Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology

by Christine Bell

  The butt of the rifle came out of nowhere. She brought up her arms to block it, but it glanced across her cheek, cracked against her wrist. Pain radiated up her arm, but she couldn’t give into it. She raised her gun toward the shadow of a man, but before she could fire, the deafening report of a rifle echoed through the foyer, and the shadow dropped.

  She pivoted to see Erich lower his gun, nostrils flaring.

  “I told you to stay with Lopez,” she snapped, holding her arm against her stomach as if that would stop the throbbing.

  “Your dad has it,” he said easily, crossing the foyer to flick on the light. The man on the floor moaned, and Erich breathed out a sigh of relief.

  Aubrey forced herself to join him, though each step jarred her wrist. The man was shot in the side, a through-and-through, and was bleeding all over her mother’s tile floor.

  “Call for a couple of ambulances, too,” she ordered Erich, too loud because her ears were ringing, and bent to staunch the flow of blood from the man’s side. Her own pain made her want to pass out, but she couldn’t let these men die, this man in particular. She didn’t want Erich to endure what she had. “Bring me towels in the meantime.”

  The smell of blood was overwhelming, so incongruous with the Christmasy scents of her mother’s house. She bit back bile and the wish for a drink.

  Her mother was the one who brought her towels and helped keep pressure on the wound while her father and Erich tended to Lopez. Finally, finally, sirens sounded in the distance. Aubrey wanted to let herself relax, but she had to keep it together and brief the sheriff. He listened quietly while Daryl the deputy guided Lopez to the patrol car and the paramedics tended the partner. Even though he never once looked at her arm, he nodded toward it as he turned to leave.

  “You need to get that looked at. Erich, get her to the emergency clinic before she passes out. I’ll take care of these two.”

  She didn’t say anything as Erich drove her to the clinic on the outskirts of Cascade, her parents in the back seat behind them. No one spoke. He wondered where her mind was right now. He’d asked her a couple of times if she was okay, but she’d only snarled at him, so he wasn’t asking anymore.

  He sat in the waiting room of the limestone building alone, staring at the muted television mounted on the wall, playing one of those twenty-four hour news programs. Before she’d gone back, she insisted her parents be examined for any injuries or signs of stress. Her parents were released before she was, both healthy but tired, and her father asked if Erich could drive them home. He didn’t want to leave Aubrey, even though she’d held him at a distance when he tried to keep her company in the exam room.

  The trip to the ranch and back seemed interminable, though the Cavanaughs seemed grateful for his effort. Mrs. Cavanaugh looked ready to drop, and Erich wondered if the doctors had given her a sedative.

  He wondered if they’d give Aubrey one, and if she’d take it. He hoped she was sensible. She had to be in some pain.

  Dawn was breaking when he pulled into the clinic parking lot. He’d expected to find Aubrey waiting for him, but when he asked the nurse at the reception desk, she told him Aubrey had been released but had gone back into the hospital.

  His skin chilled. Only one place she could be.

  “Is the sheriff still here?”

  “Up on the third floor. One of the guys they brought in is in surgery.”

  His guy, likely, based on the bullet wound. He nodded and pushed away, heading toward the elevator.

  Just as he suspected, Aubrey sat in a low-backed padded chair in the darkened surgical waiting room, her head against the wall, her arm in a bright purple cast resting against her stomach, her eyes closed. He saw the sheriff down the hall, studying something on the wall. The older man nodded a greeting, but stayed where he was.

  Erich crossed the room to sit in the chair beside her and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  “You should go home and get some sleep. Sheriff Doherty will take me home,” she said without opening her eyes, or turning her head in his direction.

  “Nope.” He folded his hands over his stomach because he wanted nothing more that to reach for her, and knew she wouldn’t allow it, not right now.

  “You should have listened to me,” she said, her voice tight. “If you had listened to me, and stayed with Lopez, we wouldn’t be going through this right now.”

  He didn’t want to fight her. He was tired, she was tired and stressed, so he’d just let her go. “You needed help.”

  “I could have taken care of myself.”

  “But I was there, and you didn’t have to.”

  She opened her eyes then and sat forward in her chair. “And if this guy dies in there, you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life? Do you want that?”

  He couldn’t help himself anymore. He curved his hand around the back of her head and looked into her eyes. “If it means that you’re safe, you’re damned straight. I’m glad I didn’t kill him, but if it meant protecting you, I’d shoot him through the heart.”

  Tears sheened her eyes and she closed them again, breaking his hold to sit back. “Trust me. It’s not worth it.”

  “You are,” he insisted. He took her good hand in his and was glad when she didn’t pull away.

  She was sleeping against his shoulder when the surgeon emerged from the operating room to give them the thumbs up. Only then would Aubrey let him take her to his place, where he tucked her in and went to work.

  But when he returned that night, all he found was a note.

  Erich,

  I’ve gone back to Houston with the prisoners. Don’t worry

  about me. Everything is going to be okay.

  I need to be home for Christmas.

  Aubrey.

  No “love,” no “dear,” no explanation of where she thought home would be. He crumpled the note and tossed it against the window.

