Beach Blanket Santa (Holiday Brides Series) (9 page)

“To beat the living daylights out of whoever was breaking in
here.”

“What if it had been Santa? Since when have you taken to
clubbing geriatric citizens?”

Sarah lowered the umbrella and narrowed her gaze. “Hmm,
yes,” she said, growing suspicious. “What’s in the box?”

Matt scratched his head, his eyes darting toward the door,
then back toward hers again. “Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t/won’t. There’s a slash in there.”

“Matt…” she began. “I’m sure you weren’t fishing.”

“Got me there,” he said brightly. “Doesn’t mean I’m not
about to!”

“You mean you’re going down on the beach now?”

“Down on the beach. Into the waves. Knee-deep if I have to.
Yup.”

“Then what?”

“Then, I’m headed straight back up here and hitting the hay.
Precisely as you ought to.” He went about his work as he spoke, hoisting the
mysterious box and sliding it into his bedroom, then reemerging with a tackle
box and his fishing pole and its holder. My, he was acting strange. Odder than
she’d ever seen him.

“Are you sure you should be fishing at this hour?”

“Sarah, I’m a man of the wild. Nature and I? We’re like
this.” He set down his gear to lace his hands together in a tug. “Why don’t you
go back to bed? I’ll be back before long and will see you in the morning.”

“All right. If you’re sure?”

“Megapositive,” he said, picking up his gear and flashing
her a grin.

Matt left his gear under the house, then headed for the
beach, the beam of his flashlight leading. Whew! That had been close. He wasn’t
sure whether Sarah had believed his fishing story, but one way or another, he
was confident things would come out fine. Now, if he could just locate that
huge piece of driftwood he’d spotted when he and Sarah had been here earlier
today…

Matt trudged through the sludgy sand, his heart light. So
yeah, the beach roads were crappy. Impassable, in fact. In many ways, that was
the best Christmas gift he’d ever had. Out of the blue, life had delivered him
a second chance with Sarah. A woman from his past who could very well become a
permanent fixture in his future. Sarah was beautiful and funny and kind, just
the sort of person he’d always imagined himself winding up with. Him and a big
bustling passel of kids.

Matt stopped walking, shocked at his own thoughts. Had he
just considered making babies with Sarah? Yeah, he had, he thought, feeling his
lips tug into a broad grin. Not that he was accustomed to getting ahead of
himself, but Matt couldn’t help but wonder what that might be like. Just him
and Sarah—and their big happy brood— all adorning the family
Christmas tree with homemade decorations. Matt recalled how much fun it had
been sitting around the kitchen table, making those crafts with his sisters and
brother Robert. He’d even enjoyed working with his nieces last Christmas when
they’d taught him how to fashion Christmas stars from pieces of tinfoil with
little holes poked in them to let through the light. While he didn’t have
ornament hooks from which to hang them, he had fishing wire to use as a handy
substitution. Yes sir, his plan was going to work out fine. All he had to hope
was that the tide hadn’t washed out his special surprise.

Chapter Seven

Sarah awakened early and stretched in bed. She didn’t know
what had caused her to rise before seven o’clock. Generally, she slept until eight.
Then suddenly she remembered. Of course! Today was Christmas Day! But what did
that matter, really? How much could she expect at a beach house on the rugged
North Carolina coast? She’d never partaken much in Christmas, anyway. And here
she was, stuck with a man who’d never even expected her to be here. And was
much less prepared to make the holiday special for her, besides. Sarah unfolded
the simple poem she’d composed for Matt, hoping it wasn’t desperately inane.
All she’d longed to do was give him something of her heart. She’d wanted to say
thank you and had thought for a brief moment that this was a good way to start.
Now, looking down at her uneven scrawl, she doubted her instincts. What if he
thought her a fool, or worse yet—questioned her iambic pentameter?
Sarah’s poetry had never been in perfect rhythm, but at least it was concise
and summarized what she wanted to say.

