Marry-Me Christmas (15 page)

His brother.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” Liam said. He picked up a suitcase that had been sitting by his feet. A suitcase? Why? Was he intending to stay a while?

Confusion waged a war in Flynn’s gut. Who had called Liam? Why? And what had made Liam drive all the way up here?

The tension between them ran as thick as syrup. Flynn knew the choice was his. He could step aside, let Liam pass and leave the moment as it was, or he could do something about it.

Liam hoisted the suitcase higher in his grip and moved forward, making the decision for him. Before his younger brother could pass, Flynn reached out and drew Liam into a tight embrace. “Hi, Liam.”

Liam stiffened, then patted Flynn’s back in a gesture meant more for a stranger than a relative. “Hi, Flynn.”

Damn, how he had missed his brother. It didn’t matter if two years or two minutes had passed, whether they were in their twenties or still in elementary school. A fierce love rose in Flynn’s chest, and he held tight for a long moment, his mind whipping back to the beach, to the two of them together against the wind, swearing to always be together. Always.

Flynn clapped his brother hard on the back, then released him. He swept his gaze over Liam, who was thinner than Flynn remembered, but still had the same tall, dark good looks. His hair was curlier, his eyes tended more toward green than blue, but otherwise, the two shared a lot of the same characteristics. “It’s good to see you.”

Really good.

“Yeah. Same to you.” Liam came inside and shut the door behind him, then dropped the suitcase to the floor. Behind them, the caroling continued, segueing into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Liam shuffled from foot to foot, ran a hand through his hair. “Singing, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Some more silence extended between them. If one of them didn’t say something, Flynn knew they never would. There’d been too many phone calls, too many visits, that had been filled with awkward small talk and anguished pauses, and nothing of substance. He cleared his throat. “Listen, Liam, about the last time we saw each other—”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Yeah, I do.” Flynn ran a hand over his face, then met his brother’s gaze. “All I’ve been trying to do is take care of you. But you make it damned hard sometimes.”

Liam shook his head, and a flush of frustration rose in his cheeks. “Flynn, I’m all grown up now. I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but…” Flynn let out a breath.

“There’s no buts. You keep on trying to throw money at me. I don’t want that, Flynn. I want—” Liam cut off his sentence and let out a low curse.

“You want what?” Flynn prompted when Liam didn’t continue. Behind them, the group had moved onto “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

Liam stared at his shoes for a long while, then finally looked up and met Flynn’s gaze. “I want you, big brother. Not your damned money.”

There. It was out. The truth. Liam needed the one thing Flynn had always held back, kept tucked away. His heart. His emotions.

And what good had it done him? Left him alone, estranged from his brother, living one holiday after another without anyone.

Flynn ran a hand along the woodwork, fingers tracing the thick oak. “I was wrong, Liam. I pushed you away….”

“Because I was a reminder of all we went through,” Liam said, finishing the sentence.

“Yeah.” Here he’d thought he’d been controlling his life. Controlling his emotions. When all he’d done was shove them in a closet and ignore them.

Liam’s gaze met his older sibling’s. In that moment, a shared history unfurled between them, a mental
This is Your Life
, that played in an instant, then came around full circle to the two of them, together then, together now. “Yeah, me, too.”

There was no need for words, no need for anything other than that assent. They knew, because they’d been there. Because they shared the same DNA. And heck, because they were guys. Blubbering for hours simply wasn’t the way they handled things.

Flynn reached out, and drew his brother to him again, in an even tighter embrace this time, one that lasted longer, and made up for the last two years. “Merry Christmas, Liam.”

Flynn couldn’t hear his brother’s response, because he was holding him too tight. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to hear the words to know his little brother felt the same.

Because this time, Liam hugged him back.

“Oh, we have another guest!” Betsy exclaimed from behind them. “At Betsy’s Bed and Breakfast—”

“There’s always room for one more,” Flynn finished for her.

Betsy grinned. “Absolutely!”

