Risking It All for Love (A Christmas in Snow Valley Romance) (9 page)

I realized that with James, I could throw off the shackles of
guilt and anger that had caused me so much unhappiness and loneliness for so
long. As we stared into each other’s eyes, his crystal blue eyes sparked with humor
and mischief, letting me know that it was safe to risk my heart once more. To discover
a new life—and love—all over again.

The End

Other books by
Kimberley Montpetit

Paris Cravings
,
a Paris & Pastry
Novel

Please Visit her Website:
www.kimberleymontpetit.com

Kimberley Montpetit also writes under
Kimberley Griffiths Little

The Last Snake Runner
,
Random House
The Healing Spell
,
Scholastic Press
Circle of Secrets
,
Scholastic Press
When the Butterflies
Came
,
Scholastic
Press

The Time of the
Fireflies
,
Scholastic
Press

Forbidden
,
YA trilogy,
Harpercollins Publishers

Please Visit her Website for awesome book
trailers, Teacher’s Guides, and Book Club Guides:
www.kimberleygriffithslittle.com

About the Author

Kimberley Montpetit
(aka
Kimberley Griffiths Little
) once spent all her
souvenir money at the
La Patisserie
shops when she was in Paris—on
the arm of her adorable husband. The author grew up in San Francisco, another
swoon-worthy city, but currently lives in a small town along the Rio Grande
with her big, messy family. Kimberley reads a book a day to fill up her heart
and soul with words. Then she fills her stomach with chocolate chip cookies
while she revises.

Traveling
is another hunger Kimberley cannot ignore. So far, she’s stayed in the haunted
tower room at Borthwick Castle in Scotland, sailed on the Seine in Paris, swam
in the waters at Cannes, ridden a camel among the glorious cliffs of Petra,
sunbathed on Waikiki, shopped the maze of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, and
spent the night in an old Communist hotel in Bulgaria.

Lucy
McConnell

“Nothing
says Christmas like freezing your tail
off while waiting for someone to turn on the lights,” said Paisley, her breath
puffing in the air. She stomped her heavy boots on the already compacted snow
trying to get some feeling back in her toes.

“C’mon.
You know you wouldn’t have it any other way,” said her brother, Sawyer. He bent
over the stroller to tuck the blanket in a little tighter around his baby girl.

Paisley
smiled down at her niece, Journey, wrapped in fluffy pink from head to toe and
sleeping peacefully. Her adorable little nose was the same color as her pale
pink blanket. The tiny vision had no idea they were about to kick off the
Christmas season with a bang – literally.

At
eight o’clock on the dot, Snow Valley’s mayor would flip the switch to light up
Main Street and the huge evergreen tree in the middle of town. Then Buster
Write would set off his vintage WWI cannon two streets away, startling cattle
all over the valley and scaring sheep dogs under front porches.

“Do
you think she’ll wake up?” asked Paisley.

“Naw,
if she can sleep through my drums, she can sleep through Buster’s Bang.”

“The
only reason she can sleep through your drums is because music runs in her
veins,” said Amber as she squeezed through the crowd. She carried a cardboard
cup holder with four steaming hot chocolates in one hand and had her
four-year-old son, Peake, balanced on her left hip. As always, Amber looked
every bit the rock star. Her clothes, from her high-heeled boots to her thick,
fuzzy scarf, were edgy with just the right amount of class. If Paisley didn’t
love her sister-in-law so much, she’d have to hate her for being so beautiful.

Sawyer
took his son in one arm and a hot chocolate cup in his other hand and stole a
kiss from his wife that said he appreciated her look as well.

Paisley
made a face and Peake laughed.

“Are
we bugging you?” asked Sawyer.

“Seriously,
I think you two enjoy kissing in front of people.”

“All
the world’s a stage,” said Amber. She and Sawyer tapped their cups together and
Paisley rolled her eyes.

Amber
distributed the cocoas, reminding Peake to wait for it to cool off. He blew
into the hole in the lid, making an O with his lips. Amber pressed her hand to
her heart as she melted at his adorableness. She asked Sawyer, “Do you think
your mom and dad will come?”

Sawyer
shook his head. “Doubt it. Dad didn’t sound so good this morning.”

Paisley
looked around for her parents. Her dad threw out his back yesterday when he
lifted the turkey from the oven. Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t ruined, but the day
was one for the scrapbook. Dad ate standing up and mom pestered him to take a
muscle relaxer and lay down.

