One Hundred Christmas Kisses (An Aspen Cove Romance Book 6)

by Kelly Collins

  Trig took a bite of his pancakes and moaned. He forked a bite and offered it to Charlie.

  “I’ve got my own,” she said.

  He touched the syrupy bite to her lips. “Let me feed your hunger. Let me satisfy your needs.”

  She melted into the booth. “I’m counting on you to do both. Up for the task?”

  He took her hand and laid it on his lap. Beneath her fingers she felt just how up he was.

  They finished their breakfasts. Charlie got out of the car at the bed and breakfast with a promise to watch Clovis. Trig pulled away, and all she could think about was how long the next twenty-fours hours would be.

  Charlie climbed into her Jeep and drove straight for the cemetery. She walked through the snow to her mother’s granite tombstone and kneeled before the carved heart. There were five words she had to say. She traced over her mother’s name and said, “I love you.” She kissed her fingers and touched the cold headstone. “I’m sorry.”

  There were no more tears to spill. She’d cried a river over the loss of her mother. Tears her mother would have hated because all Phyllis Parker wanted was for her daughter to live, love, and laugh.

  While she stood there, the clouds parted and the sun warmed her cheeks for a mere minute, and somehow, it felt like it was a message from her mother to her that all that was broken would mend.

  Charlie left the cemetery feeling free. If her mother had been alive, she would have told her to live each day to the fullest. A full life didn’t mean to stay in a job with a pervy boss or beat herself up for past mistakes. Charlie had a future and, while she didn’t know what that future would look like, she had a feeling that for now, it would include Trig.

  Chapter Eleven

  “How far out are we heading?” Trig adjusted his backpack and followed Bowie across the frozen lake. The sun had peeked through the clouds briefly before the storm ate up any warmth it could provide. He was already cold and halfway miserable.

  He hadn’t carried a rucksack in two years, but the weight felt good on his back. His leg, on the other hand, screamed with every step he took.

  “Just to the cove.” Bowie pointed to the frozen waterfall. “It’s quiet there and the fishing is pretty decent.”

  Trig pushed through the pain of his prosthesis rubbing against the abraded skin. It served him right for walking into Charlie’s room in the dark. He also knew better than to wear his old equipment, but bad habits died hard.

  He thought about Charlie on the way to the cove. He’d kissed plenty of women in his day. Less so in the last two years and maybe that’s what made her kiss so much more. He could still feel her lips against his. Still taste the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. He loved the way her hands went straight to his chest and then to his hair.

  He glanced over his shoulder to where the lights along the shore flickered in the distance. Sage had strung a row of Christmas lights across the deck railing. It helped to distinguish the bed and breakfast from the rest of the houses. Bowie’s place was lit up like he was trying to single-handedly finance the electric company.

  “I bet they can see your house from space,” Trig said.

  “It’s Sahara’s first Christmas. I wanted it to be special.”

  Cannon stopped in the alcove and spread a tarp on the ice in front of them before he started to unfold the four-man tent. “She’s still a baby. Do you think she notices?”

  Bowie frowned. “Of course. You should see her eyes light up when we take her outside.”

  While they set up camp, Trig made quick work of drilling through the ice and sawing a hole the size of a frying pan. If they were lucky that’s exactly what they’d be doing for dinner—cooking lake trout on an open fire was the plan.

  For the next hour, they dropped their lines into the freezing depths and waited. The wind whipped around them and the sleet fell like razors from the sky.

  Trig couldn’t get comfortable. He knew things were going downhill fast when he started sweating and got chills, but he ignored the signs. This was his first real guys’ night out since the accident. There was no way he was going back to shore.

  “So…” Bowie said. “When did you get your medical license?” He stared straight at Trig.

  Trig knew he’d only had a single beer so there no way he could be drunk. “What are you talking about?”

  “My wife said she watched you give Charlie Parker a tonsillectomy today in the bakery.”

  “Your wife shouldn’t gossip.”

