Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  “Wait there…” With that she disappeared out of the door. He heard tiny stamps along the corridor and back again. She had her handbag in one hand and a wad of papers in the other. “The divorce papers.”

  “You brought them here?” Was he having a mind melt? After all this, she still wanted…?

  But she grinned and tore the papers into tiny shreds, flinging them upwards, and they floated through the air, landing in their hair, on the floor, on tinsel. She laughed and caught some of the shreds in her palm. “Hey, it looks like snow…no, confetti. Now that is pure irony, right there.”

  He stopped watching the papers and concentrated on her. So beautiful it made his heart ache. “Yes, it certainly is.”

  She smiled, her grip on his waist tightening. “I love you, Danny. So very, very much. I’ll be your friend and your network. I’ll be by your side too…every single step of the way. Oh, and I’m very good at distraction therapy. So now I am going to sleep with my husband. In our bed.”

  “About bloody time.” Then he kissed her, open-mouthed and wild. “What are we waiting for?”

  “No. Hang on. I just need to do one more thing.” And again she dug in her bag and back again—held out a small box. “Now…do this, please.”

  “Are you sure?” He took her wedding ring and placed it at the tip of her left ring finger. His heart felt as if it was going to swell right out of his chest.

  She looked at the ring, all shiny and symbolic there on her left hand. “Sure. I’m still married, aren’t I?”

  “You most definitely are.” He slid the ring back on to her finger then took her in his arms. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

  “You too, Danny.”

  This was going to be the best Christmas ever.

  EPILOGUE

  The next day…

  The trouble with weddings, Danny mused as he watched the bride walk sedately up the makeshift sandy aisle of mistletoe and white roses tied onto the backs of white wooden chairs…was the expectation.

  Expectation that the Best Man’s speech would be hilarious. He hoped it would be—but he hadn’t even looked over it for a day or so. He’d been a little…distracted.

  That the bridesmaids would be beautiful…he craned his neck to look past Megan and there she was. In a billowing pale blue dress, following the bride. Her shoulders were bare, her hair in lose curls. She was smiling at him and his heart did a somersault. Again. He just couldn’t believe he’d gotten a second chance. This time he would show her how much he loved her.

  That the Best Man would have to take his eyes off his wife to play his role. To give the damned speech. To dance. When all he wanted to do was take her back to bed.

  “We are gathered here today…” the celebrant started the service. Bas and Megan slotted next to each other at the front. No signs of nerves, just a confidence that Daniel knew would see them both through any rocky times they may face ahead.

  The service went without a hitch or a dry eye, and Dan focused on their special day because he owed his friends so much; they’d kept him hopeful and alive. They’d brought his wife back home.

  But much later, after the first dance had happened and the last guest had gone, he found her outside the wedding venue, sitting on a bench looking up at the stars. Instead of sitting down next to her, he took up his rightful place; on one knee, in front of her. “Emma, I have something to ask you.”

  “Oh.” She looked at his position and frowned. “Are you…? Surely…no? Really? But Danny, we’re already married.”

  There was a thrum inside him that felt as if his whole body was smiling. How could he be this lucky? “I know. We’ve spent a lot of time discussing went wrong for us, but I think it’s time for us to start looking forward. I want to begin by marrying you. A fresh start. Renew our vows? Will you please, do me the honor of being my wife all over again?”

  “Oh, …oh, yes. Yes, what a fantastic idea. That’s…amazing! Yes. Yes, please.” She cupped his face and kissed him. “So, these grand gestures are coming thick and fast.”

  “I have a lot of making up to do.” He brushed a rogue tear from her cheek and studied her face. “Now…timing. I always thought Christmas Day was a most excellent choice for a wedding. What about you?”

  She looked like she was sorely tempted to push him over, but instead she just shook her head and laughed. “But you hate Christmas.”

  “I know. But I love you.”

  “Oh, Danny, I love you too. But I don’t want to wait that long.”

  “Then we’ll do it tomorrow. Or next week. Just, let’s make sure we do it. Soon.” Then her perfect lips were on his and he didn’t care when they got married again, just as long as they spent the rest of their lives together. “Now come on, wife. We have a lot more making up to do.”

  “Absolutely, my love.” She stood, pulling him up with a teasing and knowing smile. Because making up was something they were very good at. Then she wrapped her arm around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder. “Okay, husband of mine, take me home.”

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for picking up my story, I hope you enjoyed a brief visit to the wonderful island of Waiheke, which is just off the coast of Auckland, New Zealand and a fabulous place to spend a summer, or even just a night.

  If you enjoyed Emma and Dan’s story make sure you look out for more of my Weddings in Waiheke series (Bas and Megan’s story is currently in progress). I also write books for Tule publishing and Harlequin Mills and Boon Medical line.

  To keep up with all my release and book news, please visit me at my website and subscribe to my newsletter. I do giveaways and cover reveals and lots of fun stuff for my subscribers. If you want to follow me on social media (I do Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook and Instagram) all the details are also on my website. I also blog at:

  LoveCats DownUnder and Love is the Best Medicine

  I love hearing from readers, so drop me a line, come and say hi!

