by Jillian Hart
“Which one would Macie pick?” He had no idea. Something tugged on his trouser leg. A little black face peered up at him, green eyes bright with a silent plea. The kitten may have been asking, pick me. Love me.
Not that he was going to let his heart melt or anything, but he scooped up the creature with care. Tiny whiskers twitched, the kitten wriggled, so alive and warm in his hand. Wee claws caught his shirt as the miniature feline curled in, snuggling beneath Michael’s chin.
“I sort of like this one,” he confessed. “But Macie wants a girl.”
“That is a dilemma, sure.” Chelsea rose and came closer, swirling in to pet the kitten. “But there is an easy solution.”
“Huh?” Words temporarily eluded him as he breathed in her strawberry-vanilla scent. The strawberry was from her shampoo, he realized when a lock of her hair brushed his jaw. The vanilla must be from her lotion. He sure wished he hadn’t noticed.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She looked down, laughing at a kitten trying to climb her pants leg. “Get them both.”
“Both? What? No, sorry. Two cats? I can’t do it. I’m not sure about getting just one.” Although he had to admit the little guy was nice. “I’m not an animal person. Never have been. I have no idea what caring for one takes.”
“Two wouldn’t be much more trouble than one.” She cradled the cute calico beneath her chin. “Think of it this way. Macie will get twice the love in return. Doesn’t she deserve that?”
“You are starting to annoy me, Dr. McKaslin.” He shook his head, feigning disapproval. “You make it impossible to say no. I have to take them both now.”
“Awesome. And this way they’ll have each other and won’t be lonely when Macie’s at school.” Chelsea kissed the top of the calico’s fluffy head, so soft, and gently set the baby on the ground. Sweet eyes blinked up at her before the kitten leaped off to join her siblings in play. So cute. Macie was going to get two great new friends. “I’ll get a list of the things you’ll need from Dad’s clinic. They have new-kitten information and care info. It should answer all your questions. If not, just ask.”
“That’s a big relief. You have no idea.” He lowered the kitten he held to the ground, letting him go. The sweet little black scampered away bounding with kitten joy. “Thanks, Chelsea.”
“Hey, I didn’t do this for you. I did it for the kittens. That’s all.” A likely excuse she hoped he would believe. “They need a good home.”
“And Macie needs them.” He flashed a real smile, not just the hint of one, and it curved the corners of his mouth to perfection. The promise of his dimples was nothing compared to the reality of them.
Wow. Double wow.
Was she in trouble now.
Chapter Eight
Chelsea checked her cell as she sat at the desk in her room, where she used to do her homework as a girl and stared at the screen. No messages. That was a good sign for a Saturday midmorning when she was on call. She focused on her tablet computer and the day’s to-do list that was getting longer by the minute. It wasn’t the length that was stymieing her. It was the next item up. Get kitten info to Michael.
Like even thinking of him was a good idea. She shook her head, staring out the window at the horse barn and fenced pasture. The frosted white roll of the Wyoming plains spread out in a glittering, icy wonder. A powder-blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon and she wanted to be out in it, maybe rolling a snowball to toss at one of her sisters or riding her horse. But that wouldn’t get her to-do list whittled down. Work first, then play.
“Hey,” Meg clamored through the doorway. “You busy?”
“What does it look like?” She gestured to her computer.
“Hey, don’t try the I’m-working excuse with me. I saw you staring out the window.” She plopped onto the foot of the bed, her long dark hair pulled back in a single ponytail.
“I wasn’t staring. I was thinking.” About trying not to think about Michael. Chelsea scooted around in her chair, resting her chin on the top of the backrest. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing good. I’m bored.”
“I can give you half my list to do.”
“Funny.” Meg leaned back, stretching out on the bedspread. “Johanna, is that you?”
“It’s me.” Footsteps preceded the youngest McKaslin sister, who tromped into the room and tumbled onto the bed crossways, her sleek dark hair bouncing. “Whew, this feels good. Doing nothing. I could get used to it.”
