Rabbit Creek Santa

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  His wolf provided the answer with a snarl.

  "Ayup," Travis agreed aloud. "That's just too damn bad for GW. If he cared about her like he ought to, he would be here."

  The thought made him pause. Why did it matter? It wasn't like he was planning to move in. Shit, he just met the girl. He wasn't looking for a mate. Maybe Lindy wasn't looking for one either. That thought bothered him more than GW.

  In spite of what he'd said about being from New Hampshire, by the time he got back to the house, he was cold. He must have looked it, too. He no sooner had his coat off than Lindy was there, covering his cold ears with her warm hands.

  "You should have a hat on," she scolded.

  She was probably right, but at that moment, Travis didn't care. Those small hands cupping his ears made him warm all over. She was looking at him with real concern, which just went to prove she really was sweet. He put his hands at her waist, thinking she was just the right height to hold her this way, and smiled down at her.

  "They aren't going to fall off, you know," he said of his ears.

  Lindy looked up when he spoke and their eyes locked. He couldn't blink or look away. He simply stared into those big brown eyes. God, they were beautiful. They were even prettier now that the red had gone away. A man could spend a lifetime looking into those eyes and discovering what secrets lay behind them. Her lips parted just enough to catch her breath or to invite a kiss. Travis' hands tightened at her waist. Lindy jumped and stepped back. The spell was broken.

  "I-I made cookies," she stuttered, taking those warm hands from his ears and moving toward the kitchen, "And hot chocolate."

  It wasn't how he planned to spend his Christmas Eve, drinking cocoa and eating cookies, but at that moment, Travis couldn't think of any place he'd rather be.

  Lindy hoped the flush would clear from her face before she had to turn and face him. She took her time taking the last batch of cookies from the oven thinking the heat from the open door would excuse her red cheeks. What must he think of her? Poor lonely widow ready to throw herself at the first unattached wolf who walked in her door?

  She wasn't like that. She wasn't! She hadn't thought of another man since Joe died. Several single wolvers stopped by her desk pretty regularly to ask about this or that. She knew why they came, but she never gave them any encouragement. She never let them see how lonely she was.

  It was Christmas, and the loneliness always hit harder at the holidays. Peering up into those dark grey eyes with the tiny crinkles at the corners reminded her of what it was once like to be looked at like that. Seeing his tongue moisten his lips reminded her of what it was like to be kissed. She'd wanted him to kiss her. Thank heavens she'd pulled back in time.

  She slid the cookies right onto the plate and added some more from the brown paper that was spread over the short run of counter.

  "You were gone so long, I made two batches." She laughed self-consciously. "Oatmeal and sugar. Not very Christmasy, but it was the best I could do."

  "Oatmeal have raisins?"

  "Half and half." She'd debated whether to add them or not. "Just in case."

  He smiled at that. "Which kind do you like best?" he asked, watching her closely.

  "Raisin?" she answered tentatively.

  "That's too bad," he said. His face fell into a frown and he nodded sadly.

  "Why?" she asked, though she didn't see what difference it made.

  "Because now I'll have to wrassle you for them," he said seriously, "and if I lose, I'll have to eat the plain ones." He watched her, waiting for her reaction.

  Lindy pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. Wise guy. "It won't be so bad," she answered just as seriously. "I'm generous. I'll let you have two, one for each hand." She turned to pour the hot chocolate from the pan on the stove and when she turned back, he was grinning.

  "That's a better deal than Kathy ever gave me."

  Kathy? He had a girlfriend? A mate?

  His grin widened. "My sister. She used to say that all the time. Last apple, last pork chop, last cookie. Wrassle you for it. She used to kick my ass." He chose a cookie from the plate and took a small bite, chewed, swallowed, smiled and took a bigger bite. "Good," he said.

  "Your sister could beat your butt." He was a big guy. How big was his sister or was he joking again.

  "Hell yeah. She was two years older than me. Then when I was around thirteen, I finally pinned her and what happens? My mother yells at me! Shame on you, she says. A boy your size picking on a girl. Wait till your father gets home." He shook his head at the injustice and snagged another cookie.

