The Christmas Blanket: A Second-Chance Holiday Romance Read online

  Copyright (C) 2020 Kandi Steiner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Kandi Steiner

  Edited by Elaine York/Allusion Publishing

  Cover Photography by Perrywinkle Photography

  Cover Design by Kandi Steiner

  Formatting by Elaine York/Allusion Publishing

  Chapter 1: Off the Beaten Path

  Chapter 2: All But Forgotten

  Chapter 3: Can You Hear Me Now?

  Chapter 4: S.O.S.

  Chapter 5: The Things We Keep

  Chapter 6: The Christmas Blanket

  Chapter 7: God’s Favorite Joke

  Chapter 8: Humbug

  Chapter 9: A Little Rum Never Hurt

  Chapter 10: The Why’s and the Why Not’s

  Chapter 11: Hangover

  Chapter 12: See You Never

  Chapter 13: Home is Where the Pie Is

  Chapter 14: Merry Christmas, Baby

  A Note to the Reader

  More from Kandi Steiner

  About the Author

  “I am lost without you. What a hauntingly beautiful thing to say to a person — that whether you are off on another wild adventure or in the familiar quiet comfort of your very own home, you are all the same, enormously lost, whenever you are without them.”

  — Beau Tapin

  “Have a holly, jolly whoamygodshiiiii!”

  I braked as gently as I could, holding onto my wheel for dear life and squinting through the windshield of the rental car I’d picked up from the Burlington airport. Burl Ives continued singing his merry cheer through the car speakers, but I was too busy trying to keep my car on the slick road that was quickly covering with snow to join him.

  “Jesus Christ,” I breathed when the car was steady again, and I slowed even more, practically to a crawl since I’d already been going just twenty miles per hour. But that was how it went when you were driving in the snow in Vermont, and I remembered well how awful it could be and how conditions could change at a moment’s notice.

  Add that to the list of things I did not miss when I moved away.

  My knuckles were white where they held the wheel steady, and I cursed under my breath as the sun set even more, the snow falling quicker as the sky got darker. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find snow in my path once I pulled off the highway and on the backroads that would lead me to my parents’ house in eastern Vermont, but expected or not, I knew the last thirty minutes of my drive would not be fun.

  I tried to relax, blowing out a breath and humming along to the next Christmas song that filled my car. The music, coupled with me being back in Vermont for the first time in four years, had me faintly feeling the Christmas spirit, something I hadn’t had even a hint of since I was a teenager.

  I could already envision the Christmas tree in the corner of my parents’ living room, ornaments my sister and I had made throughout childhood hanging from the limbs. I could smell Mom’s pumpkin pie, and Grandma’s stuffing, and Dad’s pineapple brown sugar ham.

  My stomach growled as a smile spread on my face. Driving through the snow sucked, but soon, I’d be home again.

  There was another pinch in my stomach, one not born of hunger, when I remembered who else would be waiting for me in Wellhaven. Not that he knew I was coming, or would care that I was back, and he certainly wouldn’t want to see me.

  But he’d be there, nonetheless.

  And just that fact was enough to twist my guts.

  I took a right on the old county road a mile from Lake Wellhaven, the lake our little town was built on, knowing it wouldn’t be long now. Just a couple miles, a left, a bumpy old road and a long, worn-out driveway separated me from a hug from my mama.

  And the best thing was that she didn’t even know I was coming.

  Ever since I left Wellhaven four years ago, freshly twenty-four with a dream in my heart and a goodbye kiss on my mama’s cheek, she’d been begging me to come back for a holiday. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter — hell, she told me President’s Day would be just fine, as long as she could see me. But I’d been on an adventure of my own, one that hadn’t made it possible for me to come back home.

  Until now.

  The last four years had taken me all over the world — South Africa, Europe, Asia, Canada, Mexico. Most recently, I’d been on a work visa in New Zealand for the spring and first part of summer, which was fall and winter here, and I’d made it back to the states just in time to surprise my family for Christmas.

  And for the snow to surprise me.

  The negative temperatures and blistering wind outside my rental car were a drastic change from the beautiful, sunny, sixty-to-seventy degrees I’d left behind. I found myself wondering if I should have just spent the holidays there, hiking through the mountains or working on whatever yacht needed an extra crew member.

  But as beautiful and as rich as New Zealand was, it didn’t have my family.

  And I missed my family dearly.

  A thick swallow found my throat as I made the left onto one of the oldest, bumpiest roads in our town, and I slowed the car even more, knowing that one false move on this bad boy when it was snowing would have me in the ditch. It felt like only yesterday that I’d driven on this same road the opposite way, hightailing my ass out of this town and swearing I wouldn’t be back.

  I needed adventure.

  I needed to explore, to travel, to be free of the crushing reality of the small town I’d grown up in.

  I needed to be free of him.

  I shook my head, and the image of pine-green eyes that seemed to haunt me even still, keeping my focus on the road.

