want Hope to miss.
HOPE packed away the elf costume and changed back into her jeans and a fuzzy sweater with pockets. She tucked Blake’s present inside one, running her fingers over the foil wrapping and soft ribbon. Her lips still tingled from kissing his cheek, and the fake beard had been soft, not scratchy as she’d said.
The whole day had been disturbingly perfect—a word she didn’t use often. But there wasn’t another word to describe the way she was feeling. Happy. Complete. Wonderful.
Perfect.
The only thing marring the perfection was knowing it was going to be over and tomorrow she’d be saying goodbye.
Anna was putting on her coat when Hope wandered back to the kitchen.
“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Anna asked. “To see you off?”
“I don’t leave until eleven,” Hope assured her, a heavy feeling settling in her stomach.
She really was leaving here tomorrow. On the one hand she was actually looking forward to seeing Gram and her sisters...and, if she were being honest, even her mom and dad, if what Faith said about them getting along was true. But on the other hand, she was going to be sad to leave. Only a little over a week ago she’d been determined to find a hotel and stay somewhere else. Now it was hard to imagine spending Christmas anywhere else.
As Anna’s car pulled out of the drive Blake came back in. It felt odd somehow, intimate, and with a layer of tension that was unexpected just by being alone together. He had his outdoor gear on again, and she wondered if he had late-night chores that needed doing.
“Bundle up,” he suggested, standing in the doorway. “Night’s not over yet.”
A strange sort of twirling started through her tummy as his gaze seemed to bore straight through to the heart of her. “It’s not?”
“Not by a long shot. I have something to show you. I hope. Meet me outside in five minutes?”
She nodded. It was their last night. She couldn’t imagine not going along with whatever he had planned.
When Hope stepped outside first she heard the bells. Once down the steps and past the snowbank she saw that Blake had hitched the horses to the sleigh again. It was dark, but the sliver of moon cast an ethereal glow on the snow and the stars twinkled in the inky sky. A moonlight sleigh ride. She’d guessed there was something of the romantic in him, but this went beyond her imagining.
The practical side of her cautioned her to be careful. But the other side...the side that craved warmth and romance and intimacy...the side that she’d packaged carefully away years ago so as to protect it...urged her to get inside the sleigh and take advantage of every last bit of holiday romance she could. It was fleeting, after all. And too good to miss.
Blake sat on the bench in the driver’s seat, reins in his left hand while he held out his right. “Come with me?”
She gripped his hand and stepped up and onto the seat. He’d placed a blanket on the wood this time, a cushion against the hard surface. A basket sat in between their feet.
Blake smiled. “Ready?”
Ready for what? She knew he meant the ride, but right now the word seemed to ask so much more. She nodded, half exhilarated, half terrified, as he drove them out of the barnyard and on a different route—back to the pasture where they’d first taken the snowmobile. The bells called out in rhythm with the hoofbeats, the sound keeping them company in the quiet night.
Neither said anything until they reached the ridge several minutes later. The foothills rolled in shadow, a palette of grays and blacks that curled up next to the mountains. Blake hooked the reins and reached down for the basket.
“We didn’t have a proper dinner, but if you can stand a few more cookies I can.” He opened a container with an assortment of sweets, and then took out two mugs and a Thermos. “And hot chocolate with a little extra something.”
He poured her a cup and handed it over, steam curling into the air with the rich scent of creamy chocolate. She took the cup in both hands, leaving her mitts on. At the first sip she grinned—he’d laced it with Irish Cream.
“Delicious,” she said, peeling off a mitten and reaching for a cookie. “And proper dinner is overrated anyway.”
The heat of the chocolate and the buttery richness of the cookies soon had her feeling warm and lazy, and she leaned back against Blake’s shoulder, looking up at the sky.
“The sky is so big here,” she whispered, staring at the carpet of stars. “Do you know that in Australia I don’t see the Big Dipper?” She angled her head so she was looking at his profile. “It’s like we don’t even see the same sky, Blake.”
The thought made her feel disconnected and lonely. It would have been nice to go home and at least think that maybe they were looking at the same thing, even though they were miles apart. But it was a foolish, romantic notion. The time difference didn’t even add up. It was the kind of thing Hope the romantic would have thought of when she was fifteen. Not the realistic Hope at thirty.
They sat in silence for a long time, gazing at the stars, sipping their chocolate, until Blake pointed toward the north horizon. “Well, you won’t see this in Australia,” he said, his voice holding a note of excitement. “Hope—look.”
She followed his finger and stared at the sky. “What am I looking at?”
“Give it another second...there. See it?”
The sky somehow shifted before her eyes. There was a swirling and a wash of white, like spilled milk, that suddenly caught edges of green and hints of yellow.
She sat up straight in the sleigh and stared. “Oh, wow! That’s the northern lights, isn’t it?”
“I hoped—with the moon not so full tonight and it being so clear and cold. You can’t always see them this far south. Up north, around Fort McMurray, they’re amazing. Bigger, more colors.”
“Oh, but this is amazing, too, Blake. Look at that.”
It was like the ripples of a blanket, all curves and shifts and soft hues. She was suddenly overwhelmed by it all—the sleigh, the picnic, the stars. It was like Blake was bewitched, able to take all the elements of a perfect winter night and hold them in the palm of his hand, releasing each one like a wish at his command. Even the Aurora Borealis. How did she stand a chance against such a man?
“I wish you didn’t have to go tomorrow,” he said, his voice low in his chest. “I wish you could stay for Christmas. Meet my parents. Have eggnog in your coffee Christmas morning and eat bacon and waffles and unwrap presents in your pajamas.”
“It sounds lovely,” she said wistfully, reluctantly drawing her gaze away from nature’s display. “But I promised Gram. And I need to see my family. I didn’t realize how much until I came here.”
“So your grandmother’s plan did work?” he commented, sipping his chocolate, which