Flynn picked up his brother’s suitcase. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

Liam gave Flynn a dubious glance, as he watched Betsy hurry forward, her house slippers jingle-jangling, her mouth going nonstop about the town, the Christmas activities planned for the day, the dinner menu, the local call policy. “Is it always like this here?”

“Yep. And that’s the beauty of the place. Hang around for the Christmas carols,” Flynn said. “They’re the best part.”

Liam glanced over at him, eyes wide. Flynn just laughed, and it felt damned good to do so.

S
AM SLIPPED OUT
Betsy’s back door. She’d seen Flynn greet his brother and knew she had done what she wanted to do. She had given Flynn the merry Christmas she had intended.

The wind stung her face as soon as she stepped outside, and at first, she couldn’t understand why the cold hurt so bad, until she realized her cheeks were covered with tears, and winter’s wrath had turned them to ice. She swiped at her face with her glove, then walked the few blocks to the bakery, opting for the peace of the shop, instead of heading to Aunt Ginny’s house.

She let herself inside Joyful Creations, turning on a single light. Then she headed to the case, filled a plate with all the treats she never had time to eat, put on a pot of coffee, and when it was ready, she took her snack out to one of the café tables, as if she were a customer.

She sat down, and for the first time in a long time, enjoyed the fruits of her labor. Outside the window, a soft snow began to fall, a dusting, really, just enough to sparkle for the holiday.

The door opened and Earl poked his head in. “What on earth are you doing, Sam? It’s Christmas.”

She smiled. “I could say the same to you.”

“I’m on my way over to Betsy’s. I’ve got her Christmas gift out here.”

“Out there?” Sam rose out of her chair and peeked through the window. “You bought her a truck?”

“Hell no. I bought her what’s in the back of my truck.” Earl beamed with pride at his thoughtfulness. “A new washer machine.”

“Oh. How romantic.”

“My Betsy is practical. She’s gonna love it. You’ll see.” He adjusted his hat, then gave Sam another disapproving glance. “You aren’t planning on spending your holiday in here, now are you?”

“No. I’m going to my Aunt Ginny’s.”

“Good. You need to do more for yourself. You don’t want to make this place your life, Sam. We need you around this town more than we need a bakery.” He tipped his head toward her to emphasize the point. “If you see Joy today at that fancy retirement place, please give her my best. I sure do miss seeing her ’round here.”

Sam drew in a breath. Flynn was right. It was time to tell the people of this town about Grandma Joy. Everyone in Riverbend cared about her—hadn’t they made that obvious a hundred times over? And they’d cared about her grandmother, and would continue to care—regardless of what had happened, and whether Grandma remembered them or not. “No, Earl. My grandmother doesn’t live in a retirement village. She never did.” Sam paused. “Grandma Joy lives at Heritage Nursing Home, in the Alzheimer’s unit.”

Earl looked at her in shock for a long moment, then he nodded somberly, as if he’d expected to hear that. “I saw her mind going, long time ago. I wondered how long it would be. I’m sorry, Sam. But you made the right decision.” He ambled into the store, and gave her a hug.

Sam’s heart filled, the love of the people of Riverbend bursting in her chest. “Thanks, Earl.” She brushed away a few tears, but this time, they weren’t tears of sorrow, just tears of gratitude for the comfort of others.

“Don’t think nothing of it. Maybe me and Betsy, we’ll head on over there, see her today.”

“She probably won’t remember you.”

Earl waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s okay. Half the time I don’t remember my own name.” He grinned. “And if your grandma doesn’t know me, it won’t bother me none. Why, it’ll be like making a new friend every time I go up there.”

After a final warning not to work all day, Earl wished her a merry Christmas then headed out the door. Sam watched him go, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. Flynn had been right. Sharing the burden suddenly made it a lot easier to bear.

Now if she could only find a way to have it all—a life and carry on her grandmother’s legacy, she’d be all set. Sam sighed, then took Earl’s advice, and turned out the lights.

