Highlander for the Holidays (20 page)

Ian reached out but waited for her to place the stick in his hand, and quietly released the breath he’d been holding when he didn’t feel anything but the insubstantial weight of its warm, smooth wood. He ran a thumb over one of the unsanded burls. “Roger didn’t have a more femininelooking stick you could have chosen? Or any with animals carved in them? Hand-carved sticks are popular.”

She took it back and clutched it to her chest protectively. “He wanted me to have this one. Who is he, Ian?” she whispered. “Who is Roger AuClair de Keage?”

Not exactly sure how to answer her, Ian pulled Jessie into his embrace—walking stick and all. “He’s an old hermit who lives up on the other side of the lake and usually prefers his own company to others.”

“Have you ever actually met him?”

Shrugging to disguise his shudder, Ian leaned back just enough to smile at her. “Once, not long after I returned from my last tour in Afghanistan. I was hiking the back side of TarStone, and this wild-haired old man ambled into my campsite one evening and made himself at home. He told me a tall tale while he ate the entire rack of trout I’d cooked, and then he broke out a bottle of the best Scotch I’ve ever had the privilege to taste. And when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.”

“Did . . . did you wonder if you might have only imagined him?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

“Actually, I did,” he said with a chuckle. “But between my belly rumbling from missing supper and the roaring hangover I had, I figured he must have been real. He’s not anyone you need fear, Jessie. Tell me, what was Toby’s reaction to him?”

Her gaze went to her pet lying on his bed beside the hearth, then returned to him with a lopsided smile. “Toby thinks Roger is Santa Claus.”

Ian kissed the tip of her nose then leaned back again. “Don’t hide your stick in your bedroom, Jess; carry it when you go out just like you did your cane. Roger’s right; everyone around here is used to seeing people with walking sticks, as the Appalachian Trail is nearby and hikers come through town year-round. And many residents use them as well, especially in the winter.”

With that he kissed her again, this time on the lips, and silently sighed in relief when she relaxed against him. She opened her mouth, but when her tongue did a bit of delicious exploring, Ian knew he was in trouble because he didn’t want to go home.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “I need to leave.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Are you okay about Roger?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“And will you come to the resort tomorrow afternoon? You can help out on the tube run,” he added when she took a little too long to answer.

“I . . . I’ll be there.”

He kissed her forehead then rested his own against it again. “Bring your walking stick, but put it in your car before you come in, okay? We don’t need any of the little heathens getting hold of it, thinking it would make a wonderful sword.”

“Why do you call them little heathens? Your mom does, too.”

“Any child who hasn’t reached puberty is a little heathen,” he said with a chuckle. “And when they do, they become hellions. Or didn’t you witness the chaos in the lobby today?” He finally straightened away, but seemed unable to take his arms from around her. “I believe Aunt Grace is the one who started using the term
little heathen
about the time she had her fourth of seven daughters.”

Jessie’s eyes widened. “Megan has
six
sisters?”

He finally managed to let her go. “Push me out the door, Jess.”

She suddenly gave him a sassy smile as she grabbed his arm and started dragging him across the room. “Just so you know, I’m only doing this for your own good,” she said, letting him go to grab his jacket off the peg and shoving it at him. She leaned on her stick to bend down and get his boots, and then shoved them into his arms as well. “I promise, you’ll thank me in the morning,” she added with a perfectly straight face as she opened the door and pushed him outside. “Ian,” she said when he started toward the steps to put on his boots. “Thank you for this afternoon and evening; for the ATV ride, for taking me to get a Christmas tree and doughnuts, and . . . and for rescuing me from myself.”

“It was my pleasure, Jess. Good night.”

He sat down to the sound of the softly closing door and slid on his boots, and without bothering to lace them headed out the neatly shoveled pathway. But he stopped when he reached the road and stood staring back at the house, wishing he could have been uncivilized just long enough to ask Jessie how she’d gotten those scars. But, he thought with a sigh as he started down the road, he really didn’t want to continue spending his evenings in a sparsely furnished, drafty, empty old cabin.

Ian rubbed his chest where it felt a little bruised from the blow he’d taken earlier at the Christmas tree farm, guessing he’d have to find some other way to learn what had happened in Atlanta four years ago, since for the first time in almost a year he also didn’t want to continue spending his nights on the mountain.

JESSIE SAT ON THE TOP STEP OF HER PORCH WRESTLING
with the tangled string of Christmas lights, one second away from throwing the damn thing in the snow. She’d bought two fifty-bulb sets at the tree farm yesterday along with a thick pine garland, and had come outside this morning determined to put them up. She wanted the lights running so that after helping out at the resort this afternoon she could arrive home to a brightly decorated house. But so far all she’d managed to do was nearly give Toby a heart attack when she’d lost her balance while standing on the railing trying to nail up the pine garland, and then fallen off with a yelp of surprise. Toby had scrambled down the steps with an equally startled yelp, whining frantically as he plowed through the snow that was deeper than he was tall, and then licked her face as Jessie had lain there laughing.

It had taken ten minutes for them to help each other wade back to the pathway, and another ten minutes for Jessie to drag Toby’s bed and a blanket out onto the porch, get him to lie down so she could cover him up, and kiss his shivering head with the promise that she would be more careful. Then she’d been extra careful taking the lights out of their package, but instead of unwinding nicely, the damn things had turned into an unbelievably intricate knot. Getting more frustrated by the minute because she really wanted to impress Ian by putting up the lights herself, Jessie unbuttoned her coat, reached under her fleece, and adjusted the silicone blob that passed as her boob when it started making her itch.