“Me, too,” Meg agreed, tucking her hands behind her head.
“Guess who I just talked to?” Johanna’s words held a note of delight. And, more likely, doom. The twist of foreboding in Chelsea’s middle warned her as Johanna continued happily on. “Mrs. Collins.”
“Oh, I love her,” Meg enthused. “Her Mrs. Pickles is the sweetest cat.”
“I know. I dropped by to check on her and the kittens at home after they were born.” Johanna levered herself up on one elbow. “Adorable. Mrs. Pickles is one of my favorite patients.”
“Did Mrs. Collins say anything about, let’s say, a handsome doctor stopping by to pick out a kitten?” Meg asked, way too innocently.
“Why, yes, she did.” Johanna’s dark eyes twinkled merrily. “And guess what? She also happened to mention that the handsome doctor didn’t arrive alone.”
“Is that right?” Meg looked as if she were thoroughly enjoying herself. Downstairs the house phone rang, but nobody moved to get it. “Could he have been accompanied by someone we know?”
“As a matter of fact, he was,” Johanna replied. “But did our dear sister tell us about it? No. Not one single word.”
“That’s a shame really.”
“You know, it really is.”
“Okay, Chelsea. Inquiring minds want to know.” Meg rolled over and propped herself up on both elbows. “So, spill. We’re not leaving it alone until you do.”
“That’s right,” Johanna concurred. “You might as well tell us now.”
“I cannot believe you two.” Chelsea rolled her eyes heavenward, hoping for patience. “Honestly, you two are leaping to conclusions. Michael, I mean Dr. Kramer, didn’t know anything about choosing a kitten. I helped him out, that’s all. It was a favor. Colleague to colleague.”
“That’s not what Mrs. Collins said.” Johanna waggled her brows. “Apparently Michael couldn’t stop looking at you.”
“At me? I didn’t notice that. No way.” Honestly. And just because she was blushing didn’t mean she wanted it to be true because, of course, it wasn’t. “Okay, fine, I admit he was looking at me, but I was holding a kitten at the time—”
“She protests too much,” Meg interrupted.
“Way too much,” Johanna agreed.
“That was Dad on the phone.” Sara Beth poked her head in, her rich brown hair clipped back by two barrettes. “He said things are glacial at the clinic.”
“Good, he could use the time off,” Meg piped in.
“So he’s closing up after his current patient and heading over to the tree farm.” Sara Beth crossed the room and plopped into the overstuffed chair by the desk. “He wants us meet him to pick out a Christmas tree. Can you believe it?”
“Oh, poor Dad. He’s trying hard this year.” Meg’s face fell. “I know it’s tough for him.”
“We’re all trying hard this year,” Johanna agreed.
But Christmas would never be the same. Chelsea held back the words she knew her sisters were all thinking. If only she’d taken leave for their last Christmas all together. If she could go back in time, she’d have done it differently. Put her schooling on hold, spent more time with Mom, who despite her fight had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. Everyone had thought there was more time.
“I have an idea.” Johanna popped up on the bed, crossing her legs. “Why d
on’t we ride to town? The horses have been shut up in the stable with the storms and they could use the exercise. We can take the back way along the river to the tree farm.”
“Awesome idea,” Meg seconded, bounding to her feet.
“Let’s saddle up.” Sara Beth pushed out of the chair. “I’ll text Dad. You’re coming, Chelsea. Right?”
“And give up the chance to go riding? You’re kidding, right?” She turned off her tablet, but the next item on her to-do list caught her eye before the screen went black. Michael Kramer.
What was she going to do about liking the man? Well, it looked like she wouldn’t have to solve the problem at this very second. Sometimes it was good to put off what you didn’t want to do. She was more than happy to clomp out of the room after her sisters and down the stairs.
