Chapter Three
An hour later, seated with Kiersten in matching wooden rocking chairs on the main floor of the Mirror Lake Inn, Rachel inhaled the rich aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon wafting under her nose from her hot buttered rum.
They’d chosen a spot half hidden from the rest of the inn behind a huge display of poinsettias built into the shape of a Christmas tree. There were lots of little nooks around the resort hotel since it had been built as an Adirondack great camp originally, and the main building maintained numerous porches and alcoves. Here they could look out a wide picture window down onto the lake where a few skaters still took advantage of the lights to spin around the ice.
Kiersten had been thrilled to see her, insisting they enjoy a drink by themselves before heading back to Yuletide. The bride-to-be glowed with happiness and good health even after her eight-hour shift in the spa. With no makeup and her blonde hair knotted in a messy bun, she resembled an advertisement for her facials, her skin pink-cheeked and flawless. She wore rose-colored scrubs from the spa and still managed to look as lovely as any woman in the place. Skiers, hotel guests and local visitors mingled in the nearby bar, the sounds a pleasant din in the background while Ella Fitzgerald crooned a seasonal tune over the sound system near them.
Gavin’s parting words chased around Rachel’s mind.
“I do have holiday spirit,” she grumbled mostly to herself before sipping carefully at the hot drink.
She’d recapped her ride over to the inn with Gavin Blake, while carefully not mentioning that he’d invited her to Kiersten and Luke’s bridal party welcome dinner tomorrow. She wasn’t sure she wanted Kiersten to know about that ahead of time in case the bride-to-be needed plausible deniability when the whole escapade backfired.
“Actually, you told me that you’re allergic to Christmas,” Kiersten reminded her helpfully as she sipped her own mystery green protein drink from an insulated silver travel mug. “Remember?”
Leave it to friends to call you on your every contradiction.
“I was generalizing. What I meant was that I’m allergic to all things related to Yuletide.” She used her cinnamon stick to swirl the drink. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on, by the way. This is delicious.”
“I know exactly what I’m missing out on.” Kiersten pointed at her with the straw built into her cup of healthful shake. “I gained eight pounds after I started working here because they serve free cookies at tea time. Everything they make is amazing.”
“Eight pounds?” Rachel shook her head. “You wear it well.”
“Hardly. I lost the weight I gained after I picked out my bridal dress.” She grinned happily, chewing on her straw. “It’s so pretty I started drinking these hideous weight-loss shakes just to be fabulous for the gown.”
“That’s a good endorsement for a gown.” Rachel hadn’t thought about her design work for at least a few hours today—longer than she’d probably gone in the last five years without thinking about it. “If my clothing designs could have inspired weight loss, just think how popular my work might have been.”
She didn’t have the drive or the financial backing to build her own design house the way she once dreamed. But she had an online store where she custom-designed clothes for a small client base.
“You just haven’t found your niche yet,” the bride-to-be assured her, upbeat and confident in Rachel as always. “It will happen. Have you ever considered wedding dresses?”
“Not my thing.” She liked the vibrant flow of colors around her, the energy they brought to design. “Too white.”
“How about bridesmaid dresses? There’s obviously a market for good apparel there since everyone jokes about how bad bridesmaid dresses are. And I had a hard time finding anything too.” She hesitated, her gaze turning wary. “I hate that you’re not in the wedding. I should have just insisted and informed my future mother-in-law that you were going to be in the bridal party.”
“Too much drama.” Rachel shuddered. “I’m glad you didn’t make a stand with her over something like that. Save your battles for important things. Future offspring, maybe.”
Kiersten frowned, sighing out her exasperation. “You’re my friend, though. And it’s my wedding day, not hers. I should have stood up for you.”
Rachel set down her mug on the cocktail table nearby, wondering if now maybe she should tell Kiersten about her plans to attend at least one of the pre-wedding festivities. Maybe it would be better to warn her.
“Actually, Gavin made the same sort of comment on the way over here—about how he wished he’d stood up for me eight years ago on that day I’d rather forget.”
