The Christmas Bride - A Western Romance Novella (Book 4, Burnett Brides Series)

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Those kisses were what sustained him. If those kisses weren’t real, then nothing he’d ever believed about love was true.

  Gus started laughing. “Wow, I never thought she’d let you kiss her.”

  “You know, Gus, how when Beatrice used to bake those apple-cinnamon pies you loved, you’d go in the kitchen and you’d smell the aroma of the pie, and you couldn’t wait to taste it just as soon as it came out of the oven? You’d savor the thought of that pie all day.”

  Eugenia would either be the best apple pie he’d ever experienced, or Wyatt would find himself eating crow. One of the two.

  “So Eugenia smells like apple pie.”

  “No. But it’s the anticipation. It’s the chase, the thrill of the hunt. The knowing that when she gives in, it could be the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted.”

  “And what if she doesn’t give in?”

  “Then you’re stuck with me telling you stories of Beatrice’s apple pies and how wonderful they were.”

  Gus picked up the spoon and filled his plate with the casserole. He took a bite, and Wyatt watched him lick his lips and take a second bite. “Damn, this is good. Forget Eugenia and marry Myrtle.”

  Wyatt took a bite of the casserole. “That woman can cook.”

  “We don’t even know what Eugenia’s cooking tastes like. She could be a terrible cook.”

  “Her cooking skills don’t matter.” Hopefully tomorrow at church, Myrtle and he together would motivate Eugenia, make her see that she was denying them a chance. If not, it was time to move on.

  #

  Sunday morning after the church service, Eugenia glanced around the congregation looking for Myrtle. She had to know if she’d delivered the casserole to Wyatt. As she looked toward the doorway of the church, she saw them.

  For a moment her stomach plummeted, and her heart started galloping faster than a wild stallion as she watched Wyatt hand over an empty casserole dish to Myrtle. She smiled up at him, and he seemed to thank her for the dish. She turned her back to Eugenia and took Wyatt by the arm, and then the two of them strolled from the church.

  Eugenia sank down on the nearest bench. Her chest squeezed painfully tight, and tears pricked her eyelids.

  What was wrong with her? This was exactly what she wanted. She didn’t want Wyatt in her life. She didn’t need him. She’d said so over and over.

  Yet there she was wanting to blubber on like a heartsick calf, crying out in distress because she’d matched up Myrtle and Wyatt.

  “Mom, you okay?” Travis asked. “Rose is ready to go. I think we’re going to go to the café for lunch.”

  For a moment, she sat there as the realization came to her that she’d been enjoying Wyatt’s flirtation. She’d been enjoying his attention. She’d miss his kisses.

  “Huh?” Eugenia said as she stared up at her son. He looked so much like his father that she often thought it was Thomas she was staring at.

  “Lunch. We’re going to go to the café. Are you all right?”

  She glanced at the entryway of the church, happy to see that Wyatt and Myrtle had moved out the door. There was no reason for her to be upset. They’d only done what she set in motion. She’d given up Wyatt Jones to another woman because of her own stupid pride.

  “Mom!” Travis said again, this time more urgently.

  She waved her hand at him. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, you’re not acting like yourself, or maybe you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means can we please go so that I can take Rose and the baby to the café,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

  “I can’t go to that café,” she said adamantly.

  “Then you’re going to have to wait outside, because I’m taking my wife and daughter out to lunch,” Travis said, staring at her as if she were going senile.

  Eugenia grimaced. It wasn’t often that he took them to lunch at the café, but she was so afraid she’d find Wyatt there with Myrtle.

  “All right, let’s go. But if Wyatt…”

  Travis held up his hand. “Unlike my mother, I refuse to play matchmaker, so I don’t want to hear your Wyatt stories.”

  A few minutes later, Travis led them into the café with Rose following him, the baby in her arms, and Eugenia behind the two of them. She glanced around the café, hoping not to see Wyatt and Myrtle, but there they were like a man and wife sitting together at a table.

