A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

28. Luke

28

LUKE

D arkness envelops me as I lean against the barn, staring out at the almost pitch-black road. Out here, the only light comes from the winter moon, and the trees growing on either side block it from reaching most of Jolly Lane.

My eyes still somehow find the spot where Noel spun out into the ditch.

Despite how calm it is tonight, how beautiful the moonlight is spilling across the glistening snow on the property, the longer I wait, the tighter my chest becomes, threatening to suffocate me if it doesn’t give my lungs some room to move.

What are you doing, Luke?

This could go badly, so very badly.

It did the last time, and really, nothing’s different now.

We might have shared two glorious days together, pretending that the rest of it didn’t affect us, that it wasn’t all going to lead to this moment again, but we can’t ignore it anymore. And if I let her drive away again without making this last-ditch effort, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

This is your only chance .

The phone in the office rings, and I push off the barn and make my way down the driveway to the road.

My hands tighten on the small box cradled in them.

Noel’s headlights come down the mountain, bright in the utter dark and still night.

I step out into the middle of the road…and wait.

This is so stupid.

This is so stupid.

This is so stupid.

She could hit the gas instead of the brake, and given the way I snapped at her at the clinic, she might be well within her rights to want to.

I had reached the end of my ability to process anything.

The argument I had just had with her at the lake.

What was happening with Mom and Dad.

Our race into town to the clinic.

Still not knowing what was wrong with them or if they would recover.

All of it had overwhelmed me.

It made me bite her head off when she was trying to offer me the comfort I needed.

I just didn’t want it from her when I knew she was going to be the one hurting me by leaving again.

Tonight, all I need her to do is stop.

All I need is a minute—sixty seconds to try to convince her of the thing I couldn’t years ago or even during our argument that night in the cabin or at the lake.

I just need a chance.

The headlights grow closer and closer as she moves toward the farm.

Too close.

She isn’t slowing down.

Shit.

The car passes the tree line where it opens up to the property, where the moonlight should help allow her to see in front of her better, but she still doesn’t slow.

Shit.

Bad idea.

REALLY bad idea.

I prepare to dive out of the way if necessary, but Noel slams on the brakes. The car skids slightly, careening toward me, bright headlights blinding me before it comes to a stop, only a few feet from running me straight over.

My heart thunders against my rib cage, blood rushing in my ears.

Shit, that was too close.

The driver’s side door flies open, and Noel launches herself out, blond hair swirling around her like a golden halo—on one very pissed-off angel. “Luke, what the hell are you doing?”

I lift my hand to block the headlights so I can see her wild blue eyes. “Waiting for you.”

She spreads out her hands wide, her jaw dropping open. “In the middle of the fucking road?”

Her reaction shouldn’t be funny.

Because she really could have killed me.

But I can’t fight the smirk.

“Where else would I wait for you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someplace not in the middle of the road !” She huffs, her breath crystallizing in the cold air. “Why are you waiting for me, anyway?”

Apparently, because I’m an idiot.

And insane.

Isn’t that what they say insanity is?

Repeating the same thing, expecting a different result…

This is now the fourth time I’m going to have this conversation with her, that I’m going to try to get her to stay, and none of those have gone particularly well for me.

But this time, I have a secret weapon—or two—in my arsenal.

I approach her tentatively, holding out the box in front of me like a peace offering. “To give you this. I couldn’t let you leave without it.”

Her gaze softens slightly. “And you couldn’t have brought it up to the house?”

“I was busy.”

Once I left the hospital, I had barely had enough time to launch my Hail Mary, last-ditch effort and get back to the farm before she started coming down the mountain.

She shifts nervously in her UGGs. “I hear your parents are doing better.”

“Much.”

God, she’s so adorable when she’s nervous.

Fiery, feisty Noel is addictive, but this Noel is a heady seductress.

I want to go to her, but I force myself to remain where I am, not wanting to spook her.

Biting her lip, she vaguely motions in the direction of the highway. “I was about to stop and say goodbye to them on my way out of town.”

“They’ll like that.” I motion toward her with the box. “Take it.”

Her gaze narrows on it skeptically, like it might contain a bomb or something.

“Please, Noel…”

She approaches slowly and accepts it, flipping open the top to look inside. Her eyes widen slowly, and she reaches in and pulls out the contents, rushing to the front of the car to examine it in the headlights.

The beam reflects off the green globe ornament—the one that bears the same design as the one she broke, the one I gave her when we were sixteen .

“Where did you find this?” She peers up at me, still turning it in the light. “I looked in town. Bethany didn’t recognize it.”

I shake my head, watching her wonder and awe. “She wouldn’t have.”

Soft blond brows draw low. “Why not?”

“Because I made it.”

She pushes to her feet suddenly. “You what?”

“I mean…” I rub at the back of my neck. “I didn’t do the glass blowing. I bought the plain glass ornament from Rose, but I painted it. This one and the original I gave you.”

Her mouth opens and closes, but she can’t seem to manage any words.

“I know you didn’t break it on purpose, and I know how upset you were. I could see it that day at the town square tree, so…I…made you a new one.”

