Christmas In Snowflake Canyon (8 page)

Was this what he had come to? Of all the assignments she might have found for him, why the hell would she put him to work hanging Christmas decorations with Genevieve Beaumont? Did she think he wasn’t capable of anything more?

He glowered as he carried a couple of the empty boxes outside to the porch to be hauled away later.

It didn’t help anything that when he looked at Gen, all he could see was someone beautiful and perfect, with a whole world of possibilities ahead of her. She might be going through a tough time right now—though, really, did she think dealing with her grandmother’s ugly house was the worst thing that could happen to a person?—but life would even out for her. Her parents would probably come around and she would return to Paris to her life of frivolity and fun.

He shoved a smaller box into another one a little harder than he’d intended and it ripped just as Genevieve returned to the porch with her arms full of evergreens.

“Sorry it took me so long but I tried to cut from the side of the trees that faces away from the recreation center and the cabins.”

“Won’t those turn brown before Christmas?” Even from here, he could smell them—tart, crisp, citrusy.

She frowned and looked down at the boughs in her arms. “My parents always have a fresh-cut wreath and it’s good from Thanksgiving until New Year’s. I think they should be okay for a few weeks, don’t you?”

With her cheeks flushed from the cold and her nose an even brighter pink, she looked fresh and sweet and not at all like the snobby bitch he wanted to believe her. She was also as unreachable as the Christmas star on top of the sixty-foot spruce in front of City Hall.

His stump ached suddenly from the cold and the exertion.

“How should I know?” he snapped, suddenly pissed at the whole damn world. “Do I look like a freaking expert on Christmas decorating?”

Her eyes went wide at his sudden attack, and her breath hitched in a little. He saw surprised hurt in her eyes for only an instant before she composed her lovely features into that cold, supercilious expression he was beginning to suspect she donned for self-protection.

“Sorry,” she answered, her voice icicle-cool. “My mistake. Forget I asked your opinion.”

She brushed past him on her way inside, stirring the air with the thick scent of pine mingled with the vanillaand-cinnamon scent that was hers alone.

He probably should apologize for his bad temper, but he decided to let things ride. Better she think he was a bad-tempered bastard.

“I’ll start opening the boxes in the next cabin over,” he said curtly.

“Fine.”

He might as well have been invisible for all the notice she paid him as she started arranging pine branches on the mantel.

After a moment, he turned and stalked down the sidewalk to the cabin next door.

He found the garland in the first box he opened. He should probably leave it for her to hang when she finished in the other cabin, but as he gazed down at the coil of intertwined thin ironwork stars of this one, he felt a ridiculous urge to atone somehow for hurting her feelings.

He picked it up and started draping it around the little tree, trying his best to imitate the artful way he had seen her hang the garland in the first cabin. It was harder than it looked, though he wanted to think he had done a passable job.

When she finally came in sometime later, her nose was a little pink, her eyes slightly swollen. She looked as if she had been fighting tears—or maybe even giving in to them—and his stomach felt hollow.

“I know. It looks terrible,” he muttered.
Not only that, but hanging the garland by himself hadn’t been nearly as enjoyable as decorating the other tree had been with both of them working together.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He could either be miserable and short-tempered or he could try to get along with her. They still had four-and-a-half trees to go. It didn’t have to be
complete
torture.

“I’m obviously not as gifted in this arena as you are,” he said gruffly.

“Few people are,” she said, voice smart as she stepped forward to reposition one section of garland.

She smelled delicious, he couldn’t help noticing again as she nudged him out of the way so she could move another loop of garland.

He had to stop picking up those things, he told himself.

She was the perfectly beautiful Genevieve Beaumont, pampered and adored princess.

He was…not.

“There. That should do it,” she said. “You had the basics down. Now it’s only a matter of finessing the details, see?”

In her naturally husky voice, the benign words sounded vaguely sexual.

“Yeah. I can see that,” he said. “That looks much better.”

She offered a hesitant smile and his heart gave a hard little tug.

