The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1)

by Bacarr, Jina

  Kristen’s ears perked up. What was this? She’d heard rumblings about the Oakes sisters’ cash flow problems, but she’d dismissed it as gossip. Until now.

  “We need a Santa for the girls,” continued Miriam, grabbing her cell. “I’ll call Sheriff Hogan.”

  Betty Ann shook her head. “That won’t work, Miriam. His office said he’s investigating a robbery over at Carey Bank.”

  Rattled, Kristen knocked over a cupcake, squishing its snowy peak. A robbery? On Christmas Eve? Bad news for folks in this town. Phineas Carey owned nearly every mortgage in town, including hers. She’d never seen the man when he didn’t have a dour expression or a ready finger to point the blame on someone else for his money problems.

  If the sheriff didn’t recover the stolen funds, she feared the banker would come calling, wanting his mortgage money. She could expect no sympathy from him.

  She hated the queasy feeling hitting her, making her ask because she had to: “Did they get away with a lot of money?”

  Betty Ann clasped her hand to her ample bosom in a dramatic manner. “A whole month’s cash deposits, according to Mr. Carey.”

  “Just our luck,” said Miriam, wringing her hands. “Mr. Carey’s daughter is a student here. If the banker finds any reason to have another fit that could be our undoing if he doesn’t make a sizeable donation this year.” She turned to her sister. “How’s your ho ho ho, Betty Ann?” Her tone was curt, insistent.

  “That Santa suit makes me look fat,” whined her sister, refusing to be talked into what was for her an awkward situation. Kristen ached for her. Betty Ann referred to herself as a happy-sized woman, but that was only to disguise the hurt she suffered every time Miriam put her down because of her weight.

  Miriam narrowed her eyes. “If the shoe fits.”

  “How can you do this to your own sister?” Betty Ann said, miffed.

  “Do it, Betty Ann. Now.”

  “Please, Miriam. Everyone will laugh at me.”

  Kristen turned away, embarrassed to be listening to this, especially for Betty Ann’s sake. The woman had taken her under her wing, shown her kindness, and she loved her sugar cookies, the pure joy on her face making her smile when she bit into one. She had to do something to help her. Even as the two women argued back and forth, a crazy idea formed in her mind.

  The homeless vet.

  Santa.

  Why not?

  Kristen felt the heat rise in her cheeks and a fluttering in her belly thinking about her bold plan. Would it work? The soldier possessed a streak of arrogance she hadn’t seen in other homeless vets. The look he shot her was unnerving and intense, but lost somehow. How was she going to convince him to play Santa?

  Flirt with him.

  Her? She wasn’t accustomed to flirting with a man. Scott had been her first love, but drastic times called for drastic measures. They needed a Santa Claus and he was perfect.

  Kristen grabbed a cupcake and took off for the stable. If ever her baking skills were needed to get the mission done, it was now.

  * * * * *

  “Are you trying to bribe me to play Santa?” asked Jared, not believing the lady’s proposition. And it was a doozy. He’d trekked over a hundred miles to get here in the bitter cold, changed buses several times, lived on peanut butter sandwiches and coffee out of vending machines, and now this?

  A gorgeous woman was wiggling a yummy cupcake under his nose, trying to seduce him to play the jolly man himself.

  God, she was a picture. Tilting her head and looking up at him, swinging her long blond ponytail over her shoulder. A man would be insane to say no to her.

  Scott’s wife.

  Kristen.

  Pretty as a hot summer day in her blue-and-white checkered apron pulled tight around her waist. A fluffy ruffle added a feminine touch. Her jeans hugged her slim hips and the top button on her blouse had come undone, giving him a peek at her cleavage.

  That nearly had him hightailing it out of here, but Jared wasn’t just any homeless soldier looking for a hot meal. He was on a mission. Which meant that he keep the burning itch crawling up his spine at bay. No way was he going to let his mind go there. Danger lurked in those pale green eyes, the curve of her breast, the sway of her hips.

  No, sir. This was business. Important business for a buddy who couldn’t speak for himself.

