All I Want For Christmas (5 page)

“Yes, dear, I know” his mother said indulgently. “But women never get tired of seeing the ripple of muscles, even if they do belong to family.”

Grant rolled his eyes and heaved the massive turkey into the oven, glad that he was in good shape. There was no way that bird weighed twenty pounds. More like fifty. His female relatives broke into applause and then promptly went back to orchestrating a dinner for twenty-seven people. He took the moment of their distraction to grab his leather jacket and scarf and escape out the kitchen door before they could find something else for him to do. It wasn’t until he got outdoors that he realized he’d left his beer on the kitchen counter.

“It’s just not worth going back for,” he muttered, shuddering at the thought.

Fresh snow crunched underfoot as he walked down the sloping back yard into the trees behind the house. Winter hadn’t been kind to Surrender that year, and it was far from over. Already the grey clouds were pregnant and ready to burst with the next round of fat white flakes.

The entire family would be sleeping under one roof that night so they could wake up together on Christmas morning (the kids were told that it was easier for Santa to make one stop), so there was no need for him to worry that anyone would be stuck out in the storm.

The late afternoon sunlight was fading, and he lifted his face up, so the cold slapped at his cheeks, and he inhaled the brittle air deep into his lungs. He loved this time of year. The beauty the snow brought to the land—the hushed quiet as it blanketed bare branches and the empty fields where farmers would plant come the spring and let their cattle and horses graze.

There was no purpose to his steps as he hopped over fallen branches that had snapped off the trees from the cold. He didn’t know exactly where he was going or the heavy need inside of him to get there quickly. He just knew he needed to escape for a little while. To be alone inside his head.

He’d always felt at home in Surrender. Settled. He’d had no dreams or desires to ever leave the town he was born in or travel the world—unlike his siblings and cousins. They’d all left at some point to go to school or find jobs, and yeah, his cousins had come back to raise their families, but they’d had that one taste of freedom before committing themselves to staying home.

His brothers and Darcy were no better. Cade was headed to Texas, and Declan and Shane were only ever in Surrender long enough to catch a quick night’s rest before they were off again. And Darcy was working on her Master’s Degree in business. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with it yet, but she knew whatever it was wouldn’t be in Surrender. She couldn’t wait to get out of there.

But not Grant. He was completely happy where he was. He loved his home, and he’d built his company from the ground up and had a steady business that had been in the black for the last six years. But he was looking for more. What made him the most different from his siblings is that he wasn’t shying away from marriage at all. In fact, he was actively looking for someone to spend his life with. Someone he could come home to and share a quiet evening with. Someone he could be comfortable with. Peace and contentment were something he knew most people never really achieved in their lives, but he was determined.

No, the thought of marriage didn’t have him running at all. It sounded…nice. He could find a sweet, intelligent woman he could have meaningful conversations with. She would be pleasant to look at, give him children and be every man’s dream at night when the lights went out. It shouldn’t be too hard to find someone to fit his expectations.

The only problem was that this was Surrender. He knew ever person in the tiny town, warts and all, and the only woman he could think of who fit his ideal was completely unsuitable. Annabeth Martin had been running around the MacKenzie house since she was a little girl, and she and Darcy had been thick as thieves for most of their lives. But it hadn’t been until recently that he’d found himself watching Annabeth—the way her flame bright hair looked hot to the touch or the way the lush curves of her body fit just right in the stylish clothes she wore. He’d woken up more than one night in a cold sweat with the images of Annabeth lying soft and warm beneath him as he rocked into her burned into his brain.

In fact, it had gotten so bad that he’d taken to avoiding her whenever he saw her in town or when she was at the house visiting Darcy. Annabeth might be starring in his dreams, but she was six years younger than he was and seemed anything but ready to settle down with a husband and family. She hung out with Darcy for Christ’s sake, and Grant could only assume that Annabeth was as wild and untamed as his sister, though she’d always seemed the shyer of the two.

