Maybe This Christmas: A Sweet Historical Western Holiday Romance Novella (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 2)

by Kristin Holt

  “Effie’s not going anywhere.” Noelle tore off a length of brown paper. “She’s told Mr. Rose so. I think he doesn’t want to believe her.”

  The last thing Effie wanted was to add to the gossip mill, so she took the matching blouse Mrs. Abbott held and exchanged it with the shirt she’d just finished for the mayor. “Is the blouse to your liking? Good. Please take a look at the mayor’s new shirt.”

  Ann Abbott had to be the most particular of Effie’s customers. Once Effie had proved her skills met Mrs. Abbott’s expectations, the inspection before payment had become a mere formality.

  “Most handsome.” Ann admired the plackets at the sleeve’s cuff, fingered a buttonhole or two, and smoothed the expensive cotton with a palm. “You do excellent work.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Abbott.” Effie knew what would come next. As far as Mrs. Abbott was concerned, her orders, no matter when placed, should take precedence over any others. Her husband was the mayor, after all.

  “How is your work on the mayor’s new suit progressing?”

  Right on cue. Effie couldn’t help but smile.

  Noelle, quick to please, brought out the suit coat. “Have you ever touched wool this soft and fine?”

  As Noelle kept Mrs. Abbott occupied, Effie opened the ledger to make notations of the garments Mrs. Abbott had collected and tally the bill. Payment was accepted, pleasantries exchanged, and it wasn’t long and Mrs. Abbott left, her arms full and a smile on her face.

  Effie put an arm about Noelle’s shoulders. “You’re a gem.”

  “You’re the one who knows just what to say to her. She scares me.”

  Effie chuckled. She’d once had all of Hartford’s Society at her feet. She could handle the upper crust of Mountain Home. “She’s not so bad. She simply wants to feel important and respected.”

  Didn’t everyone want the same?

  She did.

  And Luke had an uncanny way of ensuring she felt both—important and respected.

  How was she supposed to resist softening even more to his charms?

  Her traitorous heart was so attuned to Luke and his progress that it had started pounding with happy anticipation as she heard him finishing up. She forced herself to complete the seam before turning to him. He leaned in the doorway to her private room, his shirtsleeves still rolled up over forearms. Thick veins and dark hair enhanced the pull…so masculine and so familiar all at the same time.

  “Want to see?” he asked.

  Effie stood, noted Noelle had nearly finished the buttonholes on the mayor’s suit coat. She took a moment to admire the perfect, tight stitching. “Very well done, Noelle. I do believe I owe you a raise. Your skills have improved, and you’ve earned it.”

  The girl’s eyes lit with the same flair of happiness she often glimpsed in Luke’s. The siblings—including Miranda—all had that same spark.

  They ought to figure out how to bottle it. They’d make a fortune selling the patent medicine.

  “You mean it?” Noelle’s grin provoked a smile from Effie, too.

  “Indeed I do. Next payday, a nice raise for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am—umm, Effie.”

  “When you’re done there, you’ll start sewing on the buttons?” She found the envelope containing the special-order leather-covered shank buttons Mrs. Abbott had insisted upon.

  “Yes. Go see your stove.”

  Effie had a hard time meeting Luke’s gaze. These two could see right through her, and no doubt recognized her attempt to delay joining Luke.

  How pathetic was she?

  It should be a simple thing, to admire his craftsmanship, thank him for a job well done, and offer—though he’d refuse—repayment for the hardware and compensation for his time.

  What was wrong with her?

  Butterflies flitted about her stomach and she couldn’t help but smile…sure signs her recent flirtation with certain disaster wasn’t entirely in the past.

  Number one: I will not forfeit my hard-won freedom.

  Number two: I am content with my life the way it is.

  She would mentally recite her list as often and as frequently as required until the temporary infatuation passed. It would pass…she’d make sure of it.

  Number three: Men are never the same after marriage as they appear beforehand.

  Luke offered his hand. His expression conveyed such hope, such optimism she’d accept.

  Effie split a glance between him and his little sister, and finding Noelle busily stitching by light from the window, she still hesitated.