Lips quivering, she carefully slides it back into the box like it’s the most precious thing she owns. “When? When did you paint it for me?”

I run a hand back through my hair, glancing away and up toward the cabin.

She follows my gaze. “When we were up there?”

I nod.

Her eyes widen. “Is that why you kept disappearing?”

All those times I had to tear myself away from her…

Leave her alone and usually naked in my bed or shower…

“Yeah…” Now I shift in my boots, suddenly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “All my painting supplies are in the shed. I converted it into a little studio, has a space heater and everything. I didn’t want you to know what I was doing.” I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. “I had planned to give it to you when we came back from the lake.”

“Oh, my God.” Noel presses her hand over her chest and leans back against the car, apparently not caring how dirty she’s getting the back of her jacket and her jeans. “I had no idea you could do this, that you had this much talent. How did I never know that?”

I offer a half shrug. “How did I never know you wanted to leave Mistletoe so badly that you actually would do it without me?”

She flinches and squeezes her eyes closed, releasing a long, heavy sigh.

This is it.

My last chance.

“You love it here, Noel. You always have.” It’s hard to keep the waver out of my voice when I so badly want her to hear me. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t feel like home.”

She glances up at me, her eyes suddenly shimmering. “Of course, it feels like home. It is home.”

I fist my hands at my sides. “Then why have you spent the last eight years in Toronto instead of here with me, with your parents, with everyone who loves you?”

“People love me in Toronto.”

This time, I flinch.

All those nightmares I had imagining her “private lessons” with the players flash through my head.

“Shit. Not like that, Luke. I don’t have a…boyfriend or anything. But I have friends, a life there.”

“And your dream job, right?”

She nods. “And my dream job.”

Here goes the Hail Mary.

“What is it you love so much about that?”

I clench and unclench my fists, wanting so badly to go to her, to pull her up against me, to feel her as we have this conversation.

Noel’s slender shoulders rise and fall. “You know how much I’ve always loved hockey, and doing PR for the team is like…I don’t know how to describe it. ”

“It’s nothing you could ever do here…”

Her brow furrows again. “No. It’s not.”

For all the benefits a small town like Mistletoe offers—the untouched beauty, the friendly people, the safety, and the community—there aren’t a lot of opportunities for anyone who doesn’t want to work at Town Hall or one of the small shops that line Main Street.

Or on their parents’ farm.

And I didn’t see it until it was too late.

She always felt like her talents were wasted here, that she couldn’t grow or use her skills for anything that meant something when she was stifled by the size of Mistletoe.

That’s what she gets now working for the team .

Acid churns in my stomach as I take a step toward her. “What if it was?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “What do you mean?”

I approach her tentatively, afraid she might bolt and climb right back into the car. “What if your dream job was here in Mistletoe?”

A tear trickles down her cheek, and she pulls her lip under her teeth and shakes her head. “But it’s not, Luke.”

“Not that job, Noel.” I give her a tight smile. “Unless the NHL decides Mistletoe is the perfect location for an expansion team. They could play up at the lake.”

That earns me a tiny smile.

“What’s the one thing you love more than hockey, more than just about anything?”

The corners of her mouth twitch slightly. “Christmas.”

“Christmas.” I inch closer. “You know your dad did, too, and he cherished his role as the head of the decoration committee.”

She nods slowly. “Yes, he did.”

“No one has taken his place.”

Her brow furrows. “Really? Then who did everything this year?”

I offer a shrug. “Half the town. Everybody did a little piece here, a little piece there, kind of haphazardly thrown together. I think you could see that result in the rush and scramble to get the ceremony ready in time.”

She snorts. “It did seem a little mismanaged. The tree was the only thing that seemed to be done right.”

Damn.

The compliment melts away the chill of the frigid night air, and I take another step closer.

“You know how important tourism is to Mistletoe…”

“Of course.”

Here goes nothing.

“Think about what you could do for this town if you headed that committee”—I swallow back any lingering nerves about laying this out on the table—“and if you were head of the entire PR department for Mistletoe.”

Her back stiffens. “That position doesn’t exist.”

“What if it did?”

She stares at me for far too long, until I don’t think she’s going to respond.

“Noel? Would it be enough to make you stay?”

“Don’t-don’t”—her body trembles, and she shakes her head—“do this to me again, Luke.”

I can’t stop myself from going to her this time and taking her face in my palms to tilt it up. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t try to convince me to stay when you know I can’t.”

“Not even for a job like that? Where you can promote Christmas year-round. Where you can help every single person you love, everyone you grew up with, and their businesses succeed. When you can be the one picking the tree and in control of the decorations for the whole town.” I release a little laugh. “God, Noel, do you have any idea what you could do for Mistletoe? ”

Her eyes flutter open to meet mine.

“We need someone like you who understands modern social media marketing, how to reach new customers, how to draw people here—and not just in November and December. There are so many things we could be doing that we’re not, so many steps we could take that would bolster the economy, that would help us grow, that would ensure everyone here has what they need to survive”—I take a fortifying breath—“to ensure that I have what I need to survive.”

“What’s that?”

Her question is so soft I barely hear it over the engine running.

