Читать книгу Rescued by the Magic Of Christmas - Melissa McClone, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 7

CHAPTER ONE

AS SNOW FLURRIES fell from the gray sky, Carly Bishop stared at the charming log house surrounded by towering fir trees and decorated with strands of white icicle lights. A lopsided four-foot-tall snowman, complete with carrot nose, stood in the front yard. A single electric candle shone through a wood-paned window, the flickering flame-shaped bulb a welcoming light.

Carly walked along the snow-dusted path, dragging her wheeled suitcase behind her. A few feet from the porch she noticed a green wreath tied with a red velvet bow hanging from a brass holder on the front door. The scent of pine was sharp in the air. The same way it had been…

Her breath caught in her throat.

The house, the wreath, the candle, the snowman. It was as if time had stopped, as if the last six years had simply been a bad dream. Any second, Carly expected Nick to fling open the front door wearing a Santa hat, and greet her with a jolly ho-ho-ho. And Iain…

Iain.

She closed her eyes, fighting an onslaught of unwelcome memories.

I can’t believe you’re going climbing two days before our wedding. Why don’t you just admit it, Iain? You love climbing more than you love me.

She’d wanted to forget. The argument and tears before and as he’d left to climb. The thoughts about his selfish behavior while he’d been climbing and dying. The grief and guilt after his body and Nick’s had been found.

Carly thought she had forgotten. Put the past behind her. Moved on. She forced herself to breathe.

Coming back had been a mistake.

She should have stayed in Philadelphia, where she’d made a new life for herself, far away from the shadow of Mount Hood and all the mountain had stolen from her. If only staying away had been an option, but her brother’s widow, Hannah, was expecting a new baby and needed help with her two children.

So here Carly was. Ready to be an aunt extraordinaire for her niece and nephew. For better or, most likely, worse.

Two weeks. All she had to do was survive the next two weeks, including December twenty-fourth, the twenty-fifth and New Year’s Eve. How hard could that be? Given she hadn’t celebrated the holidays in years, she didn’t want to know the answer.

Carly tightened her grip on the suitcase handle and climbed the steps to the front porch. With a tentative hand, she reached for the doorknob then remembered this was no longer her brother’s house. She pressed the doorbell and waited.

The doorknob jiggled.

Straightening, Carly forced a smile. Years of working with customers had taught her how to put on a happy face no matter how she felt inside.

The door cracked open.

“Welcome back, Carly,” a male voice greeted her warmly.

She expected to see Hannah’s husband of two years, Garrett Willingham, but the man standing in the doorway looked nothing like the clean-cut, non-risk-taking, business-suit-wearing certified public accountant. This guy was too rugged, too fit, too…familiar.

“Jacob Porter.” Over six feet tall with brown hair that fell past his collar, he still had piercing blue eyes, a killer smile and a hot, hard body that had made the girls, herself included, swoon back in high school. But those things had only been made better with age. Her pulse kicked up a notch. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” His grin widened, the same way it had whenever he and Nick teased her about something. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry…” Simply thinking the word left a bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Seasons greetings. Where’s Hannah?”

“At a doctor’s appointment,” Jacob explained. “Garrett drove her. She didn’t know if they’d be home before you arrived or the school bus dropped Kendall and Austin off so they asked me to come over.”

Carly noticed Jacob’s clothes—a light blue button-down oxford shirt, khaki pants and brown leather shoes. A bit more stylish than the T-shirts, jeans or shorts and sneakers she remembered him wearing. He must have been at work.

“Thank you.” Though she wasn’t surprised. Jacob had always gone out of his way for them, a surrogate everything to what remained of the Bishop family. He’d found her the job in Philadelphia. He’d taught Nick’s two kids to ski and fish. He’d even introduced Hannah to Garrett.

“Hurry inside before you get too cold.” Jacob reached for Carly’s suitcase. His hand—big, calloused and warm—brushed hers. The accidental contact startled her, and she jerked her hand away. “You city girls aren’t used to the temperatures up here.”

Forget the cold. She wasn’t used to her response to his touch. Carly couldn’t remember the last time a man had had that effect on her. “It gets cold in Philadelphia, too.”

As she stepped into the house, heat surrounded her, cocooning her with the inviting comforts of home. She glanced around, noticing all the nice homey touches. Ones missing from her apartment.

“You look the same,” he said.

He looked better. She glanced around. “So does this place.”

And that somehow made everything…worse.

A fire blazed and crackled in the fireplace. The way it had that horrible, dark Christmas morning when a teary-eyed Hannah had told the kids to unwrap their gifts from Santa.

Carly wanted to close her eyes, to shut off the video of years gone by streaming through her mind, but the fresh evergreen scent, the twinkling multicolored lights and the ornament-laden branches wouldn’t let her.

