Christmas In Snowflake Canyon (15 page)

I
f he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.

While he did his best to make conversation, fighting the urge to escape to his canyon retreat with every breath, Genevieve held court in the corner. She seemed to have charmed just about everyone who had come in contact with her. Every time he turned around, the group was laughing. More often than not, Gen was in the middle of it.

He wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. He supposed he should have expected it from a socialite like her. When she put her mind to it, she could probably charm whomever she wanted.

He wasn’t sure what switch had been flipped after about the first ten minutes of the gathering, when she had stood in the corner looking awkward and immensely uncomfortable, but now she seemed relaxed and outgoing.

The more she relaxed, the more his tension escalated. For a guy who had lived as a virtual hermit for months, all this socializing left him as edgy as his chickens in a windstorm.

He was wondering how much longer he had to stay when his sister came over with a plate of appetizers she handed him.

“I haven’t seen you eating anything. You’ve got to be hungry, aren’t you?”

“Not really.”
“Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Apparently she had inherited the need to feed from their father, who was never happy unless he was cooking up something delicious. He knew she wouldn’t let up until he took the plate, so he gave in to the inevitable, even though he felt stupid propping the plate in the inside crook of his left elbow. He had worn one of the prosthetics today. While it could be useful for some tasks, holding a small appetizer plate wasn’t among them.

“Thanks for helping with all the airport pickups today. Spence said you were a great help with loading all the luggage.”

“I don’t recall being given much choice in the matter. Spence basically told me to get my ass in the van.” “You could have stayed here and helped Genevieve decorate, since you’re so good at it now.”
He glowered at her. It was a good thing he loved her.

She would be annoying as hell otherwise. Genevieve’s throaty laugh sounded from the corner, easing through him like a sultry jazz saxophone.
He turned, almost against his will, remembering the magic of having her to himself the night before, that voice soothing him.
That kiss that had left him aching and hungry. “She’s turning out to be rather a surprise, isn’t she?”

Charlotte said, following his gaze.
“Why do you say that?” he said, his voice gruff. He was really, really grateful his sister couldn’t read his mind right now.

“You know what Laura Beaumont is like,” Charlotte said with a shrug.

“Not really. I haven’t lived in Hope’s Crossing in years.”

“Don’t you remember how exacting she used to be when she would come into the restaurant when we were kids? She demanded perfection. I can remember once when I worked at the diner one summer during college, she made me fix the same Cobb salad three times. Each time, something stupid was wrong. The croutons weren’t crisp enough, the tomatoes were wilted, the onions tasted off.”

She grinned suddenly, looking young and mischievous, a rarity for a girl who had grown up too quickly after their mother’s death. “Here’s something funny. The fourth time, I just rearranged the very same salad she had just turned up her nose at and took it back to her table, and she declared it perfection, finally.”

“Oh, man. I hope Pop didn’t catch you doing that.”

“No. He would have been livid about not giving the customer what she wanted. I never did figure out how he could always be so tolerant of her fussiness.” She paused. “But then, that’s Pop for you. He’s entirely too patient when it comes to some people.”

By the pointed way she said that last part, he was guessing she meant him. True enough. He hadn’t made things easy on their father.

“Anyway,” Charlotte went on, “during the process of planning her wedding, Gen gained a reputation in town as basically being a carbon copy of her mother. Nothing was ever good enough for her. My friend Claire, who owns the bead store, was charged with hand-beading the bodice of this incredible wedding gown Genevieve ordered from a designer back East. It took months for Genevieve to agree on the pattern and then more months for Claire to get it just right in her eyes. And then, of course, she had to do it all over again after Genevieve’s brother and some other teenagers vandalized Claire’s store and destroyed it.”

He vaguely remembered hearing something about that in connection with a tragedy that had affected the town some years ago during his second-to-last deployment.

“I’ll admit, I don’t know her well, especially since she’s been gone the last few years, but she has always struck me as someone who demands perfection,” Charlotte went on. Though she didn’t give him that same pointed look, the implication behind her words was obvious.

