The Secret of Santa

by Liz Isaacson

He reached across the console and took Holly Ann’s hand in his. “It’s so good to see you.”

  She giggled and squeezed his hand. “You’ve said that already. A few times.”

  “Well, I must mean it a few times over,” he said. “I shouldn’t have eaten that extra pecan pie before we left.”

  “I told you it was a mistake,” she said in a falsely chastising tone. “It’ll be fine. Just eat a little bit here. I don’t even think you have to eat. I just wanted you here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You’ve met my dad, but not my sister and her husband, and I don’t know. It feels….”

  Ace bumped over the dirt road, a petite, charming farmhouse coming into view. “Feels like what?” he asked.

  Holly Ann didn’t answer until he’d come to a complete stop next to a truck that had seen a lot of mud in the very recent past. “Ace,” she said, staring at the door.

  “You’re kind of freaking me out,” he admitted with an airy chuckle.

  She turned toward him, and Ace honestly couldn’t handle any more revelations in the cab of this truck. There wasn’t enough air to breathe in here.

  “I’ve never brought a boyfriend to meet my family.”

  Ace searched her face. “I don’t believe that.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t smile back. “Holly Ann, you’re gorgeous. I know you’ve dated. How could you not have brought anyone home to meet your family?”

  “My sister’s on the porch.”

  “Wait, wait.” Ace glanced up to the porch. A woman stood against the pillar, a flowery apron tied around her waist. She had brown hair too, but it wasn’t nearly as long as Holly Ann’s, and she didn’t wear the same type of understated, fashionable clothes that Holly Ann did.

  For example, Bethany Rose wore a pair of jeans that had been rolled at the ankle, a pair of flip flops though it had been raining on and off all day, and a gray T-shirt under the apron.

  He’d never seen Holly Ann wear a T-shirt. Literally, ever, even when he showed up at her house unannounced. Even when she was set to work in a hot kitchen for hours, prepping food for someone else’s party.

  Today, she wore a black, textured pair of slacks that flowed like water when she walked, along with a silky, ivory blouse with at least four strings of colored jewels around her neck that made the plain clothing look like a million bucks.

  Her hair had been curled and fell in loose waves halfway down her back, and Ace wished with everything inside him that he’d somehow found a way to sneak her out of the back of the barn where they’d eaten their Thanksgiving lunch with his family to kiss her.

  If he had, he’d still be there, doing that.

  “Holly Ann,” he said, clearing the image of kissing her from his mind. “Talk to me.”

  She tore her eyes from her sister. “I haven’t brought anyone home to meet them,” she said. “Because no one ever sticks around that long, because I don’t let them. I don’t have long relationships, Ace. I like to move around. It’s the gypsy soul.” She flashed a smile filled with pain that Ace wished he could erase.

  “You like to move around? Or you liked to move around?”

  She turned the sober, serious atmosphere in his truck coy and cute with a single shoulder shrug and the words, “You’re making me want to abandon the gypsy lifestyle, Mister Glover.” The pretty little smile on her face made Ace duck his head, a quick smile touching his mouth too.

  “Come on,” Holly Ann said, opening her door. “My sister is going to have a nervous breakdown if we don’t get out of the truck right now.”

  “All right,” Ace drawled, already back to thinking about kissing her. As long as Holly Ann started thinking about planting herself right next to him, he could eat a thousand Thanksgiving dinners in a single day.

  Holly Ann giggled as she hurried up the steps to hug her sister. The two women stood on the porch and watched Ace mount the steps slower than Holly Ann.

  “Bethany Rose,” she said, linking her arm through her sister’s. “This is Ace Glover, my hot cowboy boyfriend.” She grinned at him with the wattage of the sun, and dang if Ace’s blood didn’t turn to lava.

  “Ace, this is my baby sister, Bethany Rose.”

  “So great to meet you,” Ace said, grinning and shaking her hand. “I understand you have yourself a hot cowboy husband?” He looked from her to Holly Ann, his eyebrows raised.

