One More for Christmas(96)

“Perfect sense. You didn’t have a father, so you imagined one.”

“And boy did I get it wrong. Actually, maybe I don’t want to talk about it.” She sat up. “I thought I did, but I don’t. Just for tonight I’d like to forget the whole thing and pretend I’m a normal person, with a normal family.”

“That exists?”

“I want to think it does.”

“Fine.” He stretched his legs out and together they stared at the view. “Family gatherings often have an interesting dynamic. I remember the year my uncle Finlay—he wasn’t really my uncle by the way, more a friend of the family—arrived with his twenty-two-year-old girlfriend.”

“Was that a problem?”

“It was a big problem for his wife, who he’d left at home. She turned up in the afternoon and we had to smuggle the girlfriend out of the house.”

Samantha laughed. “We didn’t really do Christmas when we were kids. You probably gathered that, as you’ve already had to intervene to save Santa’s reputation. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did any of that fancy math actually make sense?”

“Not a word of it.”

She grinned, finished her wine and put the empty glass back on the table. “That’s good. Is there more?”

“More? I—yes. Yes, there’s more.” He grabbed the bottle and filled her glass again. “You’re thirsty.”

“More trying to numb myself.”

“Should I try and stop you?”

“Why would you stop me?”

“Headache. Lowering of the defenses. Potential liver damage in the long term. What? Why are you laughing?”

“I love the way you spell out the facts with no filter.”

He emptied the rest of the bottle into his own glass. “I should keep quiet?”

“No, because it turns out that the only thing that distracts me from my crazy family is you talking. The wine isn’t doing it.” She sighed. “Take my mind off it, Brodie.”

“Me?”

“Unless there’s someone else hanging around here I don’t know about?”

“Just the body buried under the cottage. Any preferences for how I—er—distract you, or am I allowed to use my initiative?”

“Whatever works for you, but it’s only fair to warn you that taking my mind off the crap in my life is going to be a challenge.”

He put his glass down.

“You don’t have to stop drinking, Brodie.”

“I might need both hands.”

Laid by the Laird.

And now she’d stopped thinking about her mother and was thinking about sex.

“Stand up.” He took her glass from her and tugged her to her feet.

“What are we—” The wine had made her head a little fuzzy and she swayed a little as he tugged her into her coat. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going on a starlight walk.”

“Why? So you don’t feel you’ve lied to your mother?”

“No. Because I think you’ll like it.”

“What I like,” she said, “is being in the warm.” With him. Chatting like this. It was effortless.

“Short walk.” He opened the cottage door, and she whimpered as the cold air slapped her in the face.

“Brodie—”

“A few steps. I want to show you something.” He pulled the door shut and took her hand. “It’ll be worth it, trust me. Close your eyes.”

“You’re kidding. It’s dark, snowy, and you want me to close my eyes. That requires a level of trust I don’t even give to people I’ve known for years.”

“That’s outer Samantha talking. Shut her up. I’ve got you.”

A warm feeling spread through her insides. If only.

Oh, what was wrong with her? This was real life, not one of her novels.

She closed her eyes, wondering why she was going along with this. “I feel compelled to point out that I won’t be able to see the stars with my eyes shut.”

“Stop talking. Listen.”

She heard the crunch of their feet breaking through the thin crust of undisturbed snow. The occasional soft thud as branches shook off their winter load and snow met more snow. She heard her own breathing, and the beat of her heart. Could he hear that? He had to be able to hear it, surely.

She walked gingerly, gripping his hand tightly, terrified of slipping. “I don’t hear a thing.”

“Precisely.” He urged her forward, and they walked for about five minutes and then he stopped.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet.”

“That is the last time I ever tell you to distract me.”

“Okay, stop here. Tilt your head back.”

“Brodie—”

“Just do it. Then open your eyes.” He steadied her, hands on her shoulders.

She opened her eyes. And saw stars. What seemed to be hundreds of tiny stars embedded in the sky above them. It was magical. So completely perfect that for a moment she almost expected to hear sleigh bells and see Santa and his reindeer speeding across the night sky.

“Wow.” She tipped her head back farther, looking at it from different angles. She could feel his hands, strong on her shoulders and was surprised by how good it felt. “Well, who knew a starlight walk could actually be a thing.”