Flynn paused on Sam’s doorstep, shifting the scratchy gift in his hands to his opposite arm. He rang the bell and waited. What if she wasn’t home? What if she’d gone to her aunt’s house? What if—

But then the door opened and Sam stood on the other side, a roll of wrapping paper in one hand. “Flynn.”

“You’re still here. I thought you might have gone to your aunt’s already.”

She held up the wrapping paper. “Working too much, not enough time to wrap gifts. So, I’m running late. What are you doing here?”

“I came here to say Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Flynn.” A smile crossed her lips. “I think we already had this conversation this morning.”

“It worked pretty well the first time, didn’t it?” He grinned. “This is for you. It’s, ah, not much, because there’s not exactly many shopping options on Christmas Day, and yesterday’s shopping trip was ended prematurely.”

She laid the wrapping paper against the door, then took the wreath from his hands, the smile on her face widening. “A Christmas wreath?”

“I noticed you didn’t have one on your front door. There was this guy selling them on the corner of Main this morning, and when I saw them, I—”

“
You
noticed I didn’t have a wreath?”

“Is that so unusual?”

She hung the wreath on her front door, straightened the red velvet bow, then turned back to him, shutting the door behind her. “For one, you’re a guy. For another, of everyone in town—”

“I had the least Christmas spirit.”

“Well, yeah.” She arched a brow. “Had?”

Flynn crossed to Sam, taking her hands in his. “I changed my mind about the holiday.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Well, it sure wasn’t Betsy’s singing. Or her jingle bell slippers.” He grinned. “It was you.”

“Me? How could I do that?”

He reached up and cupped her jaw, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Thank you for bringing my brother here. When you did that, you showed me what was important. That I had my priorities as backward as a man could get them.”

Confusion warred in her green eyes.

“I wrote my article early this morning, and sent it in to my editor. Turns out one of the guests at Betsy’s had a national broadband connection on his laptop, and we got it to work by sitting in the backyard, freezing our butts off.” He chuckled. “Doesn’t matter. The article is done, and gone. No going back. But I still wanted you to read it. Either way, no matter what happens, I’m not changing a word.”

Her face fell, and she stepped away. “Just be kind, Flynn. That’s all I ask.”

He fished the papers he’d printed that morning on his portable printer out of his pocket and handed them to Sam. “Read it, and then judge, Sam.”

She took the sheaf of pages, then turned away from him, crossing into the living room. She sank onto one of the sofas, flicked on a lamp and began to read.

Flynn already knew the words on the page. It hadn’t been all that hard to recall them from the first draft. His heart had committed those earlier pages to memory, and when he’d sat down to write, the article had poured from him, as easily as water from a faucet.
Visions of sugar plums dance…

Long minutes passed, without Sam saying a word. She read, turning the pages slowly, while Flynn’s breath held, his lungs tight. Finally, she looked up, her green eyes watery.

Damn. Had he written the piece wrong? Had he, despite his best intentions, still ruined everything?

“Flynn. It’s—” she drew in a breath, searching for words “—wonderful.”

He exhaled. “It’s not what my editor wants. Or what my readers expect. It’s not, in fact, at all what I was paid to write. I’ll probably be fired.” He grinned. “So if you’re looking for a little help making cookies…I might need a job on the twenty-sixth.”

“But…why? Why would you do this?”

He crossed to the sofa and sat down beside her. “I realized that my career didn’t matter if it cost me peace of mind. Happiness.” He drew in a breath. “Happiness with you, Sam, because…I love you.”

Her eyes widened. “You love me?”

Flynn felt a goofy grin take over his face, the kind that made his jaw go slack with happiness. “Yes. I do. And I know it sounds crazy because I’ve only known you for a matter of days, but one of those days was spent stuck in a cabin in the woods, so that’s like triple time, because we were alone so much, and—”

She surged forward, the papers on her lap falling to the floor, and kissed him. “Oh, Flynn. I love you, too.”

