Holly Lane (7 page)

Next to him, she shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Well then, if you’ve grilled me enough, I suggest we go back to sleep.”

T
he first rays of daylight brought Sue Ann’s eyes open.

Sun shone through the window across the room, telling her the snow must have ended.

Good.

And the cabin was nice and toasty—a glance to the stone hearth revealed a roaring fire, something Adam must have tended to in the night.

Also good.

And a glimpse downward reminded her that . . . uh-oh. She was naked. She was a naked, casual-sex-having wanton who’d gone wild with Adam Becker last night like it was nothing! Oh boy.

First things first—where was he? A glance to her right revealed that, okay, he was approximately one inch from her naked body—and equally naked. And awake, too. Sheesh. “Morning,” he said.

Oh Lord, the warmth of a blush climbed her cheeks, just from that. “Morning,” she returned. But she couldn’t quite look at him.

He stayed quiet for a second, then said, “This is gonna be weird, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” she said, nodding. It was something about the morning bringing back the concept of real life. It was something about the sun shining a bright light on things that had been easier to accept in the dark. A nervousness far more severe than anything she’d experienced with him last night suddenly raced through her veins.

She heard his sigh next to her and grew unwittingly aware of the warmth of his body against hers beneath the covers. “Look, Sue Ann, there’s no reason we have to act any differently to each other. This doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Uh-huh, yeah, sure. “Easy for you to say,” she spat out before thinking.

“It is?” he asked, sounding so surprised that she
had
to look at him now. And oh. My. He was especially sexy in the morning, all rumpled and mussed.

“Well, you probably do this all the time,” she declared a bit too hysterically for her liking.

“Do what?”

“Have sex.”

He looked unsure how to reply.

And she
felt
unsure about this entire conversation. Why had she started acting like having sex was the most heinous act on the planet?

“Um, yeah, sometimes,” he admitted. “But . . . not with friends.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been having sex with
anybody
lately, friend or foe, so you’re one up on me. Or more than one, actually. However many women you’ve done it with since your divorce.”
Dear God, be quiet.
What’s wrong with you?

But she
knew
what was wrong. This “morning after” business would have been awkward enough on its own, but knowing what she knew now made it a little worse. Not only because it stung to think of Adam cheating on his wife, but because . . . she’d thought she knew him. And after what they’d just done, the comfort she’d taken with him, the intimacy they’d shared . . . well, she’d
wanted
to know him. She’d wanted to believe he was the same perfect guy she’d always thought him. She was tired of getting surprises about men, tired of thinking they were something they weren’t. So it had broken her heart just a little—and changed her world still a bit more—to find out Adam wasn’t completely who she’d thought he was.

And her reaction to what he’d shared wasn’t his fault—she knew that. But . . . well, there for a little while, she’d felt so crazily, sexily, intimately close to him—and now, unfortunately, she’d woken up feeling closer to the opposite.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” she said, trying to sound smarter and more rational than she had so far this morning. “Last night was . . . um, pretty great, but—”

“You said spectacular.”

“Huh?”

He looked matter-of-fact. “I’m just pointing out that you said it was spectacular.”

Oh dear. The reminder warmed her face with a blush and brought back memories. Spectacular ones, of course. “Still,” she tried to move on, “my point is that . . . we were both drinking, and in a weird situation, and . . . I think it’s best if we just forget about it after we leave here. Forget about it and act normal.”

“Of course,” Adam said. As if it had never crossed his mind that it could possibly turn into more than a one-time thing. As if this were clearly the only way to handle it.

So why did she feel a little disappointed? After all, she was the one declaring they should forget it.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that his quick agreement shored up her original conclusions. Adam might be a great guy most of the time, but when it came to romance—or sex, or whatever—she didn’t need to be getting involved with him. She supposed things like trust just felt even more important to her than usual right now. And it was far too soon for something like this after her breakup anyway. And besides, he was Jeff’s best friend! And ugh, he apparently wasn’t even interested in her, for God’s sake!

“Cold?” he asked then, pulling the covers up snugger around her shoulders. So he was suddenly back to being sweet and sexy again? Oh boy.

