Christmas Comes to Main Street (11 page)

He realized with a start that he hadn't bothered to charge his cell phone since it had run out of juice last night. No doubt emails were pouring in—work didn't stop for him on weekends or days off. He supposed he'd have to check in eventually. But today, he had to admit he was looking forward to the promise of a quiet week in Briar Creek, without the rush of energy he felt back in the city. Each day that he was away from it, his anxiety lessened, as did the fear that it would all go away if he took a step back.

His life would never be like the one he'd come from. He'd made damn sure of that.

Casually, he walked to the front window just in time to see Kara coming down the sidewalk, holding a white box no doubt filled with those delicious snowflake cookies, the pom-pom on her hat wiggling in the wind. Her eyes darted to the house and she stopped at the base of the front path, pulling in a sigh that rolled through her shoulders, before finally approaching.

Nate pulled back from the window. His aunt was busy prepping croissant dough for tomorrow morning's breakfast. Kara could just put the cookies on the dining room console as she'd done before, but what fun would that be?

He wanted to see her, he realized. He wanted to talk with her. Wanted to know her. Wanted to believe she was different than all the others he'd known like her before.

He tensed, as he always did when he thought of his past. She was an attractive girl, and he felt a spark between them, but he needed to be wary around her, just in case.

“Hello,” he said, grinning, when she pushed through the door. She looked especially pretty today, with cheeks pink from the cold.

Kara's eyes widened a notch as she began stomping the snow off her boots. “Here are your cookies,” she said, handing him the box. Her gaze trailed over the big tree in the corner. “I can see you've been busy,” she observed.

“That's just a preview of what's to come.” Nate resisted the urge to pop the lid on the box and take a taste of one of her creations. He hadn't yet joined his aunt for the holiday tea, but this afternoon he just might. Roving his gaze over Kara, he said, “Feeling the heat of competition?”

“If I know your aunt, she's not going to make this easy for me.” Kara shook her head as her eyes darted around the lobby. “I suppose I'd better get back to the bakery and roll up my sleeves.”

Nate's pulse skipped a beat, and before he could process what he was doing, he reached out and set a hand on her arm. She turned to him, brow knit, mouth lightly parted in question, her lips so plump and her cheeks so pink from being outside, he couldn't stop staring at her. “Don't go yet.” He swallowed hard, wondering if he'd overstepped, and realizing he was still holding on to her arm, finally dropped it. “I mean, stay and warm up by the fire for a few minutes at least. You look so cold.” Her blue eyes were bright and clear as they locked with his, and the flush in her cheeks darkened a shade.

She hesitated before her mouth curved slowly. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to stay for a few minutes. It's one of the coldest days we've had so far this year.”

“Just don't let me catch you scoping out the competition,” Nate joked, feeling his shoulders relax.

Her smile came a little easier. “It wouldn't change my vision. I know exactly what I have planned.”

“Already?” Nate couldn't help but admire her tenacity. He settled into an armchair near the fire, just opposite Kara, but still, they were hardly alone. A few guests sat together on the love seat and others at a small table near the front window.

It was better that way, he told himself. There were many reasons not to fall for Kara, the least of which being that he was just passing through town.

“Christmas is only ten days away,” she pointed out. “And the judging is held on Christmas Eve.”

Ten days. And then he'd be back in Boston. On his way into Briar Creek, he was already counting down the hours, but now, the time seemed fleeting and all too brief.

“So it is,” he said. “You like a little healthy competition then?”

“More like I like the sound of the grand prize,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That's what made me decide to enter.”

“And here I thought it was my wager,” he said.

“Oh, your wager is still on,” she said. She held his gaze, her cheeks blushing.

Nate smiled. “Good. I could use a home-cooked meal. And trust me, you don't want anything I'd whip up.”

Kara laughed. “Oh, so now I'll be cooking the dinner?”

“Why not? You clearly know your way around a kitchen. I can handle the buttons on the microwave. It stops there.”

“Well, there happen to be a few excellent restaurants in town,” she replied. “I'll make the reservation in your name this afternoon.”

“That confident, are you?” Nate asked evenly.

Kara's brow pinched slightly and the tone suddenly shifted. He'd hit a nerve, drawing on his earlier suspicions that she might not just be as sure of herself as he'd first thought.

