Merry Christmas, Baby Maverick!

by Brenda Harlen

  “Sounds like Rosey,” Trey agreed.

  The bartender delivered their drinks and they settled back, falling into familiar conversation about ranching and horses and life in Rust Creek Falls. They were on their second round of drinks when two girls in tight jeans and low-cut shirts squeezed up to the bar beside them on the pretext of wanting to order, but the flirtatious glances they sent toward Trey and Derek suggested they were looking for more than drinks.

  The girls accepted their beverages from the bartender then headed toward an empty table, inviting Trey and Derek to join them.

  “What do you say?” Derek asked, his gaze riveted on their swaying hips as the girls walked away.

  Trey shook his head, not the least bit tempted.

  “C’mon, buddy. You’re supposed to be my wing man.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of women throwing themselves at you?”

  Derek laughed. “That’s funny.”

  Trey frowned.

  “You weren’t joking?”

  “No,” he said.

  “You meet someone?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  Derek obviously hadn’t expected an affirmative response, but he shrugged it off, anyway. “So even if you’ve got a girl in Thunder Canyon, she wouldn’t ever know about a meaningless hookup here.”

  He didn’t correct his friend’s assumption that he was seeing someone in Thunder Canyon. If he admitted that he was interested in a local girl, Derek would be full of questions—questions that Trey wasn’t prepared to answer. So all he said was, “I’d know.”

  Derek shook his head. “She’s really got her hooks into you, doesn’t she?”

  Trey frowned at the phrasing, but he’d recently started to admit—at least to himself—that it was probably true. “Your turn will come someday,” he warned his friend.

  “Maybe,” Derek allowed, setting his empty bottle on the bar. “But that day is not today.”

  “Where are you going?” he demanded when Kayla’s brother slid off his stool.

  “When a girl gives me a ‘come hither’ glance, I come hither.”

  Trey just shook his head as he watched him walk away to join the two girls at the table they now occupied.

  Even if Kayla did have her hooks in him, so to speak, he knew there were still obstacles to a relationship between them, and the geographical distance between Thunder Canyon and Rust Creek Falls was one of the biggest.

  But that distance wasn’t an issue right now, and he really wanted to see her. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked for messages. There were none.

  He scrolled through his list of contacts, clicked on her name then the message icon. The blank white screen seemed blindingly bright in the dimly lit bar.

  Just thinking abt u, wondering what u r doing...

  There was no immediate reply. Of course not—whatever she was doing, she obviously wasn’t sitting around waiting to hear from him.

  He glanced over at the girls’ table, where his friend was holding another bottle of beer. Derek caught his eye and waved him over, but Trey shook his head again. Then he tossed some money on the bar to pay for his drink and walked back to the boarding house.

  * * *

  Kayla didn’t get Trey’s message until the morning, and her heart fluttered inside her chest when she picked up her phone and saw his name on the screen. She clicked on the message icon.

  Just thinking abt u, wondering what u r doing...

  The time stamp indicated that he’d reached out to her at 10:28 pm.

  Sorry—I was in the barn all night watching over a new litter of kittens.

  He replied immediately.

  Everything okay?

  8 kittens, only 5 survived.

  Tough night for you.

  She hadn’t expected his immediate and unquestioning understanding. It had been a tough night. Yeah, she’d grown up on a ranch and seen a lot of births and deaths, but it still hurt to lose an animal. She’d tried to keep the kittens warm with blankets and hot water bottles and her own body heat, but the three she’d lost had just been too small.

  I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to call.

  Me 2. I ended up @ the Ace with Derek.

  She had enough secrets in her life, but she wasn’t ready for the third degree from her family when they learned that she’d been hanging out with Trey Strickland, because they all knew that she’d had a huge crush on her brother’s best friend in high school. And though she wasn’t proud of her instinctive cringe, she had to ask.

  You didn’t say anything about us?

  There r enough brawls there without giving your brother an excuse to hit me.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Good. I like your nose where it is.

  Me 2. But now I’m wondering...r u ashamed of our relationship?

  I’m just not sure what our relationship is.

  Maybe we can work on figuring it out today.

  Which was an undeniably tempting offer. She missed him more than she wanted to admit, conscious with each day that passed that he wasn’t going to be in Rust Creek Falls for very long, and the time was quickly slipping away. Unfortunately, she knew that they wouldn’t be able to figure out anything that day.

  I’m on maid of honor duty today—looking for Kristen’s wedding dress.

  All day?

  Knowing my sister, probably.

  OK. I’ll touch base with u 2morrow.

  I’m at the theater 2morrow. But I’m free Tuesday.

  Tuesday is too far away.

  It was far away, and the fact that he thought so, too, put a smile on her face as she got ready to go shopping with the bride-to-be.

  RUST CREEK RAMBLINGS: DECK THE COWBOY

  Local cowboys have been showing their holiday spirit...or maybe it would be more accurate to say that Tommy Wheeler and Jared Winfree demonstrated the effect of imbibing too many holiday spirits after the men went a couple of rounds at the Ace in the Hole this past Friday night! Both were declared winners in the brawl and awarded a free night’s accommodation in the sheriff’s lockup as well as receiving a detailed bill for damages from everyone’s favorite bar owner, Rosey Travern.

