Chapter 7 Ruby
RUBY
I can’t stop smiling at myself in the bathroom mirror as I pull on a fresh festive sweater and some jeans. Ivan is waiting for me in the living room. I can hear him pacing around, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. Just knowing he’s there sends butterflies flapping around my belly.
I was pretty devastated when I got that call from my brother this morning, but Ivan has changed everything. It was so freakin’ sweet of him to ask me over. He didn’t have to do that. I’m sure he would have preferred a quiet Christmas, just him and North, so it means the world that he offered.
This “Grinch” has officially saved my Christmas.
Heck, I wasn’t even expecting to see him again.
I kept my promise to myself, refusing to bother him or find any excuse to knock on his door.
It wasn’t easy. I spent three whole days shut up inside reading fantasy smut and picturing Ivan as the hero.
Safe to say I was going a little stir crazy.
So, when he appeared on the doorstep out of nowhere, I was shocked…
and also a little mortified that he found me crying in my pajamas with messy hair and morning breath.
Not my best look.
But that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is I’m spending the holidays with Ivan and North. It’s not the Christmas I imagined—but I have a feeling it could be even better.
“Ready, Candy Cane?” Ivan asks as I leave the bathroom.
The nickname sets my pulse quivering all over again, just like the man waiting for me by the door. He looks bigger and brawnier than ever in his thick winter jacket, the heat of his gaze making me blush.
“Ready.” I shrug on my coat, grab the overnight bag I packed, and follow Ivan outside.
The storm is still raging as we climb down the frozen steps, the wind howling in our ears.
Before I came to Cherry Mountain, I pictured snow being gentle, drifting down slowly from the sky like powdered sugar.
Turns out that’s only sometimes. Right now, it’s falling so violently I can barely see, turning the world into a haze of churning white.
When I make it to the bottom of the stairs, my feet sink into the snow. I’m almost knee-deep, my knees soaking wet.
So cold.
I try to trudge forward, but stumble, falling against Ivan’s back.
“S-shoot! S-sorry.”
The storm swallows my teeth-chattering words as Ivan helps me up. He squints at me through the snow, then mouths something I can’t hear.
“What?” I shout.
With an impatient shake of his head, he moves toward me.
Suddenly, I’m being lifted into the air, scooped up in Ivan’s strong arms like I’m weightless.
He carries me bridal-style through the trees, holding me against his chest. His body heat thaws my skin, and I instinctively nuzzle against him, eager for warmth.
We reach his cabin a few minutes later. When I came knocking a few days ago, I saw a spacious log cabin made from dark wood. Now, most of Ivan’s home is obscured by a giant snowdrift. It forms a giant white wave, rising all the way up to the topmost window, which is only just visible.
Ivan has already dug a path to the front door.
He shoulders it open, the wind slamming it shut behind us as he carries me over the threshold and into the living room.
It’s like plunging into a hot bath. Flames are roaring in the giant stone fireplace, which takes up half the opposite wall.
It’s the only source of light, making shadows dance across the room.
All the windows are still shuttered—presumably blocked by snow.
North barks excitedly, jumping up at Ivan as he sets me down.
“Easy, boy.”
Ivan pets him, then flicks the light switch. The living room glows to life. It’s spacious but cozy—all brown leather and warm colors. Plush rugs cover the wooden floorboards, and exposed beams crisscross the vaulted ceiling. It smells like Ivan—pine and peppermint.
“This place is gorgeous,” I tell him, letting out a low whistle.
“Glad you like it.” He beckons me toward him. “You need to warm up.”
I join him on the couch by the fire, sinking into the worn leather. It’s a two-seater, and Ivan’s hulking frame takes up almost one and a half of those. If I were thinner then it might work, but I’m a big girl, so I have to squeeze myself in beside him. Our sides press together, thighs touching.
Heck, I’m not complaining.
I guess this is just another reason not to diet.
“Sorry,” Ivan mutters. “I’m too damn big for this couch. Keep meaning to get a new one.”
I shrug. “I like it. It’s cozy.”
Ivan shifts in his seat, and I catch sight of him in my peripheral vision.
His jaw is set tight, bushy brows drawn into his usual scowl.
The firelight catches the gray streaks in his beard, and I almost want to moan out loud from how attractive he is.
I have to resist the urge to lean against him and rest my head on his broad shoulder. I’m already practically on his lap.
“You warmer now?” he asks, his voice as deep and growly as the storm outside.
“Yes, all warmed up.” I smile at him. “Thanks for carrying me all the way here, by the way.”
“No problem. Seemed practical.” To my disappointment, he suddenly stands up, leaving my side bare. “Want something to drink? Got coffee, hot chocolate…”
“A hot chocolate would be great.”
Ivan frowns. “Can’t make it like you do. Haven’t got cream or marshmallows.”
He looks genuinely concerned that he can’t make my hot chocolate the way I like it.
Ugh, how is this man so perfect?
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “All hot chocolate is good hot chocolate in my book.”
Ivan nods and disappears into the kitchen.
I hear cupboards opening, the whistle of an old-school kettle slowly getting louder.
I reach down to pet North while I wait. He’s sprawled on his belly at my feet, backlit by the fire, his white fur looking almost gold.
