All He Wants For Christmas Read online

The need to run overwhelmed her. Turning away from him, she rounded the shelving unit, then made a beeline for the stairs. “I have work to do.”

  “Ella, hold on. I was hoping maybe we could have dinner. Catch up a little before I have to leave.”

  Catch up? Catch up? He wanted to catch up and hear about the total disaster that was her life since they’d parted ways?

  No way.

  Ella gripped the banister and moved quickly up the steps, desperate to retreat to the safety of her apartment, where she didn’t have to think about the past, the mistakes she’d made, and everything she’d lost along the way. “Sorry. Too busy. Have a nice drive down to Miami, Tate.”

  * * *

  She’d run like a cornered animal.

  Tate watched Ella disappear up the stairs and frowned. That hadn’t gone at all as he’d hoped. He should have stuck with his plan to keep things casual. Never should have followed her down into the cellar. But the moment he’d seen her, he’d been so excited, he hadn’t thought. He’d just wanted to talk to her.

  Which was all he’d done. Be it ever so briefly. Skipping back over their conversation, he tried to figure out just what he’d said to spook her. He’d been careful not to mention the accident. Knew from her mother that she didn’t like to talk about it. Purposely hadn’t brought up the dead husband, even though inside he was itching to know what the guy had been like. Knew that wouldn’t have gone over we—

  Shit.

  Tate clenched his jaw and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. Her mom. Ella had bolted after he’d mentioned he’d spoken with her mother.

  “Way to go, Kendrick,” he muttered. “Now she thinks you’re stalking her.”

  Which he was…but he didn’t want her to know that. At least not yet.

  A memory rushed through his mind. One of him and Ella on that Virginia beach at sunset, the waves lapping the shore behind her as she straddled his hips in the sand and braced her hands against his bare shoulders.

  “When you go on tour, I’ll go with you and be your biggest fan.” She brushed her chestnut hair over her shoulder, then leaned down with a sexy, you’re-all-mine smile.

  His gaze slid over her barely there bikini, the sight of her plump breasts and bare thighs distracting him from everything but grabbing her and repeating what they’d done only an hour ago in the motel room he’d rented. “Uh-huh.”

  She laughed, the sound like little silver bells, and grasped his jaw, forcing him to look up at her gorgeous brown eyes rimmed in gold. “Focus, sexy. You’re gonna be a star. And I’m going to be there to cheer you on. I plan on seeing the world with you, Tate. You and that golden voice of yours.”

  He frowned, even though all he really wanted to do was kiss her again. “I’m a ballplayer, Ella, not a singer.”

  She grinned like he was a sweet, stupid, lovable idiot. “You’re a singer, babe. Trust me. An incredible one. You just haven’t figured that out yet.” She leaned in and brushed her lips over his in a seductive, teasing move that brought every inch of his body to life. “But you will. I have no doubt.”

  The way she’d kissed him then floated through his mind now—long and deep and all-consuming—warming his blood as he stood in the cold cellar, staring up at the open door. At the time, he’d thought she was higher than a kite. He’d been between his junior and senior years, playing summer ball in Virginia, hoping to be drafted into the minor leagues, not sing. And even though he’d enjoyed messing around with his guitar during his downtime, that was all it had been—messing around. A hobby. But she’d seen something in him no one else had—even him. She’d known he wasn’t going to make it past single-A ball even if he did get drafted. She’d known his true calling was music.

  Man, he missed that girl. Missed the way she made him feel alive, missed the light she’d brought to his life, missed just being near her infectious energy. He would have gone to the ends of the earth for her. Wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. But then his summer season had ended, and instead of running off to the West Coast with him like he’d planned so he could finish school, she’d listened to her mother, who’d never much liked Tate to begin with.

  His heart pinched, just enough to tell him the bitter bite of rejection was still there. He could remember every part of their conversation that last day, and her arguments. The fact her first semester at art school was already paid for. The fact his future was in California, not on the East Coast. The fact long-distance relationships never worked.

