Merry Kisses (Riverbend Romance 5) (8 page)

Her insides sank in ice.

She’d let two phone calls from her parents go to voice mail. She could handle their
told you so
about the toy store job. But she just couldn’t tell them about Heath. Not yet. She couldn’t go there with them until she knew it would last.

A gray sky hung over Riverbend, shrouding the nearby mountains. A darker ribbon of gray — the Sandon River — wound past the monochromatic town. Snow, the great equalizer, covered roofs, yards, and streets alike. Two plows worked the streets in the downtown core, their engines barely audible in the distance over the deep hush. Somewhere down there Heath and his little Bobcat cleared parking lots. He said he started at three o’clock in the morning if there was much snow. It took him six hours to clear his contracts.

Sonya rubbed her arms and turned from the glass, a flimsy barrier from the chill outside. On her table, the bright red poinsettia, the only hint of Christmas in her apartment, beckoned her closer until she reached for its velvety leaves.

It shouldn’t have to be this way. Just because her parents never had a tree or made a big deal of the season didn’t mean she couldn’t. Everything had been laser-focused on Jesus’ birth in her childhood. They’d exchanged small gifts, sure, but on Christmas Eve, probably so neither she nor her brother could pretend some red-suited guy accompanied by a herd of reindeer had brought them. Christmas Day had been for church and turkey dinner.

Which was the right way to celebrate? Her upbringing battled with Heath’s vision as though both had sharp swords. One thing she knew for sure. The birth of Jesus was worth everything and deserved to be recognized. Without that momentous occasion, there would have been no sermons on hillsides. No parables. No miracles. No death and resurrection that provided salvation to all who believed.

Sonya crossed to her television and found the Christmas music channel with the hokey crackling fireplace. Strains of
Silent Night
filled the apartment. She fixed a mug of hot cocoa, picked up her Bible from the coffee table, and curled up to read the age-old story one more time.

Whether Heath was right or her parents, she could count on the gospel of Luke to keep her foundation solid and sure.

* * *

The rich aroma of potato chowder teased Heath awake. A cat sprawled across his chest, reminding him he wasn’t at home. Not that anything he cooked smelled as amazing as that soup. He dragged his fingers down the cat’s back, all that was required to start her motor.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Heath angled his head until he could see Sonya, silhouetted in the light from her kitchen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

She sauntered toward him, sat on the coffee table, and reached for his hand. “No problem. You looked awfully tired when you stopped by.”

Right. He’d had a question for her. “What time is it?”

“Two.”

Heath shot upright on the sofa, the quilt that had been covering him spilling to the floor. “Seriously? I must’ve slept four hours. You should’ve woke me up. I can’t believe I did this to you.”

She smiled. “You needed it. How long can you go, burning the candle at both ends?”

He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Another three weeks? Until Christmas is over.”

“You’re going to get sick like Destiny did. And then who will be Santa?”

“Destiny. That’s what I stopped by to tell you. She’s feeling better, but still coughing a lot. She’s wondering if you can do today and tomorrow, too. Then there are no North Pole hours Monday and Tuesday, and she thinks she can be back for Wednesday. What do you say?”

Sonya looked at him thoughtfully. “I think I can do that. It’s not like I’m gainfully employed anywhere yet.”

“Something will show up. Hey, if you know how to drive a Bobcat…?”

She smiled. “Not in my skill set, but it does look fun. Do those things really do a zero-turn radius?”

“Pretty much.” A woman of continual surprises. “Now where did you learn that term?”

“Heard it somewhere.” She shrugged. “I made some soup. Are you hungry?”

“It smells awesome, and I’m starving.”

She rested her hand on his knee. “When is the last time you ate? You sound like you need someone to take care of you.”

Heath captured her hand and leaned closer. “Are you volunteering?” When she didn’t shift away, he stretched a smidge further and brushed his lips against hers. Whoa, that tingle was as good as food. “Because the position might be open.”

Sonya inhaled sharply and met his gaze before surging upright. “Come on over to the table.”

He stood and wrapped an arm around her. “Thank you, Sonya. And to answer your question, I had a couple of sandwiches in the cab this morning.” His stomach rumbled. “That was a while ago.”

