13. Emmie

Emmie

CHAPTER 13

When I wake up the next morning, hungover from kissing Alex, decorating for Christmas, and telling him about my family, the sky is finally clear.

At last, the storm blew itself out like a candle, but instead of leaving the world cold and dark, it’s pure marshmallow sunshine—never mind walking on clouds, I’m bouncing on them.

The view out the guest room window reveals sparkling rolling hills, icicles hanging from the eaves of the barn, and boughs of evergreen trees frosted with snow.

Everything is so still, so peaceful.

It’s nothing like the hustle and bustle of the city.

I like it. A lot.

It’s a Christmas card scene and makes me regret how crabby I’ve been about the holidays when there is so much beauty in the world. I just wasn’t looking in the right places.

When I think about Alex, the bah humbugs go nuts.

I didn’t mean to be Grinchy yesterday morning, but like every year, I slide toward Christmas like a new skater on rough ice.

With just a day before Christmas Eve, I am considering booking a flight to Miami, but I should check in with Alex to make sure we can coordinate the drive to Salt Lake City, if the roads are clear. That’s not something I have to think about back in New York, but I don’t miss the slush, the rush, or the loneliness.

After tugging on leggings and a sweater—the clothing options I packed for cold weather are getting sparse—I go downstairs.

Alex stands in front of a Christmas tree framed by the massive window overlooking the property. He’s so solid and strong. Caring, capable, and confident but not cocky. Oh, and have I mentioned he’s incredibly handsome? Hot? And his voice!

The bah humbugs take flight and I practically float across the room. “Good morning,” I call.

Alex turns, wearing a dimpled smile. “Good morning to you too. Someone is merry and bright today.”

I lift and lower my shoulder. “I guess I’m feeling Santa-mental.” I pause. “That doesn’t sound right. I meant it like sentimental.”

Alex chuckles. “That’s better than Grinch-a-rific.”

I shake my head and laugh. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Is this a race to the bottom? To see who can come up with the worst puns and made-up Christmas-related words?”

“You do remember calling me a wordsmith, right? It’s literally my job. We can declare me the winner now.”

“Fair point. There’s no contest. Moving on so I can maintain my dignity, I’m going to head into Holidayle and pick up some lights for this big boy. Should we go with white or colorful?” He gestures to the tree.

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“You’re on decorating duty...unless you want to drop and give me one hundred.”

Swishing my lips to the side, I take his threat seriously. Pushups and I are not friends. “Colorful lights are fun and playful, but this tree is grand, majestic. If you plan to decorate it with your grandmother’s angel ornament collection, then I’d say go with white. It’s classic.”

“Perfect. You could be one of Santa’s elves. ”

I grumble, but the canned response feels old, stale. Just the way I’ve acted about Christmas for as long as I remember despite my brothers’ best efforts to make sure I had a holly jolly good time.

“I was also going to stop at HQ. If you’d like to join me, we’re going to deliver the wreaths and meals today.”

“Sounds like a full schedule.” A busy day during which I will not be getting on an airplane. I wouldn’t want to interfere with Alex’s charity work.

His dimpled smile grows. “Excellent.”

Glancing down at my outfit, I say, “Maybe I should go change.”

“What’s wrong with this?” Alex asks.

“Well, l shouldn’t wear leggings out?—”

“They’re comfortable, warmish?”

“Well, yes. They’re also my preferred attire. But I want to seem professional, an author from the city who you could take seriously and trust with your story.”

Alex’s eyes roam over me, grazing my legs and lifting toward my eyes. “I vote for leggings.”

A pleasantly warm flush washes over my cheeks. “Are you sure? They’re what I wear around the house...and on my peppermint mocha runs after I gave up trying so hard to fit in”

“You fit in here and they fit you very nicely.” His lips quirk.

I draw a deep breath, trying to accept the compliment when for so long there haven’t been any.

“Also, Emmie, I trusted you with my story before we met in person. It’s one thing to relay facts. It’s another altogether to experience the associated feelings, process them, and let them go. You’ve helped me heal. I’m forever grateful for you and,” Alex pauses, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip, he then adds, “for the leggings.”

“What do you mean?”

“About the leggings? They look good. Don’t argue with me about it. Stop trying to resist?— ”

His arms are around me and I give in. I sink into his embrace and once more, we kiss. I savor it like I would a good meal after a long day, the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold, connection after being alone for so long.

And whatever I’ve given him, I want to double it, give him more, so I do, deepening the kiss.

But we can’t very well do this all morning with the charity work waiting, so after bundling up as best I can, given my city girl clothes, I reconsider my winter wear choices. Also my life choices, but I don’t want to think about those right now.

Utah winters require insulated boots, a heavy jacket, practical gloves, a scarf, and a hat instead of the stylish accessories I brought, thinking I was dressing to impress. Turns out Alex likes leggings.

Letting out a breath, while I wait for him to warm up the Jeep, the night before funnels back to me. I told Alex about my parents and...nothing happened.