  Thanks again for taking a chance on me and my books.

  Happy reading!

  Louisa x

  HER CHRISTMAS COWBOY

  ~

  HELEN LACEY

  For my writing buddy, conference roomie, confidante and friend Louise Cusack. You make the job of being a writer an easier one.

  Copyright © 2015 Helen Lacey

  All rights reserved.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Elyse Prescott broke out in a sweat the moment her car passed the Welcome to Denary sign on the highway, just ten kilometers out of town. She slowed down a fraction and took a deep breath. She’d be home in less than fifteen minutes. And back on the farm that she’d left ten years earlier.

  The drive was still as pretty though, she thought as she took in the wall of sugar cane that lined the road on either side. It was near the end of the cutting season, but there was still enough cane left on the landscape to remind her that she was definitely home. Denary was a small, inland town about seven hours north of Brisbane. With a stagnant population of around eight hundred, and a highway that had been re-routed a decade earlier, it meant the town now survived on grit and cane farming.

  Once, before the highway had shifted, Denary had caught the endless supply of holidaymakers and grey-nomaders vacationing along the coastline. But times had changed.

  They certainly had.

  Elyse glanced to her left. Billy-Jean was dozing beside her. Her nineteen-year-old sister had been asleep for the better part of an hour, as had the baby strapped securely in the back seat. Billy-Jean’s baby. Now, that had been a surprise. She’d rocked up on Elyse’s doorstep two days earlier, with three-month old Jackson on her hip. B.J. always made an entrance that was for sure.

  Elyse loved her sister dearly, and had certainly been concerned when B.J. announced a year earlier that she was taking a gap year after high school – leaving Denary and determined to take a break from studying to travel. But eventually she’d been worn down and agreed to fund her sister’s g
reat adventure. She could afford it and B.J. had never really asked her for much over the years. A backpacking holiday through Europe wasn’t exactly extravagant, after all.

  Of course, if she’d known her sister was pregnant she certainly wouldn’t have agreed to the idea so easily. But at the time she’d been neck deep in work and a messy breakup from her then fiancé. She hadn’t spared a lot of time for her family, or her sister, and the guilt she felt ran deep. If she’d been less self-absorbed she might have seen it coming.

  But now she was back. To help B.J. settle back into her old life and to see their father.

  And not to see Brett.

  Ten years is a long time. Too long to worry about an old boyfriend and the disaster she’d left in her wake when she’d run from Denary, and Brett McCrane, at eighteen.

  The trouble was, Brett’s younger brother was Jackson’s father. Which mean one thing – complicated. The kind of complicated Elyse didn’t want or need. She didn’t want to see Brett again. They’d parted badly and it was better left in the past. She didn’t want to think about his blue eyes or goofy grin that always made her smile. Or his broad shoulders that always felt like a haven.

  No…the past was best left exactly where it was.

  “Are we there yet?”

  Her sister’s voice jerked her back into the moment. “Just about.”

  She turned off and headed down a dusty driveway. The house came into view once they rounded a corner past a wall of sugar cane. And her heart sank. The place looked old. Run down. Not like the home she’d known growing up. If her mother were alive things would be different. But Amy Prescott had died over sixteen years ago.

  “Can we just turn around and keep driving?” B.J. asked, her pretty face suddenly pale.

  “Not a chance,” Elyse replied. “You have to face this, B.J. And you have to face Rick. He’s Jackson’s father. And it was wrong of you to keep it from him.”

  Her sister’s expression hardened a little. “I know, alright. I should have told him I was pregnant before I left for my trip. I just didn’t want him to try and talk me out of going. I needed to get away,” B.J. said, and raised both brows. “You should get that better than anyone.”

  Elyse sighed. “I do. But when I left Denary I wasn’t carrying someone’s baby. I left because I wanted a career.”

  “I thought you left because you didn’t want to hook up with Brett for the rest of your life.” B.J. said and shrugged. “He’s not married, you know? I mean, not anymore.”

  Elyse ignored the prickles across her skin. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You know you’re gonna have to see him, right? He’s Rick’s brother and –”

  “I know who he is, Billy-Jean,” she said, using her sister’s full name for effect. “And Brett McCrane and I are ancient history.”

  It felt good to say it out loud. And to feel it right through to her bones.

  “I know, but–”

  “Right now you have more important things to worry about,” Elyse reminded her and motioned to the baby in the back seat as they rounded the driveway and she pulled up outside the house. “Like Jackson. And Rick,” she added when she spotted the youngest McCrane son walk through the front door of the old house and stand on the porch, hands on his jean clad hips. He looked so much like his brother that Elyse’s stomach tied in knots. Especially when she spotted Brett’s old truck parked beside the house. It was probably Rick’s truck now. That’s how things were done in the country.

  B.J. looked nervous. “Rick’s so mad with me.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Elyse assured her sister and patted her arm. “It’ll be fine. Once he meets his beautiful son he’ll forgive you for not telling him.”

  “I hope so.”

