Texas Christmas Bride: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Book 6

by Jean Brashear

  She did know. Ian was the original knight in shining armor, the one who battled everyone else’s dragons. She knew—knew—how hard he’d been biting his tongue as day after day she battled morning sickness and fatigue, struggling to find some balance between all her commitments and the part of her that wanted to simply curl up in his arms and never leave. To focus on growing the baby she so deeply cherished.

  But she’d promised Nana…and Nana needed her.

  Then Brenda, little quiet as a mouse Brenda, of all people, spoke up. “Maybe the cafe could close at night. If breakfast and lunch were served here and dinner over there, we could all work both places instead of being split up.”

  Scarlett had had the same thought. “But everyone in town counts on the cafe to be open for supper. Ruby’s Dream is going to be too high-end for their budgets.”

  “Does it have to be?” Brenda asked.

  Scarlett stared at the meek girl whose past was such a mystery.

  She frowned. “We need people coming from Austin and San Antonio to make it work. To provide the market for the ranchers’ beef and the farmers’ organic produce.”

  “But isn’t—” Brenda seemed to be summoning every last ounce of courage to argue. “Isn’t there a compromise? Can’t you let it grow from something small to something bigger and fancier later, if that’s what you want?”

  “And who says Ruby’s Dream has to be open right away, anyhow?” Jeanette demanded. Her eyes narrowed. “You know who’s all bent out of shape over that. It’s not Ruby.”

  “But—” She’d been so focused. She’d wanted it open in October. “I promised Jackson it would be here when he started bringing in employees, so they could see this wasn’t a cultural and gastronomic wasteland. Plus I told him I’d cater his company Christmas party.”

  “Jackson can deal,” Ian said impatiently. “Hell, he’s got the money to fly in food, for that matter.”

  “But that’s not the point—”

  “What is the point?” he demanded. “How much farther do you have to push yourself to prove whatever the hell it is you’re trying to prove?”

  “Ian, you don’t understand—”

  “I understand plenty, first of which is I’m taking you home. Right this minute.” Without waiting for her to respond, he scooped her up and stalked out the door.

  She sat across the truck from him, a study in stiff, silent misery. Those delicate shoulders that tried to hold up the world were hunched as if to protect herself from a blow. One pale, slim hand curved over the small bump that was their baby’s living cradle, and Ian couldn’t stand how much she was hurting.

  Or the fact that he was the cause of much of it.

  Time after time, words rushed to the tip of his tongue. I’m not the enemy. You have to take better care of yourself. They don’t deserve you.

  Hell, he didn’t deserve her. But he had her, and he wasn’t letting go, by God.

  At last he pulled up to the ranch house and parked. She remained staring ahead, no telling what was charging through that busy brain of hers. The woman barely slept, as it was. He couldn’t be robbing her of more rest by making her upset. But—

  “Damn it—” He slammed a fist on the wheel. “This has to end.”

  And immediately felt like crap as she lifted that small, courageous chin in defiance.

  Protecting herself. Distancing herself.

  From him.

  “I’m sorry.” With a gust of resignation, he got out and walked around before she could step down. When he reached for her, she stiffened, and something inside him died. “I’m not the enemy, sweetheart,” he said gruffly as his voice tightened against the misery. “Please. Let me take you inside.” He waited, clearly ready to scoop her up but trying like hell to restrain himself, to let her choose, though everything inside him ached and growled and readied itself to battle all comers for her.

  I don’t need a white knight, Ian. How many times had she said that to him?

  But you do, my love. Because you won’t protect yourself. You lay yourself on the line every damn day…

  He lost his patience and swept her up in his arms. Carried her inside and up the stairs with only a nod at his dad, who sat in the living room, reading.

  Gordon’s brows lifted, concern on his features. As if asking if she was hurt.

  With a quick shake of his head, determined not to stop their progress, Ian kept going. He would explain later. Right now, Scarlett was all he could see. All he could feel.

  She perched in his arms, still stiff with resentment. He knew their battle wasn’t over—and damned himself for adding to her misery when all he wanted to do was help.

