Madison loved to sing, even though her friends encouraged her not to. No matter what they said, she didn’t believe she sounded that bad. Her confidence returned as she belted out the empowering lyrics. The town of Christmas wouldn’t know what hit them. She’d have them eating out of her hand in no time once she expounded on the evils of bringing corporate America to their sleepy little town.
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She’d been on the road for over three hours. According to the map, she should be approaching the turnoff to Christmas right about now. Perfect. There it was. If the meeting went as planned, she’d be back on the road by 2:00, which meant the most hair-raising part of her drive would still be in daylight.
Her breath caught as she made the turn. The town, nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains, looked like it belonged in a snow globe. Sunlight sparkled on snow-laden evergreens and danced off the pastel-painted wooden buildings in the distance. It was postcard perfect and exactly the ammunition Madison needed to convince the town that Hartwell Enterprises had done them a favor by backing out of the deal.
She’d focus on the town’s positive attributes and not the negatives that had made the case against them. Like this road, she thought, her good mood evaporating as her tires spun out beneath her. She slowed to a crawl, a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. Three-quarters of the way down the treacherous hill, as she was about to release the breath she’d been holding, a movement to her right caught her attention. A deer leaped from the woods, darting in front of her. She braked hard, the car fishtailing as she slid along the road. From behind a cluster of evergreens at the side of the road, a twelve-foot Santa holding a “Welcome to Christmas” sign seemingly sprang out in front of her like a giant jack-in-the-box.
Madison screamed. Her foot mistakenly jumped to the gas instead of the brake. She watched in slow-motion horror as the car kept moving and crashed into the sign. Santa loomed, teetered, then fell on the hood, his maniacal, smiling face leering at her through the cracked windshield.
Her last thought before the airbag slammed into her face was that she’d finally succeeded in killing Santa.
Chapter Two
Sheriff Gage McBride stood in the doorway of the old town hall, scanning the familiar faces in the standing-room-only crowd for the one person who could turn the law-abiding citizens of Christmas into a teeth-gnashing mob in ten seconds flat.
His great-aunt Nell.
Gage loved his aunt. She’d stepped in when his wife left him eight years ago with a nine-month-old and a four-year-old to raise on his own. But it didn’t mean he was blind to her faults.
“Where’s your riot gear?” Ethan O’Connor, the mayor of Christmas, asked as he came up beside him.
A reluctant smile tugged the corner of Gage’s mouth at his best friend’s question. “I figure once I find out where Nell’s sitting, I’ll park myself where she can see me, and we’ll be good.”
Ethan snorted. “Yeah, right. And I can tell you exactly where she is.” He leaned past the door, pointing toward the front of the room. “Front row center. She ambushed me as soon as I arrived at the office this morning. Gave me a headache with her suggestions as to how we can change Ms. Lane’s mind, then browbeat me until I let her in an hour before we opened the doors.”
Gage groaned. “Are you nuts? You know better than to leave her on her own for that long. She’s probably built a bomb and stashed it under the podium.”
He wasn’t kidding. His aunt had been an engineer at the mine before it folded forty years ago. At times, Gage questioned his sanity for having his daughters, Annie and Lily, spend so much time with her. But they loved Nell as much as she loved them, and deep down he knew she’d never knowingly put them in danger. It was the unknowingly part he wasn’t too sure about. In the end, he went with the lesser of two evils. It was either let Nell look after his daughters when he was at work or one of the single women who vied for the position of Mrs. McBride Number Two.
“She wasn’t alone. Ted and Fred were with her,” Ethan added.
“Aw, hell, there’s no stopping her with those two egging her on.” Today had shitshow written all over it. Gage studied his friend. “You don’t honestly believe this meeting is going to affect Hartwell’s decision, do you?”
A pained expression on his face, Ethan glanced into the room filled with people who saw the resort as the last hope for their town’s survival. “I wish I did. But no, I’m a realist. Ms. Lane’s report didn’t leave much room for optimism.”
