Chapter Twelve
Derek had just laid the potatoes on the table when Izzy stepped into the room, followed by Atticus. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She’d been beautiful since the first moment, but the sheer dress that skimmed above her knees rendered him speechless. She’d done something to her eyes that made them look even wider, and her lips were a glossy rose color. He swallowed back the thickness in his throat. Even Janet stopped filling the long-stemmed glasses with holiday punch.
“Don’t you look prettier than a Christmas angel,” she said and put the pitcher, ripe with floating oranges, down on the table.
Derek knew color would creep up Izzy’s cheeks at the compliment. How had he come to know her so intimately in such a short time? She wasn’t used to compliments, and it was a shame. Her mother and that dirtbag in college had done a number on her self-esteem. If she came to his bed tonight, he intended to show her in every way possible just how amazing she was. It wasn’t just her looks that drew him, though they were spectacular. She made him smile. Everything about her was soft and strong at the same time, and a steadfast pool of compassion filled her heart. But it was her eyes, a kaleidoscope of gold and chocolate, that made him finally trust. Those eyes had never held an ounce of ill-intention or dishonesty.
Izzy sat next to Mary, who whispered something in her ear. Both girls chuckled, and suddenly the beat of his heart was amplified in his ears, a quick thrum that drowned out “O Holy Night” flowing from the surround-sound speakers. If Santa’s sleigh burst through the ballroom’s double doors and flattened him, he’d be less astounded. He’d fallen for Izzy. He didn’t know when, or how she’d broken down his carefully constructed wall of ice, but she had. Sometime between the moment she’d appeared at his doorstep and forced her way into his life and now, as she shared stories with his family, he’d lost his heart.
“Take a seat,” his father said. Derek looked down at the table where everyone was sitting except for him. How long had he been standing there letting the weight of his realization absorb? He pulled out the last chair left, between his father and Mary.
“Why don’t you give the toast tonight, Derek?” Janet asked.
The last thing he wanted to do was speak. His head was fuzzy, as if he’d downed a full glass of Swedish glogg.
His gaze lifted to Izzy. “To new chances and new beginnings. To letting ourselves trust enough to discover what the future holds.” His voice was unsteady, and his eyes didn’t move from Izzy’s. Derek lifted his glass toward the others, but all he could see was her. Did she pick up on his meaning, or did she think he was acting for his family’s sake?
When his father blinked rapidly and busied himself scooping up buttery potatoes, something moved in Derek. His father understood what his words had implied. It would mean a lot to him that Derek would open his heart again after it was left so broken.
“That was lovely, Derek.” Even Janet’s voice had dropped low and soft. She looked at Izzy, then at Derek. “We’re so thankful you found each other.” Janet laughed lightly and shook her head. “And to think I doubted when you first told me over the phone about Izzy. The love you share is so clear in person.”
He couldn’t read Izzy’s face. Was it the chandelier lights glittering overhead, or did her skin go a shade paler? Throughout the dinner, he ate his meal without really tasting it. All he could focus on were the raw nerves swarming through his body. It scared him silly that Izzy might not feel the same way about him. What would happen if she returned to her life after this was over and left him here?
“How did you two meet?” Paul set down his fork and stretched back. His plate had been cleared. Twice. It was a tribute to Izzy’s skills in the kitchen. He’d have to ask her someday where she learned.
“Oh, I’ve been dying to hear.” Janet leaned forward and propped her forearms against the table.
The question caught him off guard. Why hadn’t they discussed how they’d “met”? It was clearly something that would be brought up. How many more little details had they missed?
“She just showed up on my doorstep one day and never left.” Derek cast a desperate glance at Izzy. Maybe she’d be able to elaborate, because right now his tongue was tangled.
“Oh?” Janet raised a lined brow.
Izzy let out a soft laugh, and every face turned to her, taking some of the pressure off him. “What he means is, my car broke down on my way to see my grandmother, and I had no cell service. Derek’s house was the first I saw, and I asked to use the landline.” Izzy grinned and glanced down at the glass of punch she was holding. “He was a bit of a grump,” she added.