  "What did your father say?" Lindy had to ask.

  Travis deepened his voice. "Let this be a lesson to you, son. When it comes to women, you just can't win."

  Lindy laughed and forgot her earlier embarrassment. "Any other abusive siblings?"

  While they finished their hot chocolate and cookies and righted the tree in its stand, he told her about his younger sister and his parents and all his nieces and nephews. She told him about her family while they strung the lights.

  "Did you ever think about leaving? About moving back to be near your folks?"

  She knew what he was asking. He meant after Joe died. She shook her head.

  "Rabbit Creek was Joe's pack and when we mated, I made it mine. I stand for my pack. They stand for me."

  And they had stood for her. She'd been a member for less than a year when Joe died. Her folks came and spent two weeks, all they could spare from their jobs, and she was glad when they left. She knew they meant well, but she couldn't stand her mother's hovering or the look of pity in her father's eyes. Lindy cried for three days after they left because she couldn't cry while they were there. Her pain would be their pain and she couldn't do that to them.

  It was the Mate, Elizabeth, who shared her pain, Elizabeth who held her and sometimes cried with her and kept the tissues coming.

  At the end of those three days, it was Elizabeth who said, "Enough. This can't be good for your baby."

  Lindy hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy, not even her mother. "How? How could you know?"

  Elizabeth had laughed. "I'm the Mate. I'm supposed to know everything or so they tell me."

  After that, the pack moved in. Maggie Cramer showed up with enough venison and rabbit to fill her freezer. Maggie's mate, Roy, kept her in fish. Max brought her a stack of mother and baby books and laughingly told her she wouldn't learn much, but they made for interesting reading. Ma Gruver showed up with herbal concoctions that she didn't touch until Maggie told her Ma had been dosing pregnant women for half a century and they hadn't lost one yet.

  They didn't hover. They didn't look at her with pity. They were there when she needed them and left her alone when she didn't. They stood for her and Joey and helped her move on.

  Her wolf quietly wagged her tail in agreement.

  Travis' hand was on her shoulder. "You okay?"

  "Yeah," she nodded and smiled, "I think I am." She could finally remember that time without tears.

  "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said softly.

  "You didn't," she told him and meant it. "I was just remembering."

  Lindy opened the cardboard box and started to unwrap the ornaments she hadn't looked at since the Christmas before Joe died.

  Chapter 4

  Some of the ornaments were new; pretty, shiny balls she'd purchased along with red bows to fill in the gaps of that first Christmas tree. Others were old, a mishmash of bright colors, chipped paint, faded designs and cheap plastic bits that hung on her tree when she was a pup. There was even an angel she'd made in first grade.

  "When my brother and I found mates, my mother gave us each a box of ornaments from the family tree," Lindy explained.

  Travis asked her about each one as she unwrapped and handed it to him to hang. He held up a satiny 'Baby's First Christmas' and raised his eyebrows at the date.

  "Why, you're just a cub," he said of her twenty five years, "Assuming this is yo
urs."

  "Yes, it's mine," she admitted. She'd felt pretty old these last two years. Did she look it, too? "What about you? You can't be that old," she said to cover her concern.

  "Me? I'm a ripe old thirty-one and according to my mother and sisters, my clock is ticking fast."

  Now it was Lindy who raised her eyebrows.

  "My sisters want to share their you-wouldn't-believe how-gross-disgusting-stupid-just-fill-in-the-blank Travis stories with someone and my mother wants more pups to spoil as if the five my sisters have produced aren't enough," he complained, but his laugh was one of tolerant affection. "One of the best things about moving here is that there's no constant parade of every eligible woman between twenty and forty being marched under my nose. Believe me, when my mother wants something, she doesn't let anything get in her way."

  "What does your father say to all this?"

  "When it comes to women, you just can't win," Travis said in the same deep tone he'd used in the kitchen. He smiled as Lindy laughed and then he said, "You should laugh more often. It looks good on you." Ignoring Lindy's blush, he pointed to a little gold colored box she held in her hands. "What's that?"