“I need you, Noel. I always have.” Pain and soul-eating anxiety sear through me. “The last two days that we spent together have proven that to me because I felt alive again for the first time in eight years. And as soon as my mom told me you were leaving again, I felt like I had died inside. I was terrified I wouldn’t catch you in time.”

“How did you?” She glances back toward the farm. “Have you been standing out here, waiting for me all night?”

I shake my head. “Your mom called when you left your house.”

Her eyes widen, and her gaze drifts up the mountain toward where her mom probably waits to see the results of our mothers’ matchmaking work. “She knew?”

I chuckle. “Noel, look at me.”

Her eyes flick over to meet mine.

“I’m serious, Snowflake. I talked to Mayor Nielsen about all this.”

“You what?”

“As painful as it is to admit, I understand why you need a challenge. That having a job you love, where you feel needed and like what you’re doing matters.” I brush my thumb across her cheek through the damp track her tears have left. “But I also know you love Mistletoe, these people, and Christmas more than anybody else. This job is literally being created for you . This is your job. If you want it.”

New tears fall as she stares up at me. “And what if I don’t?”

I swallow. “Then…I’ll come with you.”

Disbelief flashes in her gaze. “You don’t mean that.”

Eight years ago, I wouldn’t have.

Even a week ago, I would have said the thought of leaving home and Mistletoe was crazy.

Yesterday, sitting in that hospital room, I would have said it was completely out of the question.

And I didn’t plan to make the declaration when I stopped this car.

But there isn’t a single thing I’m more sure of now.

“Yes, I do, Snowflake. It’s what I should have said eight years ago when we were standing in almost exactly the same spot.”

“No.” She shakes her head, swallowing a sob. “No, no, no, you can’t leave the farm. You can’t leave your parents. God, look what just happened.”

I take her face in my palms and tilt it up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I will hire someone to come help them. Your mom will check in on them every day. They won’t be alone, just like your mom isn’t.”

“But what would you do in Toronto?”

It’s the same question I asked her only a few days ago, the one that kept me from going to her and staying all those years ago.

“Well…” I glance down at the ornament in the box. “I’m not bad with a paintbrush.”

She follows my gaze and then looks back up at me. “You would sell painted ornaments to people?”

I offer a half shrug. “To start, I guess. I always loved art class, and I wasn’t terrible at it. I had a lot of free time over the last eight years to mess around with it. I’ve been painting a lot. I don’t know if I can turn it into anything, a career or a job, or a way to make any sort of money, but I could try.”

“You would try?”

That disbelief I saw in her eyes leaches into her voice, and the fact that she could ever doubt me claws against my chest.

“I would for you, Snowflake. For us. For this. For what we had in the cabin for that day and a half to be what we have every day for the rest of our lives.”

Her sob slips out now, and she slaps her hand over her mouth to fight it.

Brushing away her rapidly falling tears, I press a kiss on her forehead. “Please don’t cry like that. It makes me think you’re going to say something I’m not going to want to hear.”

I tug her against my chest and let her cry, and she wraps her arms around my neck, burying her face against my skin.

“What am I supposed to do, Luke?”

“Whatever you need to, Snowflake. Whatever makes you happy.”

She pulls back and kisses me softly. “You, you’re what makes me happy.”

“That doesn’t tell me what you’re going to do, Noel.”

Squeezing me tightly, she drags me down, hovering her lips over mine. “There’s only one possible thing I can do.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t take you from your parents. I can’t take you from this place. I love it too much. You love it too much. You’d be fucking miserable in Toronto, even if we were together, and eventually, you’d resent me.”

I jerk back, tipping her chin up. “I could never resent you, Snowflake.”

“Yes”—she laughs, but there’s no humor in it—“you could, and I won’t allow that to happen, not when you’ve created the perfect solution. And this opportunity for me in Mistletoe, it didn’t exist eight years ago…” Her whole body trembles. “You created a dream job for me.”

“I’d do anything to make you stay.” I kiss her gently, letting my lips linger on hers. “I can’t watch you drive away again.”

She smiles. “You’ll never have to again.”

“Good.” I slip away from her, duck into the car, turn off the engine, flip on the flashers, and return to her with keys in hand. “You won’t need these, then.”

“What are you doing?” She glances at the car. “You can’t leave it in the middle of the road.”

“Yes, I can. Your mom is already at home, and my parents won’t be released from the hospital until tomorrow. No one is coming up here.”

I tug her away from the hood and up against me again.

She offers a confused look. “Where are we going?”

To relive one of my favorite memories.

I motion behind her toward the lot. “To the barn. I have unspeakable things that baby Jesus definitely won’t like that I want to do to you in there. Again. ”

Throwing her over my shoulder, her yelp echoes through the night, and motion along the side of the road draws my eyes in that direction.

A rabbit hops slowly to the middle of the road and pauses, its ears perked up, eyes locked on us.

Noel shifts on my shoulder, pushing herself up slightly. “Is that—”

I nod, tightening my grip on her. “Yep.”

It may look like an innocent animal simply trying to cross the road, but I can see it for what it is now.

Something—or someone —intervening and ensuring this happened.

Our own Christmas miracle.