“Not our Derek.” Janet clapped her hands together once and started laughing. It didn’t matter that they were making fun of him. Izzy had saved the story, adding just enough truth to make it workable.
“What happened after that?” Mary asked and swirled some turnip casserole around her plate.
He looked at Izzy, who stared back at him blankly. Shoot, they’d hit a roadblock.
“Nothing your adolescent ears need to hear.” Derek grinned and hoped that would shut everyone up so they could change the topic. He heard Izzy’s sharp inhale of breath.
“Don’t make it sound like that. It was a slow build from friendship to trust and respect,” Izzy said as her face reddened.
“Well, the house certainly needed a woman’s touch. It’s so nice you opened up the ballroom, and the decorations are spectacular. I can’t remember a holiday that felt so festive.”
Derek could have kissed Janet for altering the course of conversation.
“It’s been years since anyone has used this room or danced on its floors,” Paul said with a hint of wistfulness in his voice.
Janet looked up at Paul, abandoned her dessert, and held out her hand. “This is the perfect song for a dance.” They stood together and walked over to the open space before embracing each other and moving in slow, coordinated steps. No matter how grating Janet was to Derek’s nerves at times, she was good for his dad, and he was happy for them. Would his outcome be the same as theirs if he told Izzy he loved her? He turned back to the table and took a gulp of his punch to quench the sudden dryness in his throat.
“That’s so sweet,” Izzy whispered, and Derek followed her eyes back to the dance floor. Mary was doing a clumsy side step with Atticus’s paws on her shoulders. The dog seemed to be enjoying himself, so Derek tried not to worry about the fresh stitches.
“Look,” Mary’s excited voice echoed through the open space. “Atticus can dance, too.”
Izzy chuckled, and the smile that rested easily on her face was brighter than the silvery gleam of fresh snow outside.
“Not too long, though,” Derek called. “Atticus needs to mind his stitches.” If he ever had children, he’d be a worrywart. His chair slid against the glossy wood floor as he stood up. “We don’t want to be the only curmudgeons sitting, do we?” He held out his hand, and a jolt pierced through him when she slipped her palm against his. Something had changed between them. He sensed she felt it, too.
“You? Worried about being a curmudgeon? It’s nice to see the holiday spirit has finally gotten to you.” Derek raised his arm and let her twirl underneath. Her face was flushed with joy. If he had a choice to stay in this moment for eternity, the decision would be easy.
He pulled her close so he could breathe in the scent of her hair. “Not the holiday spirit,” he murmured in her ear. “You.” Izzy’s heartbeat kicked up. He was holding her so close he could feel it thrum against the material of his shirt. She rested her cheek against his chest, and Derek lowered his chin to relax against the top of her head. They fit just right, and the room around them seemed to melt away like spring snow. Never had he been so keenly aware of his desire to just hold someone. To dissolve into their touch, taste, and scent. She’d come into his life and turned it upside down. He hadn’t wanted a relationship, certainly not love, but it had crept up and slapped him in the face. Now he couldn’t picture the library without her curled up with a book, or the kitchen without imagining their flour fight. In fact, he couldn’t see a future without Izzy in it at all.
He glanced up, and his family was sitting back at the table, eating dessert. How long had they been dancing like this, oblivious to everything? With his arm still draped around Izzy, they walked back to the table.
“We helped ourselves.” Janet grinned. “Dancing like that was probably dessert enough, but just in case.” She lifted the remaining cake and passed it to Derek. As he turned to serve himself and Izzy a slice, a green glint on the Christmas tree caught his eye. His lids narrowed as he tried to look closer. A pickle ornament? It couldn’t be. That thing had been stored in the attic for years, sealed up with the rest of his mother’s Christmas things. Besides, no one knew about that tradition aside from his father and Izzy. He glanced at the tree again, then at Izzy. She shot him a shy smile. What was she up to?