Kissing her right now would be a really terrible idea. The worst. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? He shoved away from the wall. “Since you’re obviously better at this, why don’t you finish up here and

I’ll
go cut down some evergreens for this cabin and the others.”

“Can you—” she began then stopped. Could he what? Clip the branches? It would probably be a little harder than it should be, especially with only a pair of scissors instead of pruning loppers, but he didn’t doubt he could handle it.

“Yes,” he said firmly. He held out his hand and she handed over the scissors, still looking a little doubtful. He grabbed his jacket and waited until he walked outside to shrug into it and then headed toward the thick trees near the river.
He should have brought Tucker with him, he thought as he did his best with the scissors. The coon dog loved to be outside and adored any kind of running water. Sometimes he thought Tuck must have a little water dog in him, as much as he loved chasing skeeters in the little stream that trickled through Dylan’s land in Snowflake Canyon.

He stacked the boughs he cut next to a little snowcovered bench beside the groomed trail that ran alongside the river. After he cut what he gauged the appropriate amount of pine boughs for the remaining five cabins, he returned to the bench for the rest.

No rush, he thought. They would be decorating the rest of the day. He figured he deserved five minutes to himself after being around Genevieve all morning.

He used one of the pine branches to sweep snow off the bench and then sat in the quiet little woods, listening to the river’s music and the mournful wind in the treetops.

After only a few moments of peace, he heard the crunch of boot steps in snow and tensed, assuming Genevieve had come looking for him.

“It’s restful here, isn’t it?”

He jerked around at the male voice to find Spence Gregory walking toward him. So much for his mad special-forces skills. The ambush had taken more from him than several good friends and a few things he rather needed.

“Not bad,” he answered. “It’s a little cold this time of year for meditating on the meaning of life, but it will do.”

Spence smiled as he crossed the last few feet between them, wiped off snow on the other side of the bench and sat down. “Don’t you have some community service you’re supposed to be doing?”

He should probably be embarrassed to be caught slacking, but something told him Spence understood. If he didn’t, well, too damn bad.

“Just taking a breather. Genevieve wanted pine boughs to decorate the mantels.” With his thumb, he pointed to the pile beside him.

“Sorry. I wasn’t riding you,” Spence assured him. “How’s that working out? Genevieve Beaumont, I mean. I don’t know much about her, but Charlotte seemed to think she would try to wiggle out of her sentence after the first hour.”

He fought down his immediate urge to defend the woman, who had been working her butt off since they arrived. Just the fact that he
wanted
to defend her to his friend seemed wrong on multiple levels.

“She’s fine,” he said shortly. “I, on the other hand, am ready to poke one of those pointy star ornaments in my other eye. Come on, Spence. Can’t you find something else for me to do? This is a nightmare assignment.”

Spence gave a solemn look that didn’t fool Dylan for a second, especially when he caught that little gleam of amusement in his friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I tried, I really did, but Eden and Charlotte tell me decorating the cabins has to be the priority for now, at least until the new group arrives next week. After that, you’ll have plenty of other things to fill your hours.”

“Can’t wait,” he muttered.

He wasn’t looking forward to any of it. He suspected Spence and Eden and the rest expected him to magically bond with the other veterans, simply because they had a small thing in common. He wasn’t seeing it and really wished he could figure out a way to wriggle out of this whole thing.

“It should be fun,” Spence said. “We’ve got a great group coming in. A couple of marines and the rest are army. None of them has been on skis or snowboards before.”

He hadn’t been skiing since his accident. It ought to be interesting to see how he would do on the turns when he could only plant one pole. He saw a lot of right turns in his future.

“You’re wearing one of your prosthetics,” Spence said after a minute.

Not his favorite topic of conversation. “For now. The thing is a pain in the ass. Or stump, anyway.”

“How is your pain level these days? Charlotte worries about you.”

Something else he didn’t like to talk about. More than a year after the amputation, he had become used to the occasional phantom aches.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he would ever become accustomed to waking up each morning and seeing that empty space starting a few inches below his elbow.

“I’m fine,” he said, rising and scooping up the greenery in one motion. “I’d better take these back before Gen has to come looking for me.”