* * *
One good thing about the weekend was spending time with his daughter. Michael folded a load of towels in the laundry room, glad there was another benefit to the weekend. No chance of seeing Chelsea McKaslin until Monday. With the door open, he had a perfect view of the kitchen and family room where Macie sorted through the two boxes of ornaments he’d carried down from the attic.
“I like the sparkly ones.” She held up a box of glitter covered candy cane ornaments. Her cast now sported the new stickers Chelsea had left on his desk.
Chelsea. There she was again, front and center in his thoughts. There didn’t seem to be any way to escape her. Not at all sure what to do about that, he folded the last towel, dropped it into the laundry basket and closed the dryer door.
He shouldered out the laundry room and dropped the basket on the corner of the kitchen island. “Are you ready to go, Mace?”
“Yep!” She set down the ornament with care, surveying the open boxes full of Christmas things. “I got everything ready, Daddy. We can put the tree right here. You’re gonna decorate it, too, right?”
“Right.” His decorating skills left much to be desired, but he’d muddled through last year. He could do it again this year. “Grab your coat and let’s roll.”
“Yay!” She’d already launched herself across the room, sneakers pounding.
Not quite as enthusiastic, he grabbed his cell from the counter, his keys from his pocket and followed his daughter. She sat on a bench by the door into the garage, trying to tug on her pink winter boots. Not easy with a cast, so he knelt to help.
His phone rang. Bad timing, since it was a call from the service. “What is it, Janice?”
“Mrs. Lansing,” the operator answered with cool efficiency. “It’s about Howie.”
“Howie.” He blew out a sigh, thinking of the little boy and his fight with bone cancer, still in the hospital. So many things could go wrong after a surgery like his. Shields up, Michael braced himself for every bad possibility. “Do I need to come in?”
“No, Mrs. Lansing said Howie wanted to tell you his arm feels better now that the cancer was cut out.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” His throat closed up. He couldn’t say anything more, so he disconnected. Emotions threatened, but he couldn’t let one of them in.
“Do I have to go to Grammy’s now?” Macie lifted her chin, bravely struggling with disappointment.
“No, I don’t have to go. We can still get your tree together.”
“It’s our tree, Daddy.” She hopped off the bench, dragging her coat with her into the garage.
His daughter’s gentle correction burrowed through him, leaving him feeling inadequate, the way he had since Diana passed. He set the home security alarm and closed the door while Macie climbed into the backseat. He hurried to help her get settled, the glittery stickers on her cast glinting in the ambient light. He loved spending time with her. Maybe the new memories they could make together would be as good as the older ones, in their own way.
The drive to the tree farm at the edge of town was uneventful. He found a radio station playing Christmas music, according to Macie’s instructions. It looked like he wasn’t the only one with the idea to buy a tree. The place was jammed. Not surprising, since there was only one more Saturday before Christmas.
“Daddy, look!” Macie unclicked her seat belt and clamored out into the cold. She gestured across the lot where four horses and riders ambled to a stop at the edge of the lot.
Wait a minute. His gaze shot straight to the rider in the second position, her light chestnut locks gleaming in the golden sunlight. No, it couldn’t be. His pulse skidded to a stop. His palms broke out in a sweat.
“Macie!” Chelsea’s alto carried to him on the breeze as she dismounted. “Hey, it’s great to see you.”
“Are you getting a tree, too?” Sara Beth asked as her boots hit the ground.
“Yep. Me and my dad.” Macie shot out of the backseat and slammed the door.
Chelsea. What was she doing here? He was not ready for this, not after yesterday. He rubbed his aching forehead, took his time extracting his key and locking up. Four women’s voices joined the girl’s sweet high voice, but only one alto stood out above all the others.
That couldn’t be a good sign. He crunched through the snow around the back of the SUV and closed Macie’s door. With his heart thudding in his chest like a bass guitar, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. The instant he looked up, his gaze centered on Chelsea, her face pink from the wind, blue eyes bright and beautiful.
“Michael.” Her friendly greeting invited him closer, invited him in, as if she didn’t feel the snap of connection that tried to open his heart to her.
