A Boulder Creek Christmas (5 page)

“Here, let me…” Ryan crouched to gather cut firewood from the rack beside the hearth and positioned it atop the grate. He added a few pieces of kindling and struck a long-handled match. Soon, sparks crackled into warmth and the scent of seasoned wood—one of Lani's favorites—filled the room.

“You're good at that.” Lani acknowledged. “At starting a fire.”

“I should be.” Ryan blew gently on the flames before swiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He gathered his mug of hot chocolate from where he'd set it on the floor beside him and stood to face her. “I've certainly done it enough.”

“I thought your specialty was putting out fires.”

“I can do that, too.”

Yes, he could. And he
had
in short order…with her.

“You've settled in here nicely.” Ryan splayed one hand over the growing heat as he used his other to lift the chocolate-laden mug to his lips.

“It's always felt like home.” Lani stroked Moe's sleek fur. “And Moe here helps. He's something—someone—familiar since I've known him nearly half my life.”

Indeed, Alani's parents had divorced before she'd started kindergarten. With her father residing clear across the country with his new family, and her mother away on business trips that became both more extended and more frequent over the years, she'd spent the better part of her childhood in the care of Grandma Cora. Together, the summer she'd turned fifteen, the two had hurried to the Boulder Creek Animal Shelter and rescued Moe when they heard he'd been dumped in the parking lot of the Shop-and-Save. Ryan knew all the details of the miraculous rescue; the story was legendary throughout the town.

“I've known Moe, too.”

“Not lately…not for a long time.”

“You're right, and I'd like to fix that.”

“I don't think it can be fixed.”

“That's not the vibe I get from Moe.” Indeed, the mutt, having devoured the dog biscuit, inched close enough to rest his meaty muzzle against Ryan's thigh. “Maybe we should follow his lead.”

“And maybe Moe's lead amounts to jumping off a cliff.”

“I'll jump first.” Ryan stroked Moe's snout. “You don't have to be afraid because I'll catch you, Lani.”

“I'm not afraid, and you don't have to catch me because I have no intention of taking the leap, Ryan. I did that once and I belly flopped.” Alani turned to reach for the mug she'd set on the coffee table. “I don't care to repeat the experience.”

“It will be different this time.”

“This time?” She shook her head. “There isn't going to be a
this time
.”

“We'll see.” Ryan took a step forward, his gaze trained on the slight swell of skin just below the base of her neck. “What's that?”

“It's nothing.” Lani was glad for the modesty of her scoop-necked long-sleeved T-shirt. Her cheeks warmed as her hand went to her collarbone to shield the item from his view. What would he say when he realized…what would he think? “I need to check on the roast.”

“The roast will keep. I want to see.”

Ryan set down his mug once again and closed the distance between them as flames from the fireplace chased away the chill from the room, but not Lani's heart. Flame-shaped shadows danced along the walls as darkness had taken hold in the pasture beyond, and now the hearth proved the only source of light.

“Please, let me see it, Lani.”

“OK.” Lani dropped her hand as Ryan neared. His scent—sawdust mingled with hard work and remnants of soap—clung to his clothes. Memories of the long ago Christmas Eve they'd shared swept through, softening her resolve. Her heart did a little samba as his gaze fell to her collarbone and then dipped lower…to the area just below the collar of her shirt. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Ryan lifted his hand to grasp the delicate metal between his thumb and forefinger. Lani knew the moment realization struck; he sucked in a single breath and went rock-solid still. For a moment, there was merely the soft melody of “O Holy Night” and the crackle and snap of kindling. Then, as if a dam was breached by a single, hairline fracture, Ryan murmured, “Oh, Lani…you
did
keep it all these years. Why?”

5

“I don't know why I've kept it.” Lani fingered the open silver heart, embedded with a tiny cross to one side. The piece was beautiful in its simplicity, a perfect reflection of her taste in jewelry…and the song of her soul. Ryan had hit a home run with it, melting her to the core as he'd draped the delicate chain over her collarbone and clasped it at her nape. She'd been so overcome with delight that she'd lost control of her emotions for a moment.