  “Mom, come on. They’re seating us.”

  She held her head high, her back ramrod stiff as she walked through the restaurant until she heard her name.

  “Eugenia.”

  Dear God, Myrtle was calling out to her? Myrtle, who probably thought she’d snagged the hottest man in town. She turned toward her and played like she’d just seen them.

  “Myrtle, I missed you at church this morning. And Wyatt. Look at you and Myrtle.”

  “Eugenia,” he responded, his eyes barely meeting her gaze.

  “How was the casserole?” she asked directly at Wyatt.

  “Delicious,” he said, his honey-brown eyes staring at her and sending daggers into her bruised heart.

  What had she done?

  “Good. I always knew Myrtle was a great cook. Well, I best be going. The family is waiting for me. See you at rehearsals on Tuesday.”

  “See you then,” he said.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Myrtle,” Eugenia said and walked away from the table, her stomach clenching tighter than any cinch she’d ever used on a horse. If she made it to the table without throwing up, it would be a miracle.

  What had happened? When had she begun to care for Wyatt? She didn’t want another woman sending Wyatt casserole dishes.

  Oh God, what did she do now?

  Chapter Six

  Eugenia hurried from the cold into the crowded church hall. The first blue norther of the season had blown in, reminding them it was winter in Texas. Before now, the weather had been warm enough that a lightweight shawl would suffice, but no longer.

  She hung up her coat and watched as the children, already gathered into their perspective groups, practiced. She could hear the choir rehearsing the songs they would sing and the three wise men acting like boys in the corner.

  Wyatt came around the corner with his arms loaded down with firewood. “Afternoon, Eugenia.”

  “Afternoon, Wyatt. Thanks for filling up the woodbox for us,” she said, her heart contracting at the sight of him.

  Gazing at him, she felt such a fool. Such an idiot to have let Myrtle have him. But until there was a ring on the widow Sanders’s finger, he was still fair game.

  “Least I could do. How else do you need me to help out?”

  She glanced around and noticed her wise men were acting foolish in the corner. “Could you work with the wise men tonight? Go over Frank’s lines and make certain the others know when to come in..”

  He nodded. “As soon as I get the stove fired up, we’ll get started.”

  He headed over to the woodbox in the corner and dumped his load of wood. The man was still as strong as an ox, his muscles clearly defined even through his shirt.

  She walked over to the children playing Mary and Joseph. “Okay, let’s get started so we can get out of here at a decent hour.”

  Audelia Bryant walked over to Wyatt. “Mr. Jones, I need to speak with you.”

  “Go ahead,” Wyatt said, standing up after filling the wood stove with logs to keep the room warm.

  “My daughter Ruth should be playing Mary, not Bethany. She’s talented and beautiful. I’m appealing to you make this a better play.”

  Eugenia felt the hair on the back of her neck rise to attention. She took a deep breath, determined not to react to this overbearing mother. The woman knew they were in the same room and could hear every word each other said. She was deliberately causing trouble. How Eugenia reacted would be taken home by the children to their families and repeated over and over. She’d learned after the first year to never
say anything she didn’t want repeated around these children.

  Wyatt smiled at Audelia. “I’m here at the request of the committee to oversee the production financially. I make none of the cast decisions. Those are handled by Eugenia. I can only refer you to her.”

  “Fine,” she said and walked away.

  Eugenia watched as Wyatt turned and smiled in her direction. He touched the tip of his finger to his nose in that silent salute he often gave her, and she smiled, her nerves dancing down her spine in tune with “O Holy Night.”

  Even Ben Carter, the previous man in Wyatt’s position, had never given her this much control. Wyatt seemed to tell everyone she was in charge, acting as if he was only there to help and pay the bills.

  Warmth spread through her, chasing away the chills, and she couldn’t keep from smiling. Wyatt let her have control, never forcing his opinion or suggestions down her throat until she wanted to choke, like so many men were apt to do.

