Be Mine This Christmas

by Jean Brashear

  Surprise blossomed. “No. You can’t—”

  “Can’t what? I’m in charge of a lot of people, Dulcie. And I have to make decisions on the fly.”

  “You don’t know anything about children.”

  “I know you can’t be in two places at once. Besides, Torie can help me. And there’s Aunt Nita, if Torie and I can’t manage.” He saw the indecision. “I’m not going to hurt your children, Dulcie.”

  She glanced up at him with those huge, beautiful blue eyes swamped with tears. “You don’t have to do this, Gib.”

  He cupped her cheek and brushed away the tears with his thumb. Whatever had made her change her mind about him, all he could see now was his Dulcie in trouble. She was in pain, and he’d never been able to stand that. “Let me help, honey,” he said.

  She dropped her head as if she couldn’t put one foot in front of the other one more second.

  Gib gathered her close with his one free arm, and for a precious moment, Dulcie relaxed against him.

  Then Lily stirred, and Dulcie sprang back. “I’m sorry.” She swiped at her eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

  Gib grasped her chin and turned her face toward him. “You’re carrying too heavy a load by yourself.”

  Her shoulders went rigid with pride. “I can handle everything just fine. This is an unusual circumstance.”

  Privately he doubted it, but he didn’t argue. “Is there someone I should call about your class tomorrow?”

  Her expression was bleak. “It’s so hard to find a substitute, especially before the holidays. I’ll call in the morning, if I have to, but maybe we can leave here in time.”

  “You can’t seriously be thinking of going to work after the night you’ve had already.”

  That stubborn face was oh-so-familiar. “I don’t need much sleep.”

  She needed about six months of it, best he could tell. But he also knew Dulcie, and arguing would only stiffen her resistance. He didn’t manage people for a living for nothing. “But Bobby won’t be ready for daycare, will he?” She wouldn’t stay home for herself, but a child was another matter.

  She shook her head, and her military posture crumbled.

  “Look—” He was about to say that he’d keep the kids and she could sleep, but he stopped himself just in time. She’d already made the point that he didn’t have any experience with children.

  But he had an ace in the hole. “I’ll call Aunt Nita as soon as I know she and Uncle Raymond are up. She’s great with kids—you know she was a terrific mother to me after mine was gone. You stay here with Bobby and take your time. Tell me who to call in the morning, and then whenever he’s free to go, I’ll come get you.”

  “I can—” Do it myself, he would bet the farm she was about to say until she realized what he already had. She had no transportation without him. Reluctantly, she nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

  Gib smothered a grin. There was a decided reluctance in that thank you. Dulcie was a proud woman, and she managed an unbelievable amount all on her own, but she wasn’t superwoman, however much she might try to be. “Can you be away from him long enough to stay with this bunch while I warm up the car? I don’t want to worry them by leaving them alone when they’re so sleepy.”

  Her smile was grateful and maybe a little relieved that a bachelor had thought of that. Hell, he might not be married, but kids were people, weren’t they? Just smaller and more…tender. More easily damaged.

  Dulcie had set herself up to repair three scarred little souls, and these kids were very lucky she had. “You impress me, Dulcie,” he said.

  “What?” She was startled. “Why?”

  He chuckled, and tucked a curl behind her ear. “The amazing thing is that you don’t even see it, do you?”

  Lily whimpered and forced them to silence. Carefully, he handed her off to Dulcie, then bent to Torie. “Torie, can you wake up, please?”

  Torie stirred and blinked like an owl. Right now, she looked a lot younger. “What’s going on? How’s Bobby?” She rubbed her eyes and sat up. In her lap, Andre grumbled.

  “Let your mom explain while I get the car.” With long strides, Gib left the waiting room.

  Feeling too much like he’d left something precious behind.

  The night was short and miserable, trying to tuck his six-foot-four frame into Dulcie’s short sofa, but Gib couldn’t make himself sleep in her bed. Not that he wouldn’t like to get to that, but he wanted her in it with him when he did.