Gage had read the twenty or so pages crammed with graphs, statistics, and projections, along with a damning summary that listed the many reasons why his town didn’t make the grade. He got the impression the woman who’d produced the report cared more about numbers than people. Cold and uncompromising, with no thought as to what her decision meant to the citizens of Christmas.
“So why’s she coming?”
Ethan shrugged. “Not sure. When Hartwell called to set up the meeting yesterday, he said she’d explain why they decided not to go through with the deal. Interesting thing, though. I heard from his nephew a couple of hours ago. He intimated that we shouldn’t give up. As far as he’s concerned, the deal isn’t over. But I don’t think we can pin our hopes on him. It’s his uncle’s company, and Ms. Lane apparently has the old man’s ear. From what Joe Hartwell said, he stands by her report. She’s supposedly brilliant and has never steered him wrong in the past.”
“Don’t let Nell catch wind of the nephew’s opinion. She’ll never be able to let this go if she hears what he said.”
“Nell hasn’t given up, not by a long shot. She has this idea in her head that if she can convince Ms. Lane to stay in town for a few days, she’ll fall in love with Christmas. Or better yet, one of us, and then the deal will be as good as done.”
Gage rolled his eyes. “The woman is delusional.”
“I don’t know. Ms. Lane is a beautiful woman.”
He gave his friend a you’ve-lost-it look. “Yeah, and the belladonna is a beautiful flower. But be my guest, buddy. Take one for the team.”
“Maybe I will. Lately I’ve been too busy to get out of town.” Ethan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It’s been so long I’m beginning to feel like a monk.”
Unfortunately, Gage knew how he felt. Like Ethan, he was careful not to scratch his itch in his own backyard. In a town the size of Christmas, it wouldn’t be long before the gossip reached his daughters’ ears. If he wanted a relationship, that would be different, but he didn’t. He had enough on his plate raising his two girls. Especially Annie, who at twelve, was making him feel a hell of lot older than his thirty-six years.
Ms. Lane’s picture from the Times came to mind: blonde hair scraped back from a cold, emotionless face; thick glasses resting on a condescending blade of a nose above lips pinched thin in disdain. “Good luck with that. The woman looks about as passionate as a block of ice.”
“I like a challenge.” Ethan winked then grinned. “You might want to make your escape now. Here comes the I Want to Marry Sheriff McBride Fan Club.”
“Gage. Yoo-hoo,” a chorus of feminine voices hollered from behind him.
“Too late,” Ethan chuckled, as Gage looked over his shoulder.
He forced a smile for the three women barreling toward him. If you went by what they were wearing, the town hall meeting seemed to be the highlight of their social calendar. Their winter jackets were open to show off tight sweaters paired with short skirts and high-heeled leather boots. He prayed Annie wouldn’t get a load of their getups. The black Goth look she now sported had nearly given him heart failure, but it was better than her wearing skirts that barely covered her butt.
“Oh, Gage, I’m so glad you’re all right. I heard you nearly went through the ice rescuing those boys last night.” Brandi squeezed his leather-clad arm.
Hailey grabbed his hand. “Dr. Trainer was singing your praises when he dropped by the diner this morning. Those boys are lucky you were a paramedic
before you joined the force.”
Heat climbed Gage’s face. He’d have to have a word with Matt, the doctor who’d taken over for Gage’s dad while he was away on vacation. “That’s nice of Doc to say, but I was—”
“Now, don’t you be hiding your light under a rock—”
“Bushel, Holly, it’s a bushel,” Hailey corrected her twin sister, rolling her heavily made-up eyes.
“I know that,” Holly snapped, then turned a megawatt smile on Gage. “Don’t you go trying to deny it, Gage McBride, you’re a hero. I baked your favorite chocolate cake for you.”
Brandi frowned. “His favorite is lemon cake, isn’t it, Gage?”
“No, he likes—” Hailey began.
Ethan intervened. “Ladies, I’m sure Sheriff McBride would love anything you make for him, but you might want to get in there and grab a seat before there’s none to be had.”
The trio promised to drop off their baked goods later that night, then took Ethan’s advice, sashaying their way into the hall.