  6

  Aubrey’s stomach tightened with each mile closer to Houston as she rode in the prisoner transport. She didn’t technically have to come to process Lopez and his partner, whose name was Mark Quintanilla. But this had been her case and she wanted to wrap it up.

  Then...

  Then, what? She felt no joy going back to Houston, to the job she’d worked so hard to advance in, the job she’d sacrificed so much for. Her tangled thoughts drifted again and again to the ranch, in particular Erich’s house, Erich’s bed, Erich.

  She would never change her life, her ambitions for a man the way her mother had. But suddenly those ambitions weren’t as important as love, as family, as having a life, a real life. Her mother had thrived in that life. Aubrey discovered she did, too.

  She’d spoken to Sheriff Doherty as they prepped the prisoners for transfer. His daughter would be taking her leave of absence soon, as her pregnancy advanced, and he’d have an opening in his department. He didn’t outright offer it to her, or even suggest it, but she was pretty sure that was the reason he’d brought up the topic.

  The idea was taking hold pretty solidly. She’d never thought she could picture herself settling down in Cascade, but after the Christmas festival and spending time with the sheriff, with her parents, with Erich...

  She knew it wouldn’t always be like that, that Christmas made people sentimental, made everything seem like a fantasy. But as they crossed into the Houston city limits with the two gang members in the car, stress squeezed her temples.

  And then walking into the precinct half an hour later, her stomach tightening at the stale odors of fast food and sweat and cynicism. God, she’d let that attitude take over her life the past few years. Was the damage permanent?

  Her fellow officers greeted her warily. Of course they would. The last time they’d seen her, she’d been in sorry shape. And then she’d been sent off like a weakling. She returned now in a position of strength, having wrapped up the case, returning with two prisoners.

  She realized, as she looked around at the other cops, though admittedly
not her shift, but she had no real friends in the department. She’d seen the TV shows, of course, but in this department the competition was stiff, and she was a woman. This might be the twenty-first century, but some places remained a good ol’ boys club.

  She was pretty sure she didn’t want to fight it anymore.

  That was her mindset when she returned to her apartment, her quiet, Spartan little apartment that had absolutely nothing of her. Even her bedroom at the ranch had more personality. She’d put off hanging pictures—the few she had—thinking she’d get around to it. But she’d lived here eight months and never did much more here than change clothes.

  It was time for something new. And maybe that something new was the life she’d walked away from twelve years ago.

  Christmas Eve, and no sign of Aubrey. Erich filed into the big limestone church with the high ceilings and elaborate altar for the midnight service. The scent of cedar mingled with candle wax and incense had always soothed him before. This year, it gagged him. There were three denominations in Cascade, so the tradition for people to attend midnight services at their respective churches, then everyone went to the VFW for a big community breakfast before heading home.

  Erich wished his cooking shift was this year so he would have something to do with his hands instead of twisting himself up over whether Aubrey was coming back. He hadn’t heard from her, and he didn’t think her parents, who sat in the pew in front of him, had, either. She’d been gone three days. He didn’t know, maybe it took longer than that to wrap up a case, but it was Christmas, and damn, they had a lot to celebrate. He would never in his life forget the sight of her shooting Lopez, never forget the sound of her arm breaking when Quintanilla cracked his rifle butt against her.

  And she’d thought he could stay still and let her face the danger alone.

  He rubbed his eyes until he saw stars, as if he could erase that memory.

  “Hey,” Deke greeted, a little shaky on his crutches in the aisle with milling people. “Got room for one more here?”

  Erich did, but had fantasized it would be Aubrey coming up to sit with him, not a broken rodeo man. Still, he scooted over and made space for his friend.

  The service started, voices lifting around him in Christmas carols. He’d envisioned this night so differently, with Aubrey beside him, her hand in his. He might even have the courage to sing in front of her.

  The minister took the podium after the song, and motioned for everyone to sit as he began the service, asking everyone to bow their heads.

  At the back of the church, the big door creaked open. A tingling of awareness went through him, and he turned to see Aubrey coming up the aisle. His pulse kicked up and he wanted to make room for her, but the row was packed.

  She looked so damned tired, and hurting, her casted arm tucked tightly against her belly. She gave him a small wave and a half-smile—not the greeting he’d hoped for—and slipped into the pew next to Sheriff Doherty and his family, slightly behind him to the left. Deke nudged him and he grunted back. Erich knew he should be paying attention to the service, but he couldn’t stop watching Aubrey with the sheriff. She leaned over and spoke to him, low, then watched his face. The older man frowned, then his face relaxed and he nodded, then patted her on her good arm. Police business? But why couldn’t she wait until after the service to talk to him?

  He turned back to the minister, only glancing over his shoulder occasionally, but anxious for the service to end.

  When it did end, the crowd swarmed for the door, eager to get to the community breakfast. Erich stayed where he was because Deke waited for the crowd to thin before he risked walking out on his crutches. Erick watched Aubrey move through the crowd like a fish swimming upstream. His hopes sank when she passed him to greet her parents. She held onto her mother’s arms and said something, and Erich wished he could read lips. Aubrey’s face had softened, brightened, and she looked more like the young girl he’d fallen for. Her mother gave a cry and pulled Aubrey close, then her father wrapped both women in his arms and guided them out of the church.