  Lindy held it so he could see the opening cut in the front. "It's Joey's First Christmas ornament. My mother sent it. He was just ten weeks old and Joe had been gone for less than a year. I didn't have the heart…" Her fingers worked the box open, but she didn't pass the ornament to Travis. Instead, she pushed the wrapping papers on her lap onto the sofa and went to the tree to hang it herself.

  "And now you do," he said softly, standing by her side.

  Travis reached back for the last ornament in the box. Wrapped in blue tissue paper, she'd been pushing it off to the side and avoiding it. He was pretty sure he knew what it was.

  "No," Lindy said, holding up her hand, "That one stays in the box." She shook her head. "It's a part of the past I don't want to remember."

  "But you do remember, every time you look at Joey. Was he a good man, a good wolver?"

  "Yes," she whispered, "He was good to me and would have been a good father to Joey." And she was sorry he was gone and wouldn't get to enjoy the good things he deserved.

  Travis put his arm around her and pulled her in close to his side.

  "Look at your tree, Lindy. Your first Christmas, Joey's first Christmas, the angel you made, even those ugly plastic poinsettia things that you thought were beautiful when you were eight, the faded ornaments from your parent's trees when they were young. This tree is filled with your history and now Joey's. It's filled with memories and that's what makes it beautiful."

  "Joey never knew him," she said sadly for both of them.

  "All the more reason to hang it on the tree." He unwrapped the glass ball and held it up in front of her. On it was a simple design of a red front door outlined in holly with a wreath in the center. Our First Christmas was written in script with the date below and below that, Joe & Lindy.

  "In a few years, Joey will be helping to decorate. You'll tell him the stories of the ornaments just like you told me. It will give you the chance to tell Joey about the man who was his father and Joey will know his dad was loved and remembered."

  Travis was right. Lindy took the ornament from him and hung it high on the tree where it would be safe from little hands. As she stood back, she quickly wiped away a tear that was forming in the corner of her eye. She didn't think Travis noticed, but he did. He seemed to notice everything. He gave her another shoulder hug.

  "That's part of remembering," he said matter-of-factly and then, "Oh shit! Look at the time." He pointed to the clock on the wall. "I didn't mean to keep you up so late."

  It was after one o'clock! Lindy couldn't believe the time had flown so fast or that she was still wide awake. Usually, once Joey was tucked up in his crib, she puttered around the house for a few hours and then went to bed.

  "I'm sorry I kept you," Lindy apologized, "I'll bet you had better things to do on Christmas Eve."

  "No, I didn't," he said, forgetting about the parties he'd thought about earlier. "I had a good time. It was like coming home. Going home, I mean. Being with family."

  Now was the time he should be putting on his coat and saying good bye, but he stood there, not wanting to leave.

  "I had a good time, too," she said, "I wonder what it's doing outside."

  Now that the time had come, she didn't want him to leave. She went to the window and pulled the curtain back so she could see. The snow was falling heavily again and she smiled.

  "It's awful out there. I don't know if you'll be able to get out to the road. You could spend the night," she said and then blushed. "On the sofa, I mean. You spent so much time decorating the tree, maybe you'd like to watch Joey opening his presents. If he has time, GW will probably come by and plow the driveway tomorrow morning. It'll make it easier for you." she told him hopefully.

  He wasn't going to tell her that his truck would make it through just fine. He wanted to stay, and if this GW happened to find time, he'd also find Travis' bright blue truck all covered in snow, proving that he'd spent the night. It would serve the bastard right.

  "I'd like to spend the night with you. On the sofa, I mean." Yep, lay it on out there, buddy. "I mean I'd like to stay and see Joey open his presents."

  Lindy let out her breath and smiled. "Good. Good. I'll go get you a pillow and blankets."

  "And I'll put the presents under the tree."