He’d seen the way the other young men in town had started to pant after her. The way she’d give them a friendly smile and never show interest in one particular man, only making them all want her more. Grant had never heard whispers about her from the town gossips, but he couldn’t imagine that she didn’t entertain her fair share of interested men. She had a body made for loving, and just the thought of her with some nameless, faceless man had his hands clenching in fists at his sides.

No, Annabeth Martin was still sowing wild oats and was a long way off from wanting the same things he did. Since there were no other women in town he had an interest in, he had no choice but to leave town. Not permanently, but just long enough to find the right woman and then move back home.

Grant rubbed a hand over his stomach at the thought of moving away, even for a short time. His business was doing well enough that he could open another office in one of the bigger cities. Surely he could fall in love in a few months, and then be back home before the end of summer. It’s not like leaving was permanent.

The thought of his mother finding out that he was about to approach marriage in such a cut and dried way made him grimace. He knew exactly what she’d say, because they’d had the talk before.

“Grant,” she’d said. “You can’t plan falling in love. It’ll happen when you least expect it. And of all my children, I’m not sure there’s anyone more who needs to be knocked upside the head by Cupid. Love isn’t something you can plan or map out like one of your building projects. I’m afraid you’re in for a rude awakening one day, my love.”

Which was all fine and good, but he didn’t want to wait for one day. He was ready for it to happen now. He was thirty years old, he was healthy and he was solvent. He was just tired of spending his nights alone. No one, not even his mother, could begrudge him a little happiness.

After a two mile walk, his heart was pumping and his muscles were warm despite the cold. His breath puffed out in white clouds as he exited out the other side of the trees into a small clearing. The lake was frozen and the last rays of sunlight gleamed off the icy surface. It was less than a mile to his little cabin through the trees on the back side of the lake, and he debated whether or not he should head back to the MacKenzie house and bedlam, or crash on his couch with some bids he’d been working on for the next couple of hours.

All his plans changed when he heard the crack of ice that echoed like a gunshot through the air. He hadn’t noticed her when he’d glanced at the lake, the sun casting her in shadow. They locked eyes in shock and fear as another crack rent the air. Her face was pale and her flame colored hair seemed brighter than usual with the backdrop of white.

“Annabeth,” he said, running toward the edge of the lake, his heart in his throat. “Don’t move a muscle.”

She barely had time to scream before she fell through to the icy waters below.

Chapter Two

Annabeth Martin never thought of Christmas as anything more than another day of the week. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was thirteen the week before Christmas, and the only family she’d had left was a great aunt that made Ebenezer Scrooge look like a spendthrift.

So after her thirteenth year, Christmas had ceased to exist. There were no gifts, no decorations and no big family dinners. And when her aunt had died the month after she’d graduated from high school, she saw no reason to keep doing anything differently. Christmas only meant something to the people who had someone to share it with. She didn’t believe in it, and she certainly didn’t hold stock to the miracles people and songs were always going on about.

Her best friend, Darcy MacKenzie, always invited her over to celebrate the holidays with them, but Annabeth could never bring herself to say yes. Not when
he
would be there. Every time she saw Grant MacKenzie her tongue tied itself into knots and she became the shy, reserved girl she’d been all through junior high and high school. She suspected Darcy knew her feelings, but Darcy was a loyal friend and had never approached the subject.

It didn’t matter anyway. Grant had never once looked her direction, and it seemed more and more that lately he’d been bent on avoiding her. But it didn’t matter. Those were the foolish dreams of a girl. There was no way in hell that any of the MacKenzies were ready to settle down, especially since she’d heard Darcy and Cade and Declan all lamenting on tying themselves down that way. She was perfectly content with her life, and she was used to being alone. She certainly didn’t need Grant.

