Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost Page 11

  “What’s your name, Ms. Cratchit?”

  The humming stopped. She glanced at him and then at her hands, twisting in her lap. “My name?”

  “Yes, your first name.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Frost.”

  “Frost?”

  She nodded.

  He was tired of the formalities, and despite her strange ways and perhaps because of her defense for Christmas, he wanted to get to know her better. “May I call you Frost from now on?”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Probably not.” With familiarity came friendship, and with friendship came the possibility of opening his heart to her. But what was a man to do? Tannon was lonely—except for Miss Kringle’s letters, he had been lonely his whole life. “But I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”

  She lifted her chin. “Very well. You may call me Frost.”

  “And you will call me Tannon?”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “I already did.”

  “I noticed.” He winked.

  She pressed her fingertip to her lips as if trying to hold back a smile. Her eyelids lowered demurely.

  “Can we start over?”

  “Start over?” she echoed.

  “Yeah. Can we pretend that you didn’t come to work on the worst day possible and that I didn’t stumble upon you in the woods on one of yours? Can we just, I don’t know, call a truce?”

  Frost smiled shyly. “Technically, I stumbled upon you in the woods.”

  He chuckled. “What is it about our worst days that brings us together?”

  Frost’s breath caught. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Well?” He stuck out his hand. “Can we try to be friends?”

  Frost chewed her bottom lip as she looked from his hand to his eyes. “Friends.” They shook, and Tannon’s body tingled with warmth. His thoughts went back to kissing her, to how good it felt to stand close to her, the warmth that surrounded him.

  Who was he kidding? Women like Frost had their choice of men. He may be the wealthiest man in Elderberry, but he wasn’t a man she would consider for anything more than a ride into town and a free meal.

  Chapter 11

  Frost was a messy box of Christmas candy. The kind with rock candy, baby ribbons, pillows, straw, chips, and pinwheels in a multitude of flavors, all mixed up in one shiny display of sugar shock.

  Tannon’s request to start over had taken her off guard. The man had racked up offense after offense, and he wanted her to wipe those clean and start over? He had a son, for the love of fudge!

  All this time, he had a life she didn’t know about. And she thought they’d told each other everything. He was the one person on earth she’d trusted with her secrets and her love. And he’d betrayed her by keeping secrets.

  Wait—was this how Ginger felt when she found out Frost had been writing Tannon for years? Ugh. She was the worst Kringle ever. She pushed the thought to the back shelf for a time when she was ready to face her own ugly. And that time was coming, because she couldn’t go home with it still inside of her. If she made it home.

  She glanced at Tannon’s dignified profile. What he must have been going through all on his own made her heart ache. Unless … unless he had a whole family, a wife and more kids at home.

  What if she’d been the other woman?

  Her skin crawled at the thought. She glanced into the back seat to make sure Brody couldn’t hear. “Is he your only child?” Sounding nonchalant was so much harder than Grandma’s fruitcake in July.

  Tannon glanced in the rearview. “Yep.”

  Frost blurted out the next question. “And his mother?”

  His mean office face was back, the deep line between his brow. “Is out of the picture.”

  Her breath whooshed out of her as if Ginger had summoned the four winds. She wasn’t the other woman. Her heart rocked around the Christmas tree and she felt so much better about agreeing to a truce. They needed to start over, but she was starting waaaay over—going clear back to their letter-writing days, because if they’d been the type of friends she’d thought they were, he would have told her about Brody.

  When he’d asked her name, she’d thought about telling him who she was, but something Ginger had said held her back. She’d said that by telling Tannon everything, she’d taken away his opportunity to have faith. Maybe, if she could get him to believe in Christmas, to have some faith without Miss Kringle, then his Christmas spirit would soar. That was a pretty big maybe, but it was all she had, so she had kept her last name to herself and decided to remain Ms. Cratchit.

  And if he didn’t know who she was, then she could keep him far enough away from her heart that she wouldn’t fall in love with him again.

