Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) (17 page)

“It feels like old times. Especially now, having you with us.” Seeming oblivious to the tension, Lindsay hooked her arm through Eliza’s and flashed Ami a sunny smile. “The three of us always had such fun together.”

Beck’s eyes met Ami’s and she saw the puzzlement in his gaze.

“Yes, well.” Eliza shifted from one polished boot to the other. “That was a long time ago.”

“I’ll let you ladies—” Beck began, but Eliza didn’t let him finish.

“How’s the main floor coming?” The dark-haired beauty narrowed her gaze. “You realize the Victorian home tour is this Friday.”

“Is it?” Beck’s mild tone had Eliza’s eyes flashing.

“People will expect to see the inside decorated for the holidays,” Eliza pressed. “I don’t recall seeing Christmas lights on a tree.”

Beck flicked a glance at his wrist. “Actually, I’m headed home now to trim the tree. It was delivered Friday afternoon.”

Eliza’s gaze shifted to Ami. “You should help him. You know the level of decorating the community expects.”

Ami opened her mouth but Beck beat her to it. “She’s out with her friend this evening.”

“I’ll keep Lindsay entertained.” Eliza glanced at her friend. “Okay with you, Lin?”

“Sure.” Lindsay smiled amiably and gave Ami a little push in Beck’s direction. “You two
friends
have fun.”

“I know you’ve put in long hours today, so,” Beck said to Ami, shooting a censuring glance in Eliza’s direction, “there’s no obligation.”

Based on the pointed look Eliza sent her, Ami knew that the executive director of the Cherries considered helping Beck get his house ready for the tour very much an obligation.

“I’d love to help,” she told Beck, then turned and gave Lindsay a hug. She held her friend tight for an extra second, vowing to hold this precious gift of friendship equally tight. “It’s been fun.”

“We’ll do it again.” Lindsay smiled at Eliza. “Next time with the three of us.”

“That was strange,” Beck remarked moments later as they climbed the steps leading to his front porch.

Ami could feel Eliza’s eyes on them. She was seized with the unladylike urge to turn around and stick out her tongue as Beck unlocked the door. What kind of luck was it that Eliza’s store was directly across the street from Beck’s house?

Keeping her tongue inside her mouth, she stepped inside.

Beck pulled the door shut behind them. “I didn’t realize you three were such good friends.”

Ami caught the curiosity in his tone.

“Lindsay and I were once pretty close.” Even as she said the words, Ami felt a stab of guilt. If anyone had pushed back from their friendship, it had been her. “Eliza was always more Lindsay’s friend than mine.”

Which, while also true, didn’t negate the fact that she and Eliza had once laughed and talked and enjoyed each other’s company. Now that they were both Cherries and business owners they should have had a lot in common. Yet they’d never been further apart.

Lindsay’s acceptance had shown her it was possible to move on. While Ami would never stop regretting her actions of that long-ago night, she didn’t have to let the past define her present and future. But first she needed to come clean with Beck about her past.

Then, depending on his reaction, they could move on. Or not. At least there would be no more lies between them.

She was deciding how to best broach the subject when Beck paused in the foyer and held out his hand.

As she gazed at those outstretched fingers, erotic memories rushed forward, swamping her.

“May I take your coat?” he asked when she only continued to stare.

She handed him her jacket and gave a husky chuckle. “The last time you held out your hand to me, you wanted to take me to bed.”

A look she couldn’t quite interpret flared in those dark eyes. “It would be presumptuous to assume just because we did it once—”

“Once?” Ami arched a brow. “I seem to recall a time in the shower. And then in the kitchen . . . And that just covers Wednesday night.”

“Good point.” His lips twitched. “There’s another factor to consider. Eliza will be keeping a keen eye on my front window, waiting to see when the Christmas tree lights turn on.” He hung her coat next to his. “If she sees—”

“—your bedroom light go on instead, she’ll know the decorating plans likely got sidetracked.” Ami grinned. “She’d be right.”

“I know you’ll say you don’t care what she thinks.” His voice lowered and he brushed a wisp of hair back from her cheek with gentle fingers. “I don’t want her spreading gossip about you.”

“I don’t care.” Ami stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want you.”

A pleased smile lifted his lips. “I want you, too.”

His low voice brushed against her heart like a caress.

