6. Lacie
LACIE
I couldn’t fully enjoy Northern Montana’s crystalline beauty. Oh, sure, I gaped in wonder at the vacant landscape everywhere I looked, and at the vast whiteness turning the ground into a blanket.
But it felt like my shoe had lost its heel, and I was walking on unlevel ground with every step.
Once we landed in Billings, Jared and I caught a shuttle from the airport to a little town called West Hills. Thoroughly bundled in the coat I’d packed in my side bag, I paused on Main Street and soaked in the cowboy-movie look of the buildings.
Everything was rustic, Old West, and the fact that there were more trees than buildings made it seem spacious, like there was more access to air and sky and all things nature here. The darkening horizon only added to the magical feel.
I inhaled the crisp, pine-scented air and shuddered at the cool effect each breath had on my lungs. Snow piled in gutters, having just been cleared from the sidewalks. Like Fort Worth, several of the shops had painted decals indicating the Christmas holidays in their store windows.
I itched to explore, to rove and window-shop, to take everything in.
But a vacant sorrow swam through me, burning behind my eyes. Because this would be the perfect place for a rustic wedding. I wondered if there were other hotel accommodations here in town on top of those at Harper’s Inn. The number of rooms we’d need would depend on the guest list…
Scratch that. This was no longer a wedding-planning venture. This was a getaway in every sense of the word, and I had to get my thoughts away from Wyatt and The Wedding That Would Never Be.
I sniffed and hurried to dash away my sadness before Jared noticed.
“I haven’t seen snow in so long,” he said, folding his arms tightly against his torso as though his puffy blue coat wasn’t doing its job of keeping him warm.
“It missed you.” I bent for a scoop and tossed it in his direction.
Moving was good. Normal. I needed a dash of normal right about now.
The snow left a white splat on his arm.
“Hey,” he said, dusting it off.
I expected him to return the favor, to barrel me over and stuff snow down my shirt, but he only hugged himself tighter and sniffed, looking away.
Hmm.
So much for normal.
I coerced a smile to my lips, glad my face muscles still worked in the upward direction—considering how all I wanted to do was hide and cry.
“You’re cold?” I said.
“So what?”
“So.” I dusted snow from my fingers. “I’m surprised all that muscle isn’t doing a better job of keeping you warm.” The mere sight of it kept any woman who saw it plenty heated.
“Hey, you like my muscles.”
“Yes, I do.”
He paused and peered at me while an uncomfortable heat writhed in my belly. I wasn’t sure why. He had to know I thought he was well-formed, didn’t he?
My admiration had never been a big deal before. Why make it out to be one now?
“Come on,” I said.
I was done with the awkwardness that kept popping up. And the sadness, too, for that matter, though I knew I couldn’t dash that away as quickly as I wanted to.
Why did hearts have to break, anyway? Mine felt as though it had its own personal Grand Canyon right down the center of it.
“Let’s go find some cocoa. We need to live it up properly while we’re here, and nothing says Christmas and snow like a warm mug of cocoa.”
Jared relaxed and fell into step beside me. “Will there be cocoa at the inn? Where is it, by the way?”
“It’s up the mountain.” I indicated the one and only street West Hills had.
“Then why did we stop here?”
The rip in my heart splayed a little wider. I sniffed and crinkled my nose to keep the tears away.
“I wanted to see the town. And my client said that in order to get the full experience, we need to arrive at Harper’s Inn by?—”
My throat pinched off the words. Why couldn’t my body grasp that I was trying to move on? Why did my emotions have to override everything else right now?
Jared didn’t miss a beat. He tilted in. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I said, choking.
I cleared my throat. I couldn’t speak.
Horse-drawn sleigh. I was going to tell him that my client recommended we arrive by horse-drawn sleigh. Because romance.
Another thing I could no longer have.
“I should never have come with you,” he said grimly.
My eyes flashed at him, but where I expected to find remorse riddling his handsome face, he looked irritated, and he answered my questioning glance.
“I should have stayed home so I could pummel that imbecile for hurting you.”
I blinked several times and cleared my throat again. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Jared had an elderly-brother-like protective streak for me, like the times he defended me from kids who would tease me during lunch at school or that time I’d gotten home from a date where the guy pretended to get beaten up and it had shocked me completely until I realized it was a joke.
Believe me, I got practical jokes. Look at who my bestie was. But that had taken things a little too far.
