Dr. Jameson had tilted his hat over his eyes but popped to attention when she climbed in next to him. “Everything good?”
“Yes.” Was it, though? “I might be applying for that job sooner than I planned.”
They pulled to the front of Holt’s cabin in less than three minutes. Now that the moment was upon her, she needed more time. She sat in the truck and stared out the windscreen.
“I’d offer to help, but I think I’d just be in the way.” Dr. Jameson winked and Claire laughed nervously.
She hopped out, retrieved the tree, and stopped at Dr. Jameson’s lowered window. “Thank you for the ride and everything else. Wish me luck?”
“You won’t need it. That boy is crazy about you.”
Claire waited until Dr. Jameson had turned the truck around before she climbed the steps to Holt’s front door. She punched the butterflies back into her stomach and knocked. He opened the door and it was all Claire could do not to throw herself into his arms.
“Claire? What in the world? I thought you were leaving with your parents.” Holt looked at her as if she was a ghost. Then his gaze fell to the tree and he gave a surprised guffaw. “That is a Charlie Brown Christmas tree if I ever did see one.”
“Who is Charlie Brown? Does he live in Highland?” Why were they talking about another man at this very important moment?
“I’ll introduce you to him and his gang later.”
“I brought the tree for you.” She cleared her throat. “For us. You deserve a Christmas miracle too.”
Any humor disappeared and his eyes darkened. “What does this mean exactly? Spell it out to me as if I’m the village idiot.”
“It means…” She moistened her dry lips. “I signed away my inheritance. It will go into a trust, and I won’t receive a penny.”
“You gave all that up? For me?”
“Not just for you. For me too. For Ms. Meadows. For Highland. I don’t want to live as my family’s pawn, but I thought I had no other choice.” She shifted on her feet. “The papers have been signed and witnessed, and even though I spent my last five dollars on this tree, I feel richer than anyone on earth.”
Holt took the tree out of her hands and set it inside the cabin against the wall. Then he took her hands, drew her inside the warm coziness, and shut the door. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you something very important today.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you too.”
She smiled and stepped into his arms, holding him tight and closing her eyes. “Is this real?”
“Are miracles real?” he shot back.
“I would have said no before meeting you, but I’ve become a true believer.” She pushed back from his chest. “I stopped to see Ms. Meadows before coming here. She said you made an offer on her house and land. I thought the farm couldn’t support another loan?”
“It couldn’t. I took out a personal loan. A mortgage, actually. It’s high time I moved into a real house off the farm. Ms. Meadows’s house is perfect. Close enough to be here fast in case of emergency but far enough away, I won’t feel like I’m living with my parents.”
“You’re planning to live there.”
“Yep.” His gaze darted away and then back. “With you, if you want.”
“Yes, I want. I want more than anything.”
“I swore off Christmas tonight, but looks like I’ll be celebrating after all. Let’s decorate our tree, and then I’ll introduce you to Charlie Brown.”
Our tree. The simple words brought home to her that she wasn’t on her own anymore. She had a partner, a friend, a lover. She had been in search of somewhere she could feel at home all her life. Never had she stopped to consider her destination might not be a place but a person.
She was the luckiest Highlander who had ever come to town.
Epilogue
Holt lay in bed awake with Claire cuddled next to him like a hibernating bear. A cute, sexy hibernating bear. He never lollygagged in bed. Since he’d been old enough to walk, he’d risen at dawn to trail after his mom and dad while they took care of the farm.
From age six, he’d had his own list of chores to complete before school. Chores didn’t do themselves on weekends either. In high school, he’d had to drag himself out of bed at sunrise tired and hungover to feed the chickens and gather eggs on Saturday mornings. Rising early had become his routine, and he enjoyed watching the world wake.
Having Claire in his bed moved a to-do item to the top of his list, and it wouldn’t be a chore to perform. Turning into her, he kissed her to a sleepy wakefulness and made love to her, slowly and with a tenderness she returned in full measure.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered already snuggling back into the cocoon of blankets. Her tousled hair stuck up at odd angles. She peeked over the edge of the blanket. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything wrapped and under the tree for you to open.”
“You in my bed is present enough.”
While he couldn’t see her mouth, her eyes crinkled in a smile. “This Christmas is already the best one ever and the sun is barely up.”
He lifted the comforter enough to brush his lips over hers. “I have everything I want and need right here. Why don’t you snooze a little longer while I see to the chores?”
“I can help.” She pushed herself to her elbows, but he pressed her back down to the pillows.
“I know you can, but picturing you naked and waiting here will motivate me to get everything done lickety-split. Then we’ve got to get to cooking, and based on my past performance, you will have to take the lead.”
Claire’s parents had stayed in Highland and were coming for Christmas dinner. Holt did not anticipate a merry, laid-back dinner with Sir Glennallen in attendance. While they had been scrupulously polite to Holt, it was clear her parents were trying to figure out why Claire had chosen him and Highland over the status and wealth she could have claimed. Holt wasn’t going to question the luck of the universe.
“As long as we have corn bread dressing, Ms. Meadows will be happy.” Claire stretched under the covers and burrowed deeper into the pillow.
