We Need a Little Christmas (22 page)

So he kept going until he reached his old standby, Coffman's Hardware. Tools and supplies, nuts and bolts. It was nice to think there was someplace where things could be fixed.

* * *

Liv's cell phone rang in her pocket. It had become such an infrequent sound that she jumped. What now? Another curveball from Terri?

Wriggling on the living room floor, she worked the phone free and glanced at the caller ID.

“Scotty?” She reverted to his old nickname without thinking.

“Yeah, me. I wanted to say thanks for the peanut brittle.”

Her hand tightened around the phone. “You're welcome.”

A pause. “And I'm sorry about the other day. I never should have tried to tell you what you should do. It wasn't my place.”

Liv hugged her free arm tight around her knees.

He asked, “Are you taking the tree with you?”

“I—” The words froze in her throat as she stared at the silver tree. Somehow she hadn't thought of that. If she was keeping the tree, she should have boxed it up tonight. She still had time to do it. Boxing up a Christmas tree alone at midnight—what an exercise in depression that would be.

“I left it up for my mom,” she lied. “It's too soon after Christmas to take it down.”

Mom would be thrilled about that, what with her healing knee and her well-known love for the tinsel branches and all their static shocks. Liv tried to think of someone she could enlist to help her mom take the tree down, but the only person she could think of was Scotty.

And, she realized, she was leaving her mother with two hundred feet of last-minute Christmas lights hanging on the house. So much left unfinished.

Scott's voice jarred her out of her thoughts. “Do you have a ride to the airport tomorrow?”

“I've got one of those airport shuttles picking me up.”

“From Ontario to Tall Pine?” he scoffed. “That'll cost a fortune.” He paused. “I can give you a lift. If you want.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Don't be silly.” This time she heard real warmth in his voice. “You know I'll take you.”

And suddenly, Liv's throat felt huge. It ached.

That ache should tell her a ride from Scott was probably a really, really bad idea.

She reminded herself again of her eight-hundred-dollar plane ticket. That ought to keep her anchored to reality.

“Liv?” Scott prompted.

“You're not going to try to get me to change my mind, are you?” Her voice sounded muffled and unfamiliar to her own ears.

A short bark of laughter bruised her ego. “Try to change
your
mind? I'd like to see the guy who could pull that off.”

She clutched her hand around the phone. Ego or no ego, she'd miss that laugh.

“Besides,” he went on, less brusquely, “Texas needs tidy closets. Right?”

“Right.” Liv pushed the words out. “Okay. If you're sure.”

“I'm sure.”

* * *

If he'd been driving his truck backward, this could pretty much pass for a rewind of his trip down the freeway with Liv at the beginning of the month.

Sitting beside him, staring out the windshield, Liv was silent and distracted. Scott would have given just about anything to make her smile, but he seemed to be out of material.

“I'll give your mom a call in a couple of days,” he offered. “She'll need a hand getting decorations down.”

It got her eyes off the road, at any rate. “You don't have to do that.”

“I'm going to add that to the list of forbidden phrases,” he said.

He stopped himself from pointing out that Faye had paid him more than he'd billed her as it was. That kind of discussion would just send Liv's gaze back out the windshield. Instead, he asked, “Who the heck hung those Christmas lights, anyway?”

That brought a sheepish smile. “Me. I got a little—restless.”

He ached to squeeze her hand, but resolutely kept both hands on the wheel.

When they got to the airport, Liv tried to talk him into dropping her off at the passenger unloading area without parking. As if he'd leave her alone to struggle with her bags. Or tip some stranger to do it. She fell silent again, enduring the lines and the crowds as he went with her through the process of scanning her ticket and checking her bags. When her red suitcases disappeared behind the counter, she turned to face him with a small smile, as if she'd shed some weight.

She wore a forest-green sweater, and it brought out the most amazing flecks of color in her hazel eyes. As if pulled by a magnet, Scott felt his hand reach up to touch her cheek. He'd promised not to say anything. But maybe he could say it without words.

“Thanks.” Liv took a step back, slipping away from his touch just as his fingers grazed her cheek. “I'd better find my gate.”

She turned, and he went with her. Scott had to admit to himself that, deep down, he'd hoped bringing her here would give her one more chance to change her mind. But she'd handed over the bags without a blink. If there'd been a window of opportunity, it was over now.

He should have said something. Maybe he'd finally hit his limit on getting turned down. He walked her to the passenger gate, winding them through the post-holiday throng with a sinking heart.

He
should
have said something.

But when had he ever been able to talk a female into anything?

When had he ever, sincerely, tried?

They reached the check-in line with the metal detector for people and the conveyor belt for their belongings. She could fly back, he told himself. She
would
be back, to see her mother, and probably a lot sooner this time. The pull of family ties had definitely strengthened for her on this trip. Maybe he'd been some small part of that. He didn't know. The idea made him feel a little better, at least.

She'd be back someday, but it wouldn't be the same. They'd exchange friendly smiles and keep a safe distance. Heck, maybe he'd even be married by then.

Conversation stopped again until it was Liv's turn in line. She loaded her coat, purse, and shoes onto the conveyor belt and turned to him. “This is where I leave you,” she said, her tone a little too bright.

