Page 1 of Enduring Christmas

CHAPTER ONE

Notanother Christmas like this. Luke Cole leaned his long frame against the hood of his Dodge truck staring out at snow-covered pines and a frozen Smitty's Watering Hole.

"No, Cheyenne. You and Todd can not pick our daughter up on Christmas." The cell phone is his hand groaned in his tight grip. His ex-wife and her husband were trying to encroach on his Christmas...again.

The longer she pleaded with him to understand the importance of his daughter having a healthy relationship with her stepfather the more Luke's blood boiled. Inhaling the crisp mountain air, he blew out a calming breath as he contemplated how he could endure another holiday when there was nothing holly or jolly about his mood. Wait, had Cheyenne just called him selfish?

"You want to play mommy every December," he snapped. "Our daughter deserves a parent three-hundred and sixty-five days a year."

Thanksgivings were hard enough with his parents retired Miami Gardens. Why did Christmas have to show up every flipping year? As soon as the leftover turkey landed in the compost pile, he took on the role of Santa, the not-so cherubic elf, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, and the guy for the fluffy hair from the animated film Frozen. Shiloh was the only reason he even made an effort. His five-year-old had blonde hair in pigtails and was a brown-eyed bundle of energy he loved with all his heart. As a single father, he questioned what was so magical about Christmas when his little girl was the only kid in Endurance without a mother and he was alone?

Luke had lost his wife, Cheyenne, one month before their daughter's first birthday. Not to cancer or a rare medical condition—a tragic accident which would have robbed him of his bride but left him his pride—something he could've eventually forgiven. But instead, Cheyenne had abandoned their family for an IT geek named Todd.Who ran off with a Todd?

"Look," he ground out, "Shiloh is spending Christmas in Endurance, not with a bunch of strangers."

Luke ended the call as his ex- unleashed another string of insults.

"Whatever," he mumbled scrubbing a calloused hand over his beard, sure his prayers would go unanswered four years and running. A faithful wife and a mother for his daughter, that was Luke's Christmas wish.

Glancing up at a darkening sky dressed with bright stars; Luke heard the church bell toll three times. He realized his adulting time grew short. Ivy and Owen Tate would expect him at the cabin when they arrived. The newlyweds had invited his daughter to help their six-year-old son, Cai, decorate their establishment, No Limit Bar and Grill prior to the town's Christmas Eve celebration.

"Christmas," he scoffed. The distinct sound of cracking ice and snow beneath a totally inappropriate car for mountain country intruded in on his thoughts. Luke angled his head, watched as the owner of the citified vehicle pulled so close, he would have trouble opening the driver's door when it came time to leave. He inwardly groaned.

"Dear, Kris Kringle," he sighed, "not now."

Xenobia Yardell's fully electric, small-wheel drive, Nissan Leaf came to an inaudible stop next to his noise-polluting Dodge Ram. Those were her words. She hopped out of the car as if she didn't have a care in the world. The sight of the fourth-grade teacher's springy curls perched in a giant Afro puff atop of her head triggered a rush of blood to detour from his brain to the southern region of his body. Those expressive eyes that she deliberately trained someplace other than his were his favorite shade of chocolate, deep and warm as spiced cider on a winter's morning. A white puffer jacket, red turtleneck sweater, and blue jeans fit her ample curves, but especially her thicker hips. His mouth actually watered.

Her smartphone must have been synced to the car's entertainment system because Luke heard a deep male voice offering to visit. Had she started up with those N2U dates again? Several of the women had fallen under the spell of love online.

Xenobia looked at him, took in his wind-tossed mane, thick beard, Sherpa-lined parka, well-worn denim, Timberland boots...and frowned. Neither of them spoke at first. But Endurance living had trained Luke in the fine art of neighboring. He issued his usual greeting.

"You need another car."

He'd told her a hundred times; the Sierra Nevada winters reduced the hybrid's charging efficiency. The last thing anyone needed this Christmas was to be stuck with the sharp-tongued fourth-grade teacher.

Xenobia pulled shiny new ice skates from the tool chest-sized trunk, before slamming the lid closed. Angling her head up, she looked him square in the eye.

"And, you need a personality, but, I haven't mentioned that in weeks."

Six months ago, they had shared a kiss. The arc of electricity in that first taste had lit up his hardwires brighter than the lights in Rockefeller Plaza. She'd held onto him afterward, her body responding with the type of positive feedback that encouraged a man's pursuit. Not that she said it, but her body screamed: “More, please”. Luke had thought of her reaction often. In fact, he relived it almost every night.

"Actually, it's been days."

This exchange was now typical of their interactions. One of their many arguments had come to an abrupt end with that heart-thudding kiss. Serious business. For the first time since the divorce, Luke had felt genuine excitement for a woman. But since that day, Xenobia acted as if he were the plague. Scowled if Luke even looked in her direction, which confused the heck out of him. She only attempted civility in Shiloh’s presence.

"Who was the guy on the phone?"

Raising the question might be a jerk move, but Luke felt kind of jerky. In a small town, sharing anything beyond air space meant they were unofficially a couple. Endurance, California, with a population of just fewer than fourteen hundred residents, was a close-knit community. An unspoken rule between the men, if anything remotely physical happened between a guy and a girl, they both were off the market.

In response to his question, Xenobia did a thing with her neck, kind of a roll with a chin tuck. The whole process was kind of cute to watch, until she spoke.

"Mind your business, Luke Cole."

"Are you going to start a dust-up every time we see each other?"

"Yep," she said, slipping on waterproof gloves.

She glanced up at him, and for a second her expression softened. The icy chill in the air, heated as did his blood. She denied the attraction. He couldn't.