Texas Christmas Bride: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Book 6

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Texas Christmas Bride: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Book 6 Page 11

by Jean Brashear


  “All right,” Jeanette spoke up. “Time for the attendants to model their gowns.”

  Rissa groaned. “Girl clothes.”

  But Penny beamed. “Our dresses match my eyes. Perfect.”

  “They were intended to match Jackson’s,” Jeanette reminded her.

  “Lucky we’re twins, huh?”

  “Uncle Tank?” Ben said, crossing the second floor of the old dry goods store.

  Tank Patton glanced up from where he was working on installing a door. “Did you need something?”

  Ben swallowed. He’d been afraid of his mom’s brother for a long time. Folks in Sweetgrass considered him a bully, and the kids at Ben’s school either feared him or talked bad about him. At best, he’d been a thorn in Ben’s side, and they’d had little to do with him while Ben was growing up.

  But recently his mom had explained about the abuse his uncle had shielded her from when they were growing up. Their father Vernon Patton had been a cruel man, and though Ben couldn’t say he understood Uncle Tank, really, or even liked him much…maybe he could picture a little how he’d feel if anyone ever raised a hand to Abby or Beth.

  He’d kill them, for sure. The idea of violence was foreign to him, since he’d been raised with love surrounding him all his life, but he’d fight to defend his family in a heartbeat.

  His mom and Uncle Tank hadn’t been so lucky, he’d learned. Ben thought maybe he could see how living in a state of war could change everything.

  Lately, his mom had been encouraging Uncle Tank to come around, including him in family meals and such. His uncle was a deputy sheriff whose territory included the whole county, and his schedule was unpredictable so he wasn’t around often, but…maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

  Ben screwed up his courage. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about the wedding.”

  Tank’s brows snapped together. “I thought you were okay with it.”

  “I am,” Ben hastened to reassure his uncle. “Really, I am.” He hesitated. “You don’t really like my dad, do you?”

  Uncle Tank’s mouth twisted. “I’m trying to.” After a pause he continued. “Veronica loves him, and he’s turning out to be good for her, but—” His gaze whipped to Ben’s. “He wasn’t always.”

  Ben still didn’t really know everything that had happened between his parents, but he tried to imagine how he’d feel if he’d lost his mom and his father had hated him, the way his pop’s life had gone. He screwed up his courage again. “I’m positive he didn’t want to hurt her.”

  Tank grunted. “He got her pregnant and left town.”

  “But he didn’t know, Uncle Tank. He would have stayed if he’d known about me.”

  His uncle shook his head as if he wasn’t convinced. “No point in arguing over that. Point is, your mama loves him and you love him, and we’ll get along. Somehow,” he muttered.

  “Is it only Mom that’s the problem you have with him?”

  Uncle Tank looked away. “Bad blood goes a lot farther back, but it’s water under the bridge now.”

  “I could…listen. If you wanted to talk.”

  His uncle eyed him curiously. “I think you mean that.”

  “I do.”

  Tank turned back to his work. “Old news,” he said. “Grab the other side, would you?”

  Ben hastened to help. They worked in silence for a few minutes.

  “So what was it you wanted to ask me?”

  “Well, see, since my father doesn’t know about this wedding, I just—he needs to know I’m good with this because he left it up to me, see. But the girls and Mom want him to be surprised and—”

  “What about you?”

  “What?”

  “Do you want him to be surprised?” Tank asked. “My old man didn’t like surprises. Things went bad when he was taken unawares.”

  Wow. Ben didn’t know how to answer that, and Uncle Tank looked uncomfortable now.

  He had to say something and make it right. “Um, well…he told Mom the only Christmas present he wanted was for her to marry him, and then when I wasn’t sure what to do about him wanting to adopt me—”

  “You’re his. Why would he need to adopt you?”

  “I don’t know exactly. My dad—um, David is on my birth certificate, so I guess that has to be corrected.”