“I'll do my best,” she said through a smile. “That's all any of us can do. Still, it would be nice to win. I suppose you've heard about the prize money?”

Nate narrowed his eyes. This was a strange comment, coming from her. Still, he shrugged. “I have. My aunt was sure to mention it.”

“Well, it's exciting. And I'm hoping it will help me get into the Christmas spirit, too.”

“And here I thought you were just bursting with good tidings already,” Nate replied. He eyed her lazily. She was still tucked into her puffy red coat, her hat still resting on her head, but her mittens sat on her lap as she held her hands out toward the fire. They were pink and cold looking, and he had an urge to lean forward and knead each digit through his hands, warm her from the outside in.

“I suppose I haven't had as much time to enjoy the holidays as I'd like this year.” She glanced wistfully into the dining room. “The holiday tea is always such a treat. I'll be sad to miss out this year. If only I wasn't so busy.”

With a resigned smile, she began pulling on her mittens and stood. A knot of disappointment landed square in his gut. She was here and gone all too soon. And all he had to look forward to for the rest of the day was decorating this old house.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow then,” she said, edging toward the door.

Tomorrow. He liked the sound of that.

E
ven though the bakery was officially closed on Mondays, Kara had gone in just before sunrise to get an early start on her gingerbread house entry for the Holiday House contest. She'd decided to make the house in the shape of her own childhood home, the one where she'd shared so many wonderful Christmas memories with her family, capturing a moment in time when she was the happiest. After closing the shop the day before, she'd drawn the pattern out on parchment paper, and by early morning all the pieces of gingerbread had been baked and cooled. The designs would take the longest, but if she worked steadily on them each day, she was sure she could accomplish what she'd set out to do.

Kara looked at the drawing she'd made and sighed. If only she could go in back time, even just for a day. She'd do anything to wake up on Christmas again with that unmatchable sense of possibility and run into her parents' bedroom. What wouldn't she give to sit around the breakfast table in her flannel pajamas, sipping hot cocoa while her father poured coffee and flipped pages in his newspaper? It was so long ago, but somehow, at this time of year, it still felt like yesterday.

Christmas had never been the same since her dad had died. The first few years were the worst, even though their mother tried to make it special for them and not show her sadness. She had
The Nutcracker
to keep her busy, and now, as an adult, Kara understood why it meant so much to her. It wasn't just the perfectionist in her, or the proud businesswoman; it was that her annual show was the perfect distraction, the best way to fill a part of her heart that was missing.

Kara smiled at the drawing, knowing she had to capture that moment of pure joy. Children running down the stairs, a tree surrounded by glittering presents, Dad at the table, sipping coffee.

Deciding she could take a break for a few hours, Kara put on her coat, hat, and boots and grabbed her skates from the closet in the small office off the back of the kitchen. The walk to the town square was short, and the sun was shining, casting long shadows on the roof of the white gazebo at its center. Main Street B&B stood proudly at the far end, looking even more stately than usual in its Christmas décor. Kara couldn't help but look for some subtle changes, something new that might have been added since her visit yesterday, but it would seem all the magic was happening inside, not out… at least so far.

She craned her neck to get a better view of the side of the house when she spotted him, her heart giving a little jump at the image. Nate came around the path, sprinkling salt on the bricks with a large shovel. She hesitated when she saw him, wondering if she should keep going, get to the rink before it filled up, but as she watched him push his shovel into the bag of salt again and continue his work, she had to grin. He was a nice guy, really. And a handsome one, too. That much was undeniable. He had a hard shell, one that wasn't common in these parts, but under it, she suspected, was a good heart. Not every nephew would give up his Christmas vacation to cater to an eccentric aunt—it was no wonder Mrs. Griffin sang his praises far and wide.

She walked a little closer, cutting to the edge of the green instead of winding left as she would have to get to the skating rink, and waited for a moment to see if he would look up. He seemed to be grumbling something under his breath with each scoop, something about “no good deed,” and Kara couldn't help but laugh to herself. Mrs. Griffin certainly was putting the poor guy to work.

Looking up, he grinned at her before she'd even had the chance to lift her mittened hand into a wave. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, resting his hands on the handle of the shovel. It was a small gesture, but the moment he was taking to give her his full attention sent a little flutter through her stomach. It had been a long time since a man had paid such notice, and even longer since one this handsome had done so.

