Sarah Morgan - Snow Crystal Trilogy

“You think so?” His gaze flicked to hers. “Generally I know when I’m making a mistake. Coming back here sometimes feels like one. Working at 2:00 a.m. always feels like one. Kissing you, didn’t.”

Desperate, she latched on to the one part of the conversation that wasn’t personal. “Why does it feel like a mistake to have come back?”

“I’m not going to let you do that. I’m not going to let you shift this conversation.” His gaze was locked on hers. He didn’t look away. Not even when Tally delivered the main course to the table—rack of lamb served with baby vegetables and crushed herbed potatoes. “Tell me why you were willing to work over Christmas.”

“You heard Brett—I feast on difficult. Except right now I’d rather be feasting on this. Élise is a fabulous chef.” Kayla focused on the food on her plate, wondering why being close to him made her nervous. “I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I’m giving you a ski lesson. You will have sweated off the calories by lunchtime. So you don’t see your folks during the holidays?”

He wasn’t going to let it drop.

Kayla put her fork down, leaving her food untouched. “What was it you said today in the forest? Something about preferring it straight? I’m going to give it to you straight, Jackson. This may come as a shock given that your home seems to be a sanctuary for decorations and a breeding colony for gingerbread Santas, but not everyone is addicted to Christmas. Some of us don’t like the holidays too much. In fact—” she hesitated and then decided it was time to be honest “—I hate it. It’s my least favorite time of year. I was willing to work over Christmas because it seemed like the perfect escape. Does that answer your question?”

IT DIDN’T BEGIN to answer his question, but that was probably because he had a bunch of them.

“You came here to escape Christmas?”

“I thought it might be easier.” She picked up her knife and fork and sliced through the lamb. “I thought I had more chance of avoiding festivities here than I did there. You promised me a secluded log cabin. It sounded appealing.”

“And then you found out my family makes a big fuss of Christmas.”

“Mmm.” She chewed. “That came as a bit of a shock, but I’m over it now.”

“Why do you hate this time of year?”

“It’s frustrating trying to get anything done. Publications run on a skeleton staff, opportunities for coverage go down, people in the office walk round wearing ridiculous bits of tinsel in their hair—”

“That tells me why Christmas is inconvenient. It doesn’t tell me why you hate it.”

A few seconds passed.

“It just isn’t a happy time of year for me.” She said it quietly and he felt something tug inside him.

In the flickering candlelight he could see the thickness of her lashes and the smooth curve of her cheek. In her black dress, she looked younger. More vulnerable. Less like the killer PR expert and more like a woman. And he knew, deep in his gut, that there was some much deeper, darker reason for her dislike of Christmas than the inconvenience of the holiday season.

He remembered how pale she’d looked decorating the Christmas tree. She’d seemed as fragile as the frosted silver decoration she’d held in her hand.

“I’ll try to make sure you’re not subjected to too much Christmas during your stay.”

“Oh—” she smiled, back to being her detached, professional self “—it’s really not that much of a big deal.”

It was obviously a huge deal. He heard it in her voice and saw it in the way she held herself.

“So let me give you some tips about skiing tomorrow—” He steered the conversation in a different direction, entertained her with stories about skiing exploits when he and his brothers were growing up and saw the tension gradually ease out of her shoulders.

By the time they reached dessert—a delicate trio of French patisseries that would have shattered anyone’s resolution to forgo dessert—she was even laughing.

And she was still laughing as he drove her back to her cabin, regaling her with stories about Tyler.

“Seriously? He did that? It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed.” Smiling, she pushed open the gate. She’d pulled on her snow boots in his car, and she walked confidently now, but he noticed that when he took her hand she didn’t pull away.

The moon sent a ripple of silvery light over the snow-covered trees and she stood for a moment and breathed.

“It is beautiful here. Like being in our own world. The land of Snow Crystal.”

“Occupied by aliens,” he said drily, and she laughed.

“Occupied by brave fighters who refuse to be defeated by the big bad economy.”

The smile stayed on her face all the way to the cabin. It stayed in place until she glanced into her glassfronted living room and saw the enormous Christmas tree twinkling with lights and silver stars.

“Oh.” Her tone was flat. “Who put that there?”

Jackson held his breath to prevent himself venting every swearword in his vocabulary.

“I’m guessing it was Alice.”

“Your eighty-year-old grandmother dragged a six-foot tree through the forest? That’s impressive.”

“I heard her talking this afternoon when she came back from her shopping trip. She thought you were upset because you weren’t home for Christmas.” And his mother had tried to talk her out of it, he remembered. Somehow, his mother had known Kayla wouldn’t want one. “She must have had Tyler help her or something. Hell, Kayla, I can—”

“No.” She turned, her smile as fake as the spray snow they used on the windows of the village store. “She was being thoughtful and I don’t want to offend her. I’ve done more than enough of that. It’s fine. It’s just a tree.”

But he could see it was so much more than a tree. It was a reminder of a time of year she hated, and it had killed their brief moment of camaraderie.

The laughter, the humor, the connection—it had all gone. She’d pulled herself back, like a turtle retreating inside the protection of its shell.

“Kayla, if you don’t like Christmas then you don’t want to be walking around that damn thing each time you go to the kitchen. I can—”

“I’ll just tune it out.” She was already walking up the steps, pulling away from him physically and mentally. “I won’t even notice it’s there when I’m working.”

Jackson wanted to ask how the hell she planned on tuning out something that was almost the size of the Empire State Building, but she had the door open and was giving him that fixed, formal smile she’d perfected. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ll get to work on that proposal.”

“JESS?” TYLER THUMPED his fist on the door and wondered whether this whole parenting thing would have been easier if he’d had Jess living with him all her life. At least he would have had more practice. “Open this goddamn door right now or I swear to God I’ll break it down and I’ll be patching up the wood with those skis of yours.”

That threat received the same lack of response as the others he’d thrown at her.

Ash and Luna whined as they watched him from the top of the stairs.

“What?” He glared at the dogs. “If you know something, for fuck’s sake tell me.”

He’d started patient. Then patience had given way to manipulation. Turned out he wasn’t above bribery—hell, he’d tried everything from promises of hot chocolate to new skis, but he still couldn’t get the girl to open the door.