  “And Jackson just left it up to you? He was willing to wait for you?” Uncle Tank looked at him like he must be hearing things.

  “He did.”

  Tank’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.

  “Um…so I can’t keep the surprise if I tell him now, but he needs to know I’m okay with it at the wedding.”

  His uncle was frowning, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “So I was wondering…I know Mom has asked you to give her away, but I was wondering if I could maybe help with that.”

  “How?”

  Ben shrugged. “Maybe walk on her other side or something? So Pops would know I’m okay with it?” He felt his face heat. “That sounds stupid, right? I just…he’s made it clear that I have to agree to be adopted, and now Mom’s all excited about the surprise, but I just can’t figure how…”

  “I think that would be fine.”

  “I just can’t see—” Ben broke off. “Really?”

  Tank nodded. “Really. But you’re the one with all the words, so you have to figure out what we say.”

  Ben swallowed hard. “For real, Uncle Tank?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank you. I’ll figure out something great to say, I swear it.” Then he grabbed his big, formidable uncle in a hug that seemed to shock his uncle as much as it did Ben.

  His uncle immediately stiffened, but just as Ben was about to draw away in embarrassment—

  His uncle kind of hugged him back. Just for a second.

  Ben realized he wasn’t sure anyone had ever hugged his uncle before.

  “Thanks, Uncle Tank. You’re awesome.”

  His uncle’s eyes flew wide. Maybe he’d been thought of as a bully so long that no one had ever seen that he could be anything else…

  Ben would have to think about that.

  Then his uncle turned away quickly. Cleared his throat.

  Ben didn’t know how to handle any of this, so he, too, stepped away. “Well, um…thanks again, Uncle Tank. I’ll—I’ll talk to you soon, all right?”

  His uncle didn’t turn around but only nodded.

  Ben walked away.

  But couldn’t help looking back.

  And wondering.

  Chapter Eight

  Jackson flew back with a plane full—eight of his key employees, none of whom had families and who were willing to travel, even if they weren’t sure about the eventual goal of relocation.

  He’d just have to show them Sweetgrass and hope for the best. Nearly two weeks had flown by as he’d worked morning, noon and night with hired help and donated help, all with the goal of setting up Sweetgrass to shine its best.

  But he might as well be taking them all to the dark side of the moon, for all that it resembled anything this bunch had ever experienced.

  This might not work.

  But he hoped it would. Wanted that a lot.

  However things went, though, he was going home to Vee. To his kids. To his friends and family, for the first Christmas he wouldn’t be spending trying to forget what one could be like. Trying to pretend it was just another day. Working most of it.

  He felt like a kid at… He smiled. At Christmas.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Steph said. “But sit down. My neck hurts, craning so high.”

  He realized he’d been pacing the plane, so eager he was to get home. If he could shove the plane through the air to cut down the time, he would. He might not get to marry Veronica at Christmas, but he still had Veronica. She was the real gift, her and their children.

  They were his children by heart, legal yet or not.

  And Christmas was so going to rock. The cargo space was full of toys and c
lothes and books he’d bought on a shopping spree to bring home for Secret Santa.

  Including a Santa suit. He wasn’t sure yet who he was going to con into playing Santa, but Harley seemed like a good prospect. The thought made him chuckle.

  “What?” Steph asked.

  He sat down across from her. “There are such characters in Sweetgrass. I think you’re going to have a great time.”

  “I still don’t think it’s smart for me to stay with you and your family.”

  “Why not?”

  The new Steph was a shadow of the old femme fatale. This one was much more subdued, but in this second, a little of the old Steph popped up. “Seriously? We’ve been more to each other than just coworkers, J. Veronica may be a saint, as you insist, but no woman is going to like that.” She shook her head. “It won’t work, and I’m not wrecking your Christmas by trying.”

  The woman who had once taken nothing seriously had been replaced by one who was sometimes too quiet, others too angry.

