The Christmas Backup Plan, page 22
Dammit.
“It’s not the same thing. Do you think you can love me, Remington? Even when I’m flying by the seat of my pants and have absolutely no backup plan? Even when I’m impulsive and flighty and love Santa caps on armadillo statues?”
“Aria, all I can offer you is what you see standing right in front of you. I can try, but that’s all I can promise.”
She nodded. She suspected as much. Was he even capable of loving someone the way she ached to be loved? That forever after, complete acceptance, unconditional love kind of relationship.
“I hope you understand.” To his credit he looked stricken.
“Yes, I get it because I don’t know if I can fall in love with someone who can’t embrace me, warts and all, one hundred percent.”
“If—”
“I think it’s best this way,” she braved. “Before we get any more invested than we already are.”
People were two-stepping around them to George Strait’s “Christmas Cookies” and sending them curious glances. They were getting noticed.
“We should dance,” she said, aware that they were drawing too much attention to themselves. This was Olivia and Ben’s night. “Or get off the dance floor.”
“I don’t care who’s watching.”
“I do. That’s one of the many things we differ on. People matter to me, Remington. I like making them happy. I like being happy. I don’t know that you do.”
“Aria, you have no idea how hard I’m trying to be a better person . . . for you.”
That was it. He needed to change for him, not her. “Yes, I do know how hard you’re trying. You stopped cussing in front of me. That tells me a lot about who you are, and I appreciate it. But Remy, I can’t be anyone’s backup plan. I can’t wait around and be a second-best solution until someone better comes along. I need it all. I need someone who can be one hundred percent in.”
“That’s not what’s going on here.” He shook his head.
“Isn’t it? You know I don’t have the qualities you want in a woman. You want someone methodical and dependable. Someone who makes lists and checks them thrice. Someone who cooks meals far in advance and freezes them for future dinners. Someone who measures out ingredients instead of just flinging in whatever looks good.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You want the kind of girl who always has a spare tire in her trunk and puts her faith in planning instead of other people. Sure, there’s sexual attraction and chemistry between us—I can’t deny that. But it’s just not enough for me.”
He wrapped his arms around her again and moved her around the dance floor. But the magic was gone and there was no getting it back.
“Aria,” he said, “I have just one question for you.”
“What’s that,” she whispered, holding herself stiffly in his embrace.
“It’s a big one.”
Her heart knocked. What was he going to ask? “Yes?”
“When I kiss you do you hear humming?”
Aria looked squarely into his face and told him the biggest bald-faced lie she’d ever told. She told it to protect them both.
Hitching in a breath, she said on one long exhale, “No.”
Chapter 21
Uncouple: To release the connecting link between objects or persons.
The tip of her nose turned red when she lied, Remington realized. Mostly, Aria was painfully honest, so he hadn’t noticed the telltale sign before. But her face said it all.
When he kissed her, she heard humming. Looking at her now, he knew it as surely as he knew his own name.
But she wasn’t about to admit it.
Why?
She couldn’t meet his gaze. Eyes gone vacant, she peered off into the distance as the music ended and the DJ took a break. Guests drifted back to the chairs.
“I have to go supervise the cutting and serving of the cake,” she murmured.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her again and kiss her one more time. Kiss her until all she could hear was the legendary humming of her family’s myth.
Remington was not a fanciful man. He didn’t believe in fairy tales. But damned if at this very moment, he was praying it was true—that Aria was his soul mate.
The warrior in him scoffed at that. He was a realist, and fantasies had no place in his world. But the ten-year-old boy who’d lost his mother, the kid who’d spent his nights talking to his missing mom as if she could still hear him, wanted desperately to believe.
“Remington,” she said.
He locked eyes with her, his palms tingling with the urge to touch her.
“Why don’t you go on back to Cupid tonight? It’s six o’clock now. If you leave right away, you can make it home around two a.m.”
“Y-you want me gone?”
She made a face. “I think it’s for the best.”
“How will you get home?”
“Two of the bridesmaids are from Alpine and I can hitch a ride with them tomorrow,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
Boggled, he stared at her. She was sending him on his way? Man, she must be spooked by what was going on between them. Really spooked.
He forced a casual smile and shrugged like he didn’t care. “Don’t I get a piece of wedding cake first?”
“I’ll wrap up a slice to go.”
Wow. Okay, message received. She no longer wanted him around.
“I was teasing,” he said. “I don’t want any cake. It’s too damn sweet.” He almost apologized for saying damn, but to hell with that. He was a grown man. He could curse if he chose.
“Okay,” she said.
“But I’ll stick around and help you clean up after the reception.”
She shook her head. “No need. I can tap Roger and Gary to pitch in. Joel and Jana too.”
“Look at you,” he murmured. “You’ve got yourself a backup plan.”
Her smile was tight. “You have taught me a few things, Remington Lockhart, and I am so grateful for the lessons.”
Yeah, so grateful she was giving him the boot.
Well, he wasn’t a clingy whiner. He got the message loud and clear. Be gone with your bad self.