  Looking back at the way his career had wound up, maybe her reasoning made sense. But to him, at the time, and after everything they’d shared that summer, it had sounded like an excuse. Like a reason to run. She’d left for college in Rhode Island before he’d been able to talk her out of it. And then, instead of going after her like he should have done, he’d tucked his heartbroken tail and gone home. Expected her to come to her senses and come after him. Only she hadn’t. She’d gone to art school. Moved to Holly, North Carolina. Gotten married. And forgotten all about him.

  He scratched the back of his head and sighed. A smart man would grab his guitar, get back in his car, and leave before he made things worse for himself. He had a gig in Miami on Christmas Day. If he hit the road tonight, he could be there with time to party beforehand. Meet a few girls. Forget about this stupid plan.

  But even as the thought hit, he remembered the look on Ella’s flawless face when she’d gazed up at him on the stairs. Soft brown eyes as fathomless as they’d been the last night he’d held her on that beach, when they’d danced in the moonlight to the music wafting from the boardwalk. Only this time they were shrouded in secrets and heartbreak and pain.

  He moved back up the cellar steps, debating what to do, and stepped into the kitchen. The kid working the grill looked to be barely twenty-one, with gauges in both ears and dreadlocks twisted up under a hairnet. A snowboarder, Tate decide. Holly Mountain was one of the best ski areas around.

  He waved at the kid, then headed into the bar and scanned the room. Ella was nowhere to be seen, which really shouldn’t surprise him, not after the way she’d bolted from the cellar. His gaze skipped over the patrons, and part of him still couldn’t believe she ran a bar. He knew from his conversation with Ella’s mother that the pub had been the dead husband’s business, but running a bar in a Christmas-themed village hidden in the mountains was as far from Ella’s dream of having her paintings displayed at the Museum of Modern Art as a person could get.

  Did she paint anymore? He looked to the walls, searching for something with her signature brushstrokes, but the decorations were all Christmas-themed prints and old-time outdoor sporting equipment like toboggans and skis. Nothing personal from her. He couldn’t see a single thing in the space that screamed Ella.

  “Didn’t go over so well, huh, handsome?”

  Tate looked to his left, where the bartender scooped ice into a cup and grinned up at him. Figuring he needed a drink to chill himself out more than anything else, he slid onto a stool and leaned both forearms on the dark mahogany surface. “What do you have on tap?”

  The bartender brushed her blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced at the taps as she added soda water to the drinks she was making. “Tonight we’ve got Lazy Boy Mistletoe Bliss, Deschutes Jubelale, Alaskan Winter, and Sam Adams Holiday Porter.”

  Tate shook his head. Man, this town went all-out in the Christmas department. He and Ella had only spent a summer together. He had no idea if she even liked Christmas but figured she must if she was surrounded by it twenty-four seven. “Give me a pint of Sam Adams.”

  “You got it.” The bartender garnished her drinks with cherries, then set them on the end of the bar for the server. After swiping her hands on her apron, she reached for a mug from the freezer behind her, lined up the tap and glass, and pulled. “Your fans are all waiting for an encore.”

  Tate glanced over his shoulder toward the group who’d recognized him in the corner of the bar and begged him to play something. Normally, he wou
ldn’t have indulged their request, but they’d been so eager, and honestly, part of him had hoped to impress Ella. He’d envisioned her walking in, hearing his voice, smiling, and—

  A frown turned his lips down. Yeah, she’d been real impressed. Impressed enough to pretty much tell him to get out of her bar and never come back.

  The bartender set his mug in front of him, and, not feeling up to singing again, Tate shrugged and nodded toward his beer. The group answered with overly enthusiastic waves, then went back to their conversations.

  Which was great, except as Tate swiveled toward his glass, the taste he suddenly had wasn’t for beer. It was for a cute brunette who obviously didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

  “So, you know Ella, huh?” The bartender wiped out a glass and set it on the shelf behind her.

  Tate licked the foam from his lips and lowered his mug. “Yeah. We go back a few years.”