  All morning, Jared had been hanging around the school, waiting for her to show up. Once he explained himself, he’d tell her what Scott had told him with his dying breath, and then take off. A simple plan. Should have been easy. It wasn’t. After their encounter earlier in the snow, he didn’t trust his emotions around her.

  First, she almost ran him over. Twice. Now this.

  A cupcake. Tempting as sin. Like her. Sweet and creamy. Melt in your mouth delicious. It was more than he could stand.

  “Yes, it’s a bribe,” Kristen said, looking him square in the eye. As if she knew he was suffering. Man, was he. “With real buttercream frosting.”

  “No.”

  He couldn’t say yes. That would take him off his game. A soldier didn’t question his orders. Get in, do the mission, and get out. That was what he was used to, what he knew. Not feeling what he was feeling now. Want, need, a strong desire to make things right for her. His gut told him it wouldn’t work. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

  She sighed deeply. “You’ll make the girls here at the school very happy if you put on that Santa suit.”

  “No.”

  Didn’t she ever give up?

  “Please,” Kristen begged. “My Rachel will be so disappointed if Santa doesn’t show up.” She said the words with so much emotion she made him feel guilty. Okay, he did feel guilty, but what could he do about it? He didn’t know the first thing about playing St. Nick.

  “I’d like to, ma’am, but I don’t have the right equipment,” he joked, pointing to his flat stomach. She wasn’t buying it. If anything, that made her more determined.

  “Rachel has had a hard time this year and needs cheering up. Please say you’ll do it.” She sounded tired, a deep loss darkening her eyes. That made him take a step back. The love she had for her child was electric, all-consuming.

  She lost her daddy, is that what you mean? Jared wanted to say, but didn’t.

  He had the feeling she’d risk anything for her little girl, even death. He said nothing, just stared at her, each thinking their own thoughts.

  He was hurting, too, but he couldn’t tell her that. He was here to make good on a promise. It was his duty to protect her, keep her safe. Her child, too. He’d promised Scott.

  “Listen, ma’am,” Jared said finally, trying to keep his voice casual. He had to come up with a story, something, anything until he figured out how to tell her why he was here. “I saw the front gate open and I figured I could get a hot cup of coffee. That’s it. I’m no Santa Claus.”

  “Where were you stationed, soldier?” she asked, changing her tactics.

  Clever, but not clever enough.

  “That’s sergeant, ma’am,” he said proudly. “Sgt. Jared Milano.”

  “Army, am I right, Sergeant?” She grinned, acknowledging his rank. “You have that look about you.”

  And you have the look of home and prayers and apple pie with ice cream.

  “My husband Scott was in the Army,” she continued, her voice choking up, though she struggled not to show it. She dug her hands deep into her apron pockets. “He was killed on patrol in Kandahar province.”

  I know. I was there that day. I held him in my arms when he took his last breath. He wanted me to tell you…

  Damn, he couldn’t remember. After all these months, his mind was still blank.

  “Sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he managed to say. “I’m sure he was a first class soldier.”

  “The best, Sergeant,” Kristen said with pride.

  “We lost a lot of good men like your husband over there…” Jared stopped. He couldn’t finish his sentence. Anothe
r damn headache gripped his head like a vice. He pushed his fingers into his forehead. Hell, he couldn’t put together anything that happened after the second IED went off. Like a million firecrackers. Exploding in his ears, blinding him. Then a deep silence. He’d stumbled, fallen, crashing into the hot sand, his arms and legs so heavy he couldn’t move. He’d looked up in time to see a large shadow approaching…sweeping over him…he heard voices…and then he passed out. He had no recollection after that until he woke up in the hospital.

  Then the headaches started.

  Painful, mind-numbing headaches.

  Day and night…for months…pushing out every thought that happened that day.

  All Jared could remember was that he’d made Scott a promise to be here for his buddy’s wife and child at Christmas so they wouldn’t be alone. Protect them, give them hope for the future. But there was something else, too.

  Something he couldn’t remember.

