Chapter 5
Chapter five
I shoulder through the double doors of City Hall, and get hit with a wall of pine-scented steam. Someone’s cranked the heat to sauna levels, probably to keep the old radiators from clanking during speeches.
Looks like the board went above and beyond and installed three massive crystal chandeliers. They’re rented, no doubt, because Passion Pines doesn’t own anything that fancy. A portable parquet dance floor is set up in front of the stage, and Wren Cutler’s band is already tuning up.
Every table has a low centerpiece of red roses and silver garland.
The room is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with flannel, sequins, and the occasional Santa hat, but no her.
I relived yesterday’s kisses in and out of my dreams last night and I’m starting to get an erection just thinking about her lips. Where is she?
I weave past Mrs. Phipps, who’s waving a bell-shaped cookie, and spot my family near the punch bowl.
My brother Creed is leaning against a pillar.
With one boot heel hooked on the baseboard, he’s grinning down at Lyssa like she hung the moon.
I shake my head. Poor bastard has no idea the cameras roll into town come February for a reality show.
Lyssa’s already signed the contract. Reality TV?
Valentine’s Day in Passion Pines? That’s a recipe for my brother to get his heart shredded.
I track down Mom, who snagged a table big enough for our crew, and save two chairs for Winter and Lauren. When the side door swings open and Winter walks in, my pulse flips to high gear.
Winter McAllister is all curves tonight, wrapped in a white sweater dress that catches the chandelier light.
Tiny snowflakes shimmer across the knit when she moves.
Her dark hair spills over one shoulder. She’s the most beautiful woman in the room.
Hell, she’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.
But it’s the way she scans the crowd, chin lifted, shoulders squared, that hooks me.
She doesn’t hunt for attention; she just owns whatever space she steps into.
Lethal. Lauren trails half a step behind, clutching two paper cups of something steaming.
I cross the dance floor, and Winter’s gaze finds mine.
“Evening, ladies.” I tip an imaginary hat. “Saved you prime real estate, dead center, unobstructed view of the band, and zero chance of getting roped into a conga line.”
Winter’s lips curve into a sly, teasing smile. “How thoughtful. Lauren, looks like we’ve been adopted.”
Lauren lifts a brow. “Hope there’s spiked cider.”
“Guaranteed,” I promise, moving beside Winter, close enough to catch the faint scent of vanilla and fresh snow. When we reach the table, my mother pivots to us, making her green velvet dress swirl around her calves. “Mom, this is Winter McAllister and her roommate Lauren.”
Mom’s smile crinkles the corners of her eyes. She says hi to Lauren first and then shifts to Winter, “The pleasure’s mine.” She extends a hand. “I’m Clara.”
Winter clasps it gently. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m stunned our paths haven’t crossed. I own Grizzly Grind, a little coffee shop up on the ridge.” She flicks a manicured nail toward the plate-glass windows where the mountain looms black against the sky. “Are you new in town?”
Winter laughs. “If five years count as new. I commute to Boise a few times a week, and have a pretty tight work schedule, so I don’t get out much.”
“And what did you do to end up on the list, honey?”
Heat crawls up my neck, but I keep a straight face, glued on Winter, dying to know what she did to wind up doing penance with me. Winter’s cheeks flush pink as she shrugs a shoulder and plays it cool. “The naughty list? I have no clue why.”
Lauren snorts into her cider. “She’s on the list because she dates so many people.”
Mom’s eyes snap to me, and I meet them with the blankest, most innocent stare I can muster, pretending I have nothing in common with Winter, and no idea why she’s focused her attention on me.
But of course, in a tiny town like Passion Pines, everything I do is public record.
Too many late-night shenanigans with too many willing partners.
Mom knows. The whole town knows, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of admitting that sometimes I need company to keep myself from going insane.
If they knew half the shit I’ve had to deal with after my time serving my country, they wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Winter’s ears go scarlet. She angles her body, shielding the motion from Mom, but I see her clearly mouth shut up to Lauren, before she pivots back, and smooths the front of her dress. “My roommate’s only kidding.”
