An Old-Fashioned Romance Page 13

  “Well,” Nick began, “ol’ Reese nearly lost his movie-star looks that day, I’ll tell you.”

  “Shut up,” Reese whined at his brother.

  But Breck was interested. “Really?” she prodded.

  “Yep,” Nick continued. “We were out in Simpson’s Woods…out east of the old house, remember, Reese?”

  Reese nodded and said, “Oh, I remember.”

  “We were riding fast…really pushing the limit on Pop’s snowmobiles,” Nick explained. “Rrrrrrr! Rrrrrrrr!” Breck smiled as the young man made snowmobile sound effects and held his hands out in front of him to simulate where his hands would’ve been on the handles of a snowmobile. “Yep! We were flyin’!”

  “We were, weren’t we?” Reese smiled at the daring memory.

  “We were flyin’ so fast and racing, of course,” Nick said.

  “Of course,” Breck said. She could just imagine it—two farm kids out on their father’s snowmobiles, mortality being something that only other people had to deal with. She remembered how her cousins out at El Costa Lotta behaved.

  “And the sun was so bright on the snow that day. Remember, Reese?” Nick asked.

  “Ohhh, yeah.” Reese did remember.

  “Anyway,” Nick continued, “we’re flyin’ along, me and Tom and Reese…and, well, you know what a maniac Reese is, right, Breck?”

  “Sure,” Breck agreed, though she hoped he’d settled down a bit since he was nineteen.

  “All of a sudden, I see Reese go flying out of the seat of his ride! It looked like he’d hit an ejection button or something! Then I saw the fence—the snowmobile got all caught up in it. Well, by the time we got over to him, it looked like he’d been starring in some sick slasher movie, you know?” Breck wrinkled her nose and shivered a bit at the thought of Reese so terribly hurt. “Fortunately for the ladies, the worst damage was across his chest…like, just below his collar bone. Have you seen the scars?” Nick asked.

  “No,” Breck answered, trying hard to remember if she’d noticed any scars on Reese when he’d been prancing around shirtless the morning and night before.

  “That’s right!” Nick explained. “’Cause we took him all the way to Denver! They had a good plastic surgeon come in and stitch him up. He’s still got the one scar on his forehead that’s pretty ugly though. Show her, Reese.”

  Reese didn’t pause but reached up, pulling his hair off his forehead.

  “See? Right there at his hairline,” Nick pointed out. Breck did see a scar about four inches long at the point on Reese’s head where Nick had indicated.

  “I was wearing some good goggles that day too,” Reese told her, “or else that wire would’ve clean poked my eyes out or cut right through them to my brain.”

  Breck wrinkled her nose and shivered, horrified again at the thought of Reese in such peril.

  “Three-hundred and twenty-three stitches total. Right, Reese?” Nick asked.

  “Yep,” Reese confirmed.

  “But we were flyin’ that day, weren’t we?” Nick chuckled.

  “Dang right!” Reese laughed, meeting Nick’s upheld hand with a slap from his own.

  “No barbed wire where we’re headed today, right?” Breck asked. She hadn’t enjoyed the retelling of the story as much as the men had.

  Both men laughed, and Nick put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “No. But there are a lot of good places to go for a roll in the snow…if you know what I mean.”

  Breck blushed as Reese said, “You got that right!” and handed his brother another high-five.

  “Mmm mmm,” Reese whispered, leaning over and seeming to inhale the scent of Breck’s hair. “I can’t wait to roll down a hill with you, baby!”

  “What?” Breck exclaimed, simultaneously blushing from head to toe.

  Nick and Reese both chuckled—amused at her reaction.

  “Nothing like making out in the snow,” Nick sighed.

  “What?” Breck gasped, blushing deeper.

  Reese chuckled. “Don’t worry, Breck. I’ll make sure everything else stays warm too…not just your mouth.”

  Again Nick and Reese high-fived over Breck’s head. She couldn’t believe how forward he was being. He always seemed so guarded at work. But then again, he did work with women like Jamie Reynolds.

  Breck smiled as Nick and Reese began talking about other terrifying adventures they’d had as youth. It was wonderful to hear them talking, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. But mostly she smiled at the prospect of Reese kissing her in the snow. It did sound delicious!