  Chapter Eight

  Kristen tried on at least a dozen different styles of wedding dresses—from long sleeves to strapless, slim-fitting to hoop skirts, simple taffeta to all-over lace decorated with tiny beads and crystals. And she looked stunning in each and every one. Even the layers and layers of ruffled organza that would have looked like an explosion of cotton candy on anyone else looked wonderful on Kristen.

  “You must at least have a particular style in mind,” Rita Dalton chided, when Kristen went back to the sample rack and selected four more completely different dresses again.

  “I don’t,” the bride-to-be insisted. “But I think I’ll know it when I see it.”

  But none of those four dresses seemed to be the right one, either. Rita moved away from the bridal gowns to peruse a more colorful rack of dresses.

  “What do you think of this for your maid of honor?” she asked, lifting a hanger from the bar.

  “Oh, I love the color,” Kristen agreed, touching a hand to the cornflower taffeta. “The blue is almost a perfect match to Kayla’s eyes.”

  Kayla glanced at the dress. “It is pretty.”

  “You should try it on,” Rita urged.

  Her panicked gaze flew to her sister. Though Kristen understood the cause of her panic, she was at a loss to help her out of the sticky situation.

  Rita looked at the tag. “This is a size six—perfect.”

  The dress wasn’t only a size six, it was also very fitted, and there was no way Kayla could squeeze into the sample without revealing her baby bump.<
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  “Today is about finding Kristen a dress,” she reminded their mother.

  “But if Kristen likes it and you like it, why can’t we pick out your dress, too?”

  “Because the bridesmaids’ dresses should complement the bride’s style—which means that there’s no point in considering any options until she’s chosen her dress.”

  “But look at this,” Kristen said, coming to her rescue by holding up another outfit. “Doesn’t it just scream ‘mother-of-the-bride’?”

  Rita glanced over, the irritated frown on her brow smoothing out when she saw the elegant sheath-style dress with bolero jacket that Kristen was holding.

  Thank you, Kayla mouthed to her sister behind their mother’s back.

  “I’m not sure I want a dress that screams anything,” Rita said. “But that is lovely.”

  Kristen shoved the dress into their mother’s hands and steered her into the fitting room she’d recently vacated. They left the store thirty minutes later with a dress for the mother-of-the-bride but nothing for the bride herself.

  “There’s another bridal shop just down the street,” Rita said.

  “Can we go for lunch first?” Kristen asked. “I’m starving.”

  “Priorities,” their mother chided. “June is only six months away, and you need a gown.”

  “I need to eat or I’m going to pass out in a puddle of taffeta.”

  Rita glanced at her watch. “All right—we’ll go for a quick bite.”

  They found a familiar chain restaurant not too far away. Even before she looked at the menu, Kayla’s mouth was watering for French fries and gravy, a lunchtime staple from high school that she hadn’t craved in recent years—until she got pregnant. After a brief perusal of the menu, she set it aside.

  “What are you having?” Kristen asked.

  “The chicken club wrap and fries.”

  Her mother frowned. “French fries, Kayla?”

  “What’s wrong with French fries?” she asked, aware that she sounded more than a little defensive.

  “Do you think I don’t know the real reason you didn’t want to try on that dress is that you’re afraid you won’t fit into a size six right now?”

  “I’ve put on a few pounds,” she admitted. “Not twenty.” At least, not yet.

  “It always starts with a few,” her mother said, not unsympathetically.

  “What starts with a few?”

  “Emotional eating.”

  Kayla looked at Kristen, to see if her sister was having better luck following their mother’s logic, but Kristen just shrugged.

  “I understand that it’s hard,” Rita continued.

  “What’s hard?”

  She glanced across the table at her other daughter. “You and Kristen have always been close. You’ve always done so many things together. Now your sister is getting married, and you’re afraid that you’re going to be alone.”

  She opened her mouth to protest then decided that if that was the excuse her mother was willing to believe, why would she dissuade her?

  “I’m going to wash up,” Rita said. “If the server comes before I’m back, you can order the chicken Caesar for me.”

  “And people think I’m the only actress in the family,” Kristen commented when their mother had gone.

  “Am I really that pathetic?” Kayla wanted to know. “Do you think I’d ever be so devastated over the lack of a man in my life that I’d eat myself into a bigger dress size?”

  “You’re not pathetic at all,” her sister said loyally. “And if Mom had seen you and Trey dancing at the wedding, she’d realize how far off base she is. Then again, if she’d seen you two dancing at the wedding, she might suspect the real reason you’re craving French fries.”

  “She’s right about the weight gain, though,” Kayla admitted. “I’m up nine pounds already.”

  “And still wearing your skinny jeans.” She lifted the hem of her sweater to show that the button was unfastened and the zipper half-undone.

