I'll Be Yours for Christmas (16 page)

A
BBY PANICKED WHEN
she walked out of Reece's kitchen, the scent of fire meeting her nose. Following it, she found Reece down behind the lower barn on his property, a fire burning in an area he cleared, and some contraption built above that held a wine barrel in place.

“I wondered what you were up to,” Abby said. He'd spent most of his time here since they had gotten back from Daytona the day before. She'd been constantly busy, too busy to investigate before now.

“It's a wine barrel,” Reece said, grinning.

“I see that. I knew your Dad was a cooper, but I didn't know you were.”

“I'm not,” Reece clarified, rubbing his hands together and leaning in for a kiss before he nodded to her to follow him into the barn. “Dad always tried to get me into it, but I was never interested. I forgot he had this workshop. I figured I'd see what I could remember, and looked up the rest on the Internet.” He checked the steaming barrel suspended above the fire. “That's my first one. We'll see what happens.”

“Wow, I am impressed. You are a man of many talents,” she said, reaching up to kiss him again and loving the smoky, earthy scents that surrounded them.

Still, something was off, and she'd felt it in the four days since they had returned. Since he had told her he was staying, she knew. It was what she wanted. She loved him, and she wanted him here, but some undefinable layer of tension seemed to run underneath them now, and while she thought it was good for Reece to get back in touch with his family's history and pursuits, he himself had said this was never his passion.

Driving was his passion, and he was giving it up, for her.

So she had made a few calls herself, namely, one to Joe, the man Reece had been talking with before. His number was left on Reece's phone, and Abby called, and talked to him, to find out if Reece really was out of the sport.

As it turned out, just the opposite.

News of Reece's test run had spread and, true to form, fans were cheering him on, wanting him back. Joe knew it, and sponsors knew it, and they were willing to give him some test runs in Europe, to see how things went.

They wanted him there soon, and they had been going to call him, when Abby had taken the tiger by the tail and contacted them.

Her chest tightened as she pulled back from Reece's increasingly passionate kiss.

“I have something to tell you,” she said, trying to sound normal, but her heart hurt a little, even though she knew this was the right thing to do. She loved him,
and that meant not having him just walk away from his dream for her.

“Yeah, can it wait?” Reece said teasingly, dipping in for another kiss.

She laughed, evading him, and putting a hand on either shoulder, she made him listen as she told him about her phone call to Joe.

Everything from confusion to disbelief to excitement passed across his face, and finally, he shook his head and pulled her in closer.

“I can't believe you did that,” he said huskily against her hair.

“I didn't do anything. They were going to call you anyway. And you know you have to go. Reece, you have to.”

He didn't say anything, but she'd seen the light, the hope, in his face. She wouldn't let him stay here and give it all up.

“So what do we do, then? I don't want to lose you,” he said, the emotion in his voice sincere.

“I guess we'll just have to see what happens. Maybe we can visit each other, definitely we'll talk on the phone,” she said. She feared her tone betrayed her, that maintaining a relationship that way probably wasn't realistic. “It'll only be for another few years, and then we could make some decisions about being together for good, right?”

 

R
EECE HELD HER TIGHT,
his mind spinning with the news. They wanted him back! But he also wanted to be with Abby. Conflicted, he didn't know how to answer her question.

He was on the circuit for months at a time. Some of the guys' families did stay home, especially when there were kids and other considerations. Not all of the wives traveled with their husbands, but a few did.

Still, those couples had the deeper connection of years together, a marriage to return to. He didn't know if what he had with Abby was too new, too tenuous to endure that kind of separation. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he lifted her face up to his, kissing her.

“Aw, Abby, don't cry.”

“I can't help it. I love you, and you love me, but I can't see how we can make this work,” she said, her voice tight and pained. “I want to, but…”

He held her tight, unable to stand that she was suffering, even a little, because of him.

He knew how to make it right. They could make it work—and they would. He was going back to Europe, and he had no idea what the future held, but he knew two things for sure: he had to at least try to get back to racing, and he couldn't lose Abby.

The answer to both seemed clear.

“Abby?” he asked, his heart thundering.

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?”

 

A
BBY WAS UP TO HER EARS
in satin, flowers and bridesmaids.

Two days before Christmas, the winery was decorated, and everything was ready for the wedding reception. She'd been working overtime—an understatement—to make sure it was all perfect.

Looking around at the young women in beautiful,
deep red satin Christmas gowns, it put to rest the notion that bridesmaids wore ugly dresses. These were chic and stylish, and Abby thought of the beautiful silk dress Reece had given her. It was far too light to wear, even indoors, in this climate, but she felt very proper back in her basic black business dress.

She lifted her hand to the emerald that lay against her throat. She hadn't taken it off since Reece had put it on for her that night in Florida.

The winery looked magical. Christmas lights were strung everywhere along the reception-room ceiling and through the entryway. He'd helped her string them before he left. It had only been four days and it felt like so much longer.

A fire crackled in the fireplace. The tables were set with fine white china, the glasses were sparkling crystal and Christmas bouquets of holly, poinsettias and white roses decorated each table.

The small band the bride and groom had hired was setting up in the reception room. Specialty bottles of different varieties of both Winston and Maple Hills wines, uniquely labeled for the bridal couple's special day, looked elegant on the tables, ready for each guest to take one home.

All they needed now was the bride and groom, who were taking a little longer arriving, so the bridesmaids and some of the groomsmen—also handsome in gray tuxedos with deep red cumberbuns—milled around, tasting appetizers and enjoying some drinks.