  “Are you okay, Sergeant?” Kristen asked, concerned. She leaned closer, raising her hand as if she wanted to soothe his brow, and then caught herself.

  “It’s nothing,” he insisted, attempting to smile.

  Her breath was sweet, her smile warm. It had been a long time since a woman affected him like that. Would it hurt him to stay a while?

  “I promise if you play Santa for us,” she tried to coax him. “I’ll fix you the best home-cooked Kentucky dinner you ever had.”

  A hot meal wasn’t half as tempting as her pretty mouth and full breasts. Too tempting. She looked so girl-back-home in her apron and ponytail. Jared always was partial to the country girl look. Fresh-faced, kind-hearted, but with a sex appeal that made him want to undo the ties on her checkered apron and crush her in his arms.

  He exhaled, slowed his breathing. Hold on, soldier, he chided himself. He was way off his game. Thinking such thoughts about her wasn’t part of the promise he’d made to his buddy.

  “I could use some fine home cooking,” Jared admitted, averting her gaze. God help him if she saw the desire in his eyes. She’d boot him out the back door faster than the Grinch on ice skates. “But like I told you, I don’t look like Santa Claus.”

  He grinned and pulled on his dark beard to gain her sympathy. Why was he making excuses? He wanted to tell her who he was, why he was here, but he couldn’t. Not until he remembered what Scott had told him. It was better that way.

  Kristen walked around him in a circle, getting a good look at him from every angle. Every angle. Her look was downright sexy.

  Jared flinched. The woman was determined to outmaneuver him. Man, she was something else.

  “Don’t worry, Sergeant,” she said with a smile. “I can fix that.”

  Chapter Three

  Silky white flour.

  Combed into his dark beard like fluffy snow.

  Kristen couldn’t help but notice that he was so handsome. Square jaw. Straight nose. Clear hazel green eyes that never left her. Watching her when she brushed flour into his beard, her fingers gliding over his cheeks, his neck.

  Whoever thought her Santa would be a homeless vet?

  She smiled, allowing herself to relax around him, liking him in spite of him being so obstinate. She caught herself, however, before she went into full flirt mode. A little charm was okay to get the job done. Anything else was off limits.

  Still, she couldn’t help but think, There’s something different about him than the others. She could feel it in her bones. A unique purpose in his coming here that she couldn’t put her finger on. She’d seen that right from the beginning when he insisted on asking her personal questions. He listened to her intently, interested in what she had to say. She’d addressed him by his rank since he was so insistent. These guys deserved the respect due them, even if they’d mustered out. Also, his beard was well-kept, not bushy like the other homeless vets who passed by this way. And he didn’t ask if she cooked anything besides meat stew, the usual fare at the homeless shelters.

  He must be fresh from the field, she decided. Still battle weary. Maybe that’s what attracted her to him. Made her think of Scott. He exuded strength and possessed a warrior’s instinct to observe and calculate his odds before making his move.

  Take the problem at hand. Zeke. What to do with a soused Santa? First, off came the red cap and jacket. Then she couldn’t take her eyes off the soldier as he hoisted Zeke’s prone body onto his shoulders and carried the tipsy handyman to his quarters to sleep off his eggnog and rum binge. Effortless. As if he were a rag doll.

  Next, she had to turn the soldier into Santa.

  She glanced at his wide chest when he took off his field jacket, his flannel shirt open, exposing his taut muscles pulling under his white T-shirt. His skin glowed bronze. Yep, she was right. He hadn’t been back long from overseas duty. She imagined him standing under the hot desert sun, shirtless, his silhouette looming against the red-infused sky, the mountains standing sentry behind him, their deep purple hue bathing him in shadows. The image was intoxicating, a romantic dream that captured her heart and made her tremble inside like a schoolgirl when she had no right to dream about anything, much less a handsome solider.

  My God, she was in way over her head. Whatever possessed her to have such sexy thoughts? Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. Avoiding the sergeant’s eyes, Kristen mumbled something about him leaving his pants on, then she set about turning the homeless vet into Kris Kringle.

  To her chagrin, she enjoyed every minute of it.