“Corn bread dressing we can manage. Maybe. I’ll get the coffee brewing.” Holt left her, knowing she’d be there when he returned. It was not something he would take for granted.
Wrapping a hand around the hot coffee mug, he toed the front door open and enjoyed the streaks of sun over the trees. The crunch of gravel under tires had him tilting his ear toward the farm lane. He couldn’t see who had arrived. The farmhands had the day off, and there were no emergencies for Dr. Jameson to handle.
He pulled on his boots and jacket and hopped into his truck to investigate. He brake-checked when he topped the rise to see his parents’ RV parked in front of the main house and then hit the gas pedal so hard, his back tires spun.
He met his mother coming out of the front door. Wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug, he lifted her off the ground. “What in the world are you doing here? You’re supposed to be soaking up the Florida sun.”
“I missed you and the house and my goats.” His mom laughed and returned his hug.
“I’m glad I rank slightly above your goats.” He set her back down when his dad emerged from the RV carrying a suitcase.
After giving his dad a half hug, Holt took the suitcase out of his hand and hauled it inside. His mom rolled it toward the laundry room. His dad nodded his head toward the kitchen and Holt followed and watched his dad measure out coffee for the maker.
“You could have called and let me know you were coming. I would have made sure the house was in decent shape.” Holt also could have given them a heads-up about Claire and the dinner taking place that evening.
Holt hadn’t mentioned Claire yet. At first, it was because he’d thought she’d be long gone before they came home. And later, he hadn’t wanted to shatter the fragile happiness cocooning them.
His dad pulled down three mugs. “The closer we got to Christmas, the more restless and unhappy I f
elt. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed our travels, but if I’m going to settle down, I’d rather do it in Highland. Two days ago, I put my foot down and told her we were headed home for Christmas and I wasn’t accepting any arguments.”
“What did Mom do?” Holt climbed up onto one the bar stools.
“I swear I barely got the words out of my mouth before she started packing. She had been wanting to come home too, but hadn’t wanted to hurt my feelings.” His dad’s laugh boomed around the kitchen. He poured two mugs of coffee, slid one to Holt, and leaned over the bar on his elbows. “Fill me in on all the goings-on around the farm and town.”
Holt didn’t know where to start, but he definitely needed to mention the woman currently in his bed. Maybe not right off, though. “Anna Maitland is expecting and marrying Iain Connors in less than a week. She asked me to give her away.”
His mom, who had always had a sixth sense for gossip, came jogging into the kitchen. “Wait for me!” She poured herself a coffee and took the stool on his left.
He told them about the impending wedding and all about the successful Burns Night festival. Tentatively, he dipped his toe in more personal conversational waters. “While you were gone, there were some neighborly developments.”
“I heard tell Johnston was looking to sell some of his cattle. Have you given them a once-over?” his dad asked. Mr. Johnston’s farm abutted theirs on the north side. The Johnston house was a good fifteen miles down the road, but he was technically their next-door neighbor.
“No, and our fields can’t support any more heads. I’m actually referring to Ms. Meadows.”
“That old bat? What did she want?” His dad regressed into a petulance that would rival any teenager’s.
“Dad,” Holt admonished. “I’m going to make sure Preacher Hopkins puts you in a sermon if you can’t locate a scrap of love for thy neighbor.”
“You wouldn’t be so quick to judge if that same neighbor pulled a gun on you and told you how far south you could go.” His dad set his coffee mug down with a thump.
“Actually, she did pull a gun on me,” Holt said blandly. “She doesn’t even own bullets. And she happens to be a very nice lady who needed us. We let her down.”
“I offered a fair price for her land, and she turned me down flat.”
“It’s her land and house, and she has every right to tell you no.” Holt shifted toward his mother. “You need to tell him no more often. Get him used to it.”
“Holt’s right, dear. You are partial to getting your way.” His mom smiled sweetly at her husband over the rim of her mug before taking a sip.
“She fell over the summer, did you know?” Holt asked.
His dad hummed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Preacher Hopkins might have mentioned it. But he said she hadn’t broken anything and that he was looking for some help for her. He didn’t ask anything of me.”
Holt could almost smell the guilt coming off his dad and decided against piling on. “Preacher Hopkins did find him help. Her name is Claire Glennallen.”
“Like the whisky?” his dad asked.
“Her great-great-grandfather founded the distillery.”
“That’s good I suppose. Responsibility averted. We already have enough to worry about anyway.” His dad’s serenity was restored.
His mom stared at Holt with a more discriminating eye. “How old is Claire?”
“Twenty-five tomorrow.” Holt didn’t flinch under his mom’s gaze.
“You know her birthday. How serious is it?” his mom asked.
“Serious? What?” His dad’s gaze darted back and forth between them.
“Claire is at the cabin sleeping in. It’s been a crazy week since the festival.”
His mom’s mouth hung slack for a few disbelieving blinks before a smile wiped away the tiredness of the journey home. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Get ready, because you’re fixing to meet her and her parents. We’re cooking Christmas dinner for them.”
“Where?” his dad asked.
“Here.” Holt shook his head. “Didn’t think you were coming back. Although now that you’re here, we could use some help in the kitchen, Mom.”
