Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
She didn't trust Rachel, he realized. For some reason, the fact that Amy was so protective of him made him feel incredible. People assumed a big, strong guy like him could take care of himself, and aside from his family, no one worried about him all that much. Tiny as she was, he'd gained a sincere respect for how formidable an opponent Amy could be when she put her mind to it.
“There's nothing to admire in this,” he corrected her. “It's the right thing to do.”
“Just don't let her take advantage of you like she did before,” Amy warned him with a stern look. “I might have to hurt her.”
Her threat made him chuckle. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“I'm serious, you big oaf. Women like Rachel sail through life wrapping men around their little fingers and gouging them for everything they've got. Then, when the mood strikes, poof!” She illustrated her point with an intricate waving of fingers that was easy to interpret.
“I'll keep that in mind, too,” Jason assured her as they both stood. “It sure is comforting to know you've got my back.”
“Someone needs to watch out for you.” She gave him an indulgent smile. “You're too nice for your own good.”
“Guess I wouldn't last long in the big city, huh?”
“Half an hour, tops.”
Gazing down at her, he took in the intelligence sparkling in her eyes, the set of her delicate jaw. She might look as if she was made of porcelain, but under all that polish ran a streak of steely determination that appealed to him just as much. “Then it's a good thing you ended up here. Otherwise we never would've met.”
Smiling, he reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair back into her loose ponytail. The motion took his fingers across her soft skin, and he cradled her cheek in his hand. Because he couldn't help himself, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips. That brief connection to her did something strange to his heart, which suddenly felt as if it meant to pound its way out of his chest.
Startled by the intensity of his reaction to her, he pulled back and watched her eyes blink open with the same bewildered look he must be wearing. Assuming he'd pushed too far too fast, he stammered, “Amy, I'm sâ”
She cut off his apology by pulling him in for another, much longer kiss. For a few moments, he rode that wave of emotions, gathering her in, savoring the way her slender frame fit against him. Then, because he was a gentleman, he drew away and held her at arm's length.
Figuring humor would give him the best exit, he said, “Thanks for the coffee.”
That got him the laugh he'd been hoping for, and she waved him off. “You're welcome. And if anyone asks, it was the mistletoe.”
She pointed at the kissing ball dangling from the ceiling, but he still didn't know what she was referring to. Then he noticed the bare window that looked into her office. It didn't take a genius to know some busybody had seen that kiss and was quickly spreading the word. “Gotcha. 'Night, Amy.”
He was on his way out the door when she said, “Sweet dreams, Sir Galahad.”
Flattening his palm on the doorjamb, he poked his head back in. “What? I'm not Lancelot?”
“His affair with Guinevere destroyed Arthur and then Camelot,” she explained. “Galahad was known for pure gallantry, expecting nothing in return. That's you.”
He'd gotten his share of compliments from women over the years, but none had the impact of this one. “I had no idea you saw me that way.”
“I know.” Shaking her head, she gave him an approving smile. “That's what makes you so special.”
Amy thought he was special, Jason mused as he let himself out the studio door. Replaying the kiss that had nearly knocked him over, he couldn't help grinning as he strolled toward his grandparents' house. He'd never really considered himself anything out of the ordinary, but Amy had seen a lot more of the world than he had. Not to mention, she'd come into contact with more people, not all of them nice. That was where her cynicism came from, he realized. The fact that a small-town boy like him had captured her interest was incredibly flattering.
Then again, Devon had been one of those worldly guys she'd known, and he'd let her down in the worst way imaginable. Abandoning someone who needed you was something Jason simply couldn't understand. As he arrived home, he made a silent vow.
Whatever happened between Amy and him, he'd always put her wishes before his own. No matter how much it might hurt.
Chapter Eight
“T
ell me everything,” Brenda insisted before Amy had even sat down for their pre-Christmas shopping breakfast. “Don't leave anything out.”
