Last Chance Christmas (9 page)

Maybe what bothered him the most was that he’d be coming back to Cloud Spin in a few years when he retired from hockey, but Shea wouldn’t. Her life would always be in a big city, somewhere she could use the talents her family didn’t understand or appreciate. And no matter how much she fit in here, her stays would always be brief.

“Then I suggest you get on the same page with me when it comes to your taste in Christmas trees. I’m not settling for anything less than fourteen feet, and I’ll go to the mat for it if I have to.”

He didn’t bother asking how she’d decorate it while she was on crutches. She’d probably hop up the ladder on one foot.

“On second thought, maybe a snowball fight wouldn’t be all bad.” He took a spot on the boards to admire how much work they’d gotten done today. They only needed a few centimeters of ice to start playing. He could build the layers each night and it would be strongest that way anyhow.

“That sounds like a dare.” She rested her elbows on the wooden, waist-high support.

“If we get covered in snow, I’d have a good excuse to show you the outdoor hot tub on my back porch.” He glanced down at her foot. “Your stitches are healed. You can get that wet, can’t you?”

“Hot tub?” Her eyes wandered all over him like she was already imagining it.

Just the way he was.

“Yes ma’am.” He could already picture her skin glistening in the moonlight while steam drifted all around her.

“You pro athletes sure do spoil yourselves, don’t you?”

“With my career ticking down to the final years, I’m going to wring every bit of fun I can out of it.” He knew as soon as he said it that it was the wrong direction to take this conversation.

He could see it in her expression. The way her lips pressed into a thin line.

“It’s tough for me to applaud that approach.” Her gaze moved to the empty home where she’d been raised, the windows dark. “Just remember it might be hard to tell when you’re not having fun anymore if you’re floating from one concussion to the next.”

Shea had seen the lifetime toll the sport had taken on her family, from lost salary and lost potential endorsement earnings to her father’s chronic headaches, her uncle’s bouts with depression, and fears about what the future held for health problems.

Hell, that all concerned him, too, as he nursed his fourth career concussion. But he loved playing more than he worried.

He wanted to tell her he knew what he was doing. That the league was more careful with its players now. But by the time he firmed up his approach in his head, she was halfway up the hill, a dark, wobbly shadow on her crutches as she navigated the icy bank.

Even as he ran to give her a hand, it occurred to him he’d be too late. Shea Walker was stubborn, determined, and decisive. And she wasn’t the kind of woman to give a man a second chance.

‡

C
hristmas shopping on
crutches would have been bad enough.

Shopping in Cloud Spin with a hometown hero proved ten times worse.

Shea hobbled around a repurposed barn that had become one of the town’s most visited holiday stores. Oozing Vermont charm, the place was full of decorated pine trees theme-matched to the wares in various rooms. Downstairs, a Nutcracker themed play area for kids had charmed her until the mommy-set recognized J.C. and used his fame as license to hang all over him.

Fine.

She’d left him to the adoring fans and made some purchases in the ornament department since J.C. had absolutely nothing to decorate with, a fact that was a telling statement on what he’d gotten out of his divorce. Had his wife truly never decorated for the holidays? Or had she simply kept every nativity piece and jingle bell in their storage closet?

That bugged her far more than the adoring fans. Even though one had coyly suggested J.C. autograph her neck.

She was sizing up the wall of holiday ribbons for Christmas bows when the sound of children caroling caught her attention. Moving to a window at the front of the store along with a few other shoppers, she caught sight of the small children’s parade that preceded the Wassail Weekend festivities the whole town was gearing up for. Led by a top hat-wearing Father Christmas, the parade ended with a sled dragging a big vat designed to look like Santa’s holiday sack. Residents could toss in donations of money or toys for a variety of children’s charities in the area.

Moments like this made her miss Vermont. Especially Christmas in Vermont.

She sensed J.C.’s presence behind her before she saw him. Her heart had softened since their exchange out by the ice rink. Hearing children caroling probably had something to do with that. Peering up at him, she saw his focus was on the parade, too.

“Hard to believe those are the same boys who were trying to take each other’s heads off in a snowball fight earlier.” He pointed to a trio of peewee players who’d spent time helping their parents shovel a path to the ice. “They clean up nice.”

“Back in our day, we dressed up,” she reminisced. “I loved being an angel for those thirty minutes each year.”

“Being a shepherd was definitely cooler than the year we had to be elves.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Maybe that was before my time.”

“Because I’m so much older than you.” He stroked a hand down her back in a light touch that would definitely get the local rumor mill churning.

She wondered if he even realized he was doing it. She remembered that one of the reasons he handled the pressures of sports better than her was the way he let things roll off him. Public perception had never been able to mess with his head. He could focus in on his game while she’d gnaw on her mistakes for days afterward.

“You realize my parents are going to be getting texts about this in Hawaii if you’re not careful?” She tipped her head in the direction of the rest of the store’s shoppers.

His hand fell away.

“Would that bother you?” He picked up the shopping bags near her feet and carried them for her as she started toward the closest exit.

