The Christmas Romance Wish (Love, Laughs & Mystery in Coco Key #5)

6. Emmie

Emmie

CHAPTER 6

The next morning, I follow the path to the main house and spot over a dozen footprints in the snow leading toward the woods.

I meant to see the guys off on their Wild Warriors Winter hike. But it was so cozy in the cabin, I overslept. In fact, it was the best sleep I’ve had in recent memory. I could probably manage a major hike today if I had the proper boots and met the fitness requirements.

Then again, at the thought of being that cold, I shiver. I spot the flannel shirt Alex had on yesterday at the other end of the sofa. It’s closer to me than the throw blanket, draped over a nearby chair, so I wrap it around my shoulders.

Enveloped in his woodsy scent, I’m confident I made the right decision not to join the guys. This leaves me with plenty of time to get some work done by the fire.

I try to review the intro to the book, but it carries my thoughts off the page.

When Alex told me about his days in SEAL teams, I conjured an action movie hero in my mind like Captain America. However, in real life, Alex is better, grittier, and would totally do his own stunts .

One of the bah humbugs blinks open an eye. I growl, warning it to go back to sleep.

Even after hearing Alex’s voice all these months, I couldn’t have connected it with his face, his smile, the dimple!

Another one of the bah humbugs rustles. My eyebrow lifts sharply in warning.

In the house last night, I checked out some photographs on the bookshelf from when Alex was younger. He was hot then and he’s handsome now.

The bah humbugs flap their wings as if preparing for takeoff.

The only difference is the tiniest bit of gray grows around his temples. I could probably count the pieces in his thick brown hair.

...And I’m already counting down the hours until we have to part ways.

I try and fail to focus on Alex’s story. My thoughts repeatedly circle back to him. I hear his voice in my mind relaying his experiences. My skin hums with excitement I shouldn’t have felt when our hands brushed. The scent of his flannel isn’t helping at all.

I shift gears and open a new document. No sooner do I complete a chapter in the fictional romance I spontaneously start writing about unrequited love—when I should be penning the historical account of my ancestors that my grandfather asked me to write or reviewing Alex’s biography—do I hear the rise and fall of voices.

The guys are back. They’re boisterous like my brothers, and I catch comments about the hike, spotting animal tracks, scat, and evidence of deer and moose.

Pax’s voice, louder than the others, adds, “Don’t forget Bigfoot.”

“I’d argue it was a Yeti. That’s a sign of a storm coming soon. Mark my words.” I recognize Jesse’s voice.

From behind me, Alex says, “Don’t listen to their tall tales.” His voice I’d know anywhere, even in my dreams.

The bah humbugs that had been peacefully snoozing by the cozy fire now flutter around, bouncing off the walls of my stomach.

I half expected Ginny to show up sometime today with cookies and cocoa, but I’ve had the house all to myself. I discretely shrug out of Alex’s flannel shirt.

Was I tempted to poke around and take a peek in his drawers and closets like the sneaky little sister I am? Yes, but I’m not Alex’s sister as evidenced by the dream I had last night which I only remember now when he enters the doorway, kitted out in winter camo.

Be still my cold, cold heart.

In the dream, I was a queen in an ice castle, surrounded by a band of brave men assigned to defend my honor. One specific wild warrior fended away a foe that looked remarkably like Tad—pale from too much screen time. He emerged from the hoard, sword raised triumphantly, and then claimed me as his maiden. He dipped me back in a passionate kiss and proclaimed his undying love for me as an eagle cawed triumphantly in the background.

Then a car sped by with squid tentacles instead of tires, but that’s dreams for ya.

Perhaps I should try my hand at writing an epic fantasy romance.

However, this little escape has proved a good distraction from the holidays.

I’m not overly keen about spending time on Coco Key. Too many memories. But I am looking forward to seeing my brothers even if they try to get me to wear a bubble wrap suit...and even if being together is sometimes harder than I’d like because of the intense pain of loss experienced by our family.

From my spot on the sofa by the fire, I give Alex a smile and a little wave.

