Small Town Christmas

by Jill Shalvis

  Sam didn’t have to worry about looking “sore afraid.” Instead, she had to worry about looking like a complete idiot in the sheep costume Rachel Dean had given her. At least she wasn’t the only one. Being that Bramble was a cattle town, the shepherd’s herd was made up of a good twenty townsfolk and a billy goat that was eating the hem of Moses Tate’s wiseman robe as Moses slept in one corner of the stable.

  “Good Lord.” Shirlene Dalton sashayed up in a pretty white dress and huge wings, looking more like a voluptuous Victoria Secret model than a member of the heavenly host. “If Cindy Lynn doesn’t put a sock in it, this angel is going to deliver something more than good tidin’s.” She winked at Sam. “Hey, honey, I heard you were back in town and pretty as ever.” She reached out and adjusted the sheep ears on Sam’s white hoodie. “Which is saying something in that getup.”

  Sam grinned. She had always liked Shirlene. Of course, everyone liked Shirlene. The woman was not only beautiful. She was sweet and fun-loving. Not to mention filthy rich. At the thought of all her oil money, Sam’s grin faded.

  “I was sure sorry to hear about Lyle’s death, Shirlene,” she said.

  Shirlene’s smile never even drooped, but her pretty green eyes held a sadness that spoke volumes. “Weren’t we all, honey. Weren’t we all.” She flapped a hand that glittered with diamonds. “But let’s not talk about me. How have you been? I can’t tell you how proud your daddy is of you graduating with honors from that big, fancy school. And I know he’s hoping—as we all are—that you’ll start up your practice right here in Bramble.”

  For Sam, opening a practice in Bramble would be like a dream come true. Or half a dream. Her gaze swept over to the stable.

  Ethan was there comforting the animals that had been tied to the rails of the wooden structure. He usually wore overalls, but tonight he was dressed in pressed jeans, a Western shirt, and a blue jean jacket. With the black felt hat pulled low on his head, he looked more like a cowboy than a farmer. At least he did until the baby pig popped his head out of the top of the jean jacket. Then Ethan just looked heartbreakingly perfect.

  “If you feel that way about Ethan, honey, why’d you stay away so long?”

  Sam looked back at Shirlene. Either Shirlene was extremely observant or Sam wasn’t as good as she thought she was at hiding her feelings. Of course, it made no difference now. Tomorrow Sam would be on her way back to New York. The thought caused a lump to form in her throat that not even a hard swallow could remove.

  “Maybe because Ethan doesn’t feel the same way,” Sam said as she plucked at the lumpy cotton batting that covered her sweatshirt.

  “Then change his mind.”

  Sam shook her head. “You don’t know Ethan. He might be sweet, but he’s as stubborn as they come.”

  Shirlene snorted. “Believe me, honey. There was no one more stubborn than Lyle Dalton. The man was convinced I was too young for him. And if I’d waited around for him to make the first move, I’d still be waitin’.” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows lifted. “Men don’t know what they want until you show them.”

  That was easy for a woman who looked like Shirlene Dalton to say. One little twitch of her hips made men go wild. Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as well endowed. Besides, she’d thrown herself at Ethan more times than she could count without a reaction, and her self-esteem couldn’t take any more rejection.

  “Shirlene!” Cindy Lynn’s voice echoed across the front lawn of the church. “I realize you think you deserve special treatment because you’re hostin’ the big Christmas party tomorrow night. But tonight I am in charge, and you need to be with the other angels on the bleachers instead of cavortin’ with the sheep.”

  Shirlene’s eyes narrowed. “If her husband doesn’t wise up and slip that woman a Xanax, I’m going to do it for him. Because if anyone should be tranquilized, it’s Cindy Lynn.” She sashayed off just as Rye Pickett came hustling around the corner of the church.

  “Pastor Robbins is comin’!” he yelled. “He just pulled up into the back parkin’ lot and should be here any second.”

  “Places, y’all!” Cindy Lynn’s voice screeched even higher.

