“You’re too forgiving,” he said.
“That’s impossible,” she said. “I don’t think anyone can actually be too forgiving. Can they?”
“In some situations, yes, I think someone can be too forgiving.”
“Well, this isn’t one of those situations.” She pulled her hands back across the table as the waitress appeared with their food. “I want to try too, Jon.”
He flashed her a grateful smile, and Grace enjoyed a meal for the first time since she’d told Jon they should be done.
A week later, Jon had experienced more happiness and more heartache than he ever had in his life. He’d realized that he’d never really lived before. Because he’d never chosen his life. As he realized his shortcomings, he struggled, but as he made decisions, the joy superseded the tough times.
How’s your day going? he texted to Grace during his lunch hour.
Okay, she said. I went for doughnuts this morning, and they didn’t have any bacon maple bars.
Jon wanted to make Grace happy, give her everything she desired. Sorry, babe, he texted. Then he called the bakery and asked them about a special order. They agreed to make a bacon maple bar the following day and save it for Grace. They didn’t deliver, but Jon would drive to town himself and take the doughnut to her.
When he knocked on her front door, she didn’t answer right away. He knew she was awake—the woman rose in the middle of the night. Concern spiked within him when she still didn’t come after he’d knocked again.
He didn’t want to call her—wanted the doughnut to be a surprise—but he pulled out his phone and paced down her front sidewalk. His thumb hovered above the call button when she came jogging down the road toward him.
She saw him a nanosecond after he noticed her, and he shoved his phone in his back pocket. She pulled out her earbuds. “What are you doing here?”
“You run?”
“I have to do something to keep the sweets I eat in check.” She eyed the white bag in his hand. “What is that?”
“Bacon maple bar.” He grinned as he held the pastry toward her.
“You didn’t.” She took the bag and peered inside. When she lifted her eyes back to his, Jon saw admiration in them. “Thank you.” She stepped into his arms and kissed him. He didn’t care that she was sweaty; he kissed her back.
Over the next two weeks, Grace became used to waking up to late-night texts from Jon. He spoiled her constantly, asking her what her interests were, and planning romantic dates to the lesser known attractions in Three Rivers. Once, he’d taken her on an alphabet date—two of them, actually—where they did everything from apple eating contests for the letter A to taste all the types of cheeses at the cheese factory for T. She’d ridden horses, hiked hills, visited the botanical gardens.
Three Rivers had become ingrained in her soul. She loved the shops along Main Street. The friendliness of the townspeople. The close-knit community.
With the bakery only two weeks from opening, she’d started spending her days in the retail space downtown. Heidi had bought the end corner of a building that had suffered fire damage. She’d spent a lot to restore it, and the kitchen gleamed in the early morning light bulbs. Grace arrived at three-thirty and made muffins, brownies, and cookies before Heidi showed up at five to begin the bread.
By six-thirty, when they planned to open, Grace had a tray of samples ready for anyone who wanted to drive or walk by. With the amount of people tasting their toasted sourdough with apricot jam, or the lemon poppyseed muffins, Grace felt sure the bakery would be a success.
She left the bakery just after noon and strolled down the street, her thoughts circling a gift for Jon. With Christmas only days away, she needed something, and fast. She’d gotten to know him better these past few weeks, when they were finally able to talk about real things, their likes and dislikes, their dreams, their worries.
She’d learned that he did love construction, but didn’t like being tied down. The freedom for him to travel to job sites was important to him. She’d learned that he loved staying up late, and Neapolitan ice cream, and watching documentaries. She’d already known he was a hard worker, but the fact was driven home as he and Brett labored to finish what she’d learned was a new horse training facility before Christmas.
“One more day,” he’d told her yesterday, which meant he’d be done today.
He was planning to stay in Three Rivers for Christmas and the New Year as well as be there to support her and Heidi as the bakery opened on January fourth. After that…he’d promised he’d know by Christmas Eve, only three short days away.