His expression brightens then just as quickly shuts down. He seems to scowl as if I’m suddenly not welcome. Maybe he’s annoyed that his most esteemed guest wasn’t a team player and didn’t join the hike, suffering in the cold along with him and the squad.

Does he notice his flannel, rumpled by my side? When he’s getting a glass out of the cabinet, I toss it away.

Is he aware that I didn’t work much today but let my imagination play?

Leaning against the counter, he guzzles the water in one long glug. His hands are large around the glass. His form fit and lean. His hair a little wild.

A sigh escapes as the fire crackles and pops.

Why did I decide not to hike? For several reasons.

Problem one: I don’t have any gear. Maybe Ginny didn’t want to share hers.

Problem two: These guys are built like human tanks with muscles practically coming out their eyeballs and I’m the opposite.

Problem three: I’ve fallen for the guy they call Lexman, so the less time we spend together is probably better, given the Ginny situation.

Hopefully, pink plastic flamingos don’t spontaneously appear on the lawn the way they would in Coco Key and expose me for accidentally falling in love with my co-writer.

The other guys are in the basement and must be taking off their hiking gear because their boisterous voices carry from downstairs. Alex fills a pitcher with ice and water for everyone.

“How’d it go?” I ask.

Alex sets the glass down and grumbles about something that I can’t hear over the running water in the sink. Maybe I missed the memo that I was supposed to don the Carnitas Cowboy’s chef’s hat and prepare dinner.

Or maybe I need a dose of reality and the reminder that romance and dreams are make-believe. Even though I mostly write nonfiction, my imagination easily gets carried away to fantasy land.

But like Santa in his sleigh, I get whisked away when Alex removes his thermal in that over-the-shoulder enticing way guys do, revealing taut abs and tattoos before tugging down the T-shirt he has on underneath.

The story I should write is more along the lines of Once upon a time, Alex and Ginny were merrily dating, engaged, or married ... Finding me here instead of her is a huge disappointment after an exhausting hike out hunting and gathering material for wreaths. They’d get their happily ever after, riding in a chariot off into the sunset while I remain in my brother’s penthouse tower penning and pining over unrequited love.

Just then, my phone rings. It’s Dylann.

I answer while gathering my things. With another little wave, I scurry outside to my cabin.

“Doodles, I need a full day two report.”

“I remained in civilization. Sort of. Didn’t go on the hike.”

“What do you mean? You skipped out on valuable time spent with Captain America? What’s Ginny like? Is she Miss America? Or is she a mountain cave troll? Please tell me she’s green and covered with warts.”

“No. There hasn’t been any sign of Ginny.”

“I rest my case.”

“The squadron of men hiked all day and just got back?—”

“You do realize, had you gotten tired, any of them would’ve happily carried you. That’s how mountain men are, you know.”

“What do you know about mountain men? You’re engaged to a guy in IT. When was the last time Jacob saw a mountain?”

“When we went to Disney after our engagement. We saw Magic Mountain.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“I’m just saying, you’re an island girl. Tough as nails. Just replace the sand with snow.”

“It’s not the same.”

Dylann makes a clicking sound with her tongue like I’m insufferable. “Well, I want the scoop. Give me the Captain Crush deets.”

“Are you trying to torture me or live vicariously through me?”

“What? Ew. No. I’m in love with Jacob. As you know, after we get married, we’re moving to the ‘burbs and I don’t want to worry about my bestie languishing alone in your brother’s lavish and lonely penthouse apartment.”

“That’s sweet. I guess. But I don’t mind being alone.”

“It’s good to enjoy your own company, but humans are social creatures. We’re meant to be together.”

“What if being social is hard?”

“Let’s role-play and practice with skits like we used to in the dorm.”

Dylann and I used to make up scenarios we might encounter with guys and work through them so we didn’t get flustered. It worked for her. Me, not so much.

“Actually, Alex’s crew are like my brothers. They’re easy to get along with.”

“But not Alex?”

