Falling By Firelight (Christmas Romance) Read online

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her eyes snapped back up to his. Ma’am? Are you fucking kidding me? Her lips curled into the ghost of a smile, her stare forcefully blank. “I don’t need anything from you. And I have a flight to get to, so.”

  Nolan nodded, a slow, firm nod. He walked to the front door, casting one last unreadable glance back at her, and left.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Kate’s knees all but gave out. She grabbed at the side of the box, keeping herself upright as her breath heaved out of her in unsteady waves. What the hell? What the hell was that? Her body was reacting as if she’d just run a marathon. A shaky weakness consumed her. Her stomach was in knots, her skin prickling almost painfully. It was as if she was one big open wound. Raw. Ungrounded. Confused. And mad.

  Kate pushed the dark tendrils from her face, now wet with melted snow. Her creamy skin grew darker, redder, angrier. How dare he? she thought. Kate pushed herself up to her feet and stalked into the kitchen. She slammed the electric kettle into its dock and flipped it on, seething as she heated the water. He thinks he can play with me like a cat plays with a fucking toy? Because if he tries some shit like that again, he’s in for a rude fucking awakening.

  Kate folded her shaking hands under her arms, pinned them to her sides. She stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil, somehow feeling that only tea could help her now. Her mind was racing, reeling, but not making much concrete sense. What sense could she make from that? Nothing had really happened between them and yet here she was, spiraling. Struggling to pick up the pieces.

  Taking a deep, firm breath, Kate closed her eyes. It doesn’t matter. None of this really matters. It is Christmas Eve. I have a plane to catch. I get to see my family soon. Those things are real. Whatever just went down here, that was nothing. And it definitely, definitely wasn’t real.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BY 7PM, THE whipping winds had reached the speed at which they howled. Just sitting on her new couch, wrapped in a shearling blanket, Kate felt as if she were at the eye of a hurricane. Or rather, something wilder. Like the center of a tornado.

  With the blanket pulled tight around her, a cup of cocoa heavy with Bailey’s on the coffee table, Kate winced through the second hour of her apologetic phone call.

  “It just seems like we knew this would happen, Kate. Like we could have done something! If only you could just take that one extra day off work, then—“

  “I said I was sorry mom,” she cut in, her voice almost a groan. “I really am. But you know that this time of year is the busiest. These sales bolster the store for months after. I really don’t have the option of closing up any earlier. Unfortunately,” she winced, “unfortunately that means that some years, something like this will happen.”

  A pause. On the other end of the line, her mother let out a long, sad sigh. “I know, sweetie. I know that you’re doing your best. We’ll just miss you here. So so much.”

  The ache in Kate’s chest deepened. She gripped the phone tighter. “I’ll miss you too. But it’s not all bad. I may be able to fly out a day or two after Christmas. Come stay a little longer than I might have initially? I mean, that has to make up for some of it, right?”

  “Sure, honey, of course. We’ll just miss you.”

  No matter how many times she said it, the phrase stung Kate with each new impact. “And I’ll miss you. But it’s Christmas tomorrow! If you let this keep you sad through Christmas, how will I ever forgive myself?”

  “Well, Kate, that’s not—“

  “It’s true.” Her voice was soft, gentle. More and more as the years went by, Kate tried to make sure that her mother was happy. If this holiday was going to be spent apart, she at least wanted assurance that she’d done all she could to keep from ruining the family cheer. “And I’m planning to have a nice, full celebration here too,” she went on. “Obviously it won’t be anything close to as nice as going home would have been, but we can’t let the snowstorm beat us. Can we?”

  She could hear her mother’s defeated smile even through the phone. “Of course not, dear. We’ll do our best to have a good Christmas.”

  The tiniest bit of relief took root in Kate’s chest. “Thanks, mom. I’ll call again tomorrow?”

  “You’d better!” Even the spritely tone of her mother’s jest was weak. “Love you, sweetie.”

  “Love you too, mom.” Kate shut her eyes and hung up the phone.