He was right. I do have a story, but I’ve also told myself one. That if anyone knew about my cluttered thoughts, worries, and imposter feelings, they’d laugh me out of the room.

Once on the road, Alex first stops to get gas. He chats with a guy one pump over while the tank fills. If he walked down the street in New York, people would clear a path for him. He’s big, intimidating, and rugged.

And that’s what I like about him...and that with me, I get a different side. A thoughtful guy who treats me to peppermint mochas, reads to me, and kisses me like he knows I won’t break but also like I’m the most precious thing in the world.

He gives so much. Has been through so much. What can I do for him?

A chilly gust of air fills the Jeep when Alex gets back in. He brushes his hands together, warming them up. “That was one of Jesse’s buddies. I guess he recognized me from an event we held in town about seasonal preparations. A lot of people don’t know about the simple things they can do at home to make sure they’re ready for bad weather like the kind we just had.”

“Even people around here?”

Alex tugs on my silk scarf. “Even people around here.”

I highly doubt that I fit in. I never have, anywhere, but just like I adapted to life in the city, I suppose I could look the part and fake it ‘til I make it here in the mountains.

As we cruise along the plowed roads, Christmas carols play through the stereo. This time, I don’t turn them off.

We pass a sign, festooned with garlands, bows, and giant candy canes.

Alex reads it, “Welcome to Holidayle. A small town with a big seasonal spirit.”

“Holidayle?”

“Like holiday and dale—the valley. Run the words holiday and dale and you get Holidayle.”

“But the word holiday is in there.”

“And no place does the holidays better. Christmas, Saint Valentine’s Day, Easter. You name it. Plus, National Doughnut Day, Playdough Day, all the dough days.”

“My brother Ryan would get a kick out of that.” I tell him how he fake proposed to his former frenemy who is now his wife.

Alex chuckles. “I bet they’d like it here. Holidayle is festive, especially this time of year.”

“And you allow this?” My routine rejection of Christmas now feels like reciting by rote. My resistance to the glow is waning.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re a big, tough veteran who likes dirt under his nails and lead in the air.”

“And who enjoys coming together as a community and celebrating what’s important.”

But before I get a dose of holiday anything, Alex pulls into a parking lot beside a single-story stucco building with a craftsman-style entryway with broad timbers and a wide front door. It reminds me of his house if it were an office space. Then I see the sign, covered in snow, Wild Warriors .

Alex kills the engine and says, “What started in my basement grew into this. Wild Warriors Headquarters. The goal is to create a community meeting place with a coffee shop, books, and gear. For now, it’s a place to gather and teach classes about spending time in nature safely. We do a lot of outreach and in-house programs. Plus, I have a few other ideas percolating.”

Peppermint mocha ideas? Whoa. I am getting ahead of my skis. “That’s so cool. Speaking of percolating. I could go for a peppermint mocha.”

“Shaylin, my assistant, should have one waiting for you.”

I lower my chin. “Seriously?”

“Come on.”

I follow Alex into the building. It’s modern with exposed ductwork painted matte black on the ceiling and rustic at the same time with an exposed brick wall. The rest are various shades of gray with umber accents. The meeting room has a massive live-edge table and books fill a wooden shelf in the classroom space. Lastly, there’s a kitchen and an unfinished area I imagine could be the café part. We return to a welcoming greeting area along with a desk and a Christmas tree.

A woman with chin-length red hair and bright eyes says, “You must be Your Majesty, Princess, Royal Lady of the Circle of Mad Mojo, Order of the First Degree, Queen of Eaglewood Acres.”

I’m not sure whether to laugh or find Paxton and do a leg sweep followed by an arm bar. “Let me guess, Pax told you to call me that.”

Alex introduces us. “This is Emmie. Meet Shaylin. She keeps this place humming.”

Seeing Alex lead the group for the workshop and seeing his commanding, yet friendly presence here, makes something hum...the bah humbugs.

“If you hadn’t told Paxton that name, he would’ve come up with one for you. He calls me Shy lin.” Her cheeks flush.

I’m all too familiar with that particular shade. She has a crush on the troublemaker.

“And what do you call him?” I ask.

Her eyes widen like she never thought to give him a nickname.

Leaning close, I whisper, “Try Pax Charming, like Prince Charming. Or call him Kiddo or Buddy. He’d hate those.”

Just then, Paxton enters with a hoot and a whistle. “My two favorite women in one place. To what do I owe the honor?”

Alex’s lips ripple with a smile then he slings his arm across my shoulder. For a second, I thought he was going to take a swing at one of his best friends.

“Oh, I see how it is.” In three long strides, Pax crosses the room and sweeps Shaylin into his arms. Dipping her dramatically, he plants a kiss on her lips.

She returns the kiss for about two seconds before realizing what’s happening and wriggles away. Her cheeks blaze and her eyes shine, but her glower could torch the building.

“Would you two please just admit that you don’t hate each other,” Alex says.

“That would be a start,” Pax murmurs.

