Love at Christmas Inn Collection 1 Read online

  “We’re all tired. It’s more than that.” He turned into the lot, snagged a parking space.

  “Like I said before, I didn’t expect…” She shook her head.

  “You did miss me, didn’t you?”

  “Even if I did, what does it matter now?” She caught her lower lip between her teeth as her jaw trembled. “Jayson, what happened between us—”

  “What, exactly, did happen between us?” He killed the engine. “What would you call it, Emmy…the dates, the talks…the kisses? Did it mean anything to you? Because it sure meant something to me.”

  “Whatever you feel led to call it, it ended a long time ago, and it’s not bound to be resurrected. Too much time has passed, too much water has run under the bridge.” As if trying to convince herself, Emmy shook her head. “You have your life now, Jayson, and I have mine. The paths don’t meet.”

  “They’ve met here, now.” He swept one hand across the cab. “What do you make of that?”

  “Merely a temporary detour.” She ran a hand through her hair, refusing to look at him as she unlatched her seatbelt. The passenger door popped open and frosty air rushed in as she exited the car. She grabbed her purse and backpack from the seat and slung them both over one shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Emmy, if you’ll wait a minute I’ll walk you in.”

  “No worries. I can find my way into the theater.” She lifted a pair of fingers to her mouth and whistled. “Come on, Max.”

  5

  They’d been rehearsing for three full days, and Emmy’s muscles screamed in protest, but she’d finally nailed the choreography.

  “You’re looking fantastic,” Aunt Dahlia called out her approval from the second row of the theater seats. “It’s much better than I had hoped, judging from our rocky start. I’d say that’s a wrap for the day. We’re ready to go with tomorrow’s opening show.”

  Whoops of joy rang out, and Emmy crossed the stage to gather her towel and bottled water. She wiped beads of sweat from her forehead and then drew a sip from the bottle as she settled onto a wrought iron bench that served as a prop in the shows outdoor scenes. The rehearsals had been brutal, and she knew it was mainly due to her lack of concentration. Rep after rep had been taken, until finally both the songs and the steps clicked into place.

  “That was great.” Jayson seemed to have come to terms with the fact that their renewed partnership was for the Christmas show only—nothing personal. “Perfect.”

  “Thanks, but I wouldn’t go that far.” Emmy had spent days leading up to her return to Hope Creek singing along with Harvey via the preview video Aunt Dahlia had emailed to her. But despite the hours of practice and the fact that their voices matched pitch, something was missing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the element that seemed to be lacking, but when she sang with Jayson, their harmony proved truly magical. “What’s perfect is this set you’ve designed. It’s beautiful.”

  The colors proved vibrant and cheerful, and the balcony complete with a rail adorned by cheerful velvet bows stood sturdy against her weight. Emmy thought about how thoughtfully it had been constructed by Jayson to ease her fear of heights, and gratitude warmed her.

  “Manny and the crew sure came through.” Jayson slipped into the seat beside her. Wasn’t that just like him to give credit to others? She knew he’d worked tirelessly on his designs for the set, and had also pulled double duty as he burned the midnight oil over the past week leading the team to get things done. But then, he’d always been humble and giving, which was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him in the first place.

  Fallen in love…

  The thought jolted her. Where had it come from? She’d best keep her mind from wandering. Such ramblings would only serve to lead to doors better left shut tight.

  Jayson’s voice brought her back.

  “I hope this winter storm that’s bearing down doesn’t throw a wrench into the show’s opening.” He twisted the cap from his water bottle and drew a sip.

  “Me, too.” Emmy offered him a peanut butter cracker from the pack she’d opened. “It sure has been toying with us for the past day or so.”

  The clouds had gathered and thickened to an angry beast, spitting and churning. Emmy watched them at midday as she and Jayson shared take-out from the deli next door. The changing textures fascinated her.

  And now, she also found herself fascinated by Jayson. He seemed so comfortable in his own skin while she felt as if her world had been tossed into a blender with the switch set to puree. So many emotions sprang up, ones she thought had been laid to rest many seasons ago.