“You’re my hero,” Ethan said in a perfect falsetto, fluttering his lashes.
Gage shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, scowling at his friend. “You think it’s funny, but you don’t have to deal with Annie’s death glares when they stop by under the pretext of dropping off food.”
“Still having problems with her?”
“She got suspended for fighting two days ago. Nell tried to make me feel better by telling me she was just like Annie at her age.” As if he didn’t have enough to worry about.
Ethan laughed then sobered. “Do you think Annie’s fighting has anything to do with Sheena not showing up for Thanksgiving?”
“On top of the problems she’s having at school, it didn’t help.” He was still furious at his ex for bailing a day before the holiday. But he shouldn’t have been surprised. Sheena was notorious for not keeping her promises. Her no-shows didn’t bother Lily, who’d only been nine months old when Sheena left, but they were tough on Annie. He’d hoped his ex-wife would grow up and not be so self-absorbed, but given her star status in the country music scene, he didn’t see that happening any time soon.
“Did you talk to Sheena about Christmas?”
“She says she’ll be here, but I’m not holding my breath.” The noise level in the hall ratcheted up a notch. “I better get in there.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Gage caught the underlying weariness in his friend’s voice and turned back. After Ethan’s father suffered a fatal heart attack, the town had begged Ethan, an ADA in Denver, to replace him as mayor. Deacon O’Connor had left big shoes to fill, and right about now, Gage figured Ethan must be feeling like he hadn’t done a very good job filling them. All because of Madison Lane. Gage couldn’t help but resent the woman for putting the look of defeat in his best friend’s eyes.
“Don’t sweat it, buddy. We’ll figure something out. We’ll get the development committee back up and running. Put Aunt Nell in charge.”
“Don’t mention that to Nell until we get Ms. Lane the hell out of Dodge. She’s liable to think kidnapping the woman and holding her for ransom would be a good way to fill the coffers.”
Given his impression of Ms. Lane, Gage said, “I doubt anyone would pay to get her back.”
His radio crackled to life. “Sheriff… Sheriff McBride, we’ve got a problem.”
“What’s up, Ray?”
“You know that lady from Hartwell we’re expecting? Well, she crashed into our welcome sign, and then, Santa, he kinda fell on top of her.”
“Is she injured?” Gage asked as he moved toward the doors.
“Her face is a little beat up. Would’ve been worse if she hadn’t been going so slow. You should’ve seen her, Sheriff. She was practically crawling down the road. I was thinking about ticketing her just before that deer ran out in front of her.”
There was another crackle from the radio, and an outraged female voice came on.
“Me? You were going to give me a ticket? You people are crazy. Who for the love of God had the brilliant idea to have Santa leap out of the woods at unsuspecting drivers? I should sue. Look at that face. I’m going to have nightmares.”
“Ma’am, it’s Santa…”
Gage lowered his radio. “She really is a Grinch.”
“No, ma’am, that’s police property. Give it back.”
“Who is this?” the woman demanded in a haughty tone of voice.
Ethan punched him in the arm. Gage rolled his eyes and waved him off. “Sheriff McBride, ma’am. Now—”
“Y’all seem to think this Grinch business is very funny. But I don’t. You people have ruined my reputation and…” She sniffed.
Gage sighed. He was a sucker for a crying woman. And while Madison Lane might be responsible for stealing the hopes and dreams of his friends and family, she’d been hurt. Besides that, she had a point. He’d been against the vehicle-activated Santa for the very reason Ms. Lane had pointed out. Only he’d been overruled. Again.
He shoved his personal feelings aside. “Calm down, Ms. Lane. Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Calm. You expect me to be calm? Your stupid Santa broke my nose!”
“Ray,” he said loud enough for his deputy to hear him, “wrap her in a blanket, but don’t move her. I’ll be there in a minute.” He shut off the radio and scrubbed his face. “If I didn’t want to tie up the ambulance, I’d call them and send Jill,” he muttered, referring to his other deputy. “I’m not sure I can keep from strangling that woman.”
