On Thin Ice (12 page)

“You are beautiful.”

Malory snapped her head up when she heard Christopher’s voice. She spun to see him leaned against the counter watching her unpack the basket.

“Why are you watching me?” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Because I find that when I see you lately, I just want to bask in you.” He moved to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crevice of her neck. She felt his fingers dig into her clothing, and his breath was warm and enticing in her ear. If it were only them in the house, Thanksgiving dinner would have to wait a few hours, and she could tell by the tensing of his muscles he felt the same way. She settled into him. Was it wise that she was falling in love with him?

Was that even a fair assessment? She’d always been in love with him, but now . . .

She sighed.

“Why don’t you open this and pour me a glass.” She handed him a bottle of wine and watched as he set out to pull glasses from the shelf.

Yep, she was in love with him. How was she possibly going to manage it?

They ate turkey that her father carved into chunks as he cursed and proclaimed that he always hated that part. Malory watched Maggie’s eyes dance as she tried to catch the pieces he dumped off the knife. They were happy and that made her happy.

Since she had plans to stay in Aspen Creek for the long run, she figured she had time later to pry for the whole story. Whatever was going on between Maggie Douglas and her father wouldn’t be kept secret forever. Maggie wouldn’t be able to hold on that long.

Christopher checked his watch again as Maggie tried to pass dishes around for the third time. “Mom, the game is on in ten minutes. Can we please save some of this for dinner? Or even dinner next week?” He sat back and patted his swollen stomach.

“Fine.” She set down the stuffing. “You two go and plop your asses down on the couch. But when you’re looking for pie, I just might have eaten it all.”

He smiled at his mother and stood, picking up his plate. “I’ll do dishes.”

“No you won’t. Go. Watch your game. Let me and Wil catch up and plan out this takeover of the bakery for tomorrow. If we all feel like dinner later, we’ll warm some of this up and eat before I send Santa off to change his clothes.” She gave Harvey a wink.

“I really either need to stop offering to do that or I need to eat less,” Harvey groaned.

“It makes you more Santa-like,” she teased.

He nodded and left the room with Christopher. Within moments, the house filled with the sounds of football, and Malory sank into her chair and caught Maggie’s stare.

“What?”

Maggie leaned her arms on the table and inched toward Malory. “You spent the weekend together, and you haven’t even given me any details.”

Malory shook her head with a laugh. “You want details?”

“Spill it.”

“Well, there was a carriage ride, sushi, and sake. Cheesecake and coffee.”

Maggie smiled and inched even closer. “Continue.”

“Let’s see.” Malory wiggled in her chair. “Then we went back to the room and I took a hot bath, put on my pjs, and fell asleep on his shoulder watching some movie he rented.”

Maggie sat silently, then with a huff sat back in her chair. “If you don’t want to go into the details . . .”

“Those are the details.” Malory laughed. “I got drunk on sake and passed out. We went to bed and I slept it off. There are no romantic details to share.”

Maggie began to gather plates and stack them. “I was certain I could start wishing for some grandkids.”

Malory was sure the shock and disbelief flashed across her face. She stood and began to hurry dishes out to the sink, but Maggie was right behind her.

“That made you mad. What’s that about?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll get the dishes if you want to fill the sink.” Malory turned to hurry back to the dining room, but Maggie slid in front of her and stopped her.

“I didn’t mean anything by that. You have to see my side to this. I always thought you belonged with Christopher, and if I could pick a daughter, it would have been you.” She eased back a step. “Now, he was stupid a long time ago and he broke your heart. You’ve held on to that pain and fretted over it for years. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”

Malory could feel the tears begin to burn her eyes, and she batted them away before they could fall. “I don’t blame him anymore.” She tried to move around Maggie, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I’m kinda hoping that now that you’re both back you’ll work this little thing out between you.”

“Right now I’m just enjoying his company. The last thing on my mind is marriage and children.”

“I thought you wanted children.”

“I did, once.” The conversation was making her sick to her stomach. “Maggie, I just don’t want to talk about this.”

