Holiday Serenade, The (7 page)

“Give me a second to explain,” he said. “I understand that fear better after you told me about Dustin’s father.”

Right. The rich college kid who had date raped her and then suggested that the baby she’d conceived wasn’t his, that she’d lied about the whole thing.

Rhett set his cup aside, his eyes beseeching. “You’re terrified someone might learn about what happened to you and think you’re a victim. You’re also mortally afraid of what Dustin might think—totally understandable—and have chosen to protect him in ways I could never begin to understand. What I haven’t figured out is the root cause of all your fear, because it’s not just that. Once I do, I want to help you move forward and live from a place of happiness. I want that for you, Abbie.”

Confusion rained down on her like cold, icy sleet, making her shiver. This could not be borne. She shot to her feet. “I do live from a place of happiness,” she shot back, and then her breathing shattered, the asthma attack coming on so suddenly it blindsided her.

Rhett’s eyes widened for a moment before he raced out of the room. She stood up, fighting for oxygen, clawing at her throat.

She couldn’t
breathe.

God, please let her breathe.

When he ran back to her, her over–sized purse in his hands, he dumped its contents on the rug and sorted through it until he found her rescue inhaler. Then he pressed it to her mouth. Her hands clamped around his as she took that first puff. Then she gave herself a second one just to be sure. The mist coated her mouth, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on her breathing, trying to calm herself.

Rhett pulled her back to his chest and wrapped his arms around her ribs as if willing her to breathe.

It took five minutes for her to stabilize. By then, her head was buzzing, and the deep inner roar of tears was rushing up her throat. She shook her head. No, she would not cry.

This had happened before with him since his return, but never this bad.

He didn’t say anything as he held her, his caress as gentle as if he were holding a newborn kitten. The Christmas lights cast a white glow in the den, the only sound her exaggerated breathing. She concentrated on taking another inhale. And then another. Somehow, with his arms around her, she recovered faster, became stronger.

She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Leaning against him made her want to be enveloped in his body heat, his comfort.

She became aware of his cologne, the one she’d bought for him. Narciso Rodriguez Limited Edition. His breath on the back of her neck was what she noticed next—warm and sweet. Moving out of his arms seemed the best approach, and he didn’t fight her, although his hands tightened for a second before letting go.

“I’m sorry,” he said, edging away from her and shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “Can I get you anything? What can I do?”

Nothing
. The problem resided in her, and it was so bad it could steal even her breath away.

She shook her head. “I’m just going to…”

The bathroom seemed to be the safest spot to gather her emotions. When she was in better command of herself, she reemerged to find him pacing in front of the Christmas tree, ruffling his ash–blond hair. He froze when he saw her.

“You’re as white as my mama’s bedclothes on the clothesline every Sunday, Abbie,” he said.

She knew she looked like shit. Hadn’t the mirror told her? Plus, she looked defeated. And all because he’d called her out on the very thing even she couldn’t put her finger on.

The core of her fear.

“Rhett, I’m going to go,” she said in a shaky voice, hating that, hating herself. She walked forward and gathered her things back into her purse.

“Please let me drive you home.” His voice was hoarse, and when she gazed at him, his whole body was wound as tight as wind–up toy soldier.

“No, I can manage,” she responded as coolly as she could.

His hand reached out to her. “I know you can, but what if you have another spell and black out? Please, let me take you. Abbie, please.”

Three pleases from him in less than thirty seconds? “Okay. Mac and Dustin can pick up my car in the morning.”

His fingers stroked her arm before dropping loosely to his side. “Thank you for not fighting me on this.”

“I don’t have the strength right now, Rhett.” And God if the truth didn’t make her look away to hide the tears she felt in her eyes.

“I’ll get your coat.”

Then he came back and dressed her like she was a little kid. After he’d smoothed her hair away from her face and tucked her hat on, he scooped her up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he walked out of the room.

“You said you don’t have the strength. Let me do this. It’s little enough.” He snagged his keys from the entryway and shut the front door behind them.

“But your coat. And you didn’t lock the house.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he ground out. “Save your breath.”