After Matt had sent her to bed, she’d stayed up an extra
hour trying hard to fashion its lines. He’d been so kind, and all she meant to
say was thank you.
Thanks for being the
kind of guy I’d always believed was in this world.
Since Sarah had been a
little girl, she’d been putting words together. Sometimes clumsily; at others,
in a neatly arrayed fashion. Her English teachers had told her she had talent,
though she’d refused in many ways to believe it. What was important to her more
than anything was reaching the people she felt driven to write for. Since
coming here, Matt had become one of those people.

Sarah folded over the page, deciding that she’d have to give
it to him. Most especially because what they had might not last. And, in the
end, she thought with a heavy heart, it was destined not to.

Matt put on the finishing touches, feeling exhausted. He’d
work hard all night to ensure everything would come off right. Since he was
committed to protecting the environment, he hadn’t been about to insult a
flourishing pine. Instead, he’d selected found driftwood as the perfect
stand-in “Charlie Brown” yuletide tree. With the summer deck lights strung
around it, it looked almost festive. The tinfoil ornaments he’d fashioned
thanks to his nieces’ help had been a boon. Just last season, he’d sat with the
three little girls around his mom’s kitchen table. They’d taught him a trick
they’d learned in Brownie Scouts. How to create shiny star ornaments from
cutout pieces of aluminum foil, dotted with pinprick holes to let through the
light. They were somewhat reminiscent of Mexican lanterns, only hung from the
branches of this wayward tree. Matt felt lucky that, in lieu of ornament hooks,
he’d had fishing wire with which to secure them. He hoped with all his heart
that Sarah would enjoy it. It certainly looked regal enough, standing nearly
five feet tall and spreading its spindling braches wide on all sides.

Matt thought he heard stirring from Sarah’s room and debated
whether to flee or to stay and wish her a merry Christmas. Before he’d fully
processed that thought, she opened her bedroom door and suddenly appeared.

“Oh my.” She brought her palms to her perfectly pink cheeks.
“What’s this?”

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his tone husky.

She stopped in her tracks and met his gaze, her voice
wavering. “Is this what I think it is?”

He turned to her, his heart pounding. Of all the mornings
he’d ever experienced, this was the one he hoped would go off right. “Your very
own Christmas tree.”

She approached it slowly, then gingerly touched one of its
branches. “Driftwood?” she asked, amazement in her eyes.

“I had to get creative,” he answered honestly.

“Oh, Matt,” she said, her voice cracking. She’d never had
anyone do something like this for her before. How he’d done it or where he’d
found the lights and decorations, she had no idea. But one thing was clear, the
look in his eyes said he’d done it all for her. So this was what he’d been up
to late last night with that box and why he’d snuck down on the beach. She
gingerly touched one of the stars, and it pivoted on its thin wire, tiny arrays
of light streaking through its pattern of holes. “Did you make this?”

He smiled, and the tears that had been aching to break
through poured from her eyes. “I can’t believe you did this… Did this all for
me.”

“I wanted to do something for you. Something to show you you’re
special.”

How she wanted to show him he was special too. Sarah debated
about giving him the poem but decided to put it off until later. She wasn’t
sure how he might take it, and, given how well things were going now, she didn’t
want to put a damper on them. “Thank you. It’s wonderful. Probably the most
wonderful Christmas gift I’ve ever received.”

He took her in his arms. “I was hoping to make this day
great for you.”

“It couldn’t be any more perfect,” she said, looking up in
his eyes. And it was true. Sarah was feeling so bright and hopeful this
morning. So positive, in fact, that she didn’t want any sort of negativity to
get in the way. Ever since that first late-night conversation with Matt, she’d
struggled with her attraction to him and been conflicted about becoming
involved. But he was so warm and wonderful, it was hard not to be tempted to
let those doubts slide. Just once, Sarah wanted to feel good about things and
bask in this dynamite man’s attentions. Would it really be so wrong for them to
have one ideal day where she could let herself go and live in the moment?

Matt glanced sideways, then sexily cocked an eyebrow. “Not
even…if it’s snowing?”

She stared in delight out the large glass door to see a
billion little white flakes driving down in droves to coat the deck framing the
ocean. The scene was lovely, magical in its unexpected beauty. Matt took her
hand and led her toward the door. “Come on!”

“We can’t go out there like this!” she said, referring to
their sleeping attire.

“You’re right.” He nabbed a throw blanket from the sofa.
“We’ll use this to keep us warm.”

