Holiday Hideout: The Thanksgiving Fix / The Christmas Set-Up / The New Year's Deal

CHAPTER TWO

INVITING THE HANDYMAN TO STAY for a glass of wine hadn’t been part of Beth’s game plan. But Mac McFarland was serious eye candy, a fact she hadn’t been able to ignore, especially after he took off his coat and started to inspect the pipe. Between the faded jeans that showcased his tight buns and a blue chambray shirt that required no padding to emphasize his broad shoulders, he was outfitted like a certified hunk.

His dark, wavy hair brushed the back of his collar in a most attractive way, and his eyes were the kind of startling blue that won guys modeling and movie contracts. On top of all that, he smelled good. From the moment he’d come through the door, she’d breathed in a heady combination of pine boughs and wood smoke.

Even though she was concentrating on the joys of singlehood this weekend, that didn’t mean she couldn’t invite a guy for a drink.

She wasn’t exactly dressed for company, though. It was too late to apply makeup, but at least she’d spritzed a little of her favorite spice body mist on after her bath.

Maybe she’d share a drink with Mac and then he’d go on about his business. But if not, and his arresting blue eyes continued to fascinate her, she might try out the new ground rules she’d devised for her sex life and see what his reaction might be. Assuming he was interested in her and didn’t have some sweetie in the wings, that was.

Once he’d joined her on the couch, she picked up her wineglass and searched for an icebreaker.

He took a sip of the wine. “Good stuff. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So…did you decide in kindergarten that you wanted to be a handyman and that was the end of that?”

He laughed. “No, I wanted to be a superhero, but sadly my superpowers never developed, so I had to settle for household maintenance instead.”

She could imagine him in spandex and a rippling cape. He had the classic square-jawed superhero look about him. “I’ll bet your customers think you’re heroic. A good maintenance man is hard to find.” As she knew from her experience as a hotel manager.

“That, as a matter of fact, is true. Just about anyone can hang out a shingle. But I learned from an expert—my dad. I worked for him all through high school and college.” He reached for a cracker and put a piece of cheese on top of it.

“But now you don’t.”

“Nope. I developed an independent streak. But at least by working on this side of the mountain, I’m not in direct competition with him.” He popped the cheese and cracker into his mouth and began to chew.

“So he’s in Reno?”

He finished chewing and swallowed. “My folks live there.” He picked up his wineglass and gestured in her direction. “Your turn.”

“I manage the High Sierras Hotel.”

He nodded. “I can see you doing that.”

“You can?” She glanced down at her sweats. “I don’t look much like a hotel manager at the moment.”

“No, but you act like someone who makes plans and carries them out, which would make for a good manager.”

She gazed at him, intrigued. “How can you tell?”

“The fire, the wine, whatever you were writing when I got here. That looked like part of a plan to me.”

“It was.” She was impressed that he was so observant and wondered what he’d think of the manifesto she was creating.

But she didn’t know him well enough to talk about it, at least not yet. When she didn’t offer to tell him her purpose in coming here, he didn’t ask. She took that as a promising sign that he respected boundaries.

He swallowed another sip of his wine. “I’d think this would be a busy week for you at the hotel.”

“It is, but my assistant is excellent and he has my cell number in case anything unexpected crops up. I can get back there fairly fast if necessary.”

Mac glanced out the window where snow continued to come down. “Or not.”

“Or not.” She smiled. “To tell the truth, I wouldn’t mind being snowed in. I’m a bit of a workaholic, and a heavy snow would force me to stay away from the hotel for the whole weekend.” She swirled her wine in the glass. “I love my work, but I have a tendency to obsess over it.”

“At least you have an assistant.” He helped himself to another cracker and piece of cheese. “I’m the whole show, and sometimes that means working 24/7. Well, not quite, but it can feel that way.”

“So why don’t you have an assistant?” She had an idea of the answer, but was curious as to whether she was right.

“Damned if I know. I should hire one, but…”

“A good maintenance man is hard to find?”

“I just think I can do the job better than anyone else. I have a bit of an ego, I guess.” He grinned at her.

Her heart rate picked up. That smile of his was killer. “So I’m lucky that you’re not rushing off to repair someone’s broken pipes or faulty light fixture tonight.”

“It could still happen. I’ve notified all my customers that I’ll be in Reno tomorrow at my folks’ house for Thanksgiving dinner, but I’ll be here until morning, and my people know that.” There was a note of pride in his voice.

She thought of his childhood ambition of becoming a superhero. He hadn’t strayed all that far from his dream, after all. “Which is why Jillian Vickers called you.”

He nodded and swallowed a mouthful of wine. “About that.” He glanced over at her. “You should probably know that Jillian loosened that fitting on purpose.”

