A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) (14 page)

Suddenly he leaned forward and slid his hand behind her head. His head dropped and his lips covered hers.

It wasn’t a shy or tentative kiss. His lips were firm and warm and he kissed her as if he knew her, and remembered her and she shivered because it felt so right, even though it was so wrong.

She couldn’t kiss him, shouldn’t kiss him, and yet the pressure of his lips was achingly familiar. She lifted a hand to his cheek, breathing him in, her heart hurting. She’d once loved him so much. She’d never been happier than with him. As the kiss deepened her eyes burned and her chest squeezed tight.

Lock this away, she told herself, save the memory but end it now…

You must end this now.

And she did. She drew back, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect her heart. She felt shattered and she didn’t know why. He was the past. The past. And there was no place for him in the present.

Couldn’t be.

She curled her fingers into fists, nails digging into her palms. “That was wrong.”

He didn’t look at all apologetic. “So wrong but so right,” he countered, leaning against the doorframe, his huge body dwarfing her.

“No.” She hardened her voice. “And that can’t happen again.” She sounded flinty to her own ears. “I’m not single. Not available. And not interested in you.”

“You kissed me back.”

She swallowed hard. “It was the wine.”

“It wasn’t the wine. You had one glass.”

“I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re a liar, and I could prove you wrong right now—”

“And I’d hate you,” she interrupted hoarsely. “Do we really want to go there? Do we need to ruin everything?” She turned around and walked away, eyes burning like mad, chest on fire.

‡

S
he spent way
too long trying to fall asleep that night. Whitney tossed and turned trying to get comfortable, trying to relax, trying not to think of the kiss.

And yet at the same time, that kiss was all she wanted to think about. She wanted to let herself feel it…because it was amazing. She hadn’t wanted it to end, which is what scared her. Jason was a decent kisser but he didn’t make her pulse pound or her body come alive.

He didn’t make her heart ache.

He didn’t make her want…or hope.

While Cormac made her want so much…

Still.

She bunched her pillow beneath her cheek, squeezing it tight, squeezing all the emotion she was feeling into a little ball, before locking it inside.

It took her another hour to fall asleep, and when she did, her sleep was fitful at best.

She dreamed of Daisy and Cormac all night long. Some of the dreams were sweet and some of the dreams were strangely realistic but others were filled with angst and anxiety, dreams where Cormac was getting married and Daisy was the flower girl and then Cormac’s bride turned and she was very pregnant with a huge baby bump and Cormac was looking at Whitney mouthing
sorry
.

Waking from the last dream, Whitney rolled over onto her side and pulled the covers high up her chest and laid there, pulse pounding and heartsick.

It was too much being here in the in the same hotel with him. It was too much spending alone time with him. Too much going to movies and having dinner and walking with Daisy as if they were together…a family…

But they weren’t. She didn’t belong.

She had to do something to end the familiarity and intimacy. Needed to create distance and space so that her first thought in the morning and her last thought at night was not about
him
.

If he was going to be staying here at the Graff until his house was ready, she needed to find someplace else to live. This wouldn’t work, bumping into each other all the time. It might be convenient from a business standpoint, but she’d much rather have to rent a car or walk across town, than run into Cormac every time she turned around.

Eventually Whitney fell back asleep and when she woke again it was bright outside, the sun playing peek-a-boo from behind gray clouds.

This time she couldn’t remember her dreams and she was glad. She was also glad it was morning so she could get up and get going and find a place to stay that would be her place, not Cormac’s.

After showering and dressing, Whitney grabbed a copy of
The Copper Mountain Courier
, the local newspaper, from the front desk and skipped down the front steps of the hotel to get breakfast on Main Street.

She ended up at Main Street Diner across from Marietta’s old courthouse, but was surprised at how busy the diner was, considering it was a sleepy November morning. Not wanting to wait for a table, Whitney took a seat at the counter.

She ordered eggs and bacon and a cup of coffee and sipped the coffee while reading the paper waiting for her breakfast to arrive. Snow was in the forecast, the storm expecting to dump a good foot or two in the coming days.

She read the article on the front page of the community section about the parade next weekend and then a piece on the Marietta Stroll the weekend after. This year the gingerbread house competition would be held at the Graff instead of the bank.

Whitney enjoyed the small town news. So different from what she was used to reading at home.

Turning to the classified section, she skimmed the ads looking at furnished studio apartments and Rooms for Rent. There wasn’t much available, at least not on a short-term basis.

“Mind if I join you?” A deep voice asked at her elbow.

She glanced up to discover Kris Krinkles at her side. This morning he was dressed in a cherry red flannel shirt, sturdy dark denim jeans, and heavy boots. With his full snowy beard, thick white hair, and friendly blue eyes he looked like the real thing. He made her wish he were the real thing. Wouldn’t life be better if there was a real Santa Claus and magic hats that could bring snowmen to life?

“Please do,” she said, folding her newspaper in half so it’d take up less room. “It’d be great to have some company.”

He settled a dark leather duffel bag at his feet as he took the red burgundy seat. “You were studying that paper so intently I didn’t know if I should bother you or not.”

“I love a good diversion,” she answered. “And you’re the best kind. You make me smile.”

“That is the nicest thing I’ve heard all day.” He beamed at her. “I have another joke for you. Or is it too early?”

“I could use a good laugh. Tell me the joke.”

He leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “What do you call an elf that sings?”

She took in his bright blue eyes and the delighted curve of his lips. Some of the tension inside her eased. “I don’t know. What do you call an elf that sings?”

“A wrapper! A
rapper
. Get it?”