  Elyse knew her sister had been talking to Rick on the phone every night since she’d landed on her doorstep a couple of days earlier. Elyse had insisted she call him and tell him the truth and prepare him for her return. To say he was surprised to discover he was a dad was an understatement, but B.J. seemed to be handling it. He was angry, certainly, but had insisted she come home so he could meet his son. Which was why Elyse had immediately flown with her sister to Brisbane and then taken the long drive to Denary.

  Coming home was long overdue for Elyse too. And with Christmas just a few days away, she knew it was time she really reconnected with her family. Despite how much the idea of being back home twisted her inside out.

  “Come on,” she said as she took a deep breath as she pulled up and switched off the ignition. “Let’s do this.”

  B.J. nodded as Elyse flicked off her seat belt and opened the door. Their father was now walking around the side of the house, his familiar figure both reassuring and unnerving. Frank Prescott had never quite forgiven her for leaving Denary ten years ago…or for leaving Brett. Brett McCrane was the son he’d never had and because of that they’d never made peace over it. They couldn’t. And Elyse had learned to accept that her dad would always feel a sense of disappointment in her.

  Elyse moved around the car as Frank approached the passenger door. B.J. hugged him first and then moved to retrieve Jack from the back seat. Elyse watched and waited as her sister introduced their father to his grandson before she spoke.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He looked up and met her gaze. “Hi, yourself.”

  She spoke to her father once a week on the telephone, but hadn’t been so close to him in ten years. She longed to hug him, to let him know he was always very much in her thoughts. But she hung back. Close up, she noticed he looked thinner.

  “Well, I’d better this over with,” B.J. said and cradled Jack in her arms as she looked towards the house. Rick was still on the porch, still with his hands on his hips. “Wish me luck.”

  Elyse stayed where she was and watched as her sister walked up the path and climbed the steps. She turned her attention back to her father to give the young couple some privacy.

  “So, how have you been, Dad?”

  Frank Prescott nodded. “Good.”

  “You’re still cutting?” she asked and waved an arm toward the field of cane. “Aren’t you usually done by now?”

  He shrugged. “Got a problem with the harvester so we’re a bit behind schedule.”

  Elyse was immediately on red-alert. A broken harvester meant one thing…money troubles. The farm had been sinking further into debt every year for the past decade and this year was clearly no exception.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  It was her way of asking her father if he needed financial help. They both knew it. They also both knew that Frank Prescott was way too proud to take money from his daughter. Even if it meant saving the family farm.

  “Not a thing,” he said stiffly. “So, how long are you stayin’?”

  Elyse grabbed one of the bags from the back seat and passed it to her father. “I thought I would stay over the Christmas break and help B.J. settle in with the baby,” she replied and took out another bag. “Is that okay?”

  He shrugged. “This is still your home. Ten years away don’t make it any different.”

  It was a dig and a curt reminder of how much of a disappointment she was to her father. It didn’t matter that she was a successful corporate lawyer with one of the biggest firms in Sydney. To Frank Prescott, all that mattered was that she’d left Denary, the farm he considered her legacy, and his plans to marry her off to Brett McCrane when she was eighteen.

  She swallowed the heat in her throat. “Thanks, Dad. It’s really good to be home.”

  He nodded vaguely and took the two bags. “Brett’s inside,” he said quietly. “In case you were wondering.”

  She had been wondering. Of course he was inside. His old truck was parked by the side of the house, for one thing. And with what was happening to his younger brother, Elyse knew he wouldn’t be too far away. One thing Brett McCrane believed in was family. He’d once told her it was all that mattered. He’d be close at hand to make sure Rick was okay. A
nd she had to face him.

  I can do hard things.

  As he father headed toward the house, Elyse hung back, grabbed her own small suitcase and locked the car. B.J. and Rick were still on the porch, deep in conversation, the baby held tightly in the young man’s arms.

  Maybe this will actually work out.

  She hoped so. For everyone’s sake.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Brett McCrane never considered himself to be any kind of coward. But he knew that hanging around the kitchen of Frank Prescott’s farmhouse to avoid seeing Elyse arrive was about as spineless as he could get.

  And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to talk himself out of it.

  He’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes cutting chunks of ham and cheese and making a mountain of sandwiches he wasn’t sure anyone would eat. And thinking. Thinking about his brother. Thinking about the time he was wasting cutting ham and cheese. And thinking about Elyse.

  Once, long ago, he’d been mad for her. He’d craved her like a thirsty man craved water. They’d started dating in her last year of high school. She’d been seventeen, Brett two years older. But once high school ended everything changed. Elyse wanted out. Of Denary. And of him. She didn’t want to be tied down. She didn’t want the ring he tried to give her. She wasn’t the wife and mother type. She wanted an education and a career.

  And she got both.

  He’d spent the best part of ten years not thinking about her, which had been easy because she hadn’t shown her face in Denary for a decade. She’d moved on. He’d moved on. He’d got married. And divorced.

  Brett knew Elyse was a successful lawyer and had achieved everything she’d planned. And in a way, he admired her. But that didn’t mean he wanted to see her again. The past was better left exactly where it was. They had nothing to say to one another. Not one damned thing.

  “Hello, Brett.”

  Except for that.

  He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Exactly as he remembered. His stomach rolled over and he placed the knife on the counter.