She’d made her mark in Surrender, and she was happy with her accomplishments. The little dress boutique she’d opened after college was doing well, and she’d saved money by converting the upstairs of the shop into an apartment. The women in Surrender were more than enough to keep her in business since they’d have to drive all the way into the city to get the latest styles if her shop wasn’t there, but she’d picked up a lot of business from the other small ranching towns that surrounded them too.

When she’d rolled out of bed that morning, the heat of Grant’s body still burned onto her skin and the climax that had torn through her dreams shaking her down to the core, there had been a moment of weakness inside of her that made her hope. She’d seen the last light of the fading stars and made her Christmas wish. She’d never asked for anything before. Never hoped for anything. So shouldn’t that make her wishes more important to whoever was listening?

But the stars had faded and reality had settled in. Anger at herself had her sticking to her normal routine and opening her shop, even though she hadn’t expected to get much business. But what the hell, Christmas Eve was just another day of the week.

It turned out opening the shop was a good idea. She made several last minute sales to men who’d forgotten to get their wives something. Fortunately, she kept records of sizes and preferences every time a client bought something, so she was able to help them out. But when the customers had stopped coming in a little after noon, she’d finally given in and closed up shop. There was nowhere to go except upstairs to her apartment—the bars and restaurants were closed, and her friends were with their families.

Annabeth’s customers seemed to enjoy the trappings of Christmas, so she went through the motions and wished them all a happy holidays. She turned off the Christmas lights that decorated her front windows, blew out the candles, and turned off Nat King Cole in the middle of singing about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. But when she walked upstairs, her apartment was barren of any ornamentation. Not one Christmas item could be found in the space, and when she looked at it detachedly, it seemed cold and lonely and just a little bit sad. It was hard not think of the families who were even now getting children ready for Santa to come or preparing food or sweets for the big family dinners filled with laughter and love—which was exactly where Grant would be. She quashed down the yearning that filled her and tried to busy herself.

The book she’d chosen left her attention waning as she curled on the couch, and the wine she’d poured to soothe the jagged edges of disappointment tasted bitter on her tongue. It was then she thought of the lake that sat in the middle of MacKenzie land. She and Darcy had skated there often enough when they were children, and a little fresh air and exercise was probably exactly what she needed.

She wrapped up in her royal blue coat and the hot pink scarf that clashed with her hair, grabbed her skates, and drove her ten year old Honda down the rutted path to MacKenzie land. She parked at the edge of a white rail fence and walked the next mile with her skates thrown over her shoulder.

By the time she got to the lake, the clouds had started to gather and turn a smoky gray, but she estimated she had at least another hour before the snow would hit. Plenty of time. Then she could go home, drink some hot chocolate, and get some paperwork done before going to bed.

Gliding around the ice and feeling the wind against her face had done more for her spirit than anything she’d experienced in a while. She didn’t think of her loneliness or lack of someone who loved her, just the air as it stung her cheeks and whipped her hair into tangles. The freedom of moving with reckless speed and taking in the quiet of her surroundings made a laugh bubble in her throat and echo off the trees. But it was quickly choked off as Grant MacKenzie walked out of the trees like some sort of apparition come to haunt her. Even in solitude, she couldn’t seem to get away from the powerful need she had for him.

She shook her head, sure that her mind was playing tricks on her and he’d disappear just as quickly as he’d come. The sun glinted off hair that was as dark and thick as mink. His scarf was wrapped loosely around his collar and his leather jacket was open, showing a hunter green sweater and a pair of worn jeans. He must have escaped in a hurry, she thought. The MacKenzies had a tendency to be a little overwhelming when they were all in the same room.

If she hadn’t been so caught up at the sight of him, she’d have been paying attention to where she was skating. The loud crack the ice made as she skated over a particularly weak section had her skidding to a stop, her muscles coiled in tension as she tried not to do anything more jarring than breathe.

She watched as his head jerked at the sound and their eyes met. His mossy green eyes widened in terror and he yelled out, “Annabeth, don’t move a muscle.”