A Blazing Little Christmas(8)

Everyone agreed. After he and Jess had slipped on parkas, they all filed out of the cabin. The snow was falling in earnest and the wind had picked up considerably, jabbing icy needles of stinging cold in his face. Holding Jess’s mittened hand, they trudged back to the lodge, with Kelley leading the way, followed by Carol and Marc who had their heads together, with Carol whispering to her son. With each step Eric tried to bury his growing resentment that both their families had not only thrust them into this untenable situation, but had now intruded on their private time together. Especially since their families were exactly what they were trying to get away from. He slowed their pace until he and Jess fell behind enough to not be overheard.

“You okay?” he asked in an undertone.

A humorless sound escaped her, causing a puff of frosty air. “Not really. I’m suffering from a major case of coitus interruptus.”

He stifled a groan at how close they’d been. “I hear ya.”

“Although I suppose it could be worse. All my brothers could have come with Mom.”

Since agreeing with that statement might be tantamount to tossing gasoline on a fire, he did what generations of men with sharply honed survival instincts did—he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m not happy about this, Eric.”

“Neither am I.”

“This has disaster written all over it.” She pulled her hand from his and pressed her mittens to her forehead. “This was supposed to be our time together. We need this time.”

“I know. And we’ll have it.” He took her hand again, not liking the sensation of her pulling away from him one bit. “I could have insisted they all leave, but I figured it would save time in the long run and be easier all around to just hammer this out here and now and be done with it rather than to first spend two hours arguing about whether or not to hammer it out here and now.”

“I suppose. Especially since I don’t think insisting they leave would have worked.”

“It would have required several tons of dynamite, and I’m fresh out.”

She didn’t so much as crack a smile. “The crazy thing is that all these nitpicky little decisions just don’t matter to me, and they’re making me crazy. I don’t care if the napkins are ‘dusty rose’ or ‘desert blush.’ Maybe because I’m more tomboyish than girly-girl. Or maybe I’m just weird because my wedding dreams have never centered around a white poofy dress and a fancy party. They’ve always just revolved around the man I’d someday marry. Just me and him. A simple setting—a few flowers, lots of candles. Speaking our vows.”

That sounded…perfect. “Have you told your mom that?”

“Of course, but she doesn’t listen. This wedding she wants for me? It’s really the wedding she always wanted but never had.”

Eric nodded. She’d told him how her parents were married by a justice of the peace. How they’d planned to renew their vows on their twenty-fifth anniversary, throw the sort of elaborate party her mom had always wanted. Unfortunately her father died before they could do it. “She has four unmarried sons whose weddings she could plan.”

Jess shook her head. “Maybe she could help, but wedding planning is pretty much a bride thing. Sadly for us, Mom’s become a Bridezilla without actually being the bride.”

“Kelley’s suffering from the same thing.” He leaned closer and brushed his lips over her cheek. “Maybe we should just lock them in a room together and let them hammer it out themselves.”

“Don’t think I’m not tempted. Yet even if, by some miracle, we’re able to work out all this wedding stuff, there’re still all the underlying hard feelings simmering between everyone. I feel as if I’m walking through a field of land mines. I’m just so damn tired of it. It’s exhausting. I’m at my wits’ end. I honestly don’t know how much more I can take.”

Her words suffused him with a dread he didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to so much as acknowledge. But one that he couldn’t ignore. Although she didn’t say the words, he sensed—no, damn it, he knew—that they had to fix the situation this weekend—or else. He halted and turned to face her then clasped her shoulders. She looked up at him and the dismal expression in her eyes cramped his insides with an unpleasant sensation that felt very much like fear. Fear that everything he wanted was somehow slipping through his fisted hands.

“We’ll get this meeting over with quick, Jess—like yanking off a bandage. A fast meeting, then off they’ll go and we’ll resume our weekend.”