  Should she?

  Was it really so bad, just to take his hand?

  He simply waited, a soft smile playing about his lips. Oh! He knew how much conflict this caused her, and yet he offered his hand anyway.

  Shame on him. She strode past him and into the bedroom, leaving him to follow.

  She made sure she left him plenty of room so he didn’t need to stand too near. With her attention entirely on the new appliance, she scanned it from ceiling to floor, noting he’d built a square base of bricks to keep the iron legs off the floorboards.

  Luke had cleaned up every stray bit of sawdust. The stovepipe climbed straight and true, and, as she’d overheard from her sewing machine, he’d built a fire in the stove’s belly.

  He held out his hands to warm them. “Come try it out.”

  “I feel the warmth from here. Thank you, Mr. Finlay.”

  He quirked a brow. He seemed on the brink of laughter, but instead he snagged her wrist and pulled her forward. “I don’t bite. What’s the matter?”

  She swallowed. “Not a thing.”

  Number four: Marriage is most disagreeable.

  She determined to compliment him and get the conversation back on track. “You’re a tidy worker.”

  “Tidy?” Now he did laugh. “Loosen up, Effie. You’re talking to me like we’re barely acquaintances.”

  He looped his arm about her shoulders, pulled her close. “And I think we’re more than that. We’re at least friends.” He whispered the last of it close to her ear.

  Predictably, her stomach tingled and her body fairly sang at his touch. She fought to keep a straight face. “Yes, Mr. Finlay. We are friends.”

  “Is that all we are?” He nudged the shell of her ear with his nose, then his lips.

  The delicious friction had her pulling away. “You know it’s all we can be.”

  Number five: My nature is unsuited to marriage.

  He shifted, cupped her face in his big hands, and his mouth touched hers for the briefest of seconds. He searched her gaze and asked a silent question.

  Number six: I do not want male attention.

  His hands trembled.

  Sudden awareness flooded her system. All she could see, feel, sense was Luke. Warm, near, and focused wholly on her.

  I’m a liar. I want this man’s attention.

  Intoxicating.

  Exhilarating.

  Her breath caught.

  He looked her in the eye with an unguarded intensity she’d never experienced, never understood could happen between a man and a woman. He took her in, searching her gaze as if she were the most desirable woman in the world.

  “Effie,” he mouthed, silently, and kissed her.

  His lips, so warm, so soft, sent an electrifying sensation bolting from lip to crown to toes. Her hands, flat against the flannel of his shirt, ached to steal into the hair at his nape.

  His kiss stunned her in its simplicity and utter reverence.

  Never in her life—not even when she and Gus been young—had she experienced this kind of kiss.

  Pure, wholesome, honest.

  She understood demanding, rough kisses meant to subjugate and control.

  She understood kisses devoid of tenderness.

  She understood ungainly, forbidden kisses in carriage houses and moonlit gardens.

  But this…

  Her soul seemed to expand, bringing a sensation of exquisite joy quickly followed by panic�
�she could not allow herself to change her mind so easily.

  Number six…no! Number seven: Men are undesirable.

  That one—number seven—was a bald lie, it held no weight, and could not sustain her through moments of weakness.

  This was most certainly one of those moments of excruciating weakness.

  Luke Finlay was desirable.

  So much more desirable for the innocence of his kiss.

  He pulled back before she’d had a chance to savor—his kiss had been far too brief. In his eyes she glimpsed the most terrifying, awe-inspiring, the list-obliterating reason why this insanity must end.

  Luke Finlay loved her.

  Full, whole-hearted, bone-deep, life-long love. The same wordless communication she’d spied between Phil and Caroline, Luke’s parents. A mirror image of the expression she’d seen in Hunter’s eyes for Miranda.

  Now, she understood.

  Not once in her life—not even with Gus—had she experienced that utter, helpless, all-consuming love of a man, for her.

  Her heart pounded with the realization she teetered on the verge of falling in love…maybe. Was she capable of the emotion?

  A rush of hot tears threatened. It was simply too much.