Maggie stepped back in front of her and reached out her hand to Malory’s shoulder. “Did Alan hurt you?” She tilted her head in to whisper.

Malory shook her head. The tears were creeping back up and ready to spill down her cheeks. “He’d never do anything to hurt me. Alan was a decent man.”

“I always thought so.” Maggie stepped back. “I’m here, Wil. If you need to talk, you can talk to me.”

“I know.” She moved around her and back to the dining room table to gather more plates, her mind focused on her task to keep from dwelling on the enormity of her failure as a wife.

Christopher stepped back from the doorway where he’d been listening to his mother and Wil talk. His heart ached when he heard her talk about not wanting a marriage or children. He was wasting his time.

Seeing her father dressed as Santa Claus was still fascinating and a bit eerie to Wil. “You amaze me. Every year you do this, and it’s the happiest moment for so many of these kids.”

“And every year one of them pees on me.” He adjusted his belt and the pillow beneath the red suit coat.

Maggie walked out of her bedroom dressed as Mrs. Claus, and the sparkle in her father’s eyes was undeniable. She was his Mrs. Claus, and it wasn’t just for the evening, it was forever.

“Wil, are you sure you don’t want to go downtown with us? I know there are a lot of people who haven’t seen you yet.”

“Chris and I are going to watch the tree lighting from the porch at Dad’s. So you two kids have fun and don’t feel like you have to tuck yourselves into bed too early.” She gave her father a wink, and his cheeks reddened to the color of his suit.

Maggie, on the other hand, laughed. “Same goes.” She winked and walked out the door on the arm of Santa.

Christopher filled the metal tub full of wood to stack next to his mother’s fireplace. Had the sun not already tucked itself in behind the mountains, he’d have gone and cut down a forest of trees himself.

His breath carried on the frozen air as he cursed silently to himself. He’d heard her loud and clear. The last thing on her mind was marriage and children. How come it had to be the first on his?

He’d been eighteen when he’d broken her heart. What an idiot to think that for one fleeting moment sex was more important than Wil’s trust.

He threw another log onto the pile and straightened his back.

She could hold a grudge. Didn’t Harvey ever teach her about forgiving and forgetting?

Then again, why should she?

He looked up at the clear sky. The stars burned bright. He’d toyed with the idea of proposing under those very stars. There was no ring, it had just been a thought. Things were going well, and until today he’d figured had he caught Wil at the right moment she’d jump at the proposal.

But he’d seen her face when his mother mentioned it. No, there would be no proposal tonight.

“I’m going to head home and get ready. You want to ride with me?” He turned to see Wil standing in the door, the light of the house glowing behind her.

“I’ll meet up with you.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.” But the anger he felt dripped in his voice.

She gave him a nod and headed back through the house and out the other side.

Christopher threw down the last log in his hand and kicked at the snow on the ground. Maybe it wasn’t going to be any different this time. Maybe he’d screwed things up so much fifteen years ago he should forget about even trying. Wil deserved better.

He carried the tub inside and set it next to the fireplace. He took the poker and moved the logs around to kill the fire. How was he going to kill the fire in him though? No matter what he said to himself, he wanted Wil in his life. He wanted Wil as his wife. And until his mother had put in her opinion of grandkids, he hadn’t realized it mattered—but he wanted children. He wanted them with Wil. But she’d shot that notion down, hadn’t she?

Christopher scooped back his hair with both his hands then let it fall. Christmas was a time to forgive. It was just time to make her do just that.

Malory brushed the snow off the lounge on the back porch and moved all the other chairs away, ensuring that they would have to cuddle close in the only remaining one.

She looked out over the lake. There were cars lined up on the bank, little fires crackled against the snow, and the noise of people moving in to watch the lighting of the tree filtered up to the porch. She’d never appreciated the proximity of the house to the lake as a child, but as a woman hoping for a romantic memory, she thought it was the perfect spot.

She’d filled a bucket with snow and placed a bottle of champagne in it and set two glass flutes on the small table next to the lounge.