  Gib went still, realizing that he was clearly not over Dulcie at all.

  When morning arrived, he was proud of Torie and himself, though, in all honesty, Torie deserved most of the credit, directing the younger children like a sergeant-at-arms. Gib went through a dizzying whirl of tasks. Cooking breakfast wasn’t bad—even if the kids seemed a little suspicious of his brand of egg-scrambling. Assembling lunchboxes was scary, supervising tooth-brushing was okay, but brushing Lily’s hair and putting it into pigtails might have been the most daunting task he’d ever attempted. Winning a NASCAR championship at the end of a grueling thirty-six races was a piece of cake compared to corralling slippery-clean hair on a wiggly little girl.

  Somehow, though, he’d managed to get them all to school without having to call in Aunt Nita. He’d talked to Dulcie, but Dr. Jake, who’d taken over the day shift, had decided Bobby should be observed until the afternoon, so technically, Gib was a free man. Dulcie had assured him she would have a ride and would be home before the kids were, making it clear that his help was no longer needed.

  He should have been happy. He could return to his aunt and uncle’s house and catch up on lost sleep, or he could pull out his laptop and check in with the shop, tinker with some changes he hadn’t had time to implement during the season. He headed back to his aunt’s place, intending to do exactly that. He drank coffee and visited with his aunt and uncle after Uncle Raymond had returned from his morning coffee with his buddies.

  “You should come with me tomorrow,” Raymond suggested. “The coffee crowd would get a kick out of visiting with you.”

  “I just might do that.” What else did he have to do, really?

  “I’m so glad you’ll be here for the community Christmas,” his aunt said.

  “This is the second mention I’ve heard of it. Something new around here? I don’t recall it from before.”

  “No, this is only the second one. Actually, Rissa’s little Eric started the ball rolling. Poor little guy had lived at the mercy of his mom’s whims for his whole life, only the two of them and never settling anywhere. He’s taken to the big Gallagher family like a duck to water.”

  “So somehow that became a community celebration?”

  Raymond nodded and spoke. “Apparently he got to worrying about the folks around here who don’t have big families and wanted something to include them. It kinda snowballed from there, and before Scarlett knew what hit her, the whole town was involved. Sort of like the community workdays we’ve been having.”

  “I do remember those, at least one or two, from when I was here.”

  Raymond chuckled. “We have them now for every durned thing. A lot of good has come of them, though. The fire station, the clinic, the courthouse remodel, among others.”

  “And they draw the most interesting visitors, like Josh Marshall and Liam Sullivan. Walker Roundtree.”

  Gib’s brows rose. “Film stars and a country music giant? How did they get here?”

  Raymond pulled at his chin. “Let me see…”

  “I remember,” said Aunt Nita. “Josh and Mackey worked together on a couple of films when Mackey was doing stunt work, and he brought along his brother Quinn and their cousin Case, plus their families. I think Walker Roundtree is a friend of one of the Marshalls.”

  “More often than not, the Gallagher cousins from Morning Star also show up. Scarlett grew up not knowing she had any family but her mother, and like Eric, she can’t seem to get enough. The more the merrier seems to be her preference.”<
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  “And look what it got her, a surprise wedding.” The two of them shared a laugh while reminiscing over the details of how Ruby and Scarlett planned surprise weddings for each other, aided and abetted by Scarlett’s cousin by marriage, Maddie Gallagher.

  Gib’s head was whirling, trying to keep the cast of characters straight. One thing was clear, though: Sweetgrass was thriving. And filled with an even more interesting assortment of inhabitants than when he lived here. “I hope I can be here,” he said truthfully. “But I need to be sure everything’s going smoothly at the shop. We might not be racing right now, but the prep we do this time of year is critical to next season’s success. Speaking of which, I’d better get a little work done, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course, son.”

  He returned to his room and pulled out his laptop.

  But his renowned concentration and focus failed him utterly. Instead, Dulcie’s little house kept calling to him. Somehow, fish out of water that he was, he’d felt more at home there than any place he could remember.

