His Jingle Bell Princess Page 13

  “Hi.” He managed.

  Jasmine smiled at him, and his heart rate spiked.

  “Coffee?” Belle asked.

  “Yes, please,” Jasmine said.

  “Sure.” Sam spoke right over her.

  Belle gave him a look of disbelief. “Well, I knew you were having coffee.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Fortunately for Sam, Storm chose that moment to whimper at the door. He distracted himself by letting the dog back inside.

  The girls rushed into the kitchen.

  “He’s still here,” Sophie cried, sliding to her knees and all but careening into Storm.

  “Be careful,” Sam warned.

  “Of course he’s still here,” Amelia stated with authority. “What are we giving him for breakfast?”

  “He ate all the burgers last night,” Belle said.

  “Bacon?” Sam suggested.

  “At five dollars a pound?” Belle was clearly not amused.

  Amelia swung open the fridge. “We have baloney.”

  “I suppose,” Belle said.

  Sam caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Jasmine’s green eyes. He paused and smiled at her. She smiled in return. It was all he could do to drag his attention away.

  Amelia opened a drawer in the refrigerator and retrieved a package of sliced baloney.

  “I’ll get the water,” Sophie offered.

  “Your father has some phone calls to make,” Belle said.

  Sam took his cup of coffee and headed for a quieter spot in the living room.

  The route took him right past Jasmine, and despite his better instincts, he paused.

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You?”

  “Very well.”

  He wanted to say more. He wanted to touch her. He was dying to pull her into his arms and hold her there for a long, long time. The strength of his longing rocked him to the core.

  “I’ll go make those calls.” He forced himself to move on.

  He heard her talking to Belle from behind him. “Can I help with the pancakes?”

  “He’s eating,” Amelia called out.

  “Good boy, Storm,” Sophie said.

  Sam loved seeing his daughters so happy.

  He settled on a sofa in front of the picture window, dialing the local radio station to see if anyone had reported a missing dog.

  There was no report there. So he tried the local paper’s office. When they had nothing, he tried the local animal shelter. But nobody had been looking for Storm.

  Sam sat back to regroup, letting the chatter from the kitchen wash over him. He supposed going house to house in the neighborhood was his next step. While he was out, he could pick up a collar and a leash. He should probably pick up some dog food as well—just a small bag to see them through.

  Amelia joined him, climbing onto the sofa beside him.

  “Is Storm leaving now?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  She smiled and relaxed, leaning against him.

  He put an arm around her. “I have to keep looking for his owners.”

  “Sophie likes him.”

  “Does she now?” Sam knew that when something was important to Amelia, she always went after it on behalf of Sophie. It was as if she wouldn’t admit to any desires of her own.

  “She always wanted a dog.”

  “And what about you?”

  Amelia shrugged. “I think Storm needs a good home.”

  “So we should keep him for his own good?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Can we keep him?”

  Sam immediately realized what he’d done. “I’m sure somebody out there is looking for him. They must miss him.”

  “He’s a very good dog.”

  “He does seem to be a very good dog.”

  Just then, Storm padded in. He plopped himself on the floor next to Sam’s feet.

  Belle appeared in the doorway. “On my white carpet? Really?”

  “He wants to be with Sam,” Jasmine said, coming into the room. “He knows the alpha of the pack when he sees him.”

  “What’s an alpha?” Amelia asked.

  “The leader,” Jasmine answered. Then she held out her hand to Amelia. “Pancakes are ready.”

  “I’m hungry.” Amelia bounced to her feet. “Are you hungry Alpha Daddy?”

  “I’m starving.” As he moved, sure enough, Storm stayed with him.

  “Alpha man,” Jasmine muttered as he passed her.

  His heart warmed at the silly nickname. Since everyone had their backs to them, he gave into impulse and touched her hand. It was a gentle stroke, just barely grasping her fingers and pulling away to the tips.

  Her face flushed and his stomach bottomed out. It took everything he had to keep walking.

  Chapter Eight

  Sam’s insubstantial touch stayed with Jasmine in the days that followed while she, Belle, Melanie, and many other Tucker citizens decorated the warehouse, prepared food, and pulled together costumes for the children. It was a challenge to keep Sam in the dark. Luckily, Brock was able to keep him busy working on his house.

  Now, she stood in the cavernous warehouse, taking in the twinkling lights, the garlands, trees, Santa’s workshop, and the artificial snow surrounding the stage. She couldn’t help but smile at using snow as a decoration inside, given all that had fallen outside. The second storm hadn’t been anywhere near as severe as the first, and things seemed to be slowly getting back to normal. It was five days until Christmas, and the news was reporting a frantic pace across five states as people rushed to get ready.

  The first of the guests, those who were helping organize the buffet, trickled in with their costumed children in tow. Belle was home, getting the girls dressed in the silver and lavender dresses they chosen for their Christmas princess outfits. They were going to look terrific.