  “Interesting. She’s never mentioned you.”

  Tate huffed. That wasn’t a surprise either.

  He glanced toward the door on the far side of the bar, the one he’d noticed earlier led to stairs that went up to the second floor and what he assumed was Ella’s office. Then to the old double doors that opened to the street. Wide windowpanes in each door were painted with the words Yuletide Spirits. Beyond, white flakes floated in the air, growing in thickness, catching in the trees and already covering the cars and sidewalks in a layer of white.

  Yeah, bolting now before the snow got any worse was probably the best idea. Every man had regrets, right? That didn’t mean there was anything he could do about them. Some things were probably safer left in the past. If he’d really seen a spark in Ella’s eyes like he thought, the universe would have given him a sign he was supposed to stay. Such as that group hounding him to play again until he said yes, or Ella coming back into the bar while he sat here, or—

  The bells above the double doors jingled, and a man dressed in a khaki sheriff’s uniform, a wide-brimmed hat, and dark jacket, stepped into the bar and shook snow from his shoulders. “Quick announcement, folks. The highway’s closed until further notice. Landslide took out both lanes. Make yourselves comfortable.”

  —or a landslide blocking his only route out of town.

  Wide-eyed, Tate turned back to his beer. The bartender winked as she wiped out another glass. “Hope you don’t have anywhere to be just yet.”

  Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Tate shook his head, more stunned by the timing than he wanted to admit. “Not just yet. No.”

  “Good.” She set the clean glass on another shelf at her back. “Got a place to stay?”

  Tate hadn’t even thought about a place to stay. He’d only rolled into town an hour ago. But right now getting a room wasn’t a bad idea. It’d give him time to decide how to approach Ella next. “There’s gotta be a motel in town, right?”

  “There is. A couple, actually.”

  Tate reached for his wallet to pay for his beer.

  “But they’re all full this time of year.”

  His fingers stilled against the leather. Shit. Of course they were full. It was Christmas week in America’s cutest holiday town.

  “Good thing I know of a room you can rent,” the bartender said. “And it’s cheap.”

  Tate’s eyes narrowed. “How cheap?”

  “Free.”

  Crap. The girl was pretty, midtwenties, attractive in a girl-next-door kind of way. But in his line of work, he had plenty of attractive girls offering him free rooms with benefits. And she wasn’t the girl he was interested in. No, the girl he’d come for was upstairs somewhere, hiding from him. “Thanks, but—”

  “Don’t thank me, handsome. Not yet, at least. Wait’ll you see the room.” She winked once more, put the glass away behind her, then moved down the bar toward a couple who’d just come in. Before she reached them, though, she turned his way and added, “She plays your music, you know. I hear it late at night when I’m locking up. Your pipes aren’t half-bad, Kendrick. You should try singing for her sometime without the groupies.”

  She turned away from him, smiled at the couple in front of her, and took their orders. And as Tate watched, he knew he’d just been given a second sign.

  Ella listened to his music.

  He didn’t care where he stayed or with whom. He wasn’t ready to leave Holly, North Carolina. Not until he saw for himself that the girl he’d fallen crazy in love with one summer long ago was truly gone.

  Chapter 2

  Ella tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and bit her lip as she studied the proposal—again—that Rob Henry had put together to buy Yuletide Spirits. Her gaze shifted back to the laptop on her desk, and she hit a button, flipping screens to check her calculations.

  As much as she wanted to sell now, there was just no way she could afford it. Kyle had left her with too much debt when he’d had the kitchen remodeled. She wasn’t going to be able to recoup that cost if she sold now, which meant she needed at least three more months—probably six—before she could seriously consider the offer.

  Sighing, she tossed the proposal on her desk, then tugged off her reading glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. It was well past three a.m. She needed to get some rest before the bar opened for the lunch crowd at eleven, but she was still too keyed up to sleep, and she wasn’t sure why.

  That’s a big fat lie.

