That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(46)

“Of course,” she said brightly, though her smile was as phony as that too-chipper tone.

“Tell me,” he persisted.

She sighed. “I was just thinking about all the Christmases I missed with Aunt Mae, years when I could have had this, instead of…well, instead of what we had.”

“You can’t go back and change things,” Trace reminded her. “You can only learn from your mistakes and look ahead.”

She regarded him intently. “Are there things about your life that you’d change, mistakes you regret?”

He hesitated over the answer. “I wish things had been easier for my mother,” he said slowly. “But I was a boy. I had no control over that. She made her own choice to stay married to a dreamer who was very good at criticizing everything she did, but did nothing himself.”

A half smile touched Savannah’s lips. “You say that, but you sound as if you still believe that you should have fixed it somehow.”

“I suppose I do believe that,” he admitted. “But by the time I had the money to make a difference in her life, it was too late. She’d already died of pneumonia. She’d let a flu go untreated too long because my father thought she was making too much out of a little cold. Once she got to the hospital, there was nothing they could do. That was the beginning of the end for my dad. He was devastated. I finally saw that in his own way, he had felt my mother was everything to him. He died less than six months later.”

“Oh, Trace, I’m so sorry,” Savannah said.

He forced aside the guilt that the memory always brought. “Time to take my own advice. I can’t change the past. I have to let it go. We all do.” He managed a smile. “I think I hear a band warming up. It must be about time for the caroling to begin.”

As if on cue, Hannah, who’d been hurrying ahead of them, bolted back. “Hurry up, you guys. The carols are starting. And I see Jolie. Can I go say hi to her?”

“Of course,” Savannah said. “But then you come back to join us. Got it?”

“Got it,” Hannah said, racing away from them.

Left alone with Savannah, Trace reached for her hand and tucked it through his arm. “This is nice,” he said, looking into her shining eyes. “The stars are out. The air is crisp. I can smell the bonfire up ahead. It definitely feels as if Christmas is in the air. And there’s a beautiful woman on my arm.”

In the glow of the gas lamps on the street, Trace could see Savannah blush. If a simple compliment rattled her so, it must have been years since she’d heard any. Which made her ex-husband even more of a fool than Trace had imagined.

“You know, as much as I loved growing up in Florida,” Savannah said, “this is the only place it’s ever really felt like Christmas to me. Just look around. All the stores are decorated along Main Street. There’s a tree in the center of the green that’s all lit up, and snow underfoot. It’s like a Currier and Ives Christmas card. What could be more perfect?”

She looked up into Trace’s eyes, and he felt his heart slam to a stop.

“You,” he said softly.

“What?”

“You’re the only thing I can think of that’s more perfect than all of this.”

For the second time that evening, she was blinking back tears.

“Hey,” he protested. “I didn’t mean to make you cry again.”

She gave him a watery smile. “It’s just that no one’s ever said anything so sweet to me before.”

“Then you’ve been spending time with the wrong people,” he said emphatically.

Suddenly she stood on tiptoe, and before he realized what she intended, she was pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. I’m really glad you’re spending Christmas with us.”

Trace could have let it go at that. It was a tender gesture, not an invitation, but the night was cold and that kiss promised heat. He captured her chin and gazed into her eyes, then slowly lowered his head until his mouth covered hers.

She tasted of mint and felt like satin. Then the anticipated heat began to work its way through his system, hinting of a simmering passion just waiting to be unleashed. He unzipped her jacket and slid his arms inside, pulling her close until their body heat mingled. She melted against him. They were a perfect fit, her curves soft and yielding, his body hard and demanding.

Trace could have been content to stay right here, doing nothing more than learning the shape and texture and taste of Savannah’s mouth for hours on end, but sanity finally prevailed. This was a small town. Savannah was a newcomer. The last thing she needed was him stirring up gossip. Whatever happened between them—and there was little doubt that something would—he didn’t want there to be regrets. Not of any kind.

With a sigh, he slowly released her. His gaze clung to hers as he slid the zipper of her jacket up, then tucked her scarf more securely around her neck.

“Trace, what…?” She swallowed hard. “What was that about?”

“New beginnings,” he suggested. He drew in a deep breath of the cold air, then added, “And speaking of that, I had an idea I thought I’d run by you.”

“If it’s anything like that last one, the answer’s yes,” she replied, amusement threading through her voice.

“Don’t agree until you’ve heard it,” he said. “What about holding an open house at the inn tomorrow before midnight church services? The downstairs rooms can be ready by then, and it would get people talking about the place.”