by Ellie Hall
Ryan swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
It was true. Ryan had good health, a loving family, and natural talent on the field. Not to say he didn’t work hard, but he was blessed. Leaving Rachel then learning about her mother left her in a terribly fragile place. It was time to make it right.
The back door to the restaurant opened, letting in a gust of cold air. Rachel stood in the doorway, shivering.
Their eyes met. Hers were rimmed red and damp. The sight of her and the burden she carried, practically alone, crushed him.
“I’ll be Santa,” Ryan said.
“What?” she asked. Confusion wrinkled her nose.
“I heard that Coach Robbins can’t be Santa. You need a Santa. I’ll be Santa.”
She tied her apron around her waist and rattled off the time for the visit to cheer up the hospital patients. Then she brushed past him and back into the dining room.
Ryan returned to his table.
Jimmy crunched on a chip.
Josh shrugged.
“So what’s the deal?” Andrew asked.
“Don’t ever upset Thistle.” Ryan cocked an eyebrow in warning.
“Because he’ll spit in your food?”
“Worse,” Ryan answered. He’d put a guy through his paces if not shove him in the meatgrinder.
Ryan changed the subject by asking the guys about their holiday plans. When it was his turn he simply asked, “Anyone know where I can get a Santa suit?”
After another hour, they paid the bill and got up to leave. Ryan invited them to the charity gala in Denver. He tried to catch Rachel’s attention, but she bustled around, keeping her distance.
Finally, she walked past. “Rachel, are you going to be at the gala tomorrow night?” Ryan called.
She paused and then shifted from foot to foot, closed her eyes, and then let out a long exhale. “Text me the address.”
“Do you have the same number?” he asked.
“Same number. You?”
He nodded.
“Then why didn’t you ever reply to me?” She leveled him with a glare.
Ryan had taken countless blows on the field over the years. During his first season on the team, he’d even gotten a concussion. But he’d never winced as hard as he did hearing those words. Not because she was right, but because of the way he must’ve made her feel when he so selfishly turned his back on her.
Andrew let out a low whistle. “Ooh, burn.”
Ryan was determined to make it right.
They stepped outside while Ryan deflected Andrew’s countless questions about his relationship with Rachel. Her mother’s beat-up four-wheel-drive SUV sat in the snow-covered parking lot. The stickers for their high school were still on the back window. Rachel got her enthusiasm for everything from Mrs. Moore. It pained him to think of her being sick, and Rachel having to support her on her own.
Ryan kicked the tire, feeling frustrated. She didn’t have snow tires. “Hey, Andrew, Josh, could we get these replaced?”
She wasn’t alone. Not when she had him. He’d do whatever it would take to help her through the difficult time. Thistle’s warning echoed in his ears. Being Santa and a new set of snow tires would help. Not hurt.
Then something else the Scotsman said about being given a lot in his life rang out. It was true. It also reminded him of something his father used to say. To those who are given good fortune, it is their duty to give to others... without expecting anything in return.
He wouldn’t think about what he wanted from Rachel, only what he wanted to give to her.
Chapter 6
Rachel’s life plan did not include returning to the job she’d had as a high school student trying to save for college. After another long day serving up plates of bangers and mash, cleaning up spills, and trying to make sure all the tables didn’t wobble on the old, uneven wooden floor of the Bea & Thistle, she clocked out.
Over the years, the owners, Bea and Thistle McCarthy, became like family so they’d welcomed her back. Upon her return, because Bea knew how difficult it was to talk about the situation or because she reasoned Rachel would share when she was ready, Bea didn’t ask any questions about what had happened with her and Ryan. Thistle, on the other hand, demanded details, particularly why there wasn’t a ring on her finger or why her last name wasn’t Kelly.
It was a long story that she’d shared late one night after closing. She’d cried, agonized, and then locked her lips up tight and didn’t tell any of the other well-meaning but nosy locals about what had brought her back to town.
The truth was there had been a ring on her finger, but that was a chapter of her life she wanted to forget about. If she had an eraser, she’d have wiped it from the books.
Instead, she had a few good friends at the Honey Bea and Thistle, a job, and at least for a little longer, a house.
What was missing was her car. Rather, her mother’s rusty SUV that she’d been driving since Rachel was in diapers. A truck was parked out on the road, but there was no sign of her vehicle.
Thistle locked up.
Bea crunched through the snow. “Goodnight. See you tomorrow, dear.”
They lived in the village and walked home hand in hand every night. She wanted something as sweet and true as they had someday. Once upon a time, she’d thought she’d had it.
“Wait. My car is gone.” Rachel scanned the otherwise empty lot as if the vehicle would appear.
Thistle, an imposing man, rushed over. “In all these years we’ve never had a theft.”
The men in the mountains were rugged, but any of them would be a fool to cross Thistle even though she knew he was a teddy bear inside.