“I don’t have little sister feelings for him,” I admit, at last. “And if you saw this place, you’d see why Captain America never would want to leave. Me neither. It’s perfect. And so is his voice. It’s deep and purposeful, relaxed yet commanding.” I realize now that I’m reclined on my stomach, feet swinging in the air. Instead of twirling the phone cord, I’m twisting a loose piece of hair around my finger...and I said all that out loud.

“So, you admit it! Crush Pose. I called it!” Dylann is far too self-satisfied for her own good and I imagine her doing a victory dance around our apartment.

“Yes. Fine. I’ve had a crush on him for a long time, I guess. But in addition to the Ginny problem, I’m confused. He was friendly at first. Almost flirty. Then he gradually withdrew and seemed to keep his distance, especially earlier when he got back from the hike.”

“Well, he’s been working all weekend, conducting the workshop, right? ”

“Fair point.” I tell her about how Paxton said I was Alex’s most esteemed guest.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Go up there and charm the chill out of him.”

“When I saw him a few minutes ago, he just grumbled. Hardly said a word.”

“There’s probably an explanation. Listen, if you do one thing for me and one thing only?—”

“Dylann, every time I pick up a peppermint mocha, I bring you back the baked good of the day. And I switch your days-old wet clothes to the dryer. And clean your cereal bowl. Also, I feed the imaginary cat—” Long story short, we wanted a pair of kittens, went back and forth with the landlord who said no, so we “adopted” Sheldon and Valentina. They’ll move to the penthouse with me. Dylann insisted.

“I know, I know. But I’m talking about doing this one thing for me in your love life.”

“Last I checked, I don’t have one of those and why would I do something for you in my non-existent love life?”

“Semantics and details. Anyway, it’s just this one thing. Listen carefully, do not have a BM.”

I gasp. “What?!”

“You heard me. Don’t, under any circumstances, have a BM.”

“Um, we share all kinds of things: clothes, dishware, once I used your toothbrush. But I will not be discussing that with you or anyone.”

“I don’t mean that kind of BM. I’m talking about a B-big M-misunderstanding.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“One, find out if there is a Ginny or if Alex is single. Two, ask him how he’s doing. Sometimes people just assume big tough guys are alright. Maybe being with his buddies brought up some stuff from his military days. I don’t know much about veterans of valor, but I’m guessing he’s seen and experienced things .”

“He sure has.” Taking a deep breath, she’s right. “So much in life can be avoided if people use their communication skills. No BMs.”

“Maybe don’t use that abbreviation with Captain America of the smokin’ hot voice.”

“We shall strike it from the record and never repeat it.”

With warm laughter, Dylann and I get off the phone.

Around dinner time, I bundle up, preparing to go to the main house to help with the wreaths, but when I get outside, a bonfire blazes in the backyard and the guys gather around. I join their circle as they warm their hands and chat.

Paxton slides his arm around my shoulder. “Welcome, Your Majesty. Might I invite you to enjoy some pizza?” He gestures toward a table behind Alex who captures my gaze. His eyes flame and flare as Pax gloats about how well he handled the hike.

He doesn’t even make it halfway up the hill in his recounting of the ruck when Alex appears next to us like a ninja from the darkness.

“Hey, Emmie.” His tone is low, almost irritable.

“Ignore Alex’s killjoy mood. Something crawled up his?—”

I wave my hands. “We vowed not to have BMs. I mean we won’t talk about BMs. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. You saw me on the couch. I hardly moved except to put logs on the fire and make a peppermint mocha. Thank you for the supplies by the way.”

They both stare at me. Paxton has laughter all over his face. Alex looks concerned but grunts in acknowledgment at the part about the peppermint mocha.

“I mean, no big misunderstandings. B-big, M-misunderstandings. I stayed in the house all day, working. Mostly. I mean, I did some creative writing too. Gazed out the window. Imagined what it would be like to live up here.”

“Sounds like a productive day,” Pax says with another laugh.

I squish up my face which is getting redder by the moment. “I’m going to plunge myself into that snowbank over there. See you guys in the morning. ”

Swiping a piece of pizza, I do just that. Well, not the snowbank part. I return to my cabin and hide there until morning. My busy brain rehashes every word spoken. Every syllable. Every movement and sound.