She dragged him over to the table and pushed him into a chair before going into the kitchen. A moment later she returned carrying two bowls of chowder.

Heath caught her hand as she sat down. He bowed his head. “Thank You, Jesus, for coming to Earth as a tiny baby so that we could have forgiveness and eternal life. Thank You for Sonya and for this awesome food she’s prepared. In Your name, amen.” He caressed her fingers. “This smells amazing.”

Sonya smiled. “Dig in.”

Now he had one more reason to keep this woman in his life. How long had it been since he’d tasted homemade soup? His mom rarely did more than open a can. The velvety texture and subtle flavor tantalized his mouth and satisfied his stomach. A few minutes later he’d polished off a second bowl.

“You really plowed snow for seven hours, mostly before dawn?”

“All in a day’s work.” He reached for a warm biscuit and slathered butter on it. Then he paused with it halfway to his mouth. “Oh, man. I crashed on your sofa without an invitation and now I’m eating you out of house and home. I’m sorry.” And her without a job. Could he be any more of a heel?

“Heath.”

He set the biscuit down. “Yes?”

A little smile toyed with the edges of her mouth. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t get to cook for anyone other than myself very often. It was fun to wonder what you might enjoy that I had the ingredients for.”

“I can’t remember when I enjoyed a meal this much.”

Sonya’s eyes slipped downward. “It’s not anything special.”

He reached across the corner of the table and lifted her chin. “Everything you touch is special. Because you are.”

She sucked in her lips, not meeting his gaze.

“Don’t you believe me?” he asked softly. “You’re amazing, Sonya. Absolutely amazing.”

Sonya glanced at him then away.

If it was a ploy to make him keep talking, she was pretty good at it. But he didn’t think so. What had happened in her life to make her so unsure of herself?
 

Heath slipped from his chair and knelt beside hers, sliding an arm around the back of it and reaching for the fingers clenched in her lap with his other hand. “Sonya.”

She didn’t respond, but that might have been a tear at the corner of her eye.

“Sonya, look at me. You are a beautiful woman with a love for kids and a generous heart. You’re an amazing cook. You’ve created a real home in this apartment, unlike the bachelor pad I live in.”
 

Tangle twined around his ankles, little motor headed from zero to sixty. Heath grinned. “Your cat adores you, and she should. I’m well over halfway in love with you myself.”

She snuck him a glance, and his stomach clenched. Too much, too soon? He hadn’t intended to say those words yet, not because he hadn’t been thinking them morning, noon, and night for several days, but because he didn’t want to rush her. Scare her. But maybe they were better out in the open.

He tightened his fingers around hers and held her close as he buried his face against the crook of her neck amidst her luscious hair. “Thank you for letting me into your life. I won’t hurt you, ever. I promise.”

Sonya trembled then turned slightly to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

Heath gathered her up, lifting her off the chair and over to the sofa where he sat with her in his arms. He brushed his fingers through her soft, thick hair and cupped the back of her head as his lips searched for hers. They were easy to find.

Her mouth moved against his with as much passion as he felt building up in him, teasing him yet making promises at the same time.

Heath’s hands roved her back as he reveled in the sensations coursing through him. He’d kissed a woman or two before in his day, but never before had it threatened to topple him. He pulled back with a groan, desiring anything but.

Sonya wasn’t ready to stop. She held his face between both her hands and nuzzled his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks — unshaven — before settling back against his mouth.

He drowned again, and when he came up for air, he knew he had to stop. Now, while he could.

* * *

Heath was good with the kids. He held even the smallest babies up to his white whiskers and smiled for the camera. Sure, there was always a toddler or two that took one look at him and freaked out, but he even managed to soothe many of them into cooperating.

The battle continued in Sonya’s mind as she managed the moms and tots in the lineup. She was falling for this guy in a big way. There was no pretending otherwise for the passionate and very merry kisses they’d shared. When he wore anything but the Santa suit, the reservations were easy to push aside. Even seeing him in action wasn’t a real deterrent. It was only when she forced herself to take a long look into the future that the doubts welled up again.