  Inside their room, door pushed shut with one boot, Scarlett squirmed to get down, and he almost let her.

  But distance was not what they needed. No walls thrown up to barricade them from the essential truth.

  They loved each other.

  But she was killing herself trying to prove her love to everyone. All the time.

  So Ian kept a tight grip on her. “Hush now,” he said in the most soothing voice he could muster. He had to focus on being calm himself if he hoped to ever get her to settle down. She was stubborn as ten mules, and most times, that determination served her well. Made her capable of accomplishing more than whole groups of people combined.

  But right now, she needed to listen—to herself. To her body.

  And, please God, to him. Because he couldn’t take watching her do this to herself anymore.

  He sat down in the big rocker they’d moved into the room, anticipating their baby’s arrival. It was big and stuffed and wrapped around you like loving arms. Scarlett had taken to sitting there with a cup of tea some nights as they traded news of the day or talked about the future, about whether they wanted to know if they were having a girl or a boy. She was scared to try to raise a boy but wanted one for him. He didn’t care, as long as she and the child were healthy and safe. The image of a little girl with Scarlett’s ebony curls and clear blue eyes had the power to stop him in his tracks, to make his heart ache with the urge to cuddle and defend.

  He heaved a sigh. But the baby’s health was only part of what they were here to settle. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted.

  “You always are.” She was still stiff with misery and anger.

  He drew her close, decided to be smarter than he usually was, and shut the hell up. Instead, he used one boot—damn it, he’d forgotten to take it off and there was mud clinging to the side, but no way was he taking it off now. He knew how to mop.

  He set them rocking, and he began to stroke her, head to foot.

  Every trailing glide down her back made him settle a little more, and she, too, began to relax. They rocked in silence for several minutes, and every time words rose to his throat, he ruthlessly quashed them. Touch was doing what words would not, calming her down. Calming him down. He snuggled her closer into his chest.

  At last she rested her head on his shoulder and gave up the fight. When she drifted off to sleep, he knew he’d sit in this chair all night long, if that’s what it took to give her the peace and sleep she so desperately needed. With one hand, he covered their baby in her belly and rocked them both slowly.

  Then he felt a faint flutter. For the very first time.

  Ian swore his heart stopped. He kept his hand there, going as still as he could manage, listening hard, though he understood logically that listening wasn’t going to help.

  Again, little one. Please. Let me feel you once more.

  A second tiny ripple, as delicate as a butterfly’s wings.

  Hello, little one.

  His heart… Had there ever been a feeling like this?

  “Did you just feel…?” Scarlett’s husky voice asked.

  His eyes locked on hers. “Have you ever—?”

  She shook her head. “Not—I didn’t realize…” Tears sprang to her eyes, and he felt his own burn.

  Then there she was, pressing into his chest, arms flung arou
nd his neck. Trembling.

  “I love you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Shh…” He gathered her more tightly into himself, as though somehow it were possible to dissolve the barriers of flesh and become fully one. He closed his eyes and spoke from the heart. “I don’t want to clip your wings. I want you to fly as high as you want. I know you’ve given up every dream you ever had to stay here with me, and I’ll spend my life making it up to you—”

  She reared back, eyes wet, and pressed one palm to his cheek. “You’re my dream. You and—wow.” She glanced down. “I…I don’t…”

  He smiled at her. “I know. She’s real. We’re going to have a baby, Scarlett.” His voice thickened. “I never knew I could love like this. I didn’t know happiness like you existed. If I’m overbearing and too protective, it’s only because—”

  She kissed him, and it was sweet and it made him ache.

  He yanked her to him, buried his head in her shoulder. “I can’t lose you, Scarlett. I have to keep you safe if you won’t do it for yourself, but I don’t want to make you stop loving me. I only—”

  One small hand tightened on the back of his neck, and she sighed from deep inside. “Jeanette’s right. Ambition was my driving force for so long because it was the only way I knew to hide how lonely I was after Mama was gone. It was just me, and I thought I’d be alone forever. So I worked. I became really, really good at one thing. And then when I found Nana, I knew I’d do whatever it took not to disappoint her or she might…” He heard her swallow hard. “It’s embarrassing to be a grown woman and feel this, but a part of me keeps waiting to be sent away. To have to remember how to be alone again. So I work, to make sure I’m never helpless.”