  Jasmine knew she had to get back to the house and get dressed herself. Butterflies came up in her stomach as she thought about Sam’s reaction to the party. He’d made so much progress on other fronts. And she knew he was happy to see the girls excited about Christmas. She suspected he was still battling some guilt for moving on. But it was obvious he was ready to embrace a band new life.

  In her wilder moments of fantasy, she pretended she could be a part of that new life. But the idea was beyond foolish. If he was ready, once he was ready, he’d find a nice girl here in Maine who would be a great mother for Amelia and Sophie. She trusted him to do that. She knew how much he loved his daughters.

  She caught a glimpse of Melanie coming toward her and turned to look. Melanie’s phone was to her ear. “I’ll send Jasmine.”

  “Send me where?”

  Melanie ended the call. “Sam’s being stubborn. Brock can’t get him to leave the house. He insists he’s going to keep working until late tonight.”

  Their plan had been for Brock to take Sam out for a beer then stop at the warehouse and bring him inside.

  “He’s been working hard like that for days,” Jasmine said.

  He’d been coming home late and exhausted every night. His behavior helped keep the party a secret, but she had to admit, she missed talking with him.

  “Brock tried to tell him it’s time for a break.”

  “What are we going to do?” Jasmine asked.

  “You’ll be able to get him here.”

  “Me?” Jasmine didn’t think she was the best choice. If anything, Sam had been avoiding her the past few days. “Maybe Belle should—”

  “You’re the one who can make him listen,” Melanie said.

  “No, I can’t.”

  Melanie gave a knowing smile. “Haven’t we had this conversation before? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Brock’s seen the way he looks at you.”

  Jasmine realized there was no point in pretending it wasn’t happening. “He doesn’t like it.”

  “Of
course he doesn’t like it. His feelings for you are a threat to his grief. He’s afraid that if he gives up grieving, he’ll lose Kara’s memory.”

  “He won’t.”

  “I know that, and you know that, but Sam can’t accept it yet.”

  “There’s nothing going on between us,” Jasmine said.

  Melissa looked at her strangely. “I never thought there was.” Then she looked more closely. “Wait a minute. Did something happen?”

  Jasmine couldn’t bring herself to lie. “He kissed me. Once. That’s all.”

  “He kissed you.”

  “It just, kind of, happened.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “It was a mistake. We both regretted it.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was inevitable. And I’m glad it was you. He’s coming back to life, and you’re helping him. Now, go get him, and bring him to this party. His daughters are counting on him.”

  “What am I going to say?”

  “Get creative. Brock is going to meet you outside and take you to the house.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “I have to get dressed.” Jasmine looked down at her sweaty t-shirt and dusty jeans. She’d been planning a quick shower and doing something with her hair.

  “That’ll have to wait. Sam needs you. The girls need you.”

  Jasmine realized it was true. Amelia and Sophie were counting on their father coming to the party. They were convinced he’d like it. And they’d talked themselves into believing it would change their lives.

  Jasmine realized she believed that, too. He was so close. This might be the final push he needed to move on with his life. She realized it would be with someone else. But she couldn’t think about that right now. The girls needed her. Sam needed her. And she was going to come through for them all.

  She retrieved her jacket and made her way to the front parking lot, seeing Brock’s pickup truck pull up, its headlights bouncing off the bright snowdrifts.

  She opened the passenger door and climbed in, taking the briefest of moments to appreciate the normalcy of taking care of herself. Back home, a chauffeur, a security guard, and a doorman would all have helped her inside. And it wouldn’t have been a pickup truck. They’d have helped her into a limousine.

  “How are things looking in there?” Brock asked as they pulled away.

  “It looks fantastic. I can’t believe how fast it came together.”

  “That’s the way Tucker does things.”

  During her short time here, Jasmine had come to appreciate how the town pulled together, worked hard, and supported each other. “You live in a wonderful community.”

  “I know I do,” Brock said. “I appreciate it every day.”

  They both fell silent for the short drive.

  “Any tips?” she asked as they pulled into Sam’s driveway.

  “He likes you,” said Brock, angling his body to look her way.

  “I know,” she admitted. “I like him, too.”

  “You’re good for him.”

  “I’ll be gone soon.”

  “You can’t stay?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t stay.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “I’m positive.”

  Brock drew a sigh. “That’s too bad. For Sam, for you, for everyone.”

  The conversation made her uncomfortable. It made her foolish fantasies seem more real, and it made her want things that couldn’t be. For some reason, her throat grew raw.

  “It’s impossible,” she said in a pained voice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Jasmine reached for the door handle, feeling swamped with guilt, feeling as though she was letting Sam, Brock, and everyone else down.

  She knocked on the door then rang the bell. When Sam didn’t answer, she opened the door. She knew his power tools were loud, and he often wore hearing protection when he was working.

  She called his name. When he didn’t answer, she mounted the stairs, listening for sounds of work. The house was strangely silent.

