her ski-addict lifestyle was hard for Caleb to even think about.
“Me and the flatlanders,” he volleyed back, feeling his smile stiffen at the words. Hopefully no one could see he was carrying around enough baggage to stop a 747 from getting airborne.
Her brows drew together under her turquoise beanie. “I thought you were from Colorado.”
A lump clogged his throat. Denver just represented loss to him now.
She cocked her head and a loose curl fell across her cheek. “You okay?”
Coughing to get rid of the memories blocking his airway, he said, “I’m from Brooklyn, originally.”
“Yeah, I can see New York on you.” Her eyes danced as she gave him an exaggerated once-over. “Fancy duds, Matsuda.”
His cheeks heated and he shrugged. Maybe he needed to temper his need to look nice with Sorel boots and layers of Gore-Tex in an attempt to blend in with the locals. “It’s my lunch break. I dress up for work.”
A hint of heat flickered in her eyes. Did she appreciate the effort? It’d been a while since a woman had looked at him with interest, or at least since he’d noticed it—
And there was no point in figuring out the meaning of the sparkle in her gaze. Nothing about Garnet James was good for him. They had zilch in common. Despite his choice to keep living in the mountains—a failed attempt at exposure therapy after the accident—he had no plans to set foot on the slopes again in this lifetime.
She clapped her hands, her mittens muting the noise. “Speaking of work, we have our fair share to do. We should order. I worked here part-time until I started at the wellness center in September. I can vouch for the eggnog latte and the cheese scones. And the vegetarian croissant is amazing.”
Once they had coffees and sandwiches in hand—well, sort of in his case, since the lack of mobility in his right hand meant he had to awkwardly prop his plate between his palm and his stomach—he motioned her ahead. Most of the tables were lunch-rush full, but she had a couple to pick from. “Lead the way. Do you have a regular spot?”
Gray irises sparkled silver. “I live to be spontaneous.”
&n
bsp; His earlier nervous stomach returned. Spontaneity wasn’t for him anymore. Being an adrenaline junkie had cost him his surgical career.
Damned useless.
He stopped the thought. Not useless, just different. Still valuable.
And planning this party would help him make some connections. Feel part of something productive, less of an outsider at work and in the small town he was trying to make his home.
He followed her to a four-seater, put his plate down with as much grace as he could manage, then flexed his hand. Garnet’s gaze landed on his stiff, scarred fingers, but her wince held no pity, no hint of condolence. Just a pure empathy that he probably should have expected from someone who worked in both emergency services and holistic healing.
Her smile... Man, it warmed an inner part of him. One that had been mighty chilly since his ex-girlfriend had broken up with him—as soon as enough time had passed following the avalanche that leaving him no longer seemed tacky. Something uncomfortable shifted in his chest. Something he’d label attraction if he didn’t know better.
Uh, no way. Shrugging out of his coat, he took a seat.
“I’m so sorry for the venue problem. Everyone at Evolve is,” she said, naming the wellness center. She scrunched up her face. “I know it was on us to organize that, but the person who volunteered got a job in Jackson Hole. Left us high and dry for reflexology and party planning. And when I realized she hadn’t even called around to book a place...” She cupped her drink with both hands and took a sip. “Well, needless to say, we’re kind of up a creek.”
His mouth twitched. “Time to put on our life jackets?”
“Might not be quite that dire, but close.”
“Should we cancel?”
Garnet’s face fell. “Oh, we can’t... I want to introduce a new tradition. Hopefully amplify the camaraderie between Evolve and your clinic, work together where we can.”
His gaze wandered to the fake snow sprayed along the edges of the leaded window panes that ran the length of the wall. Similar to the presents and snowmen painted on the windows of the clinic, and the glittery swag hanging behind the receptionist’s desk... “Yeah, you’re right. My coworkers will be pissed if they don’t get a Christmas party.”
The last thing he wanted was to be the new guy and the person who cheated them out of their holiday festivities.
“Do you want it to be more of a generic winter theme?” she asked cautiously. “Zach mentioned you were Jewish.”
He lifted a shoulder. “When in Rome. Or small-town Montana, rather. I figured volunteering for this would help me get to know Sutter Creek better. And if we plan a potluck, I bring sufganiyot. Jelly donuts.”
She shook her head. “I would lie down in the street for donuts, especially homemade, but we are not going the DIY route.”
“I didn’t realize it would be so involved. I figured we’d book out the pool table section of the hotel lounge and be done with it,” he said.
Her mouth tugged to the side for a second, then relaxed, as if she’d gone to bite her lip and then ordered herself not to. “I can take the lead and delegate specific things. Classy things,” she repeated.
“Fill me in, then.”
“I have a list. Aside from a venue, we need to arrange catering, decorations, entertainment...”
All things for which he had no frame of reference in his new hometown. Google was clearly going to become his friend.
“First, we need to hammer down a location,” she said. “And the only place I could find that has space in two weeks is the Peak Lounge up the mountain.”
He swore the instrumental version of “Silent Night” playing over the speakers overhead made a needle-on-a-record screeching stop.
