12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart (14 page)

T
he last thing
he wanted to admit to Carolyn was that being in a hospital again terrified him. The astringent smells, the plain walls, and the sight of medical personnel made him want to retch everything he’d eaten that day.

Stepping into the ER with her in his arms had been one the hardest things he’d done. Since his wife had passed away, he’d only entered the hospital for one other person in the past fifteen years. Months ago when he’d taken Zoe Morgan to see her Grams. He’d felt the same nausea then as now, but he’d beaten it that day. Peter could conquer it again for Carolyn.

All those years of chemo and treatments with Diane had instilled an automatic sense of dread. If he could avoid hospitals and doctors’ offices for the rest of his life, it would be fine by him.

He wasn’t really trying to avoid Carolyn’s question about children. He just hadn’t wanted to go through those doors. There were too many terrible memories behind them.

They were the last thing he saw the night he lost Diane. He’d run out of the hospital and shouted at the sky. Cursing that she’d been taken from him so quickly. Angry that she’d had to fight so long and so hard only to have the cancer still win. They couldn’t beat it.

She’d gone into remission five times. Five times it’d come back with a vengeance.

That fifth time stole her from him in less than a week.

He pulled out his phone and browsed through messages while he waited. Played a few games of solitaire and texted a couple of the boys from the stable to bring his truck over to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, Harvey had popped into the waiting area and handed off the keys. Peter thanked him and apologized for interrupting his day off, but Harvey had just smiled and said he wasn’t doing anything that Peter wouldn’t have done for him in a heartbeat.

When Carolyn’s voice called out to from across the lobby, his whole body heaved a sigh of relief. The same nurse was wheeling her toward him, but the tightness and obvious discomfort that had been in Carolyn’s face since he’d picked her up off her lawn was gone. Her eyes were slightly dilated and the smile on her face said they’d given her a good-sized dose of pain-killers.

“You came in with her, right?” the nurse asked.

“Yes, how is she?”

“It was a bad break. The doctor was able to set it, so she doesn’t need surgery, but it’s still very swollen and she’s not allowed to put any pressure on it. We will need to see her back in four to five days to put a hard cast on it once the swelling goes down. Will you be taking care of her, sir?”

“Yes, I’ll make sure she’s safely back home.”

“She was in a lot of pain.” The nurse handed him a small slip of paper. “We gave her a dose of hydrocodone already, but you will need to stop and get this prescription filled. She can take as needed, but no more than one pill every four to six hours.”

Peter took a deep breath and nodded.

“Did you know you are really cute in that Santa outfit?” Carolyn blurted, and started giggling.

He smiled down at her. “You are definitely feeling more relaxed.” Looking back at the nurse, he shoved the prescription slip into his back pocket. “Thank you. Can you wheel her to the door? I’ll just go get my truck.”

The nurse nodded and he hurried out into the dark. A chill still hung in the Texas air, but he liked the crispness. It wasn’t really winter yet, that wouldn’t hit until mid-January and February. December was generally pretty mild. The Santa outfit was almost too heavy.

He located the truck by clicking his fob a couple of times and listening for the beep. By the time he pulled up the drive in front of the ER doors, Carolyn appeared to be entertaining the nurse, because the poor woman doubled over and laughing hard.

“What?” he asked, strolling around the front of his truck toward them.

“She was just telling me how Santa ran her over and then saved her from a couple of wolves only to drag her to a party where a vet wrapped her leg until you could bring her here. It’s quite the tale.” The nurse smirked.

“It was an eventful day so far, I’ll have to admit,” he said, allowing the corners of his mouth to curve into a smile. “One of the horses in the Christmas Stroll got spooked by a car backfiring.”

“Yikes. Sound like you were lucky there weren’t more injuries.”

“Very.” He opened the passenger door and helped Carolyn into the seat. “Night.”

“Night,” the nurse called, turning and wheeling the chair back through the sliding glass doors.

