A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

8. The Mistletoe Grinch

8

THE MISTLETOE GRINCH

H er words make me stagger backward a step in the snow as a vision of her doing exactly that—driving away from this farm eight years ago and never looking back—slams into the forefront of my mind so hard that the pain almost doubles me over.

Watching her leave was the most agonizing thing I’ve ever experienced. Knowing she wasn’t coming back. That I had lost her.

It still burns as hot today as it did back then.

And she threw it at me like an expertly wielded weapon.

One that cut deep.

But maybe I can’t blame her after what I said earlier, calling us a “thing.”

I did it to hurt her intentionally—the way she hurt me. Now, she’s just lashing out, trying to get back at me, even though she’s the one who put us in this position in the first place, the one who ruined everything all those years ago.

We had it all.

We were happy.

At least, I thought we were .

My reaction to her even now tells me nothing about my memories of us being together is imagined.

It was all very real.

Very potent.

Same as this need to protect her from herself right now.

I advance toward her and stop with my bare chest brushing against her parka, staring down into the eyes of the only woman who ever made my heart beat faster before she shattered it—the only one I would give a shit about driving out into the storm.

And to keep her safe, I have to ignore what she just said, no matter how much it hurt.

“You’re not getting back in that car, Noel.”

Her eyes widen, then shift from surprise into a fierce glare I almost never saw directed at me when we were together. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go find your mom and dad and get them to.”

She tries to brush past me, but I wrap an arm around her waist, easily preventing her from advancing. Gasping, she looks up at me, her pink lips spread and harsh pants crystallizing in the air. “Luke Anthony Crisp, you let go of me right now!”

I growl at her. “Absofuckinglutely not!”

Before she can object again and lead us into a never-ending argument with no resolution, I dip my shoulder and toss her up over it.

She yelps, fighting against my hold across the back of her thighs. “Luke, what the hell? Put me down!”

“No.”

I turn back toward the barn and stalk toward it, bending to snag my axe from the snow before I head to the path that leads back into the woods—straight to my cabin.

Noel pounds on my back. “Put. Me. Down. What the hell do you think you’re doing ? ”

At this point, I thought that should be obvious.

“Saving your life. You’re welcome.”

“Saving my life?” She screeches over the wail of the wind battering the trees around us. “Oh, hell no. This is not happening right now!”

Icy-cold snow pelts my exposed skin, but I barely register it.

All I can concentrate on is the feel of her warm body pressed against mine, of holding her again—even if she is fighting me.

She lets out a frustrated groan and changes her tactic, twisting to apparently tug off one of her mittens and dig her nails into the exposed skin on the back of my neck.

I flinch at the bite of pain and pull away instinctively, but the rest of my body doesn’t mind it in the slightest. Instead, flashes of nights we spent together in the very cabin I’m bringing her to, that I shouldn’t be allowing to invade my brain, overtake it. “If you think that’s going to stop me, you must not have a very good memory, Noel.”

She stiffens in my arms, all her fight leaving her with one simple statement.

Shit.

Maybe it was unwise to bring up our sexual history after that comment she just made about me not stopping her, not to mention the fact that I’m currently storming through the woods with her tossed over my shoulder like a damn caveman.

“Luke, you can’t do this!”

“Watch me.”

This is for her own good.

She’s already proven her inability to control that piece-of-shit rental car, and the roads weren’t even as bad yesterday as they are now. The fact that she made it down here tonight at all was probably luck.

And luck wears out.

Especially when the storm is only going to get worse over the next two days.

I can’t be responsible for letting her drive away again into this .

I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her.

Back here, with the high, thick trees offering some protection, the accumulation isn’t as bad, and the well-worn path I take back and forth every day makes it fairly easy for me to carry her toward my place. But once the storm hits in full force, it won’t be so simple to navigate the property, and certainly not the roads.

I still can’t believe she drove down in this.

What the hell was she thinking?

She wasn’t.

She was acting with her heart instead of her head.

And deep down, I can’t really blame her for it.

Not when I know how important the tree always was to her dad, to the family—decorating it together and having it be the center of their family holiday.

Plus, after what I told her today, going home and not having one at the house probably pushed her over the goddamn edge and made her show up here when she should have remained safely inside, watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation and sipping eggnog.

So, really, I’m at least partially to blame for her stupid decision.

And the current consequences of it.

She continues to pound on my back, and the faint light from the single bulb above my front door finally breaks through the swirling snow and trees.

I stomp the last few yards to it, push open the door, step in, and kick it closed behind me with my boot before I set her down on her feet .

Noel wastes no time getting out of my reach. She staggers back a few steps, glaring at me with an intensity I only ever saw from her one other time. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Luke? You can’t keep me here!”

