Page 20 of The Holiday Gift

Her lush mouth twisted into a frown. “That’s not fair to you.”

She looked at the dance floor for a moment, then back at him. “Actually, let’s go dance. I would like it very much.”

He wanted to call her out for the lie but it seemed stupid to argue. Instead, Chase scraped his chair back, then reached a hand out. She placed her slim, cool, working-rancher hand in his and he led her out to the dance floor.

Just as they reached it, the music shifted to a song he didn’t know, something slow and dreamy, jazzy and soft. He pulled her into his arms—finally!—and they began to move in time to the music.

“This is nice,” she murmured, and he took that as encouragement to pull her a little closer. She smelled delicious, that subtle scent he had picked up earlier, and he closed his eyes and tried to burn the moment into his memory.

She stumbled a little and when he glanced down, she was blushing. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this. I never learned to dance, unless you count some of the native dances we did in South America and Papua New Guinea.”

“I’d like to see some of those.”

She laughed. “I doubt I could remember a single one. Hope probably can. She was always more into them than I was. You’re a very good dancer. Why didn’t I know that?”

“I guess we haven’t had much call to dance together.”

His mother had taught him, he remembered, when he was about fourteen or fifteen, before his father’s diagnosis and his family fell apart.

His mother had told him he needed to learn so he wouldn’t be embarrassed at school dances. Turns out, he hadn’t needed the lessons. His father’s cancer and the toll the treatment had taken on him had left Chase little time for frivolous things like proms. It was all he could do to keep the ranch running while his mother ran his dad back and forth to the cancer center in Salt Lake City.

Despite the long, difficult fight, his father had lost the battle. After he died, things had been worse. His mother had completely fallen apart that first year and had slipped into a deep, soul-crushing depression that lasted for a tough four years, until she finally went to visit a sister in Seattle, fell in love with a restaurant owner she met there and moved there permanently.

Sometimes he wondered what might have happened if his father hadn’t died, if Chase hadn’t been forced to put his own plans for college on the back burner.

If he had been in a better place to pursue Faith first.

If.

It was a word he really hated.

A few more turns around the dance floor and she appeared to relax and seemed to be enjoying the music and the moment. He even made her laugh a few times. The music shifted into another slow dance and she didn’t seem in a hurry to stop dancing so he decided to just go with it.

If he had his choice, he would have frozen that moment forever in time, just savoring the scent of her hair and the way her curves brushed against him and the way she fit so perfectly in his arms.

Too quickly, the music ended and she pulled away.

“That was nice,” she said. “Thanks.”

Dancing with him had been a big step for her, he knew.

“They’re about to serve dessert,” he said on impulse. “What do you say we grab a couple slices of that apple pie in a couple of to-go boxes and take off somewhere to enjoy it where we can look at Christmas lights?”

“We don’t have to leave if you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I just want to be with you. I really don’t care where.”

He probably shouldn’t have been that blunt. She nibbled on her lip, clearly mulling her options, then smiled.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

She hated being a coward.

Her sister Hope plowed through life, exploring the world as their parents had, experiencing life and collecting friends everywhere she went. Celeste, the youngest, was shy and timid and could be socially awkward. That seemed to have changed significantly since her marriage to Flynn and since her literary career took off, requiring more public appearances and radio interviews. Celeste seemed to be far more comfortable in her own skin these days.

Now Faith was the timid one.

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