  ❦

  And it was! The morning of playing in the snow with Reese and his family was incredible—from watching Lizzy and Sarah squeal with delight as their Uncle Bobby sent their sled racing down a five-foot incline to hearing Ben’s and Marjie’s laughter as their inner tubes collided on Doe Ridge. But most of all, it was the moments when Reese would suddenly tackle Breck (however gently) and roll her down a snowy hill, capturing her mouth in a molten kiss drenched with playful passion, that were Breck’s favorites!

  She’d watched Reese frolicking with his family—awed at his easy manner, his careless smile and laughter. She’d return his kisses, embraces, and smiles, enraptured by his untroubled ease and confidence. And his family—they didn’t seem at all surprised by his behavior toward her! In fact, they acted as if—as if they’d expected it all along. It was wonderful! Breck felt as if she were carried away in a movie or a dream…some surreal fantasy that couldn’t possibly be actually happening. And yet—it was! And it was wonderful!

  After a quick snack and some hot hot chocolate, everyone formed two lines—one behind Marjie and one behind Katie. It seemed the matrons of the family were the leaders on the trek into the woods to find the perfect Christmas trees. It wasn’t an easy walk either. Apparently Marjie and her daughter were not women to be pampered into settling for second best when it came to Christmas trees. It took nearly two hours before trees were found that received everyone’s approval—including Marjie’s and Katie’s. It was delightful, and after Ben, Reese, Nick, Bobby, and Keith had chopped, sawed, dragged, and loaded the wonders of nature into the back of Ben’s and Keith’s pickups, everyone else hopped in the with the trees for the ride home. Everyone, that is, except Breck—she wanted to ride in the cab of Reese’s truck with him.

  With Nick in the back of Keith’s pickup with his nieces, Breck was left alone with Reese in his. Initially, she’d jumped in on the passenger’s side. But Reese had quickly taken hold of her arm, coaxing her to sit right next to him.

  “You’re a bit different out here,” Breck told him as they drove back toward the farmhouse. She laughed as she watched Lizzy and Sarah bobbing around in the back of the pickup, holding on to their beloved Christmas tree—protecting it from harm as their daddy drove it home.

  “I suspect I’m a lot more than a bit different out here, Breck,” Reese admitted. “Do you like me more…or less?” he asked.

  “The same,” Breck told him. And it was true. She loved him when they were at work or out finding his mother’s perfect Christmas tree.

  “So,” he began, the familiar grin of mischief spreading across his face, “all these months we’ve been working together…you would’ve let me kiss you all along?”

  Breck blushed and took a chance, revealing, “Yes.”

  “You mean, I’ve wasted all this time…afraid you’d think I was a…a…”

  “Philanderer?” she finished for him.

  He laughed. “I can’t even say that word…but yes!”

  Breck shrugged. “You’re Reese Thatcher,” she told him, simply.

  “So?” he said. He was sweet. He truly wasn’t aware of the effect he had on women—people in general, for that matter. When she didn’t respond, he added, “And to think of all the trouble I went to tricking you into it….the Highwayman of Tanglewood. Oh, brother.”

  But Breck smiled and snuggled against him as he put his arm around her shoulders. In that moment, it
truly seemed that all her dreams were about to come true.

  ❦

  Breck leaned back against Reese’s chest. She could feel his firm muscles against her back as he wrapped his arms around her, folding them across her waist. Sighing heavily, she glanced at the fire, burning low but still burning in the fireplace. The sofa was soft, Reese was strong, and the tree…the tree was beautiful!

  It had taken the entire evening for the Thatcher family and Breck to decorate the Christmas tree. Breck smiled as she remembered the way Marjie had handed out orders to Ben as he awkwardly wrapped the lights around the noble fir.

  “Don’t tell me how to put the lights on, woman!” Ben had grumbled. “I’ve been doing it for thirty years, haven’t I?”

  Once the lights were on, Marjie opened two boxes of old, yet still shiny, glass ornament balls—red and gold. Everyone helped hang these, and Breck again smiled when she caught Marjie rearranging them all a bit.

