Have Yourself a Naughty Little Santa by Karin Tabke Page A

words he wanted to say he held inside. His gaze shot past his mother to Kim. “Get your jacket, we’re leaving.”
    Kim hurried to do just that. Quickly, she thanked Leti and the girls for dinner. She gave Ricco’s dad a quick glance and almost blanched. There was no way to deny that he’d fathered the tall, angry man waiting at the door for her. Enrique, a handsome man with an incredible aura of pride swirling around him, was Ricco in thirty years, but he wore the pall of a death mask. His aristocratic face was a series of sunken planes and angles. He was pale and drawn. He looked ill. No, Kim decided, he was past ill. This man was dying. Despite that, he was well dressed and held his head high with pride, even if his dark brown eyes held years of regret in them. He nodded to Kim and smiled. Ricco kissed his mother and sisters, then grabbed Kim by the hand and drew her past the man he refused to acknowledge, and out the door.
    The door closed behind Ricco, and she heard shrill female voices erupt inside the house. Ricco did not hesitate in his step.

Eight
    R ICCO’S LONG, ANGRY STRIDES MADE IT DIFFICULT FOR Kim to keep up. She noticed, though, that instead of heading back to the B&B, they were going in the opposite direction, straight to the heart of town. The air was colder and the wind had picked up, but the atmosphere was clear. The snow had stopped before dinner. She looked up and gasped. The deep purple sky was filled to bursting with stars. They twinkled brightly, and the combination of the stars, the wispy scent of evergreen, and fresh air was exhilarating, despite the angry man who drew her behind him like a sack of dirty laundry.
    “Ricco,” she breathlessly said. “Slow down.”
    Abruptly, he did, and she knocked into his side. Absently he righted her before she fell. He didn’t let go of her hand, and in a sudden, shocking awareness, she realized she didn’t want him to. His warmth and strength, even if he wasn’t aware of his gesture, made her feel wanted. She shook that off, and with it, she pulled her hand away. He scowled down at her as if just realizing he’d been holding her hand but was glad she’d made the break.
    “Sorry,” he mumbled, then began to walk, looking down at her to see if she could keep stride with him.
    “Was that your father?” she softly asked. Kim felt Ricco’s body stiffen beside her even though they had no physical contact. His stride increased in pace. She sped up to keep up.
    And for reasons unknown to her at that moment, Kim said, “I know how it feels.” He slowed and scowled down at her, still not saying a word. Old hurts swelled in her chest, pressing into her heart, a heart she had kept closed to intrusion. Yet she had a need to connect with this man, to let him know he wasn’t the only kid who’d been deserted by a parent. And, she told herself, she was going to be in Evergreen for the next week, and Ricco’s mother was the gateway to her report for a buyout. Who better to get close to than the woman’s only son she doted on?
    Kim hurried to explain. “I gather your father wasn’t around much?”
    Ricco grunted a response.
    “My mother and father were absentee parents too. My grandmother raised me until she died. Then it was a revolving door of nannies.”
    “Do you have siblings?”
    She shook her head. “I call myself the Trust Fund baby. Without the baby, my mother didn’t get the trust fund.”
    Ricco glanced down at her then looked ahead. They were approaching the ice rink. Several couples and small children frolicked on the smooth, shiny ice. Low holiday music piped across the space. A large bonfire burned on the other side, and she could see several people huddled around it.
    Impulsively Kim grabbed Ricco’s hand and said, “C’mon. I’ve never ice-skated! Teach me!”
    He resisted. She pulled him toward the rink. “C’mon, Ricco, teach me.”
    He stood dug into the sidewalk, his dark, stormy face unyielding. Kim smiled and tilted her