“I made your dad stop yesterday for groceries. We can make them stretch.” His mom slid off the stool and pulled down a cookbook with handwritten recipes and flipped through, pulling out cards.
“One more thing,” Holt said. His parents stopped what they were doing and gave him their full attention. “Ms. Meadows is coming for dinner too. And I bought her place.”
“What?” His parents spoke in unison.
“I know, it’s crazy. She decided to move into the assisted living place at the edge of town. They had an opening, and Claire got her settled yesterday.”
His dad rubbed his hands together. “No, this is good. We can raze the house and cut a path to—”
“We’re not razing the house. I’m moving into it. With Claire. We’ve already talked to Iain Connors about renovations.”
Shock silenced his parents.
Holt drained his mug and rose. “I’ve got chores to see to. Want to come along, Dad?”
Holt and his dad slipped into an easy camaraderie while completing the mundane, everyday chores that kept the farm running. It was good to have his dad back, but something subtle had shifted. His dad had started to defer to him. It felt … strange, yet right.
Back at the main house, Holt washed up in the sink. “Before you guys run down to the cabin, I need to prepare Claire. We weren’t expecting you, and she’s already nervous about her parents coming over.”
His mom chuffed. “Gracious, we’re not going to eat her.” Then, more thoughtfully, she asked, “Why would she be nervous about having dinner with her parents?”
“They’ve been estranged for a few years and are starting to mend things. It might be awkward.”
His mom gave him an eye roll. “I hosted a luncheon between the Baptist and Methodist women’s groups. I can handle awkward.”
Holt smiled and gave his mom a hug. “I missed you. Also, your goats are bored and humping each other constantly.”
Holt left them to finish unpacking. Claire was puttering around the kitchen when he returned. She made his plaid button-up look sexy. Bending over to check the crisper, she gave him a peek at her pink panties. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her neck. The scent of his shampoo and soap clung to her hair and skin, heady and provocative.
“That didn’t take as long as I expected,” she said. “I hope you didn’t shirk your responsibilities for my sake.”
“I thought about saying to hell with everything and staying in bed with you all day, but Maureen would get mad and eat stinkweed again.” He trailed his lips up her neck to nip her earlobe. “Actually, I had help. Mom and Dad came home early. They wanted to be here for Christmas.”
She turned in his arms, the smile on her face stiff. “That’s brilliant.”
“I know it’s a shock.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“They’ll like you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Even better, Mom is going to lead the kitchen brigade. I’ll take you up there in a bit to introduce you.”
“What about Ms. Meadows? Will your father behave?”
“After the riot act I read him this morning for not being a proper neighbor, he better or else I’ll make sure Preacher Hopkins rains down fire and brimstone from the pulpit right on his head next Sunday.”
Her body loosened, and she pressed her cheek into his chest. He swept her into a cradle hold. Her squeal was half surprise, half laughter. He put on his terrible fake brogue because it made her smile every time. “I love you, you daft woman.”
She kissed him with her lips curved into a grin. The bedroom was too far. He dropped her on the couch and settled over her, his hand skating up her thigh. The front door opened with a blast of cool air.
Holt and Claire turned their heads at the same time, breaki
ng the kiss. His parents stood framed in the doorway. Holt scrambled to his feet, feeling like an adolescent. “You two are going to have to start knocking.”
“I’m sorry, Holt. We got impatient.” His mom looked like she’d been out in the sun too long.
“It’s only been like ten minutes!”
Claire tugged at the hem of his shirt and squirmed.
“Claire Glennallen. My parents, Sarah and Robert.” Holt gestured between them.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Claire had the look of a hunted doe. “I think the world of Holt.”
“Then we already have something in common.” His mom grabbed the back of her husband’s shirt and pulled him out of the cabin. “Claire, darling, when you’re ready, come on up to the house, and we’ll tackle Christmas dinner.”
Claire and Holt remained frozen until they heard the sound of his dad’s truck back up.
“Tell me that didn’t just happen,” Claire whispered.
“Oh, it happened. We need to be sure to lock the doors until we move into Ms. Meadows’s house. My parents are used to unrestricted access. Why don’t you get dressed while I shower and we’ll try not to die of embarrassment together.”
The next four hours were spent cooking Christmas dinner. Even Holt’s dad pitched in. Any initial embarrassment dissipated under the charm offensive his mom launched to win Claire over. Of course Claire found stories about his childhood and adolescence endlessly amusing. He had a feeling old photo albums would be dragged out after dinner.
Claire and Holt picked up Ms. Meadows, who had moved into a cozy efficiency apartment with a mini-kitchen in the assisted living facility. She’d already been to Atlanta to watch The Nutcracker with several of the other residents. Holt got her settled on the couch with a glass of wine. Holt’s dad sat in the armchair, and they talked. Holt kept an eye on them but didn’t interrupt.
He found Claire setting the table with all the care of a visit from the queen herself. Her nerves were like crackles of lightning all around her. “How does it look?”
“Fancier than any Christmas dinner we’ve ever had. One year, Dad and I came in after seeing to a laboring horse and ate covered in muck.”
A Highlander is Coming to Town Page 24