  Bethany Rose laughed and gestured for them to come into the house. “Yes, come meet Kevin. He needs to be rescued from Daddy, as he is in rare form today.”

  Holly Ann groaned. “You’re kidding. I told him he had to be on his best behavior.”

  “He thinks stories from his time in Vietnam is his best behavior.” Bethany Ann spoke in a dry voice and tossed a sarcastic look over her shoulder.

  “Vietnam?” Ace asked. “He served in the military?”

  “Before he joined the police academy and became a cop,” Holly Ann said.

  “Detective,” her father said, joining the conversation from the mouth of the hall.

  Holly Ann cried out and jumped away from her father, pressing one hand over her heart. “Daddy,” she chastised. “You can’t just sneak up on people.” She glared at him, and then looked at Ace. “He does that a lot.”

  “I do not,” her father said. “Good to see you again, Ace.”

  “Sir.” He touched the brim of his hat and then shook the man’s hand.

  “Is Ace your real name?” her dad asked, cocking his head to the side.

  “Daddy,” Holly Ann warned, and Ace sensed something behind the two-syllable word.

  “What?” he asked. “It’s an innocent question.” His frown was forever embedded between his eyes, probably from the decades of investigating he’d done.

  “No, it means you couldn’t find him in your little database, and you want to know his legal name.” Holly Ann cocked her hip and put one hand on it, clearly challenging him. Ace looked from her to her father, who didn’t deny anything about a database.

  The scent of butter and rising bread filled the air, but he couldn’t be distracted by food right now. Holly Ann’s relationship with her father fascinated him, and he couldn’t decide if they were close or if she simply put up with him because he was her dad.

  Probably the first one. Knowing what he did about her, she’d probably stepped up to help her dad as much as possible after her mother had left. She’d have tried to shelter Bethany Ann from anything disappointing or harmful.

  “My daddy,” Holly Ann said. “Senator Broadbent. Daddy, this is Ace Glover.”

  “I’d like to know more about this database,” Ace said, grinning at her dad. “You sit by me at dinner, Senator.”

  Her dad blinked at him, his eyebrows going up. He clearly wasn’t expecting that reaction from Ace.

  “He did a background check on you, Ace.” Holly Ann turned her cocked head him toward him, plenty of attitude on her face.

  Ace couldn’t help laughing, and he took her into his arms easily. She wasn’t as melty as she usually was, but after only a few seconds, she did trill out a giggle and put her hands around the back of his neck. “Why are you laughing about this?” she asked, grinning at him.

  “A background check on me?” He shook his head. “It’s laughable, that’s why.” He looked past Holly Ann and to her father. “My real name is Andrew Carmichael Glover.”

  “Andrew,” Holly Ann repeated. “That doesn’t really fit, does it?”

  “We all go by other things,” he said. “Do you really think my mother named Ranger Ranger?” He shook his head. “Well, the girls use their real names. It’s only us boys who don’t.”

  “What’s Bear’s name?”

  “Bartholomew.”

  Holly Ann made a face and shook her head. “No, he’s Bear.”

  “And I’m Ace.”

  “Where does that come from?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s a good question.” Senator crowded in closer to him and Holly Ann. “Why don’t y
ou use your real name?”

  “Family tradition, I guess,” Ace said. “For me, I have deadly aim. Even when I was a tiny, little boy, I could hit a target with my daddy’s gun. I could throw a three-point shot when I was eight years old. I’ve hit more holes in one than anyone in town. Felix doesn’t let me play mini-golf anymore.” He grinned at Senator and then Holly Ann. “At some point, my grandmother started calling me Ace, and it stuck. That’s about how it works.”

  “What’s Ranger’s name?”

  “Richard.”

  “So normal. Andrew. Richard.” Holly Ann gazed at him, wonder and…dare he say love? radiating from her face.

  “I was real sorry to hear about your dad,” Senator said. “I knew him, and he was a good man.”

  Ace grew serious, his hunger to talk about his father always just out of sight. It had a funny way of overtaking him at odd times, like when all of his cousins had gotten letters from their dad earlier this year. He’d wanted a letter from his father so badly, and he’d actually been angry that he didn’t have one.

