Christmas In Snowflake Canyon

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“I hope I was a good one.”

“The best, according to my father.”

Spence smiled and gestured to the other two people. “Dylan, Genevieve, this is Eden Davis, our executive director, and Mac Scanlan, who just started this week as our program coordinator.”

“What is your role at A Warrior’s Hope?” Genevieve asked, trying to keep things straight in her head.

“I’m the director of the entire recreation center. A Warrior’s Hope is only one part of what we do here.”

“But it was his idea and he’s the fundraising genius behind it.” Charlotte smiled with far more warmth than she had shown Genevieve. Spence aimed that charmer of a grin down at her, and even if she hadn’t seen them together at the airport, she would have easily picked up that the two of them were together.

The once-fat-and-frumpy Charlotte Caine was involved with Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory. She still couldn’t quite believe it.

“It’s become Charlotte’s baby, too. She organizes all the volunteers.”

“What do you think we’ll be doing?” she asked. “I’m really good at filing, correspondence, that kind of thing. And I’ve had a little experience with fundraising for a few charities my family supports.”

“Just for the record, I’m not good at any of those things,” Dylan offered.

Charlotte gave her brother a sly smile. “I’ve got just the project for both of you. Yesterday Sam Delgado, our contractor, and his crew put the finishing touches on several cabins for our guests. The first group to use them will be coming in first thing Monday morning. Before they arrive, we need to decorate the cabins for Christmas. That’s where you two come in.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THIS WAS HIS version of hell.

Yeah, he had spent a combined total of six of the past ten years in the Middle East through his various deployments, four of those in direct combat. He was a trained army ranger, sent in to dangerous hot spots for difficult missions.

He had seen and done things that kept him up nights—and had spent months in rehab, a very special kind of misery.

He would rather go back to living in a tent where the sand seeped into every available crevice, wearing seventy-five pounds of gear in a-hundred-twenty-degree weather without showering for weeks, than endure this torture his wicked sister had planned for him.

He stood in a large storage room in a back corner of the recreation center surrounded by boxes and crates.

“Isn’t there something else I could be doing right now?” he asked, with more than a little desperation.

“I can’t think of a thing,” Charlotte said cheerfully. “We want these cabins to be perfect, a home away from home for these guys—and one woman—while they’re here. We want to make this a perfect holiday.”

He wanted to tell his sister she was wasting her time, but he had already tooted that particular horn enough.

“We’ll do a fabulous job. Don’t worry.” Genevieve beamed with excitement. Why shouldn’t she? This was probably right up her alley. Hang some lights, put up a few ornaments. Nothing so uncomfortable as actually talking to any wounded veterans—present company excluded.

He remembered what she had said earlier—that he made her nervous and it had nothing to do with his physical disfigurements.

He didn’t believe her. Not really. How could he? She was a perfect, pampered little princess and he was scarred and ugly. They were Beauty and the Beast, only this particular beast couldn’t be twinkled back into his old self, the one without missing parts.

“I’m sure you will, Genevieve,” Charlotte was saying. “You have such an instinctive sense of style. When I heard about your little, uh, legal trouble, I knew you would be perfect to help us get the cabins ready for their first guests.”

Genevieve looked surprised and flattered at Charlotte’s words. “I graduated with a degree in interior design,” she said. “Eventually I hope to open my own design firm.”

“Then you really are perfect.”

“I’ll do my best. I saw some really beautiful lights in Paris. They had these little twinkly snowflakes and each one was unique. They were stunning. You don’t have anything like that, do you?”

Charlotte pressed her lips together to keep in the smile he could see forming there. “We didn’t buy our lights in Paris this year,” she said with a dryness he wasn’t sure Gen would catch. “You’ll have to be content with the cheap ones from the big box store.”

“I suppose we can make those work,” she answered.

“You’ll have to, I’m afraid.”

“What about the trees?”

“Also from a big box store. But they’re all prelit, which is a big plus.”

“We’ll make it wonderful. You’ll see. Won’t we, Dylan?”

“Wonderful,” he repeated. Why did he suddenly feel as if he’d been dragged by a couple of high-school cheerleaders to help decorate for a homecoming dance?

He could really use a beer right about now.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” he asked Charlotte, mostly to change the subject from snowflakes and Christmas trees. “Who’s running Sugar Rush while you’re here bossing around the reprobate help?”

Her haughty look rivaled anything Genevieve Beaumont might deliver.

“I have a staff, you know. They’re very qualified to run the place without me.”

“Even at Christmas, the busiest time of year?”

“Even then. I took today and Monday off so I can help Eden and Spence get everything ready for the group coming in next week.”

She glowed whenever she talked about the things she loved: their family, her gourmet candy store in town, A Warrior’s Hope...and Spencer Gregory and his daughter, Peyton.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Spence and Charlotte together. When they were growing up, the man had been one of his closest friends. They had gone on camping trips together, played ball, even double-dated a time or two.

Their lives had taken very different paths in the years since Spence’s mom used to work at Pop’s cafе, Dylan’s to the military and Spence’s to a life of fame and riches—and eventual scandal—in Major League Baseball. Dylan still wasn’t convinced the guy was good enough for his baby sister but it was obvious the two were crazy in love.

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude,” Genevieve said, “but I have to say it. You look completely amazing.”

Charlotte looked startled. “Thank you. Why would that be rude?”

“Just because...you know. How you were before.”

Charlotte had always been amazing, as far as Dylan was concerned. Kind and funny and generous. Trust Genevieve not to be able to see past a few extra pounds.

“I just think it’s fantastic. It must have been so difficult to lose all that weight when you spend all day surrounded by all those empty calories at your store,” she went on. “How did you do it?”

Charlotte looked a little disconcerted by the blunt question. “Willpower, I suppose.” Her gaze flickered to Dylan then back to Gen.

“The truth is, when Dylan almost died last year, I realized how off track my own life had become. While he lay in a hospital bed fighting to survive, I realized my own unhealthy habits were slowly killing me. I had been given the precious gift of life and I was wasting it. Dylan’s challenges had been thrust upon him, but I was choosing mine every day. It was pretty sobering.”

How had this become about him? Dylan shifted, wishing he could still tell his sister to shut up—though even when they were kids, if Pop had heard him, he would have had to scrub dishes at the cafе for a week.

He didn’t like to think about that miserable time when antibiotic-resistant infections had ravaged his system and left him as weak as a baby—and he especially didn’t like Charlotte giving Genevieve one more reason to see him as an object of pity.

He jumped up. “I’m going to start hauling some of these boxes down to the cabins.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Charlotte said. “I can grab a couple of the guys who work at the recreation center to help.”