Her Wish Before Christmas (Holiday Hearts) (2 page)

“Ouch.” She leaned over to rub at her injury, fast enough to smack her forehead on the side of the same cabinet. “Dammit.” Tears burned as pain shot to the bridge of her nose. The scratching sound of a glass pane loosening from its worn-out hold in the door echoed in the quiet space. Frozen, one hand on her head, the other on her knee, she held her breath.

Whew. Nothing
.

She straightened and took a tentative step.
I didn’t hit it that hard
. She jumped at the loud crack of shattering glass.
Great! Lights out, and glass all over the floor. Only I could do this to myself
.

The oak five-shelf curio cabinet was a newer piece she had thought in better condition. It was one of the last pieces her grandmother had acquired on her own and had been meaning to refinish.
Going to need more than a new stain now
.

Six small tiptoe steps around the cabinet with fingers crossed she was safe.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Sharp spasms of pain followed the quick prick to the ball of her foot. The shard pressed against sensitive nerve endings with every move she made. Genny limped toward the wall switch, flooding the room with light, and on to the back room for a towel, leaving bloody half-footprint smears in her wake.
It’s going to take forever to get this cleaned up
. Resigned to missing a pint and a chance to ogle the cute bartender, she sat on the counter, propped her foot on the sink, and grabbed a paper towel to stanch the flow.

Hissing between her teeth, she picked the thin shard out of her skin. How could such a small sliver hurt like hell and bleed so much?

The
crunch
of glass and a soft curse echoed through the store.

She hopped down and balanced on one foot as she slipped a pair of her grandmother’s gold-embroidered house shoes. She grabbed the broom hanging from a hook on the wall and pushed open the swinging door.

“Cilla, I’m about to clean—”

Not Cilla. A man holding a leg-shaped lamp base like a bat ready to swing at a ball. She backpedaled and threw the broom at him. Unbalanced as she was, with one foot barely touching the floor, she landed with a hard
thump
on her rear. The air rushed out of her before she could scream.

“Genny? Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

She was too busy catching her breath to speak.

“Are you the one leaving bloody footprints in the store? Your grandmother’s going to have a heart attack.” The man stared down at her, holding the door open with one arm, the lamp base in the other. He rested the plastic appendage against the doorframe and took a step closer, his face clear in the light of the workroom.

“Connor?”

“Let me have a look.” He knelt and grabbed her foot and held on tight when she tried to tug it back.

“Ouch.” She pulled her foot away from his prodding.

“Sorry. Cut’s not too deep. A Band-Aid and some Neosporin is all you need.”

Connor O’Rourke?
The
Connor O’Rourke? Twelve years hadn’t changed him much.
Except he turned into a man
. And one fine man at that.

Jesus, did he grow after college?
His arms and chest sure had.

Heat blazed a fire across her cheeks when her roaming gaze met his. Same cocky grin. Embarrassment couldn’t stop her from comparing this Connor with the then Connor. His hair was cut shorter, but the rich chestnut color hadn’t dulled. No hint of gray at the temples, no balding either.
So that night of drunken cursing for him to grow fat and ugly didn’t take. Figures. What’s the use of gypsy blood if my curses don’t work?

“I didn’t know you were in town,” she asked, proud she had kept the hysterical out of her voice.

“I wasn’t until this week. I’m setting up a practice at the new clinic down the street.” He stood and helped her up from the floor.

Connor F’ing O’Rourke back in town and looking too delicious by half. She licked her lips and swallowed at the sudden dryness in her mouth. The hurt and anger returned with a swift jab to her heart rivaling the sting of glass in her foot. The feelings so fresh, like she was eighteen again and waiting for the proposal that never came.
Don’t go there. You’re over him
.

“Thanks,
Doctor
O’Rourke. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.”

Genny slid the old-lady house shoe on her foot and stood, refusing his outstretched hand. How could he waltz in here and expect to talk to her as if he hadn’t crushed her heart and made her hope he’d never return to Laurel Cove?

