The Christmas Challenge

by Sinclair Jayne

  “You’re quite the tigress when you’re pissed. I wish your sister could have seen how sarcastically you pounced although I was expecting a bit more.”

  “Yeah,” Tucker’s inner light dimmed a little. “And I wanted to give it to her, but remember? I’m behaving. Not causing a scene to distract from Tanner’s wedding although Carol will probably already be calling people all over town to tell them that I was humping the temporary ranch cook in the canned goods aisle.”

  “Not a good visual. Or a good verb,” he laughed. “And the produce section promises more erotic possibilities.”

  “Tempting,” Tucker smiled. “But I’m behaving, and spring or summer fruit and veggies are probably better.”

  “What fruit or veggie do you have in mind?” Laird kicked his legs out further and set the seat back a couple of notches so he could relax and watch Tucker. He was enjoying himself. He’d felt so angry and bewildered for the past six months, but Tucker made him feel re-engaged, happy. “I can think of a few that could be worth exploring.”

  “Behaving,” Tucker sang out. She parallel parked the truck as easily as if it were a compact car.

  She turned off the engine and put both hands in her lap, her expression sober.

  “Carol is the town gossip, and she has sweet, concerned snark down to an art form,” Tucker said softly. “But she’s not the only one to dismiss my sister. I haven’t been the best sister. I… Well… I too thought that after Tanner’s accident there was a lot of stuff she couldn’t do anymore or shouldn’t do anymore, and I wanted to protect her, you know, but I don’t think that I went about it in the right way. Everyone talked about her and pitied her, and I felt so guilty for being able to ride and compete and dance and play volleyball at school that I avoided her too. I cut her out.”

  “And now you think that’s why you two are having trouble communicating?” Laird asked.

  Tucker hunched over the wheel and stared out at the cars parked along the street.

  “It’s my fault.”

  It seemed natural for him to rub slow circles between her shoulder blades.

  “Two people make a relationship, Tucker. And from what I see you are definitely trying.”

  “It was my horse.”

  Her voice was barely a whisper. “My fault.”

  He continued to rub her shoulders, choosing his words and then swallowing them. What did he know about healing psychic wounds? Reconnecting with a sibling. He’d been here two days and hadn’t gone to the hospital or the courthouse. Scared of what he’d find?

  Tucker at least was facing her ghosts.

  “I asked her to switch. I was having trouble controlling Windsong, and I wanted to win for once and I thought with her horse Whisper I could only…” she broke off and turned toward him, her eyes bleak.

  “Hey come here,” he pulled her into his chest, inhaling the soft floral fragrance of her hair. The gear ground into his ribs, and he let it, wishing he could absorb her hurt as easily as he could the pain.

  “She never blamed me or Windsong. Never. She kept asking about the horse even though she could barely talk and blood was…” Tucker clenched her teeth. “I still think of that day all the time. How different her life would have been if I hadn’t been nervous and selfish.”

  “You were a kid, Tucker. Tanner’s let it go. Now it’s your turn.”

  Her laugh was brittle and truncated. “She doesn’t have to let go of anything. She’s blameless. And then she was in grad school when Daddy had his accident and she quit to come home and take care of him. I didn’t. I was on the circuit, doing well. I had some commercials lined up. Auditions. Living my life.”

  “And now you’re home helping your sister.”

  “Tucker to the rescue,” she said. “Only you’re doing the rescuing.” Her eyes were liquid with unshed tears. Her hands, that had been clenched in her lap now released and crept up around his neck. Her fingers touched his cheek, then his hair.

  “Thank you for listening,” she said softly. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. Giving. Not taking.”

  “You need to get out more.”

  She laughed, and this time it sounded natural and his heart eased.

  “Give yourself time, Tucker. Change takes patience.”

  “Not my highest virtue,” she smiled sadly, her eyes searching his. “Not even sure it registers,” she told him.

  She was serious. He reached out and touched her cheek, cupped it, savored her softness and her warmth.

