The Billionaire's Christmas Son - Leslie North Page 0,41

it was a balm, too. Scott popped his head down onto her shoulder, and she breathed in the still-baby scent of him. Rachel knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be a full-blown preschooler, and then a kindergartener, and her son would spend the rest of his life slowly moving away from her. But in this moment, they were close.

Her mother’s voice came up the stairs, distorted by the distance enough for Rachel to ignore the words. The pain in her shoulder spiked up another notch. “I’m going to take something for the pain, which means we’re going to need a ride out of this place,” she said, not caring that her son wouldn’t understand.

She headed back into Jonas’s bedroom. Spotting her suitcases on the other side of the room, she nodded, relieved that not only had the sheriff had the foresight to grab them for her, but that last night, Jonas hadn’t unpacked them while she slept.

Rachel sat down on the side of the bed and put Scott on the floor. He ran up to the suitcases and tugged at one of the luggage tags still attached to a handle while Rachel got her phone from the bedside table.

Annabeth answered on the first ring. “Happy extended holidays,” she joked. “Do you miss me?”

“I do,” admitted Rachel. “And I’m also calling to ask you a favor. A big favor.”

“Yes. I will be your maid of honor,” Annabeth said solemnly.

It almost made her burst into tears. “I don’t need one of those,” Rachel answered, her voice wavering. She swallowed hard and moved to get the bottle of pain medication. Half of one would get her back to Denver. She snapped the pill in her fingers and washed it down with the glass of water left on the nightstand. “What I need is a ride.”

A beat passed. “A ride from where?”

“From the Elk Lodge back to my apartment.” Scott crouched down on the floor and started playing with the zipper on the suitcase. Rachel was going to need help to get them down the stairs, but she didn’t want to think about that. “My mother showed up.”

“Wow. Do I want to know?” She and Annabeth had too much history for her friend not to recognize the importance of the words. “Is she still there?”

“I will tell you all about it on the ride, but yes, she’s still here. And I want to leave. Like yesterday.” She cleared her throat. “But I’ll settle for leaving as soon as you can get here. You could pick me up at the main entrance. I know it’ll take you some time to get here, but—”

“Don’t say another word. I’m on my way.”

17

“I can’t believe you’re letting her do this,” Rachel’s mother hissed, midway through the most excruciating hour of Jonas’s life. Rachel had insisted on leaving the house and waiting for her friend in the lobby. He’d followed her anyway, and so had Rachel’s mother. “That is your son. And you’re letting her get in a car with someone else and drive away?”

Christmas music played softly in the background of the Elk Lodge lobby, soft and gentle, and completely out of place. Why were they still playing it? Jonas made a note to tell the front desk to change the playlist. It wasn’t Christmas anymore. The holiday atmosphere made no sense, particularly now that everything was crashing down around him. Again.

“Mrs. Lincoln.” Thank god for the years of running the resort, which gave him a deep well of patience. “I can’t stop Rachel from leaving the resort if that’s what she wants to do.”

“Well, you should try.” Susan had planted herself in front of the Christmas tree in the lobby. The tree was scheduled to come down after the twelve days of Christmas. Jonas wanted to tear the decorations off. “You have a responsibility to Rachel and Scott. You need to convince her that staying here is her best option.”

“It’s not up to me to determine what her best option is.” He couldn’t try to control this situation. She’d taught him that.

“Don’t be obtuse.” Rachel’s mother scanned the lobby with a hawk-like gaze. “They need you to step up and lead the family. You should already be married, and you know that.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s what’s best for all of us,” Susan insisted. “It’s the truth, and I won’t be persuaded otherwise.”

“I’m not going to pressure Rachel,” he said lightly. “She’ll decide for herself what she wants out of our relationship.”

A flash of rage transformed Susan’s face, her