His Christmas Sweetheart

by Cathy McDavid

  Will finished brushing the horses and put them up for the night, making sure they were well fed. Fetching Cruze from the barn, he walked the corrals and the livestock pens, as was his routine before going home.

  Miranda had helped him. He’d resisted, and she’d persisted. This panic attack had been less intense than his previous ones.

  If he didn’t see her again, if he’d scared her off as he had suspected, he’d always be grateful for that.

  * * *

  “HONEST TO GOODNESS,” Cissy gushed, “when have you ever seen so many good-looking men gathered in one place?”

  They were at the Paydirt, in the middle of their shifts.

  “Not for a while,” Miranda had to admit. “Once at the hospital, a bus carrying a minor league baseball team was in an accident. A couple of the players were hurt. Not seriously. The whole team showed up in the waiting room.”

  “Lucky you.” Cissy loaded her tray with mugs of beer and tumblers of whiskey as fast as the bartender could pour them.

  “There were some cuties.”

  In Miranda’s opinion, none of them had been better looking than the group assembled. Cliff Dempsey and Sam Wyler were heading the first official meeting of the newly recruited Sweetheart Volunteer Fire Department. Will was in attendance, along with four other young to middle-aged men. The mayor and two representatives of the town council had joined them. The council secretary sat at a neighboring table, taking notes on a laptop.

  “Your fellow over there’s watching you.” Cissy sauntered off with the tray.

  “He’s not my fellow,” Miranda called after her, then promptly shut her mouth. Had anyone besides Cissy heard her?

  She glanced in Will’s direction. He was watching her. Although it was hard to read his expression at this distance, she was pretty sure he wasn’t pining after her.

  To Miranda’s dismay, news of her and Will’s kiss outside the Paydirt a few weeks ago had spread. Someone had seen them and had blabbed on their next visit to the saloon. That was all it took. Cissy wasn’t the only one giving Miranda a hard time.

  Thank goodness no one had seen them kissing a second time at the Windfall Claim site.

  Miranda didn’t care. Will, however, did. He tried not to let the ribbing he’d been receiving from the other patrons bother him. Anyone who knew him at all could see that it did. And then she’d gone and made things worse by pressuring him to open up. Not to mention throwing herself at him on top of that. No wonder the poor guy had suffered a panic attack.

  She’d yet to decide how she felt about their awkward parting and future relationship—not that there was much potential for one. Dwelling on it for three days hadn’t given her an answer. It was a classic battle between head and heart.

  Her head said it was a lost cause. She should do as he wanted and forget about them.

  Her heart said she shouldn’t give up. Their chemistry was off the charts and worth fighting for.

  The volunteer firefighters’ meeting got underway, with the mayor and sheriff taking turns leading the discussion. It was a slow afternoon at the Paydirt, too late for the lunch crowd and too early for the after-work crowd.

  Miranda had been assigned the job of decorating the Christmas tree. Truth be told, she’d offered to do it. The tree was tucked in an area next to the stage and to the right of the restrooms. Personally, she considered the location a disaster waiting to happen, but the mayor had insisted. Someone, probably several someones, was going to knock over the tree in their haste to reach the lavatory.

  Location aside, Miranda took pleasure in the task. She’d decorated Harmony House inside and out, top to bottom. Lights, wreaths, garland, lawn ornaments. It had given her an outlet on which to expend the nervous energy building up from thinking too much about Will.

  He’d visited once in the past three days to see Mrs. Litey. Miranda had been at the Paydirt, something she suspected was planned on his part. It was easy enough to find out her schedule.

  “Don’t forget the mistletoe,” the bartender reminded her when she made yet another trip to the storeroom. “The mayor wants it hung from the chandelier.”

  “Right.”

  The chandelier, crafted from an antique wagon wheel, was suspended from the rafter just inside the front entrance. Miranda carted the stepladder with her from the storeroom, snatching the sprig of green and red mistletoe off the corner of the bar as she passed.

  Of course, it reminded her of kissing Will and how wrong that had gone. Both times.

  Argh! She had to stop thinking of him or she was going to wear out her brain.

  Whatever had given her the notion to practice armchair psychology without understanding the full extent of his condition first? And she called herself a nurse.

  Even with the stepladder, she had to stretch her arms to their longest length to reach the chandelier. Her fingers fumbled, and she dropped the mistletoe.

  “Need a hand?”

  She started at the deep masculine voice and steadied herself before looking down.

  Sam grinned up at her, the sprig in his hand.

  Not Will. What a relief. Not that she’d expected him to come over. “What about the meeting?”

  “We’re taking a break for a few minutes while the secretary researches some equipment prices online.”

  Miranda sneaked a peak at Will. He sat at the table, staring into his beer. No longer at her. That was good, right? “Sure. Thanks. I’m either too short or the chandelier’s too high.”

  Sam took her place on the stepladder and easily attached the mistletoe. “How’s this?”

  “Great. Appreciate the assistance.”

  Sam climbed down the ladder and, with no warning whatsoever, kissed her soundly on the cheek.