  “It’s strange with you Tucker. I feel like I know you. I can talk to you about things that matter. I haven’t ever had that. I like it.”

  “Me too.”

  They sat there. He was touching her luminous, flawless skin, feeling its petal softness to his bones, and time seemed to stand still, like he could stay here forever.

  “I feel like I’ve been a wanderer all my life because I had to get back to this one place.”

  “Back?”

  His hand dropped. She was quick and smart, and he couldn’t believe he had said that. He felt like he could trust her, but could he? His mother had lied to him for nearly thirty years. He had to be careful. Know when to take risks, and this was all too new and different with Tucker.

  And as he sat there, with this gorgeous, gutsy, vulnerable woman in his arms, sharing the tight space in the rapidly cooling off truck, Laird realized this was one of the most intimate moments of his life. And yet he was a stranger to her. Deliberately keeping himself a stranger. Hell he was a stranger to himself. He’d never been a deep thinker or self-reflective. He’d been about adventure, challenge, living life to the fullest and embracing fun.

  Tucker sighed and her body relaxed a fraction more, and then the mood changed. Not sure if it was him or her, but the press of her body began to feel sexual, her warmth penetrated his buttoned flannel with the shirt underneath. He could feel the shape of her breasts, imagine her nipples peaking against him, hard pink responsive nubs that he wanted to see and touch then taste.

  Her lips parted and without thinking he leaned forward, already poised to devour her delicious mouth that he’d had far too many fantasies about kissing. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, but he was hard and aching. He could see the pulse flutter in her neck, and he longed to start there. Nuzzle her softness, nip her creamy skin and soothe it with his tongue.

  Her breath feathered in her throat, and Laird closed the distance and caught that erotic gasp. But before his mouth settled over hers, he jerked himself away and pulled hard on the door handle, and it squeaked like a door in a horror movie breaking the spell. He hauled his ass out on the sidewalk. Tucker looked at him through the open door.

  “Haven’t scared a boy since fifth grade,” she said.

  Laird shook his head, disappointed and amused at the same time.

  “You are a powerful woman, Tucker, who, I believe I heard a rumor, was behaving.”

  “Oh. That,” she mocked.

  “And you are also in need of the hardware store and some lube.” He kicked at the creaky door.

  “One thing I don’t need, Laird Hunter, is lube.” She winked and pulled the door shut with a nails on the chalkboard squawk, leaving Laird feeling totally exposed and slow and stupid on the sidewalk.

  Tucker got out of the truck and sauntered into the liquor store. He followed, trying to adjust his pants and have a stern talk with his libido. He’d so totally walked into that one.

  They bought some wine he planned to use for a few sauces although Tucker seemed amused by the idea. He thought she’d want to pick up some whiskey but she demurred.

  Back in the truck he impulsively asked to see the courthouse as it had occurred to him that while he could use the extra money, and a bit of cover, the job as fill-in cook at the Triple T was going to make it difficult to snoop around the town. Although, judging by Carol Bingley’s keen sense of gossip, asking questions was going to mean he was going to be asked a lot more in return.

  Tucker laughed and pointed acr
oss a large green park. “Hard to miss,” she said.

  “Can we drive by?”

  “You want a tour of the town, huh? You want to walk?”

  Seeing as he was always a man of physical action hiking, biking, surfing, and skateboarding, sitting in the truck and standing around cooking this a.m. had not given him his usual adrenaline or endorphin rush.

  “Definitely. The groceries will be fine in the car,” he said, shrugging back into his coat.

  The sidewalks were mostly clear as they walked down Main Street.

  “Can I treat you to another chai?” he asked seeing the familiar Java Café sign up ahead.

  “Ummm, no thanks,” Tucker seemed deep in thought. “But let’s get you one. It will keep you warm while we walk. I forgot how cold it is here.”

  “Too cold to walk?” he asked quickly. “We can just head back.”

