The Bachelor’s Christmas Bride (6 page)

“True. But it's the life I want to be bigger. I still want to be me.”

“I hope so, because you're pretty good,” he complimented with another smile—this one appreciative enough to send a warm rush through her as she finished her cake and watched Dag polish off what was left of the piece Cody hadn't eaten.

Then Dag continued with what they were talking about. “I think there's something to be said for people who can be happy with who they are, with what they have, who can make the best of the cards life deals them. It sounds like that's what your parents did and you admired them for it.”

“I guess that's true—that was how my parents were and I did admire them for it,” Shannon agreed. “But maybe some people need more and there's nothing wrong with trying to achieve that, either.”

Shannon couldn't be sure whether the music from the reception downstairs suddenly got louder, or with the kids asleep and the silence that followed that last statement, it just seemed that way.

Dag must have noticed it, too. He'd been leaning on the island counter and just then he straightened up, looking as if something had just occurred to him. “Hey, maybe I can have that dance with you after all.”

“Here? Now?”

“Why not? There's music—not loud, but there's still music. There's an open area, there's a hardwood floor…”

The loft did have a lot of open areas, particularly just a few feet from where they were, in front of an entire wall of windows where stars sparkled in the sky overhead and the main house in the distance was brilliantly and colorfully illuminated with Christmas lights.

“Come on, dance with me—you would if we were downstairs, wouldn't you?”

She probably would have, yes. Just to be polite…

“Come on,” Dag repeated, clasping her hand in his to bring her out from behind the counter and with him to that spot near the windows.

When they got there he used a bit of a flourish to spin her into his arms where his other hand landed on her bare back and sent a wholly pleasant little shiver up her spine.

It's just a dance,
she told herself.
An innocent little dance like everyone downstairs is doing…

And yet this seemed so much more intimate. Especially since she was ultra-aware of the feel of Dag's skin pressed to hers.

She tried not to focus on that, though, as she fell into step with him.

“You're a good dancer,” she said with some surprise. And with a secret wish that he wasn't quite as good as he was—if he hadn't been, maybe he wouldn't have been able to keep such a respectable space between them. “I haven't run into many men who can dance at all, let alone well.”

“You can't be talking about your Rumson—”

“Wes can dance—all the Rumsons learn how early because dancing at fancy dress balls and parties and at their country club makes for good photo opportunities,” she said, reiterating what Wes had told her. “But when it comes to non-Rumsons—”

“I didn't have to learn to dance for photo opportunities, but it
was
part of my mother's notions of high society—she said that all people of class knew how to dance. And the girls had to wear party dresses and the boys had to be in a suit and tie so we learned the
correct comportment
.”

That explained the respectable space between them.

But once the wedding pictures had all been taken, Dag had removed his bow tie and cummerbund. His tuxedo jacket had come off by the time dinner was served. The collar button of his pleated white shirt was unfastened, and he was definitely looking like himself—in what was left of the tux, he'd managed to combine refined and relaxed. So Shannon wouldn't have minded it if he had eased up a little on that comportment, too, to hold her closer.

But instead he displayed what he'd probably also been taught—to make polite conversation while dancing.

“So, kindergarten, huh? You start at the ground floor with the kiddos?”

“Actually, for most kids the ground floor is preschool now. But yes, I teach kindergarten.”

“Kindergarten for me was more playtime than learning.”

“Playtime teaches kids social skills and to share and to cooperate with other kids—there's value in it. But there are academics now, too—work on reading and writing, numbers, the basics.”

“Ah, I'm underestimating the kindergarten teacher of today—it's not just sing-alongs and reading stories and breaking up fights over toys?”

“There's all that, too, but there's also definitely more to it than that.”

“And why did you pick the beginners rather than say…fourth grade?”

Had he just adjusted his hand on her back and brought her the tiniest bit nearer?

Shannon had to tip up her head slightly more to peer into that handsome face, so she thought he might have.

Not that she was inclined to complain…

“I'm licensed to teach K through sixth, but I like the really little kids,” she answered his question. “They're so full of life and so unjaded. They truly believe the world is their oyster, that anything—and everything—is possible. I guess I like to believe that, too. And seeing things through a kindergartner's eyes helps.”

