A Wedding for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  Gabi rolled her eyes. “I have half a mind to thump you.”

  “Ryder did not come back home for me,” Katie insisted.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because when Ryder and I . . .” Katie paused, caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Normally, she’d be more circumspect, but the salty dog slipped the parking brake off her tongue.

  Gabi scooted to the edge of her seat, breathed deep. “Yes?”

  “When we, um . . . um . . .”

  “Did the deed?” Gabi finished gleefully.

  Katie nodded, and couldn’t stop a modest smile from curling at her lips. “I made it clear that our hooking up was a one-time thing. No strings attached. I told him it could never be more than that. Ever. And he agreed.”

  “And you said that because you figured that’s what he wanted?” Gabi asked.

  “Because it was what I wanted.”

  “Really?” Gabi folded her arms over her chest in an I’m-not-buying-it expression.

  “Really,” Kate said, not buying it herself. But hey, she talked a good game.

  “Geez.” Gabi stabbed a hand through her hair. “That’s surprising. But a girl has a right to change her mind. You could change your mind. You’re not stuck with the no-strings edict.”

  “It’s more than that,” she confessed.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t leave things on a positive note between us. I don’t think there’s much hope of changing the rules this late in the game.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I snuck out on him the morning after. Slipped out of his bed and ran away without even leaving a note. I’m not proud, but I did it.”

  Gabi winced. “Do you think you hurt his feelings?”

  “I don’t know.” Katie shrugged. “I felt really bad about running off without a conversation, but I couldn’t face him in the light of day.”

  “Sex was that bad, huh? I can see that would be a dilemma. Here the guy you’ve been crushing on since high school is lousy in the sack.”

  “No,” Katie whispered. “The sex was that amazing. Mind-blowing and life-altering doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  Gabi grinned as if she’d just found a real diamond in a box of Cracker Jacks. “I know what that’s like. Joe is—”

  “Ugh!” Katie clamped her hands over her ears again. “TMI. TMI.”

  “Sorry.” Gabi chuckled. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “I get it. You and my brother have fantastic sex. Let’s move on.”

  “Okay, wait.” Gabi held up both palms. “Hold the presses. I have to make sense of this. You ran out on Ryder because the sex was over-the-moon?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Why? Why would you hamstring yourself like that? Why close down a world of possibilities? Is something wrong with him that I can’t see?”

  “Yes,” Katie whispered.

  “What?” Gabi lowered her voice too as if they were coconspirators worried about being overheard by nefarious spies.

  “He’s the white unicorn.”

  “The what?” Gabi’s brow furrowed.

  “You know, the fabled white unicorn. The fairy-tale creature every little girl dreams of catching, but once she does she realizes it’s a fantasy for a reason.”

  “And what reason is that?” Gabi asked, eyes wide, head tilted with curiosity, a few grains of sea salt clinging to her upper lip.

  “Once you capture the white unicorn, the fantasy is over.”

  “I see,” Gabi said in a tone that said she didn’t see in the least.

  “Here’s another way of looking at it. If you capture the unicorn, tame it, you change it, and it’s no longer the beautiful creature you once longed for.”

  “You’re saying Ryder’s wildness is the very thing that attracts you?”

  “Yes. I can’t change him. I won’t even try.”

  “So when you were in LA, you took a walk on his wild side, but you knew that while it was a fun place to visit, you couldn’t live at that level of excitement. And if you were to attempt to tame Ryder, it would destroy who he was at his core, and that’s why you told him no-strings attached. Not because you didn’t want strings, but because you knew strings would bind him.”

  “Exactly.” Katie clutched her hands in her lap, looked down, and noticed with surprise that she’d been chewing on her thumbnail. She hadn’t done that in years. Not since she’d left her ugly duckling phase.

  “I’m not sure I agree with the reasoning, but you know Ryder better than I do.”

  Automatically, she brought her thumbnail to her mouth, but forced herself to clasp her hands together.