  *****

  At this hour of the night, Lindy should have been dead to the world, but she couldn't sleep. She never had trouble sleeping, but tonight her inner wolf wouldn't settle. Purring like a cat one minute and snarling the next, her wolf prowled back and forth. She wanted out. She wanted the wolver stretched out on the sofa downstairs.

  "Big wolf. Strong. Bring us meat. Take care of cubs. Good mate."

  "Stop it," Lindy hissed, "It's not like that. He's a nice guy who helped make Christmas for Joey. That's all."

  If her wolf had been free, she would have bitten something.

  You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to your wolf. That's what her mother always said and Lindy was beginning to believe it. She had more than a passing interest in Travis and her wolf knew it.

  When she thought about that almost-kiss, and she was thinking about it a lot, she wished she hadn't frightened herself and turned away. When he put a friendly arm around her shoulders, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and curl into him.

  Her wolf was yipping and tumbling around inside her, trying to get her attention. Lindy knew what her wolf was trying to say, but she wasn't ready to listen. She was in estrus. The moon was almost full. Her wolf had awakened from a two year nap and she was horny. How could anyone trust a horny wolf?

  Lindy tossed and turned and finally fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed of running as a wolf. Even in sleep, her damn wolf wouldn't leave her alone.

  Travis wasn't faring any better. The couch was actually pretty comfortable, but it wasn't a bed. It wasn't Lindy's bed. Hell, it wasn't Lindy's bed with Lindy in it. He wondered what she wore to bed. He pictured her in something short and flirty, maybe something pink with that ruffly stuff around the bottom edge or maybe something sleek and slinky that would mold to her breasts and hips.

  He groaned and rolled to his side, shifting until his back was pressed against the back of the couch. Maybe she wore one of those satiny night shirt things that look liked an oversized man's shirt. He groaned again. These thoughts were making him mighty uncomfortable. And then he snorted a laugh at his fantasies.

  Lindy was a single mom with a fifteen month old pup who probably woke her at all hours of the night. She probably wore a pair of flannel sleep pants and tee shirt.

  Travis sat up, elbows on knees, and ran his hands through his hair. He knew he had it bad when the thought of flannel PJs stoked his hard on.

  His wolf had no patience with any of this. He'd scented his female and was ready to go.

  "It's not that easy," Travis argued, t
hough quietly, so as not to wake the woman sleeping right above his head. "She's a widow who still has feelings for her dead mate. I can't compete with that?"

  The wolf inside him growled. "No compete. Dead mate is no mate! No running, no hunting, no playing, no making pups." To a wolf, life was simple.

  "Sure. Whatever. What about GW, the wolver who might have time?"

  Could a wolf shrug? Because Travis was pretty sure his did, right before it said, "Beat him. Drive him to ground. Teeth at throat. Show female, bigger, better wolf."

  Challenge GW? The idea appealed to Travis and he could feel his wolf's excitement, but he wasn't sure it would appeal to Lindy. Any female wolf would be impressed with strength. That didn't mean her woman would be attracted to the wolver wielding it.

  Lindy didn't strike him as the blood and guts type, though it was sometimes hard to tell. His mother, a woman who cried at the thought of a mouse in a trap, once tried to rip the hide off a bear when it decided to make a meal of an injured wolver. She beat off the bear and mated the wolver. His father still joked that he only mated her because he was afraid not to and every time he said it, his mother still giggled and blushed.

  But the idea of a Challenge got him thinking. If he were going to get anywhere with the little widow, he was going to have to show her he wasn't the kind of guy who would take care of her when he got around to it. He'd take care of her when she needed it and what she needed now was her driveway plowed.

  There was a snow shovel in the lean-to where she kept the ax. If he started now, he could be done before she woke. He pulled on his tee shirt and grabbed his jacket. This time he'd make sure he didn't freeze his ears off. There was an ear warmer under the passenger seat somewhere, along with a pair of gloves.

  Closing the door quietly behind him, he trudged out to the truck, thanking God for powdery snow that was easy to shovel and most of all for making it stop. It wouldn't be worth much if the bastard found time to plow and another three inches had fallen on Travis' work.