Last Chance Christmas (Last Chance #5)(31)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“That’s just you being horny.”

He blushed. It was adorable. She had to be careful with him. He could start feeling things. She needed to bypass the emotions and keep it casual.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“No?”

“Okay, so it’s only one of many reasons I’m here.”

She giggled. Since she almost never giggled, her laughter had to be a sign that the beer was getting to her. “Tell me the other reasons.”

He stared at her with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. It occurred to Lark that talking frankly about this kind of stuff was not easy for him.

He finally cleared his throat. “The thing is, you make me feel needed,” he murmured in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear him above the twangy country music that was playing on the jukebox.

What an odd thing for him to say.

He looked wildly around the room for a moment before he forced himself to look back into her eyes. And then it was like neither of them could look away.

“I do need you,” she whispered. “You make me feel safe.”

He swallowed. “I know. And that makes me feel good in some way I can’t really explain. I never—” He bit off the words. Maybe his mouth was running away with his heart, too.

Old man Nelson had outdone himself this year. He’d probably used more than a million LED lights out in his cornfield, not to mention various glow-from-the-inside plastic ornaments. His display was legendary and tacky and lit up the sky.

Stone parked his pickup on the side of the road behind a long line of other cars and trucks. He took Lark by the hand and pulled her along the road toward the lights.

He remembered coming out here with Sharon, the year after Tyler died. She’d said something about offering up their losses to God, almost as if it were a gift. He didn’t understand a word of it. But she’d been so determined to be happy that Christmas.

And now, years later, it almost made sense. He wanted this time with Lark to be good just for its own sake. Maybe he could forget about the past and the future and just live in the moment, for once.

So he focused on the way Lark’s hand felt in his—strange and new and different. Sexy.

“Oh, my God, is that a glow-in-the-dark Homer Simpson?” Lark asked as they reached the entrance to the light show.

“It is.”

“Wow. Nothing puts me in a holiday mood faster than Homer in a Santa suit. How about you?”

Before he could comment, a teenager wearing a pink hat with long, braided earflaps waved at him from the cider stand. “Hey, Chief Rhodes,” she said. It was Cassie Nelson.

Damn. He should have known Henry Nelson’s grandkids would be helping with the cider and the Christmas tree sales. There was nowhere in this county where he could really be alone with Lark, was there?

Cassie grinned as her gaze flicked from Stone, to Lark, to their joined hands and back again. “Hi, Miss Chaikin,” Cassie called.

Lark stiffened, and Stone decided he didn’t want to get into a conversation with Lizzy’s best friend. He nodded and said, “Howdy, Cassie,” then quickly pulled Lark past the smiling girl and down a beaten path lined with glowing candy canes.

“Do I know that girl?” Lark asked.

“Probably not. That’s Cassie Nelson. The granddaughter of the farmer who puts up these lights. She’s Lizzy’s best friend.”

“She called me by name.”

“That’s hardly surprising.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because we’re in Last Chance, and everyone in town knows I’ve taken off my wedding band. They also know that you were watching me from the apartment above the Cut ’n Curl. And by now, they all know we had dinner at the Pig Place.”

“Man, that’s a little terrifying.” She looked up at him, a thousand Christmas lights dancing in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. If you want to—”

“If you’re about to ask me if I want to say good night and go back to the Cut ’n Curl, you’re crazy. I’m having fun. It’s just that I’m not used to being the center of attention. I’m one of those lurkers on the sidelines who snap photos when people aren’t looking.”

“I’m sorry. You kind of get used to the lack of privacy in this town. But for the record, I’m having a good time, too.”

She took him by the crook of the arm. “I’m glad to hear that.” She pulled him down the path between the glittering candy canes. The first lighted scene featured a choir of plastic carolers joyously singing “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Grandma, complete with hoof marks on her forehead, was lying in some fluffy stuff that was supposed to be snow. A herd of glow-from-the-inside reindeer somberly looked on.

“Kind of warms your heart doesn’t it?” Lark said as she studied the trampled body of Grandma while simultaneously tapping her toe to the sprightly music.

“It’s a public service announcement about the perils of imbibing too much eggnog on Christmas Eve,” he said, deadpan.

She laughed at his joke, the sound as bright and merry as Christmas bells. She took his hand and pulled him down the path. “What’s next?”

“Uh, well, that’s going to be hard to explain to a Yankee.”

They stopped in front of a thirty-foot Christmas tree awash in hundreds of small garnet-colored lights. A giant banner above the tree proclaimed “Go Cocks” in huge, twinkling letters.