Dag was looking down into
her
eyes and that explanation seemed to please him because he smiled an appreciative smile. “You're good with Tia and Cody. And Tia is crazy about you. So I'm betting that teaching is what you're cut out for.”

“I never doubted it. Even now, when I've needed time off and appreciated having it, I've still missed my job.”

“Are you going back to work after Christmas break?”

“No, actually I'm going to Beverly Hills.”

“California?” he said with an arch of his eyebrows.

“I have a good friend there—Dani Bond. She's been my best friend since first grade, we were college roommates. She married a businessman from Beverly Hills and she's building her own private school…well, with the help of her husband's funding. The Early Childhood Development Center.”

“Fancy. And private, I'll bet.”

“Yes, private. And intended to attract the Beverly Hills elite. Dani will make sure that it also provides the
best possible early education and academic foundation for kids from pre-kindergarten through sixth grade.” Without thinking, Shannon added, “She wants me in on it with her. She's invited me to invest the money from selling my parents' business and the building it was in, and from Gramma's house, to be a partner in the school. I could head the pre-K and kindergarten portion and teach, too.”

“Wow. That sounds exciting. But how does that fit in with marrying Wes Rumson and potentially becoming Montana's First Lady?”

Oh, for a minute she'd forgotten.

Shannon could have kicked herself.

It was just
too
easy to talk to this man.

And too easy to forget herself and everything else she should be remembering.

“Well, sure…I mean…I couldn't do both…at least not the work parts. I could still invest in Dani's school,” she said haltingly as she stumbled to keep the secret of her nonexistent engagement. “Anyway, you asked if I was going back to work after Christmas and I'm not. I have plans to visit Dani, to check things out, to see what I think. Right now I'm just considering what to do.”

Dag went on studying her for a long moment as they continued to dance, and Shannon had the sense that she was being read like a book.

Then he proved her right when he said, “So, really, you have your choice of two lives bigger than what you've known. You're engaged to a Rumson who will likely be the next Governor. Or you could invest in your friend's school, be instrumental in setting the educational foundation of kids of the rich and famous, and make your own flashier life—”

Dag definitely saw things too clearly.

“Wes says I'd just be wiping their noses,” Shannon heard herself say before she even knew she was going to, appreciating that Dag's view of her opportunity was not so pompous.

But she knew she'd ventured further than she should have already and she needed to rectify it, so she shrugged and said, “It's just the investment opportunity I'm checking out after Christmas.”

Dag nodded but she didn't think he completely believed her.

Before he could pursue it, though, the bandleader's voice came over the muffled strains of music to announce that the next song would be the last.

“We better make this good,” Dag said as the band segued into a romantic ballad.

That was when comportment finally went out the window.

In keeping with custom, Shannon's right hand was in Dag's left. He raised her hand to his shoulder and let it rest there in order to clasp both of his hands at the small of her back in a very informal—and even more intimate—dance posture. He also closed that respectable space between them completely by pulling her near enough for their bodies to touch, for Shannon to have no choice but to put her cheek to the rock-hard wall of his chest while her other hand pressed to the expanse of his broad shoulders.

“Wouldn't your mother be upset with your
comportment?
” Shannon whispered.

She half expected him to say
Wouldn't your fiancé have a fit if he knew you were letting me do this?

But the only sound Dag made was a soft response into her hair. “Shhh…I won't tell if you won't.”

Shannon knew that if she truly had been engaged,
she probably shouldn't have gone along with this. But his arms were strong around her, bracketing hers like muscular parentheses. He smelled of a fresh, citrusy cologne. His body was big and warm and powerful. And it was just all too nice to deny herself what she continued to insist was nothing more than a dance. A simple, harmless dance…

A dance that really just amounted to swaying in place now…

Then the music ended and the distant voice from below congratulated Chase and Hadley one last time and wished them well.

And while Shannon regretted it, Dag stopped their dancing on cue, too, and released his hold of her enough for there to be a separation between them again. Enough for his arms to only be loosely around her still as he smiled down at her.

“Sooo much better than dancing with my sisters,” he said in a deep, quiet voice.

Shannon returned his smile, looking up into his thickly lashed, almost-black eyes as they peered down into hers.

And for no reason it just seemed like a moment for him to kiss her.