He rounded the truck and climbed back into the drivers’ seat. Pulling out of the parking lot, Peter slowly made his way through town and the thickening dinner-time traffic. He stopped at the first corner store he came across went around to the pharmacy drive-thru. He’d have to get back out later and pick up her prescription.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of the only house on Third Street with no Christmas decorations.

“It’s depressing isn’t it?” Her voice was small, but the finality was what worried him.

“It’s never too late to change your mind. I have some extra decorations at my house I could bring over.”

After carrying her into the house and depositing her on the large brown couch in the center of the living room, she finally spoke again.

“I have all the stuff. It’s still in the attic.”

“Oh,” he said, digging around her kitchen cabinets and fridge for something he could cook up for her for dinner. The woman didn’t even have a loaf of bread. The fridge sported several takeout containers, a half empty carton of eggs, and a bottle of ketchup, mustard, mayo, some orange juice and several bottles of wine. “Carolyn, what do you usually eat for dinner?”

“The takeout menus are in the drawer,” she hollered from the living room.

Takeout…every night?
“Now that is depressing.”

“You should find my Christmas tree and put it up. Would you do that for me? I really think I want a tree this year.”

“Sure.” Peter walked toward the couch.

Her eyes were closed and a small smile curved across her face. Dinner could wait. She deserved some rest.

He surveyed the room. Plain. Beige. Brown furniture with a few white accent pillows and a couple of lamps that looked like they were from a garage sale in the seventies. In fact, most of the furniture looked like it’d come from a flea market.

This room needed more than just a Christmas tree to breathe some life back into it.

C
arolyn opened
her eyes and blinked. Lighted garland hung from the mantle above the fireplace. A large pine wreath sat above it. The fire was crackling below, giving off comforting waves of warmth from the bright red coals…like it had been burning for hours. How long had she been out? Where had all the Christmas stuff come from…her Christmas stuff.

She rubbed her eyes and groaned when she shifted her leg. Pain lanced through her body and she froze. As long as she was still, nothing hurt too much. The ache was there, but it was muddled through the drugs the hospital had given her.

Turning her head a little further, she opened her eyes again and gasped. A large Christmas tree sat completely decorated in the far corner of the living room. The colored lights blinked and threw festive patterns against the bare beige walls.

He’d found everything.

“Peter?”

She heard a rustle in the hallway and a loud thump as the attic door snapped back into place. Heavy footsteps approached on the hardwood floors. A moment later, Peter’s face appeared in her line of sight.

He wasn’t wearing a Santa costume any longer though. A pair of worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a red plaid flannel shirt had transformed her Holiday attacker/savior into an even more ruggedly handsome man. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing sinuous and well-defined muscles. It made her instantly wish for another reason to be cradled in those beautiful arms.

“You’re awake.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Three hours. I hope you don’t mind. I went and picked up your pain meds, grabbed some groceries for a late dinner, and then started digging through your attic since you said you wanted me to put up the Christmas tree.”

“I said that?”

Peter’s face tightened and his smile flattened into a straight line. “Yes.” He set the box in his hands on the coffee table.

“It looks really nice. Thank you.”

His shoulders dropped and his smile returned instantly. He unfolded the flaps on the box and began pulling out the porcelain nativity scene her grandmother had given her when she got married.

It was beautiful. She’d forgotten.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You’re not supposed to walk for seven days. I couldn’t let you have Christmas again without some holiday cheer, especially after you asked for the tree. I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberties with the rest of your things. Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Fire away.” Carolyn pulled herself up onto a throw pillow.

He carefully placed the nativity scene gently, piece by piece, across the long shelf of the mantle above the fireplace, then turned to face her. “Good?”

She smiled. “Perfect.”

He moved the box to the other side of the room and returned, taking a seat in the large recliner across from her, closer to the fire place. “Why is all your furniture so old? You have this beautiful historic house that I know cost quite a bit, but nothing matches, and it all seems very worn.”