Beth stared at him. “On purpose? But why would she… Oh, my God.” She started to laugh. “Oh, my God.” She put her wineglass on the end table so she wouldn’t spill on the couch, a real danger because she was shaking with laughter. “That’s hysterical!”

“Care to tell me why?” He sounded a little miffed.

“Because…” She gasped for breath and realized her hilarity might have offended him. “I’m sorry. It’s not hysterical that she’d try to fix me up with you. You’re gorgeous.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say—”

“It’s just that the reason I stayed away from my family’s Thanksgiving celebration in Sacramento is because I knew they’d have a blind date for me there. Then Jillian pulls this trick.” She threw both hands in the air. “I can’t get away from people trying to find me a man!”

He frowned. “And you prefer women?”

“Heavens, no!” She suppressed another fit of giggles. “I like men just fine. But I’m sick of my family trying to marry me off, which is what these blind dates are all about. My three siblings are married, and I, the eldest, am not. Apparently that bugs them.” She wiped her eyes and gazed at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“No need to apologize. Actually, we’re in the same boat.”

She cleared her throat. “How’s that?”

“My mom is determined to find me a wife. In fact, she’s invited someone named Stephanie to dinner tomorrow.”

“Oh, dear. I know exactly how awkward that can be. You have my sympathies. And on top of that, Jillian’s trying to play matchmaker.” She looked at him. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I mean, first I’m dumped on you, and then tomorrow you’ll be dealing with Stephanie. I’ll bet you’d rather spend the night on your own.”

“Actually, it’s comforting to be with somebody who’s stuck with the same problem.” He polished off his wine.

“In that case, would you like a refill?”

“Sounds good.”

“All right, then.” She stood. “Be right back.”

“Do you mind if I stoke up the fire while you do that?”

She paused for a moment to absorb the fact that he’d asked instead of assuming that, as the guy, he had dominion over the fire. Interesting. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

As she walked back into the living room with the wine bottle, she admired how good he looked tending the fire. She’d never dated a handyman before, and the idea of being with someone who was good with tools had an erotic component that she liked. Still, she couldn’t lose sight of the fact this was a fix-up, and this weekend was supposed to be about putting an end to those.

It helped that he was tired of being fixed up, too, and after all, he’d been inconvenienced by Jillian’s meddling. She glanced at the nearly empty cheese-and-crackers plate, and her natural tendency to be hospitable kicked in. He was a big guy, and big guys usually had appetites to match.

She refilled his wineglass. “I have a large frozen pizza I was going to cook for dinner. Want to share it with me?”

He looked up, fire tongs in one hand. “I hate to eat your stash of food.”

“Don’t worry. I brought plenty. I’m planning a single girl’s version of Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow— Cornish game hen, sweet potatoes and some other veggies. I’ll have leftovers to take me through the rest of the weekend.”

After positioning another log on the fire, he replaced the screen and stood. “Pizza sounds great.”

She set the wine bottle on the end table next to his glass. “Then I’ll go pop it in the oven.”

Mac followed her into the small kitchen area. “Matter of fact, your whole plan sounds great. I envy you having the guts to tell your family you weren’t going to play their silly game.”

“If I can’t do it now that I’m thirty, when can I?” She opened the freezer, took out the boxed pizza and opened it.

“You’re a very young-looking thirty, Beth.”

“You didn’t have to say that, but thanks.” She appreciated a man who knew how to give a well-placed compliment. She’d decided not to be paranoid about being thirty, but it didn’t hurt to have someone claim she didn’t look it.

“I’m thirty-one, and I haven’t been that bold. Then again, my mom keeps reminding me I’m the ‘hope of the McFarlands.’”

She turned to him. “You’re what?”

He leaned against the counter—six feet and a couple of inches of heart-stopping masculinity. He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, which stretched the material over his package. “If my father’s line is to be continued, I’m the only one to do it.”

A sudden image of how he would do it crossed her mind, and she resisted the urge to fan herself. “You’re an only child?”

“I have a younger sister, but in my father’s world-view, the son is the only one who can carry on the family name. According to my mother, my dad lives for the thought of me fathering a son.”

“I see.” She wondered if he had any idea how sexy he looked standing there talking about doing his familial duty. “Sounds sort of medieval.”

“I absolutely agree. And I’ve said that, but it doesn’t seem to make any impression.”

“At least I don’t have that kind of pressure. My two brothers and my sister are providing the next generation of Tierneys.” She ripped the plastic off the pizza. “Do you happen to know if there’s a pizza pan anywhere?”

“There should be.” He started opening doors. “I seem to remember seeing one when Jillian unloaded cabinets so I could refinish them. Yeah, here it is.” He pulled a large flat pan from a bottom cupboard.

