Page 22 of Christmas at Hart's Ridge

“You’re…you’re coming with me? To Roan Mountain?”

“Don’t see how I could avoid it. We’re both here at the same time, hiking the same trail.” His lips curved. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Red.”

And then picked me up off my feet for another quick kiss.

Like that was normal behavior.

“Oh,” I breathed. Damn near swooning like Cinderella. How embarrassing. I scowled. “What is happening?” I flapped my arms, agitated. “Why do you keep kissing me?”

“Do you want me to stop?” He laughed when my scowl deepened, but I didn’t answer.

Because we both knew the truth. I never wanted him to stop.

“Kissing is what we do now, Red. Keep up.”

Chapter 8

Luke

IletBethanytakethe lead and set the pace. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, considering my legs had several inches in length on hers and I had far more experience with these trails, so she would be moving slower. I didn’t want to leave her behind.

It was also a safety precaution. I could see every step she took, and if one of those steps ended with her feet out from under her, I was right there to catch her. Plus there was the added benefit of watching her round, perky ass, cupped to perfection in her black hiking leggings.

When she settled into a steady, careful pace, I relaxed a little. Maybe she hadn’t spent every spare second in these mountains like I had, so what? Anyone could get hurt out here, even me, but she wasn’t reckless. Every step was graceful and sure, probably from years of ballet training.

“So, your mom?” I reminded her. I tended to view silence as more awkward than companionable, and anyway, I was truly curious. Why was the woman so eager to push her daughter back into the activity that got her hurt in the first place?

Bethany made a frustrated, growly sort of noise. “It’s not that she thinks ballet is safe and hiking is dangerous. She knows it’s not that simple. But if I get hurt hiking, that’s different than getting hurt from ballet. Because ballet is everything. If I get hurt, that’s the price I had to pay to live my dream. Ballet is my life. It’s my purpose. Hiking isn’t any of that. It’s just a walk up a mountain. She doesn’t want me to get hurt and ruin my career for something that isn’t worth it.”

I considered that. “Sounds like a reasonable concern.”

“I guess?”

It was the question in her voice that made me reconsider. Because Bethany was out here, hiking. Would she be doing that if she agreed with her mom? But she didn’t sound unsure, exactly. More like curious. The question wasn’t really for me. It was for herself.

Years of bartending had made me the closest thing Hart’s Ridge had to a therapist. If someone had a problem, talking it through often helped them come to their own solution, and liquor was a good lubricant for words that tended to get stuck in a person’s throat. I might not have answers, but I was a great facilitator, asking the right questions to help someone work through it on their own.

“You don’t agree?” I asked.

“I think…everything worth doing comes with risk. Even something as simple as waking up every day. That’s a risk, right? You don’t know how that day will go. You could fight with a friend or drive into a ditch—” she tossed her braid and I grinned, remembering why Ethan got her the job at my bar in the first place. “But getting through that day, no matter what happens, is always worth it. Because the alternative is death.”

“That’s…fuck, that’s grim, Red.”

“Do you think so?” She stopped walking to turn and look at me. “I think it’s…I don’t know. Cheerful. Encouraging.”

Her breath emerged as puffs of white smoke. She was a clash of bright colors. Red hair, pink cheeks and nose from cold, green knit hat. The dichotomy of sunshine and darkness in her whole damn worldview. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

It was hard to argue with her logic. Ballet was a high risk, high reward endeavor. That sort of ballsy,eh, fuck it, let’s tryattitude was probably what got her to where she was today. Injured, true, but still on top.

It also reminded me of something my mother was overly fond of saying:I would rather die on an adventure than live standing still. Probably got it from one of those fantasy novels she was always reading, back when Ethan was still an infant. It always pissed me right the hell off when Mom said it, though, which was the opposite of how I felt about Bethany.

Might have something to do with the fact that for Mom, standing still meant standing next to family.

Whatever risk Bethany was taking, she took it for herself. She wasn’t leaving behind a child to fend for himself.

“My parents would agree with you,” I said. “Especially my mom.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her eyes searched my face, her own expression openly curious. “Funny, for as much time as I spent over at your house when I was a kid, I didn’t know them very well. I don’t recall seeing your parents more than a handful of times.”

---