A Cold Creek Christmas Surprise

by RaeAnne Thayne

  She swallowed. Oh. This was certainly unexpected.

  She couldn’t think or breathe or move. Love. How on earth had that happened? She couldn’t be in love with him. She had only just met the man.

  Common sense told her she was crazy, but she couldn’t argue with the fragile tenderness fluttering through her.

  Her heart would be broken into tiny jagged pieces when she left Pine Gulch.

  She thought she enjoyed her life in San Diego. Her students, dinners out with friends, kayaking in Mission Bay. But right now, on this cold Christmas Eve, the idea of returning to her life seemed bleak and disheartening.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

  Everything. She swallowed hard again. “Why do you ask?”

  “You looked, I don’t know, almost bereft for a moment. Is it your arm? It’s probably aching in this cold, isn’t it?”

  “A little,” she said, seizing on the ready excuse.

  “You pushed yourself too hard today. Somebody who’s only a few days out from a broken arm shouldn’t be making cookies and gift wrapping.”

  Gift wrapping was probably a stretch to describe the clumsy job she did packaging the few little things she had managed to find in her luggage to give the two of them.

  “It was a wonderful day, Ridge. Thank you for allowing me to be part of it.”

  “We’re the ones who should be thanking you. Those are mighty fine snickerdoodles. I’m really glad I have a couple more to go home to. As soon as Des comes out from chatting with Mrs. Thatcher, we’ll head back to the ranch. The spuds you and Destry threw in the oven ought to be just about ready, and it won’t take me long to grill up some steaks. Then you can get some rest.”

  She didn’t want to rest. In a few days’ time she would be back amid the seashore and sunshine of Southern California, and this would all seem like a distant dream. She wanted to savor every moment now, while she could.

  As if on cue, Destry opened the door and came out carrying an overflowing basket.

  Beside her, Ridge chuckled. “That’s Ruthanne for you. She’s probably afraid Des and I are going to wither away and starve without Caidy. She doesn’t know we have all the leftover wedding food, not to mention about three months’ worth of meals my sister stored up in the freezer for us.”

  Destry’s flashlight beam lit up the night as she climbed back into the sleigh. “She’s the nicest lady. I gave her one plate of cookies and ended up with this huge basket. A loaf of bread, homemade blackberry jam, some of that fancy cheese you like from the dairy in town, Dad. She said she had been planning to run it to the ranch tonight to thank us for shoveling her out.”

  “Well, then, I’m glad we saved her a trip. She would have slid all over the place with that old sedan of hers.”

  After much tucking and shifting, Destry was once more snuggled beneath the blankets with Sarah. When she was settled, Ridge glanced down at both of them.

  “Well, ladies, should we head back for some Christmas dinner before all the goodies Mrs. Thatcher gave us freeze out here in the cold?”

  “I am kind of starving,” Destry said. “But take the long way back, okay? I want to go past my friend Kurt’s house. He texted a picture of this awesome snowman family he and his brothers made.”

  “Snowmen, coming up.” Ridge clicked his tongue to the horse. “Gee, Bob.”

  With Ridge guiding at the reins, the horse turned a corner at the next street, bells jingling. Sarah snuggled under the blanket and vowed to enjoy every moment of this one magical night she would have with them.

  * * *

  This was turning into his best Christmas ever.

  It was loads better than the year he turned seventeen, when his dad had given him the keys to an old Chevrolet Silverado pickup truck. Better, even, than the first Christmas after Destry was born, when he still thought he might have half a chance at salvaging his marriage.

  Christmas had always been his parents’ favorite season, particularly his mother’s. She would decorate the ranch house to the hilt, with trees in every room, fresh-cut garlands dripping from the mantel and the staircases, candles in every window.

  Christmas music would play through the house from a few weeks before Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day, until none of them could bear to jingle one more damn bell.

  After his parents were murdered, the holidays took on a bittersweet tone for each of them.

  He thought Caidy might have been most affected—with reason. She had been a sixteen-year-old girl, the only one of them not out on her own. The night of the murders, she had been home with Margaret and Frank and had ended up huddling on the floor of the kitchen pantry where their mother had shoved her at the first sign of intruders, where she had been forced to listen to her mother’s dying moments.

  For a long time, all of them had pretended to be overflowing with Christmas spirit for Destry’s sake.

  This year, for the first time since that awful Christmas season, he could actually claim his excitement was genuine.

  The evening had been filled with laughter and fun. After the sleigh ride, he and Destry had quickly taken care of Bob and the sleigh and then returned to the house to finish dinner preparations.

  The steaks had taken almost no time to grill while the girls performed an impromptu Christmas carol concert at the piano, with Sarah pecking out notes with one hand and Destry singing along.

  Now they sat in the dining room with the candles lit and more soft, jazzy Christmas music playing out of the speakers.

  “That was a delicious steak,” Sarah said to him now, that soft smile lighting up her delicate features. “I enjoyed every bite, though it was a little humiliating that Destry had to cut it up for me.”