  Why were they all rising to the surface now…especially those she still harbored for Jayson?

  Emmy chalked it up to the holidays. Christmastime always made her feel nostalgic. But somehow this year seemed different, the nostalgia magnified.

  Jayson shifted in the seat, and the movement drew her back.

  “It would be a shame to have to refund the ticket costs.” He swiped a hand across his mouth, seemingly unaware of the storm that churned through her. Or was he aware, and simply trying to assuage her uneasiness? “So many people—so many children—are counting on us to get that new pediatric wing funded.”

  “Maybe the storm will change direction, miss us completely.” But Emmy had listened to that morning’s weather reports, and the meteorologists seemed convinced that Hope Creek sat in the direct path of the storm track. There was no avoiding it, just as there seemed to be no hope of avoiding Jayson—or the feelings that refused to work their way out of her system. “You know what a good snow can do to East Tennessee.”

  “Cripple the roads, shut down businesses…sometimes for days.” Jayson paused thoughtfully before adding, “At least we would be sequestered at the inn. There are worse places to be stuck during a storm. Generators, at least, will keep the power flowing in case of an outage. And the guests keep things interesting—never a dull moment.”

  It almost sounded like he wanted to be snowed in—with her? Suddenly a flush of heat spread through Emmy. She couldn’t take that chance. Maybe she should rent a room at the motel next door to the theater and hunker down before the storm rolled in, to put distance between them.

  Or better yet, she could just hop a plane back to California before McGhee Tyson airport started posting weather delays—or worse yet, closures—and leave this whole misadventure behind. After all, she was the one who’d been duped into performing the lead with Jayson. It wasn’t the deal she’d agreed to. So, no one would blame her for running, would they?

  “I think I’d better grab my things and get ready to head back to the inn,” Emmy stood, not quite sure what to do next. Her pulse hammered in her chest. Time was wasting. She had to take action, put a measure of distance between her and Jayson, and quick.

  “Are you OK, Emmy?” Jayson stood to face her. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. His fingers lingered at her brow. “Your face is flushed.”

  “I’m good.” She lifted a hand to one cheek and felt the heat radiate as she took a step back from him. “Just a little overheated from rehearsal.”

  “OK...if you’re sure.” Yet he seemed unconvinced as he drew his car keys from his pocket. “We can head back to the inn together. I’ll bring the SUV around front and pick you up beneath the awning so you don’t have to cross the lot through the wind.”

  “There’s no need for you to do that. I think I’ll take a cab back today.”

  “Emmy, that’s not necessary. It’s a bear outside and we’re going to the same place, for goodness sake.”

  “I know where I’m going.” Suddenly, it was important for her to go it alone, without Jayson’s help—and without his distracting presence beside her in the SUV. She needed time to think, and to sort out the feelings that churned inside, mirroring the storm that brewed along the backdrop of Smoky Mountains beyond the theater walls. “And I said I’ll take a cab home today.”

  She tossed her water bottle into
the trash and stalked off to the dressing area, her senses on overdrive. How could she be so conflicted, at once wanting to be close to Jayson while fighting the urge to run? He seemed determined to pick up where they’d left off, a course of action that could only lead to disaster. History repeats itself, right?

  Not always, a tiny voice inside her spoke. Not always, Emmy.

  She grabbed her backpack, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and without so much as pulling on her coat turned toward the rear exit that led to the parking lot. A blast of cold air slapped her face and the wind whipped, turning her damp skin to ice. She thought of retreating back into the warmth of the theater, but nixed the idea. Instead, she forged with resolve toward the parkway.

  She’d made it to the sidewalk before she realized Max was behind her, following her step for step.

  “You fool,” she muttered. “Go back inside where it’s warm. Jayson will be worried about you.”

  The dog refused, keeping pace at her side as if protecting her from rush hour traffic that darted back and forth along the winding road. How far, exactly, was the inn? Two miles? Three? Or was it farther? She hadn’t paid much attention on her drives to and from the theater with Jayson. She’d been too busy reminiscing with him, sharing conversation…enjoying time with him.

