Hers for the Holidays (10 page)

He wasn’t sure that was even his role in her life. They had a good physical relationship—mind-bending sex—and he knew she didn’t want more than that, aside from a casual friendship.

That was what he wanted, too. When they went back to Philly, they’d just go on with their lives, and see each other now and then. But for right now, he could try to make things better for her however he could.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing her again as he slung an arm around her and headed toward the door.

“Um, Ely, the bedroom is that way,” she said, gesturing at the stairs. “Not that a bed is necessary,” she added provocatively.

He almost changed his mind, but ultimately stuck with his plan. He knew exactly the kind of adventure that would help get Lydia out of her funk.

Retrieving her coat and gloves from the stand by the door he simply smiled mischievously. “Let’s go outside this time.”

“Are you crazy? It’s freezing out there! We can’t, um, do anything out there. And there are people around.”

He took her hat, tugging it on over her ears and pulling it down. “Trust me. And don’t forget your boots.”

Reluctantly, she did as she was told, following him outside.

He pulled her by the hand toward the barn, and she ran alongside to meet his stride. Catching up with him, she looked both worried, and excited, her eyes darting from the barn to the men who waved as they went by.

“Ely, we can’t...let’s go back inside.”

“We can...c’mon,” he said, urging her along through the barn and out the back door.

Standing there, she looked at him in yet more confusion.

“Behind the barn? In this weather? No way,” she said, starting to turn away to head back in. “Even I have a few limits. Things will...freeze up out here.”

“Just wait a second, wait here,” he said, and took off down the side of the barn.

Ely hit the edge of the building then doubled back into the field a ways, heading back toward the spot where Lydia stood, muttering something he couldn’t hear.

His evil plan in motion, he found a drift that would act as a nice bunker, and picked up some nice fresh snow, packing it into the size of a baseball that he then lobbed through the air—it caught her in the arm, making her jump.

At first, he thought maybe he scared her, and that she thought someone might be bugging her again, but then he saw her eyes narrow, and her hands planted on her hips.

“Ely, where are you?” she called.

He answered with another snowball that hit her in the thigh.

“You’re a pretty easy target, just standing there,” he taunted from his spot in the snow. The sun was shining down and he actually felt warm even with the frigid reading on the thermometer.

“Oh, don’t dare me. You’ll wish you hadn’t,” she threatened, scanning the landscape. Her eyes drifted over him several times.

“I hear lots of talk, but don’t see any action,” he yelled, lobbing yet another snowball that smacked into the barn behind her head.

“Oh, you are so dead,” she hollered and took off running into the field down behind some large mountains of snow that Smitty had piled up with the tractor.

Ely tried to track her progress—he’d chosen the red hat for her on purpose—but she was so small that she easily disappeared behind the snowbanks. After a few minutes of surveying the field, he started to worry she had perhaps gone back inside and abandoned the fight.

And that was exactly what she wanted, apparently.

A banshee yell from behind him had him spinning around, startled, and her attack plan worked. Standing at the top of a drift behind him, she took advantage of his surprise and pelted him with several huge snowballs, pulling them from her pockets like hand grenades. Only a few missed their aim, the last one smacking him directly in the forehead.

Damn, Lydia would have made a good Marine, he thought, putting his hands up and laughing as he defended against the attack. He had no choice but to mount an aggressive counterattack, and gathered up his own ammunition, heading toward her, running directly into her fire, and launching his own five.

Out of ammo, she was laughing hysterically as he tried to climb the mountain of snow that she stood at, scooping handfuls of snow down toward him as he fought his way up the hill. Ely didn’t give up, throwing his snowballs the best he could with the white stuff flying all around him. He was breathless with laughter and the effort of the climb as well once he reached the top.

Lydia clearly knew she was toast and tried to run, but he launched himself forward into the snow and caught her ankle, pulling her down. She landed face-first, as well.

Unmoving, or moving just a little as she pushed one hand down into the snow, she grunted, and Ely’s laughter ceased.

“Crap,” he said, pushing to his feet—no easy task in the deep snow they were mired in, and making his way to her. He had gotten carried away and played too rough, and kicked himself all the way over to where she was still trying to right herself.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, and reached to pull her up as best he could, losing his own balance a bit.

She groaned, as if in pain, and he kicked himself even harder.

“I’m so sorry, honey, I—
oof.
”

Ely’s words were cut off by a mouthful of snow as she took handfuls and smushed them in his face as if they were a pie, grinning with evil glee.

He’d been had.

Spitting snow, he shook his head as she clapped her hands and laughed even harder.

“Sucker,” she said, doing a wiggly little dance, still on her back in the snow in some semblance of a snow angel. A tricky, sexy, sneaky, gorgeous snow angel. “I win,” she taunted.

