house, and Hope was relieved. At least that was what she told herself. But she was also disappointed.
She really did have to get out of here—back to Sydney and real life. It was far less complicated and way less painful—just the way she liked it.
Too bad she’d got the funny feeling that it wouldn’t be the same.
THE morning of the Christmas party Hope kept her laptop packed away and helped Anna with the preparations.
There was to be hot cocoa for the kids and hot spiced cider for the adults, as well as cookies and treats. While Anna went to work making iced shortbread, Hope donned a red-and-green apron and began making an old family favorite—Gram’s Chocolate Truffle Cookies.
She’d called for the recipe yesterday, and been shocked to hear that Grace was out doing something Christmassy with J. C. Carson. She’d wondered if J.C. would make it through the evening uninjured. She’d said nothing to Gram, though, who’d sounded satisfied at the whole thing. And neither of them had mentioned Hope’s parents.
She melted chocolate and then went to work on the dough, beating the butter and sugar while Anna hummed along with “Frosty The Snowman” on the radio as she spread icing on shortbread bells and stars.
Hope was up to her wrists in dough when Blake strolled in, cheeks ruddy from the cold and a smile on his face. “I think the sleigh is ready to go,” he said. “And what have we here?” His gaze traveled from Hope’s feet to her face. “In an apron? Surprising fashion statement, Hope.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Hope responded, rolling a spoonful of dough into a ball and placing it on a cookie sheet. “My grandmother’s Chocolate Truffle Cookies. To die for. Wait and see.”
“Full of surprises, hmmm?” he speculated, snatching a cookie from Anna’s freshly frosted tray. He bit into it and a smidgen of green icing remained on his lip.
Hope stared at it and swallowed. It would be tempting to remove it personally, but she’d sworn off that sort of thing and Anna was right there, after all.
“You’ve got a...” She pointed at her own lip and then watched, fascinated, as his tongue slipped out to swipe the sweet bit of frosting away.
“Thanks.”
She shrugged, rolling another cookie, filling the sheet. “Actually, I have an early present for you. Let me slip these into the oven and set the timer.”
“A present?”
She nodded, butterflies swirling around in her stomach. Why on earth was she nervous? But she was. She avoided his gaze as she washed her hands and dried them on a towel. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Anna, who merely nodded as she worked on piping a red outline on a star.
She only had ten minutes—enough time to give him the present, not enough for them to be alone together for too long.
She hoped.
* * *
Blake followed her down the hall and into her room—the first time he’d been inside it since that afternoon she’d arrived and he’d carried her bag upstairs. The bed was neatly made and her suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Her laptop sat closed on a side table, the mouse pad and mouse precisely lined up at a right angle beside it.
Her perfectionist streak manifesting itself again?
Clearly Hope was nervous. She could barely look at him, and her shoulders were tense. He smiled a little as he saw a smudge of cocoa on her apron. That had been a total surprise. Hope always seemed so put together, so... He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Untouchable, perhaps. Out of his league with her tall, elegant looks. Either way, baking cookies in an apron made her look different. Put them on the same level somehow.
Maybe she was starting to unbend just a little bit. He hoped so. If anyone needed to unwind and let go of tension it was Hope. He only wished he knew what had her so tied up in knots. It wasn’t just her friend Julie. He understood that now. She needed to grieve, and not just for her friend. But what? Why was she so demanding of herself?
She disappeared into the closet. She’d bought him a Christmas present and that surprised him—especially after the episode in the snow. She’d told him she didn’t have feelings for him. She was a damned liar, but he knew she didn’t want to have feelings for him and that essentially amounted to the same thing. Hands off. No matter what he was feeling in return.
Trouble was, he didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay, to see if what was between them was real. For the first time since he’d broken up with his ex he trusted a woman to see beyond the surface. It had all changed the day she’d touched his scar with a tenderness and reverence that had humbled him.
He wasn’t sure if he was in love with her or not, but he wanted the opportunity to find out. And he couldn’t do that if she left for good tomorrow.
“I hope these are what you were looking for,” she said, coming out of the closet carrying a gift bag very carefully as if what was inside was incredibly fragile.
He took the bag from her hands and heard a funny jingle. He opened the bag and peered inside. His heart gave a little catch. He reached in and pulled out a leather strap. The clear sound of bells filled the room.
“Cate said she wanted bells on the sleigh, so...”
He looked in her eyes. In the bright sunlight of her bedroom they were stunningly blue, full of hope and uncertainty. It hit him then. The professional manner, the precision and perfection—it wasn’t confidence. It was covering up a massive case of insecurity. Was she worried he wouldn’t like them? That they wouldn’t suit? There were so many more layers to Hope than he’d first thought. It touched him that she was so obviously trying to please him. That she’d bothered to find something so appropriate, so personal.
He slid the leather over his palm and smiled. “They’re perfect, Hope. Where ever did you find them?”
“In an antique store just outside Calgary,” she replied. “You’re sure they’ll work?”
“Oh, they’ll work. They’ll be perfect.” He looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Hope. It was very thoughtful of you to go to the trouble.”
She blushed. Color infused the crests of her cheeks much to Blake’s delight. The more she let go of the veneer she protected herself with, the more he liked her. Right now, with a bit of flour across the breast of her apron, her hair in a ponytail and a glow to her cheek, she looked adorable.
Was he actually considering a relationship, then? It would be a mistake to think that way. No matter how much he was starting to care for her, he knew she would never be happy here. Their lives were so different, and his first priority was the program.
She was right. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her. Too bad he couldn’t quite muster up an appropriate amount of regret.
“You’re welcome. I thought...I thought the kids would like them.”
“They will. They’ll make tonight