Paisley
checked the time on her phone. Fifteen minutes to go. Anticipating the
Christmas magic that sprang to life when the lights came on gave her the same
thrill as waiting up for Santa had when she was a kid. In the winters, the sun
went down long before 6:00 p.m. so the Parks and Rec. Agency set up fire
barrels around the town square. Families gravitated together, then called out
to friends and chatted as they waited for the official start of Snow Valley’s
Christmas season.

Breathing
in in the fresh pine scent coming from the twenty-foot tree, Paisley tipped her
head back to see the stars. Everyone in town knew everybody else and sometimes
the familiarity created problems, but tonight, under a blanket of winter stars
and warmed by pine-fed fires, Yuletide goodwill permeated.

Paisley
checked her phone. Five minutes. If her parents were going to make it, they’d
be there by now. She scanned the crowd to see if she could spot her mom’s
bright blue parka – the one she’d had since Paisley was thirteen and was
totally embarrassed that her mother would walk around in public in something so
old-lady-ish. She did one last sweep and a movement caught her eye.

One
barrel over a guy – a cute guy – in jeans and a designer coat,
waved at her. Paisley’s heart stuttered and she ducked her head, tucking her
dark mahogany hair behind one ear. The man’s blatant flirtation startled her.
She took two quick breaths and dismissed the idea that he waved at
her.
She
wore a thick coat and stocking hat. No way was she on her game tonight. He must
have been trying to get someone else’s attention.

She
checked over her shoulder to see if anyone waved back, but the Petersons
huddled close and stared at the small stage. Someone tapped the microphone and
Paisley turned her attention to the front, her cheeks burning with
embarrassment at being singled out.

As
Mayor Carl began a well-rehearsed speech on inviting the Spirit of Christmas to
Snow Valley, Paisley let her eyes drift back to the stranger. He had to be just
over six feet tall with wide shoulders. Dark hair peeked out from under his
stocking hat and, heaven help her, curled up in the back. A hint of dark growth
on his jaw gave him rugged appeal and Paisley wished she could see what color
his eyes were.
Please let them be brown
.

As
if he heard her silent plea, he turned to answer by raising one eyebrow and
producing a lazy grin with “come hither” written all over it. The firelight
illuminated his face with a golden glow.

Paisley
jerked her attention back to the stage and sipped her cocoa to calm the
butterflies in her stomach.
They’re brown.
Deep, dark, gorgeous
brown.

Dang.

Dying
to steal another look, Paisley forced herself to face forward, refusing to
flirt with him. She didn’t know who he was, but she knew one thing, strangers
never stayed in Snow Valley longer than it took to experience Christmas in the
town that does Christmas best. After snowmobiling, a romantic ride on the Polar
Express, and a few kisses in front of a roaring fire, they’d leave, taking your
heart with them.

Just
as her resolve slipped away, the square lit up with Christmas joy and Paisley
jerked at the cannon blast. Sawyer laughed at her, making some comment about
jumping like a newbie. She smacked him in the arm, thankful to have something
to focus on besides the man with the gorgeous eyes ... and smile ... and
oh-my-gosh those curls. Paisley stomped her boots again, this time trying to
jolt his brown eyes from her memory.

As
the crowd dispersed, Amber gathered their cups and took Peake to the nearest
barrel to watch them burn. Someone called Sawyer’s name and both he and Paisley
turned toward the voice. To Paisley’s horror, her handsome stranger headed
right for them. She squatted down to check Journey’s blanket and hide the way
her cheeks burned.

“No
way!” Sawyer grabbed the guy in a bear hug and pounded his back. “What are you
doing here, man?”

Obviously
Sawyer knew this guy, which made Paisley even more embarrassed she’d thought he
was flirting when he was just being neighborly. For the life of her, she could
not put a name with the face. In a town this size, grouping people together as
families was easy; but, this guy didn’t look like anyone she knew. Not that
being a stranger was a bad thing, oh no, on him, individuality looked good. He
probably thought she was a jerk for snubbing him. Well, she’d have to make up
for her inhospitable behavior. Standing up, she put on her friendliest smile.

“You
remember my baby sister?” Sawyer said pointing at her.

Thanks
for the clue.
She wracked her brain, sorting through her brother’s old friends, trying to put
a name with the hot dish giving her his undivided attention. An old friend
could be good – really good. Maybe he’d moved back to town after finishing
school and would stay longer than Christmas. This had possibilities written all
over it. Their eyes met once again and Paisley’s insides melted.

“How
could I forget our biggest fan?” He nudged her shoulder.

Great,
she was back to being “baby sister” material.
Thanks a lot, Sawyer
. She
shot her brother a dirty look. So much for possibilities.