Men like Nate didn't pop up in life. At least, not often enough.

“Long enough to see that you're earning your keep.” Kara laughed. “Tell me, do you ever get a break?”

“I'm used to working all day,” Nate said. “I'm not sure if I'd know how to sit back and relax, to be honest. But to answer your question, no, I haven't taken a break since arriving here. It would seem my aunt had plans for me from the moment she knew I was coming.”

“You're good to her,” Kara said gently.

Nate gave a modest shrug. “Not good enough. I feel bad that I haven't visited before. Life gets busy.”

Kara nodded. He could say that again. Soon, Molly would be back in Boston, and Kara knew she'd be kicking herself for not having been able to properly enjoy this visit more. This afternoon they were going to look at invitations together—that was something—and after, they'd have dinner while their mother was at dance rehearsals. Still, the passing of time was always on her mind at this time of year. And by next year, who knew… maybe Molly would be spending the time with her new husband's family.

“I'm headed over to the pond,” Kara said, gesturing to the end of the town square where the seasonal rink had been constructed. “You're welcome to join me if you want.”

Her heart sped up as she waited for him to consider her offer. It wasn't like her to be so forward with men, but Nate wasn't like any other men. He was a friend, sort of, and he wasn't a potential boyfriend or anything. He was a visitor, who would be gone all too soon.

She told herself she was just being friendly. After all, the poor guy needed a little fun, and he didn't know anyone else…

Still, she couldn't deny the bubble that swelled in her belly when he grinned a little wider and said, “Sure.”

“Great,” she said, managing to keep her tone casual. “They rent skates if you don't have any.”

“Let me just tell my aunt where I'm going so she doesn't call the police and report me missing or anything.” Nate appeared to be only half joking. “Sometimes she forgets I'm not ten years old anymore,” he explained ruefully before disappearing through the front door.

Kara took a quick minute to pull her lip gloss from her pocket and swipe it over her lips. She smoothed her ponytail and readjusted her hat and told herself that she was being wholly ridiculous. So he was cute. So he was very cute. Lots of men were cute. It was just that none of them had made her feel that spark before.

A few moments later, Nate appeared at the door again, clutching something thick and wooly in his hands. “She insisted I'd need this,” Nate said, crossing the street to meet her. In the winter sunlight, his eyes appeared lighter than usual, a pale gold, set behind thick brows. She took in that wide grin and the square jaw, and okay, she swooned a little.

Kara inspected the red and white wooly item in his hands. She could have sworn it was made of angora. “Is that a… woman's hat?” she asked, clasping her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Nate glanced back at the house and then shoved it onto his head. Santa's jolly face smiled back at her, almost more distracting than Nate's wicked grin. “Come on,” he said, taking her by the arm. “I'll take it off once I'm out of sight.”

The red yarn was woven with tinsel that reflected off the sunlight as they crunched through the snow, forgetting the shoveled path in their quest. Nate waited until he was safely beyond the gazebo to pull it off. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “I think this would look better on you.”

“Oh, but I already have my hat,” she demurred, patting her pom-pom.

“That you do,” he said, his eyes roving her face, spreading a tingle of warmth all down her belly. “But something tells me you could wear this hat and somehow still look cute.”

Kara blushed and looked down at the snow, blinking away the compliment as she stared at her boots, the tips of which were cozily close to his. He was a smooth talker, maybe even a little bit of a flirt. Better not to read too much into these things…

“The skate rental stand is just over there,” Kara said, pointing to the wooden shed used for storing boots. She settled herself onto a bench while Nate went to get skates, watching the skaters as she slid off her boots. In the center of the ice, a teenage girl was showing off a camel spin, finishing with a grand flourish that no doubt grabbed the attention of the hockey players down at the end of the rink, trying their best to look like they hadn't been watching. Kara shook her head, grinning, and began tightening her skate laces.

“Nice skates.” Nate's slow, deep voice spread a tingle over her as he came to sit beside her. “Do you come here much?”

“Not as often as I'd like,” Kara admitted. “When I was younger, I came every weekend. More on school breaks.”

“Then you must be good,” Nate said, grinning.

“Good enough,” Kara said. She looked at him warily. “Why? You're not going to challenge me to something again, are you?”

