Page 9 of Christmas in His Arms

My stomach knotted as she said that. I had no desire to go to the town square and watch them put up Santa's workshop. I'd been the butt of everyone's jokes for years. The last thing I wanted to do was rub elbows with old biddies who ruined my life here and my dad's reputation.

"I don't know. Ryan will be working and I'll just be in the way. Besides, Dad just got home and I want to be here." I folded my arms over my stomach nervously and took a step backward. Mom was going to do her best to force me to interact with people in this town in hopes I'd see it wasn’t so bad and move home. They would never let it rest.

"I just have to stand there and watch them." Ryan chuckled. "I'll be bored. You'd be able to keep me company, and we couldlaugh at the ridiculously ugly Christmas sweaters everyone is wearing."

Somehow, when he said it, it didn’t sound so bad. But I still didn’t like the sound of it. I knew damn well that people would be talking. I'd already overheard a few harsh whispers behind my back when I was at the grocery store getting some snacks one afternoon. It was bad enough that I had to carry the guilt over what happened years ago. They would never let me forget it.

"I don't know. It's cold, and I prefer to?—"

"You're going," Mom said, interrupting me. "You have to get out of this house. Get some fresh air."

I scowled at her in protest, but spending the afternoon with Ryan didn't sound awful.

Thirty minutes later, I was wearing my red puffer coat, a black sock hat, and my black leather gloves, standing near the northwest corner of the town square next to Ryan. He insisted that we grab cocoa at the volunteer booth, so we each had a steaming paper cup in our hands.

"Wow, there are a lot of people here…" I recognized most of the volunteers from years past and growing up. With my dad being heavily involved in politics, my parents always hosted meals and fundraisers. I knew most of the town by name, though I wouldn't say I was on a first-name basis with them.

"Yeah, folks really come together for the holidays. It's the one time of year I feel like I don't have to avoid the gossip mill." Ryan sighed and looked across the square, watching a few men with flannel shirts erect the small cabin where Santa would take visits with children. He had a bit of a pained expression, and I didn’teven have to ask why. I knew how horrible the people of this town were.

"You've been at the receiving end of their gossip, I take it?" I sipped my cocoa, and he turned to me with a thoughtful expression.

"More than once." He sighed, and I felt connected to him through our shared experience. But I wasn't one to linger on the negatives. I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

"So, do you enjoy serving on the town council?" The breeze kicked up and sent a chill through me, and Ryan shivered a little. Outdoors in Minnesota in November was a bad idea. I wished I lived in Florida with palm trees decorated for Christmas.

"I do. I get to see firsthand how people's lives are improved with good policy… But I really enjoy my work at the dealership even more. It has its perks."

"Like driving whatever fancy car you want?" I chuckled, and he winked at me.

"You'd do it too," he said casually as he took a long swig of his cocoa. "What do you do for fun in the Windy City?"

I thought of my life in Chicago and the evenings I went for drinks with Ethan. I had no life outside of work without him, but I didn't want Ryan to think I was really just a hermit. Mom already planted the seed in his head that I was a homebody, and while I had already decided there wasn't a chance we'd hook up, I was very conscious of the fact that he was forming an opinion of me. The same way the rest of this town had, based on rumors. Why did I care what people thought of me so damn much?

"Oh, I like to read, and while I don't have a car to drive around, I still enjoy a road trip now and then." Mostly then—but I couldn't tell him that. My stupid ego wouldn’t let me be transparent. He had to believe I was doing well on my own or it would just end up getting back to Mom and Dad and I'd never hear the end of it.

"Really? I'm an avid reader. I have a stack of books on my 'to be read' pile. I just never have enough time. I get a few pages in before I nod off at night."

"No way… Which ones? I’m itching to read a few of the classics again.Crime and Punishmentwas so powerful." When I said that, his face lit up.

"I just finished it! Raskolnikov was such a strong depiction of the descent into insanity. Dostoyevsky was brilliant."

I couldn’t believe my luck. Ryan was just as interested in Russian literature as I was. I found myself being so drawn to him. We spoke of other Dostoyevsky books, then the story of how he was exiled and inspired to write the books he'd published. I was so fascinated with it that I hardly noticed the cold or how long we stood there talking. Even Ethan couldn't converse with me on this level. I thought I was a nerd, but meeting someone who loved classic literature as much as I did made my heart feel so full.

"Wow, it's so amazing that we're so alike. I can't believe you actually enjoy reading as much as me." My cocoa was long gone and my hands were so cold I could barely feel my fingers, but I could stand here talking to him for hours longer.

"I really enjoyed talking with you about all that…" Ryan looked thoughtful, then said, "You know, I have to do this same boring job again tomorrow setting up for the toy drive at the church. Idon't have much responsibility, and I'll be mostly bored. Would you like to come? We can talk about Dumas tomorrow. I hear French literature is just as entertaining."

He seemed so happy, I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him. Besides, it was just the church's toy drive for Christmas. The event was something underprivileged kids benefitted from, and giving back to this town might make them finally change their minds about me.

"Sure, I'd be happy to." I glanced around, looking for a trashcan, and noticed a few women staring at me and Ryan, talking quietly. They looked away when they saw me looking at them, but I knew they were talking about me.

"Great. I have to be there early, but you can come by anytime. The drive starts at noon." Ryan fell into step beside me on our walk to the trashcan, and I felt my stomach churning.

"You know, I'm pretty cold. I think I'd like to go home now. Can you drop me back at my parents' place?" The real reason I wanted out of here was the hushed whispers that were springing up around me. Ryan had probably already heard them talking about what happened when I was just a kid, but I didn’t really want him to hear them and try defending me. They'd just turn their gossip toward him and humiliate him too.

"Sure, I'd be happy to." He tossed his cup in the trash and nodded at his car. "Let's get out of here," he said, and as I tossed my cup and started walking with him, I felt his hand in the small of my back again.

It wasn't an unpleasant or unwelcome feeling, but it did make my nausea even worse. He shouldn't be doing that. People would just talk about him. And if they started talking about him and mein the same sentences, it would only make his reputation suffer—even if nothing ever happened between us. I was a pariah he would be better off staying away from.

---