“Really?” Kiersten set her shake down and leaned forward in her rocking chair, her messy bun listing to one side. “Do tell. Did he say it in a way that made you think he wished you’d repeat that kiss from eight years ago?”
“No!” That was the problem with close friends. They had way too much dirt on you. “Of course not. He was just saying he felt bad that I didn’t feel comfortable in Yuletide.” She shrugged, downplaying it. But then she realized that wouldn’t be useful when it came to warning Kiersten she might crash the welcome dinner. “Although. Erm…”
“Did he already kiss you?” Kiersten pressed, her overly romantic brain treading down all the wrong paths.
“No!” Her voice went a little crackly just thinking about it though. “I just wanted to warn you that he had an idea for making amends.” She should have just said no and let Kiersten have her party. “He thinks if he brings me to your welcome dinner—as his date—that he’ll somehow buff away the rough edges of my standing in town.”
For a moment, Kiersten said nothing. Rachel’s stomach dropped. But before she could rush a retraction, Kiersten’s face lit up.
“I think he’s right. Everyone adores Gavin. Even my future in-laws, and they don’t like anyone.” Kiersten reached for her drink again, sipping thoughtfully for a moment. “I’d like to tell Luke ahead of time. Just so—you know. He’s ready.”
“It’s going to be a big headache for him with his parents, isn’t it? And with your mother.” Rachel recalled Katie Garrett’s trembling pom-pom collar and jingling elf bells as she’d battled her indignation last night. “My God, Kiersten. Your mother warned me not to stir up trouble for you.”
“No.” Kiersten set her drink down so hard some sloshed up through the straw, not that she noticed. “This is long overdue. We’ve let the whole thing take on a life of its own. We need to reclaim you.”
Doubts niggled. “If Luke doesn’t want me there—”
“I want you there. And that will be enough for Luke.” Kiersten spoke with the absolute authority of a woman who is well loved by her groom-to-be.
Rachel just hoped she knew enough about the whole dicey Harris-Chambers relations to understand what she was talking about. But she sure wouldn’t gainsay the bride when she was feeling emphatic.
“Okay.” Rachel realized she had just committed herself to facing down a lot of demons. With Gavin Blake at her side. She couldn’t deny that last part made her feel a little fizzy inside, in a good way. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m positive. And the party is at my house, so you have to sneak upstairs with me at some point and tell me honestly what you think of the bridesmaid dresses.”
“Of course.” With the wedding less than a week away now, Rachel knew she would lie through her teeth even if they were awful. “I may be glad for the chance to slip away, especially if the villagers start heading toward me with pitchforks and torches.”
“It won’t be nearly that dramatic. Besides, it’s Christmas karaoke. The locals are more apt to take their revenge with off-key renditions of ‘Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer’ until you run screaming for home.”
Rachel gulped, knowing perfectly well it wouldn’t be that easy. “I think my hives are coming back.”
Kiersten grinned. “But tomorrow you’ll have Gavin to scratch anywhere you might have an itch.”
Rachel swatted her friend’s knee and reached for a little more hot buttered rum, the drink warming her through and through. Although maybe that wasn’t from the drink but from thoughts of Gavin. She’d have to be doubly on her guard at the party with him.
*
Scooping up his truck keys from the kitchen counter that needed refurbishing—along with just about everything else in his new place—Gavin checked his watch before picking up Rachel. He had two more minutes—long enough to check the scores from the men’s slopestyle finals in Austria. He should have been with his team this week, even though he wasn’t competing in any big air or slopestyle events. His coaches weren’t happy about him putting a wedding before the team with just six weeks left before the Opening Ceremony of the next Olympic Games.
But Gavin had realized the last time he got caught up in Olympic fever that he couldn’t live that way. He wasn’t the kind of athlete who excelled by immersing himself in run after run or by spending all his waking hours with teammates. When he was younger, he’d tried to make his team into the family he’d never had. Or—more accurately—he’d tried to make his team into a better family than the parents who’d never shown up for a race until he was competing at the world championship level.
