“Then lean your seat back and take a nap.” He reached into the back seat for a fleece blanket, tossing it onto her. “The drive is more than an hour from here. We can talk when we get home.”
Home, she thought as she closed her eyes. Where was home? In Tempe where she lived by herself? In Uganda with her parents? In Scottsdale with Gillian and her family? Maybe Emma was destined to never have a real home.
West didn’t mind that Emma slept the rest of the way home. In a way, it was comforting to see her peacefully lying there. He’d glance her way every once in a while, to reassure himself she was truly here with him. Each time he’d be filled with a protective feeling for her. He never wanted her to be hurt again. Not by him or anyone.
It wasn’t until he rolled into town that she began to stir. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “We’re home.”
“Oh.” She sat up and looked around. “That was fast.”
He chuckled. “For you anyway. Where do you want to go? Are you hungry? Ready to ski?”
“Both, actually.”
“You’re still up for skiing?”
“Isn’t that how you enticed me to come back with you? The temptation of snow and skiing?”
“Great. We’ll go get our gear, pack up a bite to eat, and—”
“Only I don’t want to go into the house. I’m not ready to see Gillian just yet.”
“Then we can sneak into my studio. I’ve got food there. I’ll load up our stuff and we’ll be on the mountain in time for an hour or so of skiing before the lifts close. I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve.”
“Maybe I should text Gillian . . . let her know that I’m coming back.” Emma pulled out her phone. “That way they won’t be too surprised when I show up after we’re done skiing.”
“Yeah, I think they were pretty worried about you.” He explained how Gillian had come over to tip him off this morning. “And she even apologized.”
“Seriously? Did it seem sincere?”
“I think so.” He pulled right up to the studio, and not seeing anyone around, they hopped out and hurried inside. “Sorry about the mess.” He tossed some discarded clothing toward a hamper. “I left in a rush this morning.”
But Emma stood in front of the small fireplace, staring at the music awards lining the mantle. “Wow, this is impressive, West. And intimidating.”
“Yeah, I feel like that sometimes too.”
She tried not to roll her eyes. “Right, you’re intimidated by your own awards.”
“You’d be surprised.” He went over to the kitchenette, poking in the fridge.
“How about I fix us something while you load up the skis?” she offered.
“Great idea. And it’ll save time if we take it with us and eat up there.” He handed her a daypack. “Go ahead and put some things in here. I’ll be right back.”
It wasn’t long before they were riding a chair up to an intermediate run. West had taken his sister and nephews up this slope before and knew of a nice resting stop, tucked away about halfway down. It would be just right for their dinner . . . and if the timing seemed right, maybe even something more.
When he led Emma off the main run, turning onto a wooded side trail, she grew curious. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise.” He led her over to the clearing, brushing the snow off a boulder to create a sturdy bench. “How about a picnic here?”
“Perfect.” She sat down. “I’m starving.”
“So what did you make for us?” He removed the daypack and opened it, extracting a bag of chips.
“Turkey and Swiss cheese sandwiches,” she said.
“My favorite.” He removed a couple of bruised bananas. “And fresh fruit.”
“Not terribly fresh. They looked better when I packed them. And, no offense, but the pickings were a little slim in your kitchen.”
“You’re telling me. But this feels like a regular little feast to me.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Perfect!” They continued to visit as they ate. Emma had a few more questions for him, but he could tell she was slowly adjusting herself to last night’s revelations. Finally they were done and he tucked the remnants back into his pack before moving closer to her.
“Thanks for making us such a great meal.” He turned to look at her. “Especially considering what you had to work with.”
“I’m used to making ends meet.” She smiled at him.
“So, tell me the truth, Emma. Can a girl like you be interested in a guy like me? I mean, now that you know who I really am. Or does it make you want to turn and run the other way?” He sighed. “Well, I guess that’s pretty much what you did today . . . you ran the other way.”
“I won’t deny I was overwhelmed . . . and hurt.”
He nodded. “I feel bad that I hurt you.” He reached into his jacket pocket for the folded paper he’d slipped in earlier. “I wrote a song for you.”
“You’re kidding. For me?” She blinked.
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep last night either. I felt so bad about the way you learned the truth, when I had wanted to tell you myself.”
“Are you going to sing it?”
He chuckled. “I might not sound too good without accompaniment to keep me on tune.”
“That’s okay. I’d still like to hear it.”
