His Jingle Bell Princess Page 5

  “I’d love to see it on you,” Jasmine told her.

  While the girls scrambled into the dresses, Jasmine noticed a small, pink makeup table with a mirror, hair accessories, and a few cosmetics.

  “I could style your hair.” She offered to Sophie, who was first into her dress.

  Sophie scampered over and turned her back to Jasmine. “Zip me up.”

  Jasmine pulled up the zipper of the dress, straightening the sleeves and smoothing out the skirt.

  “You look very pretty,” she told Sophie.

  “Can you do me a braid?” asked Sophie, her excitement obviously mounting.

  “Yes, I can.”

  Jasmine sat down on a little stood and beckoned Sophie closer while she located a hairbrush.

  “Will you put it on top of my head?” asked Sophie, lifting a big handful of her blond hair. “I like it on top of my head.”

  “Let’s see what we can do.” Jasmine took stock of the supplies and made a plan for a simple hairstyle.

  “I want my braid to dangle down my back,” Amelia said.

  She also presented her back to Jasmine and Jasmine zipped up her dress.

  It took most of an hour, but Jasmine got each of the girls dressed up. She even added a little lipstick to their mouths and some blue shadow to their eyes. They jockeyed for position in front of the mirror, chirping with delight at what they saw.

  “Now you,” Sophie said.

  Jasmine laughed. “I don’t need to dress up.”

  “You should be get pretty, too.” Amelia considered the rack and then chose a deep purple gown. “This one. Mommy used to wear it when she played with us.”

  In an instant, Jasmine realized what she’d done. The girls had probably played dress-up here for years. They must have played it with their mother while she was alive. Jasmine could have easily upset them with painful memories. She could still upset them.

  She pasted a bright smile on her face. “I thought we were going to build a snowman?” She quickly located the checkerboard pants and pulled off the suede slippers Belle had lent her. She stepped into the pants and drew them up beneath her skirt.

  “They fit,” she told the girls, hoping to distract them. She unzipped her skirt and pulling it down to get out of it.

  “Snowman time.” Amelia sang out.

  Sophie looked decidedly disappointed. “I want to make tea.”

  “It’s going to get dark soon,” Amelia said.

  “We could make tea after we build the snowman.” Jasmine offered.

  Trying to keep the momentum going, she pulled on the sweatshirt. It was worn, supple, and it smelled earthy and pleasant.

  She did a pirouette. “How do I look?”

  “Cute,” Sophie said.

  “Funky,” Amelia added.

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever looked funky before.”

  Jasmine rather liked the description.

  “Let’s go.” Amelia reached for her zipper to get out of the dress.

  Without giving them a chance to hesitate, Jasmine quickly unzipped both girls. “Let’s build a giant snowman before it gets dark.”

  “We’ll surprise Daddy,” Amelia said.

  Sophie sighed in what looked like resignation, while Jasmine felt like she’d dodged a bullet. She was going to have to be careful around these two. The last thing she wanted was to inadvertently bring back memories that could hurt them.

  *

  It was dark when Sam arrived home, but the front of the house was lit up, and through the haze of falling snow he could make out three figures dashing across the front yard. The girls were playing and the sight made him smile. It was reassuringly ordinary at the end of a difficult day.

  In the glow of the bay window, he could see the outline of a big snowman. They’d obviously been busy for a while now.

  He parked his truck and came around the side of the house to join them.

  He caught only the briefest glimpse of Amelia before he was hit full in the face by a snowball. Both of his daughters shrieked with laughter.

  Before his vision cleared, he was reaching down to make his own snowball and join in the fight. As he stood, he caught a glimpse of ugly checkerboard pants on a pair of legs between the two girls. They were Kara’s pants and his heart tripped in his chest.

  “Run, Jasmine, run!” Sophie shouted.

  “He’ll get you,” Amelia called.

  Jasmine was laughing. But then his expression must have registered, and she sobered. She could obviously tell something was wrong.

  He’d thought she was Kara. For a split second, he’d actually thought Kara had somehow come back to him. He realized that was crazy. He also knew it wasn’t healthy.

  “Sam?” Jasmine’s question was tentative as she took a small step toward him.

  In a blinding flash, he acknowledged that Brock had been right.

  Brock was his best friend and his hard message to Sam today was completely on target. It was time for Sam to climb out of his grief. Some way, somehow, he had to accept Kara’s death and start to rebuild his life.

  He was going to do it. And it was going to start right now.

  “You better run.” He warned Jasmine in a dire tone, lobbing a soft one her way.

  She easily dodged it and tossed her own snowball back at him.

  It hit him dead in the chest, splattering apart on contact. The woman had a decent arm.

  He scooped up another and threw it more firmly, catching her in the stomach.

  Then his daughters came at him from both sides, throwing snowballs at his head. Amelia’s hit the mark, while Sophie’s missed. He scooped them both around the waist and lifted them into the air.

  “Who wants a face-wash?”

  “Not me, not me,” they both cried out, wiggling to get away.

  He held them fast. “Then you shouldn’t have started this fight.”

  “Did you see our snowman?” Sophie asked.

