Hitched by Christmas

by Jule McBride

  “Slim Struthers, I guess. Years ago, before he became head honcho at the Rambling Rose, he’d worked at Lost Springs. He was around for most of my growing up.”

  “You used to come to the feed store with him on Saturdays.”

  Luke nodded. Of course she’d remember him. “I figure he knows more about me than anybody.” That feeling stole over Luke again, as if lost memories were hiding in his mind. “And last night,” he suddenly added, “I think I even dreamed about this place.” Hadn’t he dreamed of a man and woman—no, a whole family—getting into a car and driving through the gates? “I remember a car....”

  “What kind?”

  He shrugged. “An old red one. Not beat-up old,” he added. “Old, like it was a classic. With a shiny paint job and tail fins.”

  “A Cadillac?”

  Maybe she was thinking of the one Tex used to drive. Luke could only shake his head again, feeling frustrated. “I don’t know.”

  Claire leaned closer, resting an elbow on the lid of the compartment between the seats, next to Luke’s hat. “Can you remember anything else?”

  She was watching him with what looked suspiciously like professional interest. “I’m not crazy, Claire,” he said.

  “Of course not.” Her all-seeing eyes became even softer, and as she reached a hand toward him, Luke’s heart nearly stopped. His breath caught as her fingers slid into his hair, gently raking through the strands and against his scalp, stoking a fire low in his belly. “There’s no such thing as crazy,” she assured him.

  A caress like that sure won’t convince me, Claire. He didn’t say the words because he didn’t want it to end, but she withdrew her hand, anyway, and he sighed softly.

  She nodded toward the car phone. “Why don’t you call Slim?”

  Staring up the Stoddards’ long driveway, Luke felt something inside him catching. Was it fear? Whatever the emotion, he didn’t entirely understand it. “Right now?”

  “Why not? It’ll take five minutes.”

  Who could deny the coaxing pragmatism in her voice? Leaning over, Luke punched in Slim’s number, leaving the phone on the speaker option. “He’s probably not even there,” Luke said as he and Claire listened.

  On the fourth ring, somebody lifted the phone. “’Lo.”

  Just hearing Slim’s voice made Luke chuckle softly. “Hey there, cowboy.”

  “’Lo, there,” said Slim. “Guess I should have said, ‘Ho, there.’ Happy holiday, Luke.”

  “Same to you.”

  “When are you coming out to sit a spell with me ’n’ the wife, boy? We got a whole turkey waitin’. If you can’t come Christmas Day, how’s about leftovers the day after?”

  “Sounds fine, Slim. Say, six?”

  “Six is good.”

  Leaning an elbow against the steering wheel and half turning toward Claire, Luke said, “Slim, I mostly called because I’ve got a quick question. I’m over at the Stoddard place.”

  “The Lazy Four?”

  “Yeah. And, anyway...” Feeling awkward, Luke went ahead and told Slim everything he’d just told Claire. “Slim,” he said, speaking more candidly than he usually did. “Maybe it’s just the time of the year. To be honest, I always wind up thinking back to how you-all found me that Christmas.” Luke shook his head, feeling dull anger. “What kind of people would leave a baby on a doorstep?” he muttered, blowing out another sigh. “Anyway, I just wondered if you ever brought me over here, to the Lazy Four.”

  There was a long pause. During it, both he and Claire stared down at the phone. Then Slim said, “Uh...I sure don’t recall taking you to the Stoddards’. Doubt you ever went, neither. First off, Evander Stoddard ain’t much for company. Everybody knows he keeps to himself. The hands’ bunkhouse is nearly two miles from the main house, you get to it by a separate road, and nobody from Lost Springs ever did any business out there. But Luke...”

  Disappointment coiled inside him at Slim’s words, leaving him to wonder what he’d expected Slim to say. Lifting his eyes, Luke locked them on Claire’s. Registering the sympathy he saw there, he managed to crack a half smile. Damn. How could she have fallen in love with Clive? Now that Luke knew it was the truth, he simply couldn’t accept it.