“So, are you back for good or just visiting your grandmother?”

Genny held her hand up, tears stinging her eyes. The town gossip mill had spread the word for her, and she hadn’t had to tell anyone what happened.
What the hell were the gossips doing, leaving him out of the loop?

“I meant to stop by earlier but got caught up at a meeting. I know she’ll have some ideas on what I could use to decorate the waiting room.”

“Nona passed away a few weeks ago.” She couldn’t get anything more around the lump in her throat. Saying the words brought the sorrow rushing to the surface and, along with his surprise return, pummeled her already bruised soul.
I am not going to cry in front of him
.

She tried to skirt past him into the store. He stepped in front of her, and she found herself embraced by strong arms before she could turn away. The feel of his broad chest against her cheek and the warm smell of cologne and the sheer compassion of his hug burst the dam. Small circles stroked on her back and a light kiss pressed to the top of her head were more comforting than she could resist, and tears continued to fall against her will.

“I’m sorry, Genny. She’ll be missed.” His voice hitched.

Is he getting choked up about my grandmother? He can’t do this to me
. She pushed away and took a step back. Clearing her throat, she brushed the palms of her hands over her face to dry her cheeks and tried to gather control.

“Better?” He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. Genuine concern deepened the lines on his forehead. “What happened?” Sorrow tinged his features and stoked a longing in her she thought she’d buried years before.

“Stroke.” She sniffed and took a deep breath.
I can do this
. “Cilla found her in the store. We think she fell and hit her head. Passed away a couple weeks later. I’m sorry no one told you. I guess your parents didn’t know.”

“I guess not. Mom’s in Florida, and Dad’s in Arizona. I don’t talk to them much.”

There was a sober acceptance in his statement. A maturity that wasn’t there before. Age had added depth and character to his handsome features. A slight crinkle at the corner of eyes flecked with green and gold enhanced the boy-next-door appeal of his looks.

Words failed her. Refusing to drown in awkward silence, Genny picked up the broom and headed to the spot where the evening had taken a turn for the worse.

He stood close to her with the dustpan while she swept up a pile of glass. His stare weighed down on her, clashing with hers every time she looked at him. Careful of the remaining panes of glass still in their respective doorframes, she braced her hip against the side of the cabinet and tried to slide it over to get to the fragments underneath. Crafted out of solid oak, it didn’t budge. She propped the broom against a nearby chair and pushed with both hands.

“Just going to stand there, or are you going to help a girl out?”

He took hold of the other side. His added strength tipped it, shifting the items displayed on the shelves.

“Easy. Just a few inches.” The cabinet swayed, then settled. A cluster of bowls and ornaments on the open top shelf rocked and one fell out. Connor caught the intricately carved wooden dish in a chest hug. The contents spilled over him and across the floor.

“Good catch.” He shrugged and remained quiet, his focus never leaving her face.

“Oh, man, I haven’t seen these in years.” She bent to gather the necklaces and small scraps of paper that had fallen out.

“What are they?” He leaned closer, his hand brushed hers sending sparks of awareness firing over her nerves. Warmth radiated from him, cocooning the moment from reality as he examined one of the pieces of gold-foil paper.

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just something my sister and I used to play with as kids.” Genny tucked the items into the bowl and back onto the shelf.

“You were never a very good liar, Genny.” Connor smiled at her.

His charm was hard to resist.
I can’t forget lessons of the past that easily
. The questions she had buried tumbled into each other. She’d fantasized about this moment so many times and all the answers she wanted to demand. But she refused to open old wounds.

“Thanks for your help. But I’ve got this. I’m sure you have more important things to do than help me clean up my own mess.” Her hands strangled the smooth plastic of the broom handle as she concentrated on sweeping any missed corners. Anything to keep from saying what was really on her mind.

“I do have to run. I just stopped in to say hello.” He stepped close and looked at her as though he had something more to say but closed his mouth in a hard line.
Within kissing distance
. Why did her mind go there? He brushed a hand across her cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A familiar gesture that used to bring her so much joy. “Good night, Genny. It was good to see you.”

