That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(34)

Oblivious to her mother’s reaction, Hannah spotted Trace. Emboldened by her success with her mother, she raced in his direction. Trace braced for the hit. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, scooping her up when she would have tried to knock him on his backside. He held out a hand and helped Savannah up, even as Hannah tried to squirm free of his grip.

He looked into Savannah’s dancing eyes. “What do you think? Should I drop her in that snowdrift over there?”

“No!” Hannah squealed. “Put me down. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Trace kept his gaze on Savannah’s. “Your call.”

“Hannah does keep her promises,” she began thoughtfully. “Then again, that snow was really, really cold. She needs to know that.”

“I know it. I know it,” Hannah said. “Really, Mom. I swear.”

Before he realized what she intended, Savannah scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed her daughter’s face with it, dribbling a fair amount inside the collar of his coat while she was at it. Accident? he wondered. Probably not.

“Mom!” Hannah squealed, laughing.

Savannah clapped her gloved hands together to get rid of the excess snow and regarded Trace with a pleased expression. “I think it’s okay to put her down now.”

He lowered Hannah to her feet and caught her grin. “I hope you learned a lesson,” he said, fighting to keep his own expression somber.

“Oh, yes,” she retorted just as seriously. “I learned that my mom is very, very sneaky.”

Trace nodded, shivering as the snow melted against his suddenly overheated skin. “I caught that, too. What do you think we should do about it?”

“Hey,” Savannah protested, backing up a step. “Don’t you two even think about ganging up on me.”

“Never dream of it,” Trace said, winking at Hannah.

She winked back, then giggled. “Never,” she agreed.

Savannah looked from one to the other. “I’m going to regret this eventually, aren’t I?”

“Could be,” Trace said. He took a step closer, reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair back behind her ear. “But you’ll never see it coming.”

Her gaze locked with his, and suddenly the tables were turned. The desire to kiss her, to taste her, slammed through him with enough force to rock him on his heels. He hadn’t seen that coming, either.

“We are never in a million years going to get this tree into the house,” Trace said, eyeing the giant-size pine that Hannah had picked out. “What about that one over there?” He pointed to a nice, round, five-foot-tall tree. It was cute. It was manageable. Hannah was already shaking her head.

“No,” daughter and mother replied in an emphatic chorus.

“I suppose it’s also a tradition that the tree has to be too big to fit inside,” he grumbled as he began to saw through the trunk. He’d worked for a lawn service one summer and had some skill at sawing down trees and branches, but nothing this size. He should have brought along a chainsaw.

“Exactly,” Savannah said, grinning and apparently thoroughly enjoying his struggle with the tree.

“I think my mother had the right idea after all,” he said. “A ceramic tree that lit up when she plugged it in.”

“Oh, yuck,” Hannah said. “That’s so sad.”

As he breathed in the scent of pine and fresh, crisp air, Trace was forced to agree with her. Despite his grumbling about the endless search for the perfect tree and his protests over the size of their choice, he hadn’t felt this alive in years. Something that might have been the faint stirrings of holiday spirit spread through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this.

“Stand back, you two. When this thing falls, you don’t want to be in the way,” he warned as he heard the crack of the wood and felt the tree begin to wobble. One hard shove and it would hit the ground. Before he could touch it, the tree began to topple…straight at him. It knocked him on his back in the deep snow. He found himself staring straight toward the sky through a tangle of fragrant branches.

“Uh-oh,” he heard Hannah whisper.

Her mother choked back a giggle and peered through the branches. “Are you okay?”

“What the devil happened?” he asked, frowning up at her.

“I gave the tree a teeny little push to help it along. I guess I pushed the wrong way. You aren’t hurt, are you?” The twinkle in her eyes suggested she wasn’t all that worried.

Trace bit back his own laughter and scrambled out from beneath the tree. “You are in such trouble,” he warned even as she began backing away, her nervous scramble hampered by the deep snow.

“You wouldn’t,” she said, regarding him warily.

“Oh, but I would,” he responded quietly. “Nobody pulls off a sneak attack on me twice in one afternoon and gets away with it.”

She tried to escape, but she was no match for his long legs. He caught up with her in a few steps, scooped her up and dropped her into the cushion of snow.

Hannah’s laughter mingled with theirs. He whirled on her. “Okay, young lady, you’re next. Don’t you know better than to injure a man’s pride?”

Hannah was quicker to scamper away, but Trace still caught up with her, grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed her face with it. Just then he felt himself being pelted with snowballs from behind. In seconds all three of them were engaged in a full-fledged snowball fight.