It would be easier once he’d hired a resident to work with him. The practice was growing rapidly. Dr. Chevalier had been revered by the large animal owners in the area, but aside from treating the cats at Poppy Gold, he’d been doing less and less with domestic pets. By the time he’d retired, the clinic facilities had largely gone unused. Clients were returning now that they had a vet who was consistently available.
“Bandit is improving,” Gideon explained between bites. “But he’ll have to stay a full ten days as a precaution.”
“Why? Surely he’d do better at home with his brother.”
Gideon resisted reminding her that the John Muir Cottage wasn’t “home.” Nicole’s casual presumption that she could keep Chico in the suite still bothered him. Though they’d allowed it, the owners couldn’t be thrilled at the idea of a rambunctious kitten clawing its way up the drapes or knocking over antiques.
“The wound on his shoulder appears to be from an animal bite,” he explained. “I have to keep him in quarantine to be sure he hasn’t been infected with anything contagious.”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It’s unlikely, but it’s best to be cautious.”
He shot a glance at Bandit, who was watching the container from the madrigal feast with a gleam in his eyes. Being interested in food was a good sign.
“Then we still shouldn’t say anything about him to Beth and Annie. But you think he’s going to be okay?” Nicole asked. “I mean, otherwise?”
“It’s too early to be sure, but he’s responding to the antibiotics and has a small appetite.”
“Actually, I think he wants your chicken pretty badly.”
Gideon chuckled. “You’re probably right, but it’s too rich for him.”
She smiled in turn, but her nose wrinkled a little and he suddenly realized that the warmth of the clinic was intensifying the barnyard odor clinging to his jeans and boots.
“Sorry about the stink,” he murmured. “I just got back from working with an injured farm animal.”
“That’s okay. We have cows in Texas, too. One of my coworkers grew up near a stockyard and calls it the smell of money. I told my nieces that when they visited a ranch on a school trip, but Beth promptly announced it just smelled like poop to her.”
Another chuckle escaped Gideon. “How about Annie?”
“Annie prefers thinking about things before talking. After a few minutes she wanted to know why, if cows smelled like money, did cowboys ride horses instead of driving cars?”
“Smart kid.”
“They’re both smart. It simply shows in different ways.”
* * *
NICOLE SLOWLY ATE her apple dessert, trying to stretch it through Gideon’s meal, though why she cared was a mystery.
A dog barked nearby and she jumped so hard she nearly dropped her spoon.
“S-sorry,” she muttered nervously.
“It’s just Pandowdy. We board him when his family is out of town. Don’t worry—he’s gentle.”
“That’s what everybody says.” Nicole wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“Everybody?”
“Dog lovers. When I was seven, we stayed with friends of my parents who owned a large Doberman pinscher. I’d never been around animals and was nervous. Maybe he sensed my fear, because he starting nipping me. The owners just laughed, saying how cute it was that he wanted to play, but it kept getting worse until this happened.” She pointed to two rows of jagged scars that extended around her forearm. They’d faded over time, but the memories remained painfully clear.
“Hell.” Gideon dropped his fork and looked closer. “That was a nasty bite.”
“They claimed I must have provoked him. I’ve never seen my brother so angry.”
Gideon’s expression darkened. “With good reason. A properly trained dog doesn’t nip or bite. And nobody provokes an animal that frightens them.”
A tightness inside Nicole uncurled. She still remembered Luke shouting at everyone as he wrapped a towel around her arm and demanded a doctor. He’d even called the police from the emergency room to report what had happened. Immediately afterward they’d gone to stay with a different family.
“Luke is the only one who gets why I’m so afraid of dogs and large animals,” she said awkwardly.
* * *
GIDEON WAS ASHAMED that he’d been scornful of Nicole’s fear. If nothing else, as a veterinarian, he ought to have been more understanding.
“You sound close to your brother.”
“He’s too protective, though I understand why. Our childhood was...” She seemed to shake herself. “Anyhow, I’ve tried to stop being so afraid of dogs, but I freeze inside when they start barking. I’m sure it seems ridiculous to someone who treats horses and cows.”
“I grew up on my foster parents’ farm in Nebraska, so I had a head start with animals. But if I’d gone through what you did, I’d probably feel the same.”
Gideon was startled to see Nicole light up excitedly.
“A farm? How wonderful. Do you visit often?”
“I see Lars and Helga a couple times a year and we talk on the phone regularly. They’re retired now and have sold the farm.”
“They must miss you.”
The simple statement wasn’t what Gideon had expected. Most people seemed unconvinced that he was fond of his foster mother and father. His ex-wife had never understood his closeness to them. “But they aren’t your real parents. They were paid to keep you,” she’d declared. It was true that many foster relationships weren’t good, but he’d been lucky. Lars and Helga were special and had given him a real home.
“I miss them, too. I’m hoping they’ll move to Glimmer Creek.”
Nicole started to say something, only to stop when Allie appeared around a corner.
“The food was amazing. Thanks again, Nicole.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Gideon echoed.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Nicole stood up. “I’d best go. My brother was worried about me coming over here this late, but he couldn’t leave the girls alone to come with me.”