“Not by itself. But if anyone mentioned me being on crutches, I’d hate for my mom to turn around and come home in some attempt to be here for me.” As much as she’d craved a hug from her mom—to soothe her heart more than her hurts in light of her lost job—Shea didn’t want to distract her parents from enjoying themselves.

Her mother had been asking for that Hawaii trip for many years.

“I saw people taking pictures today while we were working on the rink. I have the feeling they’ll all wind up on those social media pages for town happenings.”

She laughed. “I know I’ve lost touch with my parents a bit, but I’d be surprised if they’re spending even ten seconds of this once in a lifetime trip checking their social media apps.”

“Right.” J.C. juggled the shopping bags to one hand and used the free one to hold the door open for her as they stepped out onto the street. Once outside, he tucked her close. “Then there’s nothing to stop me from doing this?”

Before she could answer, a chichi boutique caught her attention, a store that had never been on the main shopping thoroughfare before. As a fashion buyer, she knew all the tricks of retail to make women’s apparel more enticing. And even as a savvy, cynical customer, she was completely charmed by the front window.

Long, cream colored fringe framed the top, like a flapper’s dress. Antique white linen doilies had been suspended from the ceiling to look like snowflakes of varying height, each one the backdrop for a bright red item—a gorgeous velvet pump, a cashmere scarf, a crimson clutch. The effect should have been too precious and fussy, but it was truly pretty. On the floor of the display, a clothesline made of clear crystal beads held lavish winter accessories with big wooden clothespins—Sherpa gloves, a tartan plaid cowl hat, so many goodies she had to go explore.

“We’re not getting by that store, are we?” J.C. asked, making her realize she’d come to a full stop.

“Think of that door as an NHL goal for the opposing team,” she informed him. “We
want
to get in there.”

She wasn’t quite sure why it became imperative to her as she definitely didn’t need any clothes. Thanks to her job, she had a wardrobe other women would kill for, even though she hadn’t brought much in the way of enviable fashion with her to Cloud Spin. Comfort had been key on this trip with her injury and too much glitz only made her family uncomfortable anyhow.

“Or I could finish up some of my Christmas shopping and I’ll come back for you in twenty minutes?”

“Done.” She wanted a frank discussion with the shop owner if she or he was around, and Shea hadn’t even told J.C. that she’d lost her job, so that could have been awkward. She was already navigating her way up the icy sidewalk, sidestepping pedestrians. “Better make it forty-five minutes though.”

Because she was entranced. And dying to know how long the store had been in town and how it was doing in a community whose year-round residents were notoriously down to earth people. Were there enough tourists to make a place like this profitable?

She’d never considered striking out on her own with any kind of entrepreneurial endeavor since she’d always loved her job. But right now, with her employer headed into bankruptcy and her professional future uncertain, she wanted to be open to other avenues. And hadn’t her cousin Warren mentioned a storefront was vacant in the ski resort?

It was like J.C. said about fate—the store seemed like it had been dropped in her path for a reason. Because long after J.C. went back to Chicago and Shea recovered from her injuries, she’d still be faced with the bigger crisis. She was unemployed. She had no prospects. And her market was shrinking everyday as shoppers sought clothes online through highly specialized shops the big stores couldn’t compete with.

She needed to explore new business models. Be ready to make a change.

Balancing carefully on one crutch, she used her other hand to open the door and let herself inside.

*

A boutique named
Cheeky wouldn’t be his first choice of shopping destination, but J.C. wandered through the shop an hour after he’d parted company with Shea.

Several things immediately told him he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Or, at least, he wasn’t in a retail outlet that spoke his language. The scented candle burning on the front counter wasn’t just vanilla or pine like every other store he’d set foot in today. The fragrance was complex and expensive-smelling. Was myrrh a scent? As a wise man’s gift, it had to be pricey. Maybe it was myrrh.

But there was also the abundance of salt lamp sconces. The classical tunes were okay if he didn’t mind his “Ave Marias” set to harp. Personally, he preferred to rock around his Christmas tree. He picked up a slender red leather glove trimmed in white fur that was definitely pretty, but it wouldn’t come close to protecting anyone’s knuckles in a scrap against the boards.

He waved off an offer of help from the well-dressed dude manning the cash register, following the sound of Shea’s voice from somewhere in the back of the shop. He’d already put her bags in the car, so they were ready to leave town as soon as she was ready.

“…but maybe I could make it work in one of the boroughs,” Shea was saying, her voice growing louder and he walked past a rack of fringed sweaters. “The storefront would be expensive in Brooklyn, but not out of the realm of possibility.”

A store in Brooklyn?

Was Shea honestly considering going into business for herself? He slowed his steps as he reached the open archway leading into a small room that looked like a waiting area for the dressing rooms. There was a velvet, tufted couch where Shea sat beside an older woman decked out in black leather pants and a concert t-shirt for an eighties rock band. The other woman was talking about maximizing square footage and keeping overhead down while J.C. debated interrupting.

Before he could speak, Shea noticed him, her head turning as if she sensed his presence behind her.

“I don’t want to impose on your time anymore, Melissa, but you’ve given me a lot to consider and I really appreciate it.” She gathered her crutches and he backed out of the doorway to give her room to clear it.