I'll Be Yours for Christmas (11 page)

“I told them that,” he said, making eye contact. “I know you don't want to sell. I know this affects you, too, my selling. I can't promise I'm going to sell to someone you'll approve of—”

“Keller,” she said woodenly.

“Maybe. If there are options, we can talk about them.”

“Okay.”

“But Abby?”

“Hmm?”

“I am going back to Europe and back to racing, sooner than later if I have my way. I need you to know that.”

She knew it, but she couldn't help asking what was on her mind since she'd seen him in the café. “I thought the news said, I mean, they said the doctors said…” She faltered, hating to say it out loud.

“That my injuries were too severe, I know. That I would probably never make the full recovery needed to race again,” he bit out, looking away, bitterness and determination carved into every line of his face. “I know what they say.” He pushed a hand through his hair.

He looked so tense, she took a step closer, trying to find something encouraging to say. “Well, you seem pretty healthy to me,” she said with a smile. “What are they waiting for?”

He looked up and seemed to relax a little.

“I have relapses, numbness, some pins and needles, and my reflex time has slowed down. I can build it back up if I can get back into proper training. The longer I'm here…”

She nodded, keeping her tone neutral. “The harder it is for you to get back in.”

He sighed. “I'll be easily forgotten, replaced, if I don't get back in soon. I have to show them I can do it.”

“Why?” Why did he want to return to a sport that almost killed him and might not take him back?

He stared at her in surprise. “I love it. It's the one thing I have ever really loved doing, really excelled at.”

She frowned, thinking back. Reece had been an excellent student and athlete.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It's true. I was good at a lot of things, but nothing was my passion. Sometimes I ever wondered if I would have one. My dad would always say how he'd had wine in his blood and he felt so connected to this place. Ben knew what he wanted to do, to design golf courses, since he stepped foot on one when he was ten. I never had that
focus, that desire, until I found racing. I can't even think of what else I would do with myself,” he said, sounding slightly hollow, and her heart went out to him. “It's all I know.”

“I can understand that,” she said, and she did. She loved her home, her business, and she couldn't imagine any other work, either.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then opening them again. “Give me a week. I'm meeting with Hannah to see if there's any way for me to liquidate assets and maybe buy you out. I don't know if it's possible, but maybe we could work something out, if you're willing.”

He nodded. “I'd love you to have the place, and if there's a way we can do that, I'm all for it. I know my parents would be thrilled, too. We don't want to sell to Keller, but the market is so hard now, and we can't keep this place running for long.”

“I'll do what I can,” she said, but hope faded as she thought about the insurance money not coming through.

It had been feasible that she could have used that as a down payment, but she didn't tell Reece that. “And if we can't, and if you have to sell to Keller, do it. Maybe you can even leave earlier, get back to your life, your training,” she said, proud of how calm she sounded.

“Trying to get rid of me, Abby?” He offered a small, slanted smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

“No, but you obviously need to get back. The sooner the better, right?” She sounded brittle to her own ears.

He stood close again, and she resisted the urge to lift a hand, to touch him. How had this become so difficult so quickly?

“And until then?”

She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to debate the options and treat what was between them like a contract, discussing the terms and what-ifs.

She wanted him, and she had the chance to spend some time with him over the holiday. She'd be too busy to deal with a broken heart later, she figured.

Reaching up, she slid her hands around his neck, linking her arms behind and pulling his mouth down to hers.

“In the meantime, we have this,” she said, kissing him until talking wasn't what either of them was interested in.

A
BBY KNEW
R
EECE WAS
avoiding her, she just didn't know why.

In the three days since their talk, their last kiss—a kiss that hadn't led to a night in his bed—they'd both been busy and preoccupied.

When she was at the house, he seemed to be gone, and she was too busy even when he was there, working in the tasting room until late hours, getting things set up, preparing for the upcoming wedding and Christmas events.

As before, she'd come home to find him already in bed, his light shining under the closed door, or in the workout room going through the punishing routine that he did two or three times a day now. She didn't want to interrupt.

She hadn't slept well for those lonely nights, and so maybe this was best. She had too much happening to lose sleep over relationship drama.

Like right now, Abby was trying to get the supplies out to the yard where the Christmas trees waited. Hannah was supposed to have come with help an hour ago,
but called to say she had a bad tire and had to have it changed before she could pick up their other part-timer for the day and get out there.

So Abby was on her own. Again. She didn't like to complain—she loved her work—but so much of it had come down on her shoulders recently, she was starting to feel it more than ever.

In a short while, the yard would fill with parents and children for the Christmas tree–decorating contest. Tasting was set up for the parents, with cases of both Maple Hills and Winston Vineyard wines up for first prize, with single bottles for second and third, along with fun prizes for the kids, who could also take part in a snowball-throwing contest and a snowman build-a-thon. The first-place winner would also get a free weekend at her inn next summer as a way to promote future business, and to ensure people would know she was rebuilding.