“We better clear up and hit the sack before Santa comes,” Paul said and pinched Mary’s cheek. She rolled her eyes, looking more like a preteen than a ten-year-old.
“I know you’re Santa, Dad,” she muttered and blew out an exasperated breath that puffed up a lock of her hair.
“Let an old man enjoy his role. I can’t sneak down with Christmas gifts until you’re dreaming of sugarplums.” His dad ruffled Mary’s hair, and there was a dull pain in Derek’s heart. His father had been blessed with a second chance, and now his life was full. What was his mother doing right now? Had she moved on as well, started a new life with a new family? He hated the unknown. She could be dead or alive, in pain or filled with happiness. They would never know, and it would always bother him.
He looked over at Izzy, who was helping Janet clear the table with a contented smile on her face. It was time. Time to move on and let go of past hurts, time to decide what kind of future he wanted, and time to embrace the fresh start with a woman he never thought existed.
“Atticus and I will take care of this.” Derek lowered his plate and let the dog lick it clean.
“Gross!” Mary squealed. This had turned out to be the best Christmas Eve he’d had since his mother left. Izzy had been right on all accounts, and he was grateful she’d all but shoved the holiday spirit down his throat.
“Really, I’ll clean up. It’s getting late,” Derek said, and after several good nights and hugs from Mary and Janet, his family disappeared into the hallway, all but Izzy.
Derek leaned in and kissed her cheek, enjoying her silky skin against his lips. Would the rest of her be so soft? Would she give him the chance to find out?
“Chefs don’t clean up.” He touched the tips of her loose curls. “Get some rest.”
“It was a great night, wasn’t it?”
“Best I can remember.” Derek offered her a grin, even though his body was thrumming with tension. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything.
“Me, too. Good night,” Izzy said. He watched her walk out of the room and then stacked the rest of the dishes quickly. He took the plates and silverware downstairs, dumped them in the sink, and filled the stainless-steel basin with soapy water. It was good enough for tonight. He had more important things to think about. He started back toward the ballroom, thoughts of Izzy racing through his head. The glint of the pickle ornament was visible a few feet away from the tree. She’d placed the ornament so it would catch his eye. He was touched she’d remember his mother’s tradition and go to the trouble of buying the ornament when she didn’t have much to spare. Derek held the branch it rested on with one hand and pulled it off with the other. His fingers connected with a strip of paper fastened to the back of the ornament. His heart leaped and began pounding against his rib cage. Fingers fumbling, he removed the paper and spread it open.
Tonight.
The single word flooded him with heat. Still gripping the ornament in his hand, he strode quickly toward his room, the craving for her building with each step. Derek held his breath and opened the door to his room. Izzy’s scent, toasted vanilla, lingered in the air. He swallowed, then rounded the corner to where she was sitting neatly on his bed, the lace dress clinging to every curve.
“Izzy.” His voice trembled when he said her name. “You’re sure?” God, he hoped so, because he couldn’t stand another second without her in his arms.
Izzy leveled her eyes with his. “I’m sure.”
A bolt of fire speared through him and tightened his stomach and pelvis. He was across the room in an instant. They came together like an avalanche, kissing desperately, touching everywhere. He slipped his hands under her dress, running them along her outer thighs, before reaching her hips and pulling them against him. Izzy gasped, and he slowed his pace. He was her first, and that was a big responsibility.
“Is something wrong?” she said breathlessly.
He shook his head. “How could anything be wrong when I have you right here?” They both were on their knees on the bed, facing each other. Derek released her hair from its clip, and it fell around her shoulders. He kissed her eyelids, her jawline, the sensitive curve of her neck while his fingers gently unzipped her dress. It pooled down onto the bed, revealing creamy skin, the smooth curve of hips, perfectly full breasts.
“My God,” he murmured, and skimmed his hands along her sides. “You’re stunning.”
How had a chance encounter led to this? These overwhelming emotions, overpowering needs. Derek might not be ready to speak the words that were in his heart, but he showed her, and when she murmured his name over and over again, he knew she felt the same.