His Christmas Cinderella

by Christy Jeffries

  Mr. Sanchez gave his youngest child a dismissive glance before continuing. “Like I was saying, one is a nine-year-old boy who writes a postcard to Santa Claus every year asking for a puppy. He’s up to five dogs now and, according to his latest postcard in the North Pole drop box, he’s asking for a sixth. Speaking of which, I need to give his parents the heads-up.”

  “You could’ve given me the heads-up that you already knew,” Camilla muttered under her breath.

  “Is this story going somewhere, Dad?” Dylan drummed his fingers on either side of his plate.

  Mr. Sanchez took another sip of wine, apparently not the least bothered that everyone else at the table was now sitting on the edges of their seats as he took his time with his long-winded explanation. “The second one is the Montgomerys’ daughter, who is away at Montana State right now. Her name is spelled J-O-R-D-Y-N-N, though, so I guess that doesn’t count.”

  “Dad,” Dylan interrupted. “None of this counts unless you tell us who the other Jordan in town is.”

  “Then there’s the Jordan whose legal physical address is technically 408 Old Bronco Highway. However, he receives all his personal mail at the Taylor Beef headquarters.” Mr. Sanchez’s words hung in the air as the remaining family members pieced it together.

  Jordan, though, wasn’t about to be ashamed of who he was. He sat up straighter and draped one arm across the back of Camilla’s chair. This time when she put her hand on his thigh, it was not only reassuring, it was almost possessive. As though she was also claiming him in front of her family. His chest filled with pride, even as he squared himself for the onslaught of opinions that would surely follow. After all, the Sanchez family usually had plenty of opinions.

  “Daaang,” Dante said slowly as his brow creased into a V above his nose. “You’re that Jordan Taylor? And nobody thought it was something to share with me and Dylan and Felix?”

  Felix didn’t seem upset, though. In fact, he’d found a sudden interest in the cranberry sauce that had been completely ignored until now.

  “Hold up.” The legs of Dylan’s chair screeched against the hardwood floor as he shoved himself away from the table to jump up. He pointed an accusing finger at his oldest brother. “Felix did know! That’s why he chose Jordan for basketball the very first night. You went to high school with him and knew he held all those athletic records. You’ve been keeping Jordan to yourself all this time.”

  At that, the entire table erupted and instead of anyone berating Jordan for keeping a secret—not that he’d technically kept it a secret—they all accused each other of knowing exactly who he was, but never discussing it.

  Voices were raised and overlapped other voices, and the only thing he could make out was that everyone kept their knowledge to themselves because they were afraid of how the others would react if they’d known he was one of those Taylors. Except for Felix, who kept the knowledge to himself so he could keep beating his brothers on the basketball court.

  Since none of the arguing was currently directed his way, Jordan used the ongoing distraction as an excuse to pull his vibrating cell phone from his back pocket. It had gone off several times during the meal, but he hadn’t wanted to be rude and answer it at the table. When he saw the text from his father, though, he nearly groaned.

  “What is it?” Camilla whispered and leaned toward him. He showed her the display screen.

  You need to get here and deal with your sister.

  “You should probably go,” Camilla said. Was she saying that because she wanted him gone? Because now that her family knew who he was, she was suddenly embarrassed of him? Or maybe she wanted to protect him from the fallout—when all the Sanchezes stopped arguing among each other and decided to team up to demand that she stop dating him. Because despite their teasing and trash talk, Jordan knew without a doubt that this family would band together to protect one of their own.

  Not that Camilla needed to be protected from him.

  Regardless of what was transpiring with Camilla and her family, though, Jordan couldn’t stay here and leave Daphne hanging.

  “You’re right. I really should go.” He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Any chance I could talk you into coming with me?”

  “It sounds like a private family matter. I’m sure your father wouldn’t want me there.”

  And just like that, the arguing at the table stopped suddenly and everyone shifted curious eyes to Camilla and Jordan.

  “I’ve got a text from my father.” Jordan held up his phone. “Something has come up and I need to go home.”

  “Oh, did Daddy summon you back to the ranch for pumpkin pie?” Dylan asked, but the normal teasing didn’t seem so playful now that they knew who his father was.

  Or maybe this rush of defensiveness pressing against Jordan’s chest was due to the fact that he had, technically, just been summoned.

  Either way, now wasn’t the time for Jordan to show weakness or shame. All of the Sanchezes appreciated people standing up for themselves and if he truly wanted to fit in with them, he needed to give as good as he got.

  So he looked Camilla’s brother in the eye and said, “Don’t worry, Dylan. I’ll give you time to digest all that turkey and then I’ll come back to demonstrate that box out reversal move on the basketball court.”

  Dylan snorted, but had a smile on his face. “Oh, I don’t need a demonstration. In fact, I plan to show you a thing or two.”

  Someone suggested that it might snow tonight, making the court slippery. This caused another eruption of smack talk between all the brothers with Mr. Sanchez playing referee. Once again, Jordan used the distraction to talk privately with Camilla. To hopefully convince her that it would actually be more beneficial to have her with him.