  “No. We’ve got a bit of time before lunch. The salad’s made. You said the chips only needed twenty minutes in the oven. I can’t believe you made real potato chips from scratch. Besides, cowgirls are tough.” She looked pensive. “Wow,” she laughed a little hollowly. “I haven’t said that in a while.”

  “You still compete though, right? Seems like you’re the real deal.”

  “You would think so.”

  He opened the door for her.

  “Your mother did right by you in the manners department,” Tucker noted.

  “She was a stickler about how gentlemen should treat ladies. Pretty old fashioned, but some things stuck.”

  “Laird,” she impulsively stood on her tip toes and placed her hand on his chest once they were in the short line. “You told Tanner you could work the whole month even though most of the ranch hands take time off at Christmas. Won’t your mom miss you at Christmas this year? Are you an only child?”

  “Yes I am,” he said wondering if it was true. Had his twin died as expected? Boy or girl he asked himself for the hundredth time. He still couldn’t believe his mom hadn’t asked. Hadn’t asked what his biological mom had planned to name him. His mother hadn’t revealed much. She’d been too overcome with grief and guilt and fear that her life was ending and her only child was angry and bewildered and having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that his life as he knew it was a lie.

  They entered and ordered. He had a hard time choosing a thread of conversation so stayed quiet and Tucker did too. He liked that about her. She could be silent, not push for answers, and it wasn’t awkward. Nina had always wanted to fill in the spaces with chatter. Random thoughts and observations. Judgments and questions.

  Tucker changed her mind and ordered an herbal tea with a dash of honey.

  “You want something to eat?” he asked. “You didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

  “Not a breakfast person,” she said easily, blowing on her tea a little before adding a lid.

  “At least it’s not my cooking.”

  “No,” she said. “I think you do everything well.”

  Her smile. The sadness in her eyes. The enthusiasm of her unexpected comment caught him off guard. He looked down into her upturned face, the soft, beautiful lines, the dark arched brows, the sparkle of green eyes, the smooth, creamy flawless skin and the deep red curls that tumbled out from under her white knit cap had him undone.

  He almost felt like he needed to fall to his knees and offer some sort of sacrifice so he could keep this feeling. This easy acceptance. This woman who clearly had secrets of her own but was willing to share some of herself and her time and her town and her life with him, a stranger who felt compelled to beseech a lake, call on a legend for a miracle so he could finally find a sense of home.

  He had no idea how long they stood there. He was lost in the warm green of her eyes like an alpine lake he’d swam in in Ouray, Colorado, and thought at the time it was the most beautiful place on earth but it couldn’t compare to the crystal clarity of Tucker McTavish’s green eyes.

  “I like the way you look at me,” she whispered.

  “How do I look at you?” Men must stare at her all the time. She was gorgeous.

  “Like you’re seeing me,” she said, faint color stealing across her cheeks. “The real me. Not just this,” she said, gesturing to her body.

  “Excuse me,” a mom with a stroller was waiting to do something to her drink, and they were standing in front of the condiments. The spell was broken, leaving Laird feeling empty and more than a lot of awkward and wondering what he was going to say to follow that up.

  They walked down Main Street, Tucker telling him about the town. He asked about the signs for something about the Stroll.

  “Oh we’re definitely going,” Tucker said pulling him into the Copper Mountain Gingerbread and Dessert Company. “You can’t miss the Stroll. Even the Grinch would wear a Santa hat at the Stroll. It’s the second-best Christmas tradition in the world.”

  “What’s the first?” He smiled at her enthusiasm.

  “Skating at Miracle Lake late at night with you, votive candles and hot chocolate.”

  “Will that be our tradition?” he couldn’t help asking.

  “I’d like that,” Tucker said softly. She reached up and smoothed his hair back from his face. “I like being with you, Laird. I don’t have many friends.”

  “I can’t believe that,” he said, thinking that with her optimism, her energy and penchant for fun, she would have many friends.

  “Not ones I can trust. The circuit is competitive. Everyone’s trying to one up you, and trying to get and keep sponsors… Well that’s tricky. And auditions and life in Los Angeles don’t really promote true friendship. Intimacy. Everyone’s waiting for you to screw up so they can step in and take your place.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry. My cynical is showing.”

