Believe (7 page)

When we fall apart, he gives me another puzzled look, shakes his head, runs a hand through his short hair, and says, "I'm sorry. I have no idea why I did that."

My mouth drops open. That might have been the single best kiss of my life and he's apologizing for it? "You have no idea why you did what?" I say, dropping my voice to an angry whisper. "Why you kissed me? Well, figure it out, buddy, before you see me again."

I poke him sharply in the chest before stalking back across the lobby. That's when I notice a group of elderly women watching us from the nearby sitting room. Those that still have decent hearing probably caught most of our little spat. When they see that I'm watching them, they all applaud, causing me to blush.

One woman fans herself as she calls across the lobby, "Don't be too hard on him, girlie. That was one heck of a kiss!"

Nick's laughter chases me back to the safety of my grandparents. I don't mention the kiss to them.

 

I know I told Nick to essentially figure out his head and heart before calling me again, but why do boys always take that so literally? Not that my experience is so vast, but still.

Nick has been absolutely MIA for three full days. My grandmother has suggested several times that I call him, but I'm not the one who initiated that soul-searing kiss and then apologized for it. I've never been insulted like that before, and I sure as heck expect Nick to come calling to me, not the other way around.

That's why when the doorbell rings an hour after dinner, I'm surprised to find Nick standing sheepishly on the front step. A quick glance at Gran tells me she knew he was coming. Gee thanks, I so love being clued in on my own love life.

“Would you like to go for a sleigh ride?”

For a moment I think Gran has gotten to him and convinced him for me, but then I see Nick gesture to the front lawn, and I check myself. Duh. Of course he doesn't know. I haven't even brought up the conversation, save the initial embarrassing marriage proposal. I wonder if he thinks about that like I do.

When I peer past Nick into the frosty night air, I see a small horse-drawn sleigh sitting next to Gran's SUV. A beige horse adorned with a fancy red and green harness paws the ground, his breath making frosty puffs in the night air.

“You really go all out with this Christmas crap, don't you?” I mutter even as I head to the closet to grab my coat. Nick just chuckles. “Gran, Nick's taking me for a sleigh ride.”

“Oh, good,” Gran says. She appears around the kitchen door, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “I was wondering when—oops.”

Her cheeks shine faintly pink as she realizes she's been caught. “Well have a nice time. Dress warmly now. Bring her back early, Nick. I think the weatherman said a storm is coming.”

She shuts the door firmly behind us before I have a chance to change my mind. I'm still waiting for Nick to say something as he helps me into the sleigh and climbs in after me. While he tucks the blankets around us, I give his leg a little kick to get his attention. With a cocky grin, he settles back and takes the reins. Still, he hasn't said a word. My irritation level rises. I'm debating what scathing remark to make when Nick laughs, just a low, soft sound that I might have missed if I hadn't been sitting next to him.

My irritation boils over. “What? What's so funny?”

With a quick flip of the reins, the horse takes off at a leisurely trot. “You.”

“I'm funny? Or just fun to make fun of?”

All humor leaves Nick's face, which I watch closely out of the corner of my eye. “I'm not making fun of you.”

Even though I want to dispute this point, he seems so sincere I let it drop for a minute. We ride along in silence save for the runners of the sled slicing through the freshly fallen snow. The night has a soft, velvety feeling to it, the way December nights are at home. The wind whispers around us, and as if queued by a higher power, a soft snow starts to fall. The whole thing reeks of romance.

“You are funny, though.” Nick's voice startles me out of my disgusted contemplation of the romantic atmosphere of the night.

“Huh?” I shift awkwardly away from him and retuck the blanket around my legs. I'm not sure I want to hear the explanation.

We turn down a path that has deep ruts from heavy snowmobile use and once the turn has been completed, Nick gives me a thoughtful look. “Like the night we met. I mean, I get that it was a setup and all, my mom couldn't stop talking about it, but you proposed to me.”

I groan. “Why did you have to bring that up? That's the single most humiliating moment of my life. And I didn't propose to you.”

“You did,” Nick says. “I mean, I know I'm irresistible, but what was that all about?”

Looking away, I try to decide if this is the time to tell him. The snow starts to fall harder, and the horse trots faster, tossing his head. I guess it's now or never.

“You won't believe me.” As the words leave my mouth I regret opening that way.

Nick sighs. “Try me.”