She took the pan from him and deposited the frozen pizza on it. “You refinished the cabinets?”

“Last year. They needed it.”

Gazing around, she had new appreciation for the honey glow of the oak. “Nice job.”

“That’s the kind of work I like the most, the kind where you can see a difference after you’re finished. Wiring and plumbing are sort of fun, but they’re not as creative.”

In her preoccupation with Mac, she’d forgotten to turn on the oven, so she did that. The pizza had to thaw a little bit, anyway. “So you enjoy your work.”

“I love it. Maintaining vacation homes around the lake is my idea of paradise. I set my own schedule and the views are amazing. Sometimes I’m crazy busy, but when there’s a lull, I go camping and chill out.”

“And you’re happy.”

“Hell, yeah, I’m happy.”

“You don’t feel that you need a woman to complete the picture?”

He scrutinized her. “Is that a trick question?”

“No, it’s a serious question.”

“You mean, do I think I have to get married to be happy?”

“Right.”

“The answer is no, I don’t.”

“Hallelujah!” She punched her fist in the air. “I knew I wasn’t the only oddball out there!”

“I take it you don’t have the need to rush to the altar, either?”

“Definitely not. Hotel management is demanding, which is fine, because as a single person I can devote myself to it. But if I had to work around a husband’s expectations, I’d feel torn.”

“Depends upon the expectations.”

She gazed at him and realized she’d never felt free to discuss this with a man before. “I work very weird hours sometimes, and I couldn’t be counted on to cook and clean, let alone take care of a baby.”

“I hate to think that’s the current definition of what a wife does. I’d like to believe we’ve made some progress.”

“There are guys who would do those jobs, or would be happy to hire a cleaning lady and a nanny, and eat out a lot. But they’d still expect my attention some of the time.”

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s fair to say.”

“I just don’t know if I have that time—not to mention the energy—to give the proper amount of attention to a partner.”

He studied her. “You would if it mattered enough.”

“Then maybe it doesn’t.”

“Does your family get that?”

She shook her head. “My family is into marriage. That comes before everything else, as if a person must be coupled up to have a fulfilling life. I just don’t believe that.”

“For that matter, neither do I.”

“Then let’s get this pizza in the oven so we can sit by the fire and drink to that.” Beth slipped the pizza pan into the hot oven, set the timer and walked back into the living room where Mac was filling both their wineglasses. She felt euphoric. She’d found a man who agreed that marriage wasn’t the be-all and end-all of existence.

She picked up her glass from the end table and touched it to his. “To being single and loving it.”

He looked into her eyes. “To making our own choices.”

“Exactly. Down with blind dates.” Then she remembered he still had one to deal with and made a face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He glanced out the window. “Something tells me the weather is going to keep me from making it to Reno tomorrow to meet Stephanie, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Well, not really. I have new snow tires and I’ll bet I could make it if I wanted to, but I don’t. My mom said she couldn’t uninvite Stephanie, so I’ve decided I just won’t be there. The roads are going to be too dangerous. I’m sure of it.”

Beth had a moment of misgiving. “I’m probably a bad influence.”

“No, you’re a good influence.” He lifted his glass in her direction. “Thanks, Beth.”

“You’re welcome.” She sipped her wine and tried to ignore the guilt whispering through her mind. What if Stephanie was perfect for him? His mother knew him well and she might have found his ideal mate.

Once they were settled on the couch, she turned to him. “Have you liked any of the women your parents have fixed you up with?”

“I’ve liked most of them. But that doesn’t mean any of them was someone I envisioned spending my life with.”

“Yeah, same here with the men my folks have brought around.”

“To start with, there has to be plenty of chemistry. You know, a certain zing.”

“Right.” She wondered if anything was zinging for him when he looked at her. She was experiencing some serious zing regarding him. But if he didn’t go to Reno, he might miss out on a fabulous meal. “Is your mom a good cook?”

“Do bears live in the woods?” He grinned as he relaxed against the cushions with his wineglass cupped in one large hand. “Yeah, she’s great.”

“So she’s a wonderful cook, which means you would be able to enjoy a feast tomorrow.”

“Granted, I’d be well fed, but I’d pay for it. Believe me, turkey with all the trimmings doesn’t taste nearly as good when you’re expected to entertain someone you’ve never met who has been carefully selected as a potential fiancée.”

Beth sighed. “I know. Believe me, I know.” She hesitated. She was only a mediocre cook at best, but what the hell. “You could come over and share my Cornish game hen, although I warn you, it won’t be anything like a full Thanksgiving dinner, and I’m no gourmet chef.”