“There's really not much to tell,” Amy hedged, opening the menu hoping to appear nonchalant. “Rachel McCarron drove into town last night on fumes.”
“And bursting at the seams,” Brenda supplied helpfully.
As she stacked her hands and rested her chin on them, Amy's eyes were drawn to the rings on her left hand. They weren't flashy, but the gold and modest diamond setting caught the overhead lights in a pretty display. Amy had only gotten half a set herself, and she'd felt compelled to return the diamond when her engagement ended. Rachel hadn't, though, she groused silently. According to Jason, she'd sold it at a pawnshop somewhere in Colorado.
“Hello? Earth to Amy.”
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
As if on cue, Molly Harkness stopped at their table. The best cook within a hundred miles, she had five kids, fourteen grandkids and the sharpest ears in town. “She was saying she doesn't know what you're thinking, leaving Jason alone with his ex that way.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Amy demanded in exasperation. “It's not like we're a couple or anything. And even if we were, I'd never step in where I'm not wanted.”
“I would,” Brenda declared without hesitation. “I'd protect what's mine before Bambi got any bright ideas. Rare as that might be,” she added with a giggle.
“Honey, she's right.” Molly patted her shoulder in a gesture that was obviously meant to be supportive but just ended up making Amy feel as if they were ganging up on her.
“Rachel's pregnant,” she reminded them both more curtly than she'd intended. “If I make a fuss over her, he'll think I'm awful.”
The other two women traded a grim look, and Molly sighed. “You've hit the nail on that one. A good breakfast oughta help the thinking along. What would you girls like?”
Brenda ordered her usual platter with everything but the kitchen sink, but the idea of food made Amy's stomach roll over in protest. “I'll just have the fruit plate.”
“Farmer's breakfast it is,” Molly vetoed her, hustling off while Amy was still sputtering her objections.
“Just go with it, Ames,” Brenda advised while she sugared her coffee and handed the dispenser across the table. “Molly's seen everything at least once, and she's always right.”
“I guess.” Feeling dejected, Amy stirred her coffee, watching the creamer and sugar swirl around in the cup. The music playing on the diner's speakers changed tracks, and the opening of “I'll Be Home for Christmas” made her smile. “I love this song. This year, it really fits me, doesn't it?”
“I'm so glad you're back home again,” Brenda gushed, reaching over to pat her hand. “You always were my favorite cousin. I remember when Mom and I used to drive to Washington to see you dance in those productions. I'd sit in the audience and hold my breath the whole time you were onstage, praying you wouldn't mess up.”
“I did a few times,” Amy confided.
“I never noticed. To me, you were flawless.”
“Not so much anymore.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she fiddled with her napkin to avoid meeting her cousin's gaze.
“It's okay, you know,” Brenda said gently. “Being imperfect is what makes us human. It helps us sympathize with other people's weaknesses.”
“Such as?”
“Such as Jason Barrett's heart is bigger than it needs to be. Which is probably why he's bringing that car thief in here for breakfast.” When Amy angled to look, Brenda ordered, “Don't you dare. If he wants to see you, he'll come over on his own. Don't for one second let her think she bothers you. He's interested in you now, not her.”
“Do you really think so?” Amy asked.
“Did he kiss you last night or not?”
Amy narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “I didn't tell you that.”
“Don't be dense,” she scolded with a laugh. “If you don't want folks knowing your business, put a curtain on that window in your office.”
A server dropped off their plates, giving Amy time to regain her perspective. Before diving into her eggs, she grinned. “It was the mistletoe.”
“Good excuse,” Brenda approved through a mouthful of home fries. “Seeing as it's Christmas and all.”
“Speaking of which, what do your kids want to find under the tree on the big day?”
In response, Brenda reached into her purse and pulled out a sheaf of lined notebook paper, which she handed to Amy. At the top of each was one of her kids' names, followed by a long list of wishes.