  But it didn’t matter.

  Focusing or not, the best damn driver in the northeast or an out-of-stater driving in the snow for the very first time, nothing could have prevented what happened next.

  The front left tire of my car hit a pothole buried under the snow, sending me skidding across the ice. It was getting late, the last of the sun fading, temperatures dropping, and all of that combined with the fresh snow left a slick sheet of ice on that shady part of the road that I just didn’t see.

  I gripped the wheel as best I could, holding it steady, trying to slow down without braking too hard, but the car wouldn’t comply with my will. I cursed myself for not thinking to get an SUV or at least some snow tires, but I hadn’t expected a storm. I was still thinking of what I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve done when the wheels started to slide toward the left side of the road. I knew even when I did it that I involuntarily cranked the wheel too much, but it was too late to correct my mistake.

  The car whipped around, sliding in reverse off the edge of the road and into the snowy ditch.

  I stopped with a quiet thunk of metal against snow, or perhaps metal against the mud I knew was under that snow. I didn’t give myself time to think too much on it, though, before I was gassing it.

  “Come on, come on,” I prayed under my breath as the wheels spun under me. Snow and mud went flying in my rearview mirror, the front wheels trying to find traction but coming up short. Every time it would move a little, hope would surge in my chest, but just as quickly I’d slide backward.

  “Fuck!”

  I let
off the gas, dropping my head back to the headrest and forcing as much of a calming breath as I could in that moment. The snow was coming down even harder now, the wind picking up, and I knew I needed to get out of my car and find some traction for these wheels — fast — or I’d be in trouble.

  I checked the signal on my phone, knowing before I looked that there’d be no service. There never was on this road, or most of the roads out past the little village on the lake. Wellhaven might as well have been the middle of the ocean when it came to cell service.

  Calling my dad wasn’t an option, but I knew if I could just find some wood and stick it under the tires, get some traction… I could be on the road and at my parents in twenty.

  I shrugged on my coat, put on my gloves, and pulled my thick, knitted beanie over my ears. Then, with one final breath and a silent you can do this, I shoved the driver-side door open.

  And instantly, my breath was stolen.

  It didn’t matter how thick my coat or hat or gloves were. It didn’t matter that I’d had the heat blasting inside the car. It didn’t matter that I’d at least been smart enough to put on my good, warm boots before leaving the airport. No amount of clothing could have prepared me for that icy wind.

  I was already shivering when I rounded the back of the car to assess the damage, and when I saw the snow already piling up around the tires, my stomach sank.

  This was not good.

  I used the flashlight on the back of my phone, looking at the ditch and the woods behind it. Surely there would be some piece of scrap wood I could use for traction. I headed in that direction, squinting against the fluffy white flakes falling from the sky. One step, and my boot was covered in snow. A second step, and the snow hit my calf.

  There was no option but to just go through the ditch, but I knew it wasn’t safe to be outside in this weather for too long.

  I steeled a breath, preparing myself to be waist deep in the snow, but before I could take another step, a loud, deep voice called from behind me.

  “Hey! You alright?!”

  The voice was muffled by the wind, and I turned, hopeful, knowing whoever it was could help me. This was the beauty of Small Town America that I missed — there was always someone around to extend a neighborly hand.

  The fear that had been niggling at my belly subsided, and I found my first breath since the car slid off the road.

  I waved my hands in the air. “I need help! My car’s stuck!”

  My savior was just a shadow in the dusk as he approached me, a big bundle of fabric behind the bright light of his flashlight. I climbed my way back to the side of the road, turning off my own flashlight that wasn’t doing much anyway. There was no other car or truck around, so I assumed the man had joined me from the end of the dirt driveway he was walking away from now.

  Oh, thank God, I thought. Just some wood and a quick push and I’ll be on my way. Or maybe this guy’s got a big truck and a tow hitch and he can just pull me out.

  I was already smiling when the man reached me, and I shook my head, thumbing over my shoulder to the car. “Guess these rental cars aren’t made for driving on these roads in the snow, huh?” I joked.

  But when the flashlight lowered and my eyes adjusted, all semblance of humor left me in a whoosh.

  Because the man wasn’t my savior at all.

  He was my ex-husband.

  This can’t be happening.

  Even as I prayed the words in my head, I knew it was. I knew that my ever-reliable bad luck had delivered my ex to me within ten minutes of being back in the town limits. I knew it was none other than River Jensen standing there before me.

  I would know that man anywhere.

  I’d know the line of his jaw — dusted in stubble because he never could grow a beard, and the curve of his nose — broken in ninth grade at a baseball game, and the shape of his torso — lean and narrow at the waist, broad and proud at the shoulders. I’d know the thick brown hair, even hidden under his hat, though it didn’t look as long as I’d remembered. And of course, I’d know those furrowed brows, the deep wrinkle between them, and the earthy green eyes they sheltered, too.

  I’d never forget those eyes.

