Merry Mended Hearts (Santa’s Radio Christmas Romance #1)

20. Grace

GRACE

When I woke up, my thoughts were blazing like the fire in the hearth. I stretched my arms and legs, burrowed in the blanket Boone and I had shared during our kisses last night, and searched for my notebook.

The ideas wouldn’t stop. It was all I could do to turn to a blank page before my pen took on a personality of its own. It was as though the pen was connected to my brain and had become an IV, dripping ideas onto the page.

I wrote about snow. I wrote about an unexpected storm and the devilish elven king whisking the princess into a cave to protect her. I wrote about his secret feelings and his inability to keep them in any longer, what with being in such close quarters.

She got frostbite during their travels, so he snuggled, keeping her warm and whispering the deepest longings of his heart into her ear when he thought she was sleeping.

It turned out she heard everything . And she rolled over in his arms and said, “Your soul speaks to mine like you speak to me now. With a whisper.”

The elven warrior’s eyes blazed with fierce desire. His hands slid to her face, and the touch was fire, blazing through every frozen part of not only her body but her regard for him, until he was all she wanted. Some underlying truths came to light about the events leading up to her kidnapping. She realized the elven warrior, once thought to be evil, had been protecting her instead.

And as he brought his mouth to hers?—

“You look like you’re in the zone.”

My pen slid across the page. The slice of ink across the white surface severed me from my fantasy world. I blinked up to find Boone standing near the dining table holding a pair of tongs.

“Aw, right before the kiss,” I said, slumping back with a pout.

I tried to draw the moment back to me, but I looked at Boone. His eyes glimmered at me. He was no longer in pajama pants—and while the sight of him shirtless would be imprinted in my eyelids forever, he wore a long-sleeved, red, flannel shirt.

His hair was wet and tousled, and a fresh brush of scruff shaded his jaw line, making my mouth water.

Slowly, pieces of reality began to seep into me, bringing the part of my brain I’d been able to tune out to reality. The warmth emanating from the blazing fire in the hearth, the scent of bacon sizzling from behind him. My stomach grumbled hungrily.

“What was that about a kiss?” he said.

“Oh.” My cheeks heated. I tapped my pen against the paper. “I was just in the middle of writing one.”

A handful of beats passed. My pulse pounded in my ears. He said nothing, standing stiff and unresponsive for so long, I worried I’d said something wrong.

Maybe I’d imagined the change between us the night before.

“That smells amazing,” I said, placing the notebook back into my slouchy bag.

I’d have to finish that kiss later. When I didn’t have an audience.

“Thanks. We still have no power, but I was able to get the stove lit.”

“It pays to have outdated appliances,” I said, rising to my feet.

Leaving the blankets behind, I trotted through the side door and into the frigid wasteland that was the back of the cottage. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I came back.

By this time, Boone had plates set out onto the table. He hadn’t mentioned our kisses since the night before. In fact, he was acting too distant for my liking.

Did he regret what happened?

He wasn’t bringing it up. I didn’t know how to. So I crossed to the table to sit down instead.

The lacy curtains behind the dining table were parted, revealing glass that had a slightly distressed look along the edges as though it weren’t completely flat or smooth. This house must really be old.

I peered out at the breathtaking view. Snow spread itself on everything it could, dusting every surface like icing. Icicles dripped from branches like silver thread.

The sheer whiteness at every angle hinted at innocence and purity, the sparkling magic of untouchable things. It was spectacular.

“It’s so pretty outside,” I said. “No more storm.”

Interesting, that something so rough and dangerous had resulted in something so lovely and mesmerizing.

“It’s clear enough for me to take you back.”

His words got my back up. I frowned.

Where did this come from? His comment was colder than my bones had been last night. I didn’t want him to go back to being wintry. I wanted the summer Boone, the one who melted me with a single glance.

“I don’t want to head back,” I said.

At least, not right away. Not only did I want as much time with him as I could get, we needed to work through a few things first.

“I need to take you back, Grace.”

His admission stabbed me with a pang of discomfort. This SO did not measure up with the delight that had coursed through me last night and this morning.

“Are you saying you regret what happened?” I asked.

I didn’t want to ask. I dreaded the answer, but I had to know.