Beck kissed her softly, then stepped back, forcing her to release him. “I believe it’s possible to have the evening we want and appease Eliza at the same time.”

After flicking on the parlor lights, he strolled to the tree, a beautifully shaped fir that nearly touched the ceiling.

Reaching into a box, he pulled out a string of lights. With quick, deft movements, Beck untangled them, then wrapped the tiny bulbs around the middle part of the tree and plugged them in.

The brightly lit fir sat in front of the window, ensuring the lights would be clearly visible through the lace curtains.

“I’d say we worked long enough on the tree,” Beck announced. “It’s time for a break.”

With her fingers clasped in his warm, comforting grip, they climbed the steps to the second floor. While Beck busied himself lowering the privacy shades in his sitting area and adjacent bedroom, Ami lit candles and kept her gaze fixed on him.

The angular lines of his face seemed softer in the candlelight, and his dark hair shimmered like fine mahogany. In such a short time, he’d grown so familiar, so dear.

It was odd that when she least expected it, Mr. Right—complete with a southern accent and a kind heart hidden under a sometimes gruff demeanor—had dropped into her life.

When Beck motioned her closer, her heart flip-flopped. This man was everything she wanted, and she appeared to be what he wanted, too.

Would he still want her once he knew her secret? Before they made love, she needed to come clean.

Ami was forming the confession in her head when his warm mouth closed over hers, scrambling her thoughts.

He enfolded her more fully in his arms, his tongue sliding across her lips. When she opened her mouth to him and he possessed her fully, all rational thought vanished.

Tonight, she would show him how much she loved him.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell him the truth. This time, the whole truth.

C
hapter
S
eventeen

When the doorbell rang Monday evening, Beck knew who’d be on the other side of the door. Max had called earlier that afternoon and asked if he wanted to go to a fundraiser for Cory White at the Flying Crane. Beck offered to meet his friend at the bar, but Max insisted on swinging by the house after he left the office.

“You have a Santa in your yard.” Max held the door open and gestured with one gloved hand toward the slope of the snow-covered yard.

Beck ignored the comment. “In or out, Brody. I’m not paying to heat the outside.”

With a smirk, Max stepped into the foyer. “Seriously, man, you’ve been pranked.”

“It’s not a Santa Claus, it’s Father Christmas.” Beck reached for his coat and slipped it on. “The antique dealer from Sturgeon Bay tossed him and the reindeer in with the other stuff he loaned me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The furniture, rugs, and pictures for the main level are all on loan,” Beck explained. “Which you’d know if you weren’t out gallivanting around the country.”

“Hey, I had to help Granny get settled in her new retirement home. I even got her tree up before I left.”

“Good for you. Mine is up, too.”

“
You
put up a tree?”

“It’s Christmas, Max. And with the Victorian home tour this weekend—”

“Don’t tell me Beckett Scrooge Cross is participating in a community event.” Max put a hand over his heart and pretended to stagger back.

“It’s good for the economy. The tour brings people into the area.” Beck tossed the words over his shoulder as Max followed him onto the porch.

Max grinned. “I recall saying those same words to you and having my head bit off.”

“Your big head looks intact to me.”

Max laughed and two women walking by the house paused to smile and wave.

Beck didn’t know them but nonetheless lifted a hand in greeting.

The second he stepped off the porch, a blast of north wind slapped his face. The schizophrenic weather had gone Nordic, with the pleasant temperatures of the past few weeks only a distant memory. His southern blood recoiled against the cold and Beck shivered.

Walking briskly helped some, but he could have cheered when the bar came into view. As they drew closer to where the Flying Crane sat overlooking the bay, sounds of music and laughter filled the frigid air.

Max cast an assessing glance in Beck’s direction. “You look different.”

Beck didn’t respond. He’d learned early on that the accountant loved to hear himself talk and that responses to 90 percent of what Max said were optional.

“I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.” Like Beck, the CPA was dressed casually for the evening in jeans, boots, and a sweater, topped by a coat.

Back in Bogart, most of the fundraisers Beck attended were black tie and held at one of the many country clubs in the area. He already knew this one would involve a live band, lots of beer, and music loud enough to perforate eardrums.

“Seriously, there’s something different.”

Okay, three times saying the same thing demanded a response. Or else knocking Max out, and that wasn’t really an option.

