PERFECT (15 page)

Dylan jogged up
the sidewalk. He met her at the porch steps and immediately eased her of the
burden. “What’s in here? You know I do have a kitchen sink.”

“Funny. Cookie
makings.” Swiping her hair from her eyes, she reached back and locked Tom’s
front door.

“It looks like you
have enough stuff to make cookies for an army,” he said over his shoulder as he
started down the shoveled path.

The snow that had
fallen during the early morning hours still clung to the tree limbs regardless of
the sun’s best attempt to peek though the clouds and melt off the fluff.

“Only about a
hundred dozen.”

With his mouth
gaped, Dylan turned around, drawing her up short. “One hundred dozen?”

“Ah huh.” She
grinned and sidestepped him. Humming “Have A Holly Jolly Christmas,” her steps
were skip-like all the way to the back of the vehicle where she unlatched the
back hatch of the Trailblazer.

“Hi, Aunt Darcy,”
was the greeting she received when she opened the door. Secure in their booster
seats, Jillian and Katy waved from the backseat. She liked that the girls had
taken to calling her Aunt Darcy.

“What are you two
doing here?”

“We were helping
Uncle Dylan deliver straw bales to the church,” Jillian said, repositioning her
knitted cap.

“I carried the
pieces that fell.” Katy ripped off her cap and pushed her blond curls from her
eyes.

Darcy laughed.
“Well, pieces are important. You can’t have anything without them.”

“Yup, they were a
big help. That’s one more thing crossed off my to-do list.” Dylan slid the box
inside and turned to her. “Now, about that hundred dozen cookies. I don’t think
we can eat that many.”

“No, but the
village of Black Moose can.”

“What are you
talking about?”

“Lilac told me
Elizabeth always baked cookies for the carolers.” She went up on her toes and
with her hands on his shoulders, whispered in his ear. “And, as Santa, you need
something to hand out at the church on Sunday.” She dropped back to her heels.
“You said you were going to be late tonight, so I thought after the girls were
tucked into bed, I’d help out by making some special Santa cookies.”

He closed the
hatch and looked down at her. “You don’t have to do that. I was going to buy
maple candy from Mrs. Whoseher or make a run down the mountain sometime before
Sunday and find something. Oranges, maybe.”

“I know I don’t
have to bake them. I want to.” She smiled up at him. “Please let me help you.
You have so much going on and well—”

“I know you’re
bored out of your mind on this mountain.” He frowned.

“If I didn’t have
this to do, I probably would be. It’s not like this is my home and I have a
million things to do to prepare for Christmas. Or work.”

“What about the
plans you were working on for Sweet Water?” He jerked his chin toward Tom’s
house.

“They can wait. I
have plenty of time to finish them up after the holiday—when I get back home
next week.”

“Right. I
appreciate that you want to help me, but you don’t have to.” He pulled back his
sleeve. “We better get going. It’s four-ten and I have to be on the mountain by
five.”

As Darcy climbed
into the cab next to Dylan, she noticed his jaw was clenched and his lips were
pressed into a thin line. During the ten-minute drive to Bob’s house, he spoke
not a word directly to her and only answered the girls’ questions with a few
clipped words. Had she over-stepped her bounds in assuming he’d be okay with
her making cookies for the whole community?

When they arrived
at the house the girls ran off to where Gray was chopping kindling in the
backyard. She waited until they were out of earshot before turning on Dylan,
cornering him by the back of the truck. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He reached into
the bed and slid the box forward. “Look, we sat the rules together, agreed to
them and it’s my problem, not yours.”

What was he
talking about? Her brow pulled together. What rules had they set concerning cookies?
“I don’t understand.”

He sat the box
down again and exhaled. “I get it. Next week you’ll be gone. You don’t have to
keep bringing Sweet Grass or South Carolina up at every opportunity.”

“Ah…” She pointed
a gloved finger at him. “You’re the one who mentioned Sweet Grass. Not me.”

He hosted the box
against his chest. “Either way, you’re going home in a week and I am staying
here.”

Her eyes widened,
realizing of what he spoke. “Oh, that rule.”

His eyes narrowed
into dark slits. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Cookies.”

“What?” He shook
his head and a dark strand of hair fell forward over his brow. “No. Bake the
damn cookies if you want.”

“I will.” She
folded her arms across her chest. Then she tilted her head to the side and gave
him a demure smile. “You’re thinking that our friendship pact was a fool’s
quest.”

“Yes. No.” He sat
the box down again and combed a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on
end like a rooster’s tail. Turmoil played across his face. “I don’t know.”

He stared down at
her, pleading.

Could it really be
that he felt the same way she did?

Somehow, as much
as she tried not to, over the last few days she’d begun to fall hard for Dylan.

“You know what I
think?” She stepped closer to him and angled her head back to meet his gaze.

“What?” His Adam’s
apple dipped below his turtleneck.

“I think we should
toss our friendship rule out the window and take our chances.”

“You really think
that’s wise?” His eyes searched hers.

“I don’t know.
What I do know is, I don’t want to look back later and wonder what might have
been.”

He pushed a strand
of her hair back from her face and traced a finger along her jaw, but it was
his words that sent a jolt to her heart. “I think I’m falling for you, Darcy.”

The next few days
went by as if Darcy was free falling in a tailspin. Thursday night after Dylan
arrived home, they’d climbed the flight of stairs to the attic. He found the
red Santa suit right where Elizabeth had told him she had it stored. What his
sister-in-law had failed to mentioned was that a forest green Mrs. Santa dress
hung next to it. Lilac jumped on that opportunity and urged Darcy to wear the
outfit, stating the color would be perfect on her, and she’d be able to help
Dylan with the children at the Sunday school event.