Go ahead
…she silently urged, wanting him to, unable to convince herself it was a bad idea even though she tried.

And she thought he might do it because his chin tipped downward just slightly, because his gaze went from her eyes to her lips, because she even found her own chin raising a fraction of an inch to encourage him.

But then those brawny shoulders of his drew back enough to break the spell that dancing seemed to have
cast, and as he pulled his arms from around her, he instead caught her hand again.

It was that hand that he brought up to his lips, pressing them to the back of it, kissing it very gallantly before he released it and said, “I suppose I should go see if I'm needed to get things wrapped up down there.”

Shannon nodded her agreement with that and walked him to the top of the stairs that would take him back to the workroom, silently swearing to herself that the kiss on the hand had been more than sufficient….

“Thanks for everything tonight,” she said when they reached the doorway that opened to the steps.

“Don't mention it. And tomorrow we're going Christmas shopping, right?”

“I feel kind of guilty asking more of you after all this.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” he said sincerely. Then he leaned forward and added, “Just don't tell your Rumson and get my butt kicked.”

“Believe me, you don't have to worry about that,” she said wryly.

“I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

Can't wait,
she thought.

But she didn't say it.

She merely nodded and, after exchanging good-nights, watched him go down the stairs.

Then she turned and headed for the bedrooms to check on the kids.

And somehow along the way she discovered herself staring at the back of that hand Dag had kissed.

And recalling every detail of how his lips had felt there.

And really, really wishing—in spite of everything—that she'd felt those lips on her own instead.

S
hannon spent Sunday morning with Cody and Tia, and it started her day off just right. Her hiatus from teaching had left a shortage of kid contact in her life and since that was something that genuinely uplifted her, she drank in every moment with the duo until Meg and Logan came to the apartment to take Tia off her hands, and—a while after that—Chase and Hadley returned from their one-night honeymoon to get Cody.

Then Shannon and Dag were off to shop down Northbridge's Main Street.

Prior to that afternoon, Shannon hadn't taken full notice of just how thoroughly—and splendidly—the small town celebrated the Christmas holiday. But there was no overlooking it in the heart of things on the last weekend before Christmas.

In the cold, crisp winter air every building front was outlined in lights that were turned on to brighten the
overcast threat of the storm that was coming. Every eave had both real and decorative icicles hanging from them like glittery crystal spears. Every door had a wreath, and every display window had a Christmas scene or Christmas wares exhibited.

Lining the sidewalk were Victorian-style wrought iron streetlights all wrapped in tiny white lights, pine boughs and red ribbons that were also strung between them like a canopy.

At the corners of each of the three cross streets, there were decorated Christmas trees. And for Sunday there were numerous carts selling ornaments, trinkets and gift items; warm, salty pretzels; mulled cider and hot chocolate; sugar-and-spice almonds; popcorn; roasted chestnuts; and cookies, fudge and divinity aplenty.

There were also carolers outside the general merchandise store whose songs echoed the full length of Main, and a Santa Claus—who
wasn't
Dag—set up at the end of a candy-cane-lined walkway that led to the courthouse doors. He sat on a red velvet throne waiting to hear children's requests.

All in all, Shannon thought it was like a scene from a Dickens novel except there wasn't a Scrooge to be seen, and she again found only warmth and welcome and people who seemed to feel she was one of the local family even though she was basically a stranger to them.

Dag came through for her with gift suggestions. For Meg and Hadley she bought copies of a book he said they were both dying to read. For Logan there was an autographed baseball that Dag said his brother had been admiring in a store window since it had appeared there. And Chase's gift was also a gift to herself and the other brothers she still hadn't found—four family albums and Shannon's promise to fill them with photographs that
would give the separated siblings a sense of their years growing up apart and then continue with photos from now.

“I know you probably haven't had time yet to go through the stuff from the house—”

“I haven't even taken the boxes out of the trunk of my car,” Shannon told Dag when he recommended the albums.

“—but there are about five old pictures I came across stuck in the back of a drawer and four of them are of you as a kid. If you can part with three of them, you could start the albums with those.”

Shannon thought it was a great idea.

Gifts for Tia and Cody were more plentiful just because Shannon couldn't resist a few indulgences during their hour in the toy store. Plus the kids were also getting books, though Dag said he'd yet to hear of Tia sitting still for anything but
Goodnight Moon
.