Turning to me, Shaylin says, “You’ve been warned. Paxton Pearce flirts with anything that lives and breathes.”

“Just women,” he adds.

She shakes her head like he’s hopeless, but the pink in her cheeks doesn’t fade and she did kiss him back for a moment. My guess is this has happened before, maybe in the store room. Perhaps initiated by Shaylin. Whatever it is, there’s a story here.

Alex points toward the ceiling. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do under the mistletoe?”

We all look up.

“There’s no mistletoe.”

Pax laughs and winks at Shaylin, and then says, “That means we’ll have to visit the Merry Kiss-mas display in town later. ”

Alex shakes his head slightly. “These two have a history,” he murmurs to me.

Paxton juts out his thumb. “Like a cat, I’m working on my ninth chance with this woman.”

Alex claps his hands together. “Attention, team. Is everything ready for delivery?”

Pax salutes his boss. “Sir, yes, sir, Sargeant Claus. We have everything ready for delivery. Jesse’s 4Runner is loaded. Shy and I will ride together in my rig, and that leaves the two of you to drop the remaining twenty-five deliveries.”

Alex goes still as if he’s listening for a moment. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did sir and I’d do it again.” Paxton uses a mock-official-sounding military tone.

I look at the three of them, wondering what I’m missing.

“You know I hate flying,” Alex says.

“Yes, sir, but if you bail on me, I’ll make you drop and give me a hundred pushups.”

“But you’re my subordinate.”

“That is factually correct, but this is Christmas and concessions must be made.”

Shaylin is all but in hysterics.

“What’s going on?”

Alex lets out a resigned sigh. “Remember I mentioned that I know a few guys with planes? I neglected to add helicopters.”

Pax lifts an invisible walkie-talkie. “Mr. and Mrs. Claus are preparing for takeoff. Over.”

“I’m going to get you back for this.” Alex’s mouth is tight, but the crinkle around his eyes tells a different story.

“No, you’re going to thank me. This was part of the grand plan. Plus, just think, you’re going to make a lot of people happy, especially Mr. Marlin.”

“It was your cockamamie plan, but fine. It’s on you if the wreaths come apart midair.”

“I packed them securely, Sir Santa, um, Claus,” Shaylin says .

From outside, a rumble cuts through the air. “Is that another avalanche?”

Alex smiles like he can’t suppress it. “We have some special families around here. A few Gold Stars, some vets who’ve gone above and beyond. Twenty-five of them are going to get an extra special delivery.”

I tilt my head and watch a red helicopter land in the parking lot.

“Presenting, Sargeant Santa’s sleigh,” Pax says.

“Tell me how do you feel about heights again?” Alex asks.

“Not a fan.” I eye the helicopter warily.

“Would you go up for a good cause?”

What-ifs tumble through my busy brain.

Alex’s expression softens as if he senses my trepidation. “You could think of it like riding the luggage cart. We didn’t slip or slide. Nor did you get tossed off. But if you don’t want to go, you’re welcome to ride with those two love birds.”

“Are there seat buckles in that thing?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

The problem is, I may already have.

Thirty minutes later, we’re dropping packages containing special sensors directing where they land and topped with miniature parachutes. It’s a sight to behold as people rush out of their houses to watch.

I also get an amazing view of the valley and surrounding area with its foothills and mountains, valleys and streams. The quaking aspens, evergreens, and a blanket of sparkling snow stretch as far as the eye can see.

With Alex—and the reinforcing straps that are even stronger than a regular seat belt, because let’s be real, this is scary—I feel safe.

“Okay, delivery number twenty-five. The last one. This is extra special,” Alex says, his voice somehow more alluring than ever through the headsets we wear to communicate. He tells me about Tom Marlin, a World War Two vet, who’s widowed, and started the Christmas delivery tradition years ago with his wife. “For one reason or another, he stopped. I decided to bring it back. Well, this wasn’t part of the tradition.”

“You mean delivering the gifts by helicopter?”

“Correction: Sargeant Santa’s sleigh.”

My smile grows and my heart thaws, even at this altitude.

“Now, for the best part. You can come with me or Judd will bring you back to HQ. Pax and Shaylin should be there by now and the three of you can pick me up.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex points to a harness he’s putting on. “I’m jumping to make the delivery—Tom Marlin was a paratrooper—101 st Airborne Division that dropped into Normandy. This is something he’ll never forget.”

My jaw lowers. Alex is going to parachute onto Mr. Marlin’s property. “This gives new meaning to the term drop ship .”

“Want to go tandem?” Alex asks, his eyes sparkling.

“Do you have a license for this thing?” I point to the complicated combination of straps and buckles.

“I sure do and an extra for you.”

“Seriously?”

“As serious as Santa is about his cookies. But joking aside, I am a professional. We’ll be safe.” Alex eyes the clear sky with a vista of mountains and valleys in the distance.

So far, my time with Alex has been an adventure. He’s protected me. We’ve had fun. Am I about to jump out of a helicopter with him?