Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
REID – DECEMBER 23
F ollowing the circuitous path to Syanne’s cabin, my boots leave tracks in the four-inch, overnight snowfall. I make a mental note to check the schedule for the maintenance staff. Down to a skeleton holiday crew, at least one person is on site twenty-four-seven to shovel snow, run the snowcat and take care of any issues for our guests. Though we keep the road plowed as far as the reception office and gift shop, guests love the adventure and ambience of riding the snowcat to their secluded cabins.
I’d originally planned to bury myself in paperwork today, my customary method of distracting myself from the memories that plague me every Christmas. But today, I’d woken up with Syanne on my mind, and I can’t think about anything besides how we can spend the day together.
My preoccupation isn’t a sign that I want to turn our fake relationship into a real one—Syanne was even more adamant about the temporary status than I was. My real goal is to keep Nanna happy in the thought that I might start dating again. And so far, it’s working like a charm, judging by the way she was humming this morning as she dragged dust-covered boxes out of the Christmas closet, saying something about “making things pretty for Syanne.” Neither of us have had any desire to decorate since the accident, so I was surprised the dull ache in my heart didn’t sharpen at the sight of the hand-carved creche that used to be dad’s favorite. Maybe Syanne was right about bringing back traditions to honor my family.
I stomp my feet on Syanne’s porch to knock the snow off.
“Come on in!” Syanne’s voice calls, muffled by the heavy door. As I open it, I’m engulfed in a heavenly scent that brings back bittersweet memories of Christmases long ago.
“What smells so good?” I kick off my boots and follow my nose to the kitchen in sock feet.
“I’ve got my last batch of Snickerdoodles in the oven. Now I’m making Monster Cookies.” Cute as the dickens with her hair up in a ponytail, she smiles at me, her face streaked with flour. I can’t resist rubbing a white smudge off her cheek with my thumb. But as my hand cups her jaw, her luscious lips catch my gaze. Suddenly I’m reliving that accidental kiss at the airport. Maybe I could arrange another such accident.
Not wise for a man who intends to stay single.
“Uhm… Reid?” Her eyes go round as frisbees.
I’m still holding her face! I jerk my hand back, and turn to hide my own face, which is probably redder than hers.
“Sorry. You had a little flour there…” Desperate to cover my gaffe, I snatch a cookie from the cooling rack. “These look great.” I bite off a chunk before I realize how hot the center is.
“Wait! Those just came out of the oven. ”
I open my mouth and fan air around the sizzling cookie, which tastes amazing despite the heat. Maybe the pain will remind me to watch myself around Syanne.
“It’s really good,” I mumble around my burning mouthful.
She rolls her eyes. “Well, you can have a few cookies, but you can’t eat all of them. My job is to stock us up on all the family favorites before they get here.”
“You have everything you need?”
“My grocery order had enough baking stuff to make a dozen cookies for every person staying at St. Nick’s for the holidays.” She turns back to her stand mixer.
“That’s more people than you think. This cabin has four bedrooms, and it’s one of the smaller ones, with nineteen cabins in all.”
“Yeah, St. Nick’s is incredible.” She wrinkles her nose.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I love it. But it’s so extravagant I feel guilty, even though I’m not spending my own money to stay here.” She combines a bowl of dry ingredients with wet ones and stirs.
“If it makes you feel any better…” I’m rewarded with a smirk as I steal a few red and green M&Ms before she adds them to her mix. “The guy who owns St. Nick’s donates 100% of the December cabin rentals to charity.”
Her jaw drops. “All of St. Nick’s is owned by one guy?”
Not the point I was trying to make. “Did you hear the part about the donations?”
“That’s cool, but I can’t imagine one guy owning the entire corporation.”
“St. Nick’s is privately owned, so our owner is the CEO, and owns the stock majority. But the point is that he’s generous, not selfish and arrogant like your ex. He’s a nice guy. ”
She makes a hmph-sound. I don’t think now is the time to tell her it’s me.
Syanne places balls of dough in perfect lines onto a clean cookie sheet. “More importantly, I’ve been wondering how we might try reviving a Christmas tradition for you and your Nanna. Maybe something simple. Did your family watch a favorite movie together every year? Or decorate Christmas cookies?”
“Mom used to bake, like you do. My favorite was her chocolate mint brownies. I’d love to bring that tradition back, but the recipe is buried in the bottom of some box in my basement.”
“Sounds yummy.” She licks her lips, and I have to rip my gaze away from them again.
“Coming to the St. Nick’s cabin for Christmas is the one family tradition Nanna and I have kept, even though it’s sad with just the two of us.”
Syanne lifts a suspicious eyebrow. “If your family could afford to come here every year, you’re richer than I thought.”
She opens the upper oven and slides the cookie sheet inside.
“We do have money.” I cringe, my insides twisting. “Do you hate me now? I was afraid to tell you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t really hate people just because they’re rich. Obviously, your family isn’t arrogant about it. Look how sweet your Nanna is.”
“I was afraid you’d think I was like your ex, if I told you.”
“Of course not.” A timer dings, and she removes the Monster Cookies from the lower oven.
“Good.” The knot in my belly unwinds. Maybe I can finally come clean about owning St. Nick’s.
“You’re nothing like Grant.” Syanne moves the hot cookies, one-by-one, to the cooling rack. “Their company is worth millions, and Grant grew up knowing he would be the CEO someday. He was raised in a different world, so he couldn’t relate to an ordinary person like me.”
My gut balls up again. She could be describing my life.
“You’re not ordinary, Syanne. You’re smart and beautiful.”
“I appreciate your kind words.” She leans back against the counter. “Grant used to say the same things, but he didn’t mean them.”
Watching her stare into space, shoulders drooping, I’m starting to wish I’d hit Grant when I had the chance. “Your ex is a first-class jerk, and his opinions don’t deserve space in your head.”
She straightens, propping her hands on her hips. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t need Grant’s admiration or approval to believe in myself.”
“Exactly. And if you start to forget, I’m going to remind you again.”
My breath catches as she wraps an arm around my waist in a sideways hug. “Thank you, Reid. Thank you for standing up for me with Grant at the airport. And thank you for reminding me who I am. No guy has ever done that for me before.”
“Oh… sure…” Though our bodies are barely touching, something about the contact is short-circuiting my brain cells so I can’t form a complete sentence. “You’re... you know... welcome.”
Oblivious to my discomfort, she returns to spooning out dough. “My sister keeps telling me I shouldn’t give up on love. And thanks to you, I’m starting to believe she could be right. Maybe good guys still exist. Maybe I really will fall in love and get married one day. And if that ever happens…” Her startling blue eyes focus on me. “You’ll get all the credit.”
“Great.” The word sticks to my dry tongue.
Knowing we have no possible future together, this is exactly what I should want for her. So why do I feel like a flat tire?