  He sat up and brought her face up to his. “You will never have to be alone or feel helpless again. Ruby will die one day—” He heard her exclamation of dismay. “You know she won’t live forever. Do you honestly think that what she wants as her legacy is a restaurant? You’re her legacy, Scarlett, and our baby extends her footprint into time. Because you’re here, Ruby’s line doesn’t end with her passing. You’ve given her a future and hope. Now give her some of your time, and not in front of a stove. Let her be your grandmother, let her fuss over you—hell, let me fuss over you. Best I can tell, you were the adult in your little family as often as your mom was. Have you ever let anyone else take care of you, really? Do you not get that I’m hardwired to do that? That I consider it my finest duty and my most important job? Especially now, when you’re carrying a part of me inside you, could you please let us both enjoy this special time instead of working yourself into the ground?”

  She sighed and sagged against him. “I don’t know how I can.”

  He started them rocking again. “I can talk to Jackson and explain. He’ll understand. And I’ll talk to Ruby when she gets home in a couple of days.”

  “No.”

  He frowned. Glanced down.

  She started smiling. Used her thumb to rub away the line between his brows. “You are so fierce. Why did I ever think you were easygoing?”

  “Because compared to you, I’m a Zen master?” But he grinned. “Okay, why no?”

  She started to sit up, then fell back against him. “This feels good. I don’t want to move.”

  He smiled. “Please don’t. I like it, too.” He kept rocking. Waited.

  At last she spoke. “I know you want to protect me, but I can’t become a kept woman.”

  Laughter burst from his throat.

  “What?”

  “A kept woman. I wish.” Deep laughter rolled through him again. “Sweetheart, you would have to have a brain transplant to be passive. No offense.”

  “I love your dimple.” She traced it with one finger. “Have I mentioned that lately?”

  That dimple had once embarrassed the living daylights out of him, but he was all about the dimple now, if that kept her attention on him. “Once or twice.” Then he couldn’t stand it—he had to kiss her. The kiss turned long and lascivious. He gathered her closer and delighted when she squirmed and tried to get closer still.

  “Wait—” She pushed at his chest. “I have to say this one thing.”

  “Now?”

  She laughed at what he knew was a pained expression. He wanted her naked. This. Second.

  “Don’t be a baby. Man up.”

  He sighed and laid his head back on the rocker. “Spill.”

  “You’re right that I have to find a new path. I can’t bear to think of not opening Ruby’s Dream until after the baby is born, and I’m not admitting defeat yet, but—I’ll consider it.” She play-smacked his chest. “Don’t grin. It’s not becoming.”

  “Not grinning. Wouldn’t dream of it.” But inside he was tap-dancing.

  “You are not talking to Jackson or Nana on my behalf. I’m a big girl and a professional. Yes, they’re family, but this is business, too.”

  “But you will talk to them? Cut yourself some slack? ’Cause I’m not going to wait forever. If you don’t, I will.”

  “Down, Cro-Magnon. Yes, I’ll talk to them.”

  “When?”

  She began unbuttoning her blouse. “Not before I have my way with you. You okay with that?”

  “Thank heaven.” He sent a glance of fervent gratitude skyward. “I am all over that.” He tried to help her unbutton to hurry things up, and their fingers tangled. He swore and rose, still holding her.

  Then tossed her on the bed. “Oh, no—” He froze. “Can we do this? Did I hurt you?”

  She stripped off her yoga pants while she smiled. “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy, isn’t that the saying?” She crooked a finger. “Get naked and get over here. Don’t make me come after you.”

  He was naked and had her naked seconds later. “You’re so scary,” he said, as he nipped at her thigh.