My findings result in a plan to avoid socializing for the foreseeable future and I’ll find a car service that will come out here and bring me to the airport in the morning to avoid further embarrassment in front of Alex.

The rise and fall of voices fade and I realize most of the guys leave that night. I guess they finished the wreaths, and no one had to do pushups in the snow. I hope and pray that things won’t be more awkward tomorrow than I made them today.

It’s no wonder I’m single.

When I wake up, sunlight streams through the window of the cabin and I have one of those fairy tale princess moments with the birds chirping and everything sparkling. I could stay here, snug and cozy until the spring thaw because I have serious second thoughts about leaving. Not only because of how lovely it is here but also because of how badly I embarrassed myself last night with the whole BM thing.

Maybe Alex will forget I’m in the cabin and I can sneak bread crusts and peppermint mochas when he’s not looking.

Considering Dylann and I agreed not to speak of BMs and because, as a writer, I should have better command over the English language, it could have been avoided.

I bet Ginny never says things about BMs or anything related to big misunderstandings.

My flight leaves at half-past eleven so I look up how to get to the airport, but my service bars drop from four to zero before my eyes. Originally, I was to return to Salt Lake City with Sydney, but since he didn’t make it out for the workshop, Alex said he’d bring me .

If this weekend were a book, the summary would go something like this:

After proving that she’s hopelessly awkward and has a better way with written words than spoken, she resigns herself to riding on the roof of the Jeep to spare the hunky, hulky hero from greater embarrassment and annoyance.

On the way to the airport, snowflakes drift from the sky and clouds move rapidly toward the sun. She rethinks her life choices and longs to find a mountain man of her own. The one who crept into her heart is taken.

Will she get her Christmas romance wish and find love or remain alone on a desert island?

Giving my head a little shake, I finish getting ready and pack up my belongings. After I make the short trek to the main house, I find Alex brewing coffee.

When he turns around, my breath falters. My skin tingles and not from the cold on my quick walk over here. The bah humbugs rush to the window as if they heard Santa’s sleigh bells.

And what to my wondering eyes appears?

Under that stubble, Alex was hiding a strong jawline. He shaved and he’s like an entirely different person. Well, not really, but he has full, masculine lips and his dimple is more prominent.

Every second spent with Alex is like being stabbed with icicle daggers because he’s taken. Dramatic, I know.

We exchange pleasantries and flustered, I say, “Seasons fleetings. I mean greetings. I mean this weekend breezed by. Whew. So fast.” I risk short-circuiting and rambling, so I close my mouth.

“Hope everything was okay in the cabin,” Alex’s voice rises with a note of concern.

“It was heating. Hot. You’re hot. I mean I am.” I hide behind my scarf. “I’m fine. Nothing to see here.”

Just lock me up in the penthouse tower now. I’m not good at this. Granted, the banter with Pax was fine last night, but I’m not attracted to him. He’s exactly like Ryan except in his looks, like a brother .

If Alex is anything like my brothers—at this point, I’m prepared for him to think of me as a little sister, considering the whole BM thing—I brace myself for teasing.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, with a dimpled smile, he asks, “Want to meet Ginny before you leave?”

No, I do not. But this time, I’m able to control myself. Instead of telling Alex how I feel, I say a simple, “Sure.” My attempt at being mature sounds strangled, like Santa getting stuck in the chimney with a belly full of cookies.

“Bundle up. Looks like the weather is turning. The temp dropped overnight.” He passes me a travel mug.

Our fingers brush as they did when he took my suitcase. The bah humbugs wake up. They’re so lazy, sleeping in until now. Sheesh. But they may as well go back to sleep. I take a sip of the coffee and jolt at the flavor.

“You made me a peppermint mocha?”

There goes Alex’s dimple, teasing me with what I can’t have.

We both slouch into our jackets and head outside. Armed with my trusty beverage, I am prepared for anything.

Including meeting my crush’s girlfriend.