  Her fingers automatically flew to the spot as a small gasp escaped. “What was that for?”

  “We are standing under mistletoe.”

  “Seriously, Sam.” She didn’t believe him for one second.

  His answer was to incline his head at the table where the meeting was taking place.

  She spun. Will was staring at them. She felt the intensity of his gaze despite the distance separating them.

  “I still don’t understand,” she stammered.

  “I’m proving a point.” Sam winked at her. “He cares about you.”

  “He may.”

  “He does.”

  “Regardless, he and I—”

  “Miranda, you’re good for him.”

  She shook her head, recalling the night on the mountain. “You don’t know how wrong you are.”

  “I’m willing to bet differently.” He left her then, his long strides taking him across the room to rejoin the meeting.

  Miranda didn’t move. She was too stunned to do anything else. The sound of her cell phone ringing roused her from her stupor. Removing it from her pocket, she checked the number and bit her lip. Mr. Lexington’s son. Normally she didn’t take calls while on duty at the Paydirt, except for emergencies. This could be one.

  “Hello, Gary.”

  “Miranda, how are you?”

  At his tone, her stomach plummeted. She walked to the corner, seeking privacy. “You tell me. Have you and your brothers made a decision?”

  “We did.”

  She could hear the answer in his voice, and all hope evaporated.

  “I’m sorry. We have to do what’s best for Dad.”

  A second’s worth of preparation didn’t make a difference. She took the news badly.

  “I understand.” But she didn’t. Not at all. Mr. Lexington wouldn’t be happy living away from Sweetheart. Gary was doing what was best for him. “Have you told him?”

  “Not yet. We’re thinking of coming up this weekend unannounced and moving him. That way he’ll have less time
to fret and become anxious.”

  “Gary.” Miranda was aghast. “I can’t tell you what a mistake I think that is. He needs to be told. Have the chance to say his goodbyes and finalize any business.”

  “This coming weekend is the only one I have free for the next two months.” He sounded a bit put off.

  She tried a different approach. “In my experience with elderly residents, they don’t always adjust well to change. Abrupt change is even harder.”

  “My point exactly. You know how he is. He’ll procrastinate. Come up with every excuse in the book as to why we shouldn’t move him. Dig in his heels.”

  “He’ll do that anyway. This is his home.”

  “Dad loves visiting us. He’ll make the transition.”

  He’d do better with advance notice. “I’m asking you to reconsider.” Miranda pressed her free hand to her forehead. “At least wait till after the holidays.” She could figure out something by then. Hopefully have refinanced her mortgage.

  “I’m sorry,” Gary repeated, without a trace of sympathy.

  “So am I.”

  “Don’t say a word to Dad. Promise me.”

  “I wouldn’t go behind your back.” She may completely disagree with him, but she would abide by his wishes.

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything. You’ve been good to Dad. This is hard on all of us.”

  She chided herself for being selfish. Caring for an elderly parent wasn’t easy, and there were often difficult decisions that had to be made. Unfortunately, she would bear the brunt of this particular decision.

  “What time will you be arriving on Saturday?” she asked.

  Trying not to let her dismal financial situation color the rest of her conversation with Gary, they finalized the arrangements. Miranda hung up, thinking she would have to give Nell notice. With only three residents, she was either going to have to put in more hours at the Paydirt or cut back on Nell’s hours.

  Neither choice was desirable, but reducing Nell’s hours made the most sense. It was silly for Miranda to work an outside job just to pay Nell’s wages.

  Brushing at her damp cheeks—when had she started to cry?—she pocketed her phone and returned to the Christmas tree. The twinkling lights did nothing to lift her spirits this time.

  “Hey.”

  Another masculine voice sounded from behind her, this one also giving her a start. Not now, please, she thought.

  “Hi, Will.” She fiddled with a candy-cane ornament that was drooping to one side. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the meeting?”

  “We’re on break.”

  “Didn’t you just have one?” How did they get any work done?

  “Actually, I ditched the meeting.” His expression wasn’t the least bit contrite.

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “I don’t care.” He shifted, which somehow brought him closer to her. “Did your phone call not go well?”

  She should be flattered that he was paying so much attention to her. Fifteen minutes ago she would have been. But then Gary had called and she’d gone from barely making ends meet to the very real possibility of losing her home.

  The savings and loan simply had to approve her refinancing. When Miranda turned in the paperwork on Tuesday, Mr. Carter had told her the process would take a few days.

  “Mr. Lexington’s son called,” she told Will. “He’s moving his dad in with him.”

  “When?”

  “This weekend.”

  “Wow.” Will pushed his hat back on his head. “That’s not much notice.”

  “Yeah.” Tears returned to her eyes. She blinked them away.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure.” Miranda fiddled with the candy-cane ornament. Now instead of drooping to the left, it drooped to the right. She sighed. Would nothing go right? “I was hoping Arthur’s family would agree to an adult day-care arrangement. One that involved compensating me.”

  “They should. He’s there a lot.”

  “I doubt they will.” Miranda made a face. “I kind of ticked them off the other day.”

