Читать книгу A Copper Ridge Christmas - Maisey Yates - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D TEXTED RYAN a little over an hour ago and he still hadn’t responded. Fortunately, she’d gotten quite a bit of work done sitting in The Grind, the local coffee house. She also drank too much coffee and ate too many biscottis, but really, what was too many biscottis? Cassie Caldwell, the owner of the shop and baker extraordinaire, had made cranberry, white chocolate, and gingerbread in honor of the season, so, really, Holly had been obligated to sample them all.

An eggnog latte had also been a must in the spirit of the season.

Cassie was expecting her first child any day now with her husband Jake, and Holly felt that meant her work needed to be doubly honored, considering.

Holly looked out the window at the encroaching darkness. The shop windows outside were lit up, full Christmas displays adding warmth to the chilly evening.

She looked down at her phone, which was still dark, the inactivity beginning to stress her out. She was starting to wonder if Ryan had only agreed to help her with the party to get her off his boat last night, and now that he had routed her out of his domain, he had no reason to play along.

She looked morosely at her phone, which was still resolutely not receiving a return text.

Ryan should be off the water by now. Which meant he was just ignoring her.

She frowned and took another sip of her latte. She could do this without him. She planned parties for a living, after all. So what if he’d been the person she should have been able to count on most to want to give back to the Traverses? So what if she was busy? Where Margie and Dan were concerned, nothing was too difficult.

And if she just wanted to spend a little bit of time with Ryan because it reminded her of Christmases past, well, she would just have to get over it. Because it didn’t matter. And anyway, he was a lot meaner now than he used to be. She hardly even liked him. She just liked the way he filled out a sweater, that was all. An entirely different thing than liking his personality.

The door to The Grind opened and she turned to look, her breath catching and becoming a lump in her throat when she realized it was Ryan.

He was a bit more cleaned up than he’d been last night. No beanie, his dark hair pushed off his forehead as though he’d been running his fingers through it. He was wearing a black wool coat and tan corduroy pants, a tight, gray T-shirt conforming to his hard torso.

At least, she was assuming it was hard. It looked hard. She’d never actually touched his stomach, or his chest, though she had thought about it. In fact, she was thinking about it now.

Smiling, she waved from her position at the table and got nothing more than an arched brow and one corner of his lips turned slightly upward in return. He walked to the counter and she sat there, watching, taking a moment to get an eyeful of his physique.

Then she realized the long-distance ogling was probably a little bit weird and stood, leaving her laptop sitting on the table and making her way across the coffee shop to the counter. One of the many perks of living in a small town was that she didn’t have to worry about leaving her things unattended to stand next to the man she should see as nothing more than a surrogate older brother so that she wasn’t leering at him from across the room.

“You came,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would. Seeing as you didn’t return my text.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t tell you I wasn’t coming.”

Just then, Cassie came out from the kitchen, brushing her hands on a flour-covered apron over her rounded stomach. “Hi,” she said, by way of greeting to them both. “More biscotti, Holly?”

Ryan shot her a look that clearly asked How many did you eat? Holly ignored him.

“No, thanks,” she told Cassie. “I think I ate enough for it to count as lunch, dinner, and dessert.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Cassie replied cheerfully.

“I’ll have a biscotti,” Ryan said.

“What kind would you like?”

“Whichever is your favorite, and a large black coffee.”

Cassie smiled. “You got it. Go ahead and have a seat.”

Ryan actually smiled back, and Holly was so stunned for a moment she forgot to breathe.

He started to walk back toward her table, and she followed. “So,” she said, “you are capable of basic friendliness.”

“Yes,” he said. “I can also use silverware and operate basic machinery.”

“It’s just that you don’t smile very much these days. At least not at me.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you ever think maybe it’s because you’re a pain in the ass?”

She thinned her lips into a flat line and shot him her most evil look. “How would I have time to stop and notice? You’re so busy being a pain in mine.”

“What did I do to you? I was just on my boat, minding my own business. You came in with cheeseburgers and dire commentary on my living situation and general countenance. Face it, Holly, you aren’t very nice to me.”

A wave of irritation and guilt washed over her, leaving her saturated in both. He wasn’t wrong. She was a little bit critical of his life choices. The most recent example being the comments she’d made about his boat. But honestly, she just thought he deserved better and should get better. So sue her. Still. She felt a little bit bad. She cleared her throat and offered a conciliatory smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t mock you.”

He leaned back in his chair, a lopsided smile on his face. “Oh, by all means, mock me. If you were to stop mocking me, I would start to feel like I was your emotional charity case. That’s worse than being tormented.”

“I’m not tormenting you.”

“You’re tormenting me with Christmas. My headstone will read death by figgy pudding.”

“I’m not going to feed you figgy pudding. I don’t even know what it is.”

“Okay, so if we aren’t going to have traditional British desserts, what exactly are we doing?”

She lifted her shoulder, suddenly feeling a little bit shy for some reason. This meant a lot to her and even discussing just how emotionally tied into this she was felt revealing. She’d spent her first Christmas with the Traverses when she was thirteen, and every Christmas thereafter. As the holiday season had started approaching this year, the thought of missing out had filled her with anxiety.

