Page 56 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

She shook it off. She’d had a whole day to let her emotions settle, and she knew she’d overreacted. Beau’s heart was good. If he left without saying goodbye, he had a reason. It was impossible to get in anyone’s head, but maybe, in his engineering brain, he figured since they’d never see each other again, they’d said all there was to say.

And honestly, he was right.

She arrived at the table. “Here you go.” With a smile, she set each drink down. “Enjoy.” As she turned, she scanned the other tables to see if anyone needed anything—well, okay, and to see which table Beau had taken. But she didn’t see him anywhere.

That’s weird. Where did he go?

Not that it mattered. In fact, it was best if she avoided him. Spending more time together would be dangerous. Just coming out of a painful divorce, her heart was still tender and sore. And her feelings for Beau were obviously way too big. She couldn’t handle another heartbreak.

A young woman waved her fingers to get Margot’s attention, jerking her back to the moment, and she hurried over. After a song ended, the singer handed her microphone to Felix. “Let’s give a big hand to Selena.” The audience took a break from eating and chatting to clap for the young woman. “All right. Next up, we’ve got Beau Gentry. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for our friend from Wyoming.”

Beau?

He hates singing. As he headed up to the steps, Margot searched the tables for his daughter. But that didn’t make sense. How would she have gotten here?

The whistles and applause drew her attention back to the stage. With his muscular frame and overlong dark hair, he looked formidable up there. That movie-star jaw was impressive, but it was when he broke into a shy grin, revealing twin dimples bracketing his mouth that the foot-stomping began. Beau’s chin lowered, and he waved a hand in an Oh, come on gesture. He took the microphone. “Thank you.”

She knew how much he hated performing, so she couldn’t imagine why he’d put himself through this. Not if his daughter wasn’t here.

He whispered something to Felix and then pulled out his phone. He didn’t speak to the crowd, didn’t announce his song. But as soon as the first notes started to play, it was recognizable to everyone in the room.

It was one of Lorelei Calloway’s biggest hits, a song about regret. It was lively and fierce, and it was about wishing you’d done something differently—just not knowing what.

And from the very first note, his gaze was pinned on her.

Tell me what I did

Tell me how to fix it

Swear on my life

I’d do anything to make it right

She’d ignored him the entire day. Treated him like a stranger, and he didn’t understand why.

Right then, she felt childish.

Worse, damaged.

Which meant she was clearly too messed up to carry on a mature relationship. She just wasn’t ready. She’d talk to him, apologize for being such a drama queen, but that would be it. She wasn’t going to have another night with him where she got even more attached, because then what would she do? Go back into her cave and cry her eyes out?

No, thank you.

She gave him a warm smile that let him know they were good and then turned away and went back to work.

The guests lingered, clearly not eager to spend Christmas Eve alone in their rooms. Finally, though, the restaurant had mostly emptied, allowing the servers to clean up and collect whatever cash tips were left for them.

From across the room, she could see Beau had left something on his table. She headed over to collect it for his server. Touching the chair he’d vacated ten minutes ago, regret nailed her hard in the center of her chest. She’d acted like an idiot. She wished she hadn’t been so immature.

If only her first attempt at a relationship hadn’t been with a great guy like Beau. If she was going to mess up, at least let it be with someone less amazing.

Except…she’d rather be alone than spend time with someone who wasn’t as special as him.

Connections like that don’t come around that often. They’re special.

He’s special.

Focusing on the table, she realized he hadn’t left a tip. It was just a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper.

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