How do I read that sigh? Floundering, I jump in and say, “We are betrothed.”

“What?” Nick barks a laugh that startles our horse, which pulls sharply to the right. The sleigh jolts hard, sending my chin crashing into Nick's shoulder. He corrects our course and turns to me. “Are you okay?”

Rubbing my chin, I nod even though I'm clearly not okay. And I don't mean my chin. Swallowing the fear rising in my throat, I say, “I mean it. We've been engaged since we were little. Well, I was barely born before my parents signed me up to be your wife.”

Nick must hear something in my voice because he gives me an incredulous look but doesn't immediately dispute my claim. “Okay. Let's say I decide to go with your story, why haven't my parents ever told me this before?”

“They aren't your real parents,” I say.

“Well, sure, they adopted me when I was a baby,” Nick replies. “So, you're saying that my birth parents did this betrothal thing. Does that even count?”

Digging for what to say, I think through all the truths I know about our situation. I wish I knew more, but all I can offer is what I know.

I wipe snow off my face. When did it start coming down like this? “It has to count, and I have to convince you that it does, or—well, I don't want to think what will happen if I fail.”

“Wow, this snow is really coming down,” Nick interrupts. “We're near my parents' cabin. Maybe we can wait out the storm there.”

“Okay.” My soft reply is lost in a gust of wind. I'm stung by Nick's refusal to discuss what I've told him thus far, which admittedly isn't much.

We deal with several more minutes of increasingly driving snow until Nick pulls the sleigh up in front of a cozy looking log cabin tucked back into the woods. I hadn't realized we were driving through the woods. Nick jumps out of the sleigh, deftly avoiding a snowdrift, and lands squarely in front of the door. He fishes a key out of his pocket and opens the door.

I stumble out after him, a little too annoyed to let him help me. Unfortunately for me, I'm not as graceful as Nick and I land with a splat in the snow. Cold seeps into my clothes, and even the normally magical waterproofing abilities of my coat don't hold up. I'm forced to accept Nick's hand as he struggles not to laugh.

Nick pulls me up onto the stoop beside him. “I'm just going to put Maizy in the barn.”

"I'm coming with you," I say.

Nick gives me a funny look and shrugs. "That's fine, but you're dripping wet. Don't you think you'd be more comfortable inside?"

I peer into the dark cabin and shake my head. Pitch black anything freaks me out. Shaking my head again, I take a step toward him. Nick sidesteps another snow bank. This time I manage not to get anything else wet save my already sopping wet boot. While I wait for Nick to unhitch the horse from the sleigh, I peer back at the cabin. Hopefully Elwyn isn't lurking in the dark somewhere waiting to give me more ultimatums. I follow Nick to the barn as he leads the horse inside.

The barn looks decrepit from the outside but the inside is modern and well maintained. Nick leads Maizy to a stall and proceeds to settle her in. Maybe I should offer to help. I mean, I've helped with the reindeer on more than one occasion, but how would I mention that to Nick without sounding all kinds of crazy? So rather than do anything, I just watch.

When he finishes, he leads me back across the yard to the cabin where he flips on several lights. The interior of the cabin floods with a warm glow and reveals no lurking elves. Relief flows through me. I grin at Nick, thankful his back is to me. He disappears down a short hall and then returns with a robe and several blankets.

Handing me the robe, he says, "Change out of your wet clothes. This is all we have, but it should work. I'm going to get a fire going. The snow is really coming down out there. Let's hope it lets up soon."

"Why? So you don't have to spend any more time than necessary with my craziness?" The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Instead of being annoyed or angry, a slow smile spreads across Nick's face. "I like your brand of crazy," he says. "For the record, I never called you crazy."

"We still have a lot to talk about." I plant my hands on my hips trying to stand my ground, but the effect is ruined as a sharp shiver races through me.

"Fine, we can talk after you change. The bathroom is the first door on the right."

I gather the robe in my arms, careful not to get any of it wet, and stalk down the hall to the bathroom. The tiny room is painted a garish shade of yellow and is decorated in an island parrot theme. Not what I would expect in a rustic cabin, but fun nonetheless.

Peeling my wet clothes off, I leave them in a heap on the bathroom floor. Rethinking that decision, I carefully pick them up one at a time and drape them over the side of the bathtub. Hopefully they'll be dry by the time the storm stops. I don't think Gran would understand my coming home in a bathrobe, no matter what my story.