Abby felt incredibly alone even though she was in a roomful of people. Her throat tightened with emo
tions she had been fighting off since Reece had left for France.

He'd had to go. She wanted him to go. His sponsors were asking him to come back. No promises, but they were giving him a chance. It was exactly as Reece had predicted—everyone loved a comeback.

She wasn't about to stand in his way, and she made that clear by refusing his proposal. It had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. He wasn't angry, but he also told her he intended to keep on asking.

She figured he would, maybe, for a while. Then his life would take over, and he would know they'd made the right decision. Maybe, in a few years, things would be different, she thought, but found it hard to believe. So many things could happen in that time.

On top of that, Hannah was gone, too, staying in Florida with Brody. She had offered to come back, but Abby had released her from that responsibility. Abby was glad to take it on by herself, to have so much work to do that maybe she wouldn't think too much.

That would come to an end after the wedding, when she would close down through New Year's.

And do what? With whom?

Well, she thought, she had Beau and Buttercup.

She couldn't even move forward on plans for the reconstruction, since the city more or less closed down between Christmas and New Year's.

Reece had asked her to come to France for Christmas and stay the week. She was tempted. She'd never seen France, but would it just be extending the torture for both of them?

She didn't know if she'd be able to leave if she went there to be with him.

The fact was, though they loved each other, they had both chosen their individual passions over being together. Who was going to budge? Who should give up what they loved? What kind of foundation was that for a marriage? And how could they even think of getting married when they had only been lovers for less than a month? It was so unfair. It went against every grain of common sense she had, and at the same time, she knew he was the only one for her.

She was shaken from her reverie as applause scattered around her, growing louder with hoots and whistles as the bridal couple arrived, and Abby joined in. Sandra looked absolutely gorgeous, and as the party started, she took her place with the caterers and other party organizers, making sure all went well.

Seeing Sandra and her new husband so happy filled Abby with doubt—had she made the wrong choice?

Was being here more important than being with Reece, and supporting him as he made his way back onto the circuit? He would only be racing for another few years at most, and then they could open their own winery, wherever they wanted. Everyone else in her life was gone, out living their lives, but this was her life, her dream—wasn't it?

She didn't know anymore. What was the right thing to do? She had so many plans to revive this place, and at the very least, she needed to be here during the rebuilding to see that through.

Her heart was heavy, and she was exhausted as the hours wore on. Late in the evening, the caterers gone,
the party was still lasting long past her ability to stay. She needed to be alone, to go off and lick her wounds in private.

As she started back toward the house, she saw headlights turn into the drive. It was very late for anyone to be arriving—a late wedding guest maybe?

The car came closer, and her heart leapt as she recognized the driver. She ran toward the car as the door opened, feeling happy for the first time in days.

“Oh, Mom, Dad! I'm so happy you're here!”

Her parents had no idea what to do when she launched herself at them and broke down in tears.

 

T
HEY WANTED HIM BACK.

While the younger guy who had been in line to replace him had been close to doing just that, the media coverage of Reece's trial in Florida, coupled with an interview that hit the French and U.S. papers, had fans insisting they wanted Reece back on the track. The response was overwhelming, especially online, and Reece had as hard a time believing it as anyone.

He should have been thrilled.

Snow was falling in Paris as he sat in a conference room with his manager, the car's owner, the sponsor reps and God knew who else. They had been talking incessantly about new acupuncture methods, hiring him a personal physical therapist and doing whatever was necessary to get him back in a car, winning races.

It was what he wanted, so why was he sitting here thinking about what Abby was doing? Today was the wedding, and she was probably so busy she hadn't even
thought of him. He'd sent her an e-mail, left her a phone message earlier, but hadn't heard back.

He still couldn't believe she had made that call—she hadn't set any of this in motion, of course, but the fact that she had been willing to let him go, to put his dreams first, still stunned him. If it was possible, he loved her more every time he thought about her.

He didn't know how he was going to manage it, but he wasn't going to lose her. She'd said no this time, and that was fine. She was right, again. It was too soon, maybe he had proposed for the wrong reasons. He had been desperately trying to find a way to make it all work, but he knew he really did want her, and only her, in his life. Maybe she'd say yes the next time, or the time after that.

He didn't plan on giving up.

“Reece? Can you be in Italy in two days? You can start training now. We want you back in shape and ready to go as soon as possible,” his manager said. Tony was a good guy, but Reece swore he saw dollar signs flashing in his eyes for a moment.

Reece wasn't a person—an actual human being—to anyone gathered in this room. He was a commodity, a product.

He listened as they discussed liability issues, if the car would be covered, how much they stood to lose if he crashed again, what the risks were with insurance if anyone thought he wasn't up to racing in the first place.

He was. Even with his problems at Daytona, he knew he could do it. No more cold hands or nerves at the
thought of getting behind the wheel, but what if the worst happened?

He could care less about the car, or anything else. His doubts weren't borne of fear of dying, but of fear of never seeing Abby again. Could he live with that?

No.

“Reece?” Tony asked again, sounding irritated. “I hope your focus is better when you get back in a car,” he said.

Some muffled laughter and commentary met the remark, and Reece smiled. He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

“Two days from now? That's Christmas day,” he said, sparking off a round of confused glances around the conference table.

“So what? You need to be on this ASAP and 24/7 if it's going to work. The docs will clear you, but only if you sign a contract and follow the physical regimen to the letter.”

Reece looked out the window at the snow, thinking, of all things, about Abby's pork roast. That was certainly not going to be part of his training. He'd invited her to come see him next week—but now he would be in training, out of touch twelve to eighteen hours a day, every day.