During the course of the afternoon, Dag also finished his Christmas shopping and for a short while at the end of the day, they parted at Shannon's request so she could retrace her steps slightly and buy Dag a sweater he'd considered buying himself and then hadn't.

It was cashmere and probably more than she should have spent on him. But she rationalized that besides being something she knew he liked, she owed him for all he'd done to keep her company through the wedding, for shopping with her today and for sharing gift ideas that were insightful and had made for presents that she was looking forward to giving on Christmas morning.

And when he'd held up the sweater in front of him, the deep charcoal-gray color had emphasized his dark coloring and made him look indescribably dashing, and
she'd known at that moment that she just had to see him wearing it. Extravagant or not.

As dusk fell they could have gone home but Dag had a better idea—a dinner of pizza and beer to get them off their feet for a little while, then some ice skating in the town square where Shannon had first seen him.

“I'll call home and tell them to eat without us,” he said, and like his other suggestions, it had too much appeal for her to reject.

So pizza and beer it was, sitting at the front window of the local pizzeria.

“Look at that,” Dag said as he peered out at the beauty of Main Street while they ate.

Shannon was looking at something, but it wasn't out the window. She was looking at him, dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt over a Henley T-shirt—all outdoorsy and wintery, his heavy five o'clock shadow making him look very rugged and handsome.

“It's like a postcard out there,” Dag added, forcing Shannon to amend her gaze to take in what he was marveling at.

He was right, but it was his awe-filled admiration of his hometown that made Shannon smile. Well, that and just how much she liked the way his face was lined with pleasure.

“You really love it here,” she said.

“There's nowhere else I want to be.”

“I don't really know much about your background,” she said then, when his appreciation for Northbridge struck her as somewhat curious. “I know you grew up here, but it seems like you've moved around as an adult. And since you just bought Gramma's house, I guess I assumed you've lived somewhere else until now, that you're
just moving back. If you love Northbridge so much, why
haven't
you always lived here?”

“It was the hockey—no team in Northbridge,” he said simply. And as if she should know what he was talking about.

“I've figured out that you
like
hockey,” she said, confused. “But you wouldn't live here just because there isn't a team?”

Something seemed to strike him suddenly and he smiled a wide smile. “I played hockey. I played hockey to get me through college and then I played it professionally in Detroit.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, for Shannon to put two and two together. In all the mentions of Dag and hockey, there had never been anything about him playing
professionally
. She'd thought that it was a passion of his, that he'd probably played in school, that maybe he played recreationally, the way Wes golfed. It had never occurred to her that hockey had been Dag's
career
.

“Seriously?” she said. “You were a professional hockey player?”

“Past tense. I suppose I thought you knew because everyone around here does. Everyone who knows me knows. And…well, a lot of people know—it's the kind of thing that's…well…known….”

“You're a celebrity and I completely missed it?” Shannon exclaimed with a laugh.

Dag grimaced. “Not really a
celebrity
. But making a living at a professional sport is kind of a public occupation. And my career ended with a splash, so most of the time, people know I played hockey for a living without my telling them.”

“I didn't,” Shannon confessed. “I've never been interested in any sport. Or who plays. I completely stop
paying attention to anything that comes up that has to do with sports. I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“When did you stop playing?”

“About this time two years ago.” But rather than go on with that, he returned to the original topic. “So, no, I haven't lived in Northbridge since I left for college—”

“Where you also played hockey—”

“On a full scholarship to the University of North Dakota—go Fighting Sioux!” he said in a joking cheer. “Then the Red Wings signed me so I moved to Michigan. I came back to Northbridge for extended visits whenever I could during the off-season, but that's all it's been—visits.”

“And you missed it?”

“Oh, yeah! Not only is Northbridge home, but there's just something about it that you don't find in other places. It's like this secret safe haven from the rest of the world.”

“Bad things never happen here?” Shannon teased him because he was so over-the-top about this place.

“Sure, bad things happen everywhere. But when they happen here, you're never alone with it. Everyone jumps in and does whatever they can to help. You're a prime example of that—when your folks were killed in that car wreck, the cops brought you to Meg's grandfather, the reverend. He let word out that there were kids who needed homes and slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am, you got homes.”