  Last night, she’d held her warm cocoa cup between her palms and contemplated her past and how she would go about restoring Christmas spirit in the drab little town of Elderberry. She’d decided to put Tannon behind her. It was the only way to move forward. But she was finding that she was happy when she was with him. Well, when he wasn’t storming around the office in a black cloud. She’d watched him with Brody, and the way his eyes lit up when Brody smiled endeared him to her in a way that no letter ever could.

  Tannon’s emotions surrounding her in the vehicle were just as scattered as her own feelings for him. Most of the time, he didn’t trust her. That was both understanding and upsetting. She’d said some pretty awful things to him at the office before she’d left, so she could understand why he would think she was out to get him. But then, there were moments when he softened. Then there was the zing of attraction that appeared without warning. Frost had to work doubly hard to keep her own emotions under control when Tannon looked at her with hunger in his eyes. Like she was a white chocolate peppermint truffle he couldn’t wait to taste. Feeling his emotions feed her emotions created this circular cotton-candy effect in her brain. She couldn’t afford to go all spun sugar. She needed to stay focused on the goal and get back home.

  Tannon’s phone rang through the Bluetooth speakers. The caller ID popped up on the radio console and read Mom. He cringed. “Sorry, I need to take this.”

  “No problem.”

  He fished his phone out of the inside of his coat. “Hi, Mom.”

  Frost looked out the window to afford him what little privacy one could get when having a conversation in the car. They passed a diner with pink and blue neon wrapping around the building. There were huge windows facing the parking lot, and the inside had teal booths and silver accents. A picture of a pumpkin pie had been painted on one of the windows, along with an invitation to come on in and try a slice.

  “I have to stop somewhere first.” He turned and lifted his shoulder as he paused. “Someone who needed a ride.”

  Frost pulled her lips in to keep from giggling. He was trying hard not to tell May Cebu that he had a woman in the car. She could feel the heat under his collar as his mom prodded. She turned back to look at him pointedly, enjoying watching him squirm.

  He rolled his eyes. “My, uh, assistant.” Pause. “No, not Mrs. Garron.” Pause. “Mom—no. I’ll be home soon.” He hung up and gave Frost an apologetic shrug. “Mothers, right?” They entered Elderberry’s city limits, and homes started popping up. “I didn’t ask you where you want me to drop you off.”

  Frost threaded her fingers together and hooked them around her knee. She hadn’t thought too much about where she was going to end up, but she didn’t have to think hard. The rental was theirs for the month. Stella had booked an extended stay in case she met a man and needed a place to pretend was home. “You can take me home. Turn right at the next light.”

  He nodded, turning on his signal. They pulled into the rental. The lights were off, the house dark and foreboding.

  Frost drew in a breath to fortify herself. It was Thanksgiving and she was all alone.

  “This is your house?”

  “It’s a rental.” She continued
to stare at the empty structure. The dark front porch was a stark reminder that she’d betrayed her family, and Christmas’s trust.

  “I suppose your car breaking down has kept you from a Thanksgiving dinner.”

  She smiled sadly. “Something like that.”

  He frowned. “Do you want me to drive you to your parents’?”

  She shook her head. “We aren’t on the best of terms this year.” She knew exactly what the family was doing at that moment. Robyn and her mom would put the finishing touches on the feast to end all feasts. They’d wear aprons over their evening gowns. In the Kringle house, Thanksgiving was a formal affair. Dad, Joseph, and Oliver would wear tuxes, and Quik would wear his army dress uniform. She’d had it cleaned and pressed not long ago, knowing how much Lux enjoyed seeing her husband in his shiny shoes. The dining room would burst at the seams this year. She sniffed, missing her family more than she missed reading letters. Layla had come to her apartment to get ready last year; they’d had such fun finding the perfect accessories for their dresses, and she’d added a dab of peach-colored gloss to Layla’s lips. Pretty soon, the girl would be old enough to wear proper makeup, and if Frost didn’t appease Christmas Magic, she’d miss it.

  “Because you lost your job?” Tannon asked, his eyes wide.