Too little, too late. But no matter what coaches tried to preach, a team couldn’t be your family. He needed balance, a lesson hard-won since his last invitation to the Games had ended without a trip to the podium. This year, he was training his way. And if that meant a week off for a friend’s wedding, so be it.
Although, he admitted to himself as he opened a screen on his phone with a feed from Austria, he hadn’t counted on Rachel being in the mix. Already he’d neglected his personal training routine more than he’d intended because she was in town. He’d skipped a weightlifting session this afternoon to shop for tonight’s festivities. But he couldn’t help doing everything in his power to make the evening special. To make her time here memorable.
To find out if he’d just imagined that incredible spark between them eight years ago. But that’s all he was looking for—some spark. Another kiss. He couldn’t deny that he’d thought about her plenty of times over the years.
Scanning the leaderboard scores for an update on the team’s progress, Gavin shot a quick message of support to one of the rookies who’d burned out in his most recent run and then he shut down the phone. He picked up the shopping bag and ventured across the alley separating his place from the Chambers’ house. Snowflakes swirled in the crosswind between the buildings.
His house—the Jingle Elf home—was lit up for the season but not open for guests as he’d only just purchased it and had a contract with the town to help with some of the necessary renovations. The “Construction Elves at Work” sign kept guests out for now, but one day, it would be as busy as the other North Pole residences on the main street, including the place where Rachel’s mom lived. He followed a young family into Teeny Elf’s cottage, the mom and dad narrating the whole experience for two wide-eyed kids who held hands as they crossed the threshold and peered around.
That was what Yuletide should be about. Not monetizing every idea that came their way.
“Hello, Gavin,” Molly Chambers greeted him with a cheerfulness that seemed genuine. She was an attractive woman, fair and pink-cheeked. Her elf costume jingled as she ushered the two youngest newcomers toward a train table that was set up at just their height. “You can go upstairs. Rachel’s ready.” She leaned closer to him for a moment and lowered her voice. “Although how you got her to say yes to this party, I’ll never know. I’m grateful to you, though.”
“You’re not going?” He thought all the town would be there. Especially since Rachel’s mom and Mrs. Garrett were close.
“We can’t let all the elves off at the same time.” She shrugged, perfectly serious, and he wondered if she had some of the same Chambers’ guilt-by-association that plagued Rachel.
Is that why Mrs. Chambers worked all the time and volunteered even more to keep the town running? The idea didn’t sit well with him and made him all the more determined to refocus the Yuletide council back on their original mission statement. Making Yuletide a fun place to visit and live. They seemed to have lost sight of that second part.
Along with a whole lot of Christmas spirit.
“We’ll bring you back some cake, Mrs. C,” he assured her before heading up the stairs to find his date. “Rachel?” he called to warn her he was there.
“I’m ready,” came the reply from the far end of the house. “That is, unless I can convince you to bail.” She appeared in the hallway then, wearing a red sweater dress nipped at the waist with a wide, patent leather belt and silver buckle.
Just like…
“Mrs. Claus.” He couldn’t hold back a grin. She looked incredibly cute. And sexy, too.
With black leather boots and her dark hair brushed to gleaming, she could have been on a billboard for the visitor’s bureau. Not that he would mention it. She waved him into the living room where the outdoor lights glowed green and red through the windows even with the blinds drawn.
Christmas decorations covered every inch of the place, even in this private space reserved for the family.
“Surprise, surprise, my mother just happened to have it lying around.” She rolled her eyes and stuffed a few mints inside a black clutch along with her inhaler. “I wasn’t sure how serious you were about costumes for a karaoke party, but knowing Kiersten’s family, I thought chances were good it will be over the top. And I don’t want to draw undue attention toward myself by not dressing the part.”
“You look great.” He couldn’t quite take his eyes off her yet, but knew he needed to keep things light. Not make her any more nervous than she was already bound to be. “I’m only sorry you won’t have a need for my present.”