  “Daphne knows you, so taking you there with me will make her feel like she has more support,” he told her. “Plus, my father typically causes less of a scene when there are witnesses around. I told you how he is about appearances and all that.”

  What he didn’t tell her was that she would likely be jumping feetfirst into the Taylor family drama. His dad and sister loved each other, but they’d been butting heads for a long time now, the buildup of tension only making their battle lines more rigid. The showdown would likely be an emotional tug-of-war.

  If Camilla could survive that, then he was certain she would finally realize that there was nothing else keeping them from being together.

  * * *

  Camilla’s stomach did somersaults as they drove up the main driveway of the Taylor Ranch. While it felt good that Jordan wanted her by his side, she was certain that nobody else in the Taylor family would be happy to see her.

  The first sign that something was wrong was when they pulled up to the main house and Daphne’s vehicle wasn’t in sight.

  “She must’ve already left,” Jordan said as he put his car in Park.

  He took Camilla’s hand as they walked toward the ten-feet-high custom-made oak front doors. From far away, the house had been impressive. Yet standing on the sprawling log-beamed porch, which was easily bigger than the entire cabin they’d shared in Great Falls, was downright overwhelming.

  The massive entryway they passed through was larger than most hotel lobbies and way better decorated. She barely had time to take in the tasteful and obviously expensive furnishings as Jordan pulled her behind him toward a dining room with a table long enough to seat at least thirty people.

  Judging by the abandoned silver place settings, china plates and crystal goblets, there had likely been at least that many people here earlier. But now only Cornelius sat at the head of the table, his pretty young wife to the right of him.

  “Look who finally shows up,” the silver-haired patriarch barked. Holding court in his throne-sized chair, Cornelius Taylor seemed as though he relished his role of monarch of his own royal kingdom.

  “What’s
going on?” Jordan asked, his jaw tighter than Camilla had ever seen it.

  “What’s going on is that Jessica spent several weeks planning this dinner and it was totally ruined.”

  Jordan’s fingers were rigid against hers, but he kept her hand in his. “How was it ruined?”

  “The table was set with place cards and everything. Your uncles and cousins and all of our most important neighbors and friends were here. But when it was time for Gallagher to serve the meal, those two seats at the end—” Cornelius pointed to the opposite end of the table “—were still empty.”

  “I really didn’t mind having empty seats.” Jessica tentatively patted the older man’s hand as it gripped the ornate wood of his armrest. Camilla wanted to tell poor Jessica that her husband clearly wasn’t offended on her behalf. He was annoyed that his plans had been thwarted. That he hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

  “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Jessica.” Jordan bowed his head toward his young stepmother. “But I told my father last night that we were having Thanksgiving dinner with Camilla’s family.”

  Cornelius’s frown got even deeper, if that was possible. “And I told her that you would come to your senses and stop chasing tail long enough to do your family duty.”

  Camilla gasped, tasting a bitterness in her throat. She’d been mentally prepared for the old man to suggest that she was after Jordan for his money. But she hadn’t quite expected him to insinuate that Jordan was only using her for sex.

  Before she could defend herself, Jordan had shifted himself in front of her. His intent might’ve been to block her from his father’s attacks, but now all she could focus on was the tension stretching across his shoulders. His voice was cold and rock-steady when he said, “I’ve already told you that Camilla is much more than that, so I suggest you watch what you say.”

  Okay, so maybe some of the bitterness building inside her was eased when she heard Jordan readily jump to her defense. His warning to his father definitely gave her a boost of courage to step around his blocking back, resuming her place by his side. Just in time to see Cornelius roll his eyes to the monstrous crystal chandelier above.

  “My apologies, miss.” Cornelius gazed down his nose at Camilla, his tone sounding anything but apologetic. “I’m sure you’re not just another one of my son’s passing fancies, and I have no place pointing out to him how much he stands to lose by getting involved with the wrong girl.”

  “Just stop with the passive aggressive comments, Dad.” Jordan shoved a hand through his hair. “You always go for the hidden insult when you know you can’t win. This is why we didn’t come tonight. I didn’t want to subject Camilla to your whole dog and pony show. It’s your own fault that you still set a place for us at the table after I clearly told you we wouldn’t be attending.”

  She tapped Jordan on the back and pointed to the names written on the two place cards disposed of on the side table. Jordan Taylor and Daphne Taylor. “I don’t think anyone was actually expecting me to show up.”

  Instead of relishing the fact that she’d been right all along, that she would never be welcomed in Jordan’s world, Camilla’s heart was trying not to sag like the used linen napkins carelessly discarded along the once carefully laid table.

  “Do you know what it’s like to have my own two children, my very own flesh and blood, turn their backs on me?” Cornelius continued on unfazed, underscoring the fact that Camilla’s personal feelings—even her presence—were secondary to the real reason he’d summoned Jordan out to the ranch like a naughty child. “And on Thanksgiving, of all times, when everyone is here to witness it firsthand?”

  “Where’s Daph, Dad?” Jordan’s biceps was a coil of tense muscle, his hand clenched beside hers. “Your text made it sound as though I needed to come out here immediately to talk with her. You made it sound like something was wrong.”

