12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart Read online

  That was good. That was really good.

  I wasn’t one to break down in tears very often, but I felt them pricking at the backs of my eyes. “So now what?”

  She stared out the window, watching the city pass by. “So now we figure out how to make this work.”

  Chapter 6

  Elaine

  Getting to know each other again after all this time was proving to be an adventure.

  There were some things that hadn’t changed. I was still cold all the time. Jim always did everything he could to be sure everyone around him was comfortable and smiling, having a good time. He still did better steering clear of the kitchen, whereas cooking was one of my favorite things to do.

  But there were differences now, too. The whole time I was in the kitchen making our Christmas Eve dinner, he was right by my side. Not getting in my way, though. Years ago, if he’d come into the kitchen while I worked, I usually fussed at him to move because he was slowing me down. This time, he was reaching for things before I realized I needed them and handing them to me so I could keep doing what I was doing.

  And we talked. The whole time I worked on our glazed ham, mashed sweet potatoes, and roasted Brussels sprouts, we got to know each other all over again. I filled him in on all the Christmas traditions Dillon and I had followed over the years. Jim wanted to know every tiny detail, right down to when we hung the stockings over the mantel and how many presents I allowed him to open on Christmas Eve.

  “Your gifts for him had to wait until Christmas Day,” I said, sliding the butcher knife down the center of a sweet potato.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because that was when we opened the important presents.”

  A certain sadness came into his eyes when I said that.

  “He didn’t think they were all that important, did he?”

  “He will someday. And I wanted to be sure there was a distinction.” I tossed the sweet potatoes into the steamer and set the butcher knife down on the counter. “I never wanted to keep him from you, Jim. I always tried to be sure he had a relationship with you. That you had one with him.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  He chuckled and grabbed a handful of toasted nuts from the bowl at the edge of the counter, chewing a pecan before answering me. “You said he’s a lot like me?”

  “So much that it broke my heart all over again every time he picked up another of your habits. It was like you were with me, even though you weren’t.”

  “Well, if he’s a lot like me, then he probably tends to internalize things. Keep it all bottled up inside. And then blame whoever it’s easiest to blame.”

  “You only blame yourself, though.”

  “Which makes it really easy for Dillon to blame me, too. Clearly, I already agreed with him, right?” He picked out a walnut and held it out for me to eat from his hand, bringing a bit of flirtation into our conversation. “So what do you think he’s doing now, without you there?”

  “He’s starting up a new set of traditions with Kelsey, I’d imagine.” The realization hit me like one of Jim’s players slamming me into the boards and brought a new sort of ache to my heart. Dillon was all grown up now. He was starting his own life. Which was what I wanted for him, of course, but at the same time, it left a piece of me hollow. Dillon was all I’d had for so many years. He was my world, and now he was making his own.

  That was even more reason for me and Jim to find a way to repair the relationship as best we could. He’d been alone all this time. He’d had this same hollow ache inside his chest every Christmas, wondering what sort of things Dillon and I were doing without him.

  “Were you lonely?” I asked, putting the steamer on the stove. “All those Christmases without us?”

  He shrugged it off. “I was never alone. My teammates always made sure I had somewhere to go while I was playing, and since I’ve been working in the front offices, there’ve always been families inviting me along. I got to experience countless family holiday traditions over the years.”

  “But they weren’t yours.”

  “No. Well, I suppose they were in a sense.”

  “But not the sense you wanted.”

  “Not in the sense I wanted. No.”

  “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m sorry I took all of that from you, and no amount of apologizing can ever make it better.”

  “But you’re here now.” He smiled at me when he said it, a real smile that wiped away his earlier sadness.

  “I’m here now.”

  “So what do you say we start a new tradition? Since we’re giving this a real shot, I mean.”

  I washed my hands and dried them on a dishtowel, pleased as punch that things were going as smoothly as they were. I honestly hadn’t been sure it was going to work out for us at first. I loved Jim with everything in me, but he was stubborn when it came to carrying the whole world on his shoulders and not wanting to share the load.

  “What kind of new tradition?” I asked cautiously.

  “You said that with Dillon, you always saved the important gifts for Christmas Day?”

  “Yes…”

  “I want the two of us to always give the most important gift on Christmas Eve.” He grinned, and his whole face lit up. “I know you might not have something—”

  “I do,” I cut in. “I have something I want to give you.” I just wasn’t sure it would go the way I’d been hoping for. All of a sudden, my insides all knotted up with nerves again, like they had been when I’d first arrived in Portland.

  “Yeah?” He raised his brows in question.

  I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Come on.” He took my hand and led me into the living room. The fire in the hearth had the room lit up in a soft glow, and the first few snowflakes were starting to fall outside.

  “We’re getting a white Christmas,” I murmured.