  Why, oh why do I still care? Why can’t I make these feelings stop?

  Max nipped at the air, and Emmy realized snowflakes had begun to fall. And not the little, wispy kind but big, fat plops of moisture. She wished she’d thought to snatch her coat from the hook in her dressing room. Her fingers were already numb, her teeth chattering. She hunched her back in an attempt to ward off the wind that sliced through her. She was miserable, pure and simple.

  You’re a fool, Emilee…a fool for coming back here. What were you thinking…what were you hoping for?

  A car honked and Emmy turned to see Aunt Dahlia’s limo inching up to her with Louis at the wheel. Was Aunt Dahlia perched in the backseat?

  That question was answered when the rear window lowered and a head sporting teased, blonde hair leaned out.

  “Emilee Marie, I’ve seen you do a lot of foolish things, but this has got to take the blue-ribbon award.” Leave it to Auntie not to sugarcoat. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? What on earth are you doing?”

  “Walking.” Emmy gritted her teeth.

  “I see that.” The limo continued to creep along behind her, heedless of the parade of traffic growing behind it. “I meant, what on earth are you doing?”

  What was she doing…running away like a three-year-old? Suddenly, Emmy felt like a fool, but the stubbornness she was famous for had taken hold, and she refused to relent. She crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw against chattering teeth. “Just let me go.”

  “You know better than that. You’re going to catch your death of cold, and then who will your mother blame—yours truly.” Dahlia jabbed a finger toward her chest. “Then there’ll be all sorts of explainin’ to do that I’d just rather not get into.”

  “I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.”

  “No one’s arguing that point. But right now you’re acting like an obstinate child.”

  “So?” Emotions boiled to the surface, and Emmy’s voice rose with them. “Maybe I just want this all to go away. Maybe I’m more than a little confused and just trying to sort this all out.”

  There. She’d said it. Jayson had done something to her…opened a vault that she’d sealed tight a long time ago. She thought the key had been tossed away, but here she stood, proof that the past had nine lives.

  “Yes, life has a way of knocking the wind out of us sometimes. But we have to get up, we have to keep pushing on. So get in the car, Emilee.” Aunt Dahlia’s voice was insistent…and losing patience. Cold had to be taking over the cab, chilling her to the bone. Auntie had never liked to be chilled. “At the very least, think about Max. The poor dog is freezing, and so loyal to you that he wouldn’t return to the warmth of the theater. You wouldn’t want him to catch pneumonia, would you?”

  That did it. Emmy stopped in her tracks and did an about-face. She stepped from the curb and rounded to the passenger side of the limo. She opened the rear door, quickly tossed her backpack to the floor, and then whistled and motioned for Max to get in. He launched himself into the backseat and without another moment’s hesitation, she followed. She slammed the door behind her.

  The warmth was immediate and welcomed. Holiday tunes that sang from the limo’s speakers soothed the jumble of nerves that had balled in her belly until they finally began to release. For the length of a few blocks, she sat in the plush leather seat without voicing a single syllable. And for once Aunt Dahlia refrained from her well-honed verbal sparring.

  “I’m sorry,” Emmy finally offered, clasping her hands together in her lap in an attempt to warm them. “I know I’m being unreasonable. I just can’t seem to help it. I don’t know why all this is driving me crazy. I’m off kilter, swept into a storm. Jayson…”

  “Yes, it all boils down to Jayson, doesn’t it?”

  “He gets me stirred up, riled up. I don’t know how to feel.”

  “You know, Emmy, I’m an old woman who’s traveled the globe and seen a lot of places and my share of things. I certainly don’t have all the answers. But one thing I know for sure is that fear never got me anywhere.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  But the words came too quickly. Who was she trying to fool? Even Max, who’d laid his meaty head across her lap, could see through the fib. Emmy buried her hands in his thick fur, trying to work numbness from the tips of her fingers.

