The Christmas Challenge

by Sinclair Jayne

  “You make ‘trust’ sound like a dirty word.”

  “To me it is.” Tanner was living in a dream world. She couldn’t trust her cowboy. She couldn’t trust any cowboy.

  “Then that’s your problem,” Tanner said. “You make Luke uncomfortable.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘I make him uncomfortable.’”

  Probably because he still wants me, Tucker thought with satisfaction. Forbidden fruit was the sweetest. She knew that firsthand.

  “You stare at him like you’re still hungry.”

  Starved. But she wasn’t going to do anything about it. No way would Tucker try to seduce Luke Wilder away from her sister. Tucker felt almost virtuous. She didn’t realize she was smiling at the thought of her reformation because after this past month she was done with married men, until Tanner cut into her thoughts with the precision of a surgeon.

  “Not funny, T. Luke told me he was beginning to have feelings for you years ago, but those died long ago, but now you don’t seem ready to let it go. So yeah, it’s awkward for him with you being back. And I’m not thrilled either. You haven’t spoken to Luke in nearly five years and then you came onto him at the rodeo. Now you’re home for a month. Seems like you are up to your old tricks.”

  Tucker couldn’t even speak. Tricks? Like she was a show horse? Not thrilled to see her? Tanner was the one who’d always called her several times a week at least. Texted several times a day, often more. Until Luke. Tanner really thought that she’d come home to cause problems, to try to seduce her almost husband weeks before their wedding.

  “I came home,” Tucker said. Tanner and their dad were always nagging at her to come home and now she had. She needed a safe place to regroup, and she wanted to be with her sister. “For you, not for Luke. I’m happy for you.” Her voice sounded raw. “I am. Luke is a great guy, and I know you love him, but,” she paused, finally seeing an opening to voice her concerns to her sister, who was not as experienced and far more vulnerable. “I just think getting married so soon is kinda weird. Maybe you should wait because…”

  Tanner held up her hand in a “stop” motion, but Tucker continued on. Tanner was her sister. She had to be honest. “You and Luke have only known each other four months and he’s…”

  “Stop. I didn’t ask your opinion about Luke. You didn’t bother to get to know him much five years ago. And you haven’t been around him since, so your opinion means nothing to me.”

  That stung.

  “You pregnant?”

  “No, Tucker. I love Luke. We fit. He makes me happy. I make him happy. We work. We have similar goals.”

  “That sounds so boring,” Tucker yelped. Luke was hot as hell and physical and had creative moves and stamina in bed, but that wouldn’t last. Definitely not worth marrying anyone over. Soon he’d just want her sister to make him a sandwich and get him a beer while he watched football and she cleaned up after his screaming, demanding spawn.

  “Boring to you, but my life is so much fuller with him in it. He’s kind and supportive and makes me laugh, and I make him laugh.”

  Tucker stared at her sister in dismay. Luke definitely had assets, but those were not ones she would list. Not even in the top ten. What was the deal with that? Did they only do it missionary style? How the hell did that go over with Luke? She remembered… Nope. Not going there, but had Tanner gelded the poor cowboy?

  “Luke is warm and solid. I can count on him always. I can tell him anything, share anything, and he can be himself with me too. We want to get married and make a life together. Have kids.”

  “Have you told him you probably can’t have children?” Tucker demanded, because someone had to be the realist here and for once it was her. See? It was good she’d come home.

  “I can probably have kids. The doctors were wrong about everything else they said I might not be able to do.” Tanner’s chin notched up and Tucker knew that meant to drop it or get the silent treatment for weeks, and Tucker had never been able to deal with being shut out.

  “Still, you’re getting married so fast.” She changed the subject back to something that was marginally safer, but at least Tanner was talking now. Not ignoring her.

  “Luke and I talked about it rodeo weekend.”

  “Talked about it?” Tucker was disgusted. “That sounds like a business lunch. Is your marriage just business?”

