Christmas Wish Come True: All I Want For Christmas / Dreaming of a White Wedding / Christmas Every Day. Gina Rochelle
but couldn’t stifle a smile at Tyler’s glee.
“You sure can’t cook,” the young boy cracked. He pointed to the charcoal mess in the pan on the counter, falling into a fit of giggles.
“I’m glad you both find my bad luck amusing,” Isabella said, pretending to be hurt.
“While you’ll go home to a lovely Thanksgiving dinner, I’ll be stuck here with a can of soup.”
She regretted the words instantly. They were meant as a joke, but Jordan seemed to pick up on the underlying truth, and Isabella avoided his scrutiny as she helped Tyler to the bathroom.
Minutes later, she busied herself disposing of the blackened turkey, all the while feeling Jordan’s burning stare. She nearly jumped when he finally spoke in a serious tone behind her.
“You know, my nephew won’t accept you staying here with a can of soup. You’ll have to join us now, for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Though Isabella wanted to refuse – wanted to curl up with a bottle of wine and drink to the fact that this day wasn’t meant for her – she knew Jordan was right. Tyler would not enjoy his Thanksgiving knowing his teacher didn’t have a proper meal. Reluctantly, she nodded in agreement. “I’ll bring something,” she offered.
“Not necessary,” Jordan replied. “Just bring yourself.”
Isabella’s heart stuttered at the unexpected gentleness in his words. She allowed herself to study him from beneath her lashes. Good Lord, he was handsome. And I am pathetic. Of course she knew she was simply reacting to the first gorgeous man with a kind word, after being so coldly jilted. And she also knew she should decline Jordan’s invitation, stay home. Her vulnerability was only intensified with the holiday season. The last thing she needed was to put herself out there, on the rebound – especially now. But the happiness on Tyler’s face when Jordan told him he’d invited her stopped her refusal.
“All right, Tyler. I guess you’ll have company for the day.” She smiled at him affectionately. “I’ll just get my coat.”
***
Later that afternoon, Isabella was struggling to get over the awkward nerves of being an impromptu guest in Jordan Butler’s home.
“I designed and built it myself,” Jordan offered as they went on a mini tour of the beautiful residence, located in the foothills of the Rockies.
“I’m impressed.” Isabella smiled. She saw the hesitant pride that glowed in Jordan’s eyes before Tyler took her away to his room to show her all the toys a six-year-old boy could possibly want. Jordan lagged behind, disappearing in the direction of the delicious aroma of roasted turkey and freshly baked apple pie. Tyler ended his tour and he and Isabella returned to the living room, where the young boy quietly showed Isabella a hotel he’d constructed with blocks. Just like the real ones his daddy and Uncle Jordan worked on, he said.
Isabella’s interest was piqued. She had intended to go over her student files last night, particularly Tyler’s, but her briefcase was left in her stranded car. Before she could ask Tyler about his father, Jordan reappeared and ushered them to the oval mahogany table in the spacious dining area. A large turkey with all the trimmings was displayed on a platter in the center of the feast. Isabella’s stomach rumbled as Jordan held her chair out, playing the perfect host.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Her heart did a flip as she sat down, despite her efforts to remain cool. Jordan seated Tyler in the chair to Isabella’s right, then took the seat directly in front of her. He met her gaze from across the table.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, his voice warm and honey smooth.
Heat crawled up Isabella’s neck. She quickly lowered her eyes and murmured, “Beyond starved.”
She tried to push back her embarrassment, and moved her attention to Tyler, who seemed itching to dig in. A short, round woman with salt and pepper hair came bounding through the kitchen door, in a rush.
“I’ve left dessert on the counter to cool, Jordan. You should have everything you need…oh!” She stopped mid-sentence, spotting Isabella. “I’m so sorry,” the woman continued, eyeing her. “I didn’t realize you were having a guest for dinner, dear. Were you going to introduce us?”
“I apologize, Emily. But Tyler has monopolized Miss Stevens’s attention.” Jordan stood, including both women in his polite smile. “Emily Baron, this is…” He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Sorry – I didn’t get your first name.”
His humility was charming. “Isabella.” She stood and extended her hand to Emily. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Emily’s face softened and Isabella thought she looked strangely pleased. She shook Isabella’s hand, saying, “Yes…I recall Tyler mentioning you last night. You’re his teacher – the one Jordan found up on Reindeer Ridge yesterday.”
Before Isabella could respond, Emily continued. “Well, you’re a beauty – but that’s to be expected, with Jordan’s taste. Still, it’s a nice change for him to bring someone home for dinner.” She caught Jordan’s disapproving glance and brushed it aside, asking, “Do you cook, dear?”
Tyler spoke up suddenly. “She can’t cook.” The memory of Isabella’s culinary disaster no doubt drawing the uncharacteristic chuckle from him.
Isabella smiled again, feeling the need to correct Emily’s assumption. “Yes, Jordan rescued me from a snowstorm yesterday. And from the pile of ash that was once my Thanksgiving turkey today. But…I’m here as Tyler’s guest.”
Jordan remained silent through all of this, taking his seat again, facing the smug gleam in the older woman’s eyes. “Emily is a good friend,” he said for Isabella’s benefit. “Let me guess, you won’t be staying for dinner?”
“Of course not, dear,” Emily replied. “You know where I’ll be. But it seems I’m leaving you in good hands.” She winked at Isabella then made her way over to Tyler, bending to kiss him on the cheek. “Make sure your pretty guest has a good time, darling.”
Tyler nodded, fidgeting in his seat, staring at the golden turkey in front of him. Emily moved around the table, giving Jordan’s shoulder a slight squeeze as she walked past him to the front door. When she had gone, Jordan began to carve the bird, hesitating as he read Isabella’s look. “Would you like to say grace, Miss Stevens?”
Always the teacher, Isabella made an effort to include her student. “Tyler, would you like to say what you’re thankful for?” Tyler remained silent, suddenly distant again. Isabella gently pressed on. “Aren’t you thankful for your family, for instance?”
“That’s enough.” Jordan’s low command stifled Isabella’s coaxing. She looked sharply at him, confused. Tyler was still for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible.
Isabella ignored Jordan now, asking softly, “What did you say, Tyler?”
“I’m thankful for Santa,” he said.
Isabella noted the look of relief that shot across Jordan’s handsome features. He even asked, “What was your wish to Santa, Tyler?”
Jordan’s attempt to make up for his terse attitude warmed Isabella. She eagerly waited for Tyler to answer the question that had been on her mind, as well.
“I asked Santa to bring my mommy and daddy home,” Tyler answered. “I’ve been good, so Santa’s magic will work. Miss Stevens said so.” He took a bite of his dinner roll, oblivious to the startled look on Isabella’s face and the ice-cold stare Jordan shot her way.
Realization dawned and a cold dread gripped her. She finally understood why Tyler was staying with Jordan.
And why Jordan had every right to be upset with her now.