  “I get that you don’t see Ryder as a forever kind of guy. You don’t want to change him, whatever. But why can’t you just enjoy his company, and then let him be on his way?” Gabi asked. “Nothing wrong with having great sex with someone you trust. Enjoy yourself.”

  Katie’s heart pitched at the question. Rolled. A tiny boat on a turbulent ocean. She ran an index finger around the rim of her glass, collected salt, and licked her fingertip. “Because,” she said, “if I have sex with him, I’m gone. It would kill me to lose him. I couldn’t take the grief of it. After losing Matt, I’m too raw, too scarred.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I lied when I told him no strings attached. I didn’t really know I wasn’t telling him the truth, but I was denying it to myself, but after we had sex . . .” Katie hauled in a deep breath, didn’t say another word.

  “What?” Gabi prompted, curling her fingernails into her palm. “What is it?”

  “When I got home from LA and looked around at my life—the yurt, the farm, my past with Matt—I realized it was just a place I’d drifted into, not because I was desperately in love with Matt and wanted to be with him, but because I couldn’t have what I really wanted. And if I couldn’t have what I really wanted, what was the point? I might as well have Matt and be what he wanted me to be.”

  “What did you really want?” Gabi asked.

  Katie laughed, a dull, lifeless sound. “What do you think?”

  “Ryder?” Gabi ventured.

  Silently, Katie nodded, felt a riff of emotions sing through her—sadness, regret, doubt, fear.

  “Oh my,” Gabi whispered.

  “Yes,” she said. “When I opened the front door at the ranch yesterday afternoon, and found him standing there, it was like a freight train hit me. And I finally understood what I felt for him was no schoolgirl crush. I’m in love with that man and have been for half my life.”

  “Wow.” Gabi placed a palm over her heart. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that except I think it’s time for another round of drinks.”

  Groaning, Katie shook extra Tabasco into the Bloody Mary she was mixing. Was it enough? Should she add more? Maybe she should be adding more vodka instead. But the thought of adding more than the teaspoon she’d already put in turned her stomach.

  She’d never in her life drunk alcohol at seven o’clock in the morning, but it felt as if a twenty-piece marching band was tromping around inside her skull. If this was what a hangover felt like she was glad she skipped the hard partying in college.

  Joe once told her the cure for a hangover was more alcohol. She wasn’t so sure about that, but right now, she’d try anything to make the pounding stop. Unfortunately, this was her first time concocting a Bloody Mary and she was winging it.

  “What are you doing?”

  Katie jumped, shot a guilty gaze at Gabi, who bustled into the kitchen. “Hair of the dog. Which sounds kinda gross when you think about it.”

  “More booze is not the solution.”

  “Joe said it worked. Ouch, ouch.” Katie clasped her head. “Shh.”

  “Joe can be an idiot sometimes,” Gabi said. “I love him to pieces, but he is a guy, after all. And when it comes down to it, what do guys know about affairs of the heart?”

  Gabi took the Bloody Mary away from Katie and dumped it do
wn the sink.

  “Hey . . .” She started to protest, but shifted her voice to a whisper. “Damn, I have to stop shouting.”

  “You’re not shouting. Is this your first hangover?”

  “That obvious?”

  “Here.” Gabi guided her to a chair, got a package of frozen peas from the freezer, wrapped them in a kitchen towel, and pressed it into Katie’s hand. “Put this on your head.”

  “Thanks.” Katie put the ice pack to her right temple where it was pounding the hardest, hung her head. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I drank too much. I’m ashamed and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “No need to apologize to me. It was my fault. I’m the one who brought the vodka over. I just had no idea we’d have so many deep topics to cover.”

  “Yeah.” Katie massaged her temple. “Could you just forget all that stuff?”

  “Too late. You already confessed to being in love with Ryder.” Gabi set a glass of water and two aspirins in front of Katie. “Here, take this. And drink all the water. It’s the best I can do.”

  “You could make me another Bloody Mary.”

