Harmony for Christmas (Dansboro Crossing #4)

Chapter 4

four

BEAU

I don’t have any chores that need to be done outside. I had to escape. It was either that, or I was in real danger of kissing her. She had me admitting to things that I’ve never told anyone, not even Travis. I’m positive he believes that all I want is an occasional lay, and they were great when I was younger. But, now I’m in my thirties, and I’d like something more.

I’m sure that Harmony sees me as rude, conceited, and overbearing. I, however, can see myself settling down with someone like her. No, not someone. Her.

Except, she’s a rising star in Nashville, and I’m not leaving the family ranch, so there’s no reason to start something. Now if I can just convince my body of that. Because, damn, it knows what it wants, and it’s her.

“Hey, boys,” I call to the horses stepping inside the barn. They’re tucked inside one of the open stalls for warmth. I shake out some grain and toss another hay bale into the manger while Reacher tries to eat a frozen piece of manure.

“You wouldn’t mind teaching a pretty girl how to ride would ya?” Neither of them answers. That’s okay, I’ve gotten used to their stony silence. Seems we’re alike in that way.

“Don’t guess either of y’all know where to get a Christmas tree around here?” They ignore me.

Grabbing the axe out of the corner, I hike out through calf-deep snow in hunt of some sort of tree. Reacher chases through a couple of possibilities peeing on them in turn. I guess not those.

I’m not caving into her demand. It’s just that she’s trapped here, and I’m trying to be a good host. That’s what I’m going to tell myself anyway. The fact I know her face will light up when I drag a Christmas tree inside has no bearing on it. Nope, no bearing at all. Just making a friend of my brother’s comfortable.

“How about this one?” I ask the dog. “And if you lift your leg anywhere near, I’m chopping it off instead of the tree.” He considers me for a second before moving on. I think it will be a suitable cedar tree. It’s the only thing still green out here. Hopefully she’s not allergic to them.

I chop it down and drag it through the snow back to the barn. With it propped up in the corner, I chop off some of the lower branches so it’ll sit inside a bucket. It should fit inside my living room without taking up too much room. As the sun starts to set, I hoist the tree on my shoulder and walk to the house.

“Hey, I got you something,” I announce when I open the front door. Some amazing aroma wafts through the air. My stomach rumbles in response. Reacher barks his approval.

“Is that a Christmas tree?” Harmony asks, rushing into the room. Her look of excitement is the very one I was aiming for when I chopped this bad boy down. She does some kind of little happy dance in front of me while clapping her hands. How could anyone not want to spend all their time in this woman’s orbit? Even if she does talk a lot.

“Here.” I hold the bucket out until she snatches it from my hands. I motion to a spot near the front windows and lower the tree into it. “Needs water.” She flits off into the kitchen and returns with the kettle full of tap water.

“I can’t believe you brought me a tree. And it’s a real one! It might be the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me,” she gushes. Why would chopping down a tree make the top of the list? “After supper, you can help me make garland and paper snowflakes for it.”

“What are we, in kindergarten?” When her face falls, I feel like an asshole. “I think I have some frozen cranberries we can defrost for the garland if you think they’ll work.”

She nods, but I can tell I’ve crushed her spirit again. I can fix this. “What is one thing you always wanted for Christmas but never got?” I follow her into the kitchen while she thinks.

“Other than a horse?” she asks.

“Other than a horse.”

“I guess it would be one of those karaoke machines with all of the neon lights.”

“Those are pretty cool. I always wanted a sled like you see people using in the movies. Mom used to watch Hallmark movies starting in November. She kept telling me that a sled only works in the snowy states.”

“You should go to one of the snowy states one Christmas. You could hire someone to watch the ranch.” Her smile has returned, so I guess I’m forgiven.

“Maybe.” She grows silent as she stirs something on the stove. I don’t like it. I know I complain when she talks nonstop, but it’s better than silence. I fight the urge to find out if she’s still mad at me.

I remember Mom complaining about Dad asking her that every time she wasn’t her usual chipper self. Harmony isn’t mine though. I don’t get to worry about her happiness. Do I? It seems like I should have to earn that right.

“What are you making? It smells amazing.”

“It’s an old southern recipe that I think you’re going to like.” Her smile brightens a little more, and my heart skips a beat. I’m sure it’s just from coming into the warmth from being outside. It couldn’t possibly be because I’m falling for this girl after one day. “You have a weirdly well-stocked pantry,” she adds.

“I visit Travis once a month and stock up.”

“Good thing. I think it’s snowing again.” She motions toward the front windows. Turning around, I find soft flakes falling in the last of the sunlight. I’ve never seen it snow like this, especially in December. “I’m sorry you’re trapped with me,” she says.

“I’m not trapped.”

“Ensnared?”

“Not that either.”

“Ambuscaded?”

“Now who’s been reading the dictionary?”

She throws back her head and laughs. When she spears me with her gaze again, her soft eyes dance with mirth.

Once again, I have to fight the urge to kiss her. It would be so easy to pull her into my arms and press my lips to her soft neck. But she has no means to escape me. I would be that letch taking advantage of her situation. I know my parents raised better sons than that.

“This needs to simmer for a while. How about we start on the tree while we’re waiting?” I would say the moment was broken by her change in conversation, but it’s not. As a matter of fact, I don’t know how I’ll survive until the snow melts. Everything she says simply pulls me closer. “I have an idea. Do you have any construction paper?”