  Dropping her hands into her lap, she frowned at the cool blue light radiating from her laptop screen. She knew exactly why she couldn’t sleep. Because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Tate Kendrick standing in her bar, and she heard his sexy voice telling her he’d gone to see her mother.

  She slammed her laptop closed and stared across the room at the television she’d turned on so she didn’t feel so alone, then muted. Why the heck was he here? Nine years had gone by. He hadn’t come looking for her once in all that time, but he’d stopped by now?

  It was probably a good thing he’d taken her hint and left. If she was lucky, he was already past Charlotte. Where had he said he was heading? Miami? As far from her as possible was a good start. Not that she cared. She hadn’t thought about him at all in nine years.

  Liar…

  Ella threw up her hands and pushed out of her seat. This was ridiculous. She needed to stop thinking about Tate and get some sleep. Grabbing the remote from the edge of her desk, she held it up and was just about to hit the Power button when the TV and lights abruptly went off, shrouding her in nothing but darkness.

  Her heart rate shot up, but common sense rushed in on its heels. Power outage. It had snowed earlier. Not heavily, but it didn’t take much to cause trouble up here in the mountains.

  She moved toward the window and pulled back the curtain, but instead of the sea of darkness she expected to find, streetlamps glowed orange in the lightly falling snow. Shop windows on Main were still illuminated by white twinkle lights. Even the traffic light was working, flashing green, then yellow, then red in the middle of the winter wonderland.

  The hair on Ella’s nape stood straight as she let go of the curtain and turned back to face her dark room. But before panic could push in, she realized the old building must have blown a fuse. It happened now and then—not often, but the temperature had been colder the last few weeks, and the heaters were undoubtedly working overtime. She hoped it was just a tripped fuse.

  Grumbling under her breath at how much of a money suck the place was, she fumbled through the entry closet in her apartment and found a flashlight on the shelf. A beam of light illuminated the hallway as she flipped it on. Since she was the only person who lived in the old building, she didn’t bother getting dressed. Just grabbed the fleece shawl she wore when she was working late and pulled the door closed behind her.

  The second-floor corridor above the bar was silent but for the creak of boards beneath her slippers as she headed for the stairway. Sometimes she missed the space she’d had in the three-bedroom house she and Kyle had lived in after they got married, b
ut most days she was glad she’d given it up. She hadn’t wanted to waste money on the rent after he died, not when her goal was to sell the bar and get out of Holly for good. And she definitely hadn’t wanted to live with the memories. But there were times, like now, when she missed modern conveniences like electricity that worked, and—she shivered beneath the shawl as she headed down the stairs—heat that wasn’t connected to that electricity.

  The pub was silent as she made her way around tables topped with upside-down chairs. Her flashlight beam bounced over barstools and reflected off bottles along the shelf behind the bar. Ella moved behind the bar and through the adjoining kitchen. Still no lights. No sound. Nothing but her and the darkness. When she reached the cellar door, she told herself it was no different than it had been earlier in the evening.

  She pulled the door open and shone her light down the cement stairs. She really didn’t like the cellar. It was cold and dark and creepy on a good day, and when the power was out, it was even creepier. Shining her light around, she scanned the back hallway for something to keep the door propped open. It locked automatically when it closed, a feature Kyle had installed to prevent theft. But for Ella, it was nothing but a headache. Her worst nightmare would be to get locked down there alone.

  A crate in the corner of the hall caught her eye, so she pulled it over and propped it in front of the door. Shuffling down the steps, she shivered in the cooler temperature, wishing she’d thought to grab her coat. As she turned to her right, she shone the light past the shelves, searching for the breaker box. Took a step—

  The door slammed shut at the top of the stairs.

  Ella’s heart rate spiked, and she jerked around, but the flashlight slipped from her fingers before she could shine it over the stairs. It landed against the cement floor with a clank.

  The light went out. Muttering a curse, Ella knelt to grab it, but footsteps on the stairs above her brought everything to a shuddering halt.

  Footsteps that shouldn’t be in her pub at this hour.