Lauren, apparently oblivious to Winter’s cue, doubles down. “I am not.” She gestures to the far end of the hall. “See that guy, Bryce? He was crazy about her, followed her around like a golden retriever on steroids. He still sulks whenever her name comes up.”
Winter squirms, and my stomach drops straight through the floor. I clear my throat. “Bryce Helmsley, as in Mrs. Helmsley’s son? The idiot who tried to trademark ‘mountain man chic’?”
Lauren nods enthusiastically. “That’s him.
Winter dumped him right before elk season.
He moped so hard the feed store ran out of tissues, and I haven’t even mentioned Jimbo, and before that was Gerard, but he lives in Boise, so I’m not sure the naughty and nice board factored him into the equation. ”
Winter buries her face in her hands. “Lauren, please. For the love of Christmas, I will pay you to stop talking.”
Mom’s lips twitch, but before Lauren can lob another grenade, the microphone squeals. Mrs. Helmsley climbs the three steps to the stage in a glittering sequined shawl. The board members fan out behind her, clutching envelopes and red and green felt elf hats. Wren’s fiddle cuts off mid-note.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Helmsley announces, “let the crowning commence!”
I turn back to Winter, who still looks mortified. When she finally peers up, I capture her stare and tell her, “It’s okay. I get it.” I would’ve kept her secret. I don’t blame her for moving on from someone she knew wouldn’t work out because I do the same.
Winter smiles at me like I’m her hero, and in her expression alone, the realization hits me. I think I’ve found my match.
***
Winter
I’m trying to ignore the way my cheeks are scorching from Lauren’s loose-lipped ambush, the words golden retriever on steroids ricochet inside my brain.
I was hoping Tanner and I could pick up where we left off yesterday after we kissed.
Who knows what he thinks of me now, after Lauren aired my dirty laundry.
Mrs. Helmsley squeals into the microphone, and I thank the heavens for the timing of her interruption.
Clara’s red sparkly drops swing as she shifts toward the stage. Tanner stands beside me next to his family’s table, wielding an exceptionally gorgeous lazy grin as a shield. Wish I could borrow some of his bravery. I’m hoping the floor will swallow me whole, but there’s no escaping this mess.
The red, green and gold sequins on Mrs. Helmsley’s sweater flash as she claps. “We begin, as always, with our angels of virtue!” She presents a stack of green elf hats to the crowd. “Come along, my nice list people. Don’t be shy. Front and center!”
She calls out five names: Mrs. Phipps for baking enough cookies to feed the National Guard, Mr. Delgado for shoveling every sidewalk in town, and so on.
Each recipient shuffles onto the stage to polite applause as Mrs. Helmsley crowns the winners.
The little bells on each hat jingle as my tummy sinks.
I pretty much work alone, so I’m really not cut out for this.
I shift my weight, and Tanner’s fingers graze the small of my back, just enough to anchor me.
Come on, get to the red hats, so we can get this over with.
A toddler in the front row waves a glow stick at me as his mom sneezes into a napkin. Mrs. Helmsley beams like she’s personally responsible for every good deed in Passion Pines as she wraps up the nice list.
The crowd claps again while anticipation crackles through me, until finally, finally, I hear, “And now, our reigning monarchs of mischief!” The bell on the first red hat jingles as she waves it over her head.
“Tanner Stone, is naughty one, and Winter McAllister is two, as in too naughty for her own good!”
Lovely. Laughter rolls through the room as Tanner’s hand settles fully at my waist now, guiding me before my legs remember how to work.
We weave between the chairs, past Clara’s knowing smile, past Bryce’s sharp scowl, and a few other mistakes I would rather not think about.
How was I to know everyone I dated was a dud?
I had to date them first to figure it out.
So what if I bailed? Getting out of a relationship early is far better than leading anyone on.