  “Alcohol got you into this situation. More is not going to get you out.”

  “I know, but I’m miserable.”

  “You’re lovesick. That’s what you are. Take the aspirin.”

  The minute the water hit Katie’s stomach, she got let out a groan, and that made her head thump harder. “Oww. I’m never ever drinking again.”

  Gabi took pity on her suffering. Gently, she touched Katie’s arm. “I know what it’s like to be in love and believe it’s not going to work out.”

  “It’s not going to work out. It can’t.”

  Gabi opened her mouth as if to argue, but shut it without saying anything.

  “Oh God, and now I have to go over to his father’s house and try to make sense of that chaos and Ryder will be there. Top that with a hangover and it’s all too much.”

  “Shh,” Gabi said. “Give the water and aspirin time to kick in, and as for the other stuff, just know that it will all work itself out the way it’s supposed to.”

  “Thanks.” Okay, it was trite advice, but it was the only thing Katie had to hold on to. Hope was good. Right?

  “Come on,” Gabi said. “Grab your jacket. I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

  Chapter 15

  “Up and at ’em.” Joe flung Ryder’s blue jeans at him. “Breakfast at Perks.”

  “Perks?” Ryder blinked up at his buddy from Joe’s living room couch, where he’d spent the night.

  “Coffee shop on the square, makes bitchin’ sausage croissant sandwiches. Truck’s leavin’ in five.” Joe clapped his hands.

  Yawning, Ryder sat up. He’d slept like crap, his restless mind filled with thoughts of Katie. How she’d looked last night playing trivia. How his heart lit up every time their eyes met. She was so different from the women he dated. She was so open, and unguarded, offering her feelings and smiles so freely. She led with her heart, and if he had a lick of sense he’d stay as far away from her as current circumstances allowed. He didn’t want to be the one to break that tender heart.

  “What?” Ryder asked. “We can’t stick a piece of bread in the toaster and be done with it?”

  “You need to get out and about. Make new friends in your community.”

  “For one thing,” Ryder said, sliding into his jeans, “it’s not my community, and I don’t need any new friends. I won’t be in town for that long. For another thing, when the hell did you become a morning person?”

  “When I got the Christmas tree farm from Gramps. Farmers don’t get to lie around in bed all morning. Chop-chop. Let’s go.”

  Ryder ran a hand through his shaggy hair—he needed to schedule a haircut before the wedding—pulled on a T-shift, jammed his feet into his cowboy boots, and grabbed his jacket to follow Joe out the door.

  “Why are you limping?” Joe asked as they climbed into his truck.

  Pine needles were strewn across the floorboards, and the cab smelled like Christmas. The radio spun Bruce Springsteen’s “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” Unlike most folks, Ryder got little enjoyment from Christmas music, or Christmas in general, ever since his mother died. The only time he recalled being truly happy near Christmas, after his eighth birthday, was last year when he wound up in bed with Katie. Because of that night, he liked the hell out of this song.

  And while Bruce sang about being good for goodness’ sake, he thought about Katie, and ached all over.

  “The limp?”

  “Huh?” Ryder leaned down to rub his left shin. “Was I limping?”

  “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if you weren’t.”

  “Shrapnel. Sometimes when I sleep in a cramped position it acts up.”

  “You were wounded in the war? I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?” Joe drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You should have told me.”

  “Minor.” Ryder shrugged.

  “Shrapnel in the leg doesn’t sound minor to me.”

  “Soldiers came back with body parts blown off, or didn’t come back at all, some of them from this very town. I’m damn lucky, and I know it.”

  “I don’t say it often enough, hell, we don’t talk often, but thank you for your service.”

  “Knock it off,” Ryder said, rubbing his palms together in front of the heater vent. “I was just doing my job.”

  “A job that entailed keeping my farmer ass safe.”

  Ryder didn’t like being called a hero or thanked for doing what he’d been paid to do. It embarrassed him, but apparently it made people feel good to tell members of the armed forces that their service was appreciated, so he gritted his teeth and accepted it.