Perfection didn’t come in the form of a broken-down ex-soldier who could barely hold an appetizer plate.

“She’s different somehow. Not what I imagined,” Charlotte went on. “She’s worked really hard since she’s been here. She spent all day today decorating this place by herself. She even brought a lot of supplies with her, things she must have prepared ahead of time. I would never have expected that.”

He remembered their kiss the night before, her soft, eager response, the silk of her hair sliding through his fingers.

As far as he was concerned, that had been as close to perfection as anything he had known. Hot and sweet at the same time. He had been awake most of the night, staring at the flames in the fireplace and wishing things could be different.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?”

Though diminutive, Eden Davis could really project her voice. Everybody looked up, even the kids who were playing in a corner with some toys someone—probably Charlotte—had provided.

“It’s been a long day for everyone and I’m sure you would like to relax a little in your cabins for a while before dinner. Your bags should be waiting in your assigned lodging. A staff member will show you the way and help you settle in. The plan is to meet back here at seven for dinner. I promise, you’re in for a treat. One of the premier restaurants in this area is providing the meal for you tonight. Brazen is fantastic. It’s got phenomenal reviews. I know you’ll enjoy it. So we’ll see you back here just before seven. Bring an appetite. Could I have all the Hope’s Crossing staff up here for a moment?”

Dylan didn’t consider himself staff but Charlotte grabbed his elbow and basically dragged him forward. Eden quickly started handing out assignments and instructions.

“Dylan, do you mind helping Trey to his cabin? Genevieve, will you escort Joe and Tonya and their girls?” Genevieve nodded, though he could tell she was uncomfortable at the prospect. It couldn’t be the wheelchair, since she had been completely at ease with Trey.

What made her uneasy?
The youngest little Brooks girl beamed up at Genevieve and reached for her hand. After a long pause, she took it, though with obvious wariness. He nearly chuckled. Of course. She wasn’t used to kids. In her perfect little society world, she probably hadn’t had many interactions with children.

That was one area where he, on the other hand, was completely at ease. Coming from a big family with an overabundance of nieces and nephews had given him plenty of experience with kids.

He almost offered to trade assignments with her and then changed his mind. The corporal didn’t need more opportunities to fall head over heels—or wheels, in this case—for Gen.

He approached Trey, who was chatting up Chelsea, the office manager.

“Guess you get to be my tour guide,” Trey said. “Yeah,” Dylan said.
“I’ll see you later, Chelsea,” the kid said.
She waved and Trey started wheeling toward the door that led to the cabins.
“You need help or anything?” Dylan asked.
“Naw. Just hold the door and point me in the right direction.”
“Left,” he said.
Trey wheeled outside and headed in the direction of the cabins.
“Man, it’s gorgeous here,” he said. “Only mountains

I’ve seen this big were the Hindu Kush, and they weren’t nearly this pretty.”

“Except in springtime,” he answered.
“No shit.”
Trey was silent as they moved toward his cabin, the closest to the recreation center. It was the first one he and Genevieve had decorated together.

“Smoke Gregory said you were a ranger. You lose your hand in Afghanistan?”

He wanted to tell the kid to mind his own damn business, but he didn’t have the heart to stomp on all that open friendliness. More power to the guy for not letting bitterness eat away at him.

“Helmand Province. Twelve-year-old insurgent with a suicide pack.”

“Oh, man. That’s rough. Kandahar for me. Firefight. Got hit by three rounds. My battle rattle stopped most of it but I caught one in my spinal column just below my flak.”

Bad business, there. He wondered how Trey was coping, but that wasn’t the kind of thing guys asked each other outside group therapy or something.

“Rehab’s a bitch, am I right? I do the exercises, but six months later, I don’t know how much good it’s doing. My left leg still works but it’s weak. At least I can walk with crutches when I have to. The other one might as well be fake, all the good it does me. Sometimes I think a fake leg might even be better. I could put weight on it then, you know?”

“Flesh and blood is better than a prosthetic any way you slice it. So to speak,” he muttered.

