A Copper Ridge Christmas Page 3

  “I have a key,” he said.

  “You do?” She resisted the urge to ask why he had a key and she didn’t.

  “Yes. And I could go with you.” He sounded pained, and obnoxiously long-suffering.

  “Well that’s...nice. If a bit grudging.”

  “I’m flattered you think I’m nice, Holly.”

  “And grudging!”

  “I’m focusing on the ‘nice’ part.”

  She made a scoffing sound and took her jacket off the back of her chair, then hurriedly packed up her laptop and notebook, bundling up before following him outside into the darkening evening. It wasn’t quite five, but the sky was already starting to turn a deeper blue as the sun sank into the sea.

  “I walked over,” he said. “Do you mind driving?”

  “No, I’m just parked down the block.”

  The businesses on the main street were starting to close. Only restaurants stayed open past dark during the winter months. Rebekah Bear was standing outside the souvenir store, bringing in her signs and flags for the night, and she waved as Holly and Ryan passed.

  White lights, strung around the various buildings, suddenly lit up as the sky continued to darken. Holly had lived in Copper Ridge for most of her life, but Christmas in the beautiful town was still remarkable to her. Walking beside Ryan, she was struck by a feeling of intimacy. He was tall and warm and she found herself wanting to lean into him. To brush her hand against his.

  Nope. Nope nope nope.

  She took a step away from him, to get a hold of her wayward fantasies. She was suddenly less focused on the town, and much more focused on just getting to her car, a little white beacon in the dimness.

  “It’s unlocked,” she said, jerking open the driver side door and getting in, fishing her key out of her bottomless bag before jamming it into the ignition.

  He got in after her, closing the door, and she suddenly realized that her car was not the safe haven she had been imagining it might be. It certainly did nothing to dispel the tension that she felt between them. Tension that Ryan was probably completely oblivious to, because Ryan had always been oblivious to the way he made her feel. Good thing, too.

  He had no idea how many fantasies she’d woven around him as a young teenager. Had no idea that when he’d moved out of Margie and Dan’s a few months after she’d moved in, she’d spent the evening watching “It’s A Wonderful Life” and crying while eating a tub of ice cream.

  He had no clue about any of that, and he would never know that even though she didn’t have feelings for him anymore, per se, there were still some nights when she had trouble sleeping, and thoughts of him would enter her sleepy brain. That on those nights, feelings for him would take over her restless body. He didn’t need to know that it was the easiest thing in the world, on those nights, to slip her hands between her thighs and think of...

  Yeah, he did not need to know any of that, and she didn’t need to be thinking that while they were closed up inside her car. Honestly, how had she thought this would be less uncomfortable than the open street?

  Neither of them said anything as she drove out on the main road, away from town and up toward the winding back road that led to the houses set into the hills that overlooked the ocean. There was a run of vacation rentals, a small gated community, and then a few larger houses on the street. At the very end of it was the massive West Family Ranch, the largest equine facility in Copper Ridge. Though it was currently getting a run for its money thanks to Jack Monaghan and his ranch, if rumors were to be believed.

  The Travers family home was between the gated community and the West Ranch. It was a stunning, two-story house with a beautiful yard, tall, stately pine trees standing behind it, and a view of the ocean through large bay windows.

  It was the kind of home she’d imagined only existed in movies when she’d been a child. Being allowed to come inside had been beyond her wildest fantasies. To actually live here? To stay and to attend parties? It had been like something out of a dream.

  Being taken away from her parents by Child Protective Services had been terrifying. Leaving everything she knew, even when what she knew was bleak, was frightening. But then she’d seen this house. Margie and Dan had been there waiting, with open arms, and instantly, Holly had felt like she was in a movie. A fairytale where she was the secret princess.

  The impact of this house, of coming here, hadn’t lessened even now that she was an adult. Her heart still swelled as she pulled her car up to the gate and entered in the code so that it swung open, allowing them entry.

  “You sure you have the key with you?” she asked, pulling through to the paved, circular drive and stopping the car just in front of the door.

  “Of course. But even if I didn’t, I know how to get in without using the front entry.”

  He got out of the car, and she followed suit. “Really?”

  “I snuck out more than once during my teen years. And back in. Successfully.”

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door and opened it, holding out his arm as if waiting for her to enter. As she walked into the expansive entryway, her heart fluttered a little bit.

  She should be a lot more blasé about this kind of thing, really. She’d lived in this home for almost five years, after all. But even so, every time she walked in it returned her to that place of feeling honored to be permitted to be a part of something. It made her a thirteen-year-old again. Happy for the first time.

  “It’s all still in the attic,” she said, gesturing to the sweeping, curved staircase.

  “Oh, I know where it is. Because fetching decorations was my job.”

  “Oh, poor put-upon youth. No wonder you had to sneak out.” She tried to imagine Ryan being filled with enough whimsy to do something like sneak out and look for trouble. It was difficult. She never would have dared to sneak out, for fear of upsetting the magical world she’d been admitted to.