  The coffee shop on the town square was packed. The store was decorated for the holidays, complete with three large Christmas trees that crowded the already cozy space. Lively conversation hung in the air along with the scent of strong coffee and bacon, as they joined the line waiting at the counter to place orders.

  “Those trees came from my farm,” Joe bragged.

  “No kidding?”

  Joe named off each variety of the trees and detailed what section of his farm they’d been grown in with a big grin.

  Ryder shook his head, disarmed by the changes in his friend. “I can’t see you as a farmer. You were the one who could never sit still, and now here you are watching trees grow for a living. What happened to the ADD?”

  “Found ways to deal with it, and here’s the kicker, working the land settles my butt right now.”

  “I thought you’d always be footloose and fancy-free. In fact, didn’t we make some kind of pact when we were in high school?”

  “Change comes to us all, buddy.” Joe laughed joyfully, and listening to him warmed Ryder from the inside out. “And change is a good thing, a great thing. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life, and expect things to keep getting better after I make Gabi my wife.”

  “You are different.” Ryder cocked his head to study his friend. Gabi had turned Joe’s life around, a complete one-eighty. Funny. Ryder saw marriage as something that stunted, rather than nourished, but he had to admit a lot of that was based on Jax and Twyla.

  “Can you ever see yourself becoming a rancher?” Joe asked.

  “No way in hell.”

  “So when your dad passes away, what’s going to happen to the Circle S?”

  “Jax is only sixty. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “Twyla was only fifty-seven,” Joe pointed out. “And your father is a diabetic who is not taking care of himself. One day, that ranch is going to be yours.”

  Ryder snorted. Why was Joe hammering on this? “Hell, for all I know he wrote me out of the will when he kicked me out of the house.”

  “But if he did leave it to you, what would you do with it?”

  “I’d sell it in a heartbeat.”

  “For real? But it’s been in your family for generations. All tha
t family history.” He shot Ryder a heavy look.

  “Too much history,” Ryder said, thinking of his mother.

  “That’s a shame,” Joe mused. “It truly is. Around here many of the old ranches are being split up, and sold off by the heirs. End of an era.”

  “It takes a lot of hard work and money to run a ranch.” Ryder massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

  “Next,” said the pixie-haired barista whose name tag identified her as Brittany. She winked at Ryder, but it bounced right off him. He wasn’t a flirt, and he wasn’t interested.

  He and Joe collected their food and found a table someone was just vacating. The second they sat down, a loud male voice hollered, “Hide your women and lock up your money, that swine Ryder Southerland is back in town!”

  Ryder cringed. He didn’t have to turn around to know who was speaking. Tumley Hudson owned the ranch next to the Circle S. He’d been trying to buy Jax out for as long as Ryder could remember and he’d hated Ryder ever since Tumley’s daughter asked Ryder to the prom and he’d turned her down because he wasn’t going. The man was a snapping turtle when it came to holding grudges.

  “You could always sell the ranch to Tumley,” Joe mused, taking a bite out of his breakfast sandwich.

  “Not funny.” Ryder growled.

  A heavy hand smashed down on Ryder’s shoulder.

  He glanced up into the face of the grizzled old coot who had brandished a shotgun at Ryder when he was eleven, for taking a shortcut home from school across his property. Tumley had served in Vietnam, and couldn’t seem to let go of the anger that war had stirred in him.

  “Hey boys.” Tumley glanced over this shoulder at “the boys,” a group of older men sitting in the corner watching the exchange with amusement. “Should we call Sheriff Hondo and give him a heads-up that this riffraff is on the loose?” Tumley grinned, flashing a mouthful of nicotine-stained teeth.

  On the surface it was a joke. Ha. Ha. The bad boy returns to the town that done him wrong and he has to take whatever shit the locals dish out or prove he deserves the reputation. But Tumley’s fingers were biting into Ryder’s shoulder, and there was nothing friendly about that smile.