“Um, a little,” she lied. And there was a part of her that wanted Adam to take the opportunity to cuddle against her to warm her up—even though she wasn’t really cold—but a bigger, wiser part of her immediately remembered concepts like
cheating
and
too soon
and
ex’s BFF
, so she said, “I wonder how the roads are.”

“I heard a plow come through about an hour ago, so that’s a good sign. I can probably get out of your hair this morning.”

Hmm. Funny. One minute he’d been an intruder, the next he’d been giving her multiple orgasms. “You can have the cabin for the rest of the weekend,” she told him on impulse.

He blinked, looking almost skeptical, like she might be trying to pull the wool over his eyes. “Why? Last night I got the idea you really needed some peace and quiet.”

Um, yeah, this is no longer a place of peace and quiet for me. This will now and forever be the place where I had hot sex with you
. She resisted telling him that, though, and instead fell back on another version of the truth. “Well, I’m not sure it was really working—I’m more of a keep-busy kinda gal. And God knows I have plenty to do at home—gifts to wrap, trees to trim, jobs to find, all that.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, despite how it might have seemed, I don’t want to run you out.”

But she shook her head, wondering if she was acting as nervous as she continued to feel. “Yeah, I’m sure. Christmas is coming, whether I like it or not. Along with wondering how I’m going to support myself. Merry Christmas to
me
, right?” she asked cynically, more to the bunk bed above her than to Adam, but she still regretted it instantly. She was waking up to the troubles of real life, but there was no reason to shove them down anyone else’s throat.

And from there, she simply tugged the top blanket from the bed to wrap it around her—still shy now about being naked—eased out of the lower bunk, then plucked up her overnight bag from the floor and headed to the bathroom.

She tried not to think as she stepped beneath the spray of a hot shower—she tried not to remember the way Adam had touched her or kissed her, or that her body felt . . . almost brand new in some odd sense. Because yeah, thoughts like that were still a damn nice distraction from the problems facing her now, but in another way, they were just as troubling.
I was so aggressive at moments—yikes.
I don’t even know if men like that.
Although . . . wow—I know I liked the stuff
he
did to
me
.
But stop thinking about it.
So she tried to focus instead on just rushing to get in and out, out of the shower, and out of the cabin.

By the time she exited the bathroom wearing a thick sweater and blue jeans, Adam had dressed and gone out to assess the road situation, informing her that a path had been cleared and that the old man in the office had assured him the hill had been salted hours ago and traffic could come and go freely in the valley again.

Well, that was a relief.

And so, as she prepared to depart, Sue Ann tried her best to start acting at least a little bit normal—especially since that’s what she’d told him they should do. She made a point of asking how his parents were, and of telling him Sophie and she would be by to pick out a tree soon, since he ran a Christmas tree lot at his landscaping business every December.

Meanwhile, he used the broom she’d defended herself with the night before to clear the snow from her car, then helped her load her things in the trunk. And there were moments when, if she tried really hard, she was almost able to pretend everything really
was
normal between them. Even though it wasn’t.
But that’s okay—it’s bound to take a little time.

Heading back inside the cabin with Adam to grab the last couple of things, she took a look around—at the rug where they’d lain together, the chair where they’d taken Act Two—and her stomach contracted a little. She wasn’t sure why, though—if it was because of the weirdness of it all or . . . if it was the memory of the thick, burning passion they’d shared.

Bundled up in her parka with the fur-trimmed hood, keys in hand, she headed to the door where she scooped up her purse, her unopened real estate manual, and the box of finished Christmas cards. Adam had just returned the broom to its spot near the hearth, and he turned to say, “All set?”

She simply nodded.

“Um, sorry I was a crazed cabin killer last night.”

She squinted slightly, not understanding. “You weren’t really a crazed . . .”

“I just mean—sorry about busting in on your privacy and acting like a jerk.”

She shook her head, mainly just eager to leave now and put this all behind her. No matter how hot he looked all unshaven and bundled up in flannel. And why the hell was that suddenly sexy? “Everybody’s entitled now and then,” she replied. “And . . . it was a weird situation.”