  She couldn’t bear to let him see how he affected her, so she dipped her chin and alighted against him. She fit perfectly in the hollow of his throat.

  His arms came about her, as if it were the most natural response. Beneath her hand, his heart thudded, quick and sure and strong.

  The magnitude of her response to his kiss and the undeniable truth that he loved her changed everything. If his kiss hadn’t moved her, if she’d not witnessed the depth of his affection, she might be able to set it aside with the ease in which she’d set Gus’s kisses aside.

  The two were simply incomparable.

  An hour ago, she never would’ve believed she might so much as consider forfeiting her freedom and independence. Now, her whole world had shifted.

  The shop door opened, tinkling bells carrying in the quiet.

  Scissors thudded on the cutting table. Noelle’s stool scraped against the floor. “Afternoon, Mr. Rose.”

  Chapter Six

  As Effie stiffened in his arms, Luke realized that how he played this trick hand he’d been dealt could change everything.

  They’d come to a fork in the road. He wouldn’t dare guess how far or how long, but for the moment, she’d chosen him. He didn’t want to mess this up.

  “Where’s Effie off to?” Gus’s boots thudded. Luke pictured Gus leaning a hip against the counter.

  “She went out,” Noelle said, “on errands.”

  The little minx. Fibbing to make sure Gus left, giving him more time alone with Effie. At least he knew which side his sister was on.

  And he kind of liked it that Effie remained quiet, snuggled up against him, rather than go out to meet Gus.

  He pressed his lips to her temple. She fit so perfectly in his arms, it seemed she’d always belonged there.

  “Any idea when she’ll be back?” Gus’s voice carried easily through the open door.

  “She didn’t say. A good while, I suppose.”

  “Well, look at that.” Gus’s footfalls drew nearer, in the direction of the doorway into the bedroom. Well, if Gus walked in on them, saw Effie in Luke’s arms, the decision would be taken from her and he knew, instinctively, she wouldn’t like that.

  He eased back enough to let her know this was up to her. If she wanted to stay right where she was, well, fine by him. But if this wasn’t what she wanted Gus to see, she’d best step away.

  He met her gaze and couldn’t help but grin. The indecision on her pretty face was the most uncertain he’d ever seen her.

  After she’d kissed him, really, was there anything left to work out? Beyond letting Gus know the matter was settled, Luke couldn’t see anything else left to decide.

  He felt like crowing.

  Effie scowled at him and he felt the grin slide right off his face.

  Oops.

  Where Luke stood, he had a pretty good view of the doorway, but couldn’t see Gus. Yet. Effie’s back was turned more to the door than not. Of course she’d heard Gus, but hadn’t a chance of seeing him unless she turned around.

  She raised one shapely brow as if asking him a question.

  “What?” he mouthed, careful not to make a sound. He couldn’t read her expression.

  With deliberate slowness, she leaned close and looped her arms about his middle. She had a smile on her face the size of Colorado as she dipped her chin and snuggled against his chest.

  He realized what she intended—to show Gus how things were. And given he’d thought the same thing, himself, he really shouldn’t be put out…but he was.

  She’d decided to use him. Willful, intentional, plant-a-sign-in-the-snow to tell Gus a thing or two.

  Gus’s footfalls paused in the doorway.

  Luke glanced up and met the other man’s gaze. Well, I’ll be pickled. Gus had a grin on his face. Luke would’ve expected a lot of things coming from a U.S. Marshal who’d just heard a tall tale from a shop clerk…who happened to be the competition’s little sister.

  Had Luke been in Gus’s boots, he’d have been angry to see Effie in Gus’s arms, hiding in the back room and avoiding saying hello.

  But Gus and Luke were apparently two very different kinds, ‘cause Gus kept up the show for both ladies.

  Gus tipped his head toward the new stove. “Well, would you look at that.”

  Effie stiffened.

  Ah, so that was Gus’s game. Getting back at Effie. For some reason, it felt like Gus was getting back at him, too.

  Gus grinned. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “It’s new,” Noelle said from the shop, just loud enough for Luke to make out. “Just happened today.”