“I recently had my hair trimmed.”

Max assessed the hair brushing the top of Beck’s collar. He shook his head.

“It’s not your physical appearance,” Max said finally. “It’s . . . you. You seem happier.”

“It’s Christmas. Ho-ho-ho.”

Max grinned at Beck’s feeble attempt. “The incidence of depression soars at this time of year.”

Beck didn’t need Max to remind him of that; he’d lived that statistic last year. His first Christmas without Lisette. His parents had tried to make the holidays nice, but seeing his brother kiss his wife and toss his giggling baby into the air had sliced like a knife to the heart.

“Things are good,” Beck said simply. “Business is booming at the café.”

“I hear you and Amaryllis Bloom have been seeing each other.” Max religiously read the
Open Door
e-newsletter and had his finger on the pulse of the community.

For one moment of horror Beck wondered if he and Ami had been mentioned in the tabloid rag. He immediately dismissed the thought.

“Ami is part of the Cherries. She’s been helping me get my home ready for the tour. She’s also cooking at the café on the weekends.”

“She’s an attractive woman.”

Beck turned to his friend. “Your point?”

“No point.” Max’s expression remained bland. “I’m just happy to hear you’re becoming more involved . . . in the community.”

Beck responded by grunting and jerking open the battered wooden door of the bar. As he’d predicted, the noise was deafening. While a few couples danced, the majority of patrons stood—or sat—with drinks in their hands, trying to be heard above the pulsating bass.

The glossy mahogany bar took up an entire wall. A long mirror made the average-size bar appear huge. High tin ceilings, while aesthetically pleasing, had sound reverberating like a speaker on steroids.

From young college students barely old enough to legally drink to weathered fishermen who’d seen a half century on a boat, the eclectic crowd had one thing in common tonight: red-and-white Santa hats.

“Hey.” Max tapped a fisherman with a white beard on the shoulder. “Where’d you get the hat?”

The man raised his voice and gestured with his head toward the back of the bar. “They’re selling them to raise money to help one of the teachers at the high school.”

“Beck. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

He turned and saw Hadley holding a tray of dirty glasses. She wore the bar’s standard uniform, a black T-shirt displaying the Flying Crane logo in eye-popping red with a black skirt showing miles of toned legs.

“I didn’t know you worked here.”

“You know what they say about idle hands.” The pretty blond laughed. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a beer; whatever you have on tap,” Beck said.

Max stared at Hadley with blatant interest. “You work with Ami at the bakery.”

“I do.” Her voice was pleasant but distant. “What can I get you?”

“Same.” Max offered the woman an engaging smile, but she didn’t appear to notice.

As Hadley moved to a nearby table to take another order, she called to Beck over her shoulder. “If you’re looking for Ami, she’s in the back.”

“Does Blondie have a boyfriend?” Max frowned as he watched Hadley toss her long, curly hair and flirt with a man old enough to be her father.

“I don’t know.” Beck spoke absently, wondering if he’d be able to convince Ami to come home with him tonight. Though he’d seen her this morning, that had been hours ago.

“She doesn’t seem interested in me.” Max sounded surprised. “Not at all.”

“You’re right about that.” As Beck pushed his way through the crowded bar, he noticed a pack of obviously intoxicated young men in ball caps standing near the bar.

He shot a censuring glance at the bartenders. Didn’t they realize they were putting the entire community at risk by serving people who’d already had too much?

Hadley rushed past him and he grabbed her arm.

“Hey, don’t touch the—” She stopped when she saw it was him. “You want to change your order?”

“Those guys over there need to be cut off,” he said without preamble. “Also make sure they’re not driving.”

The blond followed his gaze. She studied the threesome for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

Satisfied, Beck resumed weaving his way to the back of the bar. He lost Max when they ran into a pretty, dark-haired woman with startling gray eyes whom his friend introduced as Greer Chapin, Clay’s sister.

While Max stayed behind to speak with the woman, Beck kept walking.

He spotted Cory and Jackie in the corner, speaking with several other couples. The affable teacher raised his hand and smiled when his gaze landed on Beck.

After returning the greeting, Beck settled his gaze on Ami. She stood behind a table with Katie Ruth, fellow Cherrie and editor of the tabloid rag, the
Open Door
.