  He turned to look out the window. “Well, look at that.” Then he took a seat on the sofa and tugged me down beside him, reaching for something behind one of the pillows. “This is turning out better than I could have planned it. Me first.”

  When he brought his hand out, he held what appeared to be a small black jewelry box with a simple red silk bow tied around it.

  I shook my head. “You didn’t have time to go jewelry shopping.”

  “Just open it.”

  With shaking fingers, I loosened the bow and slid the ribbon off. Nerves zinging and leaving me jumpy, I opened the lid.

  A single, silver house key lay in a bed of red satin.

  I jerked my head up to meet Jim’s gaze.

  “A key to my house. I know—I don’t want to rush you into coming to stay if you’re not ready, and I know you’ve got a whole life in Minnesota. Dillon and Kelsey are there. But you came back into my life, and you said you wanted another chance. For us. To make this work. And I want it, too. I want it as much as I want my next breath. So whenever you’re ready, I want you to come home.”

  “Home?” My eyes fluttered to hold back tears, not that it was any use. And I’d made the same rookie mistake again today. Mascara was sure to be steaking down my cheeks any moment. Damn if I didn’t want to look as good as I could for him.

  He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb and then cupped my face in the palm of his hand. “Home. And not just for the holidays.”

  I took the key out of the box and fished in my pocket for my set of keys. My hand was still shaking too much for me to get the key on the ring, so Jim took it all from my hands and finished the job for me, grinning as he pressed the set into the palm of my hand. He moved to kiss me, but I stopped him with my palm to the center of his chest.

  “Not yet. I have something for you first.”

  He nodded.

  I returned my keys to my pocket, digging my phone out of the other one. I dialed Dillon’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Merry Christmas, Mom,” he said, sounding happy and healthy and perfect.

&nbs
p; “Merry Christmas to you, too. Are you having a good time with Kelsey’s family?”

  “They’re great. We’re about to drive around town and look at all the Christmas lights everyone has up.”

  “That sounds great.” I glanced over at Jim, noting the crease in his brow. Anxiety. He’d figured out what I was planning to give him. I reached over and took his hand, holding it firm in mine to reassure him. “Listen, Dillon, there’s something I need you to do before that.”

  Jim shook his head and tried to back away, but I wouldn’t let go.

  “You know I’ll do anything for you, Mom.”

  “I know you will. So I want you to talk to your father.”

  “I… Really?”

  “Do it for me, Dillon. I love you.”

  Before my son could argue with me, I passed the phone to Jim and got up to return to the kitchen. Their first conversation in a decade should be private, and I needed to check on dinner.

  Twenty minutes later, Jim brought my phone to me in the kitchen. Crying. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry. Maybe not ever. He’d always had a heart twice the size of a normal man, but tears weren’t part of his usual repertoire.

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep mine at bay. “Good tears or bad tears?” I really hoped they were good, but there was something in my gut telling me bad was more likely.

  He set my phone on the counter and nodded. And kept nodding, like he couldn’t get words out.

  I opened my arms, and he came straight into them, wrapping me tight in a bear hug that might just rob me of my breath, but I didn’t care. He buried his face in my hair.

  “Good,” he whispered against my ear. “Really good.”

  I held him until his tears stopped and my ability to breathe returned. And then I heard something.

  Singing.

  “Carolers?” I asked as Jim backed away, drying his eyes on his sleeves.

  He raised a brow and looked toward the front door. “Sure sounds like it.”

  The familiar strains of “Silent Night” gradually became clearer. Whoever was caroling, they were doing it here, at Jim’s house.

  He reached for my hand, and we went together to the door. He opened it, and we stepped out on the front porch to find Coach Bergstrom and his family all dressed in white gowns with red sashes. An older couple was with them, too, as well as a man and woman who had Down syndrome like Sophie. The girls had wreaths on their heads lit up with candles, and little Sophie was holding a tray filled with cookies as everyone else sang.

  The snow was coming down a lot heavier now, and I shivered. Jim wrapped his arms around me from behind and held me close, warming me all around.

  “Pepparkakor,” the coach explained, nodding at Sophie’s tray. “They’re gingersnap biscuits. Mom and Linnea taught the girls to make them. We’re honoring St. Lucia by bringing them to you. It’s a Swedish tradition,” he added, winking. “And caroling is something Paige and the girls do every Christmas.”

  “A bit of the old and a bit of the new,” Jim said.

  “That’s right.”

  They finished their song, and Sophie lifted her tray toward me. “Merry Christmas, Miss Elaine.”

  I took it from her. “Thank you so much. And Merry Christmas to you, too. All of you,” I added, nodding at each of them.

  Sophie curled a finger for me to come closer.

  I took a step out of Jim’s arms and leaned in.