Ely smirked as he looked down at her from where he knelt in the snow and fell down in the snow beside her, picking her up and rolling her over on top of him.

“Yeah, I suppose you did,” he said, loving how her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright. Snow clung everywhere to her, like crystals, and she looked young and carefree—the woman borne of the pretty young girl in the photo on the mantel.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so open, so joyful—not even during sex—and it touched him. It touched him deeply.

“What?” she said, studying his face and sensing his change of mood.

“Nothing. Come here,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her down to him.

Holding her tight to him, he found her mouth for a long, warming kiss, touching the tip of his tongue to hers, then exploring deeper as her hands clutched the front of his coat and she sank in.

Ely was aware of the cold snow at his back, and it provided a stark contrast to the heat of her body over him, making him hard in seconds as she moved against him.

“Maybe we should take this inside,” she whispered into his ear.

He nodded, unable to take his eyes off of her, sure he had never seen anything as beautiful as her face right there in that moment.

She pushed up, with his help, and he got to his feet effortlessly, as well. He had a lot of motivation to get back to the house, and didn’t want anything to shatter the magic between them in this instant. He didn’t know what it was, but he hadn’t ever felt anything quite like it.

But that was too much to ask for, as it turned out.

As they made their way through the barn—too wrapped up in each other to notice much of anything else—they failed to spot the extra cars parked over by the garage at first.

“Lydia, there you are,” a voice called from the porch, and Ely looked up to see two women he recognized—plus a few others—eyeing them with keen interest.

He imagined they made quite the picture, wrapped around each other, soaked from snow, making their way toward the house.

Faith’s features furrowed in concern. “Are you okay? You guys are wet to the bone. Did you have an accident?”

To his surprise, Lydia laughed.

“Snowball fight. I won.”

The women seemed to not quite know what to do with that information.

“We came over to do inventory, but thought we could also help you start cleaning out a bit, as we agreed,” Geri said.

Lydia stiffened in his hold, broke away, smiling stiffly again and saying the things one would say in such a situation.
Of course, thanks for coming, I was just working on decorations, etc.
He watched the women file inside and followed, the magic broken.

He wondered if they would ever be able to get it back.

10

E
LY
HAD
TEASED
Lydia that she looked like she’d stolen Christmas that afternoon when he had found her surrounded by all of the decorations she had pulled out of the attic, but now she really was feeling like a certified Grinch.

She’d spent hours sorting through garland, replacing lights on broken strands of blinkers, and listening as Geri and Faith, along with Faith’s sister, Julie, and a few others, debated what cookies, treats and activities should be offered.

Lydia was silent as she poked a small blue bulb into the empty socket of the light set she worked on, and watched as Ely worked on windows in the dining room. He had gotten his tools and gone back to his latest task, caulking windows so that when the new insulation was piped in, things would be a lot less drafty. Once he finished that, he’d come over to help them sort through decorations.

Lydia scowled. They could have been upstairs, working off the energy from their snowball war under hot water in the shower or on her bed, but no, here she was playing Santa’s elf instead.

True to their word, though, Geri had brought two of her older daughters who were home from college to help with clearing out what was still in the attic. The young women were bright and charming, and they had been working hard at emptying the space out. They’d been polite and dedicated, asking her what should stay or go and packing boxes that now were stacked in the front entryway, ready to be taken to various charities.

Lydia had chosen only one box of items that she wanted to send back to Philly, things she wanted to keep. When she’d come across an old set of woodworking tools of her father’s, she asked Ely if he would like them. He clearly enjoyed working with wood, and had seemed very touched by the offer, accepting. Lydia figured he’d earned it, he’d done so much to help her fix up the house.

Her father would have liked him. In fact, Ely reminded her a little of him, in his personality more than his looks. Her father had been a wiry, strong, energetic man whom Lydia strongly resembled with her dark hair, though she was petite like her mother.

Ely had her father’s steadiness, though, that solid-as-a-rock quality that made you believe everything would be okay as long as they were around. They were both committed family men who liked to work with their hands. She watched as he laughed with Geri, the two of them stringing popcorn and berries for the Christmas trees. Ely was also slated to go with the men to pick up the trees later that afternoon, and tomorrow they would all spend the afternoon decorating the trees outdoors. On the night of the festival, gifts were put under the trees for local families who didn’t have much of their own.

Lydia had donated several things from the house to be given as gifts; Faith assured her that not everything had to be from a store. Many of her mother’s things, and the warm coats, especially, were very good quality and in excellent condition, and would be appreciated as gifts.