  “Come and look at him,” Amelia said.

  “You’re trying to distract me.” He accused them.

  “Jasmine helped us,” Sophie said.

  Sam found his gaze moving to Jasmine.

  Close up, in the soft light bouncing off the snow, she was an arrestingly beautiful woman. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips dark red, and her eyes glowed a crystalline shade of green. Her blond hair was covered in a red knit hat, but wisps had escaped and swirled around her face.

  Her gaze was slightly wary as it met his, and he had the unsettling feeling that she could see through his act.

  Whether she could or not was irrelevant, he assured himself. She wasn’t likely to call him on it, and neither would anyone else. He was moving forward. He was faking an emotional recovery until it became true. Using whatever emotional strength he could muster, he was working towards accepting the reality of his world and becoming the father his girls deserved.

  “Show me the snowman.” He set both of his daughters down on the ground, using the excuse to break his gaze from Jasmine.

  The girls trotted awkwardly across the yard in their snow boots and nylon pants.

  “Belle says the airport’s still closed,” Jasmine told him, an apology in her tone.

  “I heard that, too.”

  “And the telephones are still out. If I could have, I would have contacted my family to send me some money—”

  “You don’t need any money.” He regretted his churlish behavior last night.

  Belle had been right to call him on it. Jasmine was stranded in Tucker through no fault of her own. It didn’t matter that it was inconvenient for him. Common decency demanded he offer her shelter.

  “It would be better if I went to a hotel,” Jasmine said.

  “Can you see Belle agreeing to that?” he asked.

  The question earned him a small smile. Jasmine had an extraordinarily pretty smile.

  “It’s taller than me,” Amelia called out, holding her mitten-covered hand to her head and demonstrating the difference between her
and the snowman.

  “I think it’s taller than me,” Sam said.

  “Stand beside him, Daddy,” Sophie said.

  Sam moved up next to the snowman.

  Amelia sized them up. “I can’t tell.”

  Jasmine pulled the red hat from her head and plunked it onto the snowman. “There. Now he’s definitely taller than your dad.”

  Both girls grinned at her.

  Something warmed deep inside Sam. It felt good. And then he felt guilty. Here they were, laughing and joking and having fun, all without Kara. It shouldn’t come so easily to him.

  He could feel Jasmine’s scrutiny.

  “You girls must be hungry,” she said, turning her attention to the girls. “I know I’m famished.”

  “I’m famished, too,” Amelia said, obviously trying out the new word.

  “Famished,” Sophie agreed.

  “Is Belle home?” Sam asked Jasmine.

  Jasmine gave him an odd look. “Would she normally leave the girls here alone?”

  “You were here.” As he said the words, he realized it would be a huge imposition to expect Jasmine to babysit.

  She paused before answering. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. But Belle’s only just met me. I can’t see her putting that kind of trust in a stranger.”

  Sam knew Jasmine was right. He also knew he wanted to trust her. He wasn’t sure why, and it didn’t make logical sense, but his instincts told him she would take good care of his daughters.

  The girls trotted toward the side door into the house.

  “You’re right,” Sam said. “Belle is very careful with the girls. And we wouldn’t want to impose.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “It’s no imposition at all. Your daughters are delightful. And, in any event, I’m the one imposing on you.”

  He knew he owed her an apology, and he wouldn’t let himself walk away from that. “I was a boor last night. And I’m sorry. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

  “I understand this isn’t the best time for you.” She seemed to hesitate over her next words. “Belle told me about your wife.”

  He swallowed. “Yes. Well, it’s been two years now.”

  Her tone was gentle. “Two years isn’t such a long time.”

  He wasn’t going to let himself dive into her sympathy. Two years was enough.

  “You want your privacy,” she said. “I’ll try to respect that. If we’re lucky, I’ll be gone sometime tomorrow.”

  “Is that the forecast?” He was surprised. He hadn’t heard an update since midday, but the snowfall didn’t show any signs of letting up.

  “That’s my wishful thinking.”

  “Does the national weather service agree with you?”

  “Not so far. But how long can something like this possibly last?”

  Sam took in the steady fall of snowflakes, twinkling and magnified by the streetlights. “It’s bound to end soon.”

  “And then my plane will come directly back to pick me up,” she stated with determination.

  “Is there a chance they won’t?” he asked.

  She looked startled. “No. Why would you ask that?”

  “You sounded like you were giving yourself a pep talk.”

  “They’ll come straight back,” she stated with conviction. “They will absolutely come straight back.”

  Sam couldn’t help but think Jasmine had to be treasured by her family and her friends. “Is there anyone—” He stopped himself before he could finish the question.

  “Anyone what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Go ahead and ask.”

  He was just making polite conversation. Not asking now would be stranger than asking. “I was just wondering, besides your family, is there anyone waiting for you?”

  The question seemed to put her on her guard. And she didn’t answer.

  “A boyfriend?” He clarified.

  There was relief in her eyes. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

  “What did you think I meant?”

  “I was confused. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  He tried to imagine a universe in which men wouldn’t be lining up to date her. “Are they intimidated by your father?”