Up the mountain? The back of his neck prickled, and he breathed through his nose to regain his calm. Oh, man. Could he get away with sneaking out for fresh air before the ambient restaurant noise started to sound like the crack and rumble of snow sliding down a hill?
Garnet’s lips moved—saying his name, maybe? After a few seconds, soft music filtered back into his buzzing ears. He rubbed a hand down his face, hoping to get blood flowing back into his cheeks.
“The view is incredible,” she said. “And we’ll be able to have a dance floor.”
“There have to be other options,” he murmured.
“Not that I know of.”
He couldn’t stop his cheek from flinching. “We should at least call around.”
“I did call. I have a list and everything.” Sighing loudly, she took a notebook from her purse. With a shove, she slid it toward him. It knocked into his coffee, tipping the to-go cup onto the pad. Dark liquid poured out the peel-back spout of the lid. Righting the cup, he stood quickly to avoid getting a lap full of scorching coffee.
“Oh, no!” Garnet grabbed a stack of napkins and dabbed at the spill, smearing the ink on the page. “Did it get on you? I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another one.”
“Don’t worry about it.” After sitting back down, he took his own napkin and wiped the table, adding to the sodden napkins she’d piled in the middle of the table. “Probably better if I avoid the caffeine. Might need a new copy of your notes, though.”
They both reached for the damp notebook at the same time, hands colliding. Instinctively, he covered hers with his uninjured fingers.
Her gaze snapped to his, wide with surprise. With something else, too, something warm, magnetic.
Heat flooded his veins. Her skin, soft and warm and contrasting with the strong tendons underneath—the mark of a woman who worked with her hands—pulled him in.
He couldn’t let go for the life of him.
She didn’t seem to have the same problem, slipping her hand from under his. “We don’t have time to wait to book. We’re lucky anywhere had room on a Friday in December.”
He let out a slow breath. He wasn’t being purposefully difficult. Hell, two Decembers ago he’d have been the one pushing for a party up a mountain. But if this one was held anywhere in the vicinity of a building with the moniker “Peak,” he wouldn’t be able to attend. Less than helpful for one of the planners.
“You’re sure the lounge at the Sutter Mountain Hotel doesn’t have room? I, uh, don’t know anywhere else suitable,” he said, earning a raised brow. But any topic was preferable to dwelling on his inability to climb on a chairlift. Even admitting that he barely knew where to buy groceries here, let alone where to host a get-together for fifty-odd people. “And you called every restaurant in town? And the smaller hotels? If there’s anywhere you missed, I’ll phone around after my last appointment.”
“I’ve done that already.” Her teeth latched onto the edge of her petal-pink lower lip. “Not going to lie, my heart’s set on the Peak Lounge. The ceilings are killer, and the price is right. My bosses have a bit of an in.” Her mouth quirked.
“Couldn’t those same bosses get us an in at the Loose Moose?” he said, throwing out the name of the local bar also owned by the Dawson family’s company. AlpinePeaks had a laundry list of businesses to its name, from Evolve Wellness and a handful of eating establishments to the entirety of Sutter Mountain Resort. Not to mention, Caleb could credit the Dawsons—well, Lauren, at least—for his position at the clinic.
He’d been drowning in Denver, working as an ER physician in the hospital where, prior to the avalanche, he’d made his name as a trauma surgeon. He’d come home from a twenty-one-hour shift, sick to death of people sending sad, fleeting looks at his injured hand. His call to his buddy, Zach, Sutter Mountain’s ski patrol director, had been intended as a stress release. But Zach had mentioned his soon-to-be sister-in-law was bailing as clinic partner and they needed someone to fill the position, stat. Caleb had called the managing partner before changing, showering, napping, anything.
Four months later and the job still seemed like a lifeline. But he wouldn’t trul
y settle in until he could claim resident status. Which he wouldn’t earn if his issues hampered his coworkers’ traditions.
He ran his fingers through his hair, racking his brain for an impersonal reason not to have the party up the mountain. “People aren’t going to want to schlep up two chairlifts in their holiday finery.”
“There’s a gondola, silly.”
Gondola, chairlift... Didn’t make a difference for him. “Still a lot of effort.”
“But the Moose?” She blinked at him, a slow sweep of long black lashes that fanned out over—
Wait, what? Whoa, Matsuda, stay on topic. “My knowledge of appropriate places is minimal. I know next to nothing about the town...”
Her eyes lit. “Tell you what—we can make a trade. I’ll book the Peak Lounge, and in exchange, I’ll take you around, show you some of Sutter Creek’s highlights. God, in December? You’re in full-fledged small town–charm season.”
He couldn’t do more than scowl to cover up the bolt of fear that zigzagged through his body. Getting a tour around town sounded great, but her proposed cost? Way too high. He shook his head.
“Work with me here,” she cajoled.
Damn. Was he going to have to admit how he felt about heights? Sweat dampened his forehead and he tried to subtly wipe it away with the back of his hand. “Garnet, I—I can’t.”
Copyright © 2019 by Lindsay Macgowan
ISBN-13: 9781488042355
A Down-Home Savannah Christmas
Copyright © 2019 by Nancy Robards Thompson
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
A Down-Home Savannah Christmas Page 18
