“Mmm.” She chewed. “That came as a bit of a shock, but I’m over it now.”
“Why do you hate this time of year?”
“It’s frustrating trying to get anything done. Publications run on a skeleton staff, opportunities for coverage go down, people in the office walk round wearing ridiculous bits of tinsel in their hair—”
“That tells me why Christmas is inconvenient. It doesn’t tell me why you hate it.”
A few seconds passed.
“It just isn’t a happy time of year for me.” She said it quietly and he felt something tug inside him.
In the flickering candlelight he could see the thickness of her lashes and the smooth curve of her cheek. In her black dress, she looked younger. More vulnerable. Less like the killer PR expert and more like a woman. And he knew, deep in his gut, that there was some much deeper, darker reason for her dislike of Christmas than the inconvenience of the holiday season.
He remembered how pale she’d looked decorating the Christmas tree. She’d seemed as fragile as the frosted silver decoration she’d held in her hand.
“I’ll try to make sure you’re not subjected to too much Christmas during your stay.”
“Oh—” she smiled, back to being her detached, professional self “—it’s really not that much of a big deal.”
It was obviously a huge deal. He heard it in her voice and saw it in the way she held herself.
“So let me give you some tips about skiing tomorrow—” He steered the conversation in a different direction, entertained her with stories about skiing exploits when he and his brothers were growing up and saw the tension gradually ease out of her shoulders.
By the time they reached dessert—a delicate trio of French patisseries that would have shattered anyone’s resolution to forgo dessert—she was even laughing.
And she was still laughing as he drove her back to her cabin, regaling her with stories about Tyler.
“Seriously? He did that? It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed.” Smiling, she pushed open the gate. She’d pulled on her snow boots in his car, and she walked confidently now, but he noticed that when he took her hand she didn’t pull away.
The moon sent a ripple of silvery light over the snow-covered trees and she stood for a moment and breathed.
“It is beautiful here. Like being in our own world. The land of Snow Crystal.”
“Occupied by aliens,” he said drily, and she laughed.
“Occupied by brave fighters who refuse to be defeated by the big bad economy.”
The smile stayed on her face all the way to the cabin. It stayed in place until she glanced into her glass-fronted living room and saw the enormous Christmas tree twinkling with lights and silver stars.
“Oh.” Her tone was flat. “Who put that there?”
Jackson held his breath to prevent himself venting every swearword in his vocabulary.
“I’m guessing it was Alice.”
“Your eighty-year-old grandmother dragged a six-foot tree through the forest? That’s impressive.”
“I heard her talking this afternoon when she came back from her shopping trip. She thought you were upset because you weren’t home for Christmas.” And his mother had tried to talk her out of it, he remembered. Somehow, his mother had known Kayla wouldn’t want one. “She must have had Tyler help her or something. Hell, Kayla, I can—”
“No.” She turned, her smile as fake as the spray snow they used on the windows of the village store. “She was being thoughtful and I don’t want to offend her. I’ve done more than enough of that. It’s fine. It’s just a tree.”
But he could see it was so much more than a tree. It was a reminder of a time of year she hated, and it had killed their brief moment of camaraderie.
The laughter, the humor, the connection—it had all gone. She’d pulled herself back, like a turtle retreating inside the protection of its shell.
“Kayla, if you don’t like Christmas then you don’t want to be walking around that damn thing each time you go to the kitchen. I can—”
“I’ll just tune it out.” She was already walking up the steps, pulling away from him physically and mentally. “I won’t even notice it’s there when I’m working.”