She turned to the laptop to enter the information for the next Santa photo, and caught movement beyond the piles of glittery gifts. Shoppers hurried by in both directions, so how could one motion catch her eye? No, it was the stillness of one small body amid the flurry.

Bailey.

The child watched from a distance, hands stuffed in her jeans pockets.

Sonya took an involuntary step closer as Bailey’s gaze latched onto hers. Then the girl was gone.

Someone desperately needed hope this Christmas season.

CHAPTER 10

“It’s the least I can do.” Heath guided Sonya into the Save-On-More supermarket not far from River of Life Church. In the foyer, he plugged a dollar coin into a buggy’s handle and disengaged it from the row.

“But—”

He dropped a quick kiss onto her sweet lips. “Okay, you do have a choice. You let me buy groceries to cook with, or I’ll go back to eating ramen noodles and day-old sandwiches from the Petro-Canada.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You don’t want gas station food on your conscience, do you?”

Sonya sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

Whew. He pushed the cart into the produce section of the store. “Have at it. We’re not leaving until this thing is rounded on top, okay? Whatever you need.”

“Then we shouldn’t start with produce. It will get crushed.”

“See? I know nothing about this process. I shop at the Petro-Can because there are only four kinds of soup to choose from, and their fruit choices are bananas, oranges, and apples. When they have any.”

“I can’t believe you shop there. Besides fuel, I mean.”

“Fresh coffee. Pop.” He grinned at her as she tugged the cart into the baking supplies aisle. “I can even get a hot dog or a slice of pizza there.”

Sonya shuddered. “You want pizza? That can be arranged.”

He nudged her. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

A smile peeked from both her mouth and her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’d like to think that anything is possible.” Now that he had her attention, he leaned for another kiss.

She stepped back, shaking her head, but smiling. “We’ll never get done in here if we keep that up.”

Heath pulled an imaginary zipper across his mouth. “I’ll dream of merry kisses with every step we take through this store. What do we need here? Flour? Sugar?”

Sonya nodded and reached for a bag of sugar, but Heath snagged it first and set it in the buggy. “I hope this means there are cookies in my future.”

“What’s your favorite kind?”

“Hmm. Christmas cookies? Gingerbread men with icing and coconut and those little sprinkles.”

She turned and stared at him as he licked his lips.

“What, you’ve never had those?”

“My mom didn’t make special cookies.”

Heath slid his hand over hers on the shopping cart handle. “Your parents didn’t really do Christmas.” Would she confide in him soon?

“Not the trappings everyone associates with it, no. Just Baby Jesus.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. The Savior’s birth is the only part that matters, anyway.”

Her apartment, cozy and full of character, but not full of Christmas. No tree. No decorations. No visual reminders of the holiday season. “You don’t have to do things the way your folks did,” he said softly, scooting the cart to one side to allow another shopper to pass. “You can choose a different way, unless their way makes you happy?”

She stared down at their entwined hands. “I always thought it did.”

His heart surged out of proportion to the five whispered words. “Not anymore?” Because could he really give his heart and his entire future to a woman who spurned so many of his favorite things about one entire month of the year? And kids... man, he wanted babies with Sonya. But they’d have to agree on how to raise them. Santa might not be the only thing.

“It’s just... it’s just all so commercial, you know? It’s all about what we can get.”

“Not for everyone. Most people find a balance. For every gift that’s received, someone is the giver. Usually that someone has spent time considering what kind of gift will make the person he loves happy.” Like him. Wondering if it was too soon to give Sonya the Christmas gift he wanted to offer more than anything else.

He was nuts. He’d only known her three weeks. Yet somehow, it seemed enough. He’d made a snap decision to move to Riverbend three years before and never regretted it a minute. Same with starting his own landscaping business when he hadn’t been able to find work. When he jumped, he was all in.

Maybe when he fell, too. He hadn’t been looking for love, but Sonya had found him anyway. He asked God every day to guide his footsteps, but he hadn’t been praying for a wife. He hadn’t even wanted one. Sure, in the vague future, but it hadn’t been an immediate need. That had changed in a hurry.