“I do appreciate all you’ve done for me, but you’re free to go.” She waved a hand like a queen dismissing a peasant.
Olivia bopped over to them, barefoot in her wedding dress after she’d kicked off her high heels so she could fast dance. “Time for the cake,” she said. “Could you get everyone’s attention?”
“On it.” The smile Aria gave her best friend was real, unlike the one she swung back in his direction once Olivia headed for her groom and the cake.
Everything inside Remington wanted to protest. To point out she was scared as hell about her growing feelings for him and shoving him away, but he did not. She was right. There was no reason for him to stick around. He’d served his purpose. She had plenty of other people in her life who could and would help her out.
Why prolong the inevitable? She’d decided that he wasn’t the man for her and it was a smart decision. He couldn’t argue with her conclusion.
Oil and water. That’s how well they mixed.
“I’ve got to go.” She gestured toward the cake.
“I know.” Then before he had time to think it through, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her, not giving a good damn who was watching.
When he released her, she stumbled away from him as fast as she could without even a backward glance.
That was that, he thought. Remington went back to the Merry Cherub, gathered his things, said goodbye to the angels and the Cantrells, and hit the road home to Cupid.
He’d had enough Twilight magic to last him a lifetime.
The next morning, Aria and the two bridesmaids, Jyl and Paula, stuffed themselves into Jyl’s Mini Cooper and headed southwest.
They had a terrific time gossiping about the wedding guests, catching up on each other’s lives, and playing Christmas carpool karaoke.
Anyone on the outside looking in would see three good friends having a fabulous road trip after the wedding of their fourth friend. They’d see fresh-faced, young women, filled with joy and the spirit of Christmas.
What they might not notice, as Aria lounged in the back, wedged in between suitcases, was the sadness in her eyes and a catch in her voice when she sang the sappy Christmas tunes. The car was lively and fun, but she couldn’t help comparing it to the trip up to Twilight with Remington.
“After Christmas,” Jyl said, “we’re hitting the road to Taos for a ski vacation, where we’ll celebrate the New Year.”
“Why don’t you come with us,” Paula invited. “Things are always more fun when you’re there, Aria.”
Once upon a time, she’d be all over that invitation. She wasn’t much of a skier, but who cared? She didn’t mind wearing cute snow clothes, sitting around the lodge, drinking hot toddies, and eyeballing the ski patrol hotties.
But now? She just wanted to go home and lick her wounds.
And see Remington?
God, no! She was staying as far away from him as she could get. Which, considering she worked on the Silver Feather, wouldn’t be easy.
“Please, please, please come with us,” Jyl wheedled. “We’ve rented a chalet on the slopes. You can stay with us for free if money is the issue. You’d only have to pay for the skiing.”
“I can’t.” Aria shook her head. “Vivi has four weddings scheduled in January. There’s too much to do.”
“Wow.” Paula turned around in the passenger seat to give Aria a pouty face. “You sure have changed since college. You used to be the ringleader of our shenanigans, and now you’re—”
“Sedate,” Jyl finished.
Aria shrugged, feeling as if she’d come home from a long journey to find everything the same while she was a different person. “Can’t party forever.”
“That’s not what you said in college.” Jyl changed lanes, zipping past a black Escalade.
Aria couldn’t resist twisting in her seat to see if it was Remington. It wasn’t. Her heart slid to her stomach.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Paula asked.
“What?” Puzzled, Aria shifted to avoid the edge of the suitcase poking against her ribs. “Who?”
“The rugged good-looking dude. What’s his name? Winchester?”
“Remington.”
“Oh yeah, I knew it was a gun name.” Paula giggled. “Either way, he’s smoking hot.”
“You’ve got it bad for him.” Jyl eyed her in the rearview mirror.
“No.” Aria shook her head vigorously. “Not at all. We’re just friends.”
“The kiss he gave you on the dance floor last night looked far from friendly to me.” Jyl buzzed the Mini Cooper past a slow-moving 18-wheeler. The driver was cute. Paula rolled down the window to wave at him, letting in a blast of cold air.
The driver tooted his horn.
Jyl changed lanes to get in front of his truck.
For a few minutes Jyl and the driver played games. Slowing down. Speeding up. Exchanging honks and hot looks.
Aria resisted rolling her eyes at the highway flirtation. Had her friends always been so immature? All they seemed to care about were guys, clothes, and having a good time.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, but c’mon, you had to grow up sometime. They were all twenty-six. Not sweet young ingenues anymore.
It occurred to her then that people had been sending her the same message for the past few years. Urging her to grow up and stop being so shallow and impulsive. Embarrassed to admit she’d spent so much of her time gamboling and cavorting, she covered her head, unable to watch her friends blowing kisses at the truck driver.
“He could be a serial killer for all y’all know,” Aria mumbled.
“Lighten up,” Paula said. “Just because you’re moping over Winchester leaving you behind doesn’t mean you have to rain on our parade.”
“Remington, his name is Remington.”
“Okay, okay, sheesh, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Paula made a face and turned back around.