  “Luke...” Slim began again.

  Luke sighed. “Yeah?”

  “I’m not sure how to tell you this, boy, but I found something in what you said to be mighty disturbing.”

  Luke frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Well...you weren’t found on no doorstep when you were a baby.”

  Everything in Luke went still. “I wasn’t?”

  “Sorry to tell you this, but we found you on the steps, sure enough. And it was a Christmas morning, that’s true. But you was three or four by then. You sure weren’t no baby.”

  Luke’s heart pounded. Claire’s hand suddenly settled on his shoulder, squeezing tight, and without thinking, he let his palm slide over the back of her hand, his fingers falling between hers. His voice lowered, turning hoarse. “Three or four, you say?”

  “You was shiverin’ in a too-thin coat, and you had that blue-and-white-checkered blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You know, the one you still have?”

  Luke nodded. The blanket was the only thing left from childhood, and it was folded in a trunk at the foot of his bed.

  “The blanket had your name sewn inside it,” Slim continued. “At least we figured Luke Lydell was your name. We called the sheriff right off, but on account of how scared you was, the authorities was real easy on you. Nothing they said could drag any information out of you. Anyhow, nobody’d seen any strangers in the area who could have left you there that morning. And it was clear you was...”

  “I was what?” Luke was still staring into the soft sea of tender blue that were Claire’s eyes. His hand tightened over hers. Did she know how much her touch meant to him right now? How could he have been so wrong about his past?

  Slim grunted. “To be blunt, you was...not wanted, boy. Oh, darnit, Luke,” Slim suddenly added, “I don’t even want to talk about it. I like you too much, and I hate seeing you hurt. But you know how many kids get left at Lost Springs every year. So many that some wind up in other homes in the state.”

  “Can you tell me anything else?”

  “Anything I know, you know, Luke.”

  Keeping his eyes on Claire’s, Luke listened while Slim offered every detail about the Christmas morning Luke had been found. Luke had always known there was no record of his birth, since he’d asked; like most kids at Lost Springs, he’d thought of looking for his folks. It was why Brady touched Luke’s heart, and probably why he’d studied law enforcement, so he could learn to search for missing persons. But now Luke knew he’d never asked the right people the right questions.

  “Talk to me,” Claire said simply when the call ended. Slipping her hand from beneath his, she lifted it, gliding her fingers through his hair once more, stroking the strands and tucking them behind his ears.

  Luke wasn’t used to talking like this, and his voice was rough with suppressed emotion. “I can’t...I just don’t know what to say, Claire.”

  Her eyes were more tender than any mother’s could have been, and Luke realized with a dull thud of his heart, they were brimming with something that had to be love.

  Her lips were so close he could feel her breath. “You never asked these questions before, Luke?”

  He shook his head. “I...just thought I knew.”

  “Deep down, you must not have wanted to know everything,” she continued gently. “A lot of folks at Lost Springs could have told you that you weren’t a baby when you got there. Sounds like you’ve avoided the truth and repressed some memories.”

  “A scary thought,” he murmured.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

 
Needing to hold her, he slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, his heart aching as she sank against his chest, her cheek and palm resting there. Gently, he smoothed a hand over the top of her pulled-back hair, and they sat like that a long time, with him staring up the Stoddards’ long driveway, wondering at the gaps in his life. Was the woman in the yellow dress who haunted his dreams and memories his mama? And was the family in the red car his own? Luke needed more time to think, to process this. Maybe tonight, he could kick back and chew on it for a spell. He sighed. “Guess we’d better get up to the house. We’ve still got to talk to the Stoddards about Clive.”

  Claire nodded, inching slowly up from his chest. Her eyes settled on his again, so sweet and soft and blue that Luke wanted nothing more than to pull her to him again. Her voice was low with emotion. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, Luke...if you’re ready, I want you to know I’m here for you.” Her voice suddenly caught. “I’ve always been here, Luke.”

  Not anymore. Luke was sure she was in love with Clive. His throat felt tight. “Thanks, Claire.”

