too difficult...’
Too late it occurred to her that Ethan had never been able to resist a challenge. His eyebrows rose and suddenly the room seemed even smaller.
‘So you want to stay here?’
‘Yup.’
Determination solidified inside her—her ill-advised hormones would not govern her actions. This place was magical, and magical was what she wanted. Not just for herself, but for Ethan as well. Surely even his cynicism, his determination to treat Christmas as just another day, wouldn’t be proof against this chalet?
He gave so much—wanted to make a difference in the lives of Max and Tara and others teens like them. Maybe it was time someone tried to make a difference for Ethan. That darkness she’d sensed inside him a decade ago—the darkness that still remained despite the aura of success—she wanted to change that, to lighten him up with some magic. How could that be wrong?
That small, insistent voice at the back of her mind clamoured to be heard—warned her that he hadn’t wanted her help ten years before and he didn’t want it now. It was advice she knew she should heed—she didn’t know how to change people...never had, never would. So she should back off. Instead she met his gaze.
‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘I do want to stay here.’
Two days. It couldn’t harm.
His broad shoulders lifted. ‘Then so be it.’
The enormity of her own stupidity nearly overcame her. ‘Fabulous,’ she squeaked. ‘So let’s go and sample some of that Christmas coffee and gingerbread.’
And get out of the bedroom.
Repeating the mantra ‘We are professional’ under her breath, Ruby busied herself in the small kitchen area. Focused on the beautifully crafted pottery and the blue and white ceramic tiles as she made coffee. Inhaled its nutty roasted aroma and hoped it would defuse her disastrous awareness of Ethan.
Tray loaded, she headed to the lounge area. Flames crackled in the hearth and the sweet spicy scent of the logs infused the air.
Pouring out the coffee, handing out the gingerbread and lowering herself warily onto the sofa to avoid any form of thigh-to-thigh contact consumed all of five minutes.
The search for conversation turned out to be problematic. Ridiculous. Over the past days she and Ethan had spent hours in comfortable silence. Unfortunately right now comfort had legged it over the horizon into the alpine peaks.
Next to her Ethan shifted; she sipped her coffee as the silence stretched on.
This was madness—what had she been thinking? The ideal solution would have been to have let Ethan move them out of here. Here was the sort of place where couples came on honeymoon, cuddled in front of the flickering logs and cooed sweet nothings. Or the sort of place for a family holiday—a place where kids could build snowmen in the garden and sleep in that storybook bunk bed.
This must be anathema to Ethan, and yet he’d agreed to remain here. So the least she could do was come up with some conversation. A sideways glance noted that he looked brooding, one hand drumming on his knee almost as if he were waiting for something. Conversation, presumably.
‘So, if you go ahead here would you set up your own ski school, complete with equipment hire and guides? Or use an existing school and arrange for some sort of commission?’
‘They are both options I’ll consider. It depends.’
That seemed to cover that. She reached out for another piece of the spicy gingerbread—oh, so aware of the jiggling of Ethan’s leg, the tap-tap of his foot on the wooden floor. Silence reigned until Ethan put his coffee cup down with a clunk just as a jingling noise came from outside.
Turning, he cleared his throat. ‘Right on time,’ he declared, with a glance at his watch.
‘What is?’
‘Look out of the window.’ Rising, he gave a sudden smile, an odd mix of relief and trepidation in the tipping of his lips.
Despite the temptation to absorb the impact of that smile, she unsnagged her gaze from his mouth, rose to her feet and headed for the expanse of glass.
The breath cascaded from her lungs—outside on the snow-laden road was a horse-drawn carriage. Not any old carriage, either—this one was in the style of a sleigh, complete with large red and black wheels and a fur-hooded roof. The sturdy brown horse was adorned with a festive bridle, resplendent with images of Father Christmas, and a blanket in deep red and green. The driver was bundled in coats and a high fur hat and lifted a hand in greeting.
‘It’s amazing...’ Ruby breathed as she turned to Ethan.
‘I thought you might like it,’ he said, almost abruptly.
‘I don’t just like it. I love it! Thank you.’
For a second that seemed infinite he met her gaze and something flickered in his eyes—only to be doused as he scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
‘I thought it would have mass appeal if I were to offer high-end romantic Christmas breaks in the Alps.’
Wow—he couldn’t have made it clearer that this wasn’t personal. Hurt flashed across her ribcage...until she registered the slight croakiness to his tone, as if he were forcing the words out. She didn’t believe him. Ethan had done this for her—had chosen this particular activity with her in mind—she knew it.
For heaven’s sake.
She had to get a grip. Of course she didn’t know it—it was another case of believing what she wanted to believe. Just as she’d believed her parents would change—had taken any stray kind word and built it up into a pointless dream. Just as she’d trusted that Gary and Steve and Hugh would change for her. Each and every time she had been blind and foolish.
Not any more.
‘Let’s get our coats.’
* * *
Curse words streamed through Ethan’s brain—talk about acting like a class-A schmuck. What was he trying to prove? So what if he had chosen the itinerary with Ruby in mind? The whole point had been to give her a magical Christmas. To palliate the hurt of her Christmases Past—to do for her what she had done for Tara and Max and all those teenagers. There was nothing wrong with that—and yet panic continued to churn in his gut.
Deal with it, Ethan.
Sure, the last time Christmas had been magical for him had been when Tanya was alive. That magic hadn’t stopped his sister from leaving this life scant months later. But that had zip to do with Ruby, and he wouldn’t let his own past ruin this day for her.
‘Wait!’
Ruby swivelled round on one booted foot, her poise back in place, her initial happiness and subsequent hurt both erased.
‘Yes?’
‘I apologise. I’m not good at this whole Christmas scenario, but I don’t want this to be