“Seriously, girl”—Jyl turned her head to give Aria an exasperated look—“you have got it bad for Mr. Firearm.”
“Stop making fun of his name.” Aria snorted.
“See?” Jyl arched her eyebrows. “B. A. D.”
“You know . . .” Paula tapped her chin with an index finger and pursed her lips in a pensive expression. “I don’t ever remember you being so hung up over a guy.”
She hadn’t been.
“In college, you were the love ’em and leave ’em type. What was it they called you on campus?” Jyl furrowed her brow.
“Miss Hit and Run,” Paula supplied.
“No, they didn’t,” Aria denied.
“Oh yes, they did!” Jyl and Paula said in unison.
Okay, maybe in college she hadn’t been the most faithful person in the world, but she led no one on. She made it clear she was just out for a good time, and boy she’d had some wild fun.
But now? That kind of lifestyle no longer interested her.
What interests you?
The answer popped unbidden into her head.
Remington.
He’s what interested her. Remington was a man of depth and substance. A man who’d seen the hard side of the world and lived to tell the tale. A complicated man with integrity and character and a bucketload of scars.
Did she really want to get weighed down by all that?
Aria sighed. If truth be known, that’s exactly why she’d sent him away. The reason she hadn’t encouraged him when he asked about having a relationship with her when they returned home.
He was as solid as a rock and she was flighty as a butterfly.
A butterfly couldn’t change her colors after all. She was who she was, and Remington was who he was, and no matter how much she might be falling in love with him, no matter how good-looking he was or how great they were in bed together or how loudly her head hummed when he kissed her, they simply were not a good match.
“Jingle Bell Rock” came on the satellite radio, and Jyl and Paula burst into spontaneous song. Aria, never one to stay on the sidelines for long, joined in.
Pushing humor and joy into her voice to lighten the heaviness expanding inside her heart.
For the days leading up to Christmas, Remington avoided the big house whenever he knew Aria would be around, which really wasn’t hard.
He had a lot of work to do on his little plot of land on the west side of the Silver Feather, planning his retreat center for vets with PTSD. After his experiences in Twilight, he was more committed than ever to his vision. He’d already spoken with an architect, consulted a lawyer about the business side of things, and visited the loan officer at his bank.
The trip to Twilight and the art class with Aria had helped him take positive steps in the right direction to start dealing with what had happened to him in the Middle East. Aria had changed his outlook on the world and made him more open to continuing this sort of therapy, and he was forever grateful.
He was still healing, for sure, and would be for quite some time, but he had made big strides toward acceptance of his loss and he couldn’t wait to share his knowledge with others. It would take at least two years before the retreat was fully operational, but in the meantime, he’d signed up to train as a volunteer to man a hotline for vets in trouble, and he was learning the ropes.
And when Archer and Ridge had asked him to help on the ranch so the hands could have a long vacation for the holidays with their families, he’d jumped at the chance for something to do. Anything to keep from mooning over Aria.
He saw her at the annual Alzate and Lockhart Christmas Eve party at Ridge and Kaia’s house, because it was unavoidable. But she’d stayed on one side of the room, and he’d staked out the other. She’d oohed and aahed over her nieces and nephews. He’d talked to his brothers about his project.
Everyone asked Kaia when she was going to have that third baby. His sister-in-law rested her hand on her extended belly and said, “When the time is right, it’ll happen.” The answer satisfied no one because there was way too much truth to it.
At that moment, he’d locked eyes with Aria across the room, hoping for any sign they still had a connection, but she’d quickly glanced away. Letting him know in no uncertain terms that she was sticking to her guns. What they’d shared on the road trip had been amazing, but what happened on the road, stayed on the road.
They were over.
He got it. He wasn’t upset.
Not really.
Remington was just—well, for the lack of a better word—sad. He missed her. There. He’d admitted it, if only to himself. He missed her vivacious smile and her sweet original scent. Missed her light, enthusiastic laugh. Missed the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body beneath his palms.
Because their extended family was so big, each person only bought gifts for the children and drew names for the adults.
When Ridge, who was playing Santa, put Remington’s gift in his lap and he saw Aria’s name on the tag, he thought for one crazy minute that she’d got him something special.
His hopes jumped but then his gut clutched, and he thought, I got nothing for her. Followed immediately by another thought, backup gift.
During the holidays he kept two gift-wrapped presents under the seat of his SUV. One for a male, one for a female. He almost hustled out there to get the generic female gift—a bath salts set—but immediately realized how lame that would look, and Aria, with those sharp brown eyes, would see right through him.
“I drew your name.”
“Oh,” he replied, and realized he wasn’t special to her at all.
“Open it,” she urged, still sitting as far across the room from him as she could get.
Family members were watching with interested eyes, and Remington hated the spotlight.
“I’ll open it later,” he mumbled. “Christmas is about the kids.”
Aria forced a smile but said nothing and quickly turned her attention to her sister Ember, who was holding her toddler on her lap, and she kept her distance for the rest of the day.