  She finally found him in the master bedroom. It was quiet, because he wasn’t working. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall where he’d punched it through, the room completely empty around him. The furniture was gone. The pictures were gone. The curtain rods were bare, even the carpet had been pulled up.

  She stopped in the open doorway. “Sam?”

  He looked up.

  “Are you alright?” She moved slowly into the room, trying to gauge his expression.

  He didn’t look upset. He looked bemused. But he didn’t answer her.

  She slid down the wall to sit beside him, waiting, letting him take the lead in the conversation.

  “I thought I’d start fresh,” he said.

  She took around at the bare walls and the raw wood of the floor. “It looks like you’re ready to do just that.”

  “I gave most of it to goodwill.”

  “Did Brock know you were doing this?” Jasmine couldn’t decide if this was a good sign or a bad sign.

  “I never liked the carpet. The curtains were too frilly. And the bed was too small.”

  “You’re getting a new bed?”

  “I’m taking down this wall to make more room to fit it in.” He tapped behind him. “That part was Brock’s idea. I’ll put in a steam shower. I really like steam showers.”

  “You deserve a steam shower.”

  “I can get everything at wholesale. It’ll take a few weeks to do the work. But I usually have a slightly slower season after Christmas, so the timing is good.”

  “This seems like a good idea.”

  He came to his feet. “It is a good idea. I haven’t had focus for a long time. I’m getting it back, and it feels good.”

  He held out his hand to her.

  She took it, and he helped her rise.

  “I’m happy that you’re feeling better,” she said.

  She knew she should let go of his hand, but it felt so good to hold it. She was nearly overcome with a desire to lean into his arms. She wanted to kiss him all over again. She wanted to forget who she was and what her future held and pretend for a moment that she could stay here with Sam and help him redo his bedroom, restart his life.

  But she also knew fantasizing that way would only make her real future seem bleak. She had to be strong.

  “Do you think we could go somewhere?” she asked, telling herself to focus on the party.

  He looked intrigued. “Go where?”

  “Maybe a coffee shop for a little while? Most of the shops on Main Street have reopened. I’d like to see some more of Tucker.”

  “Okay.” He gave her hand a brief squeeze. “I could use a break.”

  “You’ve been working really hard.”

  “I’ve been trying to keep my priorities straight.”

  “Amelia and Sophie?” She guessed.

  “They’re number one. Well number one and number two.”

  It was good to hear him chuckle.

  “Can we go to the Lavender Cafe?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He kept hold of her hand as they walked from the room.

  Jasmine knew the route to the Lavender Cafe would take them within a block of the warehouse. It was the best she could do right now. She’d have to come up with a plan along the way to make him turn down the street and go into the parking lot.

  *

  Sam didn’t know what to make of Jasmine’s unexpected invitation. For the past few days, he’d been avoiding her, trying to be respectful of her wishes. She’d been clear she was in no position to get involved with a guy like him.

  He knew it was too soon for him. But his core instinct was to stay as close to her as possible. Ready or not, he was falling fast. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, and a reckless part of him wanted to give in and hang on for the ride.

  So, for now, if she wanted to talk, if she wanted to spend time alone with him, if she wanted what amounted
to a date, he was more than willing.

  They drove along Main, covering the blocks to the Lavender Café.

  “What’s going on down there?” she interrupted his thoughts, gesturing down Peak Street.

  He swiftly glanced over his shoulder.

  As the scene registered, he stomped on the brakes. “What on earth?”

  The parking lot of his empty warehouse was full of vehicles parked side by side. His truck slide to a stop on the snowy street, and he pushed the shifter into reverse, backing up to the corner where he could see.

  The scene looked unsettlingly familiar. It looked just like it always had for the Christmas party. Then the date hit him in a blinding flash. It was Wednesday, the Wednesday before Christmas.

  His hands clenched on the steering wheel, every fiber of his being protesting what was unfolding in front of him.

  “They didn’t.” He rasped out loud. “They wouldn’t.”

  “Sam?” There was something in the sound of Jasmine’s voice, a hesitation, a hint of guilt, a trace of worry.

  He turned to look at her. As he took in her expression, reality hit him like a lightning bolt. “You knew?”

  “Please don’t be angry.”

  “You think I’m angry?”

  He was beyond angry. He was raw with pain. He’d come so far, made so much progress. He’d let down his guard and let her in.

  “Everyone’s really excited,” she said.

  “Excited to celebrate Kara’s death?” Because that’s what it felt like to him.

  Jasmine looked horrified. “No.”

  “Is this why you came to see me tonight? Is this what you wanted? To drag me to some farce of a party?”

  She gaped at him in shocked silence. She swallowed. “I don’t think you understand.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

  He was finally getting over the raw pain of killing Kara. He was finally getting to a place where he could ignore, or at least pretend to ignore the mistake that would rightly haunt him for the rest of his life.

  “At least come in for a minute. See what they’ve done. I think you’ll appreciate—”

  “You think? You think? You don’t even know me.”

  She went silent again and the hurt in her eyes nearly crushed his soul.