The Christmas Sisters

“I never wore my hair in bunches.” Posy shrugged out of her coat, showering snow onto the floor. “And the ‘wee wisp’ would love to be able to get to her beer, if you’ll excuse me.”

Geoff stepped to one side and let her sit down. “She’s the best mountain guide in these parts.”

“Hey! Can we get some service around here?” A man at the bar bellowed and Geoff’s benevolent expression was replaced by a scowl.

“You’ll have to excuse Callum. Why did you ever date him, Posy?”

“Lapse in judgment.” And she wasn’t ever going to be allowed to forget it.

That, she thought, was the major downside of living in a small community. You could never escape your mistakes, and Callum was most definitely her biggest one.

As Geoff walked away from them, she saw Luke glance toward the bar, where Callum was holding forth, and then back to her.

“You dated that guy?”

“What can I say? I was twenty-two. I didn’t know any better. We broke up after six months.” Thinking about it was embarrassing. Talking about it, more so.

His brows rose. “It lasted six months?”

“Half of that was me trying to work out how to break it off without having to move to a different part of the country.”

“I can imagine relationships can get a little awkward in a community of this size.”

“You have no idea. Callum was the first and only time I dated anyone from the village.”

“Who do you date now?”

“Mostly I seduce the people who rent the barn, and when I’m done with them, I drop their bodies in the loch. Slàinte!” She tapped her bottle against his, unwilling to admit how barren her love life was. “To a great day in the mountains. You’re not a bad climber, Luke Whittaker.”

/> “Thank you. You’re not bad yourself for a wee wisp of a thing.”

She paused with the beer bottle halfway to her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to give me problems?”

“Maybe.”

“Thanks for the warning.” She drank, and the beer was cool and delicious. All in all, she was in a good mood. Climbing did that for her. She’d inherited that love from her parents.

The focus required was almost like meditation. Out there in the mountains there was no anxiety or stress beyond the danger of the ice. There was only the thwack of her ax, the smack of the spike at the front of her boots, the flexing of muscle. Just her and the challenge. The rock. The mountain.

And, today, the man sitting in front of her.

In the center of the table a candle flickered in the jar, sending a glow of soft light across Luke’s features.

He reached for his beer. “The ice climbing here is incredible. More challenging than I expected.”

“I’m glad you didn’t fall and die.”

“Good to know you care, Wisp.” He lifted the bottle and drank.

“We need you to pay rent on the barn, that’s all it is. And don’t call me Wisp.”

They ordered food and chatted as they waited for it to arrive. He talked about the climbs he’d done in Yosemite, the Cascades and the Tetons. She listened and then pounded him with questions, thirsty for more information. What routes had he taken? How did the climbing differ from the Alps?

The conversation left her revved up and excited.

“You’re a good climber.” Luke finished his beer. “I’m surprised you haven’t been tempted to spread your wings and try some of these climbs yourself.”

She’d been tempted.