  “My boys just don’t quite have the eye for it, you know,” she had whispered aside to Breck. “But they try.”

  After all the colored balls were perfectly arranged, it was time for the specialty ornaments. Marjie had several boxes full of them. There were little wooden soldiers made out of old-fashioned clothespins—various reindeer, snowmen, nutcrackers, and Santas—tiny wooden mice with beds or nests made from small matchboxes or walnut halves. There were nativities and stars, even real candy canes. Each ornament seemed to mean something special to one or the other of Marjie’s sons. She explained that she’d made or purchased a new ornament for each of her children every Christmas since they were born.

  “Katie took hers when she got married and hangs them on her own tree now,” she told Breck. “I wish one of my boys would get married. Then I’d have some room for some new things.” She winked at Breck, and Breck blushed—flattered but uncomfortable with Marjie’s implication.

  The final tradition before the tree would be completed with the addition of silver strands of icicles was the moment when Marjie handed each of her sons their new ornament. Breck found she was suddenly overcome by emotion as she watched this tradition unfold.

  Bobby took the small box his mother handed to him and chuckled when he withdrew a small snowman ornament. He thanked his mother, kissing her on the cheek and winking at his father, who sat in his lounge chair, obviously amused by the proceedings.

  Nick’s box contained a small reindeer made out of clothespins, and he too thanked his mother before finding a place for it on the tree.

  Reese’s ornament was a nutcracker, and it was then Breck realized one theme of the tree.

  “I loved nutcrackers as a kid, so Mom always gets me a new one. Don’t you?” Reese explained, lovingly kissing his mother’s cheek, then finding a place for his newest nutcracker.

  “And this is for you, honey,” Marjie said, holding out a small box to Breck.

  Breck was stunned. Already she’d had a hard time withholding her tears—the entire evening was so wonderful—but this was too much.

  “I hope it’s all right,” Marjie said as Breck took the box in her trembling hands.

  “You didn’t have to—” Breck began.

  “Oh, nonsense!” Marjie interrupted. “Now open it. See if you like it at all.”

  Reese was smiling understandingly at her, and Breck heard Ben chuckle from his seat in his lounge chair.

  Breck gasped as she pulled the fragile ornament from the box.

  “I thought of you the moment I saw it!” Marjie exclaimed.

  Breck tried to keep the tears from spilling onto her cheeks, for there in her hand was the prettiest little porcelain doll Breck had ever seen. The little doll’s head was covered in brown ringlets, a lace dress was her fashion, and in her lap she held, of all things, a tiny pumpkin!

  “It’s beautiful!” Breck whispered. “I can’t believe you’ve gone to all this trouble.”

  Marjie giggled with excitement. “It was no trouble.” Then hugging Breck, she said, “Now…find a place on the tree for your dolly.”

  “On this tree?” Breck asked. Surely Reese’s mother wasn’t inviting her to hang her ornament on Reese’s family tree!

  “Of course!” Marjie exclaimed. “After all, don’t you want to see her there when you come back for Christmas?”

  “Christmas?” Breck asked. She heard Reese chuckle.

  “You’re about as subtle as a train wreck, Mom,” he said.

  “Of course, Christmas! Reese says your family will still be away. That means you can come and spend it with us!” Marjie jingled.

  “I-I couldn’t possibly,” Breck tried to argue.

  “Nonsense,” Marjie said. “Now put your dolly on, and we’ll finish up with the icicles. Ben? Are you going to help?”

  “I suppose you’ll skin me if I don’t,” Ben mumbled, groaning as he exited his lounge chair.

  There was nothing she could do. Carefully, Breck hung the beautiful little doll on a tender branch of the Thatcher family Christmas tree.

  “Perfect!” Marjie exclaimed. “And now you have to come for Christmas!”

  Breck looked to Reese, who winked at her and nodded. She knew she’d still have to argue the point for appearance’s sake—but could it be? Could she really be coming home with Reese again? And for Christmas?

  ❦

  “Mom helped us kids to make those the year I was twelve,” Reese was saying. Breck pulled her attention back to the moment at hand. He chuckled, “Those danged old clothespin soldiers. I remember how mad she got when Nick, Bobby, and I started dipping toothpicks in the red paint and gluing them onto the soldiers’ chests so it looked like they’d been stabbed.” He laughed again. “Katie started crying and telling Mom that we were going to ruin Christmas, so Mom made us start all over.”