  A tiny smile twitched her lips. “You could say that.”

  “Well that’s no fun. For you, I mean.”

  Her laugh was musical. He liked it.

  “I’m used to it,” she said.

  “It’s always been that way?”

  “Let’s say my social life has been somewhat limited by my circumstances.”

  “Locked up in an ivory tower?” he guessed.

  “More than you can imagine.”

  Sam found his steps halting. He gazed up at Belle’s big house, rising against the dark sky. It wasn’t a tower and he wasn’t trapped there. But Brock’s lecture today had him thinking about how long he had imposed on Belle.

  “Do you ever have the urge to escape?” he asked.

  It took Jasmine a minute to speak. When she did, there was a touch of wonder to her tone. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

  “Because your life seems so fantastic?”

  “A lot of people imagine they want to be me. They don’t understand, of course. It’s far more complicated than it looks.”

  “Who doesn’t want to be rich?”

  Her tone turned wistful. “Me sometimes.” Then she seemed to catch herself. “I mean, there are days when I’m not sure I’m up to the task.”

  “I wouldn’t want a lot of money.” He admitted. “I want some. It’s a necessity. I need to be able to provide for the girls, give them a few advantages, dance lessons, a good education, things like that.”

  “Being a good parent is probably the best thing you can give them.”

  Sam knew she wasn’t being critical. She didn’t know him anywhere near well enough to judge him. But he felt the sting anyway. He wasn’t a good parent right now. He was a mediocre parent.

  “Amelia and Sophie adore you,” Jasmine said.

  He scoffed out a laugh. “Only because they don’t have anything to compare me to.”

  She tilted her head sideways. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “If you do, you shouldn’t.”

  Her hair was growing damp from the melting snowflakes. She had to be getting cold. He knew he should take her inside. He didn’t know why he kept talking instead.

  “They deserve more than me. They deserve…”

  She reached out to touch his arm. Even though she wore a mitten and he wore a jacket, he felt the warmth of her touch permeate his skin. It was soothing.

  “They’ve got you, Sam. Is life fair? Absolutely not. Do your girls deserve a mother? I would say yes. But that doesn’t change reality.”

  “Reality sucks.”

  “It can.”

  Their gazes met and held, a connection gently pulsing between them. He wanted to step into it. With a start, he realized he wanted to draw her close, take her in his arms, kiss her deep, red lips.

  He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t think that. He couldn’t want that.

  He withdrew from her touch, his tone gruffer than he’d intended. “We need to get inside.”

  Her gaze clouded. But she didn’t say a word. Instead, she gracefully turned, walking away over the trampled snow.

  He reached deep inside for a core of emotional strength, steadying himself before he followed.

  *

  Jasmine stared at the ceiling of guest room, its pale yellow panels accented by a narrow white crown molding. It was nearly two a.m., but she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t forget the poignant expression on Sam’s face outside in the yard, the pain in the depths of his brown eyes.

  She was embarrassed by her own selfish feelings, the desire to sway toward him, a longing to lean in, be wrapped in his embrace. She was being greedy and unrealistic, but her arms felt empty. Her lips tingled with an unrequited kiss.

  Sh
e turned sharply in the bed, adjusting the quilt around her shoulders for the hundredth time, determinedly closing her eyes and telling herself to go to sleep already.

  Sam was an attractive man, sure. And there was nothing wrong with her experiencing romantic impulse. It was bound to happen eventually. Why not with a tall, handsome stranger? Sam didn’t pussyfoot around. He said things to her that no man had ever dared. She felt edgy and excited in responding to him. His attitude made him seem strong and confident.

  Was it any wonder she found the combination attractive? What she’d said to him was true. As heir to the throne, she couldn’t date. Her formal dances with dignitaries in her own age group—few and far between—were the closest she’d ever come to a romantic encounter.

  For a wild moment, she thought about taking this chance and kissing Sam.

  She wondered how he’d react. But she knew how he’d react.

  He wasn’t interested in kissing Jasmine or anyone else. He was grieving for Kara.

  Jasmine’s next thought was that she needed to get home without delay. The longer she stayed in Tucker, the more complicated her life became. Even now, it was morning in Vollan, and her presence would be missed. The household would be up, breakfast over, the daily schedule posted in her office.

  There would be a series of Christmas events planned for today, and she was letting people down by missing them. She knew they had prepared for months, and a royal guest brought attention to the concerts, parties, and fund-raisers.

  Belle’s guest room didn’t have a phone, but she knew there was one in the kitchen. She’d tried several times during the day to call home, but the lines remained stubbornly dead. It had been embarrassing to realize, even if the lines had reconnected, she didn’t know the palace phone number. She’d never had a need to memorize it. Her life was so strictly planned, no one had considered the possibility of her being stranded alone.

  She hoped an operator could help her place the call.

  She pulled back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. The nightgown Belle had lent her was a simple, cream-colored satin. She slipped into the matching robe that covered her arms and draped to mid-calf. The hallway carpet was soft on her feet, and the remnants of a fire in the living room kept the air temperature comfortable. The snow continued to swirl outside the windows, and the wind sounded like it was picking up.