She always loved
dressing up for Halloween as a child and thought why the hell not? It would be
fun.

Friday afternoon,
after the roads were cleared, she met Allison at the library and they had a
girl’s afternoon together, getting to know each other better. Darcy decided she
couldn’t be here for Christmas and not have gifts for the friends she’d made,
so the pair drove to the closest mall which was some forty miles away and spent
hours shopping and chatting. By the time they’d arrived home at five-thirty,
she barely had enough time to lug all her packages upstairs and change before
Dylan and the girls picked her up for dinner and to enjoy the Christmas
splendor of Black Moose.

She had a ball
helping the girls pick out gifts for their Uncle Dylan and grandparents at the
general store which was open for special holiday shopping hours. She suspected
they also bought gifts for her too, because she wasn’t allowed near the
checkout counter while they paid for their purchases.

Later, as they
stood under the stars, listening to the carolers, Dylan took her hand in his
and her heart did a back flip when he smiled down at her. The magic sizzling
between them lasted for about five point two seconds, because at that moment,
the sheep in the live nativity scene in the central park decided to make a run
for it. A large crowd circled the park’s perimeter as a dozen men and many more
boys raced after the wooly critters through the park, slipping and sliding,
falling on their behinds.

Darcy held her
sides, laughing, as Dylan raced after and dived for a lamb. He missed and slid
on his belly a good ten feet before stopping next to the makeshift stable. It
took a good half-hour to get the situation under control, but the laughs lasted
throughout the holiday week whenever someone brought up the episode or a
nativity scene came into view.

Saturday was a
picture-perfect day. Every Christmas tree Darcy ever had, had been purchased
and most of them had been plastic, sprayed with a pine scent. She’d never
climbed on the back of a horse-drawn wagon and ridden out into the forest to
find a perfect tree. She never knew there were so many types of evergreens.
Dylan gave her a crash lesson and before long she could identify Blue Spruce,
Douglas Firs, Fraser Firs and Scotch Pines.

The girls found a
bird’s nest in a nine-foot Fraser. A tree harboring a bird’s nest, she was told,
brought good luck to the home it entered, so that tree was deemed the ideal
Kincaid Christmas Tree, despite the fact that one side was pretty sparse. Darcy
knew what everyone hoped without it being said—that luck would indeed be
sprinkled on the family and that Elizabeth and Bob would be safe and home soon.

On Saturday
afternoon, with the tree drying its branches on the back porch, Dylan, the
girls and Darcy headed off to the slopes. She’d never been to a ski lodge and
was actually impressed with the luxury provided to the patrons. They had a late
lunch in the restaurant. When the lodge owner stopped by their table, Dylan let
it slip that she was a chef. That news brought up a long conversation, ending
with an offer to join his staff. The offer made her think maybe, just maybe,
she could have a life here. There were career opportunities, and she was
falling in love with the small-town atmosphere. The cold was something she’d
have to get used to, but it would make her appreciate summer, something she
didn’t do living in the humidity of the South. And she’d have Dylan to keep her
warm. That thought made her blood rush more than the free fall down the
mountainside on an oversized snow tube.

A feeling of peace
he hadn’t felt in months made Dylan smile. Everything was falling into place
for Christmas. The house was decorated, thanks to Darcy. The tree was up and
looked amazing, even though mother had to add a few tie-dyed ornaments. Again,
thanks to Darcy. Tomorrow, playing Santa was the last community obligation he
had to fulfill and he was prepared with a ton of cookies. Thanks to Darcy. And
she’d be by his side as Mrs. Santa.

Somehow, Darcy by
his side just felt right.

He sat back on his
heels and blinked. He was in love with her. How in the hell was he ever going
to let her go?

Striking a match
and setting it to paper, the kindling in the fireplace came to life with a loud
crackle. “There we go,” he said, brushing his hands and standing.

“I love a fire.”
Darcy sat behind him. She looked so damn beautiful curled up on the couch with
her stocking feet tucked under her and clenching a warm goblet of mulled wine.
“They make a home cozy. Do you have a fireplace at your house?”

“I don’t think
there is a home in New England that doesn’t have a fireplace or two. It’s sort
of a necessity.”

“You know you
haven’t shown me your home or your art yet.”

He placed a bigger
log on the fire and positioned the fire screen in front of the hearth. “Maybe
tomorrow, after church. Mom and Dad can sit with the kids for a while. I need
to wrap presents anyway. Maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me?”

“Of course.” She
took a sip of her wine before setting the glass down on the coffee table. “How
long will your parents be out tonight?”

The flames
highlighted the many hues in her long, thick locks. He stretched his fingers
along the side seams of his jeans, longing to feel her silky strands between
them. “If their card game gets going, it could be after midnight before they
get home.” He glanced at his watch. “That’s about two and half hours.”

“Not enough,
but...” She unwound the scarf around her neck and let it drop to the floor.

His pulse raced to
an alarming rate when her slim fingers slowly traced a line along the graceful
length of her neck and down the edge of the V neckline of her sweater where her
flushed skin was exposed. He saw the rise of her plump breasts against the soft
green woven threads. Oh, how he wanted to cup them and make her want him.

 “Why? What do you
have in mind?” His heart stalled, waiting for the answer he’d needed to hear so
badly.

“Remember our
first kiss?” She patted the couch next to her and relaxed against the cushion.

Desire flashed in
her green eyes.

Dylan’s blood
heated and coursed through his veins, heading south of his belt like a runaway
steam engine. “I remember.”