  “Aunt Nita, Uncle Raymond, I have to go out for a while.” They looked up from the double solitaire game they were playing on the kitchen table.

  “You okay, Gib?” his uncle asked.

  His aunt just studied him, then nodded in satisfaction, a little smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “You wouldn’t be dropping by a certain little house, now would you?”

  Aunt Nita had a scary ability to read his mind. “What ever gave you that idea?”

  Her eyes were concerned. “She broke your heart once, honey. You sure you want to let her back in?”

  He glanced away. “I don’t know. All I’m sure of is that Dulcie needs help, but she’d never ask for it. She won’t welcome me at the clinic, but I can’t just sit around and do nothing. I saw some things around her house that need fixing, like a dripping faucet and a toilet that doesn’t shut off completely. The stair rail on the porch is loose, and one of the back steps is warping. I still have the key, so I thought maybe before she brings Bobby home, I could get a few of those things done.”

  “Need some help, son?” Uncle Raymond asked.

  “I wouldn’t turn it down,” Gib answered. “But it might be better if she’s only mad at me and not you, too.”

  “Now where would be the fun in that?” His uncle’s eyes twinkled. “Want to go, Nita?”

  “I’d dearly love to,” his aunt replied. “But a woman doesn’t want another woman messing with her house. I’d better stay.”

  “What about a man messing with her house?” Gib asked.

  Aunt Nita shrugged. “Men can be excused. We don’t expect them to be as smart. But I can do some cooking for them.”

  Gib broke out laughing while his uncle rolled his eyes.

  “Well, this dumb ole country boy will miss you.” Uncle Raymond bent and kissed his wife.

  Gib watched them with a curious ache in his chest. Those two had been married nearly forty years, had been through a lot together, yet the bond between them filled the room with warmth. Once he’d thought that would be him and Dulcie.

  He still had to find out why it wasn’t.

  Dulcie got home in time to take a nap, but just to be safe, she put Bobby in bed with her, then conked out cold for two hours, not waking until the other children arrived. When she dragged herself from bed to face supervising homework and fixing dinner, plus the laundry she had to manage nearly every evening in addition to grading the papers she hadn’t gotten to last night, she had a terrible struggle to fully awaken. When she filled the coffeepot with water, she noticed that the faucet was no longer dripping, but she didn’t have time to ponder it.

  Until she discovered that the toilet was shutting off every time and when she later went outside to put trash in the can, she realized the porch step had been fixed, along with the railing. A floorboard no longer squeaked, and the front door shut without slamming it.

  Dulcie knew immediately who’d worked all these miracles—Gib had always been very gifted with his hands.

  What she didn’t know was what to do about it. How to feel.

  I can’t care about you again, Gib. Letting you go nearly killed me before.

  Dulcie poured a cup of coffee and stood staring out the kitchen window, trying to figure out how to hold her heart—and those of her children who already thought Gib hung the moon—apart from a man whose basic nature was so good.

  But whose lifestyle could never mesh with hers.

  And who would never forgive her once he learned the truth.

  She shook herself and went to the refrigerator. Thinking about supper was a big enough decision just then. She opened the door, mentally cataloging what would be left so that they would make it until payday—

  And clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle her cry.

  A roast, complete with potatoes and carrots and gravy, sat there, needing only to be reheated. Alongside it was a salad, already prepared, and an apple pie that looked to be homemade.

  “What is it, Mom?” Torie crossed behind her and peered inside. “Oh. Wow. We haven’t had a roast since—”

  Since Tom died, Dulcie mentally completed. Oh, Gib, what are you doing to me? She couldn’t possibly deny her children the benefits of a hearty meal, yet how did she deal with his generosity, knowing what she did?

  When she heard the knock at the door and the shouts of glee, she didn’t even have to look to know who’d arrived. Gib swept in like the force of nature he was, dispensing gifts yet again, these demonstrating that he’d paid attention to what the children were allowed to play with.