  Scarlett giggled and grinned…until she moaned.

  Chapter Three

  “What are you doing here? And where’s Scarlett?”

  Standing at the grill in the diner the next morning, Penny jolted. “Aunt Ruby! Where did you come from? You’re not due in until tomorrow. What bride does that, comes home early from her honeymoon?”

  “I don’t suppose you’d know, seein’s how you won’t set a date with that poor Bridger. What are you waiting on, missy? Think a better man is gonna drop in your lap?”

  “No.” Penny tried to keep the surly teenager out of her voice, but Aunt Ruby was making her feel cornered. “We’ll get to it. And no, there’s no better man, and you know it.” She sniffed. “The holidays aren’t a good time for a wedding.”

  Aunt Ruby snorted. “Any time is a good one when you’ve got a man like that waiting.”

  “Says the woman who kept Arnie on a string for eighteen years.”

  “Don’t be impertinent.”

  They grinned at each other, delighted with the impasse. There was nothing quite like a good, rousing challenge, Penny thought.

  Ruby frowned. “I repeat: why are you here? Is something wrong with my granddaughter?”

  Ian had called this morning while Scarlett slept in and explained the situation, asking if she’d help out.

  “Scarlett’s fine, but we voted her a day off.” She crossed one set of fingers behind her back for the lie. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cooking. I happen to be good at it—maybe not Scarlett-good or Ruby-good, but better than Rissa.” She snickered.

  Aunt Ruby joined her laughter. “Poor child. You’d think a stove was a pit of vipers.”

  Penny sobered. “She really didn’t have a chance to learn. She was only twelve when Mama died and—” Both women sighed. The story of the fragmentation of the Gallagher family was an old and sad one.

  “Well,” Ruby said, patting her shoulder. “You’re all back together now. Mary would be so pleased.”

  “I miss my mother so much,” Penny admitted. “Even after all this time.”

  “That never goes away, honey.” Ruby was no doubt
thinking of her own lost daughter Georgia, Scarlett’s mother. “You just have to remember the love. No one loved better than your mama.”

  Suddenly, Penny remembered a Christmas custom from her childhood. “Could we have a Cookie Day?”

  “Your mama did that every year. The whole bunch of you, and she always invited in a few strays like me.”

  “You couldn’t be a stray if you tried, Aunt Ruby.” Penny hugged the tiny woman.

  “Cookie Day?” Brenda appeared in the doorway. “What’s that?” Then she spotted Ruby and beamed. “Ruby! You’re home!” She started to approach, then hesitated.

  “Oh, get yourself over here, girl. I missed you.” Ruby opened her arms wide and gathered in the girl. Penny wondered if Brenda was even out of her teens yet, but nobody knew.

  Then Brenda drew back. “Have you heard about the Christmas dinner yet? Oh, Ruby, it’s going to be great!” Normally so quiet and shy, her pale, near-white hair and slender frame making her seem even more fragile, this Brenda was lit by an inner flame.

  “What Christmas dinner?”

  “Not for you to fix,” Penny hastened to explain. “A community Christmas meal, and everybody’s contributing.”

  Brenda drew a notepad from her apron. “I’m making a list—see?” Her forehead furrowed. “I think we’re going to have too much potato salad.” She grimaced, then brightened. “But plenty of jello salad! I like jello salad. Once I knew this lady who fixed them every Sunday.”

  “Someone in your family?” Ruby asked. Like Penny and everyone else, curiosity reigned concerning this quiet girl who’d shown up one day, bruised and jumpy. Ruby, the saint of strays, had taken her in and given her a job and, more importantly, a place to belong.

  But still, no one knew anything about her past or where she came from.

  “Just…” Brenda shrugged. “One of the moms.”

  “In foster care?” Penny ventured.

  Brenda ducked her head, every trace of joy dimming.

  “Doesn’t matter. So tell me who’s bringing dessert so far,” Ruby prodded.

  Brenda perked up. “Well, Melba Sykes is bringing this orange date cake she says is a family tradition.”