  “Not at all,” Tanner said coolly and Tucker could hear the unspoken “so don’t get your hopes up” thought pierce her eardrums. “But we will be in business together breeding bulls both for the rodeo and to supply the ejaculate to other ranches once we marry.”

  “Sure it’s not just business on his end?”

  The pissed-off look Tanner shot her would have been funny on a sitcom about sisters, but in real life, not so much. Tucker seemed to always put her foot in it with her sister, but she had to ask.

  “Fine. You’re in love. He’s in love. But why so fast?” That was the suspicious part. Luke loving Tanner was believable. Tanner was smart like Luke.

  “Talon and Colt planned to get married before the New Year so they’d be official when Parker’s adoption was finalized and Luke suggested we get married along with them so we could do it at the ranch. He would have that special moment with his brother, and we would have our memory at the ranch.”

  “The ranch will always be here,” Tucker rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to rush into it. Marriage is… Well, I can hardly say ‘forever’ because obviously it’s not since Mom ditched Dad, but Luke’s a cowboy on the rodeo circuit. He’s going to be gone a lot. And what’s he bringing to the marriage other than the obvious?”

  Tanner shook her head and turned on her heel.

  “Shit. Sorry,” Tucker followed her. Big mouth. Big foot. “It just slipped out, but it wasn’t like I was picturing him naked when I said it.”

  She felt virtuous about that because she hadn’t been. She’d been thinking that Luke was handsome and a superb example of a cowboy but he’d been clothed in her thoughts and instead she’d been thinking about Laird, about what he looked like under his black Henley shirt. Progress!

  “You don’t get it,” Tanner said tightly, and Tucker recoiled at the tears that burned in her sister’s eyes. Tanner didn’t cry ever. “So listen. Simple words. One syllable. I love Luke. Luke loves me. We work.” Tanner’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Dad sold the ranch.”

  Tanner walked off, her movements quick, tense. Tucker stared after her sister feeling like each one of her sister’s spit-out words had been a nail, driving her limbs into the barn floor. Dad sold the ranch? Impossible. The McTavish ranch had been in the family for over a century. They weren’t a founding Paradise Valley family, but they were damned close. Tanner got it wrong. No way was the ranch sold. The ranch was their home.

  Chapter Five

  Tucker was already skating figure eights at Miracle Lake again when Laird arrived. She knew he would come. She wasn’t sure why because she hadn’t had much to trust in life except Tanner and their ranch, but now Tanner could barely look her in the eye and the ranch would no longer be her steady home nestled near the foothills of the mountains. She kept hearing the words: The. Ranch. Sold. Tanner hadn’t explained. She’d had to pester Jorge until he’d finally told her what had been happening over the past six months. She still couldn’t believe it. Her father selling his daughters’ birthright.

  Laird started setting out the mason jars with the candles in them.

  “Can we put them in a path?” Tucker asked, the image in her mind, the symbolism blooming, because if anyone needed a light guiding them forward it was her.

  He skated over, handing her a few mason jars.

  “Show me,” he said.

  The warmth of his voice and his smile washed over her. Someone happy to see her! She smiled back, feeling like this was definitely the highlight of her day. She skated alongside Laird putting down the mason jars that cut a wide, curving path. Then he handed her a fire stick and they star
ted lighting them.

  “This is…” She paused trying to think of how to explain how special this was. How he was such a comfort, not asking questions or judging or demanding. “I love how you are you. No apologies, no pretending to be somebody else.”

  She could sure use some lessons on that.

  “No fun to be someone else. Day didn’t get much better?”

  “No.”

  For a while they skated along the path but also in the darker parts. The flickering candles gave the ice a warm glow, making Tucker feel like she was in an alternate world, that the fears and anxiety that had thrashed around in her head and stomach all day had no place here.

  “This is a bit like a snow globe,” she said, tucking her gloved hand in his. “I feel safe here. Happy. Like when I used to come here as a kid with my sister.”

  They stopped and looked back at the candles.