  “Good.” Gus winked.

  Winked! Uh-oh. The other guy had a plan cooking…that much was certain.

  “It’s far colder at this elevation, and I’ve about froze, myself, a couple nights this week. It’s good Mrs. O’Leary’s got herself a new stove. Had it put in this morning, did she?”

  “Yes. Should I tell her you came by?” Noelle’s voice retreated past the counter, into the customer half of the store.

  Effie snuggled deeper against Luke’s neck and he let himself enjoy it. Whatever Gus was playing at, he wouldn’t let it ruin the enjoyment of finally having her in his arms. He smoothed a hand up her back. He savored it doubly, knowing it had to rankle Gus.

  “Nah.” A bit of joviality sparkled in Gus’s tone as he met Luke’s gaze directly. “No need. She knows I came by. And tell Luke this war isn’t over, not by a long shot.” Gus fell back from the doorway and his footfalls retreated to the front door.

  Well, son of a gun. This should be interesting, seeing what scrimmage Gus would wage next. It seemed kind of pointless, given Effie had made her choice. That kiss still hummed in his brain like too much liquor…and he just couldn’t see Effie kissing him like that and giving Gus more than the time of day afterward.

  “Afternoon, Miss Finlay.” Gus let himself out, setting the bells to jingling.

  Effie pushed away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “You.”

  “Me?” The woman didn’t make a lick of sense.

  “Did you see him in the doorway?” Her eyes narrowed with accusation.

  Was there a correct response?

  Apparently she didn’t want an answer because she turned away, her skirts swirling.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” He reached for her, caught her elbow. “Settle down and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “If you don’t know, I don’t feel the need to enlighten you.”

  She tugged her arm free and he let her go. She stomped into the shop and Luke followed. Shameless, he was. He’d follow her anywhere.

  “Did he see?” Effie questioned Noelle. “He saw, didn’t he?”

  “Hey, now,” Luke jumped to his sister’s defense, tried
to calm Effie with the same low voice and slow movements he used when approaching a riled stallion. Or a mean bull. He couldn’t help it…the comparison of his sweet Effie and a snorting bull was just too accurate at the moment…and a smile shoved his control aside.

  “You think this is funny?” She whirled on him.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. You heard him. You knew he was there, and you willingly and intentionally stepped into my arms. I saw the look in your eye, Effie O’Leary. You chose me.”

  “I did not.”

  Luke glanced at his sister for support. Noelle ducked her head and whipped a stitch with her needle. So much for help from his sister—he changed his mind. She didn’t deserve a thanks after all.

  “Mind telling me what this is all about, then?”

  She growled in frustration, more agitated than he’d ever seen her.

  He’d never felt more helpless. He’d seen females’ moods swing fast like this, from all placid and happy to spitting mad inside a second and a half, but this was ridiculous. As far as he could see, he only did what she’d wanted him to do. “You hugged me.”

  “Only to make him see I meant every word I’ve said.”

  Ouch. That stung. But he’d known, at the time, she’d used him and she wasn’t herself at the moment, so he let it slide. “What did you say? To him?”

  “That I will remain a widow the rest of my life. I have no intention of remarrying, and he’d best let go of his grand plans to marry me here—or Connecticut—because I won’t.”

  “Well, that’s good news.”

  She glared at him.

  He sobered right fast.

  “What you seem to have missed,” she said in a tone of false calm, “is that this effects you, too. I will remain a widow the rest of my life.”

  “Of course you’re a widow. Your husband died.”

  She made an inarticulate sound of frustration. He’d evidently said the wrong thing.

  She drew a deep breath and blew it out. She clasped her hands at her waist and just like that, she’d regained her composure—sort of. “Let me make myself clear. I refused Gus, and I refuse your courtship, too. I’m never getting married—”

  “You kissed me like it meant something.” He took a step closer.

  He must’ve looked and sounded far more menacing than he’d intended ‘cause Noelle shrieked and hopped down from the stool. “I’m headed to the necessary.” She grabbed her coat and fled out the back door.