  Her children literally glowed in his presence, and he seemed very happy to see them. He even took control of Bobby, holding the boy on his lap and managing to make Bobby feel an active part of things without moving around a lot or getting too excited.

  And when he looked at her over their heads, his expression caused a lump to form in her throat and tears to spring to her eyes.

  The boy she’d loved with all her heart had grown into a man to admire. A man to love.

  But she couldn’t. She had no right to.

  Dulcie turned away and went to warm up the bountiful meal Gib had provided, though she knew that each bite she took would be tainted by the bitter taste of lost chances.

  Chapter Three

  Over the next few days, Gib was given no opportunity to have his discussion with Dulcie, but somehow that didn’t bother him too much. He was too busy with her and her children to get impatient about a discussion that grew less and less important than spending time with her.

  He’d learned that time alone with her fell into the category of an impossible dream. As a clueless kid, he’d never realized just what it took to mother a brood, especially as a single parent. Best he could tell, she slept four or five hours a night, max, and he worried about her. He tried to take up the slack when she’d let him; meanwhile, he found himself really enjoying the kids, each of them so different. It was a kick to bring them surprises, though after a dressing-down by Dulcie, he quit choosing expensive toys, even though he could easily afford them.

  Dulcie couldn’t, and it wasn’t fair to raise their expectations when he wouldn’t always be around, she pointed out. She was right, but the shop and the team seemed a distant universe at the moment.

  Which should have worried the living daylights out of him—and did. His life wasn’t here, and it couldn’t be, as long as he was involved in racing.

  But everyone from the team owner to the secretaries had been telling him he had to take time off or he would burn out, so that’s what he was doing. Sort of.

  Taking Torie to the speedway up in Dallas and giving her an insider’s tour didn’t count as working. Nor did letting Bobby watch a big version of the race car he slept with every night zoom around the track. As for the session with Andre in a quarter midget on a dirt track in San Antonio…that didn’t count, either. He loved what he did for a living, but this…this was fun.

  Only Lily turned up he
r nose at racing-related activities. She was crazy over horses, and a day spent riding at his uncle’s place had her over the moon.

  “You have to stop spoiling them,” Dulcie ordered one night, after all of them had finally—finally—gone to bed. It was Saturday, and she’d already graded papers while he’d entertained kids that afternoon, taking them to Rissa’s to ride and play with the barn kittens, as well as Eric, baby Rosie and Samantha, the housekeeper’s daughter.

  Dinner was done, ditto the dishes and baths and bed, but Dulcie was rearranging a kitchen cabinet. The woman could not sit still.

  “Dulcie—” he began.

  She peeked over her shoulder. “Are you leaving?”

  Gib smiled. She looked about sixteen, still slim in her blue jeans and an old sweatshirt. “No,” he replied and moved right up behind her.

  Dulcie froze. “Gib?” She started to turn, then gripped the counter instead.

  And Gib did something he’d been dying to do for days. Carefully, ever so slowly, he drew aside the curls escaping from her topknot and placed his lips right at that spot that had once made her quake.

  “Gib—” Her voice was strangled as she shivered. He smiled against her skin, then kissed the side of her neck, then slid around to her throat.

  Her head fell back, and a low sound emerged. Gib closed his arms around her waist and drew her back against him.

  Dulcie melted into him, and Gib took heart. He kissed his way behind her ear, around her cheek.

  She whirled in his arms and pressed her mouth to his.

  Sweet, ah, so sweet, he thought, even as his body heat climbed. For the first time in all these years, he felt that click, that sense of rightness, of belonging. He wanted to scoop her up and never let go. She fit in his arms as perfectly as ever, as though the years between had never—

  Dulcie broke away. “No.” She shook her head violently. “No, Gib, I can’t.” Her eyes were huge and wet and devastated.

  “Why not?” But he knew. Dulcie was not someone to have an affair with, not someone to be set on a shelf while his real life consumed him. She was a marrying kind of woman, one who would want his whole heart—and he had too many other responsibilities. He couldn’t give her what she deserved.