“Everyone’s having a good time,” Kip said, sitting down next to Carly. “Are you?”

“Absolutely. Good party—great party.” Carly peeled her lips back so her teeth could do the convincing for her. Some would call it a smile but she knew it wouldn’t fool Kip for more than a moment, even though she badly wanted it to.

You’re being ungrateful, Zoomie. She heard her dad’s voice in her mind. Acting like a spoiled brat because you didn’t get your white Christmas.

She was. She totally was. But she just couldn’t shift the niggly, squirmy disappointment in her belly that she wouldn’t see snow this year. More importantly, experience that snow with Kip.

And it wasn’t like her wonderful man hadn’t done everything in his power to make this Christmas Day special for them. They’d decorated their tree together and then sprayed the hell out of it with fake white snow stuff. They’d baked cookies and planted jellybeans that turned into candy canes on Christmas morning—even though Kip’s twin nephews, Logan and Lucas, weren’t there this year. They’d sung carols and hung stockings over the fire. Left a glass of milk and some of their cookies out for Santa.

“Carly,” Kip said gently.

Yeah, her acting skills were pretty crap. “I know. I’m okay.”

The ferry and planes would be running again the day after tomorrow, and she and Kip would be on the first morning ferry. Kip had spent hours on the phone and computer rearranging their travel plans and rebooking another cabin in Aspen. So they’d be having a white New Year’s instead of a white Christmas. It hardly mattered if they were a few days late. Only the niggly, squirmy disappointment said otherwise.

This year it was her disappointment that was the grinch that stole Christmas. She could definitely take a lesson or two from those Whos down in Whoville.

Kip tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger, stroking the soft skin of her throat and causing a delicious shiver to scurry down and disappear beneath the white fake-fur-trimmed strapless Mrs. Claus dress she wore. While Mrs. T was known locally as the matchmaking queen, Carly had an image as the reigning Christmas queen to uphold. She was the one Kezia called to come in and help the schoolkids make little festive baubles to take home to their families. She was the one responsible for Due South’s seasonal decorations, put up with military precision and coordination thanks to her loyal and somewhat complaining team of fellow employees. She was the go-to oracle for the gift-handicapped local men who were clueless as to what to get their wives and girlfriends. She was on the committee that organized the kids’ annual Christmas party, the collection of wrapped gifts to give to the Mainland women’s shelter to distribute, and the small holiday food bank she, Shaye, and Del provided to locals who were on a very tight budget.

She was the queen, but after hours of smiling and laughing about their ‘white Christmas when the sun is shining outside,’ she was done. Beat.

She leaned into Kip and whispered, “Do you think anyone would notice if we left soon?”

He brushed his mouth along her jaw. “Wait until a few more songs, and if you still want to leave, we’ll slip out then.”

“Mrs. Taylor and Wally are adorable,” she said. “Who knew they could both still cut it up on the dance floor?”

Her gaze was drawn again to the cleared space in the hall, filled with couples, and there in the center, Mrs. Taylor and her new beau doing a slow foxtrot to “Let it Snow.” They’d killed the hall’s main lights and the dance floor was a romantic grotto of fairy lights twinkling overhead.

He stood and extended his hand. “Dance with me?”

The mood she was in she wanted to say no, but for Kip? For Kip she’d walk over burning Christmas yule logs to make him happy. So she rose, took his hand, and let him lead her out onto the floor.

His arms closed around her and the muscles along her spine finally softened and relaxed. Snow or no snow, Christmas or no Christmas, this was where she belonged.

And I’m not ungrateful for that, Daddy.

“Let it Snow” ended and the silky smooth tones of Nat King Cole’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began. Tears welled up in the corner of Carly’s eyes and she turned her face into Kip so no one would see her cry. They swayed together, all those nights dancing in their living room in practice for their wedding day making them a lean, mean dancing machine. The thought of their wedding plans kept the tears at bay, and before she knew it, Nat King Cole turned into Frank wishing them “A Merry Little Christmas.”

That’s when she felt it. Tiny little spots sprinkling on her shoulder blades.

Her nose crinkled and she lifted her cheek from Kip’s chest.

Snow!

It was snowing, inside. Tiny white flakes drifted down over the dancing couples, some of whom, like her, had stopped and were staring up at the ceiling with delighted smiles on their faces.

Her eyes widened and her jaw sagged. “Did you do this?” she squeaked.

He shrugged. “Artificial snow machine,” he said modestly. “The amateur theater group had one tucked away from their Christmas production a couple of years ago.”

He spun her out from him in a slick move, and laughter burst out of her. “Oh, Kip!”

Kids wove in and out of their parents’ legs, squealing with joy, and their friends stole kisses under the strategically hung bundles of mistletoe with snowflakes caught in their hair.

Like the grinch, Carly’s heart grew two sizes in that moment. Surrounded by those she loved, and those who loved her, she really was home for Christmas.