physical ones.”
“Plenty,” he whispered. “I’m far from perfect, Hope. I just try to stay on the positive side. To find joy in things.”
“But sometimes the heartache doesn’t allow you to trust in the joy,” she replied. “Because you know it could be ripped away at any moment.”
There was a long silence. Finally he lifted his hand and placed his palm along her cheek. “I look at you and I know that there are many ways to grieve without having experienced death. What are you grieving for, Hope?”
“When my friend Julie died...” She scrambled to put together the words, but he shook his head. His hand was warm, comforting on her skin and she bit down on her lip so it wouldn’t tremble.
“No, it’s more than that. There’s something else. Something you lost and never got back.”
She blinked and sidestepped away from his hand, away from his eyes. “Don’t,” she warned. “I told you when I first got here not to go all shrink on me, remember?”
“I just want to help.”
“Then leave me alone. Let me be, Blake, please. It’s been a good week. I took some pictures and got fresh air and I’ve relaxed. Just let that be enough, okay? In a few days we have the sleigh ride, and then I fly out to Boston.”
“For a family Christmas?”
“Yes. Let’s just chill for the next few days, okay? No more digging into our personal lives. I won’t if you won’t.”
She wanted to know more about him, but fair was fair. She couldn’t expect him to open up while she remained a closed door, could she?
There was a long pause, and then Blake’s shoulders dropped. “Okay.”
“Okay. Now, since you cooked I’ll tidy up. And this afternoon I’m going to start going through the pictures I have. Layout’s not my specialty, but I’ll put together a portfolio of shots you can take to a good designer.”
“I’ve got a few jobs to do, as well. I’ll be back by midafternoon. Maybe you can show me then.”
“That’d be good.”
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he shook his head. “All right. See you later.”
“Later.”
* * *
When she saw him again she was sitting at the table listening to the hum of the dishwasher, her laptop open before her. Her gaze caught a glimpse of a thick red hat above his black ski jacket. He wore heavy pants, too, and she gathered that whatever he was going to do it was going to be out in the bitter December weather. He’d be cold when he got back in. Maybe she’d make some cocoa to warm him up.
She shivered and turned back to her photos. Scratch the cocoa. After this morning she’d realized she was spending far too much time concerned about Blake’s welfare. She could still feel the gentle touch of his hand along the side of her face. Aw, hell. She was starting to care for him more than she was comfortable with. When he’d talked about his brother her heart had cracked just a bit, and she’d had the crazy urge to take him in her arms and comfort him.
Which made her just about as starstruck as the moms who gazed at him like he was perfection in a cowboy hat.
* * *
He’d seen it on their snowmobile ride, and now Blake trudged the last hundred feet into the barnyard, towing the toboggan behind him. The perfect Christmas tree—eight feet of spruce, perfectly tapered, just the right size for the vaulted ceiling in the family room—was sprawled over it. A good shaking to get the snow off, a couple of taps with the hatchet on the trunk and it would be ready for the tree stand.
He expected Hope would balk at the idea of putting up a tree, but he wanted it up for the Christmas party, and his parents would be arriving Christmas Eve. He gave the rope a hard tug and pulled the toboggan over a small snowbank. If she didn’t want to help decorate, that was fine. He’d done it by himself lots of times. Usually with a hockey game on in the background.
He’d seen the look of longing in Hope’s eyes this morning, though. Felt the squeeze of her fingers in his. She wasn’t as immune as she wanted him to believe. And everyone deserved to have a good dose of Christmas spirit. It didn’t have to go any further than that. Shouldn’t. No matter how attractive he’d found her.
No matter how much she’d surprised him by saying what she had this morning.
Her reaction to his face had been the worst, but now she was acting as though it didn’t matter anymore.
Well, fool me once, as the saying went. They were just words, after all.
But it didn’t change the fact that he sensed she was sad and wanted to cheer her up. He knew what it was like to be in that abyss. So he’d dig out the decorations and make the best of it.
He stood the tree on the porch and went inside, clomping his boots to get the snow off before disappearing into the basement to the storage area for the stand. When he came back up, Hope was looking down the staircase curiously.
“What are you up to?”
He held up the stand. “Christmas tree. Wanna help?”
Just as he’d expected, she took a step back. “You were out getting a tree?”
“Of course. After the sleigh ride we’ll have cookies and hot chocolate in here. The kids will expect a tree.”
He didn’t mention the second part of the plan—the part where he’d be dressing up like Santa Claus and needing an elf. He wanted to hit her with it at the right moment, and give her as little chance as possible to try and get out of it.
“Oh.”
She stepped aside, but he handed her the stand and bent to unlace his boots. He looked up as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a peg.
She looked awkward and uncertain, and he smiled on the inside. “Come on,” he prodded, nudging her through the door and toward the family room. “Help me move some furniture to make room.”
Together they rearranged the furniture that sat next to the fireplace by moving the sofa down a bit and shifting a heavy side table to the other corner, pushing it against a matching table so that it made one wide rectangular surface. Blake eyeballed the vacant space and put down the tree stand in the precise spot he wanted it.
“You loosen the screws and I’ll bring in the tree,” he suggested, and without waiting for her response went out on the porch in his stockinged feet and picked up the spruce.
Together they fit the tree into the stand, and he held it level while Hope knelt on the floor and tightened the wing nuts. When it was secure she stood up, and he stepped back, admiring. It was the perfect fit. The perfect amount of fullness except for one spot that was a little sparse. He turned that side toward the wall—problem solved.
“Oh, my gosh, that smells so good!” Hope exclaimed, brushing off her hands.
“Wait until we get lights on