The popcorn-and-cranberry-strung garland, keepsake decorations marking special occasions, and silver bells and gold balls all reminded Carly of the rush to take the tree down before Nick’s funeral. Hoping to protect the children, Hannah hadn’t wanted the event to be associated with Christmas in any way. Her efforts seemed to have worked, but Carly couldn’t think of one without the other.

The door closed. The sound made her glance back.

Jacob stared at her, an unrecognizable emotion in his eyes.

She remembered the time, during an argument with Iain, she’d turned to Jacob for advice. There’d been a moment when she thought he might kiss her. He’d been looking at her then the same way as now.

Her temperature rose—the combo of forced-air heating and fireplace, no doubt—and she shrugged off her jacket.

“I’ll take that.” He hung her coat on the rack by the door. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too.” And she meant that. Funny, but seeing him hadn’t brought back any bad memories. That surprised her. “How are things at the Wy’East Brewing Company?”

“Good.”

Jacob’s family owned and operated a microbrewery and pub in the alpine-inspired touristy Hood Hamlet, a small town set high on Mount Hood, fueled year-round by outdoor enthusiasts. Nick had worked there. Iain and Carly, too.

That seemed like another life. Who was she kidding? It had been another life.

“Hannah told me things are going well in Philadelphia,” Jacob said.

“They are. Didn’t you get my last e-mail?” Carly tried to keep in touch with him. Not daily, but an e-mail or two a month.

“I did. She mentioned you had a boyfriend.”

“Wishful thinking on her part.” It wasn’t as if Carly hadn’t had any boyfriends over the last six years—okay, two—but both relationships had petered out. “I date, but I’m too busy with work for a serious relationship right now.”

“You’ve really moved your way up the ladder, Miss Brewpub Manager extraordinaire.”

“I have, haven’t I?” She loved managing the restaurant portion of Conquest Brewery, but Carly had never wanted to be one of those focused career types working megahours. She’d wanted to be a wife. Iain’s wife. Boy, had she been young, starry-eyed and idealistic back then. “But I still owe you for getting me that waitress job.”

“You don’t owe me anything—” Jacob winked “—but if I need an extra hand at the brewpub over the holidays, I’ll give you a call.”

“Deal.” Jacob might be even better-looking than before, but he was still the same inside. She found that…comforting, as well as the memories now surfacing. A smile tugged on her lips. “Do you remember when we would brainstorm names for your seasonal brews?”

“I remember.” He shook his head. “Especially the time you wanted to name everything after Macbeth.”

Carly grinned. “Hamlet.”

“Whatever.”

She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Hey, some of the names were quite clever, and considering your brewery is located in a hamlet—”

“Yeah, like the guys buying the beer have a clue what a hamlet is.”

“Maybe not the exact definition of a hamlet, I’ll give you that. But the words ‘brewed and bottled in Hood Hamlet’ are printed on every single bottle.”

Jacob raised a brow. “Nothing could justify naming a seasonal ale, and I quote, ‘To Beer or Not to Beer.’”

“That was a great name.” She searched her memory for the others. “Don’t forget Lady Doth Protest Porter, Mind’s Eye Amber, Less than Kind IPA, Soul of Wit Pale Ale. Instant classics. I’m telling you.”

“You can tell me all you want, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever use them.”

She drew her brows together. “Maybe I should give those names to the master brewer where I work.”

“Go for it, but that brewery isn’t located in a hamlet so you might have a hard sell on your hands.”

“Not if he recognizes genius at work.”

“More like plagiarizing at work.”

Carly laughed. Jacob’s teasing filled an empty space inside her she’d forgotten existed. She had friends—good friends—in Philadelphia, but none who had watched her grow up. Who knew the people who’d mattered most in her life. Who knew what she had been like before being thrown the ultimate curve-ball.

“So what brilliant name did you come up with for this year’s seasonal brew?” she asked.

Jacob’s eyes met hers. Softened. “Nick’s Winter Ale.”

The name hung in the air as if a cartoon dialogue bubble surrounded the three words. Carly swallowed around the snowball lump of emotion lodged in her throat. “The beer he came up with right before…?”

Her life had been divided into two parts—before and after the accident. Things had gotten better with the passage of time. She no longer felt the familiar sting each time she thought about Nick. That dreaded prickling sensation hadn’t brought a rush of unexpected tears in…years.

Jacob nodded once. “It’s a good brew. He worked hard on it. Seemed time to use the recipe.”

Nick had been so proud of the beer he’d created. He had been sure the brew would be the next year’s seasonal ale. It probably would have been. “That’s wonderful. Nick would be happy.”

“That’s what Hannah said. Your mom and dad, too.”