  But he couldn’t abandon her. She’d been a part of building Enigma, and though Ty’s breakdown might not be all Jackson’s fault, he felt like it was.

  He owed her.

  He wanted to fix her.

  Surely Sweetgrass would help.

  “I’m not going to make you stay there, Steph, I just thought it might be good for you. But if you really don’t want to, Aunt Ruby would let you stay at her place, I’m sure.”

  “Can’t I just get a hotel room in Austin? Then you can have your family time, and I’ll just pop over now and again.”

  He knew that was what she wanted, to burrow away again. To hide like a wounded animal. Healing was going to take time, and the wounds were fresh still, but…he just couldn’t let her fade away. Her plight might not be all his fault—but he bore the brunt of it, for not seeing what was happening with Ty, if nothing else.

  He crouched in the aisle beside her seat. “Please give this a try, Steph. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but these are good people. They just might restore your faith in human nature.”

  A mirthless laugh. “Doubtful.” She turned away and stared out the window. “How much longer?”

  Too long, he thought, itching to see his family again.

  While worried that his whole crew would hate Sweetgrass if they wouldn’t give it a chance.

  He stood up. Raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Listen up, people.”

  The talk slowed, then ceased.

  “I can’t explain Sweetgrass to you in terms you’d understand. I can’t make you feel what I feel when I’m there.” He paused. “I also can’t promise nirvana there.”

  “Come on, boss man. Cows and empty space…that’s not heaven?” But Vinny Mattucci was grinning. “Just tell me there’s a hot cowgirl or two wearing tight jeans.”

  “Or a little bitty skirt with boots,” called out Ted Bickham.

  “You guys are disgusting,” said his lone female producer, Gillian Simmons.

  “You know you’re hoping for a cowboy with a big…belt buckle,” yelled Damon Griffin, called Big D because he was about five foot six and one-twenty, soaking wet.

  He glanced at Steph and saw a faint smile. He’d take a boatload of teasing if doing so would obtain that result.

  He looked up again and knew that Sweetgrass was likely no better prepared for his geeks than they were for his town. This might prove a disaster of epic proportions.

  “There are definitely hot women in Sweetgrass.” He smiled slowly. “But most of them are related to me. So…behave yourselves, all right? Give the town a chance.”

  Most of them nodded, willing, if clearly skeptical.

  It was all he could ask.

  “Bridger, this is beautiful,” his kid sister Molly said. She gestured with a sweep of her arm. “Look at this view…amazing. Your front porch?”

  He nodded and took in again the sight that never ceased to move him. “Two big rockers right here. I’m going to make them myself. Quinn Marshall said he’d help if I needed it. He’s made all kinds of furniture for their home.”

  “I still can’t believe you know Josh Marshall’s brother.”

  “Josh, too. He helped us with the courthouse and put in time here last weekend, working on the old dry goods store renovation.” He grinned, reading her mind. “And yes, he and the rest of the Marshalls will be here for the Christmas celebration and the wedding that’s still, to everyone’s astonishment, a surprise for Jackson.”

  “That’s just so fantastic. Would be even if The Sexiest Man Alive weren’t in attendance.”

  “But nice that he will be, right?” There were stars in her eyes, and Bridger smothered a chuckle.

  She tried for a shrug, but gave in and squealed. Jumped up and down a couple of times. “No one back in Chicago will believe me—I guess it’s too much to ask to take a selfie with him?”

  “That’s not how we behave around him here. It’s why he and Walker Roundtree like to visit, because they’re treated as regular people. Which, if you spend any time with them, you’ll discover they both actually are. Neither one has a big head.”

  “Walker Roundtree? For real?” Her eyes were big as saucers. “What is it about this place? Oh. My. Gosh. I want to call my friend Charlene so bad!”

  “But you won’t,” he said sternly.

  A sigh. “I am an adult, Bridger.”

  “If a starstruck one.” He grinned.