Now he was the one who nodded, and—oh God—she was just about to get caught up in recalling how blue his eyes had been when he’d been moving inside her . . . when a funny, almost amused look came over his face.

“What?” she asked.

“I just remembered something, that’s all.”

“What is it?”

But he shook his head. “Nothing.”

Okay, whatever—it was time to go.

And she had just opened the door when Adam said, “All right, it’s that I never got a chance to tell you something. About yesterday.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s that I was the, uh . . .” He stopped, chuckled silently, then said, “Let’s put it this way. It was nice playing reindeer games with you.”

Reindeer games?

Then she gasped, suddenly understanding—oh God, Adam had been the reindeer in the department store!

In reply, she simply bit her lip, met his gaze, and—despite herself—let a small smile sneak out before pulling the cabin door closed behind her.

Wow. One more surprise this weekend.

But it was time to head back to real life now. No matter how fun those reindeer games had been.

Five

“Every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”

Charles Dickens,
A Christmas Carol

A
dam swung his truck into the parking area of Becker Landscaping—newly transformed into a Christmas tree lot—just after noon on Sunday, on his way back from the cabin. He hadn’t planned to return to Destiny so early, but in the end, it had seemed easier than staying at the lake. He’d thought he’d be happy when Sue Ann left, yet it had seemed . . . hell, boring after that. So boring that he’d actually ended up having dinner with Grayson last night.

So maybe going there alone hadn’t been such a hot idea, after all. Sue Ann had been right—he didn’t like being divorced; the radical life changes involved in that just hadn’t suited him. He enjoyed being around people, had liked having someone to come home to, and he especially loved being around his kids.

Though he’d been a little taken aback by her revelation on the topic. Because he hadn’t ever really bothered to draw the lines connecting them in his head, but . . . damn, the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realized it was all true. Having his boys gone had somehow brought the divorce back, front and center, on his personal radar screen. Maybe it just reminded him that . . . well, his life hadn’t turned out the way he’d planned. And that if he’d just been a little stronger and toughed things out, he might still have a family—and the normal family life he’d wanted for his kids.

As he got out of the truck, he immediately spotted a few things that irked him, making his jaw clench.

“Hey boss, didn’t expect to see ya so soon,” said Chuck Whaley, an amiable young guy who’d worked for him year-round since his high school graduation five years ago.

“Well, I came back early,” Adam snapped. He didn‘t
mean
to snap, but he could tell from the expression on Chuck’s face that he had. Shit, apparently he hadn’t returned from his trip in any better mood than when he’d gone.

“Um, okay,” Chuck said—then looked like he was tiptoeing on a thin sheet of ice when he timidly asked, “Did ya have a nice time?”

Adam took a deep breath, tried to be civil. “Not really,” he replied. “And how come the snow hasn’t been cleared from the parking lot? Church just let out—we’ll have tree shoppers this afternoon.” The accumulation wasn’t deep—nothing like what he and Sue Ann had seen at Bear Lake—but it would become a slushy mess soon.

“Sorry,” Chuck said, his face coloring slightly. “I’ll get right on it.”

And that’s when Adam realized he was still acting like a jerk, civil tone or not. Until now, he’d never had a cross word with Chuck in five years.

“Chuck,” he called as the young man headed for a company truck sporting a snowplow.

Chuck stopped, looked over his shoulder.

“Sorry I’m acting pissy. It’s me, not you.”

Chuck just nodded and said, “No problem,” but Adam thought he still appeared wary as he went on his way.

Damn, I gotta stop taking my troubles out on everybody.
First it had been Sue Ann in the cabin, and now Chuck. But hell . . . if he was honest with himself, he felt even Scroogier today than when he’d first arrived at the lake.

And at least part of that was Sue Ann’s fault. For prying into the details of his divorce.

Because he didn’t talk about that. To anyone. Ever. He just didn’t like airing his troubles far and wide. He and Sheila didn’t get along great, even now, but he’d once loved her, and to him, that was reason enough to keep their problems to himself.

As he walked over to inspect some fir trees with broken branches, he let out a sigh. Shit. Nobody wanted a damaged tree.