He couldn’t help but smile at their attire. The two were dressed as Santa’s elves in tight red shirts, green pants, and hats with a single jaunty feather. The rectangular table they stood behind held sprigs of mistletoe tied with red-and-white-striped ribbon, tins of cookies, and the popular Santa hats.

As there was currently a line, Beck and Max stood back, sipping the beer Hadley had dropped off.

“Good enough to eat,” Max murmured.

Beck glanced at the selection of holiday treats displayed. “Ami makes the best cookies.”

“I’m not talking cookies, Cross. I’m talking women.”

Beck shot Max a dark glance, while privately acknowledging he found the way Ami’s stretchy shirt clung to her breasts arousing.

The accountant grinned, apparently noticing the direction of Beck’s gaze. “Exactly.”

He gave his friend a warning shove. Max could look at Katie Ruth all he wanted, but he best keep his eyes off Ami. At that moment, the line thinned and they stepped to the table.

Beck slipped out his wallet.

“What can I get you?” Katie Ruth asked with a cheery smile.

“I’d like to make a donation.”

The tabloid editor pointed to a large jar, and Beck stuffed a handful of twenties into the top.

“Two hats.” Max handed Katie Ruth a large bill. “Keep the change.”

“You better be buying that second one for someone other than me,” Beck told his friend, “because I’m not wearing one.”

“That’s the Mr. Scrooge we all know and love.”

“We also have cookie tins and mistletoe.” Ami, who’d finished with another customer, moved to Katie Ruth’s side and smiled at Beck.

“Toss in a piece of that mistletoe, too,” Max requested.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Ami said to Beck while Katie Ruth placed Max’s mistletoe in a small, clear bag.

“I hoped our paths would cross.” Actually, that was one of the main reasons he’d agreed to come with Max. “I hated having to rush off this morning.”

“You didn’t have much choice,” she said with an understanding smile.

He and Ami had barely gotten out of the shower when Beck had been called to the café. Two boys had egged the front of several businesses, including Muddy Boots. The sheriff needed Beck to fill out a report. Thankfully, Ami’s bakery had been spared.

“Max heard about the fundraiser. I wanted to support Cory and Jackie.” He glanced in the direction of the couple. “How are they doing?”

Ami shot a glance at Katie Ruth. “Mind if I take a five-minute break?”

Katie Ruth’s gaze skipped from Ami to Beck. She grinned. “Go for it.”

Ami led Beck to the quietest corner she could find. She slanted a glance in Cory and Jackie’s direction and sighed. “They received some bad news today from the mortgage company. If they aren’t up to date on their payments by the end of the month, the company will start eviction proceedings.”

Beck frowned. “That seems drastic.”

Ami lifted her shoulders, let them drop. “The mortgage company has been accommodating, but a company’s patience only stretches so far.”

“Is there any way Cory and Jackie can come up with the money?”

Ami shook her head, her green eyes somber.

Beck exhaled a harsh breath. “It’s Christmas.”

“I know. It sucks.” Tears suddenly filled Ami’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and squared her shoulders. “Tonight is about celebrating Cory’s return to health and raising enough money to help them pay off the last of their medical bills.”

“By selling Santa hats?”

“They’re a hot item,” Ami protested. “Along with the mistletoe.”

“My mistletoe wants to be put to use.” Max stepped close and twirled the dark green leaves and berries he’d purchased above Ami’s head. “You know what this means.”

She glanced up.

Before Ami could respond, Beck plucked the mistletoe from his friend’s hands and gave him a little shove. “It means it’s time for you to get lost.”

The accountant seemed more amused than discouraged. His eyes danced merrily. “I’ll buy another bunch and peruse the inventory.”

Max swaggered off.

Ami’s brows pulled together in puzzlement. “‘Peruse the inventory’?”

Beck hesitated. “Single women.”

After a second, Ami chuckled. “I like Max.”

“I like you.” Beck twirled the sprig between his fingers, back and forward. “I like mistletoe.”

Ami cleared her throat. “It-it’s always fun to see who avoids it and who deliberately steps under it.”

“Like this?” Beck raised the sprig and pulled Ami to him under it.

“Beck, everyone thinks we’re just business associates,” she hissed, even as she let her body meld against his.

“I’d say it’s about time they knew differently.” The words had barely left his mouth when his lips covered hers.