  “Small town. News travels fast. I’d be surprised if Doc Parker wasn’t waiting on the shore with his shotgun when you got back,” Cannon added.

  “Seriously?” He flipped his collar so it came high up on his neck then he wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s like living in a fishbowl here.” Trig sucked in his cheeks and moved his lips like he was a trout.

  “Yep,” Bowie said, “but it’s the kind of fishbowl where everyone around here feeds you and cleans your water.”

  “Fair enough. Charlie and I kind of hit it off. She’s a good woman, and I like her.”

  The brothers smiled. “As in like her enough to pursue something?”

  Trig rubbed his leg and sat back in one of the chairs Bowie had brought. “I’m keeping my options open.” Just then, his line twitched and Trig stood to give it a yank, but the pain in his leg had him falling to the ice and his pole slipped from his hands. Whatever he caught wasn’t happy and took off like it was on fire. Even though the Bishop brothers dove for the pole, they couldn’t get to it before it disappeared under the ice.

  “Some outdoorsmen you are,” Bowie teased. “How in the hell am I supposed to feel comfortable offering you a partnership if you can’t hold your liquor or your pole?”

  Trig wrestled himself up from the cold, hard surface and stood above the hole in the ice. “I’m off my game.” He plopped down in the chair and pulled his trouser leg up to look at the scrape on his leg. “I have a little sore spot.” That was an understatement, but he didn’t want to worry his friends. How was he supposed to be treated like a normal guy when he pointed out his differences?

  He reached for his backpack and took out the salve he had. He also took three ibuprofens and opened another beer.

  “You okay?” Bowie stood above him, looking at the tender red area.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s a little cut.” He held up the tube of antibiotic ointment. “This will take care of it.” The fact that it had in the past made Trig worry less, although, he’d never had an irritation turn this nasty. “Tell me about this partnership.”

  Cannon, who had already given him a heads’ up, lit a Sterno can and pulled out the dogs and buns. In the distance, Trig could see tiny fires like theirs dotting the surface of the frozen lake. At least they weren’t the only idiots sitting out in a winter ice storm bonding.

  “I’d like to expand the bait and tackle shop to include winter sports like snowshoeing and cross-country skiing, sledding, and snowmobiling. That kind of stuff. In the summer we can offer rowboats and jet skis. There’s an outfit across the lake, but the owner is an asshole.”

  Cannon broke in. “He’s an asshole because he tried to hit on Katie early on in their dating.”

  Bowie chuckled. “There is that, but in all fairness, we weren’t actually dating. Hell, we were practically married before we started dating. Sometimes you just know.”

  “You knew right away?” The subject of insta-love fascinated Trig. He’d never considered Bowie the type. He had always been a hard, gruff man, and yet the guy sitting in front of him had softened. Trig saw the way Bowie looked at his wife and daughter. Would he ever be able to have that?

  Bowie pulled in his line and saw the hook was empty, so he baited it up and tossed it back into the slushy water. “My heart knew, but my head was firmly set on staying single. Love is risky and can be painful.”

  “But is it worth it?” Trig asked.

  In the dark, Bowie’s smile was like a beacon of light. “Have you seen my daughter? My
wife? Need I say more?”

  In the distance, a shadow moved toward them. It got bigger as it got closer until a large man stood in front of them carrying a foil-covered tray.

  “Did someone order pot roast and potatoes?”

  While he hadn’t met Dalton Black yet, he’d heard enough about him to know that the big guy standing in front of them was Aspen Cove’s resident chef. Another clue could have been the steam escaping the foil or the rich smell of garlic and brown gravy.

  “We were just getting ready to eat dogs.”

  Dalton looked down at his hands. “I can leave if you’d rather eat almost-cooked wieners and ice cold buns.”

  “Screw that.” Trig hopped up and offered his seat to Dalton.

  Dalton turned around to show the portable chair strapped to his back. “I came prepared.”

  “You staying the night?” Cannon asked as he took the pan from Dalton’s hands and peeled off the foil to unveil pot roast, potatoes, and carrots smothered in thick gravy.