So he called to another employee who’d just entered his line of sight. “Tyler!”

Tyler Fleet, a senior at Destiny High who did seasonal work for Adam on weekends, looked up with a start.

“What the hell happened to these trees?”

Tyler swallowed visibly. “Uh . . . what trees?”

For God’s sake. Adam’s jaw clenched tighter. Then he pointed. “The ones with the broken branches!”

“Um . . . I don’t know.” He swallowed again—by which point Adam realized Tyler was the wrong guy to be yelling at; he probably hadn’t even been here when they were delivered.

“All right—never mind,” Adam muttered. And when Tyler just stood there, like a deer in headlights, Adam finally shooed him away. “Go back to whatever you were doing.”

As Tyler wandered off, Adam blew out his breath, then tried to calm down.
So much for being nicer.
But the conversation with Sue Ann about his divorce still weighed on him. Maybe he didn’t like being reminded of his broken marriage, or having it pointed out that it still bothered him so much.

So he couldn’t help feeling a little mad at her.

Of course, at the same time, he kind of wanted to be kissing her again—those deep, rhythmic kisses that ran all through him, slow and potent. He’d never been a guy who liked to rush things when it came to sex, and kissing—simple as it was—had always been one of his favorite things.

Naturally, though, that led to thoughts of the
other
things they’d done together, the activities that went far beyond kissing. The way she’d parted her legs for him to taste her. And—mmm, God—the way she’d knelt before him and returned the favor. He hadn’t seen that coming, and the mere memory had him getting hard again.

But you might as well forget all about it because you aren’t gonna be kissing her anymore, or doing any of those other things with her, either.

For lots of reasons.

She’s your best friend’s ex-wife.
Even if he hadn’t seen Jeff much lately, ever since he’d told him leaving Sue Ann was a bonehead move.

The ink on her divorce papers is barely dry.
And he’d felt that, how fresh it all still was for her. Who needed that kind of drama?

She thought it was best to keep it confined to the cabin, too.
Apparently what happened in Snow Valley stayed in Snow Valley. The truth was, he hadn’t even reached the point of thinking about the future when it had come up, but when she’d declared their hot little liaison a one-time thing, there hadn’t been much to do but agree.

Which led, of course, to the biggest reason of all he and Sue Ann could never be together in any real sort of way:
By telling her about the end of your marriage, you showed her you can’t be trusted.

S
ue Ann stood on Jenny’s porch on Sunday afternoon knocking on the door. As Mick answered, she suffered a flashback to that night six months ago when she’d first found out Jeff was leaving her, but she quickly reminded herself this was different. For one thing, Sophie stood next to her carrying a pretty box of Christmas cookies Sue Ann had whipped up this morning. For another, she was wearing shoes. They’d come to help trim the tree.

“Hey, come on in,” Mick said, stepping back, and as they moved inside, the scent of fresh pine met Sue Ann’s nose. She spotted a robust evergreen standing in one corner of the lake cottage’s living room just awaiting tinsel and decorations.

“These are for you,” Sophie said, holding up the box—decorated with dancing reindeer—to Mick.
Lord, Sophie had had to pick the box with reindeer on it, hadn’t she?

“Cookies?” he asked, taking it.

Sophie nodded. “They’re to thank you for inviting us over.”

He shrugged. “Well, you and your mom are like family to Jenny, and we figured this year—” He stopped then, suddenly, and Sue Ann forgave him instantly for almost referring to Jeff’s departure—Mick wasn’t used to being around kids or needing to think before he spoke. “Figured this year . . . we could use the help,” he finally finished.

But Sophie looked baffled. “How come?”

And now Mick appeared stumped, too—but as Sue Ann prepared to jump in, he replied, “Well, I’m . . . really bad at decorating the tree. So Jenny thought you could give me some pointers.”

Nice save
, Sue Ann mouthed in Mick’s direction, as Sophie cheerfully said, “Okay. I’m really good at it!”

Sue Ann had been aware of the Christmas music echoing through the room since their arrival, but only now did she hear Gene Autry singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
Oh God—reindeer, reindeer, everywhere.