  She purchased Stroll buttons, counting off people on her fingers, which he thought was cute.

  “Another good deed that will probably backfire,” Tucker said leaving the store with the buttons tucked in her coat. “But if everyone gets all jumpy and defensive I’ll donate them,” she declared staunchly.

  “Who will get defensive?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Everyone. I bought the buttons for us, then Tanner and Luke and my dad. Then Luke’s mom and Colt, Luke’s brother, and his fiancée, Talon, and their almost-son Parker.”

  “I gotta ask,” he said as they headed across the street towards a park and the courthouse. “How is Parker an almost son?”

  Tucker laughed. “That did sound weird. I don’t say things right a lot so you’re warned there. ‘Ready, fire, aim,’ that kinda thing. So Talon adopted Parker when her best friend, Parker’s mom, died in a car accident years ago, and now Colt and Talon are getting married so he’s officially adopting Parker as well. Sweet, huh? Total win.

  “I haven’t really met Colt yet, but I heard he was a kick ass sniper in the Army and has fan sites devoted to his awesomeness. But Tanner said we aren’t supposed to talk about it because he’s super shy or devoid of personality or has PTSD or something. But from the quick glimpse I got of him at the rodeo in September before I blew up the world for Tanner, he was a super scorching bad boy, but he looked at me like I was a hot mess, which I was, but hopefully he has a bad memory because at the Stroll he will be getting Tucker two-point-oh.”

  “He still in the Army?”

  “No. Left for love. Now instead of being a bad ass he builds barns, which is super useful around here, but not all that cool. I think Talon should kick his ass back out there with the sweaty men in camo toting metal phallic symbols in the hot sun.”

  “Tucker,” he stopped her progress across the park and cupped her cheeks.

  “Sorry, babbling.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I love the way your mind works, but I think you should be less…” What was a good word to use so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings?

  “Just spit it out,” she said. “My sister says I’m wide open and sometimes I should be a little more shut.”

  “That�
�s one way of looking at it. Okay. We’ll go with that. I think where—what was his name, Cole?”

  “Colt.”

  “At least where his former job is concerned. Soldiers serve and do what they have to do and I think we all need to respect that. And leaving for love or for disability is not something someone else should take lightly as we can never walk in their shoes. Or boots since he was Army and we are in Montana.”

  She breathed in and out in little puffs and he waited for her to explode like Nina would have whenever he said anything that indicated that she wasn’t one-hundred-percent perfect.

  “I think that’s the nicest setback I’ve ever received, Laird Hunter. Thank you.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

  Laird hadn’t been expecting the kiss. A hug maybe. Or a slap. So when her lips settled on his, he inhaled in surprise, and he caught some of her breath and it was so sweet it made him dizzy. Without thinking, his hands settled around her narrow waist, and slid down to the sweet flare of her hips. Her lips were soft and moved with extraordinary care across his, and he felt the moment her mouth parted and her tongue slipped along his bottom lip, eliciting a groan that seemed to come from deep in his soul.

  “Laird,” Tucker whispered. It was like something woke up. Something hungry, and the kiss went from sweet to spicy hot instantly, and Laird pulled her close and held on like he was downing. Tucker kissed him back, her hands in his hair and her body moved against his restlessly making his reaction glaringly obvious.

  “More,” she whispered, the catch in her voice shredding the last of his control.

  He felt desperate. His hands shook as they spanned her hips and moved up her back only to slide back down again, and already his imagination was ripe with visions of her pale form wrapped around his body. Shedding clothes so he could touch her soft skin, his fingers skimmed her waist getting a tease of skin, and he wondered what color her bra was. Lace or satin, and how beautiful her breasts would look spilling out of the lace. God he hoped they were lacy cups.

  But they weren’t alone. They were out in the open. And clearly observed judging from the honk of a passing truck and some good-natured yelling and whistles.