“Go be a hero. Maybe she’ll join your fan club.”
He shuddered at the thought. “No thanks. I don’t want her. You can have her.”
“Good idea. These days my fan club consists of women who come with their own oxygen tanks.”
As Gage got in his Suburban, he figured Ms. Lane was lucky they only had the one reporter in town and he was sitting in the town hall, or tomorrow’s headline would read: The Grinch Who Killed Santa.
* * *
Not so lucky after all, Gage thought a few minutes later, as three separate sets of news crews from Denver scrambled from their white vans. Gage took in the damage to Ms. Lane’s SUV and radioed Jill, requesting her presence at the town hall to handle the press. He caught a glimpse of a pale face through disheveled blonde hair, oversized sunglasses resting on a red nose.
He got off the radio, flicked on the siren and lights, and leaned on his horn. Six men and three women leaped out of his way as he angled the Suburban between them and Ms. Lane’s vehicle. Grabbing the first aid kit from the back seat, he slammed the door. “Don’t even think about it,” he said as they lunged forward. “Ray, get them out of here.”
“Come on, Sheriff, give us a break,” one of the men yelled.
“Deputy, if they’re not gone from here in two minutes, ticket them.” Gage rounded the back end of the SUV. Ms. Lane didn’t turn his way as he approached the open door. It looked as if her eyes were closed behind the sunglasses.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’ll be on the front pages again, won’t I? They’re going to say I killed Santa. Joe…” She dabbed at her nose while slowly turning her head to face him.
Carefully, he removed her sunglasses. She blinked up at him. And all he could think was the picture in the Times had done Madison Lane an injustice. Despite her red nose and puffy lips, or maybe because of them, she bore no resemblance to the woman in the photo. She was younger than he’d expected, her features sweetly feminine. She looked delicate and vulnerable, and all his protective instincts came roaring to the surface.
He shook off the disconcerting reaction. “It would be easier for me to check you out if you bring your legs around,” he said, his voice unexpectedly rough.
She blinked again then drew her denim-blue eyes from his face to the airbag. “Oh, I… okay.”
He lifted the deflated bag from her lap while she swung long legs clad in slim black pants over the si
de, setting her practical black leather boots on the running board.
“No problem moving your legs, no pain anywhere?” he asked, as he set the first aid kit beside her feet.
“No. I didn’t hurt anything other than my nose and mouth.” She touched her bee-stung lips. Her gaze shot to his. “Oh, God, they feel…” She grabbed the visor and angled it to study her face. “I look like one of those women whose plastic surgery went wrong.”
He fought back a smile. “I doubt anyone will notice. The swelling should go down in a day or so.”
She was too busy examining her mouth to respond, or so he thought until she pinned him with a disbelieving stare. “I have Kewpie-doll lips, and you don’t think anyone will notice?”
He had to get her to stop talking about her lips so he could stop staring at them. Because right now they looked pretty damn tempting, and he couldn’t help thinking what it would feel like to kiss her pouty mouth.
Ignoring her question, he said, “From the way you’re moving your head around, I take it you have no pain in your neck?” At a screech of tires, he dragged his gaze from hers as one of the news vans sped by. Ray, leaning against the second van, was chatting up one of the female reporters. “Deputy, what part of ‘Move them out’ didn’t you understand?”
“Right, Sheriff, I’m on it,” Ray said with a two-finger salute.
“Thank you for not letting them take a picture of me,” Ms. Lane murmured, glancing in the direction of the reporters.
“Just doing my job.” Gage gently clasped her jaw and, with two fingers, nudged her chin up to check her pupils for signs of a concussion. He frowned. “You didn’t get the bruise on the bridge of your nose from your run-in with Santa. It’s at least a day old.”
Her lips flattened—as much as they could given how swollen they were. She winced before saying, “No, I didn’t. Because of the lies you people had printed about me yesterday, there were protesters outside my office swinging their stupid Grinch signs. One hit me and broke my glasses.” She stabbed a finger in his chest. “I am not a Grinch, and I am not trying to kill Christmas.”
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