Sucking in a long, slow breath, I turn away from her and lean my axe against the wall, then turn back for the showdown I know is coming. “Yes, I can . Because if I send you out onto that road, you’re going to kill yourself. I already pulled you out of a goddamn ditch once. I’m not going to do it again—this time to find your mangled body inside.”

She flinches and retreats another step, apparently not wanting to be reminded of what could very well happen if she tries to drive home—let alone with a tree strapped to the roof of that car. “But it’s Christmas Eve. My mom is expecting me back. You can’t—”

I release a frustrated growl, then turn back and tug the door open.

This is getting us nowhere.

And staying here to argue won’t change anything.

“Luke! Where the hell are you going?”

I don’t answer her, just pull the solid wood slab closed behind me and quickly snag the key out of my pocket to twist it in the lock.

Of course, she can unlock the deadbolt from the inside—but after eight years, I don’t know that she’ll remember the trick of how to get it to unstick.

Hopefully, she won’t.

But even if she manages to find her way out, there isn’t anywhere to go but back to the lot or Mom and Dad’s house—and she’ll have to make it past me to get to either place.

I shove the key back into my pocket and trek out into the storm, my body heated despite the blustery chill and the freezing cold spray hitting me—both from the exertion of carrying Noel up there and the way she always affects me.

As soon as the trees open up, it intensifies to near white-out—already worse than it was twenty minutes ago when she arrived.

She fucking drove in this?

Her irrationality, where this whole thing is concerned, equally pulls at the part of me that loved her and infuriates the other half that has lived with her destruction for years. And now, it’s on me to call her mother and give her the bad news about her holiday plans.

I make my way down to the barn and slip into the office to use the landline, dialing the number I know by heart with a shaky hand.

It rings twice before her mom answers. “Hello?”

Releasing a little sigh, I summon up the courage to tell this poor woman she’s going to be spending Christmas alone. “Hi, Mrs. Jolly.”

“Luke? Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“What is it? Why are you…Oh, God, Noel was coming down there. Is she all right? Is—”

“She’s fine, Mrs. Jolly. But the way the storm has picked up, there’s no way I can let her back out on that road. It isn’t safe…”

She releases a heavy sigh only a mother can make, followed by a long silence. “I figured as much. She’s been gone an hour now, and it looks pretty nasty out there.”

“It is.” I glance out the open barn doors to where her car is parked, now completely hidden behind a wall of white. “There’s no way she should have driven down here.”

“I know. Believe me, I tried to reason with her, but—”

I squeeze my eyes closed and drop my forehead into my palm, scrubbing it across my face. “There is no reasoning with Noel when it comes to things like this.”

When it comes to anything Christmas .

Noel is obsessive.

She wants everything perfect.

Exactly the way it’s always been.

And that’s impossible this year with her dad gone.

She’s reaching for something she can’t attain and, in doing so, making decisions that are putting her at risk.

The woman who was like a second mother to me issues a little laugh. “No, there isn’t. That’s why I didn’t want to press the issue and get into an argument with her on Christmas Eve. I knew I would lose, and she’d go anyway.”

My chest tightens at having to say these words to her. “I don’t think she’s going to get back tonight…”

“I know, Luke.”

Bile burns my throat, crawling up as I gear up for the final devastating blow. “And the way they’re talking about this going, she likely won’t be there tomorrow, either.”

She releases a long, deep sigh, and I can feel the weight of it on my chest from two miles down the mountain. “If I can’t have Christmas with her, at least she’s getting to spend it with you…”

The words are like an axe straight through my chest—the warmth in them, the affection that has always been there, and that lingering hope that something might change even though that’s an impossibility. “I don’t think she’s too happy about it, Mrs. J.”

Her laughter floats through the line. “I’m sure she isn’t. But I appreciate you keeping her safe, even if she hates you for it.”

“Oh, she hates me all right…” But for a completely different reason. Or now, for this, in addition to that. “I’ll get her home as soon as I can in the truck.”

“I’ll be here. I’m sure not going anywhere in this.”

“Stay warm.”

“You too, kiddo. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

She ends the call, and I drop the phone into the cradle and sit back to stare at it.

What the fuck did I just do?

Locked your ex-girlfriend in your cabin during a blizzard…

Shit.

I wince and rub at my temples and the growing headache there.

It could have been so much worse, though.

If Dad wasn’t under the weather and Mom wasn’t taking care of him, he would’ve been the one out on the lot tonight, and he wouldn’t have had the strength to stop her from leaving the way I did.

I guess I should count my blessings.

But right now, Noel doesn’t seem like one. More like a pissed-off viper, ready to strike the minute I throw that door open.