But when he led her outdoors, Sarah realized she wouldn’t
need the blanket at all. Matt scooped her in his arms, wrapping the blanket
around them as snow beat down on the deck. She looked up at him as a smile worked
its way across his handsome face. “There really is a Santa,” she said. Snow
drove down harder, coating their hair with tiny white flakes. He brushed his
lips to hers, and her world went all warm and fuzzy, in spite of the freezing
cold. “I’m looking at him.”

“You’re all I want for Christmas. I’m so happy you’re here.”

He kissed her harder then, his deep passion sweeping her
away while the wind and the snow swirled around them and the pounding ocean echoed
the rhythm of their hearts.

A little while later, they sat wrapped up in a fresh blanket
on the sofa before a cozy fire, both sipping from mugs of hot cocoa. “I’ve
never had a holiday like this,” she told Matt honestly. “This one’s been like a
dream.”

“And it’s not over yet.” He gave her shoulder a tight hug.
“I was thinking of making us some gumbo for Christmas dinner. How does that
sound?”

“Delicious. Do you have everything you need?”

“Catch of the Day,” he said with a grin.

Sarah gasped at his revelation. “Are you saying you really
went fishing last night?”

“It was more like early this morning, but yeah.”

“I thought you were sneaking outdoors, preparing all this.”
She motioned to the makeshift Christmas tree beside them, sharing its homey
glow.

“I was,” he told her. “But once I’d set the driftwood under
the house to dry out a bit, I came back and got my fishing gear. You’ll really
like the gumbo, I think. It’s not exactly turkey and stuffing, but—”

“It sounds great. Just let me know what I can do to help.”

He wriggled his eyebrows. “Are you making a play to start
cooking with me again?”

She laughed. “Might be.”

“You won’t have to offer twice.” He smiled softly. “Though
I’ve got to admit making a roux won’t be nearly as sexy as baking cookies.”

Her lips took a downward turn. “Darn.”

He took her hand in his. “How did I get so lucky? One day
I’m all over women, and the next, there you are.”

“All over women?”

“It doesn’t matter, really. I’m just happy my brother
insisted I come here to get away.”

“So it was Robert’s idea, was it?”

“Uh-huh. Was it yours or Elaine’s?”

“Elaine’s, actually.”

He gave a hearty laugh. “Well, God bless them both. We’ll
have to drink a toast to them later.”

Sarah had fun helping Matt with the gumbo. Though he’d been
right, making a roux wasn’t nearly as sexy as baking cookies. It required
devoted attention to hot oil and flour, and careful timing with tossing in
chopped onions and celery. After a delicious dinner filled with easy
conversation and laughter, Sarah helped Matt with the cleanup, which was
minimal.

“What would you like to do now?” he asked her. “Shall we
look for a movie?”

But Sarah was having so much fun talking with Matt, she
didn’t want to find them caught up in something like that. “Maybe we could turn
on some music and just visit awhile?”

“Sounds great to me.” He went to the living area to survey
the CDs, neatly alphabetized on some built-in shelves. “What will it be?
Christmas music or the Beach Boys?”

“Hmm. Tough decision. Why don’t we go with Beach Boys. I
mean, given where we are.”

He grinned and loaded the CD. When
Little St. Nick
began to play, Sarah laughed. “Looks like we’re
getting both! The Beach Boys
and
Christmas.”

“At least with this song,” he said with a chuckle.

She carried her wine to the sofa, but before she could get
there, Matt approached.

“Care to dance?”

 
“Sure,” she
said, setting her glass aside. The music was catchy and upbeat as he took her
in his arms and they bounced happily to its tune. He twirled her under his arm,
then whirled her back toward him, tucking her up against him. She laughed
heartily. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”

“In North Carolina, they call this shag dancing. It’s big in
the beach areas.”

 
When the song
ended, a slower one started. Sarah turned to head back to the sofa, but Matt
stopped her by taking her hand.

“Don’t go.”

She gazed up at him, and blue eyes sparkled, warm in the
firelight’s glow. “I need you to stay with me,” he said, his voice gone husky,
as
Don’t Worry, Baby
began. “Stay in
my arms.”