A moment she now deeply regretted and wished with all of her heart that she could retract.

“Well, you look as pretty in it as I remember.” Ryan caught a lock of her hair and tucked the strands over one ear as the flames in the hearth spread warmth like a comforting blanket. Lani told herself the burning embers were what caused her cheeks to heat—not the fact that she and Ryan were alone in this room again—the very room where he'd once kissed her.

Sure, she'd kissed him first, but he'd kissed her back without the slightest hint of hesitation. That had to count for something, didn't it? But then he'd run off, and never come back. That certainly had to count for something, as well.

The only other soul besides Ryan who had witnessed her momentary lapse in judgment was Moe, and thankfully, he wasn't going to blab.

But Moe watched her now with those huge, chocolate eyes, and she wondered if he was thinking about that night, same as she was. Surely not, he was merely a dog. He couldn't know…there was no way.

Lani found her voice through the lump that had formed in her throat and whispered, “I…thank you, Ryan.”

“You're welcome. I mean it, Lani…you are even more beautiful now than you were that night. I didn't think it was possible.”

She felt something shift inside, and a bit of the tension that had riddled her dissolved. She wasn't sure why, but Ryan's compliment, coupled with his tender touch along the length of her hair, softened some of the hardness in her heart.

“I've been in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and slicing carrots. My hair is a mess and my makeup is faded. I have to look a fright.”

“You don't need makeup, Lani. You…glow.”

“Did you fall off the ladder, Ryan, and bump your head?”

“No, I didn't.” He eased closer, and Lani was aware of his heat…his scent. His voice, low and gentle, soothed. “You know, Lani, that night—the night I gave you this necklace—I wanted to—”

The oven timer buzzed.

Lani startled. “Oh, the roast…”

“Wait.” Ryan reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers. His touch was so gentle with the promise that there might be more…there
could
be more. “Don't go.”

“I have to go. The roast will dry out. I should…get it out of the oven now. And the bread…I haven't even baked it yet.” Lani backed away from Ryan. The heat of his large, callused hand soothed and made her want even more. She quickly reminded herself that he wouldn't be there at all if it weren't for him thinking he owed her something—a list of honey-do chores. Which took her back 'round to wondering…how had the bid been posted in her name? And who, given the measure of their anonymous generosity, really deserved Ryan's assistance with chores? “I've been distracted, and now I
have
to go.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

“You don't have to. You've done enough today. Let me do this one small kindness for you while you simply relax.”

“OK, I'm still coming with you but I promise I won't lift a hand.” He grinned through a wink. “I'll just watch. I love to watch you, Lani.”

“You shouldn't. You…mustn't.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're sure to regret it if you get tangled up with me again, Ryan.” Lani shook her head as tears gathered along the corners of her eyes to blur her vision. “Just like you did…before.”

“Is that what you think?” He slipped a pair of fingers beneath her chin and lifted gently until Lani's gaze connected with his. “That I regret kissing you?”

“You didn't kiss me, Ryan.
I
kissed
you
.” Lani swiped at her eyes. “And how can I not believe you carry regret over it? After all, that night was the last time you ever stepped foot in this house…until today—until now.”

“Oh, Lani…We've got a puzzle to figure out, don't we?” Ryan murmured, as if he could read straight into the heart of her thoughts. He leaned in, his breath a warm caress at her cheek as his fingers slipped from her chin to follow the curve of her jaw. “Well, if you don't mind, let's do it over dinner. That roast you prepared smells way beyond fabulous. I nearly forgot how well you cook.”

“Grandma Cora taught me all of her kitchen secrets.” Lani could barely speak for the tears that threatened to choke. She wouldn't allow Ryan to see her pain. She couldn't go there. It wouldn't do either one of them a bit of good. “And
that
tradition, I've made an effort to continue.”