Carly’s parents had divorced after Nick’s death. Her father now lived in Oregon. Her mother lived in Scottsdale, Arizona. Both had remarried. “You’ve spoken to them?”

“Yes, they sounded pleased,” he answered. “Each asked for labels and a bottle.”

She wasn’t surprised. Nick had been the golden boy. No one, not Carly, their grandkids or each other, could fill the gap left in her parents’ hearts with his death.

“So do I get any?” Carly asked.

“I have a whole case for you. Labels, too. I’ll drop them off.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on—” Jacob motioned for her to follow “—the kids will be home soon. I need to fix them a snack.”

“Wait a minute. You’re going to fix them a snack?” The top of her head came to his chin. She looked up at him. “You guys always made me heat up the frozen pizzas and fix whatever else you wanted to eat.”

“Good practice for when you’re on your own,” he said.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been on my own for—” Six years. She swallowed a sigh.

Jacob didn’t appear to notice. “I meant with the kids. They’ll expect you to fix their snack for them. And when Hannah goes into the hospital to have the baby—”

“I can handle it.” Once upon a time, Carly had dreamed of having children of her own. But like her other dreams, that one seemed to have died on the mountain, too. So she made the most of whatever time she could get with her niece and nephew, meeting them wherever they spent their summer vacation. Anywhere except here in the Pacific Northwest. She hadn’t wanted to come back. “Spending time with Kendall and Austin will be great.”

His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and her heart bumped. “We’ll see how you feel in a few days.”

Forget a few days. Carly didn’t like how she felt right now. But that had nothing to do with her niece and nephew and everything to do with the man standing in front of her. Still, she was a survivor, and like everything else, she would get through this. She raised her chin. “It’ll be no problem at all.”

No problem. Yeah, right.

Jake had a big problem. Her name started with C and ended with Y. He grabbed a Granny Smith apple from the fruit bowl and placed it on the wood cutting board.

Maybe if he concentrated on fixing the kids’ snack he could forget how Carly’s turtleneck sweater hugged her breasts and the curve of her waist. How her well-worn jeans cupped her bottom like a second skin. How her blond hair, now shoulder length, would look spread out over a pillowcase or a man’s chest.

His chest.

It was all Jake could do not to stare. Hell, drool. He reached for a knife.

Damn, she looked good. Better than he remembered.

The cold temperatures outside brought a natural color to her cheeks. Thick lashes, ones she’d had since she was little, framed expressive hazel eyes, eyes that no longer held the optimistic promise of tomorrow, but hinted at new depths he hadn’t seen before. And those pink, full lips smiling up at him made him think about kisses. And the one time he should have kissed her, but had hesitated and lost her. Not that he needed kisses now. A taste of those glossed lips, simply a nibble, was all he really wanted, but that wouldn’t be a smart move.

Hell, it would be downright stupid.

As he sliced the apple, the knife hit the cutting board with a thud.

“Be careful.” Carly neatly placed cheese and crackers on a plate. “You don’t want to lose a finger.”

Right now, he was more worried about losing his heart. Dammit.

His heart was off-limits, especially to a woman who was the only person aside from his father to call him Jacob and had left town six years ago never to return until now. Okay, not exactly true. She hadn’t been gone six years. Five years, seven months and twenty-eight days, if he wanted to be exact. Not that he’d been counting.

Granted she’d had her reasons. Good reasons.

But that hadn’t made her leaving any easier. Which reminded him. She wasn’t here to stay. Hannah had said two weeks. Long enough to turn everyone’s life upside-down, including his. He wanted no part of it. No part of her.

Besides, she deserved better than him.

Jake cut another piece of apple.

“The cheese and crackers are ready.” She placed an artfully designed plate on the table. “What next?”

“Hot chocolate.” He handed her the kettle from the top of the stove.

She frowned. “Won’t the water be too hot?”

“If it is, we add ice cubes.”

“You’ve got this kid snack routine down.”

Jake put the apple slices and a small container of caramel sauce on a plate. “I help out when needed.”

She filled the kettle with water. “How often is that?”

Not nearly enough. He set the plate on the table. “Whenever Hannah or Garrett can’t be here.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

Jake was the lucky one.

A door slammed shut. Thuds of varying volumes echoed through the house. Voices sounded, yelled, screeched.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “The bus was early today.”

“So a herd of elk hasn’t just walked into the house?”

“Elk would be quieter.”

With a smile, Carly hurried out of the kitchen. Jake followed her, trying to ignore the sway of her hips. Maybe he needed to go out tonight. Between work and OMSAR activities, he hadn’t been dating much. A woman—make that a woman other than Carly—would get his mind right where it needed to be.

“Aunt Carly!” Seven-year-old Austin ran into her arms before she took three steps into the living room. “You’re here.”