  She huffed and then sniffed again. “Something like that.”

  Tannon shoved the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We can’t have you missing Thanksgiving dinner. It’s my fault you don’t have a job, so I guess I’ll just have to feed you.”

  “It was my fault.” She patted her chest.

  He chuckled. “You may have quit, but who can be expected to work for Scrooge?”

  She folded her arms, acting upset but secretly smiling. “You can say that again.”

  “Hey!” He reached over and squeezed her knee, making her jump.

  She playfully smacked his hand away. “Be nice, or I’ll put you on the Na—” She caught herself.

  Tannon’s playfulness died away quickly, his eyes becoming sharp. “On the what?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Nothing. I don’t know what I was going to say.”

  “Uh-huh.” He regarded her out of the corner of his eye.

  Frost held her breath, praying he didn’t prod or push her. She was trying to do right by Christmas here. If she was going to do this right, she needed to stop flirting and start Christmasing Tannon.

  Chapter 12

  Tannon pulled into the garage so Frost and Brody could get out of the car without being covered in snowflakes. The black clouds had rolled right into town and were unloading their cargo. Thankfully, there wasn’t any wind. The palm-sized flakes drifted from the sky like flour through a sifter. He hesitated in the car, not sure if bringing Frost home was a good idea or not. He didn’t want his parents to get the wrong idea about him and his assistant—ex-assistant.

  He really should hire her back. The office had never been so organized, nor so cheery. The contrast between her arrival and the place after her departure was too marked to ignore. That was a conversation for later. Now, he needed to get inside and explain things to his parents. Frost wasn’t a romantic interest of his; she was a charity project. Knowing his parents, they’d welcome her with open arms either way. But he’d be more comfortable with a charity case. Romance wasn’t something he excelled at in life, hence Brody’s mom taking off before the hospital had a chance to send the bill. Although, Frost was easy to tease. She’d sure jumped when he’d squeezed her knee, and he wondered if she was ticklish anywhere else.

  Brody’s laughter brought him out of his thoughts, and he jumped from the car to find his efforts at keeping snow off their shoes completely wasted. Frost stood in the middle of the driveway, her arms stretched out to the side and her head thrown back. Her mouth was open as she tried to catch snowflakes on her tongue while spinning in a circle.

  “One,” she called as she swallowed. Her eyes danced, inviting him to join them.

  “I got two!” Brody wasn’t spinning. He was jumping after snowflakes, biting at them like a puppy in his first snowfall.

  Tannon laughed.

  “Two,” counted Frost. She stopped and then spun the other direction. “No hands, Brody.” She laughed that beautiful jingle bell sound, and both Brody and Tannon stopped to just watch her. One huge snowflake landed right on her tongue and she threw her arms in the air. “Three. I win.” Her smile faltered. “What? Do I have snow on my face?” She brushed at her cheeks.

  “Wait.” Tannon stepped forward. He removed his gloves and brushed the snow off her eyelashes, his fingers tingling at the contact. Her lashes tickled his skin, and he grew warm all over. Her amethyst eyes deepened in color, and his heart quickened.

  “Check me. Check me, Dad.” Brody tugged at his coat sleeve and Tannon glanced down at him, breaking the spell.

  He brushed his fingers over Brody’s eyes, even though he didn’t have a snowflake on them. “You’re all clear. Let’s go inside.”

  “Aw.” Brody kicked at the snow as they walked to the garage. Once they were next to the car, they all stomped off their boots. The snow was up to their ankles.

  “At this rate, the snow will be up to the rooftops before morning.” Tannon pushed open the door to the mudroom and unzipped his coat. “We’ll be living in a snow fort.” He tugged Brody’s hat off and dropped it into the basket.

  “That would be sick.” Brody wiggled out of his snow gear.

  Frost giggled and knelt down to help him with his boots and then his snow pants. He took off running, his stocking feet slipping on the hardwood floor.

  Tannon sighed. “What would it be like to have that much energy?”

