Soldier's Christmas (Wingmen Warriors 8)

"Actually, Mom told Darcy to leave the half-painted ornament just like it was. She wanted us to remember that we are a work in progress and to keep improving." Her sigh wrapped around the tree, around him. "So that year, she put up all the pretty ornaments. It was a gorgeous tree, no question. But when Mama went to an Officer's Wives Club Christmas tea one night, Daddy brought us construction paper and glue and glitter and popcorn string. We worked for two hours straight to junk up Mama's tree."

"I bet she loved it." His head thunked back against the trunk.

"She really did. It was a perfect Christmas with snow. A couple of weeks later, she died from a fluky aneurysm."

Ice chilled inside him colder than outside. He'd known her mother died, just not when. Which proved how little talking of any importance he and Alicia had done over the past year and a half.

How ironic that the view in front of him—trees, snow, a star streaking through the darkness—resembled a picture-perfect scene worthy of any Christmas card, and yet it carried such deadly undertones. Just as that year had for her, only she'd been unaware of the lurking tragedy, something they shared in common after all.

He reached around the tree trunk to rest a hand on her arm. She probably couldn't feel the gesture through the layers of winter gear, but he couldn't keep his distance.

"The first Christmas without her was hard. I knew there was no way I could make things better for Dad, but I really wanted little Hank and Darcy to grow up with holiday memories, too. Maybe not as cool as the ones Mom would have made with us, but they would have their stories to tell."

"What did you do?"

"I had Dad take all three of us to a big Christmas mall. We shopped for hours trying to pick out a creche. Except I'd like the Mary in one, but the lambs were goofy. Darcy wanted a certain angel, but thought the Wise Men looked creepy. Then I remembered Mom crying over that perfect tree because she wanted her hodgepodge one back. So, we just played mix and match. We bought our favorite piece from each set to create a whole new set that was uniquely our own."

He could see her, so young herself but taking charge while recognizing the beauty of their individual tastes. How could this woman tempt him in the middle of a blizzard when he couldn't even see one inch of her luscious body?

Josh cleared his throat, if not his thoughts, that were tumbling faster than a plane in a barrel roll. "So that explains your clothes."

"Huh?"

"No matched sets."

"Oh. No." Her laugh floated round, packing more of a punch than her sigh. "Actually, I just don't have any fashion flair since there wasn't anyone around to teach me. Hey, scratch that last part. It sounds un-PC and totally ungrateful to my dad. But he wore his uniform all the time and didn't have a clue about clothes. A couple of the other squadron wives tried to help, but, uh, you may have noticed I'm a bit prickly in the pride department."

"No? Really?"

"Smart-ass," she answered, but her tone was lighter, and damned if those two words didn't sound a little affectionate. "I knew they meant well. Maybe I didn't want to shop without Mom. Who knows? But those pity looks really bugged me. So next time we went somewhere, I deliberately mismatched. I found I liked it better than 'normal,' anyway. Now, after wearing a uniform all day, playing with colors is fun."

Fun. That described Alicia well. Dating her had been a wild ride, full of the unexpected. Like the time she'd called and insisted he put on his mess dress uniform before she arrived. She'd been wearing a hot-pink formal gown with ridiculous ruffles. Since he'd never had a senior prom, she'd planned to treat him to the whole experience...a few years late.

At the first sign of resistance from him, she'd threatened to make him wear a tux with a fuchsia cummerbund and bow tie to match her dress.

He'd relented—and had an uninhibited blast.

Ah, shit. He didn't want to remember falling in love with her. He needed distance from Alicia, a damned tough proposition considering they were stuck in a tree. "So back to your cotton panties. What color are you wearing under all those uniform layers right now?"

God, her husband could be such an ass sometimes. And right after being so sweet listening to her sappy childhood stories and distracting her from her numb toes.

Nothing to do but ignore him and his obnoxious question, try to forget the steady comfort of his hand on her arm while she'd talked about her mother.

Wind whistled through the trees even though the storm had eased. Thank heaven they weren't out in the open and only had to wait a few hours until daylight. Still, her hands shook from the cold. She ached all the way to her bones from sitting still so long.

She tapped her thumb against her pinkie in a quick check to make sure her fingers still worked. Which made her worry about Josh. While she wouldn't see her siblings for Christmas since they were all stationed at different Air Force bases, at least she had siblings to call, unlike Josh.

Sympathy tweaked harder than the bite of bark pressing through her protective clothing. "What holiday memories do you have?"

"More traditional ones, I guess. My mother collected menorahs, some really fancy like your mother's perfect tree and others that would probably fit in with your more eclectic tastes."

"Which one was your favorite?" The classic beauty or the eclectic surprise? And now, wasn't that fishing for a flipping reinforcement that maybe she'd been at least partially right for him during their short-lived, messed-up marriage?

"This one my nonni has that looks like a moose."

A moose?

Eclectic, sure, but not quite the complementary analogy she'd been seeking. Still, his quirky answer warmed her frostbitten feet that just happened to be sporting quirky reindeer-patterned toe socks under all the other layers of socks. "A moose? How so? I'm having trouble picturing it."