“I told you she was here.” Kendall, nine years old, hugged Carly. “I saw a different car in the driveway.”

Carly held both of the kids tight as if she didn’t want to let go of them. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown since last summer.”

Austin beamed. His blond hair stuck up all over the place. “We’re big now.”

Carly laughed. “So big.”

“Mom asked us to stop growing,” Austin said. “But I told her that was impossible.”

Kendall rolled her eyes. “Mom was kidding.”

“Kidding or not, I understand why she said that.” Carly kissed the tops of the kids’ heads, staring at them with longing and love. “I wish you would stay little forever.”

Watching the three together brought a bittersweet feeling to Jake’s heart. The kids needed Carly. Not only when Hannah delivered the baby or when they went on vacations, but also on a regular basis, where they could share their lives and days with their father’s sister. With their aunt.

Carly stared at Austin. “You look so much like your daddy.”

A perplexed look crossed the young boy’s face. “Which daddy? The dead one or the one who’s alive?”

Kendall’s long sigh could have propelled all the windmills in eastern Oregon. She tucked a blond curl behind her ear. “Our first daddy, right, Aunt Carly?”

“That’s right.” Her voice cracked slightly.

Jake fought the urge to reach out to Carly. He knew that kick to the gut the first time he’d heard the kids call Garrett “daddy” all too well. Jake still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know if he would ever be, even though he liked the guy enough to introduce him to his best friend’s widow.

“Every time I see you, Austin, you look more and more like him,” Carly continued. “The two of you could be twins.”

“Even if they look the same—” Kendall tilted her chin “—Uncle Jake says I’m the one who’s more like him.”

“It’s true,” Jake said. Austin might look like a mini version of Nick, but Kendall had identical mannerisms and her father’s fearlessness. “You have the exact same personality.”

Which made it harder for Hannah and Garrett.

But easier for Jake.

“I noticed that when we were vacationing in Gettysburg,” Carly said.

Kendall grinned. “You have to see my room, Aunt Carly. It’s purple and blue and green. Uncle Jake bought me this cool, furry beanbag chair.”

Carly glanced his way. “Sounds comfy.”

“I have a space room.” Austin held on to her hand and bounced. “Uncle Jake put glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on the ceiling. He also bought me a spaceship light. It’s the coolest.”

“Sounds like Uncle Jacob’s been busy around here.”

He shrugged.

“You mean Uncle Jake, don’t you?” Kendall asked.

“Um, yes, your Uncle J-Jake,” Carly said, as if testing the name for the first time.

That was the first time he remembered her calling him Jake. He liked how his name sounded coming from her lips.

“I can’t wait to see both your rooms.” She sounded every bit the enthusiastic aunt, much to the kids’ delight. “But first you need to have your snack.”

“Snack!” The kids stampeded into the kitchen.

Carly glanced at Jake. “Forget elk, those two could give buffalos a run for their money.”

“You handled that well.”

She shrugged. “Not much else I can do.”

“No, there’s not, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Carly looked down at the hardwood floor. “They’re just kids. And life goes on.”

“Hannah does her best to keep Nick’s memory alive. So do I.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that. Nick would, too.” Carly noticed a picture of Garrett, Hannah and the two kids sitting on the mantel. “Still, it’s weird. I like Garrett. He’s a great guy who adores Hannah and loves the kids as if they were his own, but he’s so different from Nick.”

“Hannah didn’t want another Nick,” Jake admitted.

Emotion clouded Carly’s eyes. “I don’t blame her for that.”

“Come here.” Jake placed an arm around Carly in a half hug. She leaned against him.

So nice.

Having her in his arms brought back a rush of memories. The time he’d found her shivering and whistling for help when she’d gotten lost snowshoeing at the age of fourteen. As he’d hugged her, trying to warm her up, he’d realized she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Or the time she’d passed her driver’s test and wanted to show off her license. Not to mention her short skirt and skimpy top. She’d given him a quick hug, letting him know she was a young woman, but still off-limits.

This time she was simply Carly Bishop, a beautiful woman. A single woman.

Against his better judgment, Jake brought his other arm around her, embracing her fully. He pulled her closer. Her body pressed against his. Warm, soft, perfect. The scent of grapefruit—her shampoo?—surrounded him.

Oh, man. Standing here with her in his arms was a dream come true. And even though he’d long since buried those dreams, Jake didn’t want to let her go.

He brushed his lips across her forehead, offering what comfort he could.

Someone screeched.

Jake stepped back from Carly to see Austin staring wide-eyed and openmouthed.

Kendall bolted out of the kitchen. “What is going on?”

“Uncle Jake kissed Aunt Carly.” Austin’s grin lit up his face. “Now they have to get married.”