“Got it.” She groaned and laughed at the same time. “That was terrible. But good.”

“Terribly funny?”

“You’re lucky I like you.”

He chuckled. “I have lots of jokes. Kids are sending them to me all the time.”

The waitress stopped by to top off Whitney’s coffee and fill Kris’ cup and take his order. He wanted one egg fried and toast. The waitress moved on.

Kris doctored his coffee by adding a splash of milk and three packets of sugar.

“That’s a lot of sugar,” she said, amused.

“I have a sweet tooth,” he confessed before patting his round belly. “That’s how I got this.”

“But the belly suits you. The whole thing…it’s impressive.”

“Just trying to be myself.” He took a sip from his coffee before putting the cup down. “It’s none of my business but you seem a little down today, Whitney. And you can tell me it’s none of my business. I won’t get my feelings hurt but if you feel like talking—”

“I’m fine.” She put her hand on his red sleeve, patting it. He was the kindest person she’d met in years and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings but there was no way she could talk about Cormac with him. No way she could discuss Cormac with anyone. The only person who might have understood her feelings was April, and April was gone. “Everything is good.”

She gestured at the duffel bag at his feet. “You’re leaving Marietta?”

“Just for a few days. I’ll be back late on Friday. How about you? Are you here for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes. I’m here until New Year’s. And Thanksgiving…oh dear, haven’t even thought that far ahead yet, but I imagine I’ll be right here in this exact spot. Do you think the diner will be open for a turkey dinner?”

He chuckled. “It might be. But wouldn’t you rather be with your family? Where is your family?”

“I was born and raised in Bozeman, but my parents have become snowbirds. They’ve already headed to Arizona for the winter.”

“So why not go there?”

“I did last year but flights are expensive and since I’ve only just arrived I might as well stay put. What about you? What brought you to town?

“A job.”

“Did you get it?”

“Yes, I did.” His eyes shone with good humor. “The Graff Hotel has hired me to be their Santa Claus this year.”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “That’s fantastic. You’ll be a great Santa Claus.”

“I do my best,” he said with a wink, before glancing down at the paper on the counter. “So what are you looking for? Love? A puppy? A car?”

“A place to stay. My company has reserved a room at the Graff for me while I’m in Marietta, but I don’t want to spend another six or seven weeks at a hotel. I’m looking for a furnished apartment or a room to let, but there’s not a lot available.”

“Have you checked with the Bramble House? It’s a big red brick B&B over on Bramble Lane, just a short walk from here. I’m staying there when I return. Very nice people running the place. Mable Bramble and her niece and husband. You’d find it quite homey.”

Whitney reached into her purse for a pen and jotted the name Bramble House down on her newspaper. “The Bramble House on Bramble?”

“That’s it.”

“Thanks. I’ll definitely check it out.” She tucked the paper into her purse but stayed with Kris until he finished his breakfast.

“Just enough time,” he said reaching for his wallet and peeling off a number of one dollar bills. “I want to stop by Copper Mountain Chocolates and pick up something for the wife. Wouldn’t do to go home empty handed.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“I have a cab picking me up.”

“I can take you,” she offered, opening up her own wallet and pulling out cash and placing it on the check on the counter.

“No need. The Graff is covering the cab, and I’m sure you have more important things to do. Like finding a room someplace. Don’t forget about the Bramble House.”

“I won’t. I’m going to check them out today, but it’s early still. How about I walk with you to Copper Mountain Chocolates? I haven’t been inside yet and I’ve been meaning to stop in.”

“Can’t go wrong with that plan. Best chocolates in Montana. I think I’ve tried almost everything now. Sage—she owns the place—is always letting me sample new things she’s working on. Not sure if she’ll be in today but she promised to make up a special box for me to take back to Mrs. Krinkles.”

Whitney’s lips twitched at the mention of Mrs. Krinkles. “Is that really your name, Kris?
Krinkles
?”

“It is. You don’t like it?”

“No, I love it.” And she did. It was perfect. Maybe a little too perfect, which also made it cliché, but was that such a bad thing? What would life be like without imagination and magic and a bit of fairy dust? The last few years had been sadly lacking in magic and fairy dust.

Now yesterday at the movies and then the dinner at Rocco’s…that had been fun. It’d had a little magic and fairy dust sprinkled all over it. Even the kiss at Cormac’s door had been magical—

She ground her teeth tight and stopped herself there.

She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss…and how good it’d felt to kiss Cormac. And the very fact that she kept thinking about Cormac and his kiss made her realize she needed to do something about Jason.

As nice as he was, as attractive and smart as he was, Jason wasn’t right. He wasn’t the one for her. Not that Cormac wasn’t the one for her, either, but leading Jason on wasn’t the answer.

“There, you’re looking sad again,” Kris said. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Get some old Kris Krinkles advice?”

She smiled even as her eyes watered and she impatiently dashed the tears away. “I don’t know why I’m crying. There is nothing wrong. It’s just life. Stuff.”

“Life isn’t all fun and games.”

“Oh, I know that.” She double-checked the bill and made sure she’d left a generous tip before putting her wallet back in her purse. “The last few years have been a little rough. I’m ready for something good to happen.”

“That’s why it’s so important to keep believing.”

“I do.”

“Do you?” He looked at her closely. “Because miracles need hope, love and faith.”

“I don’t need a miracle,” she said huskily, slipping off the stool and putting her coat on. “I just need to get back to Denver.”

They walked to the door. Kris held it open for her. “Is everything so much better in Denver?” he asked.

Whitney had to think about that one as they stepped outside into the chilly morning. “No. But it’s not Marietta. It’s not…here.”