Great. Well, at least this was one-sided and much easier to deal with that way. So all he had to do was implement his defensive strategy, that of mind over matter, willpower over emotions, and he’d be fine. Just fine, and forget about the fact it hadn’t worked so well in Mrs. Collins’s laundry room.
“Funny meeting you here.” Chelsea blinked up at him. “I guess great minds think alike.”
“That and it’s the only tree farm in town.”
“True.” She laid a gloved hand on her horse’s nose in an unconscious caring gesture. The tobiano paint, sporting beautiful white and bay patterns, gazed at her with adoration, of course. Who wouldn’t? “Wow, Macie. Your cast is especially snazzy.”
“I know. Thank you so much for them.” The girl proudly showed off her sticker work. “I love all the kittens.”
“Me, too,” Chelsea agreed.
Sara Beth sidled in. “Chels, I’m gonna interrupt and take Rio for you.”
“Thanks bunches.” Chelsea handed over the reins.
“We’ll get her blanketed,” Meg promised brightly. “Right, Johanna?”
“Absolutely. C’mon, girl.” Johanna clucked to the mare and Rio followed obediently. “Macie, do you want to help?”
“Yes!”
“Then come with us.” As they walked away, Meg waggled her brows and Johanna sent Chelsea a wink on their way toward a pole safely off the lot, a good place to tie and blanket the animals.
Her sisters. Chelsea rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong with them. It may be undiagnosable, or mental. Surely they understood she was not ready for a relationship. Not even close.
“I meant to email you the kitten information.” She said the first thing that popped into her head. The trouble was, her brain didn’t seem to be working well. “I didn’t get a chance to this morning. I was on housecleaning rotation.”
And then I wanted to put off emailing you.
“Christmas is thirteen days away. We have time.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “It was nice of you to come with me last night.”
“It was nothing. Just a favor among colleagues.” Or, at least, that was all she would admit. “You must be anxious for Macie to meet her new kittens.”
“I think they’ll make her happy.”
/> “And vice versa.” The sun brightened, radiating around her with a surreal glow. All around them, cars drove into the lot and children dashed ahead of their parents shouting and laughing, but it was all background to Michael. He stayed front and center. All she could see, all she could hear was him.
“I had to coordinate with my folks,” he explained. “Mom is going to keep Macie a few hours on Christmas Eve day while I run over to pick up the kittens. We’ll hide them in Mom’s laundry room for the night and my folks will bring them over early Christmas morning.”
“Sounds like you’ll be able to keep it a surprise.”
“That’s the plan, anyway. Their mewing has the potential to give us away.” Love for his daughter softened his granite features, showing a hint of a tender man with a caring heart.
“Chelsea? Michael?” A woman’s pleasant voice came out of nowhere. The world came back into focus as Dr. Susan Benedict ambled over with a credit card in hand. “Fancy running into you here. You two are Christmas tree shopping, too?”
“Just arrived.” Chelsea wasn’t sure, but was she blushing? Her face felt hot. “It looks like everyone’s here today. It’s a madhouse.”
“It is. Fred is loading my tree for me now. I was lucky to get here early before things got busy.” Susan brushed a lock of blond hair out of her eyes. “So, you two are here together?”
“What? Uh, the two of us? No.” Chelsea’s tongue tied. Did her face feel even redder? “We’re both here, but we’re—”
“Not here together,” Michael finished, looking just as uncomfortable as she felt. “I’m here with my daughter.”
“I’m here with my sisters. And my dad. There he is.” The idea of her and Michael together? Crazy. She so could not imagine it. And yes, her face definitely was blazing red. She could see the tip of her nose as red as a Rudolph’s. Good thing Dad was walking over, the perfect distraction. She waved at the burly, dark-haired man heading her way.
“Hi, Michael, hi, Susan. There’s my girl.” Dark hair thinning on top, round face, ready smile, that was her dad. “Good to see you out and about, Chels. You’re my workaholic.”