  Erich’s stomach dipped as he watched her go. So he wasn’t as important to her as he thought. He was ready to skip the breakfast and head home.

  Then she turned her head and winked at him over her father’s shoulder.

  He followed at a distance as they walked into the VFW hall, past the wide Christmas tree decorated by the kids of the town, with paper chains and glittery ornaments. Instead of lining up for breakfast, she sat with her family at one of the long plastic tables set up in the hall and decorated with poinsettias and garland. Erich didn’t follow. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, he knew she needed to be the one to make the move. He wasn’t going to push himself into her life.

  He and Deke stood in line behind Glory Aberdeen, who was a couple of years behind him in school, and single. She wasn’t above a little flirting, and he smiled to be polite, though his attention was on Aubrey.

  “Shame to be alone on Christmas morning,” Glory was saying, and he snapped his attention back to her when she put her hand on his arm.

  Deke cleared his throat, and Erich turned with his full plate to see Aubrey standing in front of him, arms folded, brows lifted in amusement.

  “Where’ve you been?” he asked, a little irritated that she’d caught him unaware.

  “Takes a long time to pack with one hand.”

  He stiffened. “Going back to Houston?”

  She smiled at him, a serenity in her eyes that he’d never seen, not when she was a teenager, not these past few weeks. She put her hand on his arm. “Coming home.”

  If she’d stood in front of the room and done a tap dance, he wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Back to Cascade?”

  “The sheriff is going to need a new deputy when his daughter goes on maternity leave.”

  “And that’s something that you’d like?” he asked, battling back the hope that she might come back, might come to stay.

  “I asked for the position, which comes complete with handcuffs, I made sure. I’ll turn in my resignation to the HPD tomorrow, on one condition.”

  “One condition?” He edged closer, bending his head, no longer battling the hope when he saw the smile curve her lips.

  “That you’ll be around, see what comes up?”

  He shoved the plate at Deke and curved his hands over Aubrey’s hips, drawing her close. “What comes up?”

  She rose on her toes so her breath gusted against his lips. “You know, if I’ll be able to keep my cop voice in practice out here.”

  He wanted to kiss her, wanted to seal the deal, but he had one more question. “You think you’ll be happy going from rancher’s daughter to foreman’s woman?”

  She drew back a bit, eyebrows lifted. “I won’t be the foreman’s woman. I’ll be your woman.”

  Then she kissed him, arms tight around his neck, the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten.

  About the Author

  MJ Fredrick knows about chasing dreams. Twelve years after she completed her first novel, she signed her first publishing contract. Now she divides her days between teaching elementary music, and diving into her own writing—traveling everywhere in her mind, from Belize to Honduras to Africa to the past.

  She's a four-time Golden Heart Award finalist, a three-time Epic Award finalist, and a USA Today bestseller.

  Connect with MJ online.

  Website: http://mjfredrick.com

  Blog: http://mjfredrick.wordpress.com

  Newsletter: http://bit.ly/1hf1goB

  Facebook: http://on.fb.me/16D4kvK

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/MJFredrick

  A Liberty Christmas

  Leigh James

  1

  SEAN

  “You don’t have to fuss over me,” I said, “seriously!”

  Liberty grunted and blew her curls from her forehead. “I’m not fussing,” she insisted, “I’m helping.” She adjusted the star on top of the tree again, until it was
just right.

  “John wouldn’t want you up on that ladder. Not in your condition.” I helped her as she carefully climbed down, and then put her hand over her pregnant belly.

  “So don’t tell him,” she snapped. “Geez! All you guys do is get me in trouble these days!”

  I laughed. “You don’t need any help getting in trouble. You’ve been in trouble with John since the day you met him.”

  “Ha-ha,” Liberty said. She eased her way onto my new couch. She was nine months pregnant, but she hadn’t let the baby slow her down at all.

  Much to the chagrin of John Carter Quinn—Liberty’s husband and my boss.

  “So…are you okay? Really?” she asked, watching my face. “The holidays can be a tough time…”

  “I told you—I’m fine. I’m happy to be here.” Still, I balled my hands into fists as I regarded the tree. This was going to be my first Christmas alone since things fell apart with Megan. Liberty was all over me, making sure I was settled in my new house and not moping.

  I wasn’t moping. I was too busy balling my fists.

  She kept rubbing her belly. “We’re happy to have you here. It’s really becoming a compound now, huh?”

  “One big happy family.” I looked out at the grounds, which held the big house where John, Liberty and John’s dad, Ian, lived. Across the field was the house that Meredith and Matthew had moved into, and on the other side in the distance were the barracks, where our team lived while we trained in between assignments.

  “Will you come to dinner?” she asked. I reached over and helped her up.

  “Aren’t you getting tired of company?”

  “Never,” she said, and grinned at me. She tossed her curls over her shoulder and waddled toward the door. “I have to get going. I’m meeting Ian to go over some last minute stuff in the nursery.”