“Not that you wouldn’t come out the victor, and not that I wouldn’t love to have you fight in my honor, but I’m glad you’re not knocking down his door.”
I’d rather have him here with me.
“There would be nothing left of his door once I got done with it.”
That did it. A laugh leaked out and loosened the tightness in my chest. As though a mere door could pay penance for its owner’s sins.
Though Jared worked out regularly because he loved to feel fit—and I didn’t doubt that he could hold his own if the occasion ever called for it because just look at his arms—he wasn’t a violent person.
He was all bark right now, and that bark was exactly what I needed from him.
“You never finished,” he said, his breath puffing out from his mouth as he glared down the single street and its shops. “How are we arriving?”
“Horse-drawn sleigh,” I said. The words came easier. I checked the time on my phone. “Looks like our driver will be here in about twenty minutes.”
“What till then?” he asked.
My feeble smile reappeared. “Let’s browse.”
Gift shops were my jam, and I knew Jared liked to explore them, too.
Pulling my suitcase behind me, I searched for The Rusty Spur, the store where my arrangements said we’d be picked up, and stepped inside. Warmth hit my cheeks, wrapping around me like a hug. Jared sighed beside me as well.
Upbeat, festive music played overhead. Stands of t-shirts, coats, and shelves filled the space. I perused a nearby display of gloves, scarves, and books.
Jared kicked snow from his shoes and trundled over to inspect the DVD stand. They were all marked down, which was unsurprising since most movies could be accessed digitally these days.
I paused to let the scene absorb me before trailing to his side. There was a display featuring a bear wearing a Santa hat. It held up a little sign that said, “Come to America’s North Pole!”
In front of the bear were t-shirts with radios on them. Others featured cartoon Santa’s and the words, “I Believe.”
Jared’s long fingers sorted through movie titles I didn’t recognize.
“It feels so good in here.” I fanned out my fingers, glad the chill that had lingered from throwing snow earlier was gone.
Jared raised an eyebrow at me. “You grew up in Idaho.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I’m just saying the weather shouldn’t be a shock.”
“Because I’ve lived in Fort Worth for the last ten years, and it’s never this cold there. You forget things after being away from them for a while.”
“I thought you liked living in Idaho.” He lowered his hands.
“I did. I never said I didn’t like this. Just that it’s cold. I don’t have all your bulk to keep me insulated, remember?”
Jared snorted and ambled over to inspect a lineup of coats. I followed, stopping at the sight of a teal shirt with the name West Hills, Montana monogrammed on the side. Not only was teal one of my favorite colors, but I knew how well it looked with Jared’s skin tone.
“You’d look great in this,” I said, removing the shirt from the top of the pile. “We need to document our trip.”
“No, thanks. I don’t need any evidence.”
My grip tightened on the shirt. “Evidence of what?”
He grunted and turned away from me. That wasn’t like him.
Something was bothering him—but what? I set the shirt down and stepped closer to him.
“What does that mean?”
He kept his attention on the selection of plush animals. Not something Jared was usually interested in looking at.
“Nothing,” he said without looking at me.
“That’s so not nothing. Tell me.”
His lips pressed together. He frowned at the stuffed polar bears and finally met my gaze.
“Sorry. I’m just feeling so…”
“Weird?” I suggested.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. I don’t really know how to act or what to do once this trip is over.”
“Is that all it is?”
He exhaled a labored breath. He reached for a plush moose, stroked its furry antler, and then put it back on the display.
“Before she left, Tia said she was worried because I would be spending Christmas with you. I told her you were leaving, and I just feel like I’ve lied to her or something.”
I reached for the same moose he’d set back. Its fur was strokably soft. “But you didn’t really lie to her. Can you call her? Explain the situation?”
“Probably. I’m not really sure what to say.”
Hugging the moose to my chest, I nudged him. I didn’t like the line between his eyes. “You’re helping me get over a broken heart.”
“That will go across like a lead balloon.”
Hm. Would she take that to mean he was my rebound or something? “You know what I mean.”
His brows lifted as though he were unsure of what to say. “I know. But it’s going to raise a lot of questions with her.”
Something pricked the underside of my ribs, and I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Why should this bother me? The last thing I wanted was to cause problems for him and Tia.
I set the moose back onto its display and worked up an optimistic outlook for his sake.