And so she did…because deep down a part of her always feared another asthma attack would follow an episode this serious.

Fear.

There was that word again.

He drove slowly. The silence between them seemed eerie in the cold night. Even the quaint glow of Dare did little to raise her spirits.

She was in chaos again.

When he pulled into her driveway, he stopped her from reaching for the door. “Let me come around.”

“I’m fine,” she protested even though her whole body was still trembling.

“No, you’re not.”

He carried her to the front door and wouldn’t set her down until they were inside. The lights came on after he fumbled with the switches. He finally deposited her on the couch in the family room, and a part of her missed his warmth and the comfort when he stopped holding her. After gently tucking a purple throw around her, he turned on the Christmas tree and made her a fire.

“I’m calling Mac,” he told her, his hands tinged black from the newsprint he’d used to make the fire.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she told him, even though she knew it was probably a good idea. She didn’t want to be alone, and with this incident hovering between them, she couldn’t bear to be alone with
him
.

He tapped his phone and put it to his ear. “Hey, Mac.”

She couldn’t hear what he said since he wandered away. Instead she burrowed under the throw and continued to take deep breaths.

When he came back into the room, he sat down on the loveseat beside the couch. “I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing thickly, meeting her eyes. “It’s my fault.”

The guilt between then hung in the air like a soupy fog.

“No, it’s not. It’s mine. Rhett…”

And she heard that inner voice again.
Follow the star
.

Her eyes tracked to the silver star on top of their family tree. It winked at her, seeming to radiate a luminous light from another place, a light that uncovered more truth in her heart.

“Don’t give up on me,” she found herself saying in a whisper, feeling as broken in body as she did in sprit.

He sank to his knees in front of her.
“Never.”

When Mac arrived, he and Rhett conversed for a moment in the other room. Dustin nestled in close and wrapped his arm around her, worry written all over his still–changing face, now dotted with patches of stubble.

When Rhett returned, he walked over to the couch and stood there, shifting from one foot to the other. “You take care of yourself. Do you hear?”

She just nodded, watching as Mac slapped him on the back and he left, his head bowed as if in defeat.

Part of her wanted to call him back. But she didn’t.

And dammit if the reason wasn’t called Fear.

Chapter 6

F
or the next ten days Abbie didn’t see much of Rhett, although he was frequently at the hotel playing poker or meeting with Nancy to discuss his party. Mac had told her Rhett wanted her to be surprised by the decorations, so she kept out of the ballroom as the staff set up on the day of the party. Mac and Dustin told her they would meet her there, so she changed into her costume alone in their family suite. And made sure she didn’t head down until thirty minutes after the party started.

As she checked her makeup in the mirror by the door, a part of her started to worry. What in the heck was he being so secretive about anyway? Because she knew there was something. Wasn’t the costume thing an indication that this would not be a normal holiday party? He wouldn’t have legions of poker babes dressed up as Santa’s helpers, would he? Well, after what he’d told her about giving them up, she doubted it.

Still…

When she finally left their suite and found her way to the ballroom—first using her inhaler preemptively to treat the asthma he often inspired—her mouth fell open at the scene before her.

He’d created a magical winter wonderland. Him. Rhett Butler Blaylock. White netting dotted with miniscule white lights rippled like waves from the high ceiling, creating a magical sense of intimacy. Giant soldiers straight out of
The Nutcracker
flanked a small stage at the front. The servers were all dressed in winter white uniforms dotted with a gold insignia of The Grand Mountain Hotel, carrying silver trays filled with an array of succulent hors d’oeuvres and frosted crystal glasses of champagne. The music drifted through the room like a gentle breeze. Was that from
The Nutcracker,
too? It sure sounded like it, and it made her body want to sway and execute an arabesque.

About fifty people mingled around the ballroom. Some she recognized, like the parents from Dustin’s indoor soccer team, whom Rhett had come to know by attending games. Others were harder to identify because of their holiday–themed attire. Like the snowman with the big carrot for a nose and a black top hat. Someone clearly had found an impressive costume online—Dare didn’t sell that kind of stuff.

