Jackie Braun - Christmas with Him

“It’s okay,” she assured him, even as her own heart began to ache a bit.

“It’s not okay!” He cursed again, this time with more force, and turned to face her. She saw anger and frustration, neither of which was directed at her. “None of this is okay, Eve. None of it.”

His strident words seemed to echo in the vehicle. She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. After a long moment, he did. His tone was missing its angry edge. Now Dawson just sounded tired and a little lost when he told her, “Some people are able to just go with the flow. Not me. I had my life all figured out, you know? I made plans and then I followed through on them.”

“You’re talking about before the accident?”

“Yes. I made plans,” he said a second time.

Of course, he had. Dawson was the sort of man who needed to take charge, to be in control. But tragedy and grief wouldn’t follow orders. On the contrary. Once they were on the scene, they called the shots.

“It’s time to make new plans,” Eve said softly.

He faced her, his gaze glittering hard in the meager glow cast by the landscaping lights. “I did. After the accident I made new plans. I’ve been living my life according to them ever since.”

She swallowed. “And?”

“You seem to be botching them up, Eve.”

Her mouth fell open. Before she could ask what he meant by that potent statement, however, Dawson was opening the door and getting out of the Tahoe. He slammed it shut without another word.

It was several minutes after he disappeared inside the house before she felt steady enough to drive away.

The weekend proved long, as did the following week. Dawson had plenty of work to keep him busy and he finalized his plans for his trip to Cabo San Lucas. Eve called a couple times, but he made excuses not to speak with her.

You’re not ready for this, are you?

That damned question seemed to taunt him.

He was glad when Friday dawned. Another week down. Just two more to go until he boarded that plane and left everything familiar. Then he glanced out the window, saw the snow and cursed. The forecast had called for it, so the accumulation blanketing his lawn hardly came as a surprise. Even so, he didn’t like it. After showering and dressing in more casual clothes than he would wear to the office, he headed downstairs to his study. As he always did on days when the weather turned inclement, he would work from home.

As a child, he’d loved the white stuff and not just because if enough of it fell he got the day off from school. No, he’d loved playing in it, making forts out of it and packing it into balls for fights with his friends. Even as an adult he hadn’t minded it, though it often presented a headache during his commute to or from work.

What had turned him off completely to winter weather, of course, was the accident, which is why he’d opted to work from home this day.

It came as an absolute shock then when, halfway through the afternoon, his housekeeper tapped at his door to announce he had a guest.

“Eve Hawley is here,” Ingrid said.

Leather creaked as he settled back in his chair. He didn’t want to see her and yet he did.

“Send her in, please.”

She appeared in the doorway a moment later, smiling apologetically and looking lovely enough to snatch his breath away.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“That’s all right.” He rested his elbows on the desk blotter and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Did we have an appointment?” he asked.

“No. Actually, I wasn’t expecting to see you at all. I figured you would be at your office.”

Once his ego had absorbed the blow, he replied, “I decided to work from home today.”

“So I see.”

“What can I do for you, Eve?” he asked curtly.

He saw hurt flash in her dark eyes just before she blinked, and hated himself for it. This wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault.

“I have some gift ideas as well as some actual things that I purchased for family members. I was planning to leave them for you to look over.”

“Okay.”

At that single, sparse word, she backed up a step, nodding. None of the spunk she’d exhibited on her first visit to his home was evident when she said, “Well, I’ll just leave them with Ingrid. Thanks.”

She’d already turned and gone before Dawson managed to launch himself from his seat. He caught up with her in the front foyer just as she was pulling on her jacket.

“Eve, wait.”

She turned, a manufactured smile tilting up her lips. “Yes?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t go. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Angry.”

“I’m not angry. Why in the world would I be angry?” she asked, tossing the end of her scarf over one shoulder.

“Because I was being a jerk.”

She stopped in the process of pulling on her gloves. “Yes,” she agreed with a considering nod. “You were. A rude jerk to be precise.”

Dawson’s laughter was strained, even though the ice had been broken. “You don’t believe in cutting a guy any slack, do you?”

“To what purpose?”

He ran his tongue over the outside of his top teeth. “Okay, how about this? Do you have any plans for dinner?”

“Tonight?” she inquired.

The woman was definitely playing hardball.

“Yes, tonight.”

“Hmm. Let me think.” She tapped her lower lip with the tip of one gloved index finger. “Not exactly, although I did take a chicken breast out of the freezer to thaw.”

It was a bit of a blow to learn he could lose out to poultry. “I believe Ingrid is making a pork roast.”

“Ah, the other white meat,” she said, repeating the industry’s slogan.

“Yes. She’s a very good cook,” he added in the hopes of aiding his cause.

Eve eyed him stoically. “Is that an invitation, Dawson?” she asked.

“It is.”

“I see.”

She was silent for so long that he was forced to ask, “Does that mean you accept?”

She tilted her head to one side. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On what else is on the menu,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. Probably some sort of rice or potato dish and a vegetable. Maybe a salad. Do you have a preference? I can let Ingrid know and I’m sure she’ll try to accommodate it,” he offered.

“Actually, I meant in the way of conversation.”

“Oh.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Are you going to talk to me?”

“Of course I am,” he replied, somewhat indignant.

“I mean an actual conversation, Dawson. No chitchat about the weather or diatribes on the economy. I can get that watching the news while I eat Chinese takeout.”

He blew out a breath. “Good God, Eve. You’re a hard woman to please.”

She unzipped the quilted down jacket she wore and laid it over his arm. Her smile was purely female when she replied, “You don’t know the half of it.”

SINCE they had some time to kill before dinner was served, Dawson suggested they sit in the great room where a fire blazed cheerfully in the hearth. Eve agreed and he helped her carry in the purchases she’d made.

In the past, he’d given Carole carte blanche to buy his family’s gifts. Afterward, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with them. Eve, of course, insisted on running everything past him.

“At the very least you should know what you bought so that when they thank you, you won’t appear baffled.”

“I’m never baffled,” he responded. Her brows rose fractionally as if to say, “Right.”

“Another one of your principles?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

As they sat on the sofa and went through the goods she’d brought with her, Dawson was impressed. The woman had a good eye. She’d pegged his mother’s taste perfectly with a specially designed amethyst ring that was surrounded by smaller stones. Tallulah was going to love it. He told Eve as much.