A deep, biting anxiety that she hadn’t experienced in years. A sense of invisibility. Of the world, and all the people in it, passing her by as she faded into vapor. Starving for food, for physical affection.

She had been invisible in her house growing up. But never once in the Traverses’ house. It was always so full of laughter, happiness, and warmth. Margie had always kept a pot of spices on the stove, for no reason other than to make the house smell wonderful. She had a hug for everyone who came through the door, and questions about their day, about their lives.

In their house, for the first time, Holly had felt like she existed.

They had thrown the most wonderful Christmas party for the community every year since then. Except for this year. And...

And for some reason the idea of a Christmas without them sent her straight back to the place she’d been in before they’d become her surrogate family. So, she’d come up with the idea for the Christmas party. But she didn’t exactly want to get into all of that with Ryan.

She knew he had his own reasons for caring for Dan and Margie. She also knew he wouldn’t exactly want to spill his guts to her and have a heart-to-heart. They had too many of their own issues to take each other’s on.

“Margie always made such a wonderful dinner. She had the best decorations. The best games,” she said.

“If you’re remembering her games as being fun, I’m going to say you’re romanticizing a bit. What do you need from me besides the heavy lifting?”

“Well, I made a list of people who normally attend the party, a list of the food that I remember, and a few other details.” She pushed her notebook toward him. “Tell me if you think I’ve missed anything.”

“I remember alcoholic beverages and demolishing an entire tray of pigs in a blanket. But those are my memories of Margie’s parties—the later years. The white elephant gift exchanges I don’t have a lot of fondness for.”

“Are you going to be this intentionally unpleasant the entire time?”

He shrugged. “It’s kind of my thing.”

“Right. Well...why? I don’t get it, Ryan. I mean, I know life is hard,” she said, skating perilously close to subjects neither of them wanted to delve in to, “but we’ve come out of it pretty good. Don’t you want to enjoy that a little bit?”

“Do you know what I enjoy? Freedom. The freedom to walk around frowning and stomping if I want. To go out onto the ocean for as long as I want. I don’t have to answer to anyone. And I don’t have to suffer anyone’s wrath. Hell, at this point if my old man tried to raise a fist to me? I could just kick his ass.”

Holly looked down into her empty coffee cup. She’d suspected as much about Ryan’s past. About his father. But they’d never talked about it. He said it now lightly, like it didn’t matter. But she knew it did.

“I don’t have to perform anymore,” he continued. “So, I don’t. I spent twelve years walking on eggshells, and then a few more until I was sure I wouldn’t get sent back. I like not doing it.”

She studied his face and evaluated the lines around his mouth, his eyes, across his forehead, differently than she had before. Lines he’d won the right to after he’d gotten out from under his father’s thumb.

“I was just invisible,” she said, feeling the need to trade with him now. He’d shared with her, and she got the feeling he hadn’t really meant to. She wanted to level the field. “So nobody cared what I did.”

They’d cared once. Before it had all faded away. Before her mother had realized her little red-headed daughter wouldn’t keep her husband from sleeping with other women or disappearing for days at a time. Before she’d realized Holly wasn’t a Band-Aid.

Before Holly had betrayed her in the worst way possible.

She looked up and caught Ryan’s eye and her heart stopped for a moment. His expression was intense, focused. “I can see you just fine,” he said, his voice rough.

She wanted to touch him. Wanted to do something to extend the connection between them. She wanted—

Just then, Cassie came over and set Ryan’s coffee and biscotti on the table before quickly walking away, obviously not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

Ryan picked up the biscotti first, and the moment of tension between them was gone. “I called Margie a couple of hours ago.”

“About?”

“Arrangements for picking her and Dan up at the airport. And to ask her a favor.”

She pushed the plate that had once held her biscotti back, then pulled it forward, looking for something, anything to do with her nervous energy. “What kind of favor?”

“Not a huge one. But you wanted this party to be a tribute to a Margie Travers party, and...when I think of her parties, I think of the village. The little snowy village she put on the mantels. And her garlands, with the shiny ribbon and the little berries in them.”

Holly nodded. “Me too.”

“So I asked her if she minded if I went and borrowed some of her decorations. She said it was fine, and she didn’t even give me the third degree, though I have a feeling she’s decided I want to impress a woman, even though I would never use Christmas decorations to impress a woman.”

Holly wrinkled her nose, not particularly wanting to imagine what Ryan did with women. Ever. “What would you use?” She couldn’t hold back the question. Apparently, something inside her was masochistic.

“My boat.”

“No way.”

“Women like my boat.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not me.”

“I guess that’s why you didn’t make a pass at me when you came aboard yesterday.”

Her whole face felt hot and she looked down, desperate for a focal point that wasn’t his face. “Among the many other reasons. Anyway, thank you for talking to Margie, but I can use the decorations I have. I don’t have a key to their house. And I would feel funny about going in by myself.”

“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 most 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.”