  She sat back against the buttery leather cushion. No matter how much frustration the delivery had brought her, she was grateful for it now. If she was spending Christmas alone, it was going to be a day spent in luxurious rest. She would pull out every stop in her jolly arsenal. This was her favorite holiday, so, one way or another, she’d enjoy it.

  Kate peeled herself up from the couch. She walked over to her record player and selected one of Bing Crosby’s albums. The needle dropped into the groove and the orchestral sound filled the living room. A nostalgic warmth spread out from her core. See? This will be good. She padded into the kitchen. Bending at the waist, she peered through the hazy pane of her oven window. A tray full of peanut butter cookies was almost done. Soon they’d be decked out with the Hershey Kisses that made them Peanut Butter Blossoms. I may not have much in the way of food, but living on cookies for a day or two might actually do my heart some good. The briefest memory of the afternoon, of Nolan leaning down toward her, slipped to the forefront of her mind. She shook it away. My soul, I mean. My heart is more than fine.

  Making her way back into the living room, Kate swung her hips in time with the jingling bells. Her shoulders rolled along with the groove. A wide smile spread across her lips as she spun in a circle, thick wool socks slipping easily on the polished wood floor. This might even be one of my favorite adult Christm—

  Suddenly it was dark. And silent. Kate rooted her feet. Coming to a stop in the deep blackness, a wave of dizzy nausea crashed over her. What is happening? Her eyes adjusted slightly, enough to make out the shapes of the furniture. Cautiously, she made her way to the window, feeling around herself as she moved. The darkness consumed everything. No street lamps. No glimmering windows. Just the very dim light from the sky, already obscured by so many clouds.

  We lost power, she realized. There’s a blackout. In her shock, a giggle escaped her lips. It grew, became a full laugh. Laughter that consumed her. Kate’s laughter echoed through the empty house, filling it for a good minute before petering out. She blotted at the corners of her eyes, wiping the beginnings of tears that had formed there.

  Alright. Good. This is going to be the zaniest Christmas of my life. At the very least, I’ll get a good story out of it.

  Kate was nearly finished with the tray of Peanut Butter Blossoms when a knock sounded at the front door. She glanced at the glass bowl that held the last five or six kisses, almost gave in and finished the job right then, but succeeded in pulling herself away.

  They’re going to be cool soon, she thought as she sped toward the door. I’ll just take care of this fast and get right back. It’ll be—

  She pulled open the door and found herself toe-to-toe with Nolan. Her face froze. Biting wind nipped at her nose and cheeks, but she didn’t flinch. Just stood and stared. Waited.

  “Hi,” he said. If her face was blank, his wasn’t offering much more.

  “What?” she asked.

  “What?” he repeated back. Kate’s eyes flicked over to the tray that waited on the counter. She turned back to him with a hardened look.

  “Come in if you need to, but I’m doing something at the moment.” Turning on her heel, Kate marched back to the kitchen, leaving Nolan in the doorway. He quickly stepped inside and shut the door with a force that rattled the windows.

  “You know you can’t leave things like that open right now, right?” he asked. Kate only shrugged, already immersing herself in the task. Nolan followed, eying her with something harder than curiosity. More judgmental. “Alright. Then you know that you could catch hypothermia when y
our house looses all the heat it has stored? I assume?”

  “What are you doing here, Nolan?” she asked, her voice flat. “Should you not be with your family? Making sure they don’t catch a cold?”

  “Maggie is at her mother’s place. In California.” At this, Kate ventured a glance at his face. It was almost apologetic. “She’s been there for two days now,” he continued.

  “Ah,” she replied.

  “Look, Kate, I wanted to apologize.”

  “Oh?”

  “I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea, earlier.”

  “Ha!” she barked. Her voice was much louder than she’d wanted it to be, but oh well. Too late now.

  “It’s just that, I’ve recently gone through a divorce and my life is messy. I didn’t want to make you think…but I—“

  “Why are you here, Nolan?” Kate rooted her fists at her hips, staring up at him with frigid defiance. He seemed to wilt, just slightly, at her harsh look.

  “Because I wanted to make sure you were OK. And to apologize. And to tell you that, I guess, I don’t have many friends up here yet and I’d like it if we could be.”

  Her eyes raked over his tanned, nervous face. “If we could be friends?”