She caught the tangle of lights slipping off her lap, and with a heavy sigh sat staring through the trees across the street at the frozen lake. She really wished now that she’d had reconstructive surgery on her left breast. Merissa had been the first to suggest it three years ago, but had quickly dropped the subject when Jessie had explained that she couldn’t get past the horror of having another knife pierce her body, not even a scalpel trying to make her whole again. And even though her brother-in-law, Brad, had gently been urging her to have the surgery over the last two years, finally persuading her to go see a reconstructive surgeon—even going to hold her hand when she’d finally given in—she still hadn’t been able to do it. But now she couldn’t help but wonder whether, if she had had the surgery, it would be easier for her to consider getting naked with Ian.

He was right; scars were really nothing short of little miracles, and she could probably find the courage to make love to him if a few scars were all she had to worry about. But missing half a breast touched on the very core of her femininity. Just the thought of seeing horror or disappointment—or worse, pity—in Ian’s beautiful green eyes when he saw the puckered remains of what used to be a really impressive boob was even more terrifying than going under a scalpel.

Maybe she could order a sexy teddy or something equally naughty to wear—and keep on—in bed. Because Merissa was right: A few heated kisses certainly weren’t going to keep the man interested for very long.

Jessie felt her side vibrate with a jaunty tune that signaled she had a text, and reached in her coat pocket for her cell phone. Seeing it was from Merissa, she opened the text with a smile—only to have the smile disappear as she read the message.

Brad cornered me work said wants send xmas card so gave him yur address

Jessie sighed even as she smiled at Merissa’s shorthand texting, and started to slide the phone in her pocket when it suddenly started vibrating again.

Hey sorry he caught me busy & didnt think ;-( got idea he might visit u sorry call u soon ;-)

Jessie blew out another sigh and texted her back—using capitals and punctuation—telling Mer she still loved her. She slid the phone in her pocket with a snort and stood up, guessing that would teach her not to answer Brad’s calls or texts, since it was apparent the poor man was having a harder time dealing with her leaving Atlanta than Merissa was.

Maybe she
should
give Roger her cell phone and let the old goat deal with Brad.

Jessie set the tangled lights inside the bag with the other box then grabbed her walking stick, which was leaning against the house. “Have you warmed up enough to go see if we have any mail, Tobes?” she asked, looking at her watch and then at her empty driveway. Her car was still in the TarStone parking lot because Ian had brought her directly home in the ATV, saying he didn’t want to get caught with a stolen Christmas tree while the thief innocently drove herself home. “Damn, we only have an hour before Ian picks us up. Wait, I know,” she said, heading inside the house, grabbing her purse, and shoving Toby’s leash into it. “We’ll start walking and catch him on his way in.”

She locked the door, then used her stick to push the Christmas lights out of sight behind the railing, but hesitated. “Hey, you want to see just how magical this stick is? Watch this, Tobes. Abracadabra!” she said, pointing it at the lights in the bag. “I hereby command you to unravel.” She moved the tip of the stick in an arc across the front of her porch. “And nail yourself up!”

Toby shot out from under his blanket and nearly fell down the steps, he was in such a hurry to get away, and Jessie burst out laughing. “You big lug,” she chuckled, heading after him. “It’s a plain old ordinary walking stick, not a magic wand.”

Jessie gave Toby the signal to heel and hiked her tote-sized purse up on her shoulder as they started toward the main road. “Have you noticed how steady my legs have been all week, Tobes?” she asked, picking up her pace. “And I haven’t had a flashback since the night we arrived. But I figure a bad case of nerves at finally getting here is what triggered that one. And I probably overdid it by going to Pete’s and dancing with a stranger and—”

Jessie reached in her pocket when her phone gave a loud ring that told her this was a call instead of a text. She read the caller ID and stopped walking. “Damn,” she muttered even as she answered. “Hey, Brad, what’s up?”

“Where in hell have you been? I’ve been calling and texting you all week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but reception is spotty up here in the mountains. The only reason you got me now is because I’m in Greenville. So, how are you doing?”

“I’ve been going out of my mind with worry, Jess,” he said, his tone turning plaintive. “And the question is, how are
you
doing? Merissa told me you purchased a house, so it sounds like you really do intend to stay there.”

“Merissa mentioned you stopped by the hospital,” Jessie said as she started walking again. “And yeah, I’m staying. I love it here, Brad; this place is beautiful.”

A heavy sigh came over the phone. “I miss you, Jess, and I really don’t like you living so far away,” he said gently. “Who’s going to help me get through the holidays?”

“I told you to go to Bermuda or St. Barts or take a cruise over Christmas. Just don’t stay in that big empty house and mope.”

There was a short pause, then, “Or I could spend Christmas in Maine with you.”

Jessie stopped walking again. “Um . . . my parents are coming for Christmas.”

“Great,” Brad said, suddenly cheery. “I’d love to see your dad again. How is Jacob? I’ve been meaning to contact him about building an addition on my gallery. And Maureen,” he quickly added. “How’s your mom doing?”

Jessie gave a silent sigh and started walking again. “They’re both doing well, and like you, they’re still waiting for me to come to my senses.”

“That’s because, like me, they love you. Look, I’ll be in Boston on Thursday, and there’s no reason I can’t just rent a car and drive up to Maine. It can’t be over . . . what, a two-hour drive?”

“Try six,” she said with a laugh.

There was another pause, and then, “I’d really like to see your new house and the area you’re living in, Jess. It would make me feel better about your being so far away all by yourself. I can head on up there Friday, or maybe even Thursday if my meeting ends early. I can stay at that resort in your brochure,” he rushed on before she could answer. “And maybe I’ll even try skiing again. I miss you, Jess.”