  “Never thank me,” she added with soft urgency. Reaching, she threaded her fingers deeper into his hair and pulled herself up, close enough to kiss him. Right before her lips brushed his cheek, she whispered, “I’d do anything in the world for you. You know that, don’t you, Luke?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I’D DO ANYTHING FOR YOU, LUKE. The words were echoing in Claire’s mind hours later. Flexing her fingers on the Wrangler’s steering wheel, she squinted anxiously into the pitch darkness. Even in the best weather, trees encroached on this forgotten corner of Lost Springs, their gnarled roots sprawling onto the narrow dirt-and-gravel road, making it scarcely navigable. Now winter had claimed the road, too, burying it beneath ice and snow while the canopy of trees blotted out the moon. So far, she’d gotten stuck twice. Fearing she’d have to walk, she’d spread kitty litter and salt beneath the tires, until she got traction again. It was definitely too cold to hike to Luke’s cabin from here, besides, there were bobcats and wild dogs.

  Suddenly she saw a flash of soft tawny hide and white back legs. Gasping, she slammed on the brakes just in time. “A deer,” she murmured as it disappeared into the woods. Her heart thudding against her ribs, she slowly pressed the gas again.

  At least she knew this was the right road. Claire was loathe to admit it, but she’d wound up here countless times over the years, never intending to come, but always secretly hoping to see Luke. Each time, she’d kept her camera slung around her neck and practiced what she’d say if he caught her sniffing around his territory. “Just doing a little off-roading,” she’d say casually. “Taking pictures to paint from.” She’d always imagined pointing at her paint box, which she kept plainly visible in the front seat.

  But she’d never seen Luke.

  “And now I’m lost.” She was truly beginning to believe it when she saw a light glimmering through the trees. Moments later, she was parking her Jeep behind his. Icy air seeped through the open vents as she turned off the engine, chilling her stocking-clad knees. She stared through the thick snowflakes melting on the windshield, toward the one-story log cabin.

  Feeling a sudden attack of nerves, she reminded herself that she’d come here because Luke was hurting. He was still processing the conversation with Slim, and spending time with the Stoddards this afternoon probably hadn’t helped. No matter how it seemed sometimes, Luke’s occasional, impulsive gestures of affection said he cared for her; sometimes she could swear he felt much more. Seeing how well she’d bonded with her future in-laws couldn’t have been easy for him. Not that Claire could profess to know what went through Luke’s impenetrable mind. All she knew was that the complexity he tried to hide drew her to him, just as the light shining from behind the cabin’s closed curtains pulled her like a moth to a flame.

  Well, maybe she hadn’t come only to comfort Luke. Or to find out if he’d heard any news about Clive. Those things were true enough. She was worried sick about Clive, but if information was all she’d wanted, she could have called. She hadn’t needed to come out here, or to change from jeans into a skirt. Or to wear makeup and let her hair flow loosely around her shoulders.

  Inside, Luke’s shadow moved across a curtain.

  Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed a bag from the passenger seat, tucked a painting she’d gift-wrapped under her arm, got out and slammed the door. There was no porch light or sidewalk, so she squinted, forging a path to the cabin, her best Justin boots sinking in the snow. As she reached the door, she could hear Van Morrison howling “Rave On.” She was taking a deep breath to steady her nerves when the door swung open.

  Luke’s strong, dark sleek body filled the frame. His hair was slicked back, tucked behind his ears, and he was bare-chested, wearing faded jeans and intricately beaded, handsewn moccasins. He looked so overwhelmingly male that Claire’s insides jellied. If the cold temperature worried his naked skin, he gave no indication. He merely gazed down at her from an elevated step, not looking all that happy to see her.

  “I was just about to knock,” she said.

  He nodded curtly, his breath clouding the dark, moist air. “I thought I heard somebody drive up.”

  She bit back a shiver. “It was me.” As if he hasn’t figured that out, Claire.

  His eyes seemed to peer past her, as if he was checking to see if she’d brought company. “Looks like it.”