He held up his shopping bag.
“A present?” The curiosity in her voice pleased him.
She couldn’t have dreaded this date quite as much as she’d pretended.
“I wanted to be sure you were covered in case you didn’t have a costume.” He thrust the bag into her hands. “Take a look.”
Sifting through some tissue paper, she seized hold of the white cashmere and pulled. And pulled. “Is it a scarf?” she started to ask. “It’s a vest.”
Reindeer cavorted all around the sweater vest that was long and loose, made to go over an outfit.
“An Ugly Sweater Vest,” he clarified, hoping she realized he was well aware of the garment’s questionable attractiveness. “It matches my Ugly Christmas Sweater.” He unzipped his ski jacket so she could see he wore the same prancing reindeer pattern on a black background. “That’s about as costume-y as I get.”
Laughing, she slid her arms into the drapey fabric of the vest. “And now, I’m over the top too. It’s perfect.” She admired the swish of the fabric in a tall mirror over the mantel. “Thank you.”
“I know I didn’t do your outfit any favors. But you look ready for a karaoke party now.” He held out his arm. “Are we ready to go?”
He spotted a moment’s hesitation in her eyes. Because of him? Or the drama sure to come?
“I’m ready.” Her voice rasped on a breathless note, but her spine straightened as she snaked a hand around his arm. “Let’s do this.”
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the Garretts’ house, outside of the village but still within the town limits. Here, the homes escaped the year-round holiday décor mandates of the board. If it hadn’t been December, there would be no signs of Christmas. But since the holiday loomed two weeks away—and because the Garretts were throwing a theme party for their only daughter—the big brick Colonial glowed with white lights.
Parking the truck on the plowed field across the street from the home, Gavin pocketed the keys and went around to the passenger side to help Rachel down. She’d grown quieter on the drive over, a surefire sign that nerves were kicking in.
“How are you doing?” he asked, steadying her arm as she stepped down to the running board.
She skidded a little since her boots weren’t really boots in the protective winter sense. They looked nice though. As did the rest of her. He wished he was taking her somewhere they would actually have fun tonight instead of an event filled with social consequences and gossip. But if he wanted to help her be comfortable in Yuletide again, he couldn’t see any way around it.
“Hanging in there.” She hugged her coat closer, a forest-green-colored cape that was different from the standard parkas and down vests in this corner of the world. “Reminding myself how much it would mean to my mother if I made peace with the locals and came home more often.”
She kept her eyes on the front door of the Garretts’ house where a wreath blinked with more white lights. A few other guests were entering the house ahead of them and a hint of music filled the crisp night air for a moment.
Hoping to distract her—and yes, wanting to touch her—he tugged lightly on the satin-lined hood of the cape where it rested on the shoulder closest to him.
“I like this.”
Her expression softened from grim resolve to an almost smile. “Thank you. It was one of the first designs I took all the way from sketch to completion.”
“You made this?” He stepped away from her to look at the cape again. “The whole thing?”
“Well I didn’t spin the wool myself or anything.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “But yes, I had the idea, drew it up, refined it a few times and then cut the pieces to start sewing.”
“You went to design school after you left here.” He remembered her talking about clothes—but not in the way other girls did. She sewed elaborate patterns on her jeans and skirts, never afraid to look different from everyone else. “Are you still in the business?”
He slowed his pace up the long driveway, curious to know more about her and in no hurry to share her just yet.
“I started designing as soon as I left Yuletide, eager to prove I could find success apart from my family.” She toyed with one of the ribbons that decorated the lacings on the front. “I think I wanted to distance myself from everything back here, and the sooner the better.”
“Clearly, you had a good product if what you’re wearing was a first effort.” He knew nothing about how clothing lines got started. His business degree was general and had been a way to spend more time in the Rockies, doing what he really loved.
“Well thank you. But great designs are a dime a dozen. I lacked an understanding of my market and distribution.” She shrugged, peering behind them as another car parked in the empty field across the street. “Launching a label takes intense research and plenty of financial investment. But then, learning things the hard way seems to be a recurring theme for me.”