She’d been trying to get her night with Adam off her mind, but it seemed reminders lurked at every turn. Even if those reminders were only of the antlered variety. She still couldn’t believe it had been Adam behind that furry deer head—and yet something about it also made her feel a little giddy. Maybe because this meant he’d flirted with her even before they’d been trapped together. Maybe it made her feel less like the nearest available woman, and more like a woman he’d already noticed . . . in that way.

Not that any of that mattered. Because she did need to get the whole event off her mind. Still, that didn’t prevent a small and possibly hysterical-sounding giggle from erupting from her throat when Gene reached the part about reindeer games.

Mick and Sophie just looked at her, and Mick said, “What’s funny?”

Crap. Luckily, though, her eyes fell on a framed picture perched on the room’s small mantel—of Jenny, Mick, and their orange tiger cat, Trouble, all wearing Santa hats. “Cute picture,” she said.

Mick, however, didn’t look amused. “Yeah, that was Jenny’s idea. Me and the cat are still trying to get over it.”

Just then, Sue Ann’s best friend came whisking into the room, looking as bright and cheerful as ever in a Christmasy red sweater, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Hey, you’re here. How was your weekend away?”

It was a perfectly normal question, of course—yet it caught Sue Ann off guard. “It was . . . short, actually. I came home early. Yesterday.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “How come? And in all that snow? I hear they get it heavier in that area.”

“Yes, they do,” Sue Ann reassured her. An inch or so still blanketed Destiny and the surrounding hillsides, but that was nothing compared to the brief but potent blizzard that had trapped her and Adam in the cabin.

“How much did they get?” Mick asked.

“I’m . . . not sure.”
I didn’t notice because I was too busy saying goodbye to my lover.
“But . . . a lot.” She looked Jenny in the eye then and said, “Can we talk? Like, in the kitchen?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Jenny said, meeting Sue Ann’s gaze. “Mick, maybe you and Sophie can start with the lights.”

“Sounds good,” Mick replied as the two women made a beeline for the next room.

“The lights are the hardest part,” Sue Ann heard her daughter saying to Mick, very knowledgably, as she and Jenny ducked into privacy.

Once in the kitchen, where a string of fabric gingerbread men hung draped from the curtain rod—reminding Sue Ann of her gingerbread man panties, of course—they took a seat at the small table. “What’s up?” Jenny asked with quiet concern, her eyes connecting with Sue Ann’s. “Did something happen?”

“Lots of things have happened.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “Like?”

Sue Ann blinked, then let out a breath. “You won’t believe it. Any of it. Because
I
don’t believe it.” Really, if the whole encounter with Adam had seemed surreal while it was taking place, that was nothing compared to how bizarre it seemed now. And the news about Jeff and Ronni and all that came with it—oh Lord, they were married now!—remained just as devastating.

“Well, spit it out.”

Though now that the moment had come to actually tell her about Adam, Sue Ann bit her lip. She’d always talked about her sex life to Jenny and their other friends with ease, but . . . this was different. So maybe she’d just start with the other stuff—and get it all over with quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. She leaned forward, swallowed past the nervous lump in her throat, and kept her voice low. “Jeff married Ronni and they plan to have a baby. And he’s petitioning to cut off my alimony, so I’m broke. And I had sex with Adam.”

Jenny just looked at her as if she were speaking Chinese. Then, finally, she said, “What?”

Sue Ann simply sighed—then began again. “Jeff married Ronni and—”

Jenny held up her hands. “No, stop. I heard it all. I’m just . . . having trouble processing it.”

“Understandable. It’s a lot to take in at once.”

Now Jenny narrowed her eyes on Sue Ann. “All right, let’s start at the beginning.” But her gaze began to widen as she slowly comprehended bits and pieces of what Sue Ann had said. “Jeff seriously
married
her? Already? And—and he’s . . .
what
?”

So Sue Ann proceeded to share all the information Barry Clayton had given her over the phone. And as always, Jenny was her ever-supportive self, aghast on Sue Ann’s behalf, reminding her she didn’t need a man who would do something so cold, and assuring her the courts would never take Sophie away from her.