  Of course, she’d assumed it would have been the same for him. Her vision of him was that he’d always been responsible, serious. He’d bought his fishing boat at a young age, then moved out, and had been working on the boat ever since.

  “Why did you sneak out? I have to know.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, honestly.”

  “I was doing an apprenticeship on a fishing boat.”

  She blinked. “Oh.”

  “Sorry, it’s not exactly sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.”

  “I didn’t take you for that type, actually. This...makes more sense.” He started up the staircase, and Holly scurried after him. “Why didn’t you tell Dan and Margie? Why did you sneak?”

  “Habit, I guess. I found something I was interested in and didn’t want to be shot down. Dan didn’t shoot my dreams down, of course. When he caught me and found out what I was doing, he encouraged me. As long as I didn’t let my grades slip, he said I could go out on the boats on the weekends.”

  “We were pretty lucky to have them,” Holly said, emotion pressing tightly on her chest.

  “Damn straight,” he said. “I think so too. You can tell because I’m here fetching Christmas decorations for you. For them.” He reached the top of the stairs, then opened the door that led to the attic. “Why don’t you come and choose what you like?” he asked, jerking his head toward the door.

  She took a deep breath. She was headed for another small space with Ryan. That was a lot to ask of her Ryan-frayed nerves in a short amount of time.

  But he seemed oblivious —which was for the best —so she was going to act like it wasn’t anything.

  She swept past him and up the stairs, grabbing hold of the small cord hanging down from the bare light fixture on the ceiling, pulling it and illuminating the space.

  Everything was neatly stacked and organized. Probably not by Margie, but mos
t certainly delegated by her. The thought made Holly smile.

  “There they are,” Ryan said, gesturing to a stack of bins clearly labeled “Christmas.”

  “Okay. Well, my house is a lot smaller than this one, so I’m going to have to be selective.”

  “Why do I feel like I might as well have gone shopping with you? This is about the same.”

  “At least we didn’t have to drive out of town to get to a big box store. So there’s that.”

  “Small comfort.”

  “Wrap yourself in it like a blanket, Masters, because you’ll get few more of those small comforts. We’re on the Yule train, next stop tidings of comfort and joy.” She walked toward the bins. “Okay, but lift that top box for me because it looks heavy.”

  He walked past her and reached over her head, lifting the bin easily. She felt a momentary stab of bitterness over the fact that his jacket was covering his arms. It would have been nice to at least get a little peek at how the muscles on his forearms shifted as he worked.

  But that was bad and not to be encouraged.

  She moved to the bin and pulled the lid off, unwrapping a little glass house with glittering porcelain snow on the delicate rooftops. “The village,” she said, turning it over slowly. “I love this.” She rewrapped it and placed it down gently, unwrapping the next one, a little church with stained glass windows. “These are really special. I hope Margie doesn’t mind that I’m using them.”

  “She said I could use them. Probably better you than me. And you know how she is. She would say they were meant to be used, not packed away.”

  Holly smiled, her gaze still focused on the little houses. “You’re right about that.”

  She continued to sift through the decorations, collecting three bins’ worth before deciding her house would be overflowing with festiveness if she took any more.

  “I think that’s enough,” she said, surveying her haul.

  She started to bend down to pick up one of the containers, and Ryan moved at the same time. Their heads collided.

  She rocked back, pressing her palm to her forehead. “Ow!”

  Ryan swore sharply, and Holly looked up as he pressed his palm against the place where she’d crashed into him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her fingertips over her temple. “Are you okay?”

  He grimaced. “My head is a hell of a lot harder than yours. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, ignoring the fact that she felt a little bit of an echo in her brain.

  He took a step toward her, his dark eyes intent on hers. “Are you sure? Let me see.”

  Before she could protest or move away, he closed the distance between them, bracketing her cheeks with his hands and tilting her face upward toward his.

  She was so shocked by the close proximity that all of the air rushed out of her lungs and her lips parted slightly. Her heart was racing, her breasts feeling suddenly heavy. She felt... Suddenly extremely conscious of the fact that she was a woman. Hyper feminine. Which was funny, because she bet she looked like a guppy.

  At least he liked fish.

  “How many eyeballs do I have?” he asked, his dark brows locked together as he examined her intensely.

  She couldn’t accurately answer the question because her eyes were now fully focused on his mouth. His lips were beautiful. A strange descriptor to apply to a man like him—a man who was as rough and rugged as the sea he worked on—but they were. In many ways, he was, too.

  Or she was delirious. Or both. It could be both.

  “Just the two, right?” she asked.

  “Last I checked.”

  “But you hit your head too,” she said, unbearably conscious of the fact that he was still holding on to her. Of the fact that his hands were strong. Of how hot his skin was.

  Oh, Lord. He was sexy. She could keep trying to forget that. Try to have it not be the number one thing in her mind whenever she was near him. But it didn’t change the fact that her body was operating on a low hum of arousal whenever he was around. And right now? Right now it was far beyond a low hum.

  She was vibrating with it. Down to her core.