Spence gave him a curious look and Dylan realized using the shortened version of her name probably sounded far too familiar.

His friend said nothing, though, only nodded. “You probably don’t want to keep a woman like her waiting.” Dylan scooped up the branches and headed through the snow back to the cabins.

“S
o. what do you think?”
Several hours later, the pale afternoon sun filtered in through the cabin windows, illuminating the cheery scene inside—the decorated tree, the red and green ornaments she had hung on ribbons in the windows, the mantelpiece covered in some of the cut pine boughs with white pillar candles popping through as well as a few scattered gold stars and little twinkly lights.

He had just finished hanging more greens that Gen had shaped into a wreath and adorned with red ribbons and more of those glittery gold stars.

The mission furniture in this cabin featured simple oak and wrought-iron accents, sparely elegant lines and simple design. With the ribbons weaving through the entwined elk-antlers chandelier above the small dining room, every inch of the cabin seemed festive and welcoming, even to his untrained eye.

He looked around at all the work they had both done with an odd sense of satisfaction. “It will do,” he said. She was silent and he saw her face fall. “Oh,” she said.
He wasn’t quite sure why until he realized that what he considered pretty high praise—especially given that he expected most of the guys participating in A Warrior’s Hope would just be grateful for a comfortable bed—probably came across as faintly damning.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “You don’t need me to tell you the place looks great,” he said gruffly. “All six cabins are perfect. You did a good job.”

Color seeped into her cheeks. “Thanks. You were really a huge help, too.”

He doubted that. His job seemed to mostly consist of doing what he was told—hanging this ornament here, that ribbon there. He had to wonder what any of the guys in his unit would say if they knew he was putting up holiday decorations because of a bar fight over Christmas carols.

He hoped like hell they never found out.

“From here, it looks like the star on top of the tree is a little bit crooked,” he said. “I’ll see if I can straighten it out. Where’s that step stool?”

She tilted her head with a frown that made her look a little like a puzzled kitten. “Are you sure? It looks okay to me.”

“What do you mean? You don’t trust the opinion of the man with one eye?”

Her color deepened and she looked flustered. “I didn’t say that.”

“Where’s the stepladder? I’ll adjust the star, and if you don’t think I’m right, I can move it back where it is now.”

“Sure. Okay.”

She brought the small stepladder over. He climbed up and tweaked the star slightly, aligning the horizontal points until they looked level to him.

He stepped down again and went to stand by Genevieve. “Is that better?”

She tilted her head one way and then the other, then shifted to face him.

“You were right! It
was
crooked. Wow, that’s
tons
better.”

He had to chuckle at her reaction, as if he had just single-handedly—yeah, punny—saved Santa’s sleigh from enemy combatants.

“I do what I can,” he said modestly.

She smiled back at him and a subtle, seductive intimacy seemed to stretch between them, fragile and bright like those glass ornaments gleaming in the windows.

This wouldn’t do. He cleared his throat. “I guess that about wraps things up for our first day. Eight hours down, ninety-two something to go.”

“Oh, don’t remind me.” She looked daunted at the prospect of the hours stretching out ahead of them. He couldn’t blame her for that.

“Sorry. For now, you should focus on what we accomplished today,” he said. “More like what
you
accomplished. I’m sure everyone who stays here will feel welcome in Hope’s Crossing.”

She nudged his shoulder. “We did it together. We make a pretty good team, Caine.”

She smiled, soft and pretty, and a fierce need twisted in his gut. For hours, he had been working closely with her, had been trying not to be intoxicated by the cinnamonvanilla scent of her, had listened to that contralto voice talk about everything and nothing.

It was more than a guy could take. He wanted to kiss her. Right here, surrounded by all this holiday hoopla. He wanted to lick that sweet bottom lip, to trace his thumb over the arc of her cheekbones, to tangle his fingers in her hair… .

He gazed at her and the moment seemed to freeze like the river’s edge. It might have been the reflection of the lights from the tree—or maybe his overactive imagination—but he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes, something warm and almost…welcoming.