He glared at me. “No.”

“No, you don’t regret kissing me?”

“No.”

It was a good thing Boone didn’t work in the traffic industry. He gave horrible directions.

I folded my arms. “Then what’s wrong? I can’t fly home thinking I did something wrong or took advantage of your hospitality. That’s the last thing I want.”

“What does that mean?”

I gestured to the window. The view outside was no longer beauty and splendor. Now, it was frost and menace.

“I’m the reason we’re stuck out here because I asked you for a sleigh ride. With emotions high last night, I just don’t want you to…It sounds like…”

Like he regrets me. Because it totally sounded like he did.

Boone grimaced and grumbled under his breath, and when he looked at me again, his eyes shouted with sadness, with something unspeakable burning in the centers.

He was fighting a serious battle. One I didn’t fully understand. Was this about his wife?

“Grace,” he said. “I don’t regret you. I thought about you all night long. You made me feel things I haven’t in a long time. That’s why I’m trying to keep my distance from you this morning, you beautiful, aggravating woman. I’m trying to be good.”

Oh, come all ye faithful. He gave me a smirk that could melt the snow.

I swallowed down a lump in my throat, attempting to grasp his meaning.

“Then you don’t regret kissing me last night?”

He came to me, then. With every step he took closer to me, my body ignited, wagging its tail like an excited puppy.

He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles, sending a zing of shivers down my spine.

“I’ve never had a kiss take over me like that. Not in years. I was about to lose myself in your lips, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

My blood heated in my veins. All night long, I’d nestled into the night’s happy turn and wondered if he was as enthralled by me as I was by him. But this admission? I’d never expected to hear anything like that.

“It wouldn’t?” I asked.

“No. Not when I can’t promise you more than that. If we’re getting close to each other, it should mean more than a one-time-only kind of thing. You’ve got a man waiting for you back home. A job, a family. And I’m a recluse here, miles away from anyone, who spends his time with horses. We can’t have more than last night, so I don’t want to fill either of us with false hope.”

His voice carried an edge of agony with it. Was he really worrying about me—or himself?

I’d told him how unhappy I was down in Arizona. I’d be ready to give it all up if he was offering.

But that was so foolish, I couldn’t even say it. We’d only just met.

He was right—a kiss like what we’d shared last night made it feel like we were more connected than we actually were.

Boone had lost someone he loved, and he clearly didn’t want to get anyone like that again.

“She’s why you don’t like Christmas, isn’t she?” I asked softly. “It reminds you of her.”

Boone turned back to our plates of bacon and eggs. The scent called to my empty stomach, and even though the food was getting cold, I didn’t sit down to eat yet.

“It happened the night before Christmas,” he said sadly. “I left everything behind when she died because everything reminds me of her. But Christmas worst of all.”

Sorrow strummed in my chest. I couldn’t imagine how this made him feel.

I’d never had a person who was close to me pass away, but enduring the loss of someone so close had to be a bombshell. And to have it happen at such a pivotal time of year? One that kept coming around every December?

“I’m so sorry. I can see why this time of year is painful for you.”

He may not think so, but loving again after losing someone was possible. While I wasn’t so sure about Santa Claus, I fully believed that.

“What if…” I began, pressing on before I lost my nerve. “What if we tried to make this work? I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to let you go.”

I’d never been this decisive in my life, but I was surer than anything that I wanted to get to know him better. I didn’t want last night to be our only kiss.

“Her name was Grace.” His voice was deadly soft.

“What?”

“Amy and I. It was the name we’d picked out for our daughter. All good things come from Christ’s grace. We wanted her to have that name. Lovely as you are, I can’t have that reminder.”

Tears stung my eyes. I remembered how he’d recoiled the day we’d met. I’d thought his withdrawal was because I’d claimed not to believe in Santa Claus, but his disgust had been because of me.

I read what he wasn’t saying: No matter what solutions we might try, I couldn’t escape my own name.

“Then you never should have kissed me,” I said.

His eyes were hard again when they met mine. They were ice. No, they were the sledgehammer against ice.

“You’re right,” he said. “But I won’t say I’m sorry for that.”

What did that mean?

He didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask. I sat down, confusion fizzling beneath my skin like a newly opened bottle of carbonated soda.