  “Pretty much.” He sighed, shrugged his shoulders. “That’s it. I’ll let you and your cookies be,” he turned, heading for the front door, “but if you need anything, really anything at all…”

  As he neared the door, a sharp shooting sensation pierced her chest. Before Kate could stop it, or second guess it, her voice came pealing out from her throat. “Do you have a fireplace?”

  Nolan stopped, turned back over his shoulder to cut through her with his honeyed gaze. A fluttering overtook the place in her chest where the shocking pierce had just been. This feeling was almost more confusing. “I do not,” he said.

  “Well,” she cleared her throat, “I do. Wood-burning. So if you were worried about the cold, maybe you should stay here.”

  One of his brows cocked up. “Do you want me to stay here?”

  I barely know myself. Just that I don’t want you to go back out there. Kate shrugged. “If you got sick, I’d feel horrible. Besides, you can help me build it and keep it stoked. It needs a lot of attention, actually, to keep it burning at a high intensity.”

  “The fire?” The beginnings of a smile, an almost boyish, mischievous smile, curved his lips. Kate flushed at his shift, at the way that his mouth sent shock waves through her.

  “Yes, the fire. Obviously.” She stalked further into the kitchen to retrieve a spatula. When she turned back, she found him watching her, still. “You can start building it, you know. Unless you don’t know how.” Kate took the utensil and began moving the cookies to the cooling rack. At the lack of her attention, Nolan shrugged off his coat. He hung it by the door and went to engineer the fire. Watching him out of her periphery, Kate started to feel much warmer. Almost…gooey.

  Lady, what did he just say? She had to snap her eyes closed, shake her thoughts back to reality. Once her mind had quieted, her heart had grounded back down, she opened her eyes and sighed. I guess we’ve got a new friend, then. Somehow the sentiment made her feel off. Hollow. Not a feeling she was willing to explore. New friend. Great.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “YOU DO NOT actually feel that way!” Kate squealed.

  Nolan nodded, his golden eyes so alive in the flickering of the fire, though not very convincing in the mock seriousness that he adopted now. “I hate it. Always have.”

  Kate snorted and took another bite of peanut butter and chocolate. “No kid hates Christmas unless they’ve had a seriously traumatic event tarnish it. Sorry, but I’m not buying it.” Leaning back against the base of the couch, she let the decadent flavors resting on her tongue carry her away.

  They’d spent the last half hour here on the ground, fighting the fire into existence. What had started as somewhat awkward, and very standoffish, had been easily remedied with a good bit of red wine and a whole lot of sugar. Now the living room was aglow with warm, golden light. So much like his eyes.

  With the heat blanketing her skin, the soft furry rug against her arms, and his eyes on her, Kate had started to feel loose. Soft. More comfortable than she should have. More comfortable than she’d normally consider safe. “Well, I love Christmas,” she replied. “Always have. My parents were big on the holidays, and even in the harder times of my life, it’s always been there. Nothing has ever been horrible enough, rough enough, whatever, to ruin Christmas.”

  “Mmm,” he nodded, quietly. “Well, I was never a big fan, but in the last few years it’s gotten worse. This year…” He trailed off. A chill rolled up Kate’s spine, perking her up straighter and angling her toward him, almost unconsciously.

  “This year?” she prompted, quiet.

  He nodded, tilting his head, watching the flames as they tapered, gave way to the air. He was speaking to Kate, but still seemed to be putting as much space between them as he could. “This is the first year that my girl is gone. Gone for the whole thing. Really gone.” He lifted a hand and rubbed at his jaw, stroking the hard line that made her stomach drop. “We’ve gone through separations before, all kinds. But it’s never been a state away. And it’s never been for the whole holiday.”

  Watching the somber pain consume his face, Kate’s eyes moistened. “So even though you didn’t like the holidays, you did Christmas for her?”

  “Oh, we do Christmas alright. We do Christmas big time.” Her lips spread into a smile, even as her heart ached for him. The idea of Nolan doing the holiday up just for Maggie was so cute. So sweet. Thinking about what a great dad he was only made her melt that much more. If she wasn’t so tipsy, that level of goop might have worried her. “Kate?”