Unlike her, Ely really seemed to be enjoying himself. He bent down to pick up something from his toolbox, neatly snipping the string and tying it off. As he did so, his eyes met hers across the room, and he winked. It was so fast Lydia thought she might have missed it, but then he bent down to the floor, apparently for her benefit, his jeans showing off his perfect butt. That made her smile; he was such a goof.

Geri caught her attention, and smiled, too, as if the older woman knew exactly what was going on. Lydia went back to replacing her lightbulbs. She and Ely may have missed their chance earlier, but maybe things could rekindle later, after everyone was gone, she thought hopefully.

Feeling suddenly antsy, she stood, letting the string of lights fall from her hands.

“Are you okay, Lydia?” Julie asked, noticing her abrupt movement.

Faith’s sister had clearly been through the ringer, and from what Faith said, it was a miracle to even get her to leave the house. Julie’s husband had left her, Roger was in trouble, and she was about to lose her home, and Lydia’s self-indulgent agitation disappeared. Lydia had no problems at all compared to what Julie was going through.

Faith seemed happy that her sister was here, but tense, as well, bending over backward to get her involved, cheer her up. Lydia supposed she could stop being such a crank and help with that.

“I’m fine. I just need to stretch my legs. I’ll be right back,” she said, needing a few minutes to herself, but also thinking she could make some hot chocolate while she was in the kitchen. Her mother’s recipe was the best in the world, and everyone deserved a treat. As much as she wasn’t in the Christmas spirit, Lydia would never have been able to get the attic cleared out on her own, and the girls had done a great job, finishing it in a day.

This was one way she could say thank you, she thought, putting on a huge pot of milk and mixing up the chocolate powder, sugar and spices. Brown sugar and cinnamon were secrets to her mother’s recipe, along with lots of vanilla, and Lydia improvised a bit, adding her own spice.

Soon, the kitchen smelled heavenly. Lydia was setting out mugs on the counter when the swing door that led into the kitchen creaked, and she turned to find Ely crossing to her. Without preamble he pressed her into the counter with all six-foot-plus of his body and captured her mouth in a surprise kiss that made her toes curl.

She forgot about everything else in one second flat and snuggled in as close as she could, wanting to swallow him whole.

“Something smells amazing in here,” he said against her neck, jerking her back into the moment and reminding her that if she didn’t want to start from scratch, she had to turn the heat off under the pot.

She pushed away, reluctantly, doing just that.

“You almost made me burn the chocolate,” she scolded, taking the pot off the heat and going to search the refrigerator for some of the canned whipped cream she had seen in there earlier.

“Ah, there it is,” she said, reaching in and grabbing it, turning back to find Ely pouring the hot chocolate into mugs.

He was like that. He just jumped in and helped, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Thanks,” she said, poised with the whipped cream and cinnamon sugar to put on top.

“This is incredible,” he said, rubbing his finger along the side of the pot and licking it, his eyes closing with a low moan.

Lydia’s blood pressure skyrocketed, watching him. He swiped some more of the chocolate and offered it to her. She accepted it, drawing his finger in, watching his eyes darken as she let her tongue play a little before she let him go.

“That
is
good,” she said huskily.

He looked like he wanted to jump her right there and then, and it made her smile. “Help me carry these in?”

“Only if you promise to save some of that whipped cream for later.”

“I promise.” No problem there. She grinned.

They carried in trays of the steaming hot chocolate, greeted with gasps of surprise and pleasure, and Lydia felt herself blushing under the profuse praise everyone offered as they enjoyed the treat.

“It’s Mom’s recipe. I just put it on the stove,” she demurred, but they continued to sing her praises.

“Your mother often made hot chocolate for one of the festival booths, and cookies, too,” Geri commented. “And it was always delicious, but you added a little something else here, didn’t you?”

Lydia nodded. “I went to Mexico once on vacation, and they like to put chili pepper in their chocolate. I put a tiny amount of cayenne in there, just to spice it up, but not too much, I hope?”

Geri rolled her eyes back after taking another sip. “Not too much at all. This is transcendent. Thank you.”

Others echoed her sentiments, and Lydia hoped they weren’t going to ask her to make the chocolate for the festival. She didn’t mind helping prepare, especially in trade for help with the house, but she had no plans to attend, herself. She couldn’t bear the idea of people’s curiosity and questions, or possibly bumping into Ginny or any of her family. She figured she would spend the weekend in town, or at least, in the house, working.

Getting ready to go.

“Lydia, did you hear?” Ely prompted, leaning in and nudging her with his knee.

“What? I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“Well, we were hoping you would make your hot chocolate for the festival, but then Megan had a better idea,” Faith said, smiling at Geri’s eldest daughter.

Lydia’s hopes failed as she realized she wasn’t going to be able to sidestep the issue after all. She imagined they weren’t going to be very happy after she had to refuse to take part, and in front of everyone here who had been so happy a few minutes before.