  “I’d love to hear some stories about him,” Ace said. “I really do want you to sit by me at dinner.”

  “Here he is,” Bethany Rose said, leading her husband into the house through the back door. “I found him hiding out in the stable.”

  “I wasn’t hiding out,” her husband said, but he did look relieved to see Ace and Holly Ann there.

  “Kevin, this is Holly Ann’s boyfriend, Ace.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Ace shook the other cowboy’s hand. “Do you run this place alone?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Well, me and Beth. We do the best we can.”

  “How many head do you have?”

  “Only three hundred,” Kevin said. “You?”

  “A lot more than that.” Ace grinned at him. “But we all live and work up there. Ten of us full-time on the ranch. Two more who run our outreach and school programs. Plus seven full-time cowboys that live on-site and work year-round for us. We hire day laborers too, during peak seasons.” Ace realized he might sound like he was bragging. He swallowed and retreated to Holly Ann’s side.

  “I just was saying we can handle more cattle because we have more people. That’s all. Bigger doesn’t mean we’re better.”

  “Shiloh Ridge Ranch is the wealthiest ranch north of San Antonio?” Senator asked, and Ace turned back to him. He read from his phone. “Though now that the Walkers have also landed in Three Rivers, in the Texas Panhandle, about an hour east of Amarillo, the Seven Sons Ranch may give Shiloh Ridge a run for its money. Literally.”

  He looked up, his eyes even wider.

  “You don’t need to keep reading,” Ace said, though he’d never seen anything about Shiloh Ridge. He didn’t do much reading at all, actually.

  “Though it’ll be difficult to catch up to four generations of caring for the land, raising cattle, and investing in local Texas businesses. It’ll take the heart, hard work, and family spirit that makes Shiloh Ridge Ranch really worth its weight in gold. With an annual gross revenue of over one billion dollars, the ranch and all its holdings are estimated to be worth thirty-one billion dollars, while Seven Sons still relies heavily on the personal income of its owners.”

  Ace squeezed Holly Ann’s hand, but she didn’t move or speak.

  “Daddy,” Bethany Rose said, stepping over to her father and taking his phone away from him. “Enough. You’re embarrassing Ace, and we want him to come back.” She opened a drawer in the kitchen and added, “You’re not getting this back until you leave.”

  She surveyed the group. “Now come on. Kevin fried up a perfect turkey and everything else is getting cold.”

  Thankfully, Senator strode into the kitchen, already asking for his phone back. The things that made others uncomfortable didn’t seem to bother him at all.

  Ace cleared his throat and gently pulled his hand away from Holly Ann’s. That thawed her, and she finally turned and met his eye. “Thirty-one billion dollars?”

  “That’s ranch worth,” Ace said quickly, though he had plenty of personal money. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now. It felt inappropriate, just like sneaking out to the barn to kiss her would’ve been.

  “Come eat,” Bethany Rose barked.

  Ace nodded toward the table so Holly Ann would move. “Let’s just add it to the list of things you and I need to talk about.”

  The following day, Ace went out on the ranch in the morning and helped Preacher and Judge feed the horses. He hauled in fresh straw for a row of stalls, and he made sure every equine got fresh water and a new measure of hay.

  He listened to Judge and Preacher go back and forth about the tree lighting ceremony that day in swatches of conversation as they worked in and out of the building. Yesterday’s bad weather had cleared up, and Ace had sent a text to Holly Ann that morning that her prayers must’ve worked, as she’d been anxious about the weather for the lighting event for a week.

  She’d only replied with a smiley face, and he hadn’t engaged again. It was the first big event of the Christmas Festival, which would run all the way through New Year’s Eve with the concluding event being the Light Parade that went until twelve-oh-one next year.

  He was tired already, and yet he’d volunteered to take tickets for the sleigh rides in the park. He’d signed up to sell concessions at the church-sponsored ice skating afternoon in a couple of weeks. He’d even put his name down for clean-up after tonight’s tree lighting and the gingerbread bake-off next weekend.