“Do you need a ride?” Gideon asked as she said good-night to Bandit.
“No. Luke got an SUV for us to use while we’re staying at Poppy Gold. It wasn’t necessary, but it’s easier to get around.”
Gideon escorted her out, the cold air cutting through his shirt. His eyebrows lifted at the white SUV sitting near the side door. “Big.”
“Very. Annie named it ‘Moby Dick’ after one of the cats she saw you examining at the VC.”
Moby Dick was a darned good name. He looked down at Nicole’s face, and in spite of the warnings shouting in his head, he stroked a silky strand of hair from her forehead.
She was so beautiful it took his breath away.
“Gideon?” she whispered.
“Thank you for sitting with me while I ate.”
Her eyes widened. Then she smiled slowly and rose on her tiptoes. “You’re welcome,” she whispered against his lips.
His arms slid around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Nicole was far more complicated than he’d realized and it was difficult to resist temptation.
The faint scent of Shalimar filled his senses, along with the flavors of apple and butter from the dessert she’d eaten. Gideon tried to close his mind to memories of Helga sitting with Lars as he ate a late meal. It had surprised him when Nicole had done the same, but a single gesture didn’t mean that much. She was more empathetic than Renee, that was all.
And a whole lot sweeter to hold.
Nicole arched against his body and he no longer felt the cold night air. He deepened the kiss, their tongues playing, his blood pumping hard, impossibly increasing the pressure against the zipper on his jeans.
Yet slowly he became aware of her hand on his chest, pushing away ever so slightly.
He lifted his head and stared down at her, but he couldn’t read her expression in the shadows. “What?”
“I have to go. My brother will be worried.”
“Yes, of course.”
Gideon helped her into the high seat of the SUV and closed the door, knowing he should be grateful that one of them had shown some restraint.
But he wasn’t.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SATURDAY WAS HECTIC and it wasn’t until midafternoon that Carlie got a chance to read her emails.
One was from a former coworker in San Francisco. Carlie hadn’t kept in touch and felt a flash of remorse as she opened the message. Frances had been staunchly supportive after the disaster with Derek.
It was just a brief note.
Carlie, I just heard Derek’s wife is planning to send a birth announcement the way she sent you an invitation to the wedding. She’s a WSWAB, in triplicate. I don’t want you to get blindsided again. FYI, they had a baby boy two days ago. Hope you’re well. Miss you. Frances
WSWAB was their acronym for Witch-Spelled-with-A-B.
It was a surprise that she’d emailed rather than called since they’d both seen personal messages become unhappily public, but Frances probably trusted her to be careful.
Carlie sat for a long minute, sorting out the emotions cascading through her. The strangest part was realizing that thinking about her ex-fiancé with another woman no longer made her angry. But even if she didn’t hate him, she still grieved for the baby she’d wanted.
Carlie sent a message thanking Frances, for some reason thinking about Luke. However blunt, inconsiderate and high-handed he might be, he was also generous, intelligent and adored his daughters. She alternated between being furious with him, admiring his fumbling attempts to connect with Annie and Beth...and wanting to rip his clothes off.
He wasn’t a skunk, but she had excellent reasons to keep her distance from him, too. Trust being one of those reasons.
Carlie got up and walked restlessly around her office.
It wasn’t that she distrusted men in general—her male relatives were an awfully nice group of guys and it wasn’t as if Luke had ever broken his word to her—it was just hard to have faith that someone could love her as much as she loved him and wouldn’t hurt her.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, Carlie sipped hot wassail as she wandered along the pedestrian shopping street with Luke and the girls, enjoying hospitality night. Nicole had stopped at the Days Gone By clothing shop, telling them to go on while she explored the costumes and vintage garments.
“I think your costumes are making my sister envious,” Luke commented.
“It isn’t intentional. My mother sews, and being the Poppy Gold activities director offers me plenty of excuses to enjoy her talents. It’s nice being able to indulge in the charm of a bygone era, without having to live with some of its drawbacks.”
Tonight she was wearing a dark red velvet skirt and jacket trimmed in black. The fitted waist of the jacket flared partway over her hips, like a second, very feminine overskirt. She told herself she’d worn it because she’d ridden in the lighted parade again, but that was just an excuse. At heart, she was still a little girl who’d never grown out of wanting to play dress-up.
She’d thought about offering Nicole the loan of a Victorian outfit for the evening, but she was already too involved with the Forresters. Baking cookies with them? Loaning out jeans and sweatpants from her personal wardrobe? Kissing Luke...?
Carlie swiftly directed her thoughts into a safer channel. “Annie, Beth, look at the juggler.”
A man in a Victorian suit and top hat was juggling brightly colored balls, while another entertainer on stilts would try to catch one of them, eventually causing the rest to tumble to the ground. This prompted a mock argument before they laughed and started all over again. Annie and Beth were transfixed.
Carlie glanced at Luke and saw an odd expression on his face.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Just thinking. The Christmas celebrations here are beyond anything I anticipated.”
“I’m glad. We love Glimmer Creek and want visitors to love it, too. Tonight is a good example of community spirit—the street entertainers are volunteers and the profits go to the fire department.”
“That’s nice.”