  “Did you use the mistletoe with Mr. Jim?” she whispered.

  “I did.”

  “So it worked like Miss Mia said it would?”

  I laughed. “Yes. It worked.”

  She nodded so hard the force blew out a couple of her wreath candles. “Good. Because Mr. Jim needs someone to love him. He shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.”

  “He’s got that, sweetheart. He’s not alone anymore.” And I’d be damned if he would ever be alone again. I finally had my second chance, and I had no intention of squandering it.

  About the Author

  Catherine Gayle is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary hockey romance and Regency-set historical romance. She’s a transplanted Texan living in North Carolina with two extremely spoiled felines. In her spare time, she watches way too much hockey and reality TV, plans fun things to do for the Nephew Monster’s next visit, and performs experiments in the kitchen which are rarely toxic.

  If you enjoyed this book and want to know when more like it will be available, be sure to sign up for Catherine’s mailing list. Joining the mailing list will also give you access to a subscribers-only Portland Storm short story called Ice Breaker!

  You can find out more about Catherine on her website, her blog, at Hockey Romance, at Facebook, on Twitter, and at Goodreads. If you want to see some of her cats’ antics and possibly the occasional video update from Catherine, visit her YouTube account.

  Other books by Catherine Gayle

  Portland Storm series

  Ice Breaker

  Breakaway

  On the Fly

  Taking a Shot

  Light the Lamp

  Delay of Game

  Double Major

  In the Zone

  Holiday Hat Trick

  Comeback

  Dropping Gloves

  Home Ice

  Mistletoe Misconduct

  Losing an Edge – coming soon

  Game Breaker – coming soon

  Want to join in the conversation? Join the Portland Storm Reader Group on Facebook.

  Tulsa Thunderbirds series

  Bury the Hatchet

  Smoke Signals

  Ghost Dance – coming soon

  Rites of Passage – coming soon

  Want to join in the conversation? Join in the Tulsa Thunderbirds Reader Group on Facebook.

  For a list of all her historical romances, please visit her website

  Hearts On Ice

  by Jami Davenport

  Copyright © 2015 by Cedrona Enterprises

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Jami Davenport. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Foreword

  This novella is the continuation of Blake and Sarah’s story which began one year prior in Love at First Snow and was featured in Melting Ice.

  Chapter 1

  The Break

  Blake Daniels heard the ominous snap before he felt it. Then the pain hit him in wave after wave of excruciating agony followed by nausea. He struggled to get up and skate away as he’d done countless times before during his long NHL career. Denial had served him well in the past, but not this time.

  Instead, his body betrayed him and refused to cooperate, sending him sprawling across the ice and landing in an embarrassing heap at the feet of team captain Cooper Black. Coop stared down at him, concern written in every line of his face. Blake glanced around at his other teammates. Their expressions ranged from sympathy from the veterans to outright fear from the rookies.

  It couldn’t be that bad.

  He glanced down at his leg and saw the odd angle of his skate.

  Oh, yeah, it was that bad.

&nb
sp; Fuck.

  He closed his eyes and allowed the medics to do their job. At thirty-five years old, he didn’t need a doctor to tell him this injury had most likely shattered his hockey career. He was looking at a long rehab and no more second chances. The moment he’d been dreading for the past few years had finally come to fruition.

  Through the fog of the intense pain, only one thought raced through his mind like a hamster on a wheel.

  What the hell was he going to do with the rest of his life?

  * * *

  Sarah Whitney’s guilty pleasure was watching Sockeye hockey games and, more specifically, veteran defenseman Blake Daniels. She even subscribed to the hockey channel so she wouldn’t miss a game. She recognized her obsession as pathetic considering she was the one who had broken it off with Blake.

  Despite what Blake or their mutual friends might think, she’d done it for him. Hockey was his first, last, and only love. She had a thriving veterinary practice on Madrona Island, one of Washington State’s San Juan Islands. She wasn’t moving to the mainland, and he wasn’t giving up hockey. Even when he retired, he planned to work in hockey in some capacity, which wouldn’t be possible if he were living on a remote island three hours from Seattle when the traffic was good.

  Breaking up with him had crushed her, but she couldn’t continue their long-distance relationship any longer. They had no future, and Sarah was a practical, logical woman. She still loved Blake and was resigned to the fact that she’d never find another man to fill the gaping void left by his absence in her life. Despite the short amount of time they’d been together, he’d burrowed deep into her heart and paid rent for a lifetime. Even if he didn’t live there anymore, she wasn’t breaking the lease.

  As she tuned into the game that night, she wondered when she’d stop torturing herself by watching him play. No one needed to tell her how ridiculous and destructive her behavior was, she already knew, but such knowledge didn’t turn the TV to another channel or cancel her subscription to the NHL Network.