Watching him leave, she swallowed the urge to call him back. The abrupt dismissal bit deep. He’d broken her heart when she was eighteen and ready to marry him—the shards of a shattered heart far sharper than glass.
What the hell do you do when the love of your life strolls in after more than a decade apart?
The bells on the door interrupted her thoughts.
Is he back for more shocking announcements?

“Was that Connor O’Rourke I saw walking out of here?” Cilla rushed to Genny and stopped abruptly. “What happened?” She gestured to the broom and pile of broken glass.

“I had an accident with the cabinet.” Genny focused on sweeping, catching any stray shards. “And yes, he’s moved back.”

“Really. He’s back. You’re back. And right before Christmas. What did he want?”

“Don’t go there.” Genny jerked her head to meet Cilla’s probing stare.

“So you do remember your fortune.” A glimmer of smug
I knew it
tainted her words.

“I also remember him dumping me on Christmas Eve.” She pushed the broom at her sister. “I’m not talking about him or fortunes right now. I’ll clean up the blood in the morning.” Ignoring the sting from her cut, she shoved her feet into her boots and abandoned Cilla. No more question and answer sessions that night. Years. She’d had years to get over him.

You haven’t
.

Not you, too
. Genny ignored her grandmother’s voice in her head. Her life didn’t involve Connor. Not anymore. A mature, successful woman could handle seeing her first love again without melting into a puddle of wounded rejection. Connor wanted to act like old friends. Old pals. She could do that.

Lying to yourself is a waste of energy.

Shut up
.

Why did she have to find those damn charms? Huddled into her coat for the short walk home, the goose bumps that tingled her scalp and covered her arms weren’t from the cold.

Sorry
. Even in her mind, she couldn’t get away with being rude.

Genny’d had more imaginary conversations with Nona since her death than any other time in her life. She’d never questioned the special connection they’d had since she left home. Sure, they wrote letters—a dying art the cousins wanted to keep going. But even with letters and sporadic phone calls, her grandmother always seemed to be in her thoughts. And still was.

Genny remembered every word of those damn fortunes. Undoubtedly, so did her sister and cousins. They still believed. She’d had such confidence in that nonsense when she was younger. They all trusted the story that their nona was a gypsy and had special powers. As little girls, they pretended they would also one day grow up to be great gypsy fortune tellers.

Don’t lose faith.

I grew up. I don’t live on faith anymore
.

Genny Ridgeway was back.
God, she smelled good
. Just as he remembered, sunshine and spring flowers even in the middle of winter.

Still mad as hell at me. But not wearing a ring
.

Hope buried the regret he carried for the selfish choice of breaking up with her in college. She’d moved on and found a dream to pursue, as he’d known she would. As he’d wanted her to. When his parents divorced and moved away from Laurel Cove, he lost his source for keeping track of her. Assuming he’d find out she was happily married, he’d used unpacking and getting his clinic set up as an excuse to put off visiting her grandmother’s store, never expecting to run into Genny herself.

He’d left, pursuing bigger and better things for himself, never intending to return to his hometown. As life went, he’d spent every day of the last five years working to return.

He couldn’t help wondering how good life would be if Genny had been with him along the way. But he wouldn’t have his son, a blessing he would never wish to change.

Connor stomped light snow off his boots before entering the updated cottage-style house he had closed on two weeks previously. The smell of burning meat alerted him to the whereabouts of the home’s occupants.

“Hello.”

The blare of the smoke alarm started as he stepped through the dining room and into the kitchen. Jake sat at the small kitchen table holding his hands to his ears, and Ellen, their part-time housekeeper and nanny, was running water over a smoking pan in the sink. He opened the back door as he passed to let in some fresh air.

“Daddy!” Jake’s wrinkled frown turned into a smile only a six-year-old could give as he rushed to Connor and jumped with the trust of a child that he would be caught and hugged. Connor stood on a chair to peel the alarm from the ceiling, quieting the noise.