It was cold enough to make her wonder what she was doing outside in the dark, but the thought of the warmth they’d be feeling soon helped her finish setting up.

The air stirred and she heard the tires of his truck on the gravel out front then his footsteps as he walked around toward the back porch. She realized just how stunning a man he was as he came into the light from the house. He’d pulled on a stocking cap, and his curls hung loosely from under it. The thought crossed her mind that in all the years she’d known him he’d cut off those long, lazy curls just once. It hadn’t suited him. The length of his hair was part of the good-hearted-bad-boy image that defined Chris Douglas.

He stomped the snow from his boots as he climbed the steps to the porch. “It’s freaking cold out here.”

“Leave it to the residents of Aspen Creek to opt to light a Christmas tree in the cold.”

He shook his head at her and she noticed his demeanor had changed since they’d had dinner at his mother’s.

“How about a glass of champagne to warm you up?”

“Sure.” He shrugged his shoulders and tightened the scarf around his neck.

Malory poured them each a glass and handed one to him. “Here’s to a very productive new year.” She playfully raised her eyebrows and curled her lips into a seductive smile as she tapped her glass to his.

“You seem pretty happy to be out here freezing to death.”

“We can watch from inside if you want to. I just don’t think it’s quite the same.”

He nodded and drank down his champagne. “You’re right. It’s been a long time since I’ve see this, but I am pretty sure the last time I parked by the lake to watch it I missed it anyway.”

Malory bit her lip. She remembered that vividly too.

“I promise you can watch this time.” She moved closer to him, lifting her free arm to encircle his neck. “That is, if you want to.”

At that moment, a shower of white light exploded above them and rained down over the lake.

“Looks like we’ll be watching.” He pulled her toward the lounge, picked up the quilt that lay there, sat down, and pulled her down to him.

She pulled the quilt up over them and settled against his hard masculine body as he wrapped his arms around her. Snuggling on her father’s back porch, under a blanket, still gave her a little jolt as though they were sneaking around as they’d once done.

They could hear the onlookers from around the lake as the fireworks exploded above the lake, mirroring themselves in the water.

“Look.” Christopher pointed out to the lake where a sled was pulled by a single reindeer.

On that sled was the mayor of Aspen Creek. He’d turn on the lights on the tree and the holiday season was officially started. The town would soon be crawling with tourists roaming the small town’s shops and visiting Santa Claus, who took up full-time residence on Main Street until Christmas Eve. His face changed almost daily, but the mystique never did.

With the lighting of the tree, Christopher realized there were only two weeks to finish preparations for the Christmas pageant and the hockey game he was planning. He’d need to put in the footwork to promote it, but it was doable, greatly in part because he had Harvey Wilson as his partner.

A breeze blew off the lake and with the smell of sulfur from the fireworks he caught the scent of Wil snuggled in close to him. The tree in the center of the lake burst into vivid color, and after the cheers and the sound of honking car horns died down, the crowd began to disperse from around the lake.

Wil turned on the lounge and straddled his body.

“We made it. We watched the whole thing.” She lowered herself and brushed his lips with the warmth of hers. “Dad is going to be a long time. Want to go inside and relive old times?”

His body was reacting to her even though he wanted to keep it simply pliant under hers. She bit the fingertips of her gloves and pulled them off her hands. She pulled off his cap and ran her fingers through his hair pulling his face closer to hers.

Christopher watched her. Her eyes were smoky and sultry as she wrapped her body around his. He held her back, his hands gripping her hips.

He knew the timing was off, but the magic of the fireworks brought back the magic of that long-ago night.

“Wil?”

“Hmmm?” She nuzzled her lips against his throat.

“I want to ask you something.”

“What?” She moved her lips to his ear as she slipped her hands into his coat. The warmth of her touch sent his heart rate up, and he closed his eyes to gather himself and his courage.

“Will you marry me?”

She shot up and the smoky haze that had clouded her eyes cleared instantly. The crease between her eyebrows gave him his answer without a word being spoken.