Laura Altom - The SEAL's Christmas Twins

“We still on for this afternoon?”

He nodded. “Two, right?”

“Yes. Benton’s opening his office just for us, so don’t be late.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Little Hattie Beaumont, who never once made it to school on time, is lecturing me on punctuality? And how many nights did your mother send me out to find you for dinner?”

Eyes shining, she looked away from him, then smiled. “Good times, huh?”

“The best.” Back then, he’d had it all figured out. Perfect woman, job—even had his eye on a fixer-upper at the lonely end of Juniper Lane. Considering how tragic his parents’ marriage had ultimately been, he should’ve known better than to believe his life would turn out any different.

Joining the navy had been the best thing he’d ever done.

“Well...” She gestured to the house next door. “I wanted to thank Fern for the pies and ham she brought to the wake. Might as well check her firewood while I’m there.”

“Want me to tag along?” He’d forgotten the spirit of community up here. The way everyone watched out for everyone else. He’d lived in his Virginia Beach apartment for just over five years, but still didn’t have a clue about any of his neighbors.

“Thanks, but I can handle it.” Her forced smile brought on a protective streak in him for the girl who’d grown into a woman.

“I’m not saying you can’t. Just offering to lend a hand. Besides...” Half smiling, he shook his head. “I haven’t seen Fern since she ratted me out for driving my snowmobile across her deck.”

“She still hasn’t built railings. I’m surprised nobody’s tried it since.”

“What can I say? I’m an original.”

“More like a delinquent.” She waved goodbye and walked down the street, then shouted, “Don’t be late!”

“I won’t.”

“Oh—and, Mason?” He’d resumed shoveling, but looked up to find her biting her lower lip.

“Yeah?”

She looked down. “Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Sure. No problem,” he lied. Actually, returning to Conifer had brought on an unfathomable amount of pain. Remembering Hattie’s big sister, Melissa—the love of his life—was never easy. Not only had she broken his heart, but spirit. She’d taught him trust should’ve been a four-letter word. He hated her on a scale he’d thought himself incapable of reaching.

Now that she was dead?

All that hate mixed with guilt culminated in killer heartburn and an insatiable need to escape.

Chapter Two

Hattie had believed her childhood crush on Mason long over. Then he’d gone and flashed his crooked smile, opening the gate for her flood of feelings for him to come rushing back.

Along with her parents—the twins were being watched by their neighbor Sophie—Hattie now sat outside the office of family friend, and the only lawyer in town, Benton Seagrave, waiting for Mason to arrive. The metal folding chair serving as his trailer’s bare-bones reception area made her squirmy. The scent of burnt coffee churned her stomach.

As with many folks in Alaska, Benton had a personal drive outside of his profession. He practiced law from October through May—and then, begrudgingly. His summers were spent on his gold claim in the Tolovana-Livengood region. The only reason he’d agreed to see the family today was because Mason and Alec’s folks flew out in the morning.

Holding her hands clasped on her knees, Hattie closed her eyes, contrasting her remembered images of Mason with ones recently gained.

He’d always been taller than her, but now she felt positively petite standing beside him—not an easy feat for a woman a few local teens still called Fattie Hattie. Not only had he grown in height, but stature. He’d shoveled in his Sorel boots, jeans and a brown long-johns top that had clung to broadened shoulders and pecs. When he’d shoveled, his biceps could’ve earned their own zip code. Sure, in the bar she owned plenty of fit men came and went, but none caused her stomach to somersault with just a flash of a crooked smile. Mason’s blue eyes had darkened and lines now creased the corners. His perpetually mussed dark hair shone with golden highlights. She was two years younger than him, and while the few other kids they’d gone to school with mercilessly teased her about her weight, he’d actually talked to her, sharing her love of astronomy and fishing and most of all...her sister.

On Mason and Melissa’s wedding day, Hattie had tried being happy, but in actuality, she’d suffered through, forcing her smile and well-wishes, secretly resenting her sister for not only her too-tight maid-of-honor dress selection, but for marrying the only man Hattie had ever loved.

Of course in retrospect, Hattie knew she hadn’t loved Mason, but crushed on him. Daydreamed of him holding her, kissing her, declaring it had never been Melissa he’d wanted, but her. Now that Melissa was dead, the mere thought of those traitorous longings made her feel dirty and disrespectful.

Melissa was—had been—the bronzed beauty every guy wanted. For as long as she could remember, Hattie battled jealousy and resentment she’d never wanted, but seemed to have always carried. When Melissa destroyed Mason by cheating on him, well, Hattie had secretly sided with him in believing her own sister heartless and cruel. Years later, when Melissa struggled to conceive, Hattie’s guilt doubled for believing her sister’s infertility was karma paying a call.

Now that Melissa was dead, self-loathing consumed Hattie for not only all of that, but not being able to cry. Since the accident, she’d been the strong one, shielding her parents from the painful process of burying their perfect child, their pretty child, the one their Inuit mother had called piujuq—beautiful.

From outside came the clang of someone mounting the trailer’s metal steps. Seconds later, the door was tugged open. Mason ducked as he entered, brushing snow from his dark hair. He still wore his jeans and boots, but had added an ivory cable-knit sweater that made his blue eyes all the more striking. For a moment, Hattie fell speechless. Then she remembered she wasn’t seeing Mason for a happy reunion, but the reading of her sister’s will.

Her parents, still holding tight to their resentment over the divorce—and especially his attendance at an intimate family moment such as the reading of Melissa’s will—barely acknowledged his presence.

“Am I late?” He checked his black Luminox watch, the kind she’d seen on divers around town. Certain times of year, Conifer was a bustling port.

“W-we’re early.” She struggled knowing what to do with her hands. “Alec’s parents should be here soon, so Benton said to let him know when we’re all ready.”

“Sure.” Mason shoved his hands in his pockets.

And then they waited.

No one said a word. Aside from wind gusts and papery whispers of Reader’s Digest pages being turned, all in the cramped space had fallen silent. Thank goodness Hattie’s racing thoughts and pulse had no volume or everyone would know the extent of her panic. For years, she’d dreamed of a reunion with Mason, but never under these circumstances.

Twenty minutes passed with still no sign of Alec’s parents.

A muffled landline rang in Benton’s office, then came a brief, equally muffled conversation.

“Look,” Mason said, “if you all don’t mind, I’d just as soon get started. I can’t imagine what Melissa would’ve left me. The whole thing’s bizarre.”

“Agreed,” Hattie’s father said, also rising, offering his hand to his wife. Akna and Lyle led the way down the short hall leading to Benton’s office.

Before Lyle had reached the door, Benton opened it. “Good, you’re all here.” He waved Akna and Lyle into the room. “That was Taylor and Cindy on the phone. They’re not going to make it.”