  “This should be a new Marietta tradition. My favorite part of Christmas is the light,” she said in a rush, somehow wanting him to know that. “The color and the sparkle that cuts through the dark. So bright, promising. The lights always seem like a determined warrior who could slay the dark dragon and extend the power and promise of the day.”

  I’m rambling like an idiot, like I’m thirteen again on my first date for an after-church ice cream with Harry Monroe. Harry’s dead! Don’t think about it. Don’t. Gone forever. No more smile. No more warm eyes or sweet and funny texts late nights when he was on call and I always felt so lost. Don’t think!

  “Was your warrior a woman?” he asked.

  Back to the present.

  Thank you, Laird.

  His voice was so deep and calm like floating in a river. Listening to him soothed her. She felt like he’d kissed the top of her head, even in her slouch hat, but that was probably just wishful thinking. She laughed. “I did used to imagine myself like that,” she confessed softly turning into his body as if it were natural. His arms slid around her and she looked up at him. She loved the way his jaw jutted out, so angular like part of her beloved Absaroka Mountains. And his cheekbones, the hollows they created. Dark brows, thick and straight. His eyelashes were long and curled, almost feminine as if fighting to soften the masculine hardness of his face. And his eyes, they were such a warm brown, heating her through.

  “When I was galloping on my horse I used to carry a small crop that I never used, but I liked to hold it in my hand and imagine it was a sword and I was racing into battle.”

  “And what were you slaying?” The curve of his lips nearly unzipped her brain. His mouth was so beautiful and inviting, drawing her into his heat and escape—but she’d spent her life doing that, hadn’t she? Escaping.

  She planted her skates and put both hands on his chest, feeling steady for the first time today.

  “I’m the only one talking again.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The perfect man,” she mocked, but it could be true. He hadn’t made a play for her, and she still wasn’t sure how to handle that although she should be on her knees thanking the lake and the ice that Laird was not leading her into temptation.

  “I would really love to kiss you right now,” she confessed seeing the flare in his eyes. “And normally I would be climbing all over you like a jungle gym.”

  “That would likely end with us on our asses.”

  Tucker laughed. “I like how you make me laugh and not take myself so seriously, but to answer your question, which may or may not have been a serious one: I think I was slaying myself. My doubts and insecurity.”

  “If only it were that easy,” he whispered. “I think you promised the world’s best hot chocolate tonight.”

  “Only if you confess something.”

  “Confess,” he echoed. “Like a crime or like in church?”

  “Something real,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I need you to be real.”

  They sat on the tailgate of his Jeep this time because it was colder. They’d doused the candles and now sipped the hot chocolate—Tucker had brought cups and whipped cream.

  “I always thought I’d come back to Marietta,” Tucker finally broke the sweetness dancing on her tongue and the peace, her voice like ripples across water. “I know I told my dad and Tanner I wouldn’t, never ever, that I was going to be an actress, live in LA, drive a convertible, God,” she laughed without humor. “That sounds so stupid. Especially for me. I’m still surprised they bought it.”

  “Why’d you say it?”

  “Marietta got so small for me. I got too small for me. I thought if I could be in a bigger town, be somebody else, I’d be happy. I was so defined here.”

  “I can imagine. So acting. You liked or didn’t?”

  “I think if I’d really gone for it, I could have done well, but I didn’t want to give up barrel racing. Or the rodeo. So I was never fully in on that or on acting, and it doesn’t suit me, really. I can’t sit still. I’m hyper. Always on the move. Jumping to the next thing. And photo shoots and commercials are really boring.”

  “I did a photo shoot once for an extreme sports touring company I worked for,” he said. “Never felt so stupid in my life. Primped up like Barbie.”