“What do you think?” said Nicole from behind them.
They turned and Carlie saw Luke’s sister in a rich emerald green Victorian dress and coat, her fingers in a mock fur muff and her hair piled high under a hat.
“You look fabulous,” Carlie declared.
“Thank you.” Nicole curtsied. “I’ll have to visit Poppy Gold every year during the Christmas season, just to have a place to wear my new finery.”
“I’ll get you into the parade tomorrow, riding in one of the carriages. That will show it off.”
“I’d love to... Oh,” Nicole yelped as an old bicycle horn honked nearby.
“Excuse, ma’am, excuse. My penny farthing doesn’t know where it’s going,” said a street performer wearing a Victorian-era police uniform.
“Papa, what’s a penny farthing?” Annie asked, bringing both pleasure and confusion to Luke’s face—the latter because he probably didn’t have a clue what to tell her.
“This is a penny farthing, lovely lady,” exclaimed the performer, patting his bicycle with a huge front wheel and a much smaller one in back. He dismounted and swept off his hat, bowing low to the twins. “Officer Bradigan at your service.”
“Always flirting with the pretty girls and ignoring your sworn duties,” scolded another costumed policeman as he bustled forward. “Though I must say, Bradigan, I can’t entirely blame you. They are charming.” He bowed low, as well, and pulled two peppermint sticks from his pocket.
The girls giggled and accepted the candy.
Officer Bradigan remounted his penny farthing and wobbled forward a foot, only to have his hat tumble to the ground. A third officer rushed forward to berate him for poor comportment, unworthy of his uniform.
They were members of the Poppy Police Beat, a group of players from the local theater group. They performed often through the year, improvising their comical skits. While Carlie had seen their act dozens of times, she loved every minute. Annie and Beth obviously felt the same; they laughed and clapped their hands in glee.
Guests were snapping pictures, including Nicole and Luke, and Carlie wondered if he’d ever allowed himself to just be a regular tourist.
After a while, the Poppy Police Beat continued down the street, Officer Bradigan leading the way on his penny farthing.
“Luke, I’m going to take Beth and Annie with me for a while,” Nicole said after the girls had tugged at her skirt and whispered something in her ear.
“All right. Just find us when you’re done.”
Carlie would have preferred not to be left alone with Luke, though being in a mass of people was hardly alone.
“Annie and Beth seem to be having fun,” she said, selecting one of the sandwiches at the Glimmer Creek General Store.
* * *
“YES.” LUKE FROWNED DISTRACTEDLY.
He’d noticed that, unlike most people, Carlie generally spoke Annie’s name before Beth’s. He didn’t know how they’d gotten into the habit of saying the names the opposite way—maybe it was just how they rolled off the tongue. After all, did anyone know why it was peanut butter and jelly, instead of jelly and peanut butter?
“Carlie, I’ve wanted to ask, why do you always put Annie’s name first?”
She scrunched her nose. “I shouldn’t say anything.”
“For Pete’s sake, would you forget about being the activities director?” he
ordered, exasperated. “We’ve gone way past that.”
Carlie looked into his eyes for a long moment, seeming to weigh his sincerity. “Okay. The thing is, I grew up with identical twin brothers, so I’ve seen how complicated the relationship can be.”
Luke’s attention sharpened. He didn’t know anyone else who had experience with twins. When he and Erika had looked for a nanny, they hadn’t thought it was an issue—their daughters were to be treated as individuals, and that was that. Yet lately he’d started to wonder if a little twin-expertise would be helpful.
“Quinn is quiet and introspective,” Carlie continued, “while Russ is more outgoing and competitive.”
“There’s nothing wrong with competition,” Luke interjected.
Carlie rolled her eyes. “As I was saying, when they were kids, Russ would badger or blackmail Quinn to get his way. A lot of the time, Quinn would finally do whatever Russ wanted, just to make him shut up. Ironically, Russ would then act as if it had been Quinn’s idea all along. Maybe he even believed it. My folks knew they needed to break the pattern, so they began calling Russ out on his behavior.”
“How does that relate to Beth and Annie?”
Carlie hesitated. “From what I’ve seen, Annie has her own approach to things and usually doesn’t care that much about winning. It doesn’t seem to bother her if Beth gets the prize or does something in a different way.”
He nodded. “Okay, but how does this relate to their names?”
“Beth is much more competitive. She wants to win, particularly over her sister. She’s a terrific kid, but I’ve seen her treat Annie the same way that Russ used to treat Quinn. That’s why I say Annie’s name first, so she won’t feel that she’s always second and might feel freer to stand up for herself.”
“I see.”
Luke had never thought having two little girls would be so complicated. He’d assumed he’d get ulcers when his daughters were sixteen, not six. Of course, Carlie wasn’t necessarily right; she’d only known them for two weeks.
Yet he started thinking about the evening the girls had decorated the trees in their bedroom—Beth rushing around, grabbing ornaments and sticking them on the branches, and Annie methodically choosing the ones she wanted before starting. He also remembered how Carlie had intervened when Beth started telling Annie she was taking too long and that her choices were “booooorrrrring,” so she should pick something else.
Christmas with Carlie Page 18