  Dalton shook his head slowly. “Learned my lesson last time. Happy to dine with friends, but I’m crawling between the sheets with my woman.”

  They all stared back at the shore and sighed.

  “Wimp,” Bowie said. “This is a bonding experience. Real he-man shit. You’ve gotten soft on the love songs Samantha sings you.”

  Dalton laughed. “Dude, when she sings, I can guarantee you I’m never soft.”

  Cannon handed out the paper plates he had tucked inside his backpack. They all dug in. “This is Trig, by the way. Bowie was just negotiating a partnership of sorts.”

  Dalton nodded his head. “I think expanding is important.”

  They talked about the culinary school and how most of his business came from the ready-made meals he sold at the end of class. “The fire department can keep me in business all on their own.”

  Trig sat back and listened to the men talk about how the town had grown over the last year. He envied the way they all seemed to belong to something or someone. He wanted that for himself. He wanted to be a part of something more than him and the sum of his parts.

  That’s what he’d loved about the military. The camaraderie was amazing, but so was knowing what the mission was and having a solid plan to accomplish it. He’d been floating in uncertainty for far too long. Maybe there was a place for him in Aspen Cove. Maybe if he were lucky, Charlie would find her place here too. If he pushed the odds, maybe they’d be right for each other.

  He looked across the lake to the deck of the bed and breakfast. He caught a glimpse of movement and wondered if it was her out there thinking about him.

  “If you’re serious, I’d be interested. I’ve got some money put away I can invest, but I have one caveat.”

  Bowie looked at him. “What’s your deal breaker?”

  Leave it to his old sergeant to cut through the crap. “You have to treat me like you’d treat any other partner.” Trig looked down at his knees. “I don’t want any special treatment.”

  Bowie laughed. “You’re getting all the shit I don’t want like snowshoeing. I don’t give a shit if you have to hop on one foot and crutches to get through it. That’s too damn much work for me.”

  They shook on the deal. Trig hadn’t felt that empowered in a long time. Once again, he had a mission and a goal. A few goals, if he added Charlie into the mix.

  He brushed the dripping sweat from his forehead. All the while his body shook like a junkie. He also hadn’t felt this bad in a long time.

  The last thing he heard was Bowie’s voice echoing in his head, “Are you all right? Trig, talk to me, man.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlie had finished decorating the last of the sugar cookies with Sage when a commotion came from the back deck.

  “Call your father,” was all Bowie said as he, Cannon, and Dalton stumbled through the back door carrying Trig. Her heart sunk to her bare feet. He was still and pale.

  “What the hell happened?” Charlie said as she rushed ahead of them to open Trig’s bedroom door. She tossed the clothes he had on the bed away and pulled down the covers.

  “Call your dad,” Bowie said again. There was more than concern in his expression. He looked downright scared.

  Sage walked in and tossed Charlie her phone. “I called Lydia, she was at Louise’s. Looks like the weather isn’t only bringing us an ice storm, but also a baby. Louise is stable and Lydia is on her way, too.”

  Charlie dialed her dad’s number. “Daddy, it’s Trig, he’s not conscious.” She brushed her hand to his forehead. “He’s got a fever. I need you to come right away.” She hung up the phone and started to strip Trig down. “Help me get him out of these clothes. He’s burning up.”

  At any other time it would have been funny to see the faces of three grown men look appalled at stripping a man naked, but Bowie, Cannon, and Dalton were pale with worry.

  Medicine was medicine, and Charlie went straight into caregiver mode. She couldn’t grow up with a doctor as a father and not glean something from the experience.

  When she had Trig in nothing but a sock and boxers, she told Dalton to get a washcloth and a pan of cool water.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and mopped at his sweaty brow. He moaned and opened his eyes. “Don’t let them take me to the hospital. Please,” he begged and closed his eyes again.

  Her father rushed inside ten minutes later. “Sorry it took so long. The roads are awful. Covered with ice.” He shuffled everyone but Charlie out the door. When Lydia walked inside, Charlie stood back and let them have the space they needed to help Trig.