As I run a hand over his head, scratching his ears, my gaze roams from the blazing flames up to the mantel.
There are two framed photos—one of North and one of an elderly couple smiling at the camera. Ivan’s mom and dad, I assume. I stand up to get a better look just as Ivan walks back into the room, carrying two steaming mugs.
“Thanks,” I say when he hands one to me, before nodding at the photo. “Are they your parents?”
His eyes flit to the photo as we sit back down on the couch. “Yeah, that’s them.”
“Do they live around here?”
“They did.” Ivan frowns, looking away from the picture. “Gone now. They both passed away a couple of years back.”
My heart sinks. “Oh, Ivan, I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard.”
“Yeah. They were the only family I had.” He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing like he’s trying to compose himself. “Had me pretty late in life, so they were both in their eighties when cancer took ‘em. Passed within two days of each other. Glad they weren’t apart for long.”
I smile sadly. “It sounds like they had something really special.”
“They did. Pretty rare, that kind of love.” He seems lost in thought for a moment, before he snaps back to life with a glance in my direction. “Anyway. What about you, Candy Cane? Got family waiting for you in Miami?”
I fight the urge to wince. “Nope. My brother Maddox is my only relative. Well, technically he’s my stepbrother, but I never call him that.”
Ivan’s brows draw in. “Your parents not in the picture?”
“No.” I bite my lip, trying to find the right words to explain the mess that is my family’s past. “My biological mom walked out. Then my dad remarried, and I got a stepmom and a stepbrother. But things with my dad were always…complicated. He died in an accident when I was nine, and my stepmom raised me after that. Then she passed away in her sleep a few years ago. It was really sudden.”
There’s a lot of stuff I’m leaving out. Like how my dad was a corrupt small-town cop, a violent drunk who made our lives miserable.
How the accident that killed him was my brother finally snapping, punching him in the face and causing my father to fatally hit his head.
How my brother has been hiding on Cherry Mountain ever since, and I only just tracked him down after fifteen long years.
But Maddox’s secrets aren’t mine to tell.
“Fuck,” Ivan mutters. “I’m sorry, Ruby. You’ve been through so much loss already.”
He’s right. My childhood was turbulent, marked by abandonment and tragedy. But I lucked out with Maddox and my stepmom. They were my chosen family, and our bond was stronger than any blood tie. They made it all worth it, especially now that I finally have Maddox back in my life.
“I’ve learned to live with it,” I say, “but it can be tough. Especially around this time of year. But I guess that’s why I’ve always tried to make the holidays feel special. Even the years when it’s just been me alone in my apartment, eating cookies and dancing to Christmas music.”
Ivan nods. “I get it. I’m glad you make it feel special. You deserve a nice Christmas, Candy Cane. A real nice one.” There’s a determined glint in his eye when he looks at me. “Still got some of my parents’ old decorations in the attic. Wanna make this place a little more festive?”
I feel a surge of excitement, beaming at him.
“I would love that!”
Our gazes lock. His face is so close to mine that I feel my heartbeat trip over itself. Not for the first time, I wish I were brave enough to kiss him. To close the gap and taste him, feeling his rough beard against my chin.
I want him so badly.
Ivan might portray himself as a Grinch, but I know better. He’s been so good to me. Heck, he trekked through a snowstorm just to check on me, then carried me back to his cabin. There’s a heart of gold buried beneath his scowling, grumpy exterior, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
Ivan isn’t just an insanely gorgeous giant.
He’s also a good man with a good heart.
“Wait here,” he says, getting up and heading up a ladder into the attic.
It takes him three trips to bring down all the boxes, setting them down on the floor in front of me.
He wipes off a sheen of dust and opens them up to reveal a jumble of tinsel, baubles, candles, and garlands.
There are tons of retro holiday figurines—Santas, snowmen, reindeer, gingerbread men, all molded from plastic.
“Damn,” Ivan mutters. “I remember this stuff from when I was a kid. My parents bought most of it back in the eighties.”
The decorations are definitely dated. The strands of tinsel are all different colors; the baubles are mismatched; the garlands are tacky.
They’re nothing like the sleek, minimalist decorations I photograph in the background of nearly every Christmas wedding.
Nope, these boxes are a messy, unaesthetic explosion of festive joy… and I’m instantly in love.
“This stuff is perfect!” I say. “It makes it feel like a real old-school Christmas. Where should I start?”
I swear Ivan almost smiles. “Go nuts. Put stuff wherever you want. Don’t need to ask.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
I grin at him, my heart swelling with affection as I say, “Thank you, Ivan.”
He shrugs off my thanks. “Get started without me, okay? I just need to do a few things outside.”
“Uh, outside?”
Has he forgotten the raging snowstorm happening out there? Surely he can still hear the wind shrieking all around the cabin…
“Don’t worry,” he says, already heading for the door. “Won’t be long. Want this place looking like the North Pole exploded by the time I get back.”
I can’t help giggling. “You know, that really doesn’t sound like something a Grinch would say. Maybe you’re catching a little holiday spirit?”
Ivan grunts dismissively, but his eyes glimmer as he says, “See you soon, Candy Cane.”
Then he disappears outside into the raging snow.