  “Anytime,” his daughter said with a grin.

  The two of them had developed a fast friendship. All evening, they seemed to have laughed together just as much as Destry did with Gabi. It warmed him to see it, even as he admitted to a few reservations.

  His natural paternal instinct was to protect his daughter from hurt, even as he accepted that she needed to navigate a few little bumps in the road along the way in order to become a strong, capable woman and know how to handle the inevitable stresses in life.

  But he had already failed to pick a loving woman to be her mother. Because of his poor choice, she would always have that void where her mother should have been.

  Like it or not, she had suffered another emotional bump with Caidy’s marriage.

  How would she deal with one more loss of a friendship, even a fresh one, when Sarah returned to San Diego?

  How would he?

  He listened to their chatter while he tried to process how she could have become so important to both of them in such a short time.

  He thought of those tender moments on the sleigh, the connection that had shivered and seethed between them. He was beginning to care about her deeply—and the idea of it scared the hell out of him.

  He hadn’t been looking for this. If somebody had asked him, he would have said he was perfectly content with the way his life had been going, that he didn’t need anybody.

  His marriage to Melinda had been such a hot mess he had just about decided he wasn’t good at that sort of thing. Better to just stay single, raise his daughter, build the ranch. Maybe someday, long into the future when Destry was in high school or something, he could start thinking about a relationship. Something safe and solid and comfortable.

  Suddenly Sarah tumbled into his life with her warm eyes and sweet smile.

  He had it bad. He couldn’t be in the same room with her without wanting to kiss her, taste her, touch her.

  He pushed away his plate. Spending this magical Christmas Eve with her had only reinforced how empty his world was the rest of the time.

  “What now?” Destry asked. “W
e could watch Elf again. Sarah never saw the end.”

  He enjoyed the movie, but he didn’t necessarily want to watch it for the second time in as many days. “How about my favorite? It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “I guess,” Destry said. “I do like that one, too. I’ll pop the popcorn.”

  “After you just had a steak dinner? How about we pass on the popcorn?”

  “I’ll pop some just in case we want some later,” Destry said.

  A short time later, they settled into the family room in roughly the same spots they had been for the previous movie, with him in his favorite recliner and the two of them snuggled in blankets on the sofa.

  He would have liked to ask Destry to switch places with him but he didn’t think either of them would appreciate the suggestion.

  The movie was a long one—and, once again, Sarah fell asleep during the last half.

  It was quite endearing to watch her try valiantly to stay awake, but finally her eyelids seemed to get heavier and heavier with each blink until she slumped to the side with her mouth open a little.

  Destry noticed the same thing after a few minutes and grinned at him. “I guess she has a hard time staying awake in movies,” she whispered.

  “Looks like,” he answered. Maybe she had also struggled to sleep after that stunning kiss they shared. It was probably small of him, but he hoped so.

  This time, she woke up just as the little bell on the Christmas tree rang, heralding the angel Clarence earning his wings.

  He was watching her more than the movie and enjoyed the sleepy way her eyes blinked open. “Oh,” she exclaimed on a yawn, her voice thready with sleep. “I love that part.”

  The credits started to roll, and she rubbed at her eyes. “I must have dozed off.”

  “You did!” Destry said. “You tried really hard not to, but I guess you were just too tired.”

  “How much did I miss?”

  “I don’t remember. Dad? When did she fall asleep?”

  He knew exactly when, right down to the moment in the scene. Would admitting that to her make her wonder just how closely he had been watching?

  “Right about the time George Bailey sees how the old crumbling house would have been falling apart without him.”

  “And finds his beloved wife a lonely spinster,” she murmured. As she said the words, color flared in her cheeks, and he wondered at it.

  “Yep,” Destry said. “That movie just makes me happy. Now I don’t know which one is my favorite Christmas movie, Elf or It’s a Wonderful Life. They’re both so good.”

  “No reason you have to decide tonight. In fact, we’re heading for eleven. You should probably go to bed. Remember, Santa Claus can’t come unless you’re asleep.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Dad. I’m eleven and a half, remember?”

  “So? You think he has different rules for smarty-pants girls who think they’re almost teenagers?”

  “You’re such a dork,” she said with a wry grin. Still, she hopped off the sofa. “But I am tired. I guess I should think about bed. Are we going to read the Christmas story first?”

  “Why don’t you get in your pajamas first, then we’ll read in the great room by the fireplace and the big Christmas tree.”

  “Deal.”

  She hurried from the room with the same energy she brought to everything.

  “We always read the story in Luke,” he explained to Sarah when the two of them were alone. “It was kind of a tradition with my parents. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  “You and Destry are trying to build your own traditions. I can go to bed if you would rather just read the story with your daughter.”

  “Not at all. You’re more than welcome. Come in, and you can help me add a couple more logs to the fire.”