  Not wanting to bring on Cindy Lynn’s wrath, Sam hurried to get to her flock on the other side of the stable. Unfortunately, as she came around the corner of the wooden structure, she ran smack dab into Ethan. His hands slipped around her waist, and she was lifted clean off her boots. As always, the closeness of his large body sucked all the wind right out of her.

  Usually, he released her as soon as he touched her. But this time, his hands tightened on her waist as he continued to hold her inches from the ground. Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, his deep green eyes stared at her as if it was the first time he’d seen her.

  “Sam.” The word hung in the cold night air between them, not quite a question and not quite an answer.

  “It looks like Ethan was just a late bloomer.” Rye Pickett’s voice cut through Sam’s daze. “First, I saw him at Bootlegger’s with Marcy, and now he’s hittin’ on her sister.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Ethan had been at Bootlegger’s with Marcy?

  Anger replaced desire, and she shoved against his chest until he released her. She might’ve given him a piece of her mind if the outside lights hadn’t clicked off, throwing the front lawn of the church into darkness. The darkness worked much better than Cindy Lynn’s screeches. Before Sam could utter a word, she was being pushed along with the crowd as people hurried to get to their spots.

  Sam no longer felt like being part of the Christmas celebration. But just as she started to make her way through the flock, the doors of the church opened.

  “Hit it, Darla!” Cindy Lynn yelled through the bullhorn.

  The outside lights came back on along with about a zillion others. Twinkle lights covered all the bushes and trees. Multicolored lights lined the windows of the church. And a bunch of Japanese lanterns hung from the eaves of the stable Kenny Gene had built. A stable that was painted bright Bramble High purple and framed by fake palm trees covered in more lights.

  “ ‘And there were in the same country,’ ” Cindy Lynn’s voice rang out. “A country no doubt very similar to the great state of Texas.” There was a mutter of “amens.” “ ‘Shepherds abiding in the field, keepin’ watch over their sheep by night.’ ”

  The townsfolk sheep all started to baa, except for the goat who continued to munch on sleeping Moses’ robe. “ ‘And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them.’ ” When nothing happened, Cindy yelled louder. “And an angel of the Lord came upon them!”

  A spotlight suddenly shone on the stable. And with a creak of rope, Kenny Gene rose above the huge star on the very peak. He might’ve looked pretty authentic if not for the cowboy hat and the shovel of poop in his hand.

  “I ain’t ready,” he said. But when Cindy Lynn hissed at him through the bullhorn, he stopped looking for a place to drop the pooper scooper and spoke his lines.

  “Don’t be scared, for I bring y’all tidin’s of great joy that will be to all folks. For unto yew is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign onto y’all; Yew shall find the babe wrapped in swallowin’ clothes and lyin’ in a manger.”

  On cue, Mary leaned over the tiny wooden manger. Since Faith and Hope looked identical in their costumes, Sam wasn’t sure which Mary it was until Slate Calhoun stepped up. He looked down at Faith with so much love that tears welled up in Sam’s eyes. But they evaporated quickly enough when Faith lifted the baby Jesus from the manger.

  It had to be the scariest-looking doll Sam had ever seen in her life. With its vacant glass eyes and sneering expression, the porcelain face could only be described as demonic. And Rufus Miles, who was perched on Hope’s hip waiting for his turn at baby Jesus, must’ve thought so too. Rufus took one look at the doll and let out a bloodcurdling howl that sent shivers up Sam’s spine.

  The howl frightened Lowell’s cow so much that he jerked back on h
is lead rope and pulled a two-by-four loose. The board slapped Ethan’s donkey, Buckwheat, in the butt, causing him to kick the back wall of the stable in self-defense. Japanese lanterns wobbled as the entire stable fell backward, the top point of the star of Bethlehem catching Kenny’s arm and sending animal poop showering down. But it wasn’t the poop that had the people scurrying for cover as much as the icy rain that suddenly fell from the sky. Josephs scooped up Marys, and along with wisemen, shepherds, sheep, and the heavenly host, made a mad dash for the church while Cindy Lynn screamed through the bullhorn.

  “Come back here! We ain’t finished!”