His eyes lit up, but then he shook his head. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans. You probably had it figured out so you wouldn’t have to go shopping while you were here. I can’t believe you have enough to feed me, too. I eat a lot.”

“So what if we do use up what I have? It’s not as if we’re that far from civilization.” She gestured out the window. “Down the road a bit are a whole bunch of hotels and casinos. If those snow tires work as well as you say, you can always buy me dinner if the provisions give out here.”

“I could do that.”

She realized then what she’d said and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Wait. I’m sounding pushy. I wasn’t implying that you would stick around that long, and I certainly didn’t mean to suggest you had to invite me out.” Way to go, Tierney.

“Easy, Beth.” He smiled. “You’re not being the least bit pushy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I am worried about that. First I talk you into abandoning your mother’s turkey-day feast, and then I invite myself on a dinner date. I may be in management, but I swear I’m not a bossy person.”

“You didn’t talk me into anything. You inspired me to take my destiny into my own hands for a change. If I accept your invitation for Cornish game hen, then I’ll damn well be sure to return the favor with a dinner at a restaurant later on. For that matter, we could eat out tomorrow, if you want. The casino restaurants will be open.”

She gazed at him. “No, I think we should cook our own version of Thanksgiving dinner right here, as part of our new declaration of independence from family meddling. We’ll count all our blessings for the life we have, not the one everyone else thinks we should have.” She took a deep breath. “That is, if you want to.”

“I do. It’s a great idea.”

“I like it, too.”

And she liked him. So far, she liked him better than any man she’d met in a long time. If she were in the market for a serious relationship… But she wasn’t. That was the whole point.

She probably felt more free and at ease with Mac because she’d decided that marriage wasn’t for her. No pressure. They could discuss this issue without it being a loaded topic. “Have you ever come close to getting married?”

Mac sipped his wine and stared at the flames licking at the dry wood. “A couple of times, but then other things weren’t right about the relationship. In one case she was determined to make it on Broadway, and neither of us wanted to change our lives to accommodate the other one.”

“How about the second person?”

“She was a lot of fun, but not quite what you’d call mature. Eventually I got tired of being the only grown-up in the relationship.” He sighed. “Marriage is a big deal and I’d want to get it right. I guess maybe I’m too picky.”

“That’s what my family says about me, too.” From the corner of her eye she could see that he was looking at her instead of the fire, so she turned to face him. “But how can you not be picky when the stakes are so high?”

“That’s what I think, too. But how about you? Ever come close?”

“I’ve had two different guys propose.”

“That’s pretty damn close. I mean, usually a guy won’t ask unless he thinks you’re likely to say yes.”

Beth groaned. “I know, and I felt awful each time because I turned them down.”

“So I figured.”

“But I swear, Mac, neither of them listened when I said how much I love my job and how it monopolizes my life. One of them suggested that because I love the hospitality industry I’d make a great hostess when he had to entertain out-of-town clients. He expected me to cut back to part-time so I’d be free to do that.”

“Marriage shouldn’t be about giving up things you love to do.”

“No.”

“But there’s…” He paused to clear his throat. “There’s one small problem with the concept of a happy single life.”

“What’s that?”

He took another drink of his wine. “How does sex fit into the plan?” He glanced over at her. “Or are you saying you’re willing to give that up?”

“I’d rather not.” When she met his gaze, she felt that zing again. It scooted through her body and ignited various significant parts of it. Unless she was mistaken, the feeling was mutual.

“I don’t want to give it up, either.” After another charged moment, he broke eye contact and stared into the fire, as if realizing they might each need a moment to decide where to go from here.

Maybe she should drop the subject, which was becoming quite personal. But she found she couldn’t let it go. This was a question she’d wrestled with and never had the chance to discuss with a guy, especially a virile one like Mac. “I mean, we’re both pretty young to be celibate.”

“I know, but I’m not crazy about one-night stands, and deciding to go beyond that implies a certain level of commitment, doesn’t it?” He looked over at her, his gaze reflecting his uncertainty.

She swallowed. This discussion was heating up faster than the blaze in the fireplace. “Yes, I suppose, but the commitment can be limited.”

“Can it, really? In my experience, the more you have sex with someone, the more they start thinking of making the relationship permanent.”

“I wouldn’t.” Now, how had that popped out? She took a deep breath. “Speaking hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course.” He studied the fire some more, and drummed his fingers softly against his knee.

She hoped he hadn’t thought she was propositioning him with her remark. She hadn’t been, but if she tried to explain, it would be even more awkward.

As she tried to figure out how to reestablish the casual mood they’d enjoyed before they’d started discussing sex, he put his wineglass on the end table and stood.

“Listen, before I drink more wine or the roads get any worse, I need to make a quick trip to my cabin.”