Megan smiled excitedly. “Laura and I had the idea, actually,” she said, crediting her sister. “We thought you could do tattoos for the festival. Not real ones, but temporary, like they do at the fair. Henna or something. We love yours,” she said admiringly, her eyes landing on the ink that was visible on Lydia’s arms and throat, revealed by the T-shirt she had changed into after coming inside.

“Oh, I don’t know that anyone would—”

“Oh, they would! My friends would all want one, and I want one. We could charge something that would cover your supplies, and the rest could go to the local horse rescue organization, or whatever charity you want, but Laura and I were hoping you could help support the horses,” Megan said. “Things are tough for them this time of year.”

“Megan is studying to be a large animal veterinarian,” Geri said proudly. “Laura wants to be a teacher.”

All eyes on her, Lydia froze, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t know. I would need supplies, and I probably couldn’t do it outdoors, the ink would freeze, and it could be expensive—” she stuttered, flustered and trying to find a way to get out of this.

“There’s a place in the city that has supplies,” Laura said easily, so intent on their plan that they didn’t even notice Lydia’s anxiety. “We can make sure to charge a price to cover them, and you could have a booth in the garage, with a heater, so it would be comfortable,” she said, defeating every one of Lydia’s arguments.

“Um, well,” Lydia said, still scrambling for something to say other than that she didn’t want to.

“The horse rescue really needs the funds. I kind of promised them that we’d find a way for the festival to help,” Megan said, clearly more apprehensive, noting Lydia’s lack of enthusiasm.

“We can get one of the other vendors to put in a percentage,” Geri said, clearly stopping her daughters from applying too much pressure.

“But, mom, the tattoos would bring in so much more, and it would help so many more of the horses,” Laura said, clearly not wanting to give up.

Lydia was trapped. How could she say no to rescue horses? She’d had a horse of her own that her father had rescued when she was a girl, and she knew what the animals suffered if organizations didn’t help them. She made regular donations through her business to many charities, but here she had a chance to act directly, through her art.

“I could probably only do very small, pre-patterned tats, nothing too fancy,” she said haltingly. “But the supplies are on me. I don’t want to take any of the donations away from helping those horses.”

Ely squeezed her thigh in approval, and much to her surprise, Megan and Laura launched themselves at her, knocking her back on the sofa in a full-body hug with profuse thanks.

The girls were even more psyched as they went back to work and cleared up the mugs as the preparations for the festival continued. Ely was heading out with the guys to go pick up the load of Christmas trees, and before he went, he dipped down to kiss her—in front of everyone.

“See you later,” he said close to her ear, and added, “You’re doing a good thing. You have a good soul, Lydia,” he said, kissing her on the temple, leaving her feeling flustered.

Then he was out the door, and Geri, Faith, Julie and the rest were staring at her with knowing glances.

“You are one lucky woman, Lydia,” Faith said with a gusty sigh, watching Ely leave.

“I told you, it’s not like that, we’re only—” She stopped and noted Geri’s cautioning gaze toward her daughters, whose ears were perked in their direction. “Friends. We’re only friends.”

“Yep, that looked very friendly to me,” Julie said, really smiling for the first time that night, and they all laughed.

Even Lydia felt a little flicker of Christmas spirit, in spite of herself. Or maybe she was just looking forward to using that whipped cream with Ely when he returned home later.

* * *

“L
OOKS
LIKE
WE
HAVE
one extra,” Ely said, surprising Lydia as he came through the door dragging a humongous tree behind him.

Lydia had managed to clean up most of the detritus from the decorating and the work on the house, and she watched as he stood the tall tree up in a corner by the front windows. For a moment, she was blasted back to the past, remembering when she and her father used to do the same thing, going out to find the perfect tree, taking it home and standing it up in that very spot.

“But...I don’t need a tree,” she said.

“Everyone needs a tree. They had extra at the farm, and I couldn’t resist. God knows we have enough decorations,” he said. “C’mon, it will be fun.”

Lydia knew she was going to cave. The tree was perfect.

“I’ll go fish out the stand I found earlier,” she said, heading down to the basement.

A few minutes later, they had the tree standing on its own in the corner, admiring its shape before they decorated it.

“I haven’t had a tree in so many years, I forgot how much I like them,” she said as she reached forward to touch the bristly needles.

“Well, you have about a dozen outside, and I’m glad you like this one. I picked it out myself,” Ely said, his hand resting at the nape of her neck under her hair, where he massaged her gently.

“This one has to be the prettiest,” she complimented, enjoying the moment.

“Not as pretty as you,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She laughed at the silly compliment. “Sure, compare me to a tree.”