Carolyn sighed. “My ex let me keep the house, but he took all the furniture. I replaced things with hand-me-downs from neighbors and cheap stuff at garage sales. It’s better than sitting on the floor…which I did do for nearly three months,” she added. “People felt sorry for me for the first few months, but after that…I just sorta drifted off their radar. I stopped going to church. Stopped meeting friends. I just stopped.” She rubbed her temples. “It was easier to disappear than fight to find a new way to live. Since I work from home…”

“It was too easy,” he filled in.

She nodded.

“So it took being run over by a horse to knock you out of your rut?”

“Actually, I think it was your dimples that did it,” she said, taking a risk with the admission. How would he respond? She was pretty sure he was interested, but she could be wrong. It wasn’t like she was an expert on men. She’d only ever been with one, and she hadn’t dated since she was a teenager. And that was over twenty-five years ago.

The small smile on his face broadened.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just brought up a memory.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, something my wife used to say. That my dimples were what she woke up every morning, and wanted to see first.”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced away and stared into the burning embers of the fire. Competing with a dead woman wasn’t really what she had in mind.

“Carolyn.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. He was right next to her, sitting on the floor in front of the couch.
When did he move?

“I loved my wife very dearly. She’s been gone for fifteen years, but I will always have a place for her in my heart. It doesn’t hurt to talk about her and I don’t want it to make you uncomfortable. She was one of the most joyful women I’ve ever known. Even when the cancer finally stole her away from me…” His eyes watered. “All I can see in my mind is her smile. She told me to keep my eyes forward and not dwell in the past. I haven’t done that very well, but today when I picked you up that very first time…I didn’t want to put you down.”

“I pretended to fight.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t been held by a man since my husband left me ten years ago.”

She gasped for a breath of air before his mouth descended on hers. Soft, but demanding. He crushed her lips and swept his tongue inside her open and willing mouth.

It’d been so long. He felt so good.

Peter slipped one arm beneath her torso and wrapped the other around the top, drawing her upper half closer to his chest, but not disturbing her legs.

His mouth moved from her lips to feather kisses along her jawline, down her neck and into the pulse points above her collarbone.

Her breasts ached and her nipples tightened inside her bra, becoming uncomfortable. She wanted more, but when she tried to move her leg, the pain was overwhelming. She winced and he moved his hand to her thigh, pushing her leg back flat on the couch.

“Not right now,” he whispered. “But I promise I’m not going anywhere. I fully intend to taste every inch of you.”

“
P
eter
?” Carolyn called from her bedroom.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, all six feet of sexy cowboy, and all hers. She’d vowed to take that crazy mare of the VonBrandts an apple one day as a thank you, but they hadn’t made it out there yet.

Right now they were in the middle of packing her house and his. They were both moving forward and rather quickly. Six weeks after she’d gotten her cast off, they’d been married in small private ceremony in the Baptist Church in town. Now they were moving into a new home together.

Both of them decided they needed a fresh start, so they’d sold their houses and purchased a lovely home several blocks west of her old one. It was a fixer-upper, but she was really looking forward to sprucing it up to showcasing Peter’s personality as well as hers.

“This is the last box,” she said, taping it up. She sat on the bare mattress and stared out the window into what had been her back yard for the past twenty years.

“It’s hard to say goodbye, isn’t it.” Peter slid next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin.

“I didn’t think it would be.”

“It’s okay to be sad. This was your home for a long time.”

“What about your house? Are you going to miss it?”

He gave her a squeeze. “Nope. Because I’m going to be making new memories with you. I can’t wait.”

She smiled. He always knew what to say. The man was a packed suitcase of positivity. How he’d survived what he had to be the man he was today was unfathomable, but she was so very grateful that he had.

If it hadn’t been for him, she might’ve lived the rest of her life in depressing solitude and self-pity, but Peter changed everything.

Waking up in his arms every morning was everything she could’ve ever hoped for. He’d given her so much more than love.

He’d given her new life.

He’d given her joy.

And she wanted to bathe in every glorious second.

Preferably in the tub with him.