Flipping through them, Amy laughed. “It's a good thing we get along so well. Looks like it's gonna be a long day.”
* * *
Even from a distance, Amy Morgan was still the prettiest thing Jason had ever seen.
Fortunately for him, Rachel was too hungry to talk much, so he just let her eat while he tried to watch Amy without letting on that he was staring at her. She and Brenda were chatting and laughing, apparently oblivious to the other folks in the dining room. Considering the unpleasant tasks he had ahead of him this morning, he'd much rather have been starting his day out with their lively company.
But he wasn't, so he'd just have to make the best of it. His restless night had left him tired and cranky, which wasn't helpful when what he needed was to be patient and understanding.
Summoning his usual optimism, he started what could only be an awkward conversation. “So, when's the last time you saw a doctor?”
Chewing on some toast, she considered that for long enough to make him very nervous. “San Antonio.”
He bit back a sarcastic comment and tried again. “When was that?”
“A couple weeks ago. It was a clinic, and the nurse said everything looked fine to her.”
“I'd feel better if Doc Peterson checked you over. Y'know, make sure everything's okay.”
“Doctors are expensive,” she reminded him, as if he'd forgotten.
“He and my dad go way back, so I'm sure he'll do us a favor.”
“Okay.”
She shrugged as if it didn't matter to her, and alarm bells went off in Jason's head. “Are you all right?”
“It's just...”
Her voice trailed off into some minor waterworks, and she dropped her face in her hands. Worst-case scenario, he groaned inwardly as people at the tables nearby politely turned their heads away from the heart-wrenching scene near the window. Completely out of his depth, Jason searched for a way to comfort her. Or at the very least make her quit crying.
Then, as suddenly as they'd appeared, the tears stopped. With a shaky breath, she gave him a wan smile. “Sorry about that. Sometimes it catches up with me, how alone we are.”
She rested a protective hand over her stomach, and he marveled at how much she'd changed since he'd known her in Oregon. While he hated to consider what she'd gone through before reaching Barrett's Mill, he was glad to know her restlessness was a thing of the past. “Once you feel settled, things'll get better.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
“You were always so sweet.”
When tears started welling up again, he stopped her with a hand in the air. “If you're fixing to apologize again, save your breath.”
“Okay.” Her eyes drifted over to the booth where Amy and Brenda had their heads together over a pile of notebook paper. “She's really pretty.”
“Yeah, she is. She's also a great teacher, and her students love her.”
Rachel's gaze swung back to him with sudden interest. “What about you? Do you love her, too?”
Did he? He hadn't known Amy that long, and they were so different. But he couldn't deny that they'd clicked that first day, and he had a very hard time getting her out of his thoughts long enough to concentrate on anything else. He loved the graceful way she moved, the light, flowery scent of her perfume, even the way she went toe-to-toe with him over necessary mechanical changes to her set design.
She definitely intrigued him, and it wouldn't take much for him to fall hard for her. But love? As he considered the woman sitting across from him, he realized he hadn't moved as far on as he'd assumed. Rachel had broken more than his heart. She'd shattered his trust in himself, in his ability to let go and simply let himself feel.
Because he wasn't willing to explore that any further on a couple of hours' sleep, he dug into his cooling omelet and changed the subject. “So, you said your last job was singing at a bar in Phoenix. I'm thinking that's not such a good option for you now.”
That got him a rueful grin, which was a big step up. “Ladies and gentlemen, Jason Barrett, the master of understatement.”
He laughed, but abruptly stopped when he noticed Amy and Brenda headed their way. Any guy with a brain could guess how this was going to go, and he wasn't looking forward to the collision.
Standing, he dredged up his best smile. “'Morning, ladies.”
“Jason.” Brenda sniffed, giving Rachel a suspicious look before offering her hand. “I'm Brenda Lattimore. Welcome to Barrett's Mill.”