She’d known he loved his family, but she’d learned he also wanted one of his own. She’d known he was smart, but she’d figured out that his preferred wardrobe colors consisted of shades of blue, brown, and black.
She’d already purchased a new shirt for him—in red—and a five-gallon container of Neapolitan ice cream. But she wanted more for him. But what, she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She’d already wandered the aisles of the supermarket, the hardware store, and the western wear shop. No luck. Nothing that stood out and screamed Jon!
He was planning a private Christmas Eve dinner for them at her house. She’d promised him a dessert he wouldn’t forget—she had orange chocolate coffee cake and a coconut panna cotta on the menu. The ingredients had been bought. She’d mailed her parents a present a week ago. A lanyard specially made with the bakery logo Chelsea had designed sat wrapped under her mini tree for Heidi.
Grace ducked into a jewelry store, but immediately regretted the decision. All the diamonds made her think of marriage, and she didn’t even know if Jon would still be in town two weeks from now.
Maybe it didn’t hurt to look…. Grace examined the cases of rings, finding green and blue gemstones among the purple and white.
“Looking for yourself?” an elderly woman asked.
“No.” Grace smiled. “Just browsing.” And daydreaming. The woman left her to look while she helped another couple. Grace paused in front of the engagement rings, thinking through what she might like. She’d dated a few men in New York, but chefs often thought highly of themselves and nothing had stuck for longer than a few months. Certainly no one had prompted her to think in diamonds.
She stilled, her heart racing as though she’d just sprinted the last hundred yards of a run. Jon Carver was diamond-worthy. She’d wear his ring with pride. She’d marry him and be happy.
Because she loved him.
A smile moved across her face, stretched down into her soul. She hadn’t prayed to know if Jon was the right man for her. Somehow, since she was a junior in high school, she’d known. Now, she prayed that she could be the right woman for him—and that he would know it before it came time for him to leave town.
Jon almost went off the road three times on the way to Grace’s. The Christmas Eve wind had brought in a storm, but that wasn’t the real reason he couldn’t keep his truck aimed in a straight line.
No, that blame fell on the little, black, jewelry box sitting on the seat next to him. He’d never been so nervous to give a gift in his life. Never been so nervous to eat a meal.
It’s Grace, he told himself, and the nerves faded for a few minutes. But inevitably, they came roaring back. The ingredients for their candlelit dinner sat next to him, and she’d promised she wouldn’t bother him while he mashed and basted and sautéed.
She welcomed him with a quick side hug before she took a few of the grocery bags he carried. “It smells fantastic in here,” he said, sniffing to identify the scent. “What is that?”
“It’s a surprise,” she singsonged. “You’ll have to be patient.” She toted her bags into the kitchen, but Jon paused by the tiny pine tree she’d set up on her end table. Acting quickly, he slipped the jewelry box out of the grocery sack and under the tree. Several other gifts sat there, and he felt certain she wouldn’t notice.
He joined her in the kitchen and started unpacking potatoes and green beans and onions
.
“Mm,” she said. “A man after my own heart.”
He laughed as she petted a potato. “You have the oven ready?”
“As instructed.”
He nodded toward the front door. “I left the ham in my truck. It’s already done. Just needs to be warmed.”
“Be right back.”
Jon couldn’t help watching her walk away, and the feeling he’d been searching for these past few weeks manifested itself—again.
He was in love with Grace Lewis. He smiled at the repeated realization, his heart doing the tango as he thought about moving to Three Rivers.
You have to do it, he told himself. She’s worth it.
She came back through the front door, laden with the heavy baking dish. She slid the ham into the oven and he slid his hands around her waist. “Grace, I have to tell you something.”
She seemed to melt into him, seemed made to fit against him.
For one moment, his brain rebelled. Wouldn’t control his vocal chords long enough to get them to produce sound. He swallowed and found his center when she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.
