Miracle Creek Christmas

by Krista Jensen

  She switched on an old gooseneck lamp on her desk and aimed the light toward the easel.

  Can’t wait to see it.

  This was what happened when people shared their stuff. Their food. Their couch. Their deepest fears . . . You left your hat here.

  She waited for his response. She’d watched him pull his hat off during his story, like he was too warm from the fire or the intense memories. His scars were out of her sight, but the fact that he’d taken off his hat at all with her right there was important. His hair had been messy, thick, and as dark as his eyes in the firelight. Just like it had been that day he’d come over and broken her door to get in.

  I’ll have to come by and get it.

  Come by anyti— She paused, remembering her dinner date with Dalton. She squeezed her eyes shut. She should have told Dalton no. But she hadn’t. She backspaced. How about tomorrow?

  Great. I’ll come by after lunch.

  I’ll see you then.

  She reread the text conversation and decided it was good. Then she rolled her eyes at herself for needing to do that.

  Her phone beeped again.

  Thanks for listening last night.

  The smile returned to her lips. Thanks for an amazing day.

  She set her phone down on the desk and leaned forward on her elbows. What are you doing, Riley Madigan?

  “Nothing,” she said aloud. “I’m not doing anything.”

  Her phone beeped again, and she peeked at it.

  Get back to work.

  She flipped over her phone and laughed.

  Dalton followed Riley as the hostess led them to a table already occupied by two other couples.

  “Hey, there he is, the man of the hour.” One of the men, the oldest of the group, lifted a hand in greeting. The others looked up from their menus.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Dalton said. She felt his hand on her back as he motioned to the older couple. “Riley, this is Rich and Suzanne Derenger. Rich runs my defense.”

  “And this,” Dalton gestured to the younger couple across the table, “is Brian and Stephanie Grady. Brian is my assistant on offense.” He nodded to the group. “Everyone, meet Riley Madigan.”

  “You’re the art teacher, right?” Brian asked.

  “That’s right.” Riley took the chair Dalton pulled out for her. She paused as her gaze met that of Brian’s wife, Stephanie. The woman’s brow arched in a way that reminded her of the women at the bonfire when Dalton had possessively ushered her around. She gently cleared her throat, looking between both men. “Do you work at the high school?”

  “No,” Brian said, lifting his drink. “In a school as small as Mt. Stuart, finding staff that can teach and coach is tough.”

  “Rich played at UW,” Dalton said. “I’m lucky to have him.”

  “That was more than a few years ago,” Rich said, chuckling.

  Dalton leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Rich was the Huskies’ leading scorer his senior year. Went on to play for the Rams for five seasons.”

  She nodded at the implied importance of that information. “Did you like living in St. Louis?”

  Rich chuckled. “They were still in LA when I was playing.”

  “Oh, my mistake.”

  He glanced at his wife and winked. “At my age, that’s a mistake I’ll easily forgive.”

  Rich gestured to Dalton. “This man here led the Beacons to their first state championship. I never got one of those.”

  Dalton leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. He’d already bragged about that achievement to Riley. That and the fact that he’d played for WSU while he got his teaching degree and graduated magna cum laude.

  The waiter came to take her and Dalton’s drink order and left again.

  Riley glanced at Brian, still feeling his wife’s unflinching gaze. “And what about you, Brian? What’s your football history?”

  Brian shook his head. “I played in high school.” He shrugged. “Love the game.” He looked at his wife, and she smiled at him, genuine and proud. The look of affection they shared made Riley reconsider the earlier scrutiny she’d felt.

  “Riley,” Stephanie said. “How do you like Miracle Creek?”

  Her gaze flickered between her and Dalton as he rested his hand on the back of Riley’s chair. The scrutiny returned.

  “Well, it’s very small, isn’t it?” Riley said, meeting her gaze, and the others chuckled. “That takes some getting used to.”

  “I’m sure,” Stephanie said. “Everyone knows everything about everybody. It’s a blessing and a curse, really. Isn’t that right, Dalton?”

  Brian coughed and pushed his open menu in front of his wife. “Maybe I’ll try the Frutte d Mare this time. What do you think, sweetheart?”

  Stephanie frowned at her husband. “You’re allergic to shrimp.”

  He shook his head. “What was I thinking?” He leaned closer to her, lifting the menu as if to create a barrier between them and the rest of the table. “What were you thinking of getting?”

  Riley watched the exchange half humored and half confused by the undisguised feeling she’d sensed from Stephanie toward Dalton and herself. Was it malice? Whatever it was, her husband was doing his best to block it.

  Dalton studied his own menu, his lips pursed in amusement.

  She leaned toward him. “Is there something I should know here?”

  “Well,” he said, his tone hushed, “the ragù has green peas in it. But the chicken parmesan is perfection. And we should definitely share a plate of bruschetta.”

  Without warning, his warm hand squeezed her knee under the table, which made her jump and wrench away. He grinned, and she felt her face get hot. She pushed her chair back and stood. The others looked up, startled looks on their faces.