  Could he be different from Thomas? Could he be less demanding and controlling?

  Bethany tugged on her skirt. “Are we going to practice today?”

  She shook her head. “You’re right. Let’s get started. I want to hear your parts.”

  The children began to say their parts, and Eugenia tried to concentrate, but images of Wyatt plagued her.

  Beatrice, Wyatt’s deceased wife, had been her friend. She’d had the usual complaints about her husband—he left his clothes on the floor, didn’t pick up after himself—but she’d never said anything that Eugenia could remember about him being controlling.

  The children had finished their lines and were staring at her expectantly.

  “Let me hear you say the lines again,” she said, knowing her mind wasn’t listening.

  Their daughter had grown up, married, and moved before her mother passed away, and she knew that Wyatt went to see her a couple of times a year.

  They were both alone. They were both family oriented. They were both stubborn, and there was that spark that when he touched her, her lady parts sang three-part harmony.

  While the children said their parts to her, she couldn’t help but watch Wyatt as he practiced with the wise men.

  “Mrs. Burnett, did we do okay?” Timothy asked.

  She glanced around. “Yes, yes, you did fine. Let’s try again.”

  He was a good man. Would she let him slip away from her without exploring what a relationship with Wyatt would be like? What if marriage to Wyatt would be different from that with Thomas? What if marriage to Wyatt was exactly what she’d hoped for so many years ago? What if Wyatt loved her even more deeply than Thomas had?

  #

  When the last child ran out the door to meet his parent, Wyatt was alone with Eugenia for the first time in days.

  He watched her putting on her coat and hat. “Are you going to be okay getting home? It’s almost dark.”

  Eugenia laid her hand on his arm and turned her sapphire eyes on him as she smiled. “I’m just going to Tucker and Sarah’s tonight. I’m not driving back to the ranch.”

  “Good. Is your buggy outside?” he asked, wondering if he should drive her home and then come back.

  “No. I walked over,” she said. “The girls and I are doing some Christmas preparations tomorrow just in case the baby decides to arrive early. We’re spending the day together in town, so I thought I’d stay the night.”

  “Would you let me escort you to your son’s house?” he asked, wanting to see her home safely but also interested in checking out her temperature since the Myrtle lunch.

  She’d said nothing, but yet she seemed more responsive to him.

  “Thank you, Wyatt. I’d appreciate that.” She smiled at him in a way he hadn’t seen since that first time he’d returned all those casserole dishes.

  He held the door open for her as they left the church. He thought about picking up her hand, but before he could make the move, she slipped her gloved fingers into the crook of his arm. She smiled at him, and he noticed the way her eyes twinkled with merriment.

  The cold air whipped around the buildings, causing her to shiver. “I think winter has arrived.”

  “It does seem to look that way,” he said. Why did she seem more receptive tonight? Whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to push his luck. He liked it when they were relaxed and at ease with one another.

  “I have to thank you for standing up for me today. This is twice now you’ve told a parent that I’m in charge of the Christmas program. Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing that needs a thank you. You are in charge of the Christmas program. I’m just here to help you.”

  She looked at him, her eyes puzzled. “Why aren’t you trying to take control?”

  With sudden clarity he realized that Eugenia needed to feel in charge. This pageant was hers, and if he’d even tried to suggest any changes, she probably would have shown him the door. Was this her problem with marriage?

  Their heels made clomp, clomp, clomping noises on the wooden sidewalk as they walked past the hotel into the heart of the city. He stared at her, wondering where that question came from.

  “Why do you think I want control? Do you think I know anything about how to get these kids to perform on stage without making an ass of me?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Most men like to be in charge.”

  “Hell, I could barely get my wise men to read their parts tonight. Johnny was too busy making rude noises while Frank was trying to read his part, and Junior kept making goo-goo eyes at Ellen. I don’t know how you do this year after year.” He watched the lights of dusk shimmer in her gaze, and he wondered if they had made any progress or were still sitting at the starting gate.