  Suddenly, she felt idiotic. “Luke,” she found herself saying, wondering how they’d backtracked from the intimacy they’d shared earlier. “I just drove two miles through the wilderness to bring you dinner, and it’s freezing out here. Are you going to invite me in or not?”

  When he glanced over his shoulder, Claire wasn’t prepared for a sudden, murderous jolt of jealousy. Was he pushing her away because there was something inside—or worse, someone—he didn’t want her to see? Another woman, she decided, her heart fluttering with panic. As if you’ve got some claim on him. Technically, she was still engaged, at least until she talked to Clive again. Fighting an embarrassed flush over her own double standards and suppressing her guilt, she shifted the bag on her hip. “Mama thought you might want some dinner.” As if Mama would really send me miles into the woods on a snowy night just to deliver a plate of turkey.

  Seemingly coming to his senses, Luke stepped aside. “Uh...come on in.”

  At this point, she couldn’t exactly turn around gracefully and leave. Besides, facing that treacherous road again without at least a hot drink would be too brutal for words, so she brushed past Luke, the close proximity of his half-clothed body sending a wave of unwanted awareness through her. He so obviously didn’t want her here that she barely noted the cabin’s interior, though she realized the living room, dining room and kitchen were combined, and that the glowing hardwood floors were covered with Native American rugs. A fire crackled in a brick fireplace in the living area, casting long, fuzzy shadows and making the polished blond wood of the paneled walls shine.

  “Here.” Taking the bag, Luke lightly kicked the door shut, then he spun a knob somewhere that considerably lowered the volume of the music. “Can I take your coat?”

  For a second, she didn’t move, the cozy intimacy of the cabin making her further realize he’d been holed up for the night. “Luke,” she began suddenly, even as he helped slip the coat from her shoulders, “I really should have called first. You obviously weren’t expecting company, and I shouldn’t have—” Switching topics, Claire started rambling about how Mama had had dinner leftovers, and how Claire figured maybe she should drive out, anyway, to see how Luke was feeling after his conversation with Slim, and because she was wondering about Clive.

  Luke held up a staying hand. “Sorry, no news. I take it you haven’t heard from him?”

  She shook her head. If Luke’s raised hand hadn’t stopped her from jabbering, the smoldering l
ook in his eyes would have. In the dim light near the doorway, the blue irises seemed to have darkened, turning to liquid midnight. She watched the powerful roll of his shoulders as he turned away from her, hooked her coat on a peg, then turned to face her again, his naked chest lit with burnished gold. She caught a whiff of him then. A faintly tangy scent of woods and soap that stirred her senses, heated her body and muddled her thinking. The unmistakable way his eyes drifted over her sent her reeling, too, reminding her that she’d worn her favorite outfit just for him—a pale blue sweater with a buttoned-up front and a brown calf-length skirt that was flecked with blue. When his gaze lowered, unmistakably grazing her breasts, everything inside her went tight—her belly constricted, her nipples hardened beneath her best lace bra, chafing and almost hurting with the awareness of him.

  “It’s okay that you’re here, Claire.”

  “Are you sure?”

  His rock-hard shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You surprised me. That’s all.”

  “It’s nice out here,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he returned. Before she could take a good look around, his eyes locked on hers, capturing all her attention. “C’mon.” Sliding a hand beneath her elbow, he urged her toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a pot of coffee made. Want some?”

  She nodded. “Sure.” As she stared into his eyes, the unbidden thought came that if she and Luke had babies, they’d have blue eyes. She found herself wishing they’d have his hair, not hers. Luke’s was so sleek, like buffed black satin. Today, as she’d felt it sifting through her fingers, she’d had to force herself not to kiss him. God only knew what he thought of her, kissing him when she was supposedly engaged. Claire watched him circle behind an oak counter separating the kitchen and dining areas, and she decided he looked like a proud native warrior who could have lived centuries before. She slipped the package she’d been carrying onto a dining chair. If Luke noticed the gift, he didn’t let on.