  “Excuse me,” she said, regaining her composure. “I need to find the restroom.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Stephanie said, standing before Riley could step away from the table.

  Riley paused only long enough to see Brian throw Stephanie a warning glance as he stood, too, and for Stephanie to ignore it.

  “Order the short ribs for me, honey,” Stephanie said as he pushed her empty chair back in.

  Dalton smiled up at Riley. “And what would you like me to tell the waiter?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll have the lemon crab linguini.” Then she leaned in and whispered through her teeth. “You said you’d behave.”

  His smile widened. “I am behaving, honey.”

  The walk to the restroom was tense and silent, and Riley wondered if the woman in front of her really had to use the facilities or if she, too, was using it as an excuse. Riley hoped it was the former.

  She was wrong.

  The bathroom door had barely closed when Stephanie turned to Riley. “What I said about this being a small town—that’s true. It’s insane, actually.”

  “Excuse me?” Riley glanced at a stall, wondering if she should continue with her ruse of an escape.

  Stephanie took a deep breath, as though reaching for patience, which only stirred impatience in Riley. “Somebody always knows somebody who is related to somebody.” The woman’s eyes bored into hers, even in the reflection of the mirror. “The blessing is you have people looking out for you, quick to give you a helping hand.”

  Riley waited, feeling uneasy.

  “The curse is, people talk. They share what they see. Out of genuine concern or morbid curiosity . . . or hope.” The woman shut her mouth then frowned. She thrust her hand out at Riley. “We weren’t fully introduced. I’m Stephanie Grady. Stephanie Rivers Grady. I’m Mark’s overprotective big sister.”

  Riley froze.

  “I’d like to know if you’re playing games with my brother.” Stephanie’s voice trembled, but her appearance didn’t falter. “Because pe
ople are talking. And they’ll talk about tonight, too. Dalton will talk.”

  Riley looked at Stephanie’s hand, still held out to her, then at the door as she considered that Dalton had known what Mark’s sister’s presence here would mean. What Riley’s presence here tonight would mean. He couldn’t be that conniving, could he? She felt claustrophobic.

  Riley took Stephanie’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m not playing games with anyone. Your brother means a lot to me, and I’ve been open with him, just as I’ve been open with Dalton.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “He’s been a good friend to me.”

  “Dalton?” Stephanie looked doubtful.

  “No, your brother. Dalton has been . . .” She searched for the right word. “Attentive.”

  Stephanie snorted with suppressed laughter.

  The action made Riley want to like her. A surprise, considering she was feeling more than a little cornered.

  “You know . . .” She chose her words carefully. She cared about Mark. And Cal. And Leah, now that she thought about it. “You don’t know me. And I’m feeling judged. I’m getting to know your family, and I like that. I still feel new here. Very new. I shouldn’t need to defend myself to anyone, but I can assure you, I think very highly of Mark.”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. “‘Very highly’? He spent the night at your house. Last night. Or have you already forgotten?”

  Riley set her jaw, breathing steadily through her nose. This was nobody’s business. Stephanie’s words came back to her: Every­body knows everything about everybody. A blessing and a curse. This was the very thing she’d wanted to avoid by moving here.

  Riley’s voice was low, but strong. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation in a restaurant bathroom. “Mark was a gentleman. We talked. He talked, actually. A lot. And it was good. And we fell asleep from talking. That’s all. So people should shut up. Whether they’re morbidly curious or hopeful, or . . .” She glanced at the door. “Selfish.” She folded her arms, fighting emotions she didn’t want to feel right then. “Mark deserves some peace. He deserves privacy, not a prying posse of small-town hero worshipers. No wonder he’s been hiding from all of you.”

  Stephanie studied her, her mouth tense. Seconds ticked by.

  “So,” Stephanie finally said, “he’s been hiding from all of us.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, throwing a hand out. “Duh.” Riley would’ve thought that was clear, especially to his sister.

  “So, let me ask you this.” She leaned forward. “Why isn’t he hiding from you?”

  Riley blinked. “Because we’re friends.”

  Stephanie’s brow lifted. “He has friends.”

  “Because he trusts me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Because I don’t look at him the way other people do.” She didn’t owe anyone these answers. But this was Mark’s sister. Riley’s respect for the family had loosened her tongue.

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t here when the accident happened. I didn’t know him then.” Frustration crept up Riley’s neck, hot and irritating.

  “And you know him now?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  “And do you know how Dalton Gainer revels in the idea of me having to watch him cozy up to the woman who spent the night with my brother last night—friends or not?”

  The restroom door swung open, and Riley grabbed it from the startled woman.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “It’s too crowded in here.” Riley stormed out of the bathroom, but she was too off keel to return to the table, so she took a sharp left and stepped outside to a blast of frigid air. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes, wishing she’d driven herself. Traffic tires made slushy sounds on the street.

  And you know him now? The question rang in her head. She remembered last night. She remembered Mark’s smile. She remembered his touch and his words, his fear and his courage. She was trusting him. Just like she’d allowed herself to trust Gavin.

  A touch at her elbow pulled her from her thoughts.