  “Ken, I hope,” she said, thinking he would be a beautiful model for athletic clothing, but he seemed on a higher plane than objectified commercialism. So was she, but still she had to eat even though she constantly denied herself calories. Tucker couldn’t ignore reality for long. She was going to have to start winning again on the circuit or figure out something fast since returning to the ranch to take over the horse training looked to be out as an option. She tried to talk to her father about the sale of the ranch this afternoon, but he’d ignored her. Brushed her off, climbed in his truck and disappeared for hours, not even coming back for dinner.

  She sipped a little at her cocoa, blew on it, then swiped some whipped cream with her finger and held it out to him, eyes holding his. Something hot flickered there and Tucker felt her whole body leap to life, but then the look was gone, like a curtain pulled, show over, and Laird gently guided her finger to her mouth and watched while she licked it off.

  She would have been hurt and angry if anyone else had rejected her that way, but with Laird it didn’t feel like rejection, more like redirection; but he was still connected, not pushing her away.

  “That doesn’t count as your confession,” she teased.

  She sipped her drink and stared across the lake, remembering chasing Tanner on the ice, always chasing because Tanner had been better, faster, smoother, until the fall.

  “I’ll try to think of something interesting.”

  “Ha! Didn’t do well in school but I’m not stupid.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  She sighed. Most men thought she was just about the good time. The hot times. Impulsive, down-and-dirty sex. She’d wanted them to think that. And the one who hadn’t, she’d thrown away.

  “I did like the horse stunt work,” she said brightly trying to shake off thoughts of Luke. “That was fun, and I was hired for talent and strength. Not my looks or who I was willing to suck off at a party.”

  “It’s not still like that is it?” Laird looked annoyed.

  She laughed. “It can be, but I’d never do that unless I wanted to, and I’d never do it for a job. Give some jerk power over me. See,” she turned to face him, making a goofy face. “Unemployed and proud.”

  “We also have that in common,” he said. “Although I can’t say I’m exactly proud. I have money saved, but like you, I’m not good at doing nothing.”

  Tucker tried to hold herself still like he did. Listen with her ears and her mind and her body like he did. He was after all giving her something she asked for, a confession. But she didn’t think he was simply between jobs.

  “What is it you’d like to do next?” she finally asked as he continued to stare across the small dark iced lake, as if the answer watched them from out there.

  “I don’t know, Tucker. I’ve done a lit
tle of a lot of things, and enjoyed all of them. I worked on a film crew for a survivalist show, been a guide for an extreme tour company where I guided clients on tours mountain climbing, rock climbing, white water rafting. I’ve been a cook on a fishing boat in Alaska, taught surfing, skiing, learned how to make beer, and interned with a vineyard manager and wine maker in Australia and Tanzania.”

  “What the hell are you doing in Marietta?” Tucker demanded, awed by his experiences.

  “Playing detective.”

  “Who are you looking for?” A thrill went through her. A mystery. Maybe something she could help him with.

  “Me.”

  *

  Laird sucked in a breath. He waited for her barrage of questions at his cryptic statement. Instead, she just slipped her hand in his and her beautiful eyes, which broadcast so much emotion he felt he could see her soul and her energy shining in them, searched his.

  “You’re right here,” she whispered. “Right here.”

  And for the first time in months he felt like he could breathe without feeling constricted by his anger and confusion and hurt that seemed like sadistic triplets out to taunt and torture him, keep him unbalanced and unable to sleep. He felt centered and in the moment, something his usual yoga and meditation and exercise had been unable to help him with since he’d learned that he was not who he thought he was, that his life had been based on a lie. Lie by omission was still a lie.

  He kissed her cheek.

  “Yes I am. With you. Shall we make our wishes?”

  “Secret or out loud?”

  “What’s your preference?”

  “I’d like to make mine out loud,” she said. “I’m not really a private person.” She bit down on her lip. “At least that’s what everyone will tell you. Tanner’s the private one. I’m wide open, but…” She trailed off looking embarrassed, which seemed so uncharacteristic given how bold she was with her ideas and in her speech that he had no idea what she was going to say. He loved that. So genuine. “I’m not really. The real me. If that makes sense.”