  Breck looked at the little clothespin soldiers with their black pom-pom hats. She could just imagine what a mess the Thatcher boys had made of their mother’s craft project that year.

  Oh, the tree was so beautiful, twinkling in the darkness of the room. The glass ornaments and silver icicles on the tree caught all the colors of the tree lights, casting color on the walls and ceiling, making pure magic of the moment. The only other light in the room was coming from the fire in the hearth, and it sent the comforting aroma of cedar wafting through the warm air, soothing the night even more. Reese’s mother had left her Christmas music playing on the stereo, and the soft, restful sound of Nat King Cole’s honey-coated voice singing a familiar Christmas song completed the atmosphere of contentment in the room.

  “We’ll have to leave the Tuesday before Christmas to come out,” Reese said unexpectedly. “And early too, ’cause the snow is usually pretty bad out here by then. It’ll take us longer to make the drive.”

  “I cannot possibly come here for Christmas, Reese. It’s…it’s rude,” Breck told him, hoping he would argue.

  He did. “It’s not rude, and you are coming. And besides, I promised Mom,” he told her.

  “Do you want me to come home with you for Christmas?” she couldn’t help asking. Everything seemed so perfect—so perfectly dreamy—too dreamy to be real, somehow. She worried that perhaps it was only Reese’s mother who wanted her to come out to the farm for Christmas.

  Reese chuckled and took hold of Breck’s chin, turning her face toward his. “Who do you think planted the thought in her mind?”

  Breck smiled up at him. He was wonderful! Could this all really be happening to her? And what would happen when they got back to the city? To work? To the real world?

  In the next moment, Reese bent, kissing her upper lip. His kiss lingered on her lower lip and lingered there once more before he turned her in his arms and took her mouth with his own. Instantly Breck’s heart seemed to swell—her breath was labored—she couldn’t embrace him tightly enough. She let her hands caress his neck as they kissed—let her fingers run through his thick, soft hair. She wouldn’t worry about work or the city or Monday. She’d have this gorgeous, masculine, fun, powerful
man all to herself for as long as she could. She’d imagine she was worthy of him—that he found her as attractive as she found him. She’d be shoved back into reality soon enough. But for now she’d bathe in his embraces—soak in his kisses. And for now—she’d imagine that it would never end.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Chatting with Patty as she stepped off the elevator had been nice. Even fighting the post-holiday, grouchy-driver traffic hadn’t been too bad. But when Reese hadn’t shown up for work by eleven that Monday morning, Breck had begun to feel quite insecure.

  The drive back to the city from the Thatcher farm had been fine. Breck sensed Reese was having as much anxiety as she was about returning. Having to leave his mother standing on the farmhouse porch in tears hadn’t helped matters. Still, when he’d dropped her off at her apartment Sunday night, he’d kissed her good bye—a long, passionate kiss, at that—and said he’d see her in the morning. Yet, here it was eleven a.m., and he was nowhere to be found.

  In fact, it wasn’t until after lunch that she received a message from him—on her voicemail. It seemed he’d be working out of town. Something he couldn’t talk about requiring him to stay away for some time.

  “I’ll be gone until the fifteenth,” his voice told her on the recorded phone message. “But don’t worry, I’ll call you.”

  Breck shook her head in disbelief. The fifteenth! That was two weeks! Certainly he’d had cases take him away for that long before, but things were different now. Weren’t they? How would she endure? Already she’d been feeling very insecure about what had transpired between her and Reese at his parents’ home over the holiday weekend.

  Was it just a weekend fling? she wondered almost every moment throughout the day. Would he return and decide he’d made a mistake in getting involved with someone from work? She became so anxious she nearly threw up!

  Even when the girls came over that night after work—Sherryl with chocolate-dipped strawberries—Kay with a new quilt square she’d been working on—Barb with her no-nonsense commands of “Buck up! He loves you”—even Trixie and her soothing manner—even with her best friends surrounding her, Breck felt hopeless, anxious.