Chapter Twenty-Two
Working on the sleigh with Forest was the same as it had been every night before. She came home to a delicious meal in the oven—praise his mama for teaching him how to cook! They were back in the garage, so it was warmer. The overhead light cast a yellow hue on everything. The tools made the same amount of noise, and the wood still gave her splinters if she forgot to put on her gloves.
And yet, everything was different. Forest didn’t tease her about wanting to paint the sleigh robin’s-egg blue—like an Elvis Presley Cadillac. Nor did he sing along when she put on the King’s Christmas album.
It wasn’t just Forest that was different. She felt it too. Instead of looking for reasons to invite him closer, into her personal space where he might steal a kiss, she worked on the other side of the sleigh. He’d taken the sling off each night and done arm circles and controlled movements to help with the muscle stiffness that came from being immobilized. That seemed to be paying off, as he hadn’t lost much of his muscle mass in that arm and shoulder.
Not that she was noticing his shoulders or the muscles.
All right, she was. But what red-blooded woman wouldn’t?
Besides being wary of him because of the whole “beautiful Santa” incident, she was stressed because he wasn’t being himself. All of this together made for one big ball of tension in her chest that she couldn’t seem to loosen.
They pulled out the seat and carried it over to the work bench where she’d laid the fabric he’d ordered. There were many things at the small-town hardware shop—including sheet sets and Dutch ovens. But they didn’t carry quality fabric, so Forest had bought some online. They set the bench down, and she picked up the corner of the red velvet. “This is thick.”
“It needs to be.” He set himself to the task of removing the old bits of fabric that remained. Having his sling off allowed him to do a lot more. The difference was amazing. What she thought would take them several nights might be done tonight. And then the sleigh would be ready to go. And she wouldn’t have a reason to keep him here anymore.
She drew in a breath of courage. “Listen—”
“There’s something—”
They both stopped and then half smiled. Mitzi’s half smile was because the topic she needed to bring up wasn’t a pleasant one. So what was his for? “You go first.” She motioned for him to proceed.
He pressed his lips together. “I think the sleigh will be ready to go tomorrow night.”
She nodded. “Looks like it.”
He kept his head down. “Which means I’ll be able to leave.”
She stared at the top of his head. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t really have a choice—”
“People always have a choice, Forest.” She threw the fabric on the worktable. What she wanted—no, needed—was a man who would fight for her. One who put her first. How could she settle for anything less after what she’d been through?
He shook his head. “I should be home for Christmas.”
“Is that it? Is that all this is—a desire to be with your family for Christmas?” She willed him to look at her—just look so she could see the truth or lie in his eyes.
“I know you don’t like it, but I have to take Snowflake.”
“Is that why you won’t look at me? Because you think I’ll be mad at you? Or are you hiding something from me?”
His head snapped up. “Hiding? What would I be hiding?”
She folded her arms—and yes, she was closing herself off to him and his charms. “Maybe something about Snowflake and Santa?”
He balked. In that one move, he confirmed all her fears. There was another woman.
The air whooshed out of her. “Listen—I couldn’t care less that you have some Santa woman on the side.” The words were pure lies. She cared. She cared so much. Then a new thought struck, and her stomach fell out. “Or maybe I’m the woman on the side.”
“Mitzi—” He reached for her, and she backed away.
“Don’t.”
His arms fell.
She fought tears. The big, ugly kind that made her nose run and fair skin go splotchy. “I don’t think you need me anymore. Just turn the light off when you leave, okay?”