Boxes of lights, garland and unbreakable ornaments as well as popcorn were ready to be strung, along with other creative decorations that had to be hauled out to the yard and set up. Everything had to be ready to start just past noon. She'd been running behind all morning and could have used a hand, waiting for Hannah and her other helper.

Reece's truck was over by the barn, but she hadn't seen him yet. He had come in late the night before and was probably sleeping in. Besides, he'd been clear that he didn't want to be too involved with the everyday business of the winery. He was handling the Winston inventory and sales, and answered any questions she had, but otherwise, he stayed out of it.

Now that seemed to include her, too, apparently. She didn't understand it, but something had changed after their talk. Maybe he realized he'd made a mistake, or maybe he had simply gotten what he wanted.

She had, too, right? So why did it hurt so much now? She'd gone into it with her eyes open. They hadn't made any commitments. No promises. Reece had made it clear he was still poised to leave, and she had been the one throwing herself back at him. Maybe, in his way, he had been trying to back away, but she just didn't get it. Why couldn't he just tell her so instead of avoiding her? Or maybe he had only meant it to be a one-night thing, and she had misunderstood.

She was about to pick up another full box and bring it out to the yard when she heard footsteps, Reece coming down the creaky hardwood stairs from his room. He turned the corner, pausing when he saw her. She was grateful to see him, but also worried. He looked like he hadn't slept all night, either.

“Hey,” she said, unable to ignore the way the brown hair mussed, the five o'clock shadow thick on his jaw. His body was probably still warm from sleep, and the magnetic pull toward him was hard to resist. But she did. She leaned down and picked up the box instead, holding it in front of her like a barrier.

“Hey,” he said back, looking toward the kitchen.

“There's still coffee if you want some,” she offered.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a few steps in that direction, and she noticed him wince, a hitch on his left side.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he said. “Just had a rough night.”

There was no warmth in his voice, and she felt
awkward and exposed standing there, even though she was dressed in her winter coat and sweater. None of it seemed enough to keep the hurt his tone caused from penetrating into her chest.

She told herself to stop being stupid. He'd had a bad night and was tired and a little grumpy, that was all. Maybe he just needed some downtime, or some fun.

“Okay, well, we have the tree-decorating contest today. It's going to be a good time, and you're welcome to join. In fact—”

“Listen, Abby, I don't think I can do this. It's too complicated,” he said wearily.

“It's just trees, Reece, we're going to—”

“I don't mean the trees,” he said abruptly and shuffled off into the kitchen.

Abby took the box outside without another word, hoping the cold slap of air on her cheeks would freeze the tears stinging behind her eyes. So, he had been trying to break things off, and she hadn't understood. Now she did.

Still, did he have to be so harsh? What had she done to deserve that?

Whatever warmth was between them seemed to have evaporated. Maybe it was better. Being together like they were would only make it harder, and she couldn't say he wasn't honest about things.

Yes, this was better, she thought, her heart aching as she dropped the box by the Christmas trees and turned to get another one, pulling her coat tighter as the sun dipped behind a cloud.

Then anger set in. He might be having a hard time of it, but that was no reason to treat her badly.

Whatever was going on, she deserved better treatment from him than being so easily dismissed, she thought as she walked back in for another box and stepped past them and into the kitchen instead. She stopped in the doorway, hearing two voices, realizing Reece had turned on the speakerphone.

She should leave, she thought, but her feet didn't seem to move.

“I can do it, Joe, give me a chance to show you. Whatever little things are still bugging me, I can ignore them. It's not a big deal,” Reece said, tense.

“If it were just up to me, I'd give you a shot, but it's not. Something happens to that car this early in the game, I don't have to tell you how bad that would be. I'll be out of a job, and we'll both have lawsuits landing on us. The doc says no. Sorry to say it, but you're out, Reece. It's just a shitty break.”

“I don't give a damn what he says, how the hell can he know what I'm able to do?” Reece's voice rose.

The other man sighed audibly over the phone. “Reece, you need to accept reality. It can't happen. You're one lucky bastard as it is, having survived that wreck. What's still wrong with your body is enough to take you out at two hundred if something goes wrong, and you know it. Why go take a second chance at killing yourself?”

“I'd be fine. Just let me do some test drives in January, I'll show you.”

Abby's heart squeezed painfully for him; he wanted this so much, and it didn't sound like things were going his way.

“I'll see what I can do, Reece. But you haven't been
cleared on the post-traumatic stress issues, either. The doctor said you stopped the counseling.”

Abby froze. PTS? She'd heard more about that in the news lately, with returning soldiers, but she hadn't thought about it in terms of things like a car accident. But it made perfect sense—anytime someone almost lost their life, especially if there were violent circumstances, post-traumatic stress would be an issue.

She put a hand to her lips. Maybe that was why Reece was acting so erratically, having nightmares and so forth. Her anger melted in the face of new information.

“I'm fine. Take my word for it.”

“Well, the sponsors are looking at a new guy, an up-and-comer, got a hot record so far, and…”

Abby didn't hear the rest of what the guy had to say. She watched as Reece's head fell forward in a clear expression of his frustration and unhappiness at the news.