  Though he knew touching her probably wasn’t a good idea, proper host etiquette and simple human courtesy demanded he reach out a hand to help her to her feet.

  When she rose, she was only a few inches from him. He could feel the air currents swirl around them with each inhale and exhale.

  She gazed up at him, and he thought he saw something there, something bright and tender.

  “Sarah—” he began, but whatever he meant to say next caught somewhere in his throat, all tangled up in his overwhelming desire to kiss her.

  She leaned toward him, her breasts brushing against his chest, lips slightly apart and the flutter of her heartbeat at the base of her neck.

  She wouldn’t push him away. Not this time.

  Call it male arrogance, call it instinct. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.

  He leaned down, just enough, but a half second before his mouth would have found hers, they heard footsteps hurrying down the hall.

  He eased back again just as Destry raced into the room at full speed.

  “All done,” she said proudly. “That was the fastest change on record, right?”

  “Painfully fast,” he muttered. “I didn’t even have time to build up the fire.”

  Sarah made a small sound in her throat that might have been amusement or dismay, he couldn’t tell.

  “I also need to grab my dad’s Bible out of the china cabinet in the dining room.”

  “I’ll find the Bible. I know where it is. I found it when I was helping Caidy look for a few things for the wedding. You two take care of the fire,” Destry ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As far as he was concerned, they had been doing just that, and he would have liked a chance to get back to it. This was obviously not the moment, with his daughter running around. After a pause, he headed into the great room, where tree lights already glowed, sending a kaleidoscope of color throughout the room. She followed, settling onto the sofa there while he added a few new logs to the fire he had started earlier in the evening.

  “Am I supposed to be helping with the fire, according to Destry’s script?” she asked.

  He laughed. “She tends to want things a certain way. I have no idea where she gets that.”

  “I can’t imagine,” she murmured.

  He again wanted to sink down beside her on the sofa and leave Destry to sit by herself on the other sofa but he decided that would be entirely too selfish of him.

  A moment later, his daughter walked in with her arms wrapped around the black leather Bible Ridge had watched his father read just about every morning of his life after chores.

  “Here you go, Dad.” She handed him the black King James Version that had Franklin Paul Bowman etched in gilt letters across the front.

  He gazed down at it as a hundred memories flooded back to him. Going to Sunday school when he was a kid, his thick wavy hair tamed with copious amounts of gel, pinching the twins to be quiet as they tried to wrestle on the pew. Listening to his father talk about his reverence for the land and his relationship with God while they were out on the tractor.

  At the forefront were those last bitter things he had hurled at his father just days before he died—that he was tired of Frank trying to run his life, damn sick and tired of being treated as if he didn’t have the brains or the balls to figure things out on his own, that he couldn’t respect a man who didn’t see his own son was a grown man trying to live his own life.

  He pushed that memory away, focusing instead on all those years of his childhood when his family would gather right here and read about babies and miracles and gifts from above.

  He opened to the well-worn page in Luke, carefully highlighted in red pencil by his father’s hand. He’d read from this Bible every Christmas since coming back to River Bow, but he’d never noticed the small note in the margin at one verse, in his father’s handwriting, underlined three times.

  “Fear not!” the note read. For some reason, the words seemed to jump off the page a
t him, as if his father were trying to tell him something.

  He gazed at it for a long time, until Destry finally spoke.

  “Dad? Aren’t you going to read?”

  “Um. Yeah. Sorry.” He cleared his throat and began reading. “‘And it came to pass...’”

  When he looked up after reading the last highlighted verse, Destry’s eyes were bright with happiness.

  “I never get tired of hearing that,” she declared.

  Sarah’s eyes were bright, too, but if he wasn’t mistaken, they were shiny with emotion.

  “That was lovely,” she said, her voice soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story read so beautifully.”

  That subtle connection seemed to shimmer around them like a shiny garland.

  “I had a good example. My dad read the story as if he had been one of those shepherds suddenly shaken out of their normal world by a host of angels.”

  She smiled, and he was suddenly deeply grateful for her. If she hadn’t been here, would he have found any sliver of Christmas spirit this year? Or would he have simply continued trudging through the motions to make sure his daughter enjoyed the holiday?

  Destry gave one of her ear-popping yawns, big enough to show off her back molars.

  “You need to be in bed, missy. And no sneaking down to see what Santa brought you before I have a chance to be there with you.”

  “I won’t,” she promised. She padded to him in her silly slippers and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy. Merry Christmas.”

  He hugged her, a ridiculous lump in his throat. “Love you right back, ladybug.”

  She made a face at the name he had called her since she was a toddler. To his surprise, she went to Sarah next.

  “Merry Christmas. I’m so glad you were here this year. You made everything more fun.”

  He saw Sarah’s eyes widen with astonishment when Destry threw her arms around her neck. After a shocked moment, she hugged her back.

  “I had a wonderful day,” she said. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning. Merry Christmas.”