  “I’m only human. Okay, one more squee, then I’ll settle down.” She squealed really loud, jumped around in a circle for about ten hops, then stopped. Cleared her throat. “All right. I’m in adult mode from here on.”

  “Why start now?” he teased and hugged her to his side.

  They stared out at the view in silence. “This is a good home,” she murmured with reverence. “You’ve never had that, not really.”

  He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

  She wouldn’t be brushed off. She turned to him, all five feet four of her, bright hair bouncing, and gripped his arm. “Don’t make light of it, Bridger. This is huge, what you’ve found here. Family, friends, a woman to love you…and this—” She stared out again, holding onto him. Then she nestled against his bicep, her head inches below his shoulder. “I had a home…after. But you never did.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Her face tipped up to him. “I know you are. You make the best of things. I was young back then, but you always did, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. I was mad as hell back then. Angry and frustrated because Mom wouldn’t—”

  “Wouldn’t leave him?” she paused. “I heard you once. You were begging her to go, to take us away. You said you could work and make us money. You were, what, fourteen?”

  “Something like that.” Thirteen, actually.

  “She would never leave him. I couldn’t understand what was happening the way you did, but…our father wasn’t always terrible, right?”

  Oh, no. A man who’d murder his children’s mother, then take the easy way out and off himself, leaving them to face the disaster, that’s not so bad, right? He ground his teeth and remained silent.

  But she seemed to see more than he might want. “Of course what he did was horrible. I know that, even if you shielded me from most of it.”

  “Most of it? You wound up with strangers! That’s not bad? You saw me go batshit crazy and try to kill two cops!”

  “You didn’t try to kill them,” she said patiently. “Even that young, I understood what was happening. You were trying to get to us, and they wouldn’t let you. You wanted to protect us, as always.”

  “Great job, huh? Kathleen and Nathan still missing, so many years you and I have lost—” He stalked off and wrestled his emotions under control.

  She approached him on silent feet. “But we have each other now. You found me. I’m doing well. I’m happy. You’re doing great—and you’re about to be much better once you marry Penny.”

  “If I get to marry her,”
he muttered.

  “What’s that?” When he wouldn’t face her, she stepped around. Looked him square in the eye. “Bridger, you can’t think she doesn’t love you. I’ve watched you together. Anyone can see that in five seconds.”

  “Then what the hell is she waiting on?” he exploded.

  She took a step back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not—” He ground his jaw. “It will be all right. It will. She just needs time.” Though what the hell for, when he’d given her every reassurance he could come up with, he had no idea.

  He exhaled in a gust. Turned back. “We’ll end up fine. She’s just…scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “She doesn’t think she’s any good at love.”

  “She’s full of love, from what I can tell.” Molly’s face split in a grin. “Which is not to be confused with being a soft touch. She does protect her shell, doesn’t she?”

  “She left D.C. for me. It wasn’t her idea to live in Sweetgrass, it was mine. There is a ton of baggage from her past, and being here still hurts her a little, I think…but she came. For me.” A quick, rueful grin. “It’s like hunting.”

  “Hunting? And she’s what, a deer?”

  Bridger chuckled. “I’ll call you a liar if you repeat that.”

  Molly giggled. “Yeah, I don’t want to see you dismembered. Death by stiletto and sharp tongue.”

  “That’s my Penelope.”

  “Anyone can see that she’s crazy about you.”

  “I know. She’s survived for years by not letting herself feel. An asset when you’re a shark lawyer, but when you’re the object of a man’s affection…not so great.” His mouth quirked. “But you can’t say you love someone then spend all your time trying to change them. Rissa says some horses have to be led to believe it’s their idea.”

  “First hunting, now training a horse. Do yourself a favor, big brother. Refrain from saying these things out loud in her presence.”

  “What? Do I look stupid?” He shook his head. “Stupid in love, yeah…but I don’t have a death wish. I may know a dozen ways to kill someone, but Penelope? She can dismember without leaving a scratch.”

 

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