  He was so close that all she would have to do was stand up on her tiptoes and lean in to taste those very compelling lips. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed. And that kiss from at least two years ago now had not thrilled her to the degree that standing here, just thinking about kissing Ryan did.

  That was the problem. It was always the problem.

  She’d never found a man who measured up to the fantasy of Ryan. Maybe because fantasy was better than reality. She honestly wasn’t experienced enough to know. And she’d never experienced Ryan, so she really couldn’t know for sure.

  You could. If you would just lean in...

  She looked up, her eyes clashing with his, her heart thundering hard. And she found herself doing just that. Found herself tilting forward slightly, closing the distance between them.

  Suddenly, he released his hold on her, taking a step back. She stumbled, and he reached out again, steadying her before setting her upright and putting a healthy bit of distance between them. “Seems like you might be a little dizzy,” he said, his tone stiff.

  “Yeah,” she said, her cheeks heating. She had the distinct impression that he knew what she’d been about to do. And that his sudden withdrawal was a rejection of it.

  Great. Just great. Throw away years of hard-won self-control and hit on the one man you need help from right now. Expert decision-making.

  “I’ll get the boxes. Why don’t you just... go wait in the car.”

  She nodded slowly, turning and walking out of the attic, making her way down the stairs, ignoring the echo of her heart beating in her ears. She was going to pretend this hadn’t happened. She had to. If she didn’t, she would go crazy.

  She didn’t have time to go crazy or the luxury of having things be weird with Ryan right now. She had to keep it under control. Keep that crap on lockdown. If she really wanted to make out with someone, she needed to find someone else.

  She got in the car and put the radio on. It would act as a buffer between Ryan and the awkwardness that would enter the car upon his arrival. She cranked the music up louder and looked out at the ocean below. She’d managed to keep her attraction for him in check for the past fourteen years. A bump on the head and a moment of weakness would not make her waver now.

  After thirteen years of ignoring it, a couple more weeks couldn’t be that difficult.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE HAD BEEN no easy escape from Holly last night. And it was a damned shame, because he’d most definitely needed an easy escape. After whatever the hell had happened up in the attic, he’d needed a whole continent between them, not to sit back in a compact car with her.

  If he were a true gentleman, he would’ve reminded her that she would need help carrying the bins of Christmas decorations that were still in back of her car, into the house. But he hadn’t, and instead asked her for a ride back to his boat. Because he’d been desperate to get away from her and the temporary insanity that had assaulted him back at the Traverses’ place.

  Of course, that quick getaway hadn’t helped him too much. Because today he was taking her up to get a Christmas tree. Not one from a lot, because the precut tree would never last all the way through to the new year, like she wanted it to. And he had a truck with four-wheel-drive, and many other reasons he was the go-to person to help her out with this.

  The sick thing was, part of him was pleased about it.

  No prizes for guessing which part of him that was.

  He looked out the windshield of his truck at Holly’s little arts and crafts style home and fought the urge to lay on the horn. He was not going in to get her. Was not setting foot in her house as long as his head w
as this screwed up.

  Something had changed between them last night. The air around them had gotten thicker. His blood had run hotter and faster because she was close to him. And he’d been unable to take his eyes off her lips. He’d hit heads with her hard enough to give her a concussion, and he’d been obsessing over what it would be like to run his tongue along the edge of her mouth.

  He’d thought he’d let any fantasies of licking her die a stone-cold death the night of her eighteenth birthday. When he’d almost kissed a lonely, desolate girl because he hadn’t known what else to do. Because she’d looked so sad, and so beautiful and he’d known he didn’t have the right words.

  She was too innocent for that. He’d felt like a tool for even going there in his mind. She’d needed a friend, and he’d wanted to...

  He gritted his teeth.

  No. Holly fantasies were damn well off-limits. Then and now.

  He looked down at his phone, sitting on the torn-up bench seat, and saw he had about five text messages from Holly. He rolled his eyes and picked it up, scrolling through the messages. She was still getting ready, apparently. And, had he bothered to check his messages, he would have known that. He’d never been big in communicating with people this way. He only had a smartphone because it helped him stay in touch with business accounts. Teenage him would be pretty distressed to know that fishing all day required a lot of business-type work involved in it if he wanted to make any money.

  Acknowledging that didn’t make him a fan of it. Or a fan of text messaging.

  He was right in the freaking driveway, and she could stick her head out and yell at him if she wanted to. Failing that, she could always dial his phone number. That was what phones were for, after all.

  Okay, maybe he was grumpy. And old-fashioned. He lived on a boat; he didn’t need to modernize.

  Holly chose that exact moment to come tumbling out of her house, her bright hair barely contained beneath a knitted beanie, a matching sweater hugging curves he was far more attuned to at the moment than he would like to be. She was also wearing mittens. Which were the most ridiculous things he could possibly think of a grown woman choosing to wear. And yet he was immediately obsessed with the idea of pulling the mittens off her hands so he could see the delicate fingers beneath. Actually, all those layers had that kind of effect. Made him feel like he wanted to unwrap her like a present.