We ate breakfast in silence, with only the sounds of the fire flickering in the grate and the scent of bacon swarming the kitchen. Ordinarily, I loved bacon, but I couldn’t enjoy its distinct taste.

With the way Boone stared at his plate, at the floor, at the wall, everywhere but at me, I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where he was. The kisses we’d shared last night, the tenderness he’d shown, his mouth on mine—it was going to haunt me for the rest of my life. He’d said I had someone waiting for me back home, but I didn’t. Not really. And even if I did, Boone’s kiss had ruined me for anyone else.

I changed into my regular clothes—which were a little stiff but were warm having spent the night by the fire. One article at a time, we armored up in our snow garb. I stuffed my feet back into my thin boots.

The morning air was even chillier than it’d been last night. I stepped out of Boone’s front door and just stared, breathing the icy air into my lungs.

Sunlight made the snow blinding, but the forest view was a wonder to behold. Everything seemed so fragile, so breakable, being covered in whiteness as it was. The sun left a sparkle everywhere it touched. The sight helped to lift my momentary woes.

Just because Boone was a stick in the mud, that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy beauty like this.

“This is so gorgeous,” I said, holding out my hands as if I could catch the snow’s twinkle in my fingers.

Boone grunted.

“Oh, come on. Don’t you ever step outside and just stare at what you have here?”

He glared in the direction of the barn, which was made of faded gray wood. “I don’t know. I guess I see it all the time, so it’s not that amazing to me.”

I whacked his arm. “Then stop and look. Look!”

Boone’s brows lifted. I expected some repercussions, but instead, he inhaled, stood beside me, and gazed at the trees. We shared the moment, letting go of the urgency to leave and just look instead.

I inhaled, swallowing as much of the brisk morning air as I could. “I adore snow. There. I said it.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you not supposed to say it?”

I rubbed the sleeves of my puffy red coat. “Not according to my dad. He can’t stand the cold, and I get that; but how could anyone hate a view like this? And you have all of this right here, in your palm.”

He didn’t respond, and for some reason, that irritated me. He couldn’t appreciate what was right in front of him? Fine. I turned away, wanting a view of the cottage before we left it—and then something struck my shoulder.

I reacted, leaping with a little shriek. A splat of snow smattered my coat.

Grinning incredulously, I searched him out, only to dodge Boone’s second snowball just in time.

“What are you doing?” I asked, bracing my hands over my head.

“Snow isn’t that amazing,” he said, patting another snowball together and lobbing it in my direction.

“That’s it.” I shrieked with laughter and dove for a snowball of my own.

I was struck more often than I got him, but by the time our fight ended, I got close enough for him to capture me in his arms. And in a swift motion of surprising and impressive strength, Boone lifted me and tossed me to the ground on a blanket of soft snow.

My laughter reached the treetops. I fought him, squealing away as he tried to stuff snow down my back. The resulting cold was so stark, it stole a hiss from me.

“Come on! You know how much the cold affects me.”

He grinned and shamelessly dusted snow from his gloves. “Then I’ll just have to heat you up again, won’t I?”

The statement sent a hot streak of awareness up my spine. I froze on the snowy ground, panting, staring at this handsome, confusing man and wondering what in the heck was going on. Because this was a vast contradiction to his behavior when I woke up.

“What happened to ‘I need to take you back?’” I grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it in his face.

Boone shook off the snow’s white traces. I panted, chest tight. His shoulders heaved as well. The sun created a glow around him, stilling the moment and blurring everything else.

Without warning, he bowled into me. He flattened me to the snow, and I felt it against my neck once more. Squealing, I wrestled him, pushing against his shoulders. He gave in, allowing me to roll him off so that I could be on the offense.

Or so I thought. My victory didn’t last long.

Soon enough, we were rolling through the snow again, and the tracks we left behind didn’t resemble snow angels so much as boulders. Within moments, Boone had me pinned to the snow, his body hot on mine, his hands against mine.

“Do you give?” he asked and without waiting for an answer, rolled so that he lay beside me instead.

I caught my breath, staring upward at the lengths of the pine trees spearing up into the sky. It was amazing—even though every bough was iced with snowy frosting, the weight of that snow didn’t force the branches down.