She took a step, then another, needing to comfort him in some way, his earlier surliness forgotten. None of that mattered. All that she cared about at the moment was being there for Reece, the way he'd been there for her lately.

 

R
EECE HAD SO MANY
emotions crashing together inside of him, he didn't know which one to deal with first. Anger that they wouldn't listen and that the damned doctors wouldn't clear him. Betrayal that they wouldn't trust him to do what he was so good at doing, that they were just writing him off.

Fear that he'd never get to drive again, or maybe he
was way past fear and closer to panic. Joe said the team was already lining up someone new.

When he looked up from where he had braced his hands against the counter over a cooling cup of coffee and saw Abby looking at him with her heart in her eyes, he added embarrassment to the mix.

“Joe, I have to go. See what you can do, I'll be in touch,” he said, hanging up abruptly.

“Reece…” she began. “Eavesdropping, Abby?”

“No!” She closed her eyes, blowing out a breath. “I mean, not on purpose. I came back in to talk, and you were on the phone, and I just…heard,” she explained.

“I see.”

He'd knew that he'd growled at her when he came downstairs, still groggy from the painkillers he was taking to help him sleep through the pain in his left leg that had been torturing him for the last few days.

He hadn't touched Abby since their conversation about the sale, and he didn't intend to. While she had come to him even after he told her it could never be more than sex, he decided to put some distance between them, to cool things off, for both of their sakes. It didn't matter that he wanted more, too. He knew they were getting in too deep, too fast, and it wouldn't be good for either of them in the end. Better to hurt her now, the way he saw it.

He hadn't counted on it, but he missed her like hell, and that pissed him off, too, unaccountably. He'd avoided emotional complications with women, and this was why.

The first two nights he'd been awake, he'd only been
able to think about her being a few yards down the hall, and how much he wanted her. He'd paced, tossed and turned, worked out and then, probably due to anxiety and lack of sleep, his left side started acting up worse than ever.

So last night he'd turned to the painkillers to smother the pain, which was now accompanied by a burning sensation that was a new kind of agony. If it kept up, he knew he'd have to go in to see the doctors, but he was determined to make it stop or to learn to ignore it. He was trying hard to ignore it.

Abby chewed her lip, watching him, looking unsure. He grabbed the coffee and then set it down, his fingers curling tightly as he fought the urge to go to her, to smooth over his harsh words.

“I'm so sorry, Reece.”

“For what?”

“That they don't want you to race anymore,” she said, her words soft, pained, for him.

He frowned, not wanting her sympathy. That was the last thing he wanted. “Don't waste your pity on me, Abby. I am going to drive again, and soon.”

“But he said—”

“I know what he said. They might have some new hotshot lined up, but I can talk to the sponsors myself. I have a strong record, a following, and there's nothing fans like more than a comeback. I will make a hell of a lot more money for them, and get more wins, than someone green out of the gate,” he said, almost convincing himself.

“What about the post-traumatic stress?”

“That's nothing. A few nightmares, some lost sleep. It will pass. The rest I can handle.”

“Maybe dismissing it too easily is part of the problem,” she offered.

Reece put a hand up. Abby was a good friend who meant well, he knew, but her words got his back up. He wanted to keep their friendship in place, but he also wasn't going to have this conversation with her.

“Abby, listen. I care about you, and I want us to be friends, but there's a lot you don't know about me. I know my own limitations.”

“You have to talk about it with someone,” she countered.

“Not you.”

“Why not?”

“Abby, we slept together. That doesn't give you a free pass into my life,” he said. “Besides, it's not like you don't have your own agenda. The longer I stay, the better for you, putting off the sale, right?”

He regretted the words as they passed his lips, but was unable to resist the urge to push her away.

Why? Because she was right? Was Joe right, too?

He couldn't deal with it and turned to leave, surprised when he felt her hand on his arm, pulling him back around.

She was furious, her eyes were mossy green, darkened by emotion. Her hand left his arm to settle on her hip, but he'd missed her so much that even such a quick touch left its impression.

“Are you serious? You think I am sleeping with you to stall you from selling?”

He didn't, he never thought that, but he didn't say so. If she hated his guts, things would probably work out easier for both of them. She had enough to think about without worrying about his problems, too.

She shook her head in astonishment. “I'm not sure who that is more insulting toward, me or you,” she said.

“I'm sorry, Abby, it's just that I've been here before. I've been with women who think sex is more, and I know the signs.”

Now her mouth was gaping at him.

“Need an ego adjustment, Reece? I have a lot going on, and yes, I don't want you selling to Keller, but I've accepted that you might. I've known from the start what we have…had…was temporary. Don't think I am hanging my future on you. My future is over there.” She pointed out the window to her winery, and he saw her hand tremble. She was clearly furious, and she was right.

“I'm sorry, Abby. I just didn't want you getting the idea that I would stay, or that sleeping together means more than it does.”