When I emerge from the bathroom, a roaring fire crackles in the fireplace, and Nick is in the adjoining kitchen popping popcorn in the microwave. I pull the robe more tightly around me and settle in on the sofa.

"Hey," Nick calls from the kitchen, "sorry we don't have TV or anything. Mom and Dad like to come out here to recharge."

"No problem. I don't watch too much TV where I'm from."

"Yeah?" Nick returns to the living room with two cans of pop and the bowl of popcorn. He flops down on the opposite end of the sofa. "Tell me about it. Where you're from, I mean."

"Ummm…nah, you don't want to hear about that," I say, desperate to deflect attention from myself and my life away from this moment.

Nick grabs a handful of popcorn. "No, really. I'd love to hear more about it."

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly too dry. "Okay. Well, I'm from a place called the North Pole." I wait for him to laugh, but he just quirks an eyebrow and waits for me to continue. "My family, um, has its' own business. And—look, I can't do this. I know you won't believe me."

Nick takes a swig of his pop. “Let's talk about something else then. Tell me about your family.”

I force myself to relax, but still my fingers worry the braided edge of a throw pillow. Talking about my family could be tricky and dangerous. I might dissolve into a blubbering mess of tears. On the other hand, opening up might be the intro I need to fill Nick in on this whole mess.

“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word, stalling to give myself more time to think. “What do you want to know?”

Nick shrugs. “Anything.”

“That's a lot. Where to start?” I tuck my feet up under me on the couch, carefully rearranging the robe around my knees. My mind flickers to the fact that I'm not wearing very much underneath. Modesty is key here. “I have seven younger sisters, and yet all of us are very distant. How's that?”

“That doesn't tell me much.” Nick raises an eyebrow and drapes an arm across the back of the couch. His hand is dangerously near to mine. Just a few more inches and our fingers will touch. I shiver in anticipation. He hasn't even mentioned our kiss, and yet I can't help but want another one. “Why aren't you close?”

I'm frozen in place, wanting to move my hand toward his but not wanting to make the first move. “Um? We're not—I've never really thought about it before. It's just always been that way, you know? My dad sort of discouraged us from being too chummy, I guess.”

“That's odd. Why would he do that?”

A harsh laugh breaks free from my throat startling both of us. “You've never met my dad. He's…well, I'd like to say evil, but really he's just a big old jerk. A corrupt jerk.”

“Are your parents still together?” Nick's fingers move infinitesimally closer to mine. I know they did. This conversation is getting hard to follow.

Forcing myself to focus, I say, “Absolutely. There's no way my mom would ever leave my dad. Besides, I'm not sure if it's even allowed.”

“Allowed?”

“Don't go there,” I snap “I'm not part of some weird cult, although my life is awfully weird at the moment. There are just…different rules that we live by where I come from. Can we stop talking about me now? Please? Why don't you tell me about your family?”

Nick's fingertips graze mine. The jolt of awareness nearly knocks me off the couch. I can hardly breathe. He seems to notice my reaction but doesn't comment. The only thing that tips me off is the crinkling around his eyes and the quirking upward of his lips.

“My family isn't all that big. Just me, my mom, and my dad. I'm adopted; my biological parents pretty much abandoned me.” His jaw clenches and his eyes cloud for a moment. “You already knew some of that, though. I guess your grandma told you. She's always been like a grandma to me. That's why I was so surprised when she said you were coming to visit,” Nick says.

My breath hitches and I'm afraid to talk. “You mentioned that before.” My voice sounds stilted. “But I told you—”

Nick catches my hand in his. “I know. Your dad.”

The pad of Nick's thumb massages my palm making coherent thought completely impossible, but I still manage to say, “Right. He's a jerk.”

I think he might kiss me. And, oh do I want him to kiss me. My stomach knots in anticipation. I manage to make myself look up into Nick's eyes. As I meet his gaze, I'm blown away by what I see in them: warmth, concern, desire, and maybe a hint of disbelief.

Swallowing against a dry throat, I try to say something. Nick grins showing his perfect, even white teeth. His smile is swoon worthy. Couple that with his laugh and you are sure to get your perfect Santa. The thought knocks the moment off kilter for me. Nick doesn't notice the change. Suddenly we are too close. The smell of the fireplace makes my head ache. My lack of decent clothing embarrasses me. I pull away, falling back against the sofa and crossing my arms over my chest.