  Ace normally spent a lot of time volunteering during the Christmas Festival. His workload was lighter in December, January, and February, and he wanted to put his time and energy to a good cause.

  So lost in thought, he didn’t notice that Judge and Preacher had gone quiet. His footsteps stalled as he tilted his head to listen. A silent Judge and Preacher spelled trouble for him, though he knew most of the practical jokes originated with Judge.

  Ace actually liked Preacher when he could get him alone. They had great conversations about their flight simulators and the rotational practices of the grass in the pastures where they fed their cattle.

  Preacher was smart, and while he loved to play video games and have fun, it wasn’t the same type of fun as Judge, who much preferred playing tricks on people.

  Judge helped Cactus a lot over the years, so he wasn’t a heartless man. Of course, if Ace listened to and believed everything Mister said about Judge, one would think so.

  “Preacher?” he called, because he could sometimes be appealed to.

  Ace had told himself many times that not everyone got along, even in the same family. He and Ward reminded each other that it wasn’t their job to take sides between Mister and Judge. They were both glad Mister had come to live with them, and they liked having him around. At the same time, Ace could work well with and talk with Judge too.

  When Preacher didn’t answer, Ace quickly finished up with the last horse in his row and went outside to get in his truck and get out to Cactus’s. They were going down to the tree lighting together, and while they didn’t need to leave for a while, Cactus had promised Ace a good meal and a story about Willa Knowlton.

  Ward would be working at Ranger’s today, updating all the backend systems on Two Cents, as well as pushing out the entire Christmas Festival schedule of events so people in Three Rivers could vote for their most-anticipated activities. They could also leave ratings on every event, and Holly Ann had asked Ranger if she could meet with him to get the data he collected in the app.

  He’d declined, but quickly referred her to Bishop, who was going to be handling all the polls, data, reviews, and more.

  Ace kept his eyes on the ground, as Judge sure did like to set up tripping traps and take videos of his unsuspecting victims. Ace wasn’t going to be one of them today, that was for sure. His thoughts ran away from him, though, because he wished he could be as involved in Two Cents—and Ranger’s life—as Ward and Bishop were.

  He looke
d up, searching for his truck. It was gone. His adrenaline soared, making a white, rushing noise in his ears. Then he roared, “Judge! You get my truck out here right now!” He pulled out his phone and added, “I’m calling the cops and reporting a theft.” He mock tapped on the screen and searched the surrounding area.

  If he had to go traipsing around this ranch to find his truck…either Judge or Preacher would definitely die that night in their sleep.

  “I’m serious,” he called, still trying to find one of them. He cursed himself for leaving the keys in the truck, though he always did. The only time he didn’t was when he went to town.

  “I am seriously going to kill him.”

  “I’m serious,” Judge said in tone filled with laugher. He exited from the barn next door and held up Ace’s keys. He laughed as he came closer, and Ace swiped the keys from him.

  “I don’t get why you think pranks are funny,” he said. “Why is making someone else nervous or having them feel stupid funny?”

  Judge sobered then, his dark eyes searching Ace’s. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re forty years old, Judge. It might be time to grow up.” He lifted the keys and pressed the panic button. Sound and light poured out of the space between two of their stables, and a moment later, Preacher came running out of the same area.

  “Turn it off!” he yelled.

  Ace didn’t turn it off, because in that moment, he didn’t care if Preacher went deaf. Maybe that would teach him not to move someone’s car without telling them.

  He waited until he was nice and close to the truck—and about to go deaf himself—before he silenced the alarm. He didn’t say good-bye to his cousins, and he barely enjoyed lunch and story time with Cactus.

  They drove down to the town of Three Rivers together, both of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. The closer Ace got to the downtown park, the more congested traffic became.

  “Aren’t you going to park at the bank?” Cactus asked as Ace went by it.

  “No,” he said. “Holly Ann gave me a parking pass for the VIP lot.”

  “Oh, a perk.” Cactus grinned at him. By the time they made it into the gated lot, Ace thought they might as well have parked at the bank and walked, the way they usually did. It would’ve taken less time.