“Yes,” Ryan skimmed the length of her neck before dipping lower, to stroke her arm from shoulder to elbow. Each touch branded with heat. “We've got a lot of catching up to do, sweetheart.”

~*~

“That was delicious beyond words.” Ryan patted his belly as he leaned back from the table. The rich, delicious aroma of brown gravy wafted from the serving dish at the center of the table while coffee finished percolating in the carafe on the counter. Even last night's catered meal at the auction didn't hold a candle to Lani's home-cooking. “I'm speechless, Lani.”

“Well, that's a first.” She took his soiled plate, added it to hers, and carried both to the sink. “But I hope you saved room for some apple pie and coffee.”

“In a little bit, when this settles. But sit for a minute. Talk to me.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned back to face him. “Isn't that what we've been doing?”

“Small talk doesn't count. I want to know what's in here”—He splayed a hand across his chest, and then pointed to hers—“what's in your heart.”

“I don't share that with just anybody.”

“I didn't think you considered me just anybody.”

“Perhaps at one time I didn't, but now…” Her gaze was guarded, her lips tightly pursed as she brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

“What changed your mind?”

“You stopped coming around, Ryan. You stopped coming to see—coming here.” She drew a pair of mugs from the cabinet to the right of the sink and set them on the counter before lifting the coffee carafe from its stand and filling them. “I thought we shared something. I thought…”

“What did you think, Lani?” Chair legs scraped against linoleum as Ryan stood. “Please tell me.”

“I think you should go now. It's getting late.”

“I don't want to go.”

“But I
want
you to go.”

“Is that what you want, Lani...what you really want?” He crossed to her, wanting nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her. But, unsure of the reaction that might garner, he stopped short.

“Right now it is.”

“And tomorrow?” He skimmed a finger along the length of her arm, encouraged when she didn't back from the touch. “What will you want then?”

“I honestly don't know.”

“Fair enough.” Reluctantly, Ryan broke contact. He turned to gather his soiled glass and silverware from the table, along with the napkin he'd used and crumpled. He set the glassware in the sink and tossed the napkin into the trash as he willed his voice to steady. “I'll go now but I'll be back tomorrow. There's still work to do here.”

“But tomorrow is Sunday.”

“After church, then.” He pushed in his chair before crossing the room to stand before her. “Think on things, Lani, and if you don't mind too much, save me a piece of that apple pie. It smells like heaven.”

Ryan grabbed his jacket from the chair back and slipped his arms through the sleeves, fighting the urge to kiss her. He stood, reluctant to leave and yet already anticipating tomorrow's return. He had work to do here…much work…and it wasn't all about improving the structural integrity of the house. He owed Lani an explanation for his actions that long-ago Christmas Eve, and tomorrow just might prove the perfect time to share his heart and lay his cards on the table. He prayed she didn't trump his hand.

6

“How are you doing today, Mrs. Wexell?” Lani asked as she watched the older woman shuffle through the door of Styles and Smiles.

Mrs. Wexell carried her cane with her today; the cold, damp weather most likely irritating her arthritic joints. “I'm as well as can be expected, dear. And you?”

“Better than I deserve.” Lani set aside the bottles of styling products that she was using to stock a glass shelf. Lights twinkled from where Chloe had strung them above the shelves, adding a warm glow to the display. “Is everything OK with your hair? Do you need a touch-up or do-over?”

“Do I look like I need a touch-up?” Mrs. Wexell arched one thin eyebrow. “Or a do-over?”

“No.” Lani laughed. “But I'm not used to seeing you on Monday.”

“I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?” Mrs. Wexell crossed slowly over to the counter. “Actually, I came to buy a gift certificate for Jill.”

“Oh, where is she?”

“She's working at the jewelry shop. I couldn't very well ask her to drive me here so I could buy her Christmas gift, could I?”

“I suppose not. That would spoil the surprise.”

“Exactly, so, I recruited a different chauffeur.” She leaned on her cane and bent toward the counter with a wink. “And he's certainly a tall drink of water, don't you think?”