  His slow breathing. Hot breath on her face. A pleasant earthiness about him as if his very maleness enveloped her every time she touched him. She’d almost forgotten how a soldier smelled. When they’d sent Scott’s things back to her, an odor she recognized as sanitizing soap hit her nostrils when she opened the box. That had sent her reeling. She’d so looked forward to inhaling his essence, but everything was washed clean, leaving no scent for her cuddle up to, inhale, and remember.

  This soldier, on the other hand, was alive with all those memories she’d tried so hard to put back into that black box. A cold, dark place where light couldn’t get in. Where she kept her female needs and desires tied up in tight knots so they wouldn’t come undone. She could never allow that. Never.

  Kristen was so involved in her thoughts, she didn’t realize she’d pulled on his beard. Uh-oh. He groaned, jerking his leg. The sudden movement made him brush his thigh against hers. She stepped back, surprised. Her resolve failed her. Her pulse jumped. What was that sudden feeling in her chest? Her heart fluttering?

  He’d startled her, that was all. No doubt he wasn’t used to sitting still while a woman turned him into Santa Claus. Most likely the only time he was quiet was when he was cleaning his weapon. Or shining his boots. Just like Scott. He was always on the go, racing his car or getting his gear together. Everything from AA batteries to his poncho to lip balm. Ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice.

  A sudden urge to know the vet better made her look at him closer. What she saw sent a chill through her when his eyes turned a darker green even in the bright light overhead. Secrets lay there, she knew. Dark secrets, moody thoughts. As if he were hiding something.

  She kicked herself for not seeing it before. Scott looked like that when she asked him what it was like in country, as he called it. This man had that same look. An eerie sadness that penetrated her down to her bones, making her feel colder than if she were standing naked outside in the snow.

  She looked away, trying to dismiss what she saw. She couldn’t. What was his hold on her? Other soldiers had come through here. Why did she let this one get under her skin?

  Why? It bugged the heck out of her.

  Kristen shut the flour bin with a loud snap and wiped her hands clean. Rubbing them together so hard, her skin reddened. What was wrong with her? She had to get her soldier Santa over to the school and forget him. She didn’t have the time or the patience to play games. Then why was she stalling? Other vets flirted with her, but they didn’t try to pry open the lid she
kept shut on her emotions. They respected that.

  But this guy? No, he ripped it wide open with one slow move when his hard thigh brushed against hers. Burning her up with pleasant sensations she’d given up the thought of ever feeling again.

  Get over it. He reminds you of Scott. Nothing more.

  “Perfect,” she said, her voice quavering. She admired her Santa handiwork. In spite of her fiery emotions eating her up alive, the dusted white flour had turned his dark beard into snowy white. “Not even Mrs. Claus would know the difference.”

  “Shall we put it to the mistletoe test?” he said, grinning. He nodded toward the fresh sprig of holiday green ready to be hung from the rafters. Then he gave her a wink she couldn’t ignore.

  “You mean a kiss?” Kristen pretended to be shocked. What was she supposed to do? Close her eyes and pucker up? That scared the hell out of her. Then she saw the laughter in his eyes, daring her to take him up on his challenge.

  Flirting, is he? That’s a relief.

  She could deal with that, unlike his searing looks that grabbed her heart and wouldn’t let go.

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what I mean,” he said boldly. This time there was no mystery in his intention. His message came in loud and clear. “A kiss.”

  * * * * *

  Jared watched the reaction on her face. She looked flustered, jittery, and then put her hand to her forehead like she was dizzy. Why did he do that? Playing games with her like she was a quick roll in the hay.

  God damn it, she was Scott’s wife.

  Widow, he reminded himself, but that didn’t change anything. Kissing her was not part of the mission. He noticed she still wore her wedding ring, making him feel even more guilty. Okay, so he was a number one jerk for trying to get close to her, but he’d come here to tell her what Scott said.

  If he could just remember what that was.

  He didn’t give her a chance to give him an answer, jumping up while she was still searching for something to say. There was nothing else to say without putting his boot into his mouth again.