“Umm.” I take a quick look around the kitchen. I haven’t seen construction paper in years. “Maybe. It would be left over from when Travis was still in school. We can look in the office.”

I lead the way through the mudroom into a small room where Dad kept his office. It’s mine now, but I don’t use it that often. The room is still filled with framed photos of us trapped in time before my parents passed.

“Your parents looked like movie stars,” Harmony says softly. I lift my head from the desk drawer I’m searching through to see what she’s looking at. It’s a photo from their wedding.

“Yeah, everyone said they looked like a fairy tale.”

“Is this you?” She’s pointing to another photo of me in a Little League uniform next to Dad.

“It is. I think I was in first grade. Travis wasn’t born yet.”

“Then neither was I.” She doesn’t need to remind me that I’m ten years older than her. It feels like there is a lifetime between us. Sometimes Travis and I feel the same way.

“Y’all are so cute.” She’s studying one from a Christmas when I must have been twelve and Travis was two. I was always tall for my age, so cute is not the word I’d use to describe my awkward pre-teen self.

“Found some,” I announce flopping an old pack of paper on the desk.

“I remember when your parents died. As an eight-year-old, I had no idea what to say to Travis. He was sad for so long.” I grow still. I thought I did a good job at picking up the pieces for my little brother. It bothers me, even after all these years, to think of him mourning their loss. It was natural for him to miss them, but it still breaks my heart. “It was a car accident, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. They were coming back from Austin. They weren’t sure if Dad tried to dodge a deer or fell asleep or what. The car rolled.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. Her gaze turns to me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I wish I had known what to say to Travis at the time. I truly am sorry.”

“Mmm,” I grunt. “It was a long time ago.” Taking the construction paper, I return to the kitchen table. It still hurts to talk about their accident. It’s easier just to forget. She follows me and adds some scissors and tape to the pile.

“I thought we could use the construction paper to make garland instead of popcorn and mushy cranberries.”

“That’s probably wise.” I breathe a sigh of relief when she lets the subject of my parents’ death go. There’s so much more to her than people realize. I imagine just having her around when it happened helped Travis, even if she didn’t know what to say.

She begins cutting the paper into strips while I tape the chains together. It’s not long before we have a multicolored chain of garland.

“What are we doing for lights?” she asks.

I turn to study the tree. Even if I still had our Christmas lights, they wouldn’t be working after all this time.

“I need to ride over to the neighbors and check on them tomorrow. I can see if they have any we can borrow. They’re both older, so I need to make sure they’re okay,” I answer. “You can come if you don’t mind riding one of the horses.”

“Really?” She claps her hands with glee. “My first official horseback ride.”

“You never rode a horse at summer camp growing up?”

“My parents couldn’t afford summer camp, and none of my friends had horses. It’s not like I could stay out here in high school to ride with Travis,” she points out.

“No, I guess not. He never enjoyed it anyway.”

“Yeah, so,” Harmony says, pushing up from the table. “I say we hang this on the tree.” She loops the garland around my neck several times before pulling me out of my chair.

“What about the lights?”

“It won’t be that big of a deal to weave them in if we get some tomorrow. I just can’t stand that naked tree even one more second.” I follow her into the living room with a smile. “We’ll work on making snowflakes for it next.” Unwrapping the garland from around my neck, she begins threading it through the limbs.

“What do you need for snowflakes?”

“Copy paper, scissors, and paperclips.”

“Okay.” I return to the office for more supplies. Taking a moment to look around the room, I decide it’s time to turn it back into a real office.

Maybe I should consider getting satellite internet so I can stay in touch with the world a little more. I could check my email more often than once every couple of weeks when I get around to it. The phone service would be reliable too. Not that I’m expecting a certain blond bombshell to keep in touch.

“Did you get lost?” that bombshell asks from the doorway.

“Mmm,” I grunt as I walk past her carrying the supplies she asked for. Returning to my seat, I focus on cutting out snowflakes. Luckily, my art skills transfer to ornament making. Soon were both lost in the task. Harmony hums as she cuts on her creations.

“You’re humming again,” I say when I can’t identify the tune.

“Sorry. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t quite catch it. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” I understand exactly. My hands have been itching to draw her since I turned around this morning to see who had me in a death lock.

“My manager says to leave it alone, and it’ll come out when it’s ready.” She shrugs her shoulders and studies my snowflakes. “You’re weirdly good at this. How many do you have?”

“Ten or fifteen.”

“That should be plenty. Should we hang them on our tree?”

Something about hearing the words “our tree” makes my heart warm. It’s strange how much I’m starting to enjoy this Christmas. With just my brother and me, it’s never been very festive. We just stopped trying years ago. There’s only so much Yuletide cheer two single men are willing to do.

“What do you think?” she asks several minutes later when we have the snowflakes hung on the limbs.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad?” she says with a puff. I check to make sure she’s not upset, but she’s smirking at me. “That’s a work of art.”

“Fucking Mona Lisa.”

“That’s better. Now how about some of my famous, but totally stolen recipe, shrimp gumbo?” She laughs.

“Can’t. Too busy marveling at this masterpiece,” I say, pointing at the tree.

“Smart-ass,” she mumbles. Rolling her eyes, she shoves me toward the kitchen.

“Did you just cuss?”

“Yes, now get in the kitchen, asshat, before I change my mind and toss it all out the backdoor.”

“I would hate all that good shrimp to go to waste. I’m sure this asshat will appreciate it more than the raccoons.” She grins at me, and I follow her into the kitchen. At this point, I would follow her anywhere.