Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

“Now what?” he asked, surveying his work.

“Now, breakfast. I believe it’s your turn to cook.”

He studied her with his eyebrows raised, then, seeing that she wasn’t kidding, he nodded. “Okay, breakfast it is.”

“There’s a pile of food in the big cooler in the kitchen. I never bothered with the fridge.”

“Is there—dare I hope—coffee?”

“Of course there’s coffee. And luckily, I brought the stovetop percolator.”

“I’m not sure I know how to use it.”

“Then I’ll brew while you cook. Let’s get cracking, we’ve got a ton to do today.”

“We do?” He looked around the place as if in search of all the busywork she had lined up. “Like what?”

“Decorate the tree. Make Christmas dinner. And build a snowman.”

“I was thinking more in terms of shoveling the driveway and cleaning off our cars.”

She stuck out her lower lip. “You’re in that much of a hurry to leave?”

He studied her face, sensing a lapse in her happy-go-lucky, Holly-Golightly mood. “We’re going to have to eventually, Holly. It’s stopped snowing. They’ll probably clear the roads before the day is out.”

She lowered her head, licked her lips, then nodded once. “Well, let’s get on with breakfast then. If we’re going to decorate the tree, make the dinner, build a snowman, clear the driveway, and clean off the cars, we’d better get a move on.”

But the sadness remained in her eyes, despite her bright smile, as she hurried into the kitchen. Dammit, he thought. He knew it. He knew she was going to get all emotional on him, and want more than just a casual encounter. He hated hurting her. It was like kicking a puppy to hurt a bubbly little thing like Holly. But he couldn’t help it.

God, he couldn’t even imagine what else there could be between them. They were completely opposite in every way. Living with that cheerful, positive, upbeat, silver lining kind of attitude in his life would…

He was going to say it would be horrible. But he couldn’t quite tell that big a lie, even to himself.

It just wasn’t what he had planned. That’s all.

BY NOON, THE DETERMINED, STUBBORN, FRIGHTENED MANhad shoveled the driveway to within an inch of its life. Yes, frightened, Holly thought. He was scared to death of her, she knew it. And not just of her, but of what she represented—belief. Faith. Reaching for the impossible with every expectation that it would be. He didn’t want to believe in anything, because his past was full of pain. He was just avoiding more of that. Or he thought he was.

But he wasn’t really living.

He wanted to get away from her so bad, she thought if they’d been stranded on a desert island, he would try to swim for it. If they were in a prison cell, he’d have gnawed through the bars. As it was, all he had to do was shovel some snow and wait for the plows.

He was cleaning off the cars now. Hers as well as his own. And he’d be done soon. Her time was running out.

She bundled up and headed outside. “Enough work for one day,” she announced, snatching the snow brush from him. “It’s time for some fun.”

“You’ve got the tree all decked already?”

“What, you thought I was going to do it alone? No way. You, Ebenezer, are going to help me trim that tree. I’ve strung the popcorn and cranberries, though, and dinner’s in the oven.”

“Won’t it be done awfully early?”

“Mmm. I figured that way you could eat with me before you take off. It hasn’t snowed all day, and the plows have got to be out and making their way to us.” She eyed the driveway, the cars. “And it looks like you’ve accomplished your chosen goals for the day. So all that’s left…”

“Oh, not the snowman.”

“Yes! The snowman.” And with that she set the snowbrush beside the car, and ran into the snow. She started forming a snowball with the heavy, damp snow. “It’s perfect for snowman building. And what a day. I mean, look at it, Matthew.”

He did, she watched him. He looked up at the bluest sky imaginable, with the sun streaming down. It was, she suspected, about forty degrees. Pleasant and beautiful. While he was still staring up at the sky, she lifted her arm and pegged him square in the chest with the snowball.

“Hey!” He brushed the snow off, but even as he did, she bent to form another.

“Defend yourself, or suffer the consequences!” She fired again, but he ducked behind the car—her car, not his, she noticed. When he sprang up again, he was firing right back at her, and she took one to the side of the head before she found cover behind a drift. When she peeked up again, he was right on the other side, ready to nail her, so she pushed him hard, hands flat to his chest. He grabbed her wrists to keep from falling and wound up pulling her down in the snow on top of him.

They were both laughing, and then they both stopped. She held his eyes, licked her lips, prayed he would kiss her. And then he answered her prayer and did.

He kissed her, softly, then more deeply, and then his tongue swept into her mouth and she moaned around it. His hips arched against hers. She arched right back. They twined and tangled and fed from each other.

And then a roar made her lift her head. And she felt her heart break a little as the snowplow rumbled past, blasting snow out of the road like some kind of monster.

It felt like a monster to her just then.

There would be no snowman. No Christmas dinner with him. No trimming the tree. No more lovemaking. He was leaving; she could see it in his eyes when she lifted her face enough to stare down into them.

“I…can still make my flight,” he said.

And why did it hurt so much when she’d only known him for such a short time?

She got up and turned toward the house, because her eyes were burning and she didn’t want him to see that.

But he caught her shoulders, turned her around, and looked at her tears. “I’m really sorry, Holly. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You’re not supposed to leave. I know you don’t believe in signs, Matthew, but we were meant to meet. We were meant to be together, here, like this. And I can’t believe that the universe went to all the trouble to set this up, just to give us one night of great sex.”

“Holly—”

“There has to be more to it than that. There has to be.”

He sighed, and lowered his head. “It was coincidence. That’s all. There’s no deeper meaning, no universe plotting our lives. Things just happen, Holly. This…just happened. That’s all.”

She lowered her head, nodded. “Your keys are on the mantle. I’ll get them for you.” And with that, she walked back to the house, through the door. Angrily, she tugged off her mittens and brushed away her tears. Then she took the box she’d wrapped in old newspapers and decorated with a piece of pine all twisted around with a bit of her popcorn and cranberry garland. She picked up his key ring, and blinked her eyes as dry as possible, then she went back outside.

“What’s this?” he asked when she handed him the box.

“It’s a Christmas present.” She shrugged. “It’s stupid, really. Just something I thought…” She let the words die. “I, um—I put my phone number in there, too. I mean, at least that way, when you don’t call, I’ll know it’s because you don’t want to, and not because you don’t know how to reach me.”

“Holly—”

“Just go, okay? Just go, Matthew.”

He sighed deeply. She couldn’t keep the tears back any longer, so she turned and ran back into the house, fast, because she didn’t want to lose it in front of him and make him feel worse than he already did. It wasn’t exactly fair—she’d told him she wouldn’t make anything out of this, and then she had.