He gazed into her eyes and saw a life worth having. A life worth having only if it was with her.
“I love you, Grace.”
She sucked in a surprised breath and blinked.
“I’m going to move to Three Rivers so we can be together.” He hadn’t intended to give her his gift before dinner. But he found his feet moving toward the living room, and his hand gently guiding a silent Grace with him.
“I don’t know exactly how you feel, because you haven’t said anything. I know you’ve been giving me time and whatever, and I appreciate that. But I’ve made my decision.” He reached for the box and picked it up. “I prayed about it, and the answer was clear. So though I might not like Three Rivers, I love you. And because your life is here, I want to be here.”
He dropped to one knee and Grace pressed both hands to her mouth, her eyes shining with what Jon hoped were joyful tears.
“It might be fast, and I haven’t asked you when you envisioned your wedding, but Grace, will you marry me?” He flipped open the box the way he’d been practicing for a solid week and held the ring up for her inspection.
She didn’t even look at it. She couldn’t seem to look away from him, and he gazed steadily back, hoping to be the anchor she relied on in her life.
Worry had just wormed its way under his skin when she nodded, a tear fell, and she said, “Yes,” between her fingers.
In a fluid motion, he stood and wrapped her in an embrace. When she stretched up to kiss him, Jon felt sure he was the luckiest man in all of Texas.
“Best Christmas gift ever,” she whispered, her lips practically touching his. “I love you too, Jon.”
He’d thought “yes” was the best thing he’d ever heard, but hearing Grace tell him she loved him sounded a hundred times sweeter. He grinned as he slid the ring on her finger and kissed her again.
“Well, what’d you get me?”
She giggled but didn’t move out of the circle of his arms. “I didn’t put it under the tree. It’s in my bedroom.”
“You gonna make me wait?” He touched his lips to his favorite spot below her ear.
She sighed against him. “I guess not.” She stepped away and hurried down the hall. She returned a moment later with a hatbox. “You see now why I didn’t put it under the tree.” She handed him the gift.
He opened it, expecting to see a cowboy hat—and he did. One of the finest cowboy hats someone could buy. “Grace.” He glanced up at her. “This is too much.”
She folded her arms. “You bought me a diamond. Go on. Put it on.”
He took out the slate gray hat, the weight and texture of it perfect. He placed the hat on his head, and genuine happiness poured through him.
“I noticed you favor blues and grays,” she said. “I thought this would match most of what you wear.”
He locked eyes with her. “You notice what I wear?”
She flashed him a coy smile. “You are a big, strong, handsome man.”
He growled, pulled her toward him, and kissed the best Christmas present he’d ever received.
"For with God nothing shall be impossible."
~Luke 1:37
The long row of cabins at Three Rivers Ranch had never looked more glorious than they did to Taryn Tucker. She stood at the end of them on a Monday morning, her gaze stretching across all twelve of them, the same way she had last week after she’d been offered the job of cleaning them.
Playing maid was a long way from having a professional makeup artist paint her face and a stylist make sure every strand of hair fell the right way. But Taryn much preferred this life to the one she used to have.
Or at least she hoped she would. With eleven small towns behind her, she desperately wanted to find one to live in for a while. She tucked her newly dyed black hair into a ponytail and then stuffed the ends into a messy bun before stooping for her cleaning supplies. Might as well get started.
She thought about the apartment she’d been able to find in Three Rivers, a town she’d stumbled upon quite by accident the week before. She’d never seen quite such an enthusiastic Halloween celebration before. Not even in New Orleans, where she’d been assigned one October a few years ago—and they knew how to celebrate death in Louisiana.
She’d used the last of her meager paycheck from town number eleven, where she’d worked bagging groceries until she got too nervous to stay, to pay for a hotel for a couple of nights until she found the one-bedroom unit above the barber shop on Main Street.
They won’t follow you this far, Taryn told herself as she mounted the steps to the first cabin, the one closest to the homestead where she’d been instructed to replenish her cleaning supplies.