  Eugenia laughed, the sound a tinkling noise in the night air. “You have to smile at them and say, ‘You have a choice—you can practice, or I’ll find another kid to take your place.’”

  She was laughing with him. She was smiling, and they were having fun together, and when he reassured her she was in charge, she relaxed.

  “I’ll remember that the next time I’m working with them,” he said, snuggling into Eugenia. “Why do you think I would want control of this circus act?”

  Eugenia sighed and glanced up at the stars in the night sky. “A lot of men think that women don’t have a lick of sense and can’t get out of the rain without their help. I’ve never been that type of woman, and I resent being treated that way.”

  “Have I ever treated you like that?”

  She stared, considering him. “No, you haven’t.”

  “Women are soft where men are hard, but I know from watching Beatrice that she could motivate people better than me.”

  “Yes, Beatrice was good like that.”

  “So did you truly believe I was trying to take over your Christmas pageant?” he asked, smiling down into her shimmering blue eyes, wanting to get lost in her gaze, knowing not now, not yet.

  “I didn’t know. But I thought you would tell me how to run it since I’m just a poor little woman who needs guidance.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  Wyatt threw back his head and laughed out loud in the cold night air. He enjoyed this Eugenia. This was the woman he wanted to marry.

  “I feel sorry for any man who believes that about you. Once you got ahold of them, they would be sitting a little shorter in the saddle.”

  Eugenia laughed. “Well, it’s true.”

  Wyatt stopped on the wooden sidewalk and turned toward Eugenia, wanting to kiss her, but still holding back. “I think you’re a smart woman who has done the Christmas pageant for enough years to know what she’s doing. You don’t really need me, but it makes me feel good to be there helping you.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock, and he could see her contemplating everything he’d just said. He was tempted to kiss that open mouth, but before he went any further, he needed to know that she wanted him to pursue her. He was done pursing a woman who didn’t want his attention.

  Myrtle’s casserole
dish still hung between them.

  He turned, and they walked down the sidewalk again, and this time she was quiet as they strolled along.

  “So how are the wise men doing?” she finally asked.

  “I think we should rename them the wise-ass boys. Because how these three are ever going to pull off offering frankincense and myrrh to the baby Jesus is beyond me.”

  She chuckled. “Did you hear the choir tonight? I think they finally have “O Holy Night” down.”

  “Yeah, now only three more songs to learn,” he said. “You know I may never ever be able to listen to this music again.”

  “Give it a month. It will finally leave your head,” she said.

  “It’s hard to believe that Christmas is only one week away.”

  “It’s hard to believe we’ve already been rehearsing for two weeks, and they’re not any further along,” Wyatt said, wondering how she would manage to get the children ready.

  “Give them time. It will come.”

  “Now see here, this is why you’re program director and I’m just over the finance. I would have already run out of the building screaming.”

  She laughed. “We’re at my door.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  God, he wanted to kiss her good-night, but he wasn’t making another first move. This time it was up to her.

  “Wyatt, I owe you an apology. My grandson had no idea what he was saying or even what the concept of marriage is at his age. I should never have come to your place in such a snit.”

  “Why thank you, Eugenia. It was innocent on your grandson’s and my part.” She was apologizing, and it gave him hope. Maybe there was still a chance for them.

  She smiled. “Yes, I believe it was. Though my grown kids got quite a chuckle hearing me explain the different kinds of love to him.”

  Wyatt smiled and wondered if they’d somehow turned a corner. If somehow she would give him permission to court her. But he was not going to bring it up. He’d gone to the line, and now it was her turn.

  “At least you explained love to him. A life without love would be rather bleak, don’t you think?”

  She gazed at him. “Wyatt, you surprise me at every turn. I would never expect a man to have such a conscious understanding of love.”