Joy exploded in his chest. She loved him, too. Holy cow. This was what other men felt when a woman said those words? This was what made them settle down, have kids, buy a house in the suburbs? No wonder.

And what the heck had he been doing all this time, denying himself this? Thinking he was happier alone?

“All my life,” he said, “I’ve controlled my emotions, held them back, because I thought it was easier not to feel, not to open my heart to other people—”

“Because protecting your heart kept it from getting it hurt,” Sam finished. “But in the end, all it did was leave you alone. And unhappy.”

He nodded. He placed a hand against her cheek, seeing so much of himself in her eyes. “You did the same thing.”

“And got the same result.” She worked a smile to her face, but it fell flat. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Flynn.”

Flynn opened his arms, and drew Sam against his chest. “You won’t be, Sam. And neither will I.”

They held each other for a long time, while the snow fell softly outside, and the fire crackled in the fireplace. In all his life, Flynn could have never imagined a Christmas gift as wonderful as this.

Sam drew back, her gaze going over Flynn’s shoulder. “I forgot to turn on the lights for the Christmas tree.” She rose, pulling Flynn up with her, and they crossed to the seven-foot spruce.

Flynn ran a hand down the tree, his touch skipping over the history of Sam’s life contained in the dozens and dozens of ornaments. Someday, he’d know the story behind every one of these. Because he would be with her for next Christmas and the one after that, and they would hang these ornaments together. He could hear her telling him that her grandmother had baked those salt dough gingerbread men, and her Aunt Ginny had made those macramé birds. That she’d bought the cable car on a trip to San Francisco, found the pinecone on a long hike in the woods. The joy in his heart tripled, for the future he could finally see, one with Sam by his side.

“Here,” Sam said, handing him a switch. “You can do it. And don’t forget to make a wish.”

Flynn smiled. “I don’t need to. My wish already came true.” He pressed the button for the lights into Sam’s palm. “You make the wish.”

She closed her eyes, whispered a few words, then pressed the button. The lights came on, illuminating the tree with a burst of tiny white lights. A second later, they began to blink in a synchronized dance. “My favorite moment,” she said. “The first time. It’s like that’s when Christmas really starts.”

“What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you,” she said, grinning, “it might not come true.”

“If you wished for me to marry you,” Flynn replied, swinging Sam back into his arms, “then that’s one wish that’s going to come true, because there’s no way I’m letting you get away, Samantha Barnett.”

Surprise arched her brows again. “You move fast, Flynn MacGregor.”

“There’s another thing you should know about me. When I see something I want, I go after it.”

She smiled, then a moment passed, and the smile fell from her face. “I can’t marry you, Flynn. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“What do you mean, it wouldn’t be fair? We can find a way to make anything work, Sam.”

“Do you want to know what I wished for?” She leaned her head against his chest. Flynn inhaled, catching the scent of sugar cookies. For the rest of his life, he’d associate that scent with Sam. “I wished for a way to have everything I wanted.”

“I’m not enough?” He chuckled.

She looked up at him, sorrow filling her gaze. “I can’t afford to pay for the treatment my grandmother needs, not without expanding Joyful Creations beyond the bounds of Riverbend. To expand, I have to work more hours. And if I’m working more hours, I won’t be much of a wife, or a mother, if we ever have children.”

Children. He hadn’t thought of having kids—had never pictured himself with his own children at all—but now that Sam had said the word, he realized he did want a family.

A big family. A dog. A house. The whole enchilada.

But Sam was right. She couldn’t have a life, and run multiple locations, not in such a demanding field. Hadn’t he seen that when he’d went to live at Mondo’s house? The chef and his wife had never been home, and eventually, called children’s services to give back the foster children they’d taken in. Their best intentions had been undone by a work schedule that didn’t allow for a family. He’d heard the same story over and over again. So many families tried to make it work, but in an industry that required early mornings and late nights, it was almost impossible. Some could work it out, but so many were forced to choose between business and home.

And as for Sam, if she had more than one location, along with the demands that came with those early years of still building her business?