At least Taryn hoped they wouldn’t. She wasn’t even sure who “they” were, only that someone from her former employer wanted to know where she’d disappeared to. As if the public humiliation she’d caused as well as endured couldn’t be viewed twenty-four hours a day via the Internet.
Six months had passed. Surely the news station would find another story to focus on, especially in a city the size of Corpus Christi. Taryn had been praying for a hurricane, and though they sat in the thick of the season, God had not granted her requests for such a storm. It was just as well. She didn’t want to be responsible for tragedy and death just to get the attention off her messed up personal life.
She mourned the loss of such a life as she fitted the master key into the lock. Still, the owner of the ranch, Squire Ackerman, hadn’t seemed to recognize her—and why would he? she asked herself.
Corpus Christi television stations didn’t broadcast to dinky Three Rivers. But somehow, Taryn carried the weight of who she’d been and it cumbered her shoulders, weighed her down.
She entered the cabin and set her bucket of supplies on the floor so she could return to retrieve the vacuum cleaner. Apparently cleaning the cowboy cabins was a brand-new job; Squire had never hired someone to do it before. According to him, his cowboys right now were of the messy variety.
Taryn lugged the vacuum up the steps and into the cabin, pausing to wipe the first inklings of sweat from her forehead. She clutched the bucket with one hand and towed the vacuum behind her with the other as she headed for the bedroom in the back of the quiet cabin. She’d mapped out a plan of attack to get three of the twelve cabins done each day, and that started with working from the back to the front. Each cabin would be done in two hours, with fifteen-minute breaks in between.
Squire had agreed to her plan during the second interview, and given her the requested four-day work week. Taryn was really looking forward to a three-day weekend each week, and her spirits lifted as she barged through the bedroom door.
“Hey!” A man stood there, barely wearing a pair of jeans. He fumbled with the zipper while Taryn stared. With his pants securely in place, he folded his arms across his bare chest. His impressively wide
bare chest.
“Who might you be?” He grinned at her, an action which made her mortification fall down a notch. He reached for a white undershirt lying on the unmade bed and pulled it over his sandy-haired head. He obviously hadn’t shaved that morning—or any morning in the past month. Red and lighter brown salted his beard, which he’d trimmed neatly along his jawline.
Taryn swallowed, unable to find her voice. His blue-gray eyes sucked at her. They seemed filled with lightning, with laughter, with life. She envied him immediately.
“It’s no big deal,” he said. “I just don’t normally have pretty women back here.” He pulled a blue and black plaid shirt from his closet and put it on. “My name’s Kenny Stockton.” He stepped toward her and offered his hand.
She dropped her cleaning bucket and put her hand inside his, and it looked child-sized comparatively. She swallowed and took a calming breath. He didn’t seem upset she’d walked in on him. “Taryn Tucker.” She cringed at her near-perfect delivery, as if she was signing off one of her newscasts. I’m Taryn Tucker. Good-night, Corpus Christi.
“Pleased to meet you, Taryn Tucker.” He looked at her curiously, but he didn’t seem to recognize her. She glanced around for a television in his bedroom and didn’t find one. Her muscles softened, and she allowed herself to smile at the handsome cowboy who still held her hand.
“Sorry I barged on in,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone would be home. Squire said the cowhands are up early to do their jobs.”
Kenny slid his hand away from hers. “Yeah, I got real dirty during the haul this mornin’. Came back to shower before heading over to the admin trailer for my next assignment.” He glanced around, as if just now noticing that beds could be made. “Sorry about the mess.”
She forced herself to give a light giggle. “That’s my job. If you go doin’ it, I won’t get paid.” And she needed the money. Her salary had long dried up, and the hourly-wage jobs she’d been getting by with never seemed to pay enough.
Christmas in Three Rivers: Three Rivers Ranch Romance Novella Collection Page 19