He leaned down an inch, not sure if he had the stones to take the chance and cover the rest of the distance between them. In the second or two while he was still trying to make up his mind, the door to the small cabin opened, sending a cold rush of air washing over him.

“Here you two are!”

Charlotte’s voice effectively shattered that crystalline moment. Gen eased away from him, color rising on her cheekbones.

Yeah. He was going to strangle his sister one of these days.

“Hey,” he said, trying for a casual tone.

Charlotte’s gaze slid between him and Gen, and he saw concern there before she quickly masked it. Great. He had just given her something else to worry about.

“I checked every cabin and finally found you in the very last one.”

“Funny. Seems like it might have made more sense to start with the one that had all the lights on.”

She made a little-sister sort of huff. “Yes, but that would have been too easy. Besides, this way I got to look at all the other cabins. I was amazed. They look fantastic! The real greenery was a fantastic touch.”

“Don’t look at me.” Dylan pointed to Genevieve. “It was her idea.”

“You cut down most of the branches,” Gen said, quick to give him credit where it certainly wasn’t due. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have had the first clue where to put them. That was all you.”
“I get it,” Charlotte cut in before Gen could add anything else. “It was a team effort. A great one. The cabins turned out better than I imagined—so good, in fact, I need to grab my camera and take some pictures for the website.”

“I can do that, if you want,” Genevieve offered. “Photography’s kind of one of my things. I have a highresolution digital SLR and a wide-angle lens that would really help capture the whole cabin.”

Charlotte made a face. “I have no idea what half of that meant, so I guess that indicates you’re far more qualified than I am to take pictures.”

“I can bring it tomorrow, if you’d like.”

His sister smiled. “That would be fantastic. In fact, if you don’t mind, why don’t you plan on bringing it with you every day while you’re here? We have a small digital camera and one of those GoPro cameras to capture live action when the guys are out on activities, but we could always use a few more photographs taken by somebody who knows what she’s doing to use on the website and in our brochures.”

“Sure. No problem.”

Charlotte took another look around the cabin, focusing on all the clever little touches Genevieve had incorporated.

“I can’t believe you’re already done,” Charlotte said. “I was afraid it might take the entire weekend to finish decorating all six of the cabins.”

Gen had been a bit of a taskmaster but he really hadn’t minded. “Does that mean we don’t have to come tomorrow?” he asked, only half joking.

Charlotte made another one of those sibling noises of disgust. “Nice try. You’re not getting off that easily. We have a million things to do before the new group arrives Monday.”

Yeah, he was afraid of that. While they had been working on these cabins, it had been easy to focus only on the task at hand, not the bigger picture.

“This wasn’t so bad, was it?” Charlotte asked.

“It had its moments,” he answered. Including the one she had interrupted before anything could really begin. “Are we done here?”

“Yes. Actually, that’s why I came looking for you, to let you know you could wrap things up and go for the day.”

“Great.” He grabbed his coat. “See you tomorrow.”

He suddenly had a fierce craving to be sitting by his fire with a beer and the quiet, undemanding company of his dog.

Genevieve watched Dylan rush off as if he couldn’t stay here in this small cabin another moment. His sister watched him, too, a little frown rippling her forehead.

He had obviously reached the end of his patience with her. She wasn’t sure how he’d endured her mindless chatter as long as he had.

He had almost kissed her. If Charlotte hadn’t interrupted them, Gen knew he would have. She wasn’t sure what she found more surprising, that he had thought about kissing her—or that she had wanted him to. For hours, she had been thinking about it, wishing for it.

This was completely ridiculous. She was crushing on Dylan Caine—shaggy, cranky,
damaged
Dylan Caine. He was the exact opposite of the sleek, polished men she usually dated. Men like Sawyer, who used to put almost as much care and attention into his wardrobe and appearance as she did.
Maybe that was what drew her to Dylan, that he was so very different from her norm. He had done things she couldn’t begin to imagine. He was tough, hard. Genuine. Unlike Sawyer, who had dreams of following in his father’s congressional aspirations, Dylan was the sort of man who could never be a politician because he would say just what he thought, to hell with the consequences.