Cold encompassed the back of my head and neck, but I rested my hands on my chest and took in the view. And wondered what was going through Boone’s mind at that moment. He’d said he was trying to keep his distance from me. But what was that comment about wanting to warm me up again?

I couldn’t go there.

He was right—today was Christmas Eve, and I was leaving as soon as the pass opened. I had to arrange a new flight and would be on the next available one, back to a world of heated desert air and confined work conditions.

It was better not to explore the prospect of anything with him again.

I rose to my knees and brushed my once-again wet gloves over my jeans. “Snow is literally seeping into my clothes,” I said.

“It does that.”

I punched his arm. “Then why did you tackle me and force it down my shirt?”

Boone’s smile could stop traffic. He pushed himself to his elbows. “You were going on and on about how much you loved it. I wanted to see if you loved it once you saw its bad side.”

I brushed away more snow, trying to figure out the best place to put my hands to stand. Probably somewhere I’d already matted down instead of a fresh spot.

“You’re impossible.”

He shrugged. “I am on the naughty list, remember?”

“You are now. And you’re especially on mine.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Am I? I’d hate to give you the impression that I’m good all the time.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not all the time. Where’s the fun in that?” He winked at me and offered me a hand.

I took it, but a spark of mischief seeped into me under his touch.

Instead of letting him help me to my feet, I yanked him hard, forcing him to crash down beside me instead.

He landed closer to me than I’d anticipated. Our coats made a swishing sound at the impact.

“What was that?” he demanded with half incredulity and half delight.

I attempted an innocent look. “I never said I was on the nice list.”

“I’ll show you the nice list,” he grumbled, bowling into me again.

I laughed, trying for all I was worth to get him back and stuff snow down the back of his shirt. But he was too swift. He threw his weight and captured my arms, pinning me to the cold ground.

His legs tangled with mine, and despite the cold, his body sent a wave of heat into my chest. And under the directness of his espresso eyes, and the flash of desire stilling his expression as our gazes caught, I was a willing captive.

“I was wrong,” he said.

“About what?”

“I shouldn’t take you back. I should keep you here with me.”

He dipped his nose toward my throat. The touch of his skin against mine was cool enough that steam could have hissed from the impact, yet it spread through me like a dip into a hot tub.

My eyelashes fluttered. It took far too much effort to give a coherent response when all I wanted was to go where he was going.

“I believe that’s called kidnapping,” I said, my voice airy.

His lips skimmed across my jaw. “Not if you wanted to stay, too. Didn’t you say you wanted to stay?”

I was at a loss for words. He pulled back, taking me with him, helping me sit up again.

And he watched me as if his existence hung on what my answer would be.

I pictured the offer he presented. Dusting off the snow, heading back inside his cottage. Basking near the fire and cocooning ourselves on the couch just like we did last night. Keeping one another warm.

It would probably involve more kissing.

The prospect was heady. I wasn’t sure I could handle that much of him—and not only that.

It was the aftermath I wasn’t sure I could manage.

Having had the moments we’d already shared was already making it hard enough to leave. If I had more time with him? That would make it impossible.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I said, exhaling and watching my breath puff in the cold air before fading. “You’re right. I’m leaving. We need to let this…whatever it is…go.”

The hope in Boone’s face faded, his features settling into resignation. He removed his snowy glove and skimmed my jaw with surprisingly warm fingers. The touch made me want to take it all back. To snatch his hand and lead him back inside after all.

“Can I kiss you again, Grace?” he asked.

Yes , my thoughts screamed. My eyes flicked to his mouth, and my heart rapped like a hammer as he guided my face to his.

His lips were cold, and yet this snow kiss was my favorite that we’d shared so far. It tasted like sunshine and secret things and the slightest tinge of desperation.

I got the sense of how light felt when it passed through an icicle at just the right angle, how it refracted and broke into a thousand beams of color. His kiss made me feel like that beam—brought to life and made so much more than I could be on my own.

And then, just like that, the colors faded.

Coldness returned as he pulled away, and I knew in that moment. I couldn’t keep him. Much as I wanted, this could never be what we both wanted it to be.

I had a plane to catch.