And so he sang it to her. It was a simple song . . . an expression of love for his dark-haired girl with a sparkle in her eyes and kindness in her voice. He could tell by her smile that she liked it. When he finished and leaned in to kiss her, she leaned in too. That’s when he knew that a girl like her could love a guy like him. Simply for himself.
After they exchanged a few more kisses, he could feel her shivering.
“You’re cold.” He stood. “We should get moving.” He helped her back into her skis then led her toward the run, both of them pausing at the crest of the hill.
“Ready, set, go,” she said in a teasing tone.
He knew she didn’t want to race but decided to make it seem like he was racing her—only he’d let her win. They were almost to the bottom—with Emma just barely ahead—when she suddenly took a sharp turn and barreled straight into him. In a tangled mess of skis and poles, arms and legs, they tumbled into the snow.
“Are you okay?” he asked when they finally quit sliding, coming to rest on the side of the nearly vacant run.
“Other than being embarrassed, I’m just fine.” She laughed. “How about you?”
“I’m okay.” He grinned and, tugging her to a sitting position beside him, pointed westward. “Look, we’re just in time for the sunset.”
“With a front-row seat.”
He put his arm around her, pulling her closer in hopes of keeping her warm—and near. “The lifts are all closed now. Everyone is calling it a day.”
“Look how pretty the lodge looks with its lights reflecting off the snow. Just like a picture.” She sighed happily. “What a perfect Christmas.”
“Almost.”
“Almost?” She turned to look at him. “How could it possibly be better?”
“Emma.” He turned around to face her now, determined to take this big step.
“What?” Her dark eyes opened wide.
West knew he had caught her off guard. Was he moving too fast? And yet . . . deep inside he knew this was right. Something inside of him had clicked into place—almost as soon as they’d first met.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He realized he probably looked ridiculous, just staring into her eyes like this. “I realize we haven’t known each other for long. Not by the usual standards, anyway.”
“That’s true.” She nodded. “But I do feel like I know you, West. I’m not even sure how it happened.”
“That’s exactly how I feel. I can’t even explain it, but it’s something I don’t want to let slip away.”
She smiled shyly. “I don’t either.”
“In fact, that’s w
hy I stayed around home instead of joining my family in Arizona. I wanted to get to know you.”
“I’m glad you stayed.”
“But now I’m counting the days until you and the Landerses will be leaving.” He frowned. “And that worries me.”
“It worries you?” She tipped her head to one side. “I thought you’d be glad to have your house back.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But I don’t want to see you leave so soon, Emma.”
She seemed to consider this. “What if I stuck around longer? It’s not like I have anything to get back to right away.”
“That’d be great!” He enthusiastically hugged her, almost making them tumble down the slope, but he dug his heels into the snow to anchor them.
“I’m not sure what the Landerses will think.” She grinned. “But I’m not sure it matters.”
“Not to me.” He pulled her closer to him.
“Maybe my skiing will improve too.” Her eyes sparkled.
“No doubt about that.” He watched a snowflake drift down and land gracefully on her nose. Leaning in to flick it off, he moved closer for a kiss. A kiss that she warmly returned, assuring him that her feelings really did align with his.
She smiled. “This place is so beautiful, West. No wonder you make your home here.”
“And it’s not just a Christmas town,” he assured her.
“But it is pretty special at Christmas.” She paused to watch a couple of snowboarders whiz past.
When she turned back around, he used the opportunity to kiss her again. “Merry Christmas, Emma.”
“Merry Christmas!” She gave him a slightly worried look. “It won’t be easy telling the Landerses that I won’t be going home with them.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you with that.” He helped her to stand, embracing her again. “You’re right, Emma. It’s really going to be a perfect Christmas!”
With around 250 books published and 7.5 million sold, Melody Carlson is one of the most prolific writers of our times. Writing primarily for women and teens, and in various genres, she has won numerous national awards—including the Rita, Gold Medallion, Carol Award, Christy, and two career achievement awards. Several of her novels have been optioned for film, and her first Hallmark movie, All Summer Long, premiered in 2019. Melody makes her home in the Pacific Northwest, where she lives with her husband near the Cascade Mountains. When not writing, Melody enjoys interior design, gardening, camping, and biking.
MelodyCarlson.com
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Table of Contents
Cover
Endorsements
Books by Melody Carlson
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
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About the Author
Back Ads
Cover Flaps
Back Cover
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