Lark stared at the display and cleared her throat. “What do cocks have to do with Christmas?”

Stone felt his face flame. “Not one thing. But Henry Nelson’s entire family graduated from Carolina. They are a Gamecock family, you see. And the school colors are garnet and black, which explains the color of the lights.”

“Uh-huh. This has something to do with football, doesn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. Football is bigger than Jesus around these parts.”

“Which I guess explains the combination of the Christmas tree and the—”

“Exactly.”

She turned and studied him in the garnet light. “So, are you one of those guys who worship at that altar?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a devoted Gamecock fan.”

She smiled. “I think I like that about you.” She turned and headed down the path. He followed, wondering if she was just being kind. Admitting that he was the kind of guy who liked to pop a beer and watch the game on Saturday was probably not the best way to impress her.

They walked on, past a group of Christmas trees patriotically decorated in red, white, and blue; a giant collection of blowup Peanuts characters; a snow globe featuring Tigger and Pooh; a veritable army of glow-in-the-dark toy soldiers all in regimented rows; and finally a lighting display of elves hard at work.

“Is that a real moonshine still those elves are working on?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am, it most certainly is. I think Henry inherited that still from his hillbilly daddy. He keeps the copper nice and polished, don’t you think?”

“And you’re not troubled by this?”

“Well, I reckon if I found something like that out in the woods, I might have to call the authorities. But you can clearly see the elves are using that still to make hot chocolate, not white lightning.”

He pointed to the hand-lettered sign on the still that made this perfectly clear.

“I didn’t know chocolate came out of a still like that. And do elves get drunk on chocolate? Because a couple of those elves look a little tipsy to me.”

“Well, you see, necessity is the mother of invention. And the truth is, the church ladies made Henry put up that chocolate sign. The first time he set up his elves, they were definitely making something a little stronger than chocolate. The ladies disapproved. I’m pretty sure Nelson got back by adding the trampled granny to his light show the next year.”

Lark rolled her eyes up at him. She was close enough that he could smell her shampoo. His body felt as tight as a piano wire.

She whispered, “I definitely noticed a resemblance between that trampled granny and Lillian Bray.”

“Shhhhhh. Don’t say that aloud.” He pressed his finger across her lips, and his heart took off on a wild flight. He wanted to take her someplace way more private. The time had come to make a move. The thought excited and frightened him at the same time.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Her skin was cool against his lips. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”

He snagged her hand and pulled her off the lighted path and into the darkness between the lighting displays.

“Oh, man,” she said as he guided her across the semidarkness toward the big live oak that stood in the middle of Henry’s field. “You’re sneaky, aren’t you? You ply me with beer, soften me up with country music and romantic lights, and then you guide me out here into a dark cornfield.”

Her tone gave him a moment of doubt, but he decided to bull his way through. If Lark was the kind of woman who wanted a fancy dinner, soft music, and romance, then he was the last guy on earth she was looking for. Given what she’d said last night, he was pretty sure she didn’t really want those things, though.

“There’s nothing sneaky at all about bringing you out here,” he said in his best take-charge voice.

They reached the tree. It was deserted. But off in the distance, he could see a group of teens who had spread blankets on the ground. They appeared to have a cooler and some thermoses with them. They were being unusually quiet for teens.

He pulled his attention away from the kids and the trouble they were probably getting into. He leaned into the trunk, caging Lark between his arms.

The flicker of distant Christmas lights illuminated her face and sparked in her eyes like starlight. She was smiling. Thank God.

He touched her hair. It was soft and short and ran through his fingers like silk. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That feels nice.”

She was waiting for him. She was willing. He wasn’t going to have to seduce her. He wasn’t going to have to work very hard at all.

He gave himself up to it. He dipped his head and met her lips, not even surprised to find her mouth open for him. Their tongues met and tangled. He pressed himself against her, her soft br**sts tight against the planes of his chest. This was much better than last night. He didn’t have that stupid vest in the way.

He reached for her breast. It was soft in his hands, the nipple hard against his palm.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Blood roared through his head, pounded in his ears. He made an inarticulate sound, deep in his throat, and she laughed.

“Are you laughing at me?” His voice came out husky.

She caught his question with her lips, and he breathed her in. Okay, good. She wasn’t laughing at him. Maybe she was enjoying herself.

She confirmed this when she threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his hips. Wait a second, he hadn’t exactly expected her to do that. She was moving so fast.