  “Hmm?” She snapped back to attention at his sharp tone.

  “Can we do something else? Something, distracting?” The ghost of bittersweet pain still haunted his face, lingered behind his eyes. “I’d rather not focus on it right now, if that’s alright.”

  “Yeah. Yes!” Kate flew up to her feet, grabbing both of their glasses and the empty bottle as she went. She glided into the kitchen, feeling very loose, and started opening another bottle of wine. It’s good to have a task, she thought as she wiggled at the cork, and I could use a distraction too. “Do you want to like, do a physical activity?”

  Nolan was right behind her, now with both of his brows raised. “Physical activity?”

  Kate felt the color flooding her pale cheeks. She shoved his cup at him and took a swig from her own. When she swallowed and found him still eyeing her, she took another, much longer drink. Ohgodohgodohgod stop being awkward. I don’t even remember the last time I was alone with a man. Oh god, everyone is right about me. I’m that sad single woman who won’t cope with the past and now, for the first time, I’m making a connection with someone and it isn’t allowed to be hot. She swallowed her mouthful of wine with gusto and met his eyes again. The way they burned through her, coupled with the new infusion of booze, Kate felt more than a little bit unsteady. Oh god hot. Way way too hot.

  Nolan smiled down at her, a lopsided grin that made her chest clench and the place between her legs ache. Her breath caught. She wondered when he’d gotten so close. He parted his lips, eyes like embers, ready to cut in. Too hot.

  “Let’s go outside!” she yelped. Nolan took a small step back, letting the muscles in her body release their tension, just slightly.

  “You want to go out. Right now. In the snowstorm?” His incredulous tone spurred a smile across Kate’s face.

  “Mhm. Yup. That’s what I want.” She peeled herself away from him, racing over to the coat rack to throw on her jacket.

  “It’s freezing,” he replied.

  “So?” She zipped her coat straight up to her neck. “There’s a fire waiting in here. And we won’t be out long.”

  “And what will we be doing out there?” Even as the feigned skepticism remained steady in his voice, Nolan started to put on
his own coat beside her.

  “I don’t know yet,” she answered. “We could build a snowman?”

  He shook his head, a fast, sharp motion. “I’d rather not. That’s sort of—“

  “Oh!” Kate’s eyes went wide. No Maggie activities. OK. Adult activiti—NO. Platonic adult activities. “Snowball fight?”

  Nolan let out a loud, sharp laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “What?” she asked, trying to keep some of the offense out of her voice.

  “You, this sweet little soft-spoken woman who lets her customers flat-out insult her store to her face, you want to have a snowball fight.” He didn’t even lift his tone near the end. It wasn’t a question. Nolan looked at her with the veiled amusement that one usually reserved for children. In an instant, her gooey insides were but a memory. Her blood was boiling.

  “Boy, you have no. I. Dee-uh.” She took a step forward, bringing them chest-to-chest. At the look on her face, Nolan paled.

  “Woah, Kate, I was—“

  “You’ll see just how serious I can be soon enough.” A smile spread across her cheeks. The kind of smile that isn’t really a smile. That can send a chill through the thickest of skins. “Best put on your boots.” Kate winked, the action somehow dripping in menace, and started strapping on her own. I’ll show him who’s soft-spoken. Who’s weak. He’s going to be crying for his mommy once I’m through with him. Straightening up, ready for action, she was shocked to find Nolan watching her with warm, soft eyes. It was like he was looking right through her layers, to her core, to everything inside that—STOP IT, GIRL.

  Nodding curtly at the enemy, Kate ripped open the door and plunged into the icy inferno. Immediately she realized her mistake. The mistake of wanting to come out at all. If she didn’t get moving, her teeth would be chattering in seconds flat. Clocking Nolan’s approach over her shoulder, Kate ran across the yard to put more space between them. Once she was sufficiently far, she dropped to her knees and began packing snowballs. Even through her thick gloves, the cold numbed her fingertips. She worked diligently, the focus blocking out her spiraling thoughts, her mess of feelings. The grand confusion that he’d ushered into her day.