“So what are you doing now?” Hearing the slam of a car door behind them, he pressed a hand lightly to Rachel’s back, guiding her up the brick walkway sprinkled with salt to help keep ice at bay.
“I’m still designing, but I’m fulfilling orders for custom clothing through an online store. I’m a one-woman show.”
“Good for you.” He could hear strains of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” coming from inside the house, along with the warble of a karaoke singer. “I am investigating my own options for a business after I retire from snowboarding.”
He still hated saying those words. The idea of retirement made him feel ancient.
“You should do a snowboard theme for Jingle Elf.” They walked up the stairs to the wreathed front door and she pressed the doorbell. “Or maybe change his name to Jingle ‘X Games’ Elf. You could sell some snowboard equipment too, give it some extra cache since you’ll be living there and would be a local attraction yourself.”
He couldn’t tell if she was kidding—X Games Elf might be her idea of a joke. But he was already picturing the coolest elf house on Main Street if he gave Jingle some modern edge.
He didn’t have time to ask her if she was serious or not though, since the front door swung open and an imposing man dressed as the Abominable Snowman answered the door, a few cotton puffs from his costume blowing off him and into their faces. Their host didn’t even look Gavin’s way. His gaze landed on Rachel and stayed there.
“Katie!” the snowman bellowed at the top of his lungs, loud enough to stop the off-key karaoke singer even though the music continued to play. “We’ve got trouble at the front door.”
Gavin’s hopes for the evening sank a few rungs. He would salvage this. He had to. But he hadn’t anticipated the date getting off to this kind of start before they even set foot in the door.
Picking the stray cotton off his parka, he thrust a bottle of wine in the snowman’s padded middle. “Nice to see you too, Mr. Garrett.”
Startled, Bob Garrett finally glanced his way. “Oh. Hello, Gavin. Good to see you as well.” He looked uncertain what to do without his wife by his side giving an opinion. He glanced behind him. “I’d invite you in, but—er—”
A few guests gathered in the foyer behind the host. A couple of reindeer frowned in unison while an ancient Mrs. Claus kept up a Greek chorus of “Oh dear. Oh my,” and an occasional, “Oh no.”
Gavin slid an arm protectively around Rachel’s waist, hating for her to be left standing in the cold for even one more second, but then Kiersten Garrett—dressed in a red “I’m a Christmas Bride” tee—appeared. Her cheeks were as bright as the shirt.
“Rachel and Gavin, I’m so glad you’re both here.” Nudging her father out of the way, she somehow enfolded both of them in her embrace and hauled them inside. In Gavin’s ear, she whispered, “You work the downstairs. I’ll take Rachel with me for a few minutes until things settle down.”
Grateful for an ally, Gavin was prepared to execute his marching orders. Only to realize his arm was still pleasantly wrapped around Rachel’s waist. Where it felt incredibly right.
Forcing himself to loosen his grip, he consoled himself by tipping her chin toward him for a minute. “I’ll see you soon. I’m going to sign us up for a song.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s about holiday spirit, remember?” He took her coat for her while Kiersten already tugged her toward the staircase in the foyer. “Do you have any favorite you want to request?”
She’d always been an amazing singer, wowing the town with her performances in talent shows and as a featured lead for Yuletide’s earliest tree-lighting ceremonies. Her father had found all sorts of places to put her talent to work, and Gavin had always liked hearing her sing.
“‘Redneck 12 Days of Christmas’ might be fitting,” she called as Kiersten kept up a steady pace along the garland-laden banister.
“Ouch. ‘Blue Christmas’ it is.” He gave her a thumbs-up, prepared to work the room. First on the list was Mrs. Garrett, barreling toward him like an avenging angel in a white gown and a teeter-tottering halo.
He just needed to get through an hour or two of holiday party hell and he could have Rachel all to himself again. The idea was exactly the motivation he needed to force a welcoming smile for the demonic mother of the bride.