“I don’t remember reading that in the press coverage afterward.”
“My mother told the police, but she kept it private from the media because my father had never wanted her to share it. He had a difficult childhood, and he had—to use Mom’s words—a lot of demons.” She remembered her mother holding her phone for days afterward, never setting it down in case he called. “She was terrified he was having a dark episode and might do harm to himself because disappearing and stealing were so out of character.”
She stared down at where Gavin’s fingers rested on hers. Where her hand lay on his knee. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much of a burden it had been keeping her love for her father—love that even his criminal actions couldn’t fully erase—a secret. As if it was wrong to care for someone who’d made a bad choice.
“I’m sorry you and your mother went through that.” Gavin’s green eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t look away.
“It was a long time ago,” she said aloud. She had grown up since then. Changed. Matured.
She wasn’t a girl with a crush on Gavin any longer.
Although, under the canopy of white lights in this quiet spot behind the ice rink, she found it difficult to remember that.
“Was it? Because I remember it like it was yesterday.” He shifted his arm behind her, wrapping it lightly around her shoulders. Stroking her hair where it lay against her back. “Especially the part where I kissed you.”
Chapter Six
Gavin had warned himself to take things slow. He’d spent the day on the slopes, mentally walking through his approach with Rachel while he shredded moguls and worked on some jumps. But even after all the pep talks about giving her space and time, he found himself reeling her closer while he stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
“The kiss was the only nice part of the day,” she admitted. “Such a shame you regretted it.”
“Not even for a second did I regret the kiss.” He’d spent plenty of time wondering if it truly had been as electric as in his memories. He let go of her hand to sketch a touch along her cheek. “Only the timing.”
He couldn’t wait to kiss her again. Not when she mesmerized him this way right now. Tipping her chin, he leaned closer.
“It’s Gavin Blake!” a kid shouted from a few feet away before he half-stumbled into him, thrusting a warped piece of paper in between Gavin and Rachel. “Can I have your autograph?”
Rachel eased away from him while Gavin tried to get his bearings. Three boys in those awkward middle school years stood in front of him. The redhead with the paper—a brochure from Whiteface Mountain where Gavin had been skiing today—was still all kid, while his friends were in various stages of growth spurt, ankles and wrists hanging out of their winter gear.
“Sure.” Gavin blinked away the fog of attraction from a kiss that wasn’t happening. He wasn’t asked for an autograph every day, especially outside of competitions, so he appreciated the nod from a local fan. “You have a pen?”
The kid’s face blanked, as if Gavin had asked him to drive a car or something. “A pen?”
Behind him, his buddies laughed and provided no help.
“I have one,” Rachel announced, lifting a dark leather handbag from the ground near her hot chocolate cup. She dug around the purse and withdrew a felt tip. “Here you go.”
Gavin talked to the kids long enough to get their names and signed the brochure for TJ, a chewed-up neon hockey puck for the tallest kid they called Chip, and a hall pass of Joey’s, the only other paper they had between them. The pack of boys ran off as fast as they’d appeared, shoving, tackling, and hollering all at the same time.
Passing Rachel’s pen back to her, he tossed away her empty cocoa cup. “Sorry about that.”
“I think it’s great you have fans.” She rose to her feet, shouldering the strap of her bag. “Should we keep walking?”
What he really wanted was that kiss.
But he kept that thought on lockdown as he stood, unable to get a read on Rachel.
“Sure. It seems like a good night for a carousel ride.” That would let her see the way things were falling apart around town. Maybe inspire her to dig in here a little longer and help the town find its heart again. But then another thought occurred to him. “Wait a second. Isn’t the bachelorette party tonight?”
“Yes, but I’ve already told Kiersten I wouldn’t be there.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her parka. “After last night, she understands.”
Last night was his fault. He had thought Luke didn’t hold a grudge against Rachel and that it would be simple enough for the people of Yuletide to accept her once Luke welcomed her home again. But apparently Rachel had left his buddy with a wound—a bitterness—deeper than Gavin realized. It seemed strange to Gavin that Luke could forgive him for kissing Rachel, but he couldn’t forgive Rachel. Especially since he’d fallen in love again and was getting married.
“In that case, I’m glad I get to keep you to myself a little longer.” He walked beside her through the lightly snow-covered paths leading to the playground and the holiday-themed merry-go-round. He had his own reasons for wanting her to see it, even if they weren’t nearly as fun as kissing her.
Briefly, the evening grew darker as they left the lights of the skating rink and headed toward the park. In the town square, a choir sang the songs for the tree-lighting, the voices carrying on the wind. The scent of roasted chestnuts and pine were so pervasive on December evenings that he’d forever associate the smells with Yuletide.
Rachel seemed to be doing better with allergies, having taken a puff from her inhaler before their walk tonight.
“How is your training going?” she asked as she matched her stride to his. “Will you have fallen behind by the time you return to your team?”
“I’ll be fine.” He didn’t want to think about the pressures of next week. He’d been pursuing his dream for so long sometimes it felt like snowboarding was the only thing in his life. “I’m glad to get away from it for a week.”
“You’re really serious about starting a business here? If those autograph-seeking boys are any indication, you sure have the fan base and name recognition.” She tipped her head back to stare up at the falling snow.
“Very serious. I just need the right niche to get started. I really like the idea of making Jingle Elf into a snowboarder.” As a teen, he’d been envious of the families who lived on Main Street and were the lifeblood of the Yuletide holiday season with their themed houses and built-in gift shops.
A strolling group of carolers dressed in red tartan sang their way past them.