One Winter's Night: The Twelve Dates of Christmas / Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss / A Cadence Creek Christmas

The sound was so final that her heart beat out a fearful tattoo. What had she done? By not going to this dinner party with him, she was proving he didn’t need her anymore. He could go alone.

She groaned. She needed the job going out with him could provide. She needed his connections. And now she was throwing it all away because she’d worn the wrong dress?

She leaned back on the seat. That wasn’t it. His not telling her about the party was a symptom of the bigger thing he wouldn’t tell her. His tragedy.

He’d called her a friend.

But he didn’t share his secrets.

And she liked him.

But most days he was only nice to her because he had to be. And he hadn’t cared when she’d told him her secrets.

Yet she liked him.

A lot.

Felt some kind of soul connection that he obviously didn’t feel.

That was the real humiliation. Longing for something that he didn’t see.

The limo door suddenly opened. Ricky slid inside.

She sat up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home. I called Binnie and explained you weren’t feeling well and bowed out.”

“What?”

“I bowed out.” He studied her face. “I can see something’s really wrong.”

And he cared?

She sniffed. Hope tried to nudge in, but she reminded herself of the truth and quashed it. If he didn’t care that her husband had died and her parents had disowned her, he certainly wouldn’t want to know that she felt left out, rejected, because he wouldn’t confide in her. And she absolutely wouldn’t tell him that she was falling for him. That would be the ultimate humiliation.

Wiping her eyes, she stuck with the convenient. “It’s pretty bad to be the only woman in a gown at a dinner party. It would make me look stupid...clueless about social conventions.”

He winced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.”

Norman started the car and pulled out into the street.

Ricky settled back on the seat. “It feels weird to be going home.”

It didn’t to her. The sooner she got away from him, the sooner she could cry, call herself every kind of fool and splurge by drinking one of the precious cups of hot cocoa she’d squirreled away for nights like this.

“I mean, I’m dressed and you’re dressed.” He turned and caught her gaze. He smiled slightly. “Seems like a waste.”

“I can wear this dress tomorrow.” She glanced out the window, then faced him again. The crying might have been her fault. Might have been an overreaction. Might have made her look even more foolish than she already did to him. But forgetting to tell her how to dress? That was his fault. “Unless we’re going to a dinner party tomorrow.”

“I’ll check the invitation when I get home and call you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He cleared his throat. “I still don’t think we should just go home.”

“The deal was twelve parties.”

“I know. But missing one is sort of reneging on the deal.” He glanced at her. “If you enjoy them.”

She picked at her cape. “Sometimes I do.” When he was himself. A normal guy. Which, lately, wasn’t often.

“At least let me buy you dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

But even as she said the words her stomach growled.

“I think you are hungry.”

“Stop feeling sorry for me!” The shout was out before she could stop it. “For Pete’s sake! You hate people feeling sorry for you, so you should damn well understand I hate people feeling sorry for me!”

He grimaced. “Got it.”

Shame filled her again. She didn’t know why she was so emotional tonight, but she was. And she needed to get away from him.

She turned to the window and looked out at the city decorated for the holidays, the festive lights that seemed to be mocking her.

“So if you could go anywhere you wanted to tonight, where would it be?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“I always try to make up for my mistakes.”

So now she was a mistake? “Terrific.”

“Where would you want to go...if you could go anywhere you wanted?”

She was halfway tempted to tell him Paris just to shut him up. But what if he actually took her there? She wasn’t risking that. Imagine how much she could embarrass herself across the pond? No, thanks. Enough New Yorkers thought she was a sad girl with puppy dog eyes. She didn’t need to add Europeans to the list.

She scoured her brain for somewhere reasonable to tell him but somewhere he’d nonetheless refuse.

When it came to her, she smiled.

“What I’d really like is a carriage ride in Central Park.”

He sniffed. “It’s raining.”