“Just you wait. Once we get to Harper’s Inn, everything will work out.”
Maybe once we finally arrived, I’d feel better about being dumped. Maybe he would have enough time to figure out what to tell Tia. There was still time to figure things out.
Jared’s lips pressed into that little smile he had. His shoulders relaxed.
“What makes you love that place so much?” he asked. “Where did you even hear about it?”
I browsed the shirt rack, not really looking at anything. It was just for something to do. My fingers trailed along the shoulders of the shirts.
“One of my clients scheduled her honeymoon there, and she gushed so much about it, I had to look it up.”
“So…it’s ritzy?”
“Not really. It’s quaint and small and?—”
His face settled into confusion. “That doesn’t sound like you. I don’t get the appeal.”
He had a point. When I vacationed, I liked to stay at resorts with renown and prestige, resorts where I might stumble across a famous person or two—preferably located in areas that gave me bragging rights.
Harper’s Inn wasn’t glamorous in that sense. It was more suited to something in an old western than a Hollywood blockbuster.
I wasn’t about to go into my initial motive for coming here—to scope out Harper’s Inn’s Event Center and see if it was as ideal of a place for a wedding as a few recent gossip magazines and several of my clients had boasted.
I’d focus on a different point of interest.
We probably already looked touristy, but no one else beside the girl working behind the register was in here to care. In any case, I moved in closer so I could keep my voice low.
“It’s called America’s North Pole because there’s this rumor that Santa Claus himself stopped by one year and delivered presents in person."
Jared looked unamused. “You’re kidding, right? Santa Claus?”
“I never kid about Santa Claus.” I kept my tone dry.
In all reality, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d talked about Santa Claus other than with my client. Santa was just a playful gimmick invented for children to create excitement during the holiday.
From the twinge at the corner of his mouth, I knew Jared read my deadpan cynicism for what it was. He knew I’d stopped believing in Santa a long time ago.
But this wasn’t the kind of thing many inns bragged about, and I found myself intrigued. Which was probably the whole idea behind the story.
“What kind of presents?” he asked.
“Supposedly, there’s this radio that used to belong to him, back at the real North Pole. And when he forgot to bring presents to the kids who lived at the house they turned into Harper’s Inn, he hurried home, grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on, and returned with it.”
“A radio?”
“Yes! But that’s not all. This is why my client—and thousands of others, I would guess, based on how hard it was to get a room—wanted to spend her honeymoon there. They claim the radio still holds traces of Santa Magic.”
“Santa Magic?”
“Yeah, you know that stuff that makes his reindeer fly? That lets him deliver presents all over the world in a single night? That makes it so he can go down chimneys and?—”
Jared laughed, and I was happy to see his usual smile return. “I get it. I’m not saying I buy it, but I get it.” He gave his attention to the teal shirt I’d pointed out earlier.
“I don’t buy it, either. But it’s kind of fun. And kudos to their marketing department, because I’m sure the story draws in more guests than anything else. It’s not even a ski resort. Why would anyone go to Harper’s Inn if not for the Santa story or to see the radio?”
“Definitely adds an element of mystery.”
He stared down at his shoes and then glanced around as the bell over the door jangled. A few others who’d gotten on the shuttle with us from the airport stepped inside, and he lowered his voice.
“How much longer till that sleigh ride of yours, anyway?”
I peered toward the front window. During the brief time we’d spent inside, the sun had set, taking its light from the sky and letting night descend. A cherry-red sleigh, designed to accommodate multiple passengers, was also parked out on the street. The sleigh was harnessed to two identical gray horses.
The bell over the door jangled again, and this time, a man bundled in a fur-brimmed hat, thick gloves, and with rosy cheeks stepped inside and cleared his throat.
“Those of you making for Harper’s Inn, we’ll leave in ten minutes.”
Several of the newcomers nodded their thanks. I let out a squeak of delight and pounded my fist lightly against Jared’s arm.
“Ten minutes!”
“Just the kind of thing you like to hear.” His eyes glittered, and I beamed right back at him.
Yes, this was just the kind of thing I wanted to hear. Ten more minutes, and we’d be on our way to the romantic, magical, honeymoon-esque—friendly—Harper’s Inn.
The honeymoon-esque part of that thought robbed my breath and burned behind my eyes with unexpected heat. I gasped, wishing the tears would go away.
Hadn’t I already cried enough over that loser?