Rhett’s suggestion about costumes had raised her guard, so she’d chosen the least sexy outfit possible: Mrs. Claus, decked out in a curly white wig, silver spectacles, padding around the middle, and more blush than usual to create rosy cheeks.

Her new trio of friends approached her as soon as they spotted her, making her smile. Peggy wasn’t used to having female friends, but she’d become close to her sister–in–law, Meredith, and Meredith’s sister, Jill. They always asked Abbie to hang out on girls’ nights, and sometimes she did. Whereas Peggy and Abbie played the “straight man” role, Meredith was pretty down to earth, while Jill had a wicked streak of humor and a larger–than–life personality that was sometimes reminiscent of Rhett. It was nice to have some new friends.

Their costume choices perfectly captured their personalities. Abbie hadn’t wanted to talk about the party or what she was wearing, so they hadn’t traded notes beforehand. She studied Peggy’s outfit first—black pants and a shirt with a silver star on the pocket. It didn’t exactly scream Christmas.

“What in the world are you supposed to be, Peggy?” she asked when they reached her.

“The head security elf,” she totally deadpanned.

Jill threw her arms up and twirled around. “Guess who I am.”

Abbie let her eyes travel over the bright red Santa outfit, which was similar in style to hers save for the thick black handlebar mustache gracing Jill’s lip. “I almost don’t want to know.”

She grabbed her pillow–stuffed belly and laughed in a big boom. “Snicker Claus, ‘cause I crack jokes. Wanna hear one?”

“No,” Meredith said, stepping forward to give Abbie a hug. “You look lovely, Abbie. The perfect Mrs. Claus.”

Meredith was dressed like a super hero, from the white leather pants to the sparkly white bustier and cape.

“Your cape is fantastic,” Abbie commented, wanting to run her fingers over the white velvet. “What are you?”

Meredith stuck out her hip playfully. “A Winter Goddess Badass, of course. I had to bring out the La Perla again. I used to wear La Perla every day to give myself a confidence boost, and it’s nice to reprise it every now and then.”

Abbie wasn’t sure she wanted to know about her new friend’s lingerie.

“Tanner likes the costume,” Meredith murmured, flicking her cape with her gloved hand.

“Please,” Peggy pleaded. “Sister here.” Then she grabbed a piece of prosciutto–wrapped melon from a passing tray. “This seems more like summer food,” she concluded after taking a bite.

And that was when Abbie took a better look at the hors d’oeurves. All of her favorites were making the rounds, from the fig–roasted beef tenderloin in tiny black bowls to the mounds of strawberries dipped in chocolate. Her breath hitched, and her wig started to itch.

“He’s done this for me,” she whispered, even though he’d said this wasn’t her present. She wasn’t sure if she should be upset about it. The romantic part of her thought it was incredibly sweet.

Peggy gave a snort. “Well, duh. Do you really think Cowboy–on–Crack would ever have come up with this shindig without romance on the mind? I mean, look at this place, Abbie.”

Jill put an arm around her, bumping her with her fake girth. “It’s like a fairy tale.”

Yeah, no poker babes in Santa’s helper outfits anywhere. Thank God.

And then the crowd seemed to part, and her fairy tale prince appeared. He wore gray dress pants and a white dress coat with a white shirt underneath. The gray silk tie had sparkles on it, something only Rhett could pull off. He wasn’t truly in a Christmas costume, but it didn’t matter. It was the most dressed up she’d ever seen him. And her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

“Don’t make the man suffer much longer,” Jill suggested, giving her a squeeze. “It’s Christmas. Time to make up. Let’s go, girls,” she said to the others.

“Wait,” Abbie called after them, but they just smiled and continued on their way.

Rhett bowed grandly in front of her. When he straightened, he plucked a red rose from his lapel and extended it to her. “Merry Christmas, Abbie.”

As she took the rose, part of her wished she wasn’t wearing white gloves. She wanted to run her fingers over the velvety petals. Instead, she brought it to her nose. “My goodness, this one is fragrant.”