  She was awestruck to watch them work in tandem as if they’d been doing it for years, but seeing her father care for someone she loved brought back old, ugly memories. Anxiety threaded up her spine until it nearly paralyzed her.

  “Hundred and four. Blood pressure is elevated at 150/90. Pulse is accelerated.” Lydia pulled a stethoscope from her bag and listened to Trig’s heart while Charlie’s father took a look at his leg.

  “He’s got a mean infection brewing here. We should call 911 and get him transported to Copper Creek.”

  “Not going to happen,” Lydia said. “I just heard they closed the pass between here and Copper Creek. Silver Springs is impossible to get to as well. No birds are flying. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “No,” Charlie cried. While she knew Trig didn’t want to go to the hospital, she saw the look on her father’s face—the same look he’d had the day her mother died. “He didn’t want to go to the hospital, but he needs better care.” Her father’s soft blue eyes dulled with understanding. She hated that she’d hurt his feelings, but she knew if Trig died, she’d always wonder if was due to his level of care.

  Lydia stood back and watched them.

  Doc walked to Charlie and set his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, he’s a very sick man. He’s got an infection.” Doc pulled her over to see the festering wound at his amputation site. “He needs antibiotics and an IV and round the clock observation. I have to be honest—”

  “No,” she said with determination. She looked back at the man she’d come to care for. “You have to leave. Lydia will take care of him.”

  She could see the wheels turning in her father’s head. “Honey, he’s going to need round the clock care. I want to be here for you—for him.”

  “No.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Dad, please go. Go help Louise.” She looked at the man covered in scars. “I can’t lose you both in the same night.”

  Her father’s features softened and he pulled her to his chest for a big comforting hug.

  “You’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

  “Yes, I’ll sleep with him.” She hadn’t meant it that way, but knew her father didn’t like hearing that from his daughter.

  “Just be with him. I’ll get what we need from the clinic and be right back. Lydia and Sage can pull shifts. We can get one of the EMTs here if needed.” Doc left.

  Lydia gave Charlie a hard look. “
You want to tell me what that’s about? You just made the man most qualified to care for Trig leave.”

  Charlie shook her head. “I’d never forgive him if Trig died.”

  Lydia moved around Trig, checking his vitals again. “Is this about your mother?”

  Charlie’s head fell. “He should have saved her.”

  Lydia pulled her to the corner of the room. “I’ve seen her chart. There was nothing your father could have done.”

  “You’re wrong.” She swiped at the tears pooling in her eyes. “He was late getting home. He always took care of everyone else, but when it came to his wife, he wasn’t there. I’d upset her an hour before. I caused the stress and he failed to save her.”

  Lydia frowned. “I don’t want to be harsh given the situation, but I feel it’s important to be honest.” She looked toward Trig. “Your mother was dead before she hit the ground. Her brain bleed was inoperable. Even if an entire team of neurosurgeons had been present they couldn’t have saved her. You didn’t cause it either. These things can lie dormant for years like a volcano and then erupt.”

  Charlie stared at Lydia, who had returned to Trig. His body shook from fever. She pressed the cold compress to his forehead.

  “He could have told me. He never told me those things.”

  Lydia shook her head. “Would you have listened? Would you have heard? We’ll pull shifts until we know he’s out of danger. I’ll take the first shift. My sister can take tomorrow.”

  Charlie threw herself at Lydia. Tears rushed down her cheeks. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Don’t make it up to me. Make it up to your father. Forgive him. Forgive yourself.”

  When Doc returned, Charlie sank into the seat in the corner of the room and watched them turn Trig’s room into a medical center. Within seconds, he was hooked up to an IV drip that infused his body with antibiotics. A small machine sat on the nightstand monitoring his vitals. When Lydia set out to clean the wound, Trig moaned in pain. Charlie rushed to his side and held his hand. Though he didn’t open his eyes, she knew he felt her presence by the way he held onto her as if she tethered him to earth.