The three steps up to the stage creak under our feet as someone’s kid takes pictures of us with his phone.
Mrs. Helmsley plops the red hat on Tanner first; the bell gives a pathetic jingle. Mine follows, while she proclaims me as miss too naughty. Tanner’s gaze locks on mine under his brim and mouths, we’ve got this, as the rest of the names are called.
Before I know it, the ceremony mercifully wraps up, and Wren Cutler and his band kick off the dancing with a slow waltz. Tanner offers his hand with a thoroughly appropriate mischievous grin. “We’ve come this far, and you promised.”
“And I would never go back on my word.” I take hold of his hand, feeling the sparks zap through me as we walk to the dance floor.
His other hand finds my waist, and we move together in one step, and then another.
His thumb traces over my dress as if he’s memorizing the pattern, while leading with confidence under the sparkling chandeliers.
Thankfully, there are no flashy spins or moves, just the steady pressure of his grip steering me through the crowd.
My pulse syncs with the thud of his boots.
“You okay?” he murmurs, with his breath warm against my temple. “Would a kiss make it better?”
I peer up into his gorgeous blue eyes. “I’m mortified,” I admit. “And yes. Lauren’s mouth should come with a muzzle.”
He chuckles, low and private. “Lauren should come with a muzzle, or yes, you want me to kiss you?”
“Both.” I laugh.
“She did you a favor, by the way. Saved me from snooping around town to find out what put you on the list with me. But I would kiss you, no matter what I found.”
I snort, actually snort, and he grins wider.
The song slows, and the space between us shrinks.
His thumb keeps moving, small circles that spark heat through my sweater dress.
And strike me down, even now, with every eye in the room on the naughties and nices, I notice the way his lashes catch the light, and how he smells like freshly cut wood shavings and fresh air.
“You’re not upset,” I ask softly. “About the list? The gossip?”
“Mad?” He spins me gently. “Winter, it takes more than an elf hat crown to rattle me. I’ve got you, my partner in crime.”
Most of the men I’ve dated couldn’t have handled being called out in public, even if this silly event is all in good fun … But he just sways with me patiently, letting me find the rhythm, ignoring the glare coming from Bryce across the auditorium.
A sudden epiphany rattles my core. Tanner is the opposite of what everyone thinks of him.
He’s the safest man in this room. Not tame.
I chuckle to myself, no. He wouldn’t be as fun if he were tame, but he is safe.
Solid and unmovable like the mountain towering above Passion Pines.
The waltz ends with a ripple of applause, and Wren Cutler invites everyone to join in, but Tanner doesn’t let go.
He rests his forehead against mine for a heartbeat, or two and asks, “What do you say we get the hell out of here?” I purse my lips, nonchalantly scanning the space.
Mrs. Phipps is passing out cookies, and Clara is smiling at Creed, who apparently needs to be talked off a ledge about a situation with a woman I know nothing about.
“Where?” I whisper.
“Anywhere.” His hands tighten around my waist.
“Let’s.”
He grins. “Now, you’re talkin’,” and smoothly leads me along the edge of the dance floor. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I watch him sneak to our table and grab my purse and our jackets.
He hurries back, and we slip out the nearby exit into the night.
Cold slaps my bare arms, but Tanner’s already opening my coat and helping me into it.
He slips into his and grabs my hand as we hurry across the icy asphalt to his truck.
He helps me into the passenger seat, then circles to the driver’s side.
The engine coughs, then growls to life, and heat blasts from the vents, but the cab is still an icebox.
Tanner drums the steering wheel while our breaths fog the windows.
“Want to go to my place? Have something warm to drink? Talk? Kiss?”
I let out a nervous laugh. Tanner is unlike any other man I’ve dated. I knew within a minute of talking to him that he had the power to hurt me, but caution is for the weak. I’m ready to dive in head first.
“You’re the number one naughty. Not sure I should trust you with cocoa, let alone body heat.”
His grin flashes in the dark. “Nothing’s too naughty for you.”