  “Wow—we’re going to have to paint ‘Goodyear’ on you and float you up in the sky pretty soon.”

  “Sure, you’re making jokes,” Kayla said. “But at dinner Sunday night, when I said that yes, I would like some dessert, Mom cut me a sliver of lemon meringue pie that was so narrow, I could see through the filling.”

  “So tell her that you’re pregnant,” her sister advised. “I bet she’d let you have seconds of dessert if she knew you were eating for two.”

  “If she didn’t drown the pie with her tears of disappointment and shame first. And then, of course, she’d demand to know who the father is—”

  “And daddy would get out his shotgun,” Kristen interjected.

  She shook her head. “Definitely not a good scene.”

  “But probably inevitable,” her sister said. “Which is why you have to tell Trey.”

  Kayla sighed. “I know.”

  The server came and they ordered their lunches—Kayla opting for a side salad rather than fries to appease her mother. Kristen chose the same sandwich as her sister but with the fries and gravy that Kayla wanted.

  “When are you seeing Trey again?” Kristen asked when the waiter left them alone again.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You need to make a plan to see him,” her sister insisted. “And you need to tell him.”

  “Tell who what?” Rita asked, returning to her seat at the table.

  “I need to, uh, tell Derek that Midnight Shadow was favoring her right foreleg when I moved her out of her stall this morning.”

  “He won’t be happy about that,” their mother noted.

  “Hopefully it isn’t anything serious,” Kristen said.

  When their meals were delivered, talk shifted back to the wedding. Kayla ate her salad, silently promising the baby that she’d have something fatty and salty later, when she’d escaped from the eagle eye of her mother.

  “What did you think of the dresses I tried on?” Kristen asked her sister, as she dragged a thick fry through the puddle of gravy on her plate. “And I want your honest opinion.”

  Kayla focused on her own plate and stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork. “I think they were all beautiful dresses and you looked stunning in each one.”

  “That’s not very helpful,” Kristen chided.

  “Well, it’s true. It’s also true that I don’t think any of them was the right dress for you.”

  “Why not?”

  She chewed the tomato. “Because they were all too...designer.”

  Kristen wrinkled her nose. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means that you’re trying too hard to look like a Hollywood bride.”

  “Ryan lived and worked in Hollywood for a lot of years, surrounded by some of the world’s most beautiful women,” her sister pointed out. “I don’t want to disappoint him on our wedding day.”

  “Think about what you just said,” Kayla told her. “Yes, your fiancé was surrounded by beautiful women in Hollywood—but he didn’t fall in love until he came to Montana and met you. So why would you want to be anything different than the woman he fell in love with?”

  “I don’t,” Kristen said.

  “Remember the first dress you looked at—the one you instinctively gravitated toward and then put back on the rack without trying it on because it was too simple?”

  “The one with the little cap sleeves and the open back?”

  Kayla nodded. “You need to go back and try it on.”

  “I will,” Kristen decided, popping another French fry into her mouth. “Right after we finish lunch.”

  * * *

  “How was shopping with your sister and your mother?” Trey asked Kayla, when he called the next morning.

 
She let out a deep sigh. “It was...an experience.”

  “Did Kristen find a dress?”

  “I think it was about the thirty-fifth one she tried on, but yes, she finally found it.”

  “Does that mean you’re free today?”

  “It means I don’t have to go shopping,” she told him. “But I do have to bake Christmas cookies.”

  “Okay, what are you doing after that?”

  “I’m probably going to be tied up in the kitchen most of the day,” she told him.

  He paused. “I was really hoping we could spend some time together.”

  She was hoping for the same thing, especially since she knew that Trey’s time in Rust Creek Falls was limited. “Do you want to come over and help me make cookies?”

  “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” he noted. “But yes, if that’s the only way I can be with you, I do.”

  “You know where to find me.”

  “Will I find coffee there, too?”

  “There will definitely be coffee,” she assured him.

  It wasn’t until he pulled into the long drive of the Circle D Ranch that he considered the possible awkwardness of the situation if Derek was at the main house. Not that his friend’s potential disapproval would have affected his decision to come, but he should have factored him into the equation and he hadn’t. He hadn’t thought about anything but how much he wanted to see Kayla.

  When he got to the house, there was no sign of Derek—or anyone else other than Kayla. “Where is everyone?”

  “My parents went to an equipment auction in Missoula, and my brothers are out doing whatever they do around the ranch.”

  “So no one will interrupt if I kiss you?”

  “No one will interrupt,” she promised.

  He dipped his head toward her. “Mmm...you smell really good.”

  She laughed softly. “I think it’s the cookies.”

  He nuzzled her throat, making her blood heat and her knees quiver. “No, it’s definitely you.”

  “You smell good, too.” She kissed him lightly. “And taste even better.”

  He drew her closer, kissed her longer and deeper—until the oven timer began to buzz.

  Saved by the bell, Kayla thought, embarrassed to realize that she’d momentarily forgotten they were standing in the middle of her mother’s kitchen, making out like teenagers.