Trey chuckled as he wheeled up the ramp. “I’ll take your word on that.”

Dylan helped him with the door and made sure all his luggage was inside waiting for him.

“There’s food in the lower cupboards. Should be within reach.”

“Thanks.”

He felt a little bad about leaving the kid here by himself, especially where everybody else had some kind of family or loved one for support.

“Anything else you need before I take off?”

Trey shook his head. “I should be good. Thanks.” He paused. “This is a nice thing you’re doing here.”

“Not me,” he said, quick to disabuse him of any idea to the contrary. “Charlotte, the bossy blonde, is my younger sister and Smoke is an old friend. They dragged me along. I’m only here because I’m doing community service.”

Trey looked first surprised and then amused. “No kidding? Seems to be an epidemic of that around Hope’s Crossing.”

“You must mean Genevieve. We were arrested together.”

“Same bar fight?”

He relived that fateful punch and almost laughed out loud. The more he came to know Genevieve, the more funny and completely out of character that moment seemed.

“Yeah. And the same crooked defense attorney— who also happens to be my older brother—arranged this plea deal for us both.”

“Doesn’t matter why you’re here, I suppose. It’s still a good thing. And I’ve got to say, Hope’s Crossing might turn out to be more interesting than I expected.”

“It has its moments,” Dylan answered. “See you later.”

“’Bye.”

Dylan headed out into the afternoon sunlight that reflected diamonds in the snow, his mind still on the conversation.

Trey might be young and fairly wet behind the ears but he was right about one thing. There was more to Hope’s Crossing than some pretty storefronts and a gorgeous setting. There was pain and sorrow, humor and grace.

He had spent his time since returning to town hiding away in Snowflake Canyon, content to be alone in the mountains. While he was busy feeling sorry for himself and thinking his world had ended, others in similar circumstances had somehow managed to move forward. He had to wonder what they had figured out that he hadn’t yet.

“I’ll tell you what A Warrior’s Hope needs most. A hot tub.”

Genevieve issued her heartfelt declaration to Eden Davis, riding alongside her on a big chestnut mare. They were bringing up the rear of the large group heading up a trail to visit what was supposed to be a spectacular iced-over waterfall.

She looked up the trail, overhung with pines on either side that randomly dropped cold little clumps of snow on them.

“I mean, this is beautiful, magical, a winter wonderland. Yadda yadda yadda,” she said to Eden. “I just have to think, if I’m aching this much after a morning cross-country skiing and a half hour on horseback, how much worse must some of the guys feel?”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Eden rotated her shoulders, looking cute and still perky, her cheeks rosy beneath a shiny white Stetson she had probably purchased new just for today’s outing. “A hot tub is definitely on the list. We can always use the hot tubs inside by the pool when we get back to the recreation center, but I would really like a few outside. After our first session in early fall, I wrote a grant for a couple. We have the funding, but the ground froze before we could run the electricity for the project. That will be first priority when the snow melts, I promise.”

That wouldn’t help Genevieve. Not when she needed one
now—and
they still hadn’t reached their destination. Then she had the whole ride home to endure.

Every single muscle in her body ached, right down to her fingers from gripping first telemark poles and then the reins—not to mention priming her dining-room walls long into the night.

She wasn’t a completely inexperienced rider. Her mother had insisted on lessons even though Gen hated heights and had always been uncomfortable on horseback. Her horse today was quiet and good-tempered, with a soft, easy gait that would have made riding her a joy if Genevieve hadn’t already been stiff from her other activities that day and the night before.

She was achy enough that she was almost tempted to drive to her parents’ house after her day ended here at the foundation to soak in theirs.

“It’s been a fun day, though, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. I think everyone enjoyed it so far,” she answered. That morning, they had left early to go crosscountry skiing on the groomed trail that ran beside the river and up into U.S. Forest Service land.

The guests of A Warrior’s Hope seemed to have all enjoyed it, especially when they skied around a bend and spied a huge moose standing in a hot springs across the way, steam rising up around him and moss dripping from his antlers.