  Not as long as I lived.

  I was still standing there shocked stupid, trying to convince myself it couldn’t possibly be my ex-husband and the number-one reason I left this town who’d come to save me and get my car out of the ditch when the bastard let out a long, heavy sigh of his own.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  At that, my senses came back to me like the snap of a rubber band.

  I narrowed my eyes with a cross of my arms over my chest. “Well, hello to you, too.”

  River ignored my remark, gesturing to the mess behind me with his big bear paw of a gloved hand. “What the hell kind of car is that to be driving in a blizzard, Eliza?”

  I shivered at the sound of my name in that gruff voice, somehow familiar and yet reminiscent of another life I questioned if I’d even lived at all.

  “And what are you doing driving in a blizzard at all, period?”

  “Excuse me,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest. “Don’t be rude. I just got here.”

  “No shit.”

  I frowned. “I drove here straight from the airport, okay? I thought I’d make it before the sun set. Forgive me if I miscalculated.” I shook my head. “I see you haven’t changed.”

  He ignored my dig, still assessing the car behind me. “Did you also forget to check the weather forecast before booking your flight?”

  “Of course not,” I scoffed, but my cheeks heated from the truth, which was that I hadn’t even considered it. “I’m very capable of driving on these roads in a little snowstorm. I grew up here, in case you forgot.”

  A shadow of something passed over his eyes at those words, but he neglected to answer, shaking his head, instead. “A blizzard isn’t a little snowstorm.”

  As if he’d conjured it, a gust of wind so cold and strong blew through the trees, stinging my face and making my eyes water.

  “Come on, let’s get inside.”

  River was already on his way back up the hill to that driveaway I assumed he’d joined me from, and from his recommendation to get inside, I knew now that I was right.

  But I stood rooted in place.

  “No, thank you.”

  At that, he stopped, turning on the heel of his boot with a cocked brow. “No, thank you?”

  “I’m going to get some wood to put under the back tires and be on my way,” I said firmly, already heading back toward the woods. “If you’d be so kind as to help me, I’d appreciate it. But if you’d rather be on your way, don’t let me stop you.”

  He chuckled, and the sound sent a wave of fury through me.

  “A little wood isn’t going to get that car unstuck,” he said.

  “I’ve used that trick a dozen times before,” I argued back, but somehow I had stopped, facing him again with a popped hip and a watch me attitude.

  “That may be so, but those wheels are already half buried, and so is any scrap of anything you’d find in those woods. It’ll also be wet. And of no use.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the woods, chewing on his observation and hating that he was probably right.

  Another gust of wind whipped through, and I was shivering so hard now I didn’t know if I could stand another minute outside. My feet were numb. My hands, too. My eyes stung from the wind, and my nose was threatening to divorce me if I didn’t get some warm air on it.

  But the alternative was going inside with him.

  I shook my head. “I’ll figure something out.”

  I started making my way toward the ditch, remembering I’d have to climb through it to get to the woods, and that I’d have to ignore my numb, aching feet in the process. I expected River to leave, but instead he let out another deep and heavy sigh, and then he was trudging past me and ripping the back driver-side door open on my little rental car.

  “
Hey!” I said when he heaved out my suitcase, lugging the thing over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Put that back!”

  But he ignored me, his boots leaving fresh prints in the snow as he marched right past me and toward the driveway he’d come out from.

  I stood there, gaping, looking at the car and then at him with my suitcase and back again at least a half-dozen times. The snow was falling harder and harder, the wind unbearable, and as much as it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, I knew I had no choice.

  I let out something between a growl and a scream, though not loud enough that he could hear it, and then I stomped back to the car and leaned in long enough to grab my purse. I slammed the door, hit the lock button, and jogged to catch up to the grumpy man carrying the rest of my things.

  I’ll just get inside, warm up, and call Dad.

  No big deal.

  “You’re insufferable,” I said when I finally caught up to him.

  “Aren’t you glad you left?”

  “If only I’d had the good sense to stay gone.”

  His jaw ticked, but he said nothing, adjusting my bag on his shoulder.

  And we walked the rest of the way to the cabin at the end of the drive in silence.

  I didn’t take the time to marvel at the little A-frame cabin River led us up to — mostly because every part of my body was just about frozen by the time we made it to the front door. Instead, I happily followed him inside when he shoved the door open, every molecule of my being rejoicing at the rush of warm air that greeted us.

  And the very next instant, a pair of paws greeted me, too — landing right on the center of my chest and pushing me back against the door River had just closed.

  I let out a squeak, squinting against the slobbery tongue assaulting my face. It stung against my cold cheeks, and I would have been annoyed or pissed off if River wouldn’t have said the next words he did.

  “That’s enough, Moose,” he said. “Down boy.”

  River didn’t even raise his voice, it was just a low, firm command. But Moose obeyed, just like he always had, and all the shock and displeasure faded in an instant at the sound of his name.