  “The charity show only lasts six days, and then you can be on your way back to California…if that’s what you truly want.” Aunt Dahlia patted Emmy’s knee and studied her with a gaze that spoke volumes. “You never have to see or speak to Jayson again if you don’t want to.”

  The thought jarred Emilee. A sadness swept through her. Life without Jayson—again. Could she bear it?

  “And if I want to stay?”

  “I’m still seeking a lead for the spring show. And after that, who knows? You don’t have to decide right now. Why don’t you give thoughts about the show—and Jayson—just a little more time?”

  “I suppose I could do that.” Relief flooded her, followed by a shiver of uncertainty. After the way she’d behaved back at the theater—not to mention the past several days—would Jayson still want to give her more time? Even he must have limits.

  “Let’s head to the inn, then. I’d like to see you safely ensconced there before this storm hits. And judging from all of the signs, I’d say it’s going to be a doozy.”

  6

  Jayson parked the SUV at the top of the snow-dusted drive. The white stuff was coming down pretty hard now, covering tree branches and rooftops. The inn appeared to be sequestered inside a snow globe that had been given a hearty shake.

  He noted with dismay that Emmy’s room at the end of the inn’s second floor wing stood dark. He hoped Dahlia had found her, and would bring her home safely.

  He’d go after her, but she’d made it clear that she didn’t want him around. Still, it took every ounce of resolve not to turn the SUV around and head out again.

  No. Dahlia could handle things. If he knew anything about the big-hearted singer, he knew she was all fluff and polish on the outside but tough-as-nails on the inside.

  Besides, Emmy would have to sort out her feelings on her own. Dahlia couldn’t do that for her.

  He couldn’t either.

  Jayson leaned into the wind as he made his way to the cottage entrance. Inside, he shrugged from his jacket and tossed it over the arm of the recliner before stacking a few logs in the fireplace along with some kindling, and then laying a match to it. As the flames danced to life, he drank in the heat. His whole body felt as if dampness had taken root, and he’d lost the feeling in his fingers. The sharp chill in the air outside proved uncharacteristic for mid-December in East Tennessee—eve
n rarer for snow to fall with such gusto.

  When he’d had his fill of the warmth, he headed into the kitchen.

  A loaf of bread sat on the counter, and he knew he had cold cuts in the fridge. He thought about making a sandwich, but an appetite that had raged from the grueling day of rehearsals had fled right along with Emmy.

  Where is she? Why did she leave in such a rush? What have I done to make her want to run again?

  How can I convince her to stay?

  His thoughts seemed to echo along the walls of the small kitchen, lonely without Max curled up beneath the table, waiting for food scraps to fall. He’d watched the dog follow Emmy out the back door and across the parking lot of the theater, and he’d let him go, thankful that Emmy wasn’t alone.

  He’d let Emmy leave, as well, because there was no point in trying to hold on to something—someone—who didn’t want to be held. No good could come of it, simply a delay of the inevitable. He’d learned that the hard way—finally.

  It was over, for good. Any hopes that he’d harbored to make a second go of it with Emmy had fizzled there at the rear exit of the theater as the arctic blast of air rushed in.

  So, he’d watched her leave. Again.

  Jayson filled the kettle with water, set it to boil on the 1980-era gas stove and rooted through the cabinet for a mug. He’d spotted a box of hot chocolate in the pantry, and a steaming cup of the sweet stuff just might chase the remaining chill from his bones…and his heart.

  Again, his thoughts drifted. Was Emmy OK? Had Dahlia found her and brought her home?

  Home…

  Jayson reminded himself that Hope Creek was no longer Emmy’s home. Her home—the place she thought she belonged now—lay more than two-thousand miles away.

  He sighed as he waited for the water to boil. A knock sounded at the front door as the kettle squealed. Jayson turned off the burner, removed the pot from the heat, and crossed back toward the living room. A series of staccato, low pitched barks signaled that Max waited on the stoop. A moment later, Emmy’s face appeared in the glass.