Her chilly greeting had the ring of a cobra inviting a mouse into range, and Amy rolled her eyes with a sigh. “How are you doing this morning, Rachel? I hope you slept well.”
“It's much better than sleeping in the truck.”
Brenda's flinty look dissolved, and her mother's instincts took over. “Oh, you poor thing! How awful.”
“I'm just grateful to be here with nice people around who care about what happens to me and my baby.”
“So are we,” Amy assured her with a warmth that couldn't be faked. “Every child should come into the world knowing they're loved.”
Jason sensed she was including him in that gracious comment, and he silently thanked her for it. Overcome by gratitude for her understanding, it was all he could do not to kiss her right there in front of everyone. “What are you ladies up to today?”
“Christmas shopping.” Those soft lips curved flirtatiously, and she added, “Would you like me to add in anything for you?”
Returning that smile was the most natural thing he'd ever done. “Nope. I got everything I want.”
“All right, you two,” Brenda jumped in, pulling her cousin away. “Save it for under the mistletoe. Bye, now.”
Still standing, Jason watched them stroll down the sidewalk toward the shops so lavishly decorated for the holidays. He kept them in sight until they turned a corner, then stifled a sigh as he sat back down.
“I don't care what you say,” Rachel told him with the authority of an expert. “You're in love with her. The good news is, she feels the same way about you.”
“You're nuts. We just met.”
“Oh, that doesn't matter even the teeniest little bit,” she informed him while she salted her eggs. “When two people go together, that's it. Logic has nothing to do with it.”
“I thought
we
went together.”
“No, you didn't,” she corrected him quietly. “You tried to make it happen, because more than anything you want a family of your own to love and take care of. Your mistake was trying to fit me into that box.”
“And what makes you think Amy's open to being in the box with me?”
“I'm a woman,” she reminded him with a coy smile. “We always know.”
Jason chewed on that for a minute, then decided she might be right. But even if Amy already knew how she felt about him, he wouldn't be surprised if it took her a while to own up to it. They'd both gotten burned in the past, and that would make it tougher for them to take that step again.
But anything was possible. After all, it was Christmastime.
* * *
Amy was getting ready for choir practice when someone started honking out front. Grabbing a light jacket, she went through the studio and saw a minivan waiting outside the large bay window.
Brenda.
I should have known,
she thought as she let herself out the front door and locked it behind her.
Pausing on the sidewalk, she glanced back to admire the festive look she and Jason had created to draw people into Arabesque. Even if she'd worked at it for months, she couldn't have designed a better representation of both the studio and the show. Odd as it seemed, they made a great team, her with the ideas and him with the practical experience to bring them to life.
When she climbed in beside her cousin, she chided, “You really didn't have to do this. I would've met you there.”
“It's no big deal. You're on my way.”
Right. Any other day, she might have continued the debate just for fun, but thinking about Jason had left her feeling generous, so she let it drop. “I wrapped the kids' gifts last night. Do you want to stop and get them after rehearsal so you can put them under your tree?”
“Not a chance,” Brenda replied as she parked in the church's lot. “They'll shake and nudge and peek until they end up opening them âby mistake.'” She punctuated this with air quotes and laughed. “It's safer to hang on to them and bring them Christmas morning.”
“Will do.” They got out of the van, and Amy said, “I can't believe how many people are here. The lot's almost as full as it was on Sunday.”
“The difference is, most of us are here alone,” Brenda pointed out as they went up the steps. “On Sunday, those same cars are full of people.”
“Is that why you do this? To get some time to yourself?”
“Pretty much. I love my kids to pieces, but I have to get some me time once in a while or I'll go bonkers.”
In her wistful tone, Amy heard a desperate plea for a break. She'd been trying to come up with a gift for her vivacious cousin, and the lightbulb went off: spa day. There had to be one around here somewhere, she reasoned. It occurred to her that Chelsea Barrett would be the kind of woman who'd know something like that, and she made a mental note to call and ask her.