  “It is!” Cornelius slammed a fist on the table, rattling the crystal water goblet near him. “She refused to come to dinner unless Jessica added alternative dishes to the menu. What was that damn concoction she mentioned? Plant-based turkey? As if we’d ever serve anything so ridiculous under this roof.”

  “It really was no problem,” Jessica murmured, patting her husband’s hand again. “I could’ve had the chef prepare—”

  “No.” Cornelius put his palm up, dismissing his wife in midsentence. “This vegetarian phase of hers has gone on long enough. First she makes a mockery out of me—out of our family legacy—by running that Hippie Hearts animal shelter, whatever the hell that is. Then she wants to sit at my table, in front of all my friends, like some sort of social justice warrior lording her meatless righteousness over us. She’s turning me into a complete laughingstock.”

  “Dad, you’re really overreacting. Daphne’s dietary decisions have nothing to do with you.”

  “We make our living by turning cattle into steaks and she wants to make her living by saving them. It goes against everything we stand for. Taylor Beef money was good enough for her growing up, but now she wants to publicly turn up her nose at us. When are you going to wake up, son? This is what women do. They take and take until they can’t use you anymore.” His scathing words even made his young wife’s mouth drop open. “Even your sister—”

  “I’m going to cut you off right there, Mr. Taylor,” Camilla interrupted. The anger roiling through her had propelled her forward to stand in front of Jordan. “I don’t know what kind of people you’ve surrounded yourself with before now, but that is not what women do. And if your neighbors and so-called friends allow you to talk about other women this way, then they are not your true friends. They’re your minions. I’ve heard you make several disparaging comments about charity cases and chasing tail, and someone needs to tell you once and for all that blaming women for your unhappiness reflects more poorly on you and your decisions than it does on the women in your life. In fact, thinking everyone is only interested in your money doesn’t make you sound powerful. It makes you sound scared.”

  Cornelius’s face had gone a blustery shade of red and his eyes narrowed into angry slits. Yet he kept his voice measured as he said, “Thank you, Carol, for your insight into something that is absolutely none of your business. This is a family matter and you would do well to take yourself back to the Valley.”

  “If you know that I’m from the Valley, sir, then you also know damn well that my name is Camilla. So let’s not play this game where you pretend that you haven’t had a team of paid informants looking into my background the second you found out that Jordan and I were in a relationship.”

  “We’ve moved on from dating to a relationship now?” Jordan whispered out the side of his mouth. Camilla whipped her head in his direction and he twisted his lower lip. “Never mind. Keep going.”

  “Well, whatever you guys want to call it,” Cornelius said as he wagged a finger between them. “This thing between you two won’t last.”

  “Now, Cornelius...” Jessica tutted quietly. It wasn’t really a reprimand, but her attempt to at least redirect her husband, to nearly stand up to him, energized Camilla. Even if she ruined things between Jordan and his father, at least she might have empowered another woman.

  “Maybe it will last.” Camilla let the threat hang in the air for a few seconds. “And maybe it won’t. But either way, the future of our relationship won’t be something you can control. Contrary to whatever bull you’ve been feeding yourself, Mr. Taylor, your children have their own minds and their own personalities and their own journeys. Jordan is no more like you than Daphne is, and he’s a better man for it.”

  As soon as Camilla said the words aloud, she realized that she really believed it. Jordan was nothing like this bitter, high-handed braggart.

  Cornelius stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. “I’m not going to sit in my own house and listen to some waitress tell me how I should run my family.”

  Camilla, t
hough, couldn’t let him storm out of the dining room without one last parting shot. “Well, even this waitress knows that you can run a business, but you can’t run a family. As soon as you make peace with that, you’ll be a happier man.”

  Her heart was thudding in her chest when Jordan slipped his hand from hers. Had she been out of line? Had she gone too far? Instead of following his father, though, he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Exactly three weeks after first feeling like a gatecrasher at one of their fancy parties, Camilla was actually being escorted off the Taylor Ranch.

  Possibly for good this time.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m sorry.” Camilla finally broke the tense silence when Jordan turned onto Old Bronco Highway. “I really overstepped. I never should have—”

  “Are you kidding?” Jordan cut in. “You were magnificent. Hardly anyone ever stands up to my old man like that and I’ve never been more impressed. So please don’t be sorry for telling him what very few people have the guts to say.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t apologizing for what I said to him.” The edges of Camilla’s tongue were still tingling with defensiveness, though she’d lost some of her earlier sizzle. “I was expressing my condolences that you have to deal with that guy on a regular basis.”

  Jordan made a scratchy chuckle at first before bursting out in a full laugh. Like a cork being popped out of a champagne bottle, Camilla felt some of her own tension fizzle with his release.

  He caught his breath long enough to ask, “Did you see his face when you told him he looked weak and pitiful?”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Camilla giggled, feeling all that earlier pressure lifting from her shoulders. “I turned to Jessica to see if she was going to start fanning him with her napkin because he looked like he was going to blow a gasket.”

  He erupted into another fit of laughter, which was so contagious, she couldn’t help but join in. Even though it felt wrong to be laughing at his father’s expense, relief washed through her, knowing that Jordan wasn’t angry with her.