“Clay?!”
Amber shrieked and flung herself into the man’s arms.

Clay.
Clay?
Paisley took a step back. “No way,” she said. Looking both ways to make sure no
one had heard her. Paisley coughed into her mitten. She glared at Amber,
wishing she didn’t feel so jealous of that hug.

“You
look positively transformed. What happened to the spikes and black lipstick?”
asked Amber.

Paisley
wondered the same thing. The last time she’d seen Clay Jett he was a skinny
seventeen-year-old with black spikes in his hair and a dog collar. The only
member of her brother’s high school band to try and make a living with music,
Clay headed west the day after graduation and hadn’t been seen since.

The
band didn’t hold his success against him. Although, there were times when
Paisley wondered if Sawyer and Amber envied Clay’s gumption. Of course, they
sang whenever they got the chance, the national anthem at the 4
^th
of
July picnic, Pastor John’s Easter sermon, and no funeral was complete without
Amber’s rendition of Amazing Grace. But, once they had kids, their family came
first. They made parenting look like so much fun, Paisley couldn’t wait to have
kids of her own. Not that she was in a hurry. All things in God’s time, as
Pastor John would say.

Paisley
had seen Clay’s dad in town, but never thought to ask about his son. She ran
her eyes up and down Clay, taking in the changes that were aaaaaall good. Even
in snow clothes he looked amazing. Who knew there was so much yum under the
back eyeliner and hair dye?

Sawyer
cleared his throat and warned Paisley with a look. She turned away and tried to
act as though she hadn’t seen him. Sawyer had “advised” her not to date the
guys in the band and Clay in particular.

The
warning came during her freshman year of high school. She and Sawyer were in
the basement, a fresh plate of sugar cookies on the amp and Sawyer tapping his
drum sticks against his thigh. Their dad gave permission for Sawyer to use the
unfinished basement for band practice as long as he watched Paisley after
school. The year she turned fourteen, a whole new set of rules came into play.

“They
aren’t bad guys, but they’re a lot older than you.”

“They
aren’t that much older. Sheesh. I’ve been hanging around them for four years. I
know them just as well as I know you.”

Well,
most of them. Nobody knew Clay. He didn’t even hang out with the band at
school. He just drifted through the halls in his shredded t-shirts and ripped
jeans.

Clay’s
choice in clothing never bothered Paisley, it was his empty eyes she stayed up
late at night thinking about. The dullness went away when Clay played his
guitar and she loved to see his eyes brighten – like watching the sun
rise over fresh snow – the energy took her breath away.

“We’re
seniors and you’re a freshman. There’s a big difference.”

Paisley
walked around the room, going through her pre-practice checklist and ignoring
Sawyer. She knew where the guys liked to stand and how tall Amber liked the
mic. No matter what she did, the height always needed adjusting.

“Okay?”
Sawyer pushed.

Paisley
tightened the mic stand hoping to get it to stay in place this time. “You don’t
have anything to worry about; it’s not like any of them would ask me out
anyway.”

“Who
wouldn’t ask you out?” asked Bill as he clomped down the stairs. Jeb, Amber,
and Clay, followed right behind. Bill had to duck as his feet touched the floor
to miss a low-hanging joist. Paisley smiled. When they started the Iron Stix,
the guys used to reach up and brush their fingers against the beam for luck.
Amber gave Sawyer a kiss hello before snagging a cookie.

Paisley
plugged in Bill’s keyboard, and said, “Sawyer’s worried I’m going to go all
Yoko on you guys.”

Bill
winked at her. “I’d ask you out to get your cookies, but since you give them
away for free ...”

Paisley’s
face flushed at his obvious reference to the old saying: Why buy the cow when
you can get the milk for free. She concentrated on the soundboard while Bill
plunked notes to help Amber warm up her voice.

Jeb
leaned into his mic. “Test. Test.” His voice echoed off the cement walls.

They
talked about throwing up padding to absorb some sound, but Paisley suspected
they liked the added volume. Playing in the basement was like singing in the
shower.

Jeb
pulled away and gave her a thumbs up. “I’d take you out, but Lizzie’s the
jealous type.”

Paisley
rolled her eyes. His comment was the equivalent of waiting for pigs to fly.
“Yeah, like she’d give you the time of day.”

Jeb
shoved a cookie in his mouth and chased it down with a swig of soda. “She’s
just playing hard to get.”

“You
wish.”

Jeb
turned to Sawyer, clearly offended. “She’s like our little sister.”

Sawyer
tapped the cymbal three times. “Can we just play?”