“Is he always so…abrupt?” she asked his sister now.

Charlotte watched after her brother. “I can’t believe he made it this long, if you want the truth. I honestly thought he would be climbing the walls after the first hour. Was he a bear all day?”

Gen thought of that moment when he had stomped outside to gather more pine boughs. He had been gone a long time, so long she had been ready to go search for him in case he’d fallen in the river, when he returned with his arms full of greenery. After that, he had been more relaxed and comfortable, as if those few moments out in nature had centered him or something.

“He had his moments,” she said. “I think mostly we managed to tolerate each other. He let me jabber on about whatever, inanities, really, though every once in a while I let him slip into those brooding silences of his.”

His sister gave a surprised-sounding laugh. “How thoughtful of you.”

Gen shrugged. “I figured it was the least I could do for a returning war hero and all.”

When Charlotte laughed again, Gen wanted to bask in the warmth of it. She liked the other woman. In their interactions that day, she had been kind to her, even though Gen could tell she had great reservations about Genevieve’s ability to contribute to A Warrior’s Hope.

As far as she remembered, Charlotte had never been outright rude to her but she was usually cool—probably because Genevieve had never been particularly nice to her.

She thought of Natalie suddenly and the gulf between them now and felt a wave of loneliness. She had a few close female friends in Paris and she missed them fiercely.

She pushed it away. Once she straightened out her life and sold the house, she could return to Paris and her friends there.

“The problem is,” Charlotte answered thoughtfully, “I think we’ve all indulged those brooding silences for too long, until now Dylan is more comfortable with his own company than engaging in polite conversation. He prefers to hide away at this dilapidated old cabin up in Snowflake Canyon where he doesn’t have to talk—or
listen—to
anyone.”

Gen didn’t want to contradict his sister but she wasn’t sure that was true. When she thought about it, Dylan seemed to want her to keep talking. In a strange sort of way, he had almost seemed…soothed while he listened to her ramble on about living in Le Marais: her favorite candlelit bistro, the pâtisserie she loved, the best museums.

When she ran out of things to talk about and lapsed into silence while they worked, he would target a wellplaced question about other countries in Europe she had visited, people she knew there, her plans for Pearl’s house, and she would start up again.

Her throat hurt from all that talking, but she was pretty sure he had enjoyed listening to her more than he probably would admit. He had smiled several times and had even chuckled a time or two at one of her stories involving her elderly neighbor and the very large dog who shared her very small flat.

“I’m really hoping that being forced to work at A Warrior’s Hope will, I don’t know, help drag him out of himself, you know?”

Again, she didn’t want to contradict his sister after really only a day spent in the man’s company, but she knew a little about interfering family members. “I’m sure you have good intentions and want to help him. But really, if he enjoys being on his own in Snowflake Canyon and isn’t hurting anybody by it, that’s his call, isn’t it?”

Charlotte blinked a little and Gen wished she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want to ruin any chance she might have of a friendship with Charlotte. After a moment, the other woman’s expression turned pensive.

“That’s exactly what he says.”
“He should know, don’t you think?”
“I suppose you’re right. I just can’t imagine he’s happy up there.”
“Again, his call.”
“You might be right,” Charlotte said. “It’s never easy watching someone you care about make choices you can’t accept are good for him.”

Was that how her parents felt? Were they acting out of a position of concern and not manipulation? She wasn’t quite ready to accept that yet.

“Do you have a place to store all these empty boxes?” she asked.

“I was going to have a couple of the guys carry them back to the storage room in the main building, but we might as well take care of it. Do you mind helping me haul them back before you take off?”

“The carts should be down here somewhere. We can probably get them all in one trip.”

Together, she and Charlotte loaded the empty boxes onto the two utility carts.

“Thank you again for all your hard work,” Charlotte said after they pulled the carts back to the recreation center and stacked the empty boxes in the storage room.

She had accepted early in the day that her sweater was likely ruined. It was too bad, too, as it was one of her favorites. She supposed that served her right for ever being silly enough to think she could wear peach cashmere to work.