She hugged him. And Scott felt a quick surge of hope. Because her arms wound tight around his neck, which wasn't easy, because she had to reach up pretty far to do it. She'd worn tennies today.

And he was fairly sure she was trembling. Or maybe it was him.

“Thanks for everything,” she said, close to his ear. “You were really patient. You put up with a lot. You deserve someone really special.”

The last words stung, but he had an answer ready. “That's what they all say.”

Because most of them had.

Chalk up another one
, he thought as she turned away, except this one had never really gotten off the ground. Maybe that was why this one hurt so much. But he knew it was more than that. So much more that when she stepped toward the metal detector, he took a step to follow her.

The steel-barred frame of the metal detector yawned before Liv.

Don't look back
, she thought.

She was following her shoes through that metal detector and getting on that plane alone. And she hated it.

She was a fraud and a coward. Stupidly, at the last minute, she'd started to hope Scott would say something. When she'd made it clear, every chance she could, that there was no chance she was staying. Now, at the last minute, she'd thought he might try to change her mind. She thought he even wanted to.

It was like a breath-holding contest.

An eight-hundred-dollar breath-holding contest. And she'd lost.

Time to put that ticket to use. She held her head high, squared her shoulders, and started through the metal detector as a voice inside her screamed,
NO.

As instinctively as a drowning victim flailing in the water, she reached her hand backward.

Scott's hand was there. It clasped hers firmly.

He yanked her back through to his side, bumping her into someone behind her. She didn't see who it was, because he pulled her into his arms.

“My purse—my shoes—”

Her words were muffled in his sweater; his arms had already wrapped around her tight. She felt him pull her away from the line, his solid form the only consistent thing as travelers bumped and shuffled past them.

“Don't go.” Under her ear, she felt his voice vibrate in his chest. “I know I'm not supposed to say it. But don't go.”

She lifted her face from the rough knit of his sweater. “I wanted you to say it,” she choked out. “But I couldn't say I wanted you to say—”

“Hush,” he whispered, and kissed her.

Standing on tiptoe, in her stocking feet, Liv held on tight and kissed him back.

She wasn't pulling away this time, Scott realized. And gradually, dimly, he became aware again of the hum of voices around them. They were standing in the middle of an airport. They should probably do something about that.

Reluctantly, Scott broke the kiss and gazed down at her. Liv's eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed. With his thumb, he caught the beginning of a stray tear under her eyelashes.

“You're sure about this?” he said softly. “Your purse and shoes, we can get. Your suitcases might already be on the plane.”

“We'll figure it out,” she whispered, her voice still shaky. “Just take me home.”

“Home,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

Liv melted against him. And, once again, Scott Leroux held a crying female in his arms.

But this time, he planned to hold on to her for the rest of his life.

Epilogue

“That one's Mom's.” Liv plucked the sequined bluebird gently from Scott's hand.

“I remember.”

Liv wrapped the bird in tissue and gingerly laid it in the canister of ornaments her mother was keeping.

It was January first. Time to put the silver tree away, but it wouldn't stay in the box as long this time. It would go up again next year. And if all their plans worked out, they'd be putting it up together, in Nammy's old house. The house they'd worked together to turn into a home.

“Ow!” Scott said. “I got another shock.”

“That's the price you pay for beauty.”

When all the decorations were down, Scott made one more trip around the tree, checking over the branches before they started to pull them off.

“Scott, I already looked. We got them all.”

“That's what you think. Any tree I've ever decorated, there's always at least one ornament that gets left over.” Scott circled to the back of the tree. “Aha!”

He stepped from behind the tree, brandishing a flat golden bell and wearing an
I-told-you-so
grin.

Liv frowned. “I already put away the bell.” She remembered putting it in the canister of ornaments she and Scott wanted to keep. And Nammy's engraved bell hadn't been in back; it had hung on a prominent place at the front of the tree.

Scott studied the decoration with a frown of his own, then handed it to her. “I don't remember this one. Did you hang it?”

Liv shook her head as she examined the ornament. It was another flat, gold-plated bell, just like the one Nammy had gotten engraved for her first Christmas with Liv's grandfather so many years ago. The one she'd ordered from the cereal they didn't make anymore. But this bell was new and shiny. And there was one other difference.

“The engraving space is blank,” Liv said.

Scott came up, put his arm around her shoulder, and looked at the pristine bell for a moment in silence.

“Well,” he said, “I guess that space is for our names.” Scott turned her to face him and smiled into her eyes. “All we need now is the date.”

In a medium saucepan, stir sweetened condensed milk into hot water and heat together over low flame. When mixture is hot—but not boiling!—add chocolate chips and stir continuously until chips are melted. Add vanilla, cinnamon, and ground cloves and stir over low heat until well blended. (If mixture is too rich for your taste, add a small amount of whole milk.)

 

May be topped with whipped cream and your choice of cookie décor sprinkles, crushed candy cane, cinnamon, chocolate shavings, chocolate sauce, or caramel sauce.

 

Add your own special touch of Christmas magic . . . and you never know what may happen!