He laughed, a rich, booming sound that echoed through the brittle winter air. “No. I'll be lucky to stand up without falling on my face,” he said.

“That won't be anything new for us, will it?” Kara grinned as she stood. She held out her hand. “Come on, last one on the ice buys hot chocolate afterward.”

Nate hadn't been planning on holding Kara's hand, no matter how good it felt in his own, despite the layers of gloves he wished he could peel away. His feet wobbled as he hit the ice, and he felt the slip on his blades before he'd even taken his first stroke, but Kara was patient, walking him through it, no hint of amusement noticeable in those piercing blue eyes.

“I didn't do this much as a kid,” he said after they'd successfully made the first lap.

“Growing up here, it's what we all did,” Kara said. “Well, except my mom. She runs the dance studio, and she was always too afraid of breaking a limb.” She laughed, but her eyes went flat as a man and little girl passed them.

Her mouth turned downward as she watched them skate, her eyes never leaving the little girl, who giggled and squealed as her father picked her up and twirled her around.

“My dad was the skater in the family. Hockey,” she explained, slanting him a glance. “But he loved the ice. I did, too. Still do.”

“Does he still get out here much?”

Kara looked momentarily startled. She paused before saying, “Oh, no. My dad died when I was ten.”

Nate stopped skating, nearly tripping over his toe pick. He hadn't expected that one. His aunt Maggie wasn't shy when it came to the local gossip mill, and this was one thing she hadn't mentioned. He was suddenly filled with a deep shame for assuming Kara had always had it easy in life. He looked at her, frowning. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Kara shrugged, but he could see the pain in her eyes as she looked far out to the sledding hill, where kids were propelling themselves down the steep slope on inner tubes. “It's been a long time. When I come here, though… it's like he's with me, you know? Like he's sitting over there on the bench, watching me skate. Like he's holding my hand.”

Nate glanced down at the hand that still held his and gave it a little squeeze. “Life is unfair,” he said, shaking his head.

“It is,” Kara agreed, “but I've learned to live in the moment. Focus on what I have. Enjoy it while I can.”

Nate thought of the time he was spending with his aunt and nodded. “It's easy to get tripped up by things that don't really matter.”

“Like the Holiday House contest?” Kara gave him a knowing smile. “Although I enjoy our town's traditions. It's part of our culture, part of our community. It's tight-knit here. I like that.”

Nate didn't say anything. Tight-knit was something he was all too familiar with, but no matter how close a community, there was always an outsider, always someone left out or cast aside. Someone different from the others.

Something a girl like Kara could never understand.

“Come on,” she said, releasing his hand and skating quickly away from him. He watched her long legs, covered in skintight black leggings, move and sway with each graceful glide, the way her thighs extended, the muscles taut as she expertly maneuvered herself over the mirror-like surface. She stopped and turned, her smile contagious as she waved him toward her. “Five laps. Ready? Go.”

She was off like a shot before he'd even had a chance to process what she was saying, and he shuffled his feet beneath him, knowing it was probably a losing fight, but one he was willing to try for, because there was something about Kara he just couldn't resist.

Kara accepted her hot chocolate with a smile and took a seat at a table under a heat lamp, choosing a chair that gave her a view of the skaters on the rink. “I think I'll make a weekly habit of coming here,” she announced, smiling serenely at the view. “It's important to give yourself a little downtime every once in a while. It helps to keep things in balance.”

Not that he would know. For as long as Nate could remember, he'd had his nose to the books or a computer, or he'd holed himself in the school art studio, creating alternate realities through a brush and canvas. He'd barely looked up, afraid of what would happen when he did. But now that he'd risked it, he had to admit he was enjoying himself. More than he'd ever thought possible.

“How's the hot chocolate?” he asked as he unzipped his coat. It was surprisingly warm under the heat of the lamp, and both of them had worked up a sweat on the ice, even if Nate's excursion had been in trying to keep himself from falling rather than getting around.

“Almost as good as the one I make,” Kara said. She set her mug down and glanced at him from under her lashes. “I've been meaning to thank you… for suggesting that I include coffee on my menu. I don't know how I could have missed that.”

“It's easy,” Nate said, shrugging. “You're too close to the business to see what areas need improvement. And you were probably so focused on making sure your cookies were just right that you overlooked the drinks. It happens.”