  But a freezing rainstorm beat out a live nativity scene any day.

  Instead of heading inside, Sam chased after the goat that was following Moses Tate into the church, still munching on his robes. And once she had the goat by his halter, she turned back to the collapsed stable to help Ethan with the other animals.

  Lowell’s barn was only a block and a half away from Main Street. But by the time she finished helping Ethan get the animals safely inside, she was soaked to the skin and freezing. She would’ve headed home for a hot bath if Ethan hadn’t been blocking the only exit.

  He held his hat in his hand, his wheat-colored hair wet and in need of a good trim. Droplets of water dripped down his cheeks and a square jaw that was as stubble-free as it had been earlier that morning. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again.

  “What, Ethan?” Sam propped a hand on her hip, squeezing water from her jeans. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly lost the ability to talk to me. Especially since it’s only women you’re interested in that seem to make you stammer.” She lifted her eyebrows, but the effect was lost beneath the soaked, sagging hood. She shoved it off her head. “Of course, I guess you didn’t worry about talkin’ when you were at Bootlegger’s with my sister.”

  A baffled look spread across his face, and he rubbed the back of his neck. At one time, the gesture had been endearing. But now it just annoyed her.

  “I guess not,” he said. “Seein’ as how me and your sister didn’t do much talkin’.”

  Could blood vessels pop from mere anger? Sam thought it might be possible as she stared at Ethan and tried to keep from racing over and slapping him upside the head.

  “Now, you and me, on the other hand,” he continued, completely unaware of her anger, “we’ve always been able to talk up a storm. Something I’ve missed more than I was willing to admit.” He glanced up at her, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Are you gonna hit me, Sammy?”

  It took a real effort to unclench her fists.

  “No, Ethan,” she said. “I’m not going to hit you. I’m going to leave.” She walked around him. But before she could get through the huge opening, the wide wooden doors slammed shut. At first she thought it was the wind. Except when she tried to push them open, neither would budge. She pressed an eye to a knothole just in time to see a devil in a red dress race off in the sleety night.

  “Marcy!” she yelled as she rattled the doors. “This isn’t funny.” But her only answer was a shriek of laughter, followed by a “Merry Christmas, baby sister.” Sam turned to find Ethan smiling. “You think it’s funny, do you?”

  “A little,” he said. “And the Sam I used to know would’ve thought it was funny too. Did you lose all your humor?”

  “No. I just acquired some taste.”

  Ethan’s eyes ran over her soaked sheep sweatshirt, and his smile got even bigger. “I can see that.”

  She ignored the comment and turned back to the doors, but no matter how much she shoved, pulled, and kicked, they refused to open. Finally, she gave up and slumped down to the dirt floor. The baby pig came trotting over and sat down only inches away, staring at her with eyes that seemed a little too human. She might’ve questioned Ethan about the animal if the wind hadn’t blown through the cracks in the door, causing her to shiver until her teeth chattered.

  “We’d best get you out of those clothes,” Ethan said. And when her gaze snapped up to him, he blushed. “Uhh… I mean you’d better get out of those clothes before you catch a chill.”

  “Are you proposing that I run around buck naked, Ethan?”

  His face got even redder, but the look that entered his eyes wasn’t what Sam would call embarrassment. More heat with a whole lot of sizzle. “Didn’t you once ask me to do the same thing?”

  “I did not,” she protested as she climbed to her feet.

  His blond eyebrows hiked up. “Sutter Springs. Your senior year.”

  The memory snapped back and hit her square between the eyes. “Oh. That time.” She turned away and walked over to Buckwheat’s stall. She held out her hand and waited for the donkey to nuzzle it before she stroked his big, soft ears. “That doesn’t count. I was only a stupid kid who thought that skinny-dippin’ might be fun.”

  The popping noise of snaps coming undone had her looking back at Ethan. Her breath got hung up in her chest. She had seen Ethan without a shirt many times over the years—farm work could be hot and sweaty. But that didn’t prepare her for the sight that greeted her now. The skinny body of a boy had been replaced with the hard body of a man, and it took every ounce of willpower Sam had to keep her mouth from dropping open—or her body from melting into a puddle. Ethan had muscles. Lots and lots of tanned muscles.