  “Hey, um, I’m sorry.” Stephanie had followed her.

  Riley nodded.

  “I shouldn’t have pressed you like that. I don’t know you. And I’m realizing, too late, that my brother would not be grateful for my interference just now.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” Riley said. “But I agree. He would really, really not like what just happened in there.” She glanced sideways at Stephanie.

  She breathed out a laugh. “Oh, he’d kill me.”

  “Stephanie—”

  Stephanie put her hand up. “You don’t need to say anything. You’re right. You have a right to privacy just as much as Mark does. I just—I hope I didn’t ruin anything between you and my brother. Whatever it is.”

  Riley sighed, her breath visible in the frosty night air. “It’ll be fine,” she said, but immediately wondered how it could be.

  “Good. Like I said, I’m overprotective. He’s been through a lot. But he trusts you.” She held her hand out once more. “Start over?”

  Riley took her hand, and they shook.

  “I’m Stephanie Grady. I believe you know my brother, Mark.”

  Riley nodded. “I’m having Thanksgiving with him and your dad.” Riley shrugged at Stephanie’s look of surprise. “They’ve been good to me.”

  “Well,” Stephanie said, hugging herself in the cold. “Curiouser and curiouser.” She nodded to the door behind her. “We should probably go inside before Brian gets worried. Pretty sure he thought I had plans to take you out.”

  Riley huffed. “He isn’t the only one.”

  Stephanie grinned. Mark was right; his sister had her own kind of fire.

  They turned to go inside, but Stephanie spun back to face her and Riley halted.

  “Just . . . be careful with Mark. Okay?” She searched Riley’s face with sincere concern.

  Riley nodded. “Of course.” She left unsaid the words that weighed on her heart: That’s just it, Stephanie. He doesn’t want to be treated carefully.

  When they returned, a look of unveiled relief passed over Brian’s face. Even Dalton seemed to dial down his touchy-feely possessiveness and let the evening take its course in pleasant conversation between friends.

  After dinner, Riley sat in frustrated silence as Dalton drove her home. Every time she opened her mouth to say something about her relationship with Mark or to ask about the fact that Dalton knew Stephanie would be at dinner, she stopped herself. The words “everybody knows everything about everybody” tied her tongue and head in knots.

  A year ago, she wouldn’t have let any of it get under her skin. A year ago, she’d been in Hollywood, seeing a man she thought she might have a future with, oblivious to the microscopic lens that was even then magnifying and distorting everything when it came crashing down. She thought she’d escaped that kind of scrutiny. Turns out she’d jumped into the hometown beating heart of it.

  Dalton glanced at her hands as she wrung them in her lap, and she moved them to her knees.

  “So, are you going to tell me about this project you’re working on?”

  “No,” she said, looking straight ahead. The sign for the Cash­mere exit passed by.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Miracle Creek is a small town. And this is a surprise.”

  “Ah, a mystery,” he said.

  “No. Mysteries are meant to be solved. This project isn’t open for investigation.”

  He laughed. “Okay, okay. Subject closed. I was just taking an interest in what you do outside the classroom.” He cocked his head. “And in that little place of yours.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” she murmured at her window as he took the Miracle Creek turnoff.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

&
nbsp; “Nothing. Thank you for dinner. The company was . . . enlightening. I can see why you enjoy coaching with your staff.”

  “I’m glad you had a good time.” He passed the park with its towering pines and flagpole. Several trees were draped in lights.

  She looked at the Grill-n-Go across the street. Considering what Mark would think of this dinner with his sister unsettled her stomach.

  She hadn’t wanted these complications. She had rules for this stuff.

  Dalton parked in front of her house, leaning toward her as if he were going to share a secret. “You being there tonight was infinitely better than facing a dinner like that alone.”

  “I can imagine.” She picked up her purse, but Dalton placed his hand over hers.

  “I’d be a fool,” he said quietly, “if I didn’t ask you to join me for dinner again. Maybe somewhere a little less”—he bobbled his head—“crowded. My place? Saturday?”

  He looked at her, hopeful.

  “I’m busy Saturday,” she said, smoothly pulling her hand from beneath his and placing it on the door handle.

  “All day? We can get dinner afterward. Take it to my place?”

  His lack of receiving her obvious messages was wearing thin. She sighed. “I have other plans. And I have to get back to work now. But thank you for a night out. You were right. I did need the break.” And some perspective.

  He moved to get out and walk her to the door.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said. “I really do need to hustle. Deadline looming. I’ll see you on Monday.” She practically leapt out of her seat and hurried to her front door.

  Inside, she placed her hand to her head and leaned against the door. She still felt like she needed a break. Or a bollen, at least.

  A knock at the door made her jump. She opened it to find Dalton looking expectant. She put her hand on her hip. “I thought we said good night.”

  He cocked his head. “Did we though? The last thing I wanted to do was scare you off.”

  “I need to get back to work.”

  He stepped into the doorway. “I’m worried about you, new girl,” he said as he pushed past her. “All work and no play makes for a lonely night.” He reached to pull her jacket off.