  Frost laughed. “Let’s give it a try.” She ran a few steps and then planted her feet to slide across the recently waxed floor, sending her tumbling into Dad, who happened to be coming around the corner at the wrong time.

  He caught her with an “Oof!”

  Frost’s face turned red. “Cinnamon sticks! I’m so sorry, Donald. I mean, Mr. Cebu.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and sent Tannon a pleading look.

  Tannon shook his head. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Frost Cratchit. She was a temp in my office last week, and I found her stranded on the side of the road today.”

  Dad rubbed his side where Frost had hit into him and scowled.

  Tannon decided to lay it on thick. “She’s alone for the holiday, so I invited her to dinner. I didn’t think you would mind.”

  Dad’s demeanor changed immediately. He was a sucker for someone in need. “Welcome, Ms. Cratchit.”

  “Please, call me Frost.”

  “What an unusual name.”

  She lifted her shoulders and bit her lip.

  “You can hang your, uh, jumpsuit there, and we’ll take you in to meet May.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brody slid back into the room and took Dad by the hand. “Grandpa—come help me build the train tracks.”

  Dad hesitated.

  Tannon shooed them along. “I can introduce Frost to Mom. You two go ahead.” He turned back in time to see Frost shimmy out of her jumpsuit. Her back was to him and he had a view that he was suddenly thankful for. She might be petite, but she had the right curves in the right places. Her shapely legs were wrapped tight in a pair of brown leggings, and she had on a fitted, long-sleeved cream-colored shirt. She snapped open her purse and brought out a long, emerald-green cardigan that she shook the wrinkles out of quite easily. Without turning around, she pulled her hair out of the messy bun from earlier, and perfect waves cascaded down her back.

  Tannon’s hand had come out in front of him, as if it needed to touch her hair. He struggled to pull it back to his side just as she flipped around. She slung her purse strap across her body. He glanced at the purse. He could have sworn that it was black to match the fur on her pink jumpsuit, but now it looked dark brown. He blinked. It must have b
een the lighting.

  He thought about holding out his arm to escort her to the kitchen, but that was ridiculous. He tucked his hands in his pockets and jerked his head. “Come on, kitchen’s this way.”

  Frost fished a lip gloss out of her purse and applied it quickly. “I must look a fright.”

  “You look wonderful,” Tannon said, his voice much too low and intimate. He cleared his throat and threw open the kitchen door.

  Mom was at the oven, checking the turkey. She stood up, laughing because her glasses fogged over from the steam.

  Frost covered her giggle with her hand.

  Mom paused, ripping her glasses off and blinking at Frost. “Tannon Cebu! You should have warned me you were bringing a guest.” She marched over to Frost and hugged her tight. “Welcome to our home. My, but aren’t you a pretty thing.”

  Frost ducked her head. “Thank you, but you should see my sisters.” She glanced at Tannon. “Don’t be mad at your son. He didn’t know I was tagging along until just a few minutes ago.”

  “Still.” She reached up to hug Tannon. “A text?”

  “Sorry.” He hugged her back. She moved quickly back to the oven.

  Frost hugged herself as her eyes roamed over the spotless appliances and granite countertops. Like Mom needed to worry about a guest—the place was always clean. “Your home is beautiful. I love the use of color. It’s so refreshing to have things so bright and cheerful.”

  “Thank you. A lot of homes are going with white these days, but I’ve always loved color.” Mom pointed to the turkey in the oven. “Tannon, this is done. Can you get it out? Put it on that platter.”

  Frost rubbed her hands together. “What can I do?”

  “Would you mind peeling those potatoes so we can mash them? They should be cool by now. I’m afraid I’m running behind today.”

  “Sure.” Frost went to work.

  Tannon bent carefully to get the turkey out of the oven. He braced himself with his good leg as much as he could. The pan landed with a crash on the top of the oven. Neither Mom nor Frost said anything about his clumsiness. At least he hadn’t dropped the turkey. Who knew a bird with all the trimmings weighed so much? But it wasn’t the weight that was the problem; it was the odd angle.