  Will placed a hand on her shoulder, the gesture comforting. Friend to friend.

  Who needed words? He did just fine without them. Miranda leaned toward him.

  “I... We...”

  “No kiss. Just a hug. Okay? I can’t take anything else.”

  He folded her in his embrace.

  She rested her face on his chest. The moment didn’t last. Her cell phone rang again. She would have let the call go to voice mail, but Will gently eased her away from him.

  “Better get that,” he said.

  She checked the display and her disinterest changed to excitement, then trepidation. “It’s the savings and loan.”

  “Answer it.” He left her to take the call in private.

  She pressed the phone to her ear and retreated to the same corner as earlier. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Staley? This is Ruth from Northern Nevada Savings and Loan. Mr. Carter asked me to call you.”

  “Yes?” Miranda swallowed, dismayed at how high and thin her voice sounded. “Has my refinancing been approved?”

  “Mr. Carter wants to meet with you, if you’re available.”

  “When?”

  “He has an opening tomorrow morning at eleven-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.” She was scheduled to work the afternoon shift at the Paydirt. Nell was arriving at noon. Miranda would have to coerce her into coming early.

  “Very good. I’ll let Mr. Carter know.”

  Miranda swore there was a smile in the woman’s voice. Her refinance request must have been approved. Mr. Carter wouldn’t want to see her just to tell her no. He’d send a letter.

  She returned to decorating the tree, feeling a hundred pounds lighter. When Will looked at her from the table where he sat, she smiled, telegraphing her hope. He answered with a thumbs-up.

  She’d still need to find a new resident to replace Mr. Lexington. Two would be better. But with a lower mortgage payment, she had a little more time.

  As if giving her a sign, the candy-cane ornament hung perfectly straight.

  Chapter Ten

  “What do you think? Isn’t she a beauty?” Sam passed his smartphone across the desk to the mayor for her inspection. “The Bishop County Fire Department emailed this photo to me yesterday.”

  The mayor took the phone and studied the picture of the fire engine, her face reflecting her delight. “Very nice.”

  Will had seen the photo already. His reaction was slightly less enthralled. All right, considerably less. He understood Sam and the mayor’s excitement. An improved volunteer fire department would provide a real boon to the town.

  If only he felt more confident about being an asset to the department and not a detriment.

  He and Sam had come to town in order to pick up a pallet of grain at the feed store. Once that task had been accomplished, Sam had dropped by the mayor’s office, revealing the real reason for their spontaneous errand run.

  “Is it for sale?” the mayor asked hopefully.

  “Not any longer. They found a buyer.” Sam looked ready to burst. “Me.”

  “Hot dog!” The mayor threw her arms up in the air. “Tell me everything. All the details.”

  “It’s a pumper-tanker engine. Only six years old.” Sam spoke with the kind of reverence one might use when describing a rare work of art. “It has an impeller water-pump system and a built-in thousand-gallon tank.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  Sam explained his efforts over the past few days to the mayor. The results had been a fire engine that was within the town’s budget. That the BCFD was willing to take payments made it an even better bargain.
/>   “Ooh. We should call Cliff.” She reached for the phone.

  Will propped his elbow on the visitor chair armrest. This was apparently going to take a while.

  While the mayor was preoccupied, Will said to Sam, “I’m going to the Paydirt. See if I can’t hitch a ride with someone back to the ranch.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “I’ve got to finish work on the sleigh.”

  Another of his boss’s acquisitions. Sam had intended to decorate it with lights and display it at the entrance to the Gold Nugget. Will had instead suggested they give rides to the guests. Where that idea came from, he wasn’t sure, but now he was stuck with it. The sleigh was in reasonably good condition but needed a few repairs before being able to carry passengers.

  “Luiz can help you when we get back,” Sam said.

  Will didn’t just sit around doing nothing when he could be doing something.

  He glanced out the mayor’s office window. They’d woken up that morning to three inches of freshly fallen snow. Not enough for cross-country skiing—that required another foot at least. But more than enough of the white stuff to turn the town and the Gold Nugget into a winter wonderland.

  The contest winners and their families had left the previous day, raving about what a fantastic time they’d had. The publicity hadn’t exactly worked miracles, from what Will had heard. Still, the ranch had gotten a few new reservations, some of those for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Most for the coming spring.

  Sam and the mayor were devising a new promotion, bigger and grander and, in their opinion, guaranteed to revitalize the town’s still-flagging economy. The mayor had dubbed the event the Mega Weekend of Weddings.

  The idea was to perform a hundred wedding ceremonies back to back over a single weekend, setting a town record. Valentine’s Day was too soon to pull it off. They’d agreed on June 3, the town’s anniversary and the start of the summer season. Plus, as the mayor was quick to point out, who didn’t want a June wedding?

  “Cliff can swing by in about fifteen minutes,” she said, disconnecting from her call. “He’s on rounds.”

  “How ’bout I take the pickup to the ranch, unload the grain and come back for you?” Will thought the suggestion made sense. And it would get him out of this meeting.