“Chase didn't.”

“No, Chase sort of fell through the cracks on that score. But he did grow up here and even though his foster father was a jerk, Chase still came away from Northbridge liking it enough to move back.”

There was no disputing that.

“Northbridge is…” Dag shrugged as if it was difficult to sum up. “It's the kind of place where I know when I first start to farm, to ranch this spring, every other farmer, every other rancher around here will be willing to lend me a hand if I need it, to share his or her secrets—well, most of them anyway. Butch Butler will never tell anybody what he's feeding that prize pig of his. But you get the picture. Plus there's this—”

He motioned toward the window.

“Every city and town decorates for Christmas,” Shannon pointed out.

“It isn't the decorations, it's everything that goes with it—the spirit of things, the way everyone gets into this holiday and all the rest. The way a wedding or a new baby is happy, important news no matter whose family it is. The way people around here just
care
. I like that.”

“Family, team sports, this town—I think there's a theme with you,” Shannon said.

Dag laughed. “I hadn't thought about it like that, but you're right—I am
not
a loner. I like being a part of a close-knit group that's working and playing together.”

Once they'd finished eating, their waitress appeared tableside to ask if they'd like anything else. When they said no, she set down the bill and two complimentary cookies that looked like small frosted knots.

“The owner's aunt makes these cookies at Christmas—they're Italian anise knots. I love them, they taste like licorice,” Dag explained as he paid the bill.

They ate the cookies as they moved on to the town square where the gazebo was completely lit by tiny white lights. All the fir trees were decorated and lit up, too. More Victorian-style streetlights lined the outer perimeter of the square and had strings of the bough-
and-ribbon-wrapped lights draped between them to illuminate the entire area.

Before dinner they had stopped at Dag's truck to leave their day's purchases and to get his ice skates. Now Shannon rented a pair for herself from a stand by the rink.

“It doesn't matter—because I can teach you—but do you ice skate?” Dag asked as they sat on the benches that lined the ice just inside the decorated railing.

“I used to,” Shannon said. “I haven't since I was a teenager, and even then I preferred wheels to blades.”

“You'll have to come back in the summer, then—when the ice melts, there's roller skating and skateboarding here.”

Shannon was perplexed by why that should have any appeal at all, but it did. She didn't respond, though, and once their skates were in place, Dag got up onto his first. Then he spun around to face her and hold out his hands to help her get to her feet.

“You're just assuming I'm going to be a klutz?” she joked.

His only answer was an engaging grin while his hands remained outstretched to her, waiting to be taken.

They both had on gloves so she thought it was safe enough to accept his help. But even through two layers of knitted wool just the meeting of their hands sent a warmth all through her.

But it only lasted a moment because she had to concentrate on maintaining her precarious balance.

“It's been a
very
long time since I was on skates,” she said, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, you're a little wobbly, but you'll get the feel for it again,” Dag said as he steadied her and began to skate backward to tow her out onto the ice at a snail's pace.

He was right, it didn't take Shannon long to regain the knack of ice skating. But once that happened, even when Dag let go of her and turned to skate at her side, she was no match for him. He glided so effortlessly across the ice that there were times as they circled the rink with the rest of the skaters that Shannon glanced down to make sure he wasn't just floating.

But she didn't mind that he was better than she was. There was Christmas music playing over a speaker system, there were lots of people laughing and enjoying themselves—despite a few spills on the ice here and there—and there were kids galore.

And if Shannon hadn't just found out over dinner that Dag had played professional hockey, she would have discovered it then because many of those kids—as well as a few of the adults—seemed awestruck to be seeing Dag on the ice. They mentioned games and plays in which he'd apparently dazzled them.

But in spite of the friendliness and the adulation, Dag was all hers. He answered whatever greeting or question or comment was aimed at him, he introduced her whenever the opportunity arose, but nothing and no one ever took him from her side or kept his primary focus from her.

They skated for about an hour before the cold seeped through Shannon's wool coat and earmuffs, through the crewneck sweater she was wearing, through the turtleneck that was underneath the sweater, even through her jeans.

Dag didn't appear as affected as she was, but before she had found the words to tell him that she was freezing, he said, “Home?” as if he'd read her mind. And Shannon jumped at the suggestion.