  “Fun.” Ethan tossed the shirt into the corner with a flex of bicep. “I’ve been hearing that word a lot lately.” He sat down on a milking stool and tugged off his boots before he removed first one sock and then the other. His big feet had her thinking about what Marcy had once told her, which in turn had a question popping out of her mouth.

  “Is that what you were doing with Marcy at Bootlegger’s, having a little fun?”

  His gaze moved back over to her, and his head cocked to one side. “Me and Marcy? I wouldn’t call it fun—” A grin split his face. And Ethan’s smiles had always made Sam’s stomach feel all light and airy.

  “Are you jealous, Sam?”

  “Yeah, right.” She turned back around to pet Buckwheat. “Why would I be jealous of you and my sister, Ethan?” Suddenly, Ethan was standing right behind her, his body radiating heat like a thoroughbred after a long, hard ride.

  “I’ve never had fun with your sister, Sam,” he said in his soft, soothing voice. “In fact, the only woman I’ve ever really had fun with is you.”

  Sam tried to remember how to breathe. “Me?”

  He reached over her shoulder and stroked a hand down Buckwheat’s forehead, and she found herself transfixed by the gentleness of his long fingers. “You don’t think we had fun together?”

  It was hard to think when surrounded by hard muscle and the scent of damp male. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s just that I didn’t think you… noticed.”

  His hand slipped from Buckwheat and curled over the edge of the stall door. “I noticed. It seems I noticed a lot more than I thought I had.” His breath fell warm against the top of her head. “I came by your house the night you left.”

  She turned around to find him much too close. “You came by my house?”

  He nodded. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “But we’d said goodbye earlier that day.”

  He swallowed hard, and she watched his Adam’s apple slide up and down his tanned throat. “Not the way I wanted to.”

  Her stomach did a crazy, little quivery thing that had nothing to do with her soaked sweatshirt. “And what way was that, Ethan?”

  Heartbeats ticked off what seemed like a year’s time before he lifted his hand and stroked a trail of heat down the chilled skin of her cheek. Using just one callused finger, he traced over her lips, pressing the bottom one down gently before letting it spring back up. She sucked in a breath and tried to steady her suddenly tipsy world, but then those long, golden-tipped lashes lifted, and she was lost all over again in the deep green of his eyes.

  “Did you miss me, Sam?” His words came out rough and hushed. “Did you miss me as much a
s I missed you?” He dipped his head and replaced his finger with his lips. He was hesitant at first, taking small sweet sips that had Sam swaying on her boot heels. His large hand cradled her chin as his other dropped from the railing and settled on her hip to steady her.

  “You’re soaked,” he whispered against her mouth. “Lift your arms.”

  She obeyed without the slightest hesitation. Numerous questions nibbled at the edges of her mind. But for now, she was exactly where she’d always wanted to be: in Ethan’s arms. Although, once he pulled the hoodie over her head, she couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of embarrassment. Especially when his gaze settled on her simple white bra. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath the thick fringe of his lashes, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was thinking when his nostrils flared and his hands tightened in fists on her wet sweatshirt.

  Only seconds later, the sweatshirt was tossed aside, and she found herself in the heated embrace of a man who was through with sweet kisses. His lips settled over hers in a hot, hungry assault that held not a trace of shy farm boy. While his tongue brushed against hers, his large hands encircled her waist just above the low rise of her jeans and tugged her closer to the heat of his wide chest. The kiss seemed to last for hours, yet ended much too soon.

  He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers as their heartbeats echoed each other’s. “Now, that was fun.”

  Chapter Five

  Ethan planned on having a lot more fun. But then Sam shivered. He might’ve thought it had to do with his kisses if goose bumps hadn’t covered the arms looped around his neck. Figuring his fun could wait, he pulled back. He glanced down at the soft flesh that swelled above her bra, and it took closing his eyes before he could finally step away. A stack of horse blankets sat on the seat of an old tractor, and he lifted a couple off the top.