Bea walked over to them, barely able to conceal a smirk.
“What do you know of this?” Thistle asked.
Bea shrugged. “This little elf may have helped Santa out.”
Thistle shot her a suspicious look.
Just then a pair of headlights beamed through the night and pulled into the lot.
Without thinking, Rachel rushed to the driver’s side of her mother’s car. A hulking figure filled the seat. Ryan’s green eyes twinkled as he opened the door.
“What is going on?” she demanded.
Ryan smirked and dangled the keys in front of her.
Rachel snatched them then folded her arms in front of her chest. “You have a truck. What do you need with this old beater?”
“And you complained when I got you a vacuum for your birthday one year,” Thistle said to Bea. Then he jutted his chin at Ryan. “Not at all romantic, but practical. I’ll give you that.”
Rachel opened her arms wide. She was missing something. “What is going on?”
Bea wrung her hands. “Dear, it’s understandable that you haven’t had a chance to put on snow tires, but you know as well as I do what could happen on these roads in winter weather.”
“That’s why we walk to and from the restaurant.” Thistle grunted and went on to explain how Bea wasn’t the best driver in winter conditions and had once careened into a ditch.
The two started bickering about whose job it was to change the regular tires to studded ones then who had to pay to get the dents fixed after the wreck.
Ryan got out. “I also had the oil changed and a safety inspection performed. They changed a belt, vacuum hose, air filter, and a few other things.” He clapped his hand on the hood. “Should be as good as new.”
“You know it’s as old as me, right?”
“Good year by my reckoning.”
She huffed. “I don’t need your help, Ryan Kelly.”
“I thought we were friends. Friends do stuff like this.”
He had her there. Her mother would’ve scolded her for forgetting her manners. “Well, thank you. What do I owe you?” Rachel dug in her purse for her wallet. She’d done well on tips that day. She knew the car needed a tune-up and had purposefully neglected to change the tires. Even though it was dangerous driving the SUV around like that, she needed to save every pen
ny she could spare. Her mother’s treatments were costly and not covered by insurance.
Ryan held up his hands, halting her. “You don’t owe me anything, Rachel.”
“But it must’ve cost at least—” She was split inside, right down the middle.
“The guys did me a favor.”
“They did you a favor for doing me a favor?” she asked.
“Something like that.” Ryan sauntered through the parking lot to the road where he’d parked his truck.
Rachel watched him go, torn between wanting to pay him back and accepting his generosity. As he got into the truck, he waved, then waited until she was safely on the road before driving away.
Before heading home, she dropped by the hospital to visit her mom. With Ryan Kelly back in her life, she really needed her mother, but that wasn’t possible because her mother needed her to be strong, focused, and reliable.
Inside the small, square room with a privacy curtain, she carefully brushed her mother’s thinning hair, changed her fuzzy socks, and read her a few passages from the Bible.
Sheila had once been a bright, vivacious woman, full of strength and life. She was the kind of person to rearrange the living room furniture by herself, shovel the front walk and the elderly neighbor’s steps, and go horseback riding every Saturday with her group of friends she called the CowGals.
Lying in the hospital bed, frail and ashen, Rachel grasped how fragile life was. She cursed herself for sassing her mom over the years, for giving her a hard time about curfew, or doing anything that might have upset her. If she could get all that time back and instead help with the laundry or sit out on the back deck and watch the sunset instead of running off with her friends or Ryan, she would.
She told her mother all about her day, leaving out any mention of Ryan. All her mother knew on the subject was that five years previous, Ryan had suffered a loss of his own. Instead of reaching out, he’d turned away. Rather, ran away.
On that dreadful winter afternoon, Rachel had been in the kitchen with Ryan and a couple of his brothers. They were having a Sunny Delight drinking contest to see who could chug the most the quickest. She was laughing and glad it wasn’t maple syrup, which they’d also done once. Orange juice was probably safer.
Mr. Kelly came in, looking grave. No, broken. In fact, she wasn’t sure what he looked like because she’d never seen such pain in someone’s expression before. He explained what had happened to Mrs. Kelly.
Tears had flooded Rachel’s eyes. As she turned to comfort Ryan, he was a blur, rushing out the door. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him again until they met on the trail when it had started snowing just the day before. Her mind quickly flashed forward through the short time they’d spent together, how he offered to be Santa, and tuned up her car.
“I hope you’re not sitting over there worrying about me, Rachel.” Her mom’s thin voice floated to her through the memories.
She shook her head.
Sheila opened her eyes and studied her daughter. The corner of her lip lifted. “Is this about Ryan Kelly’s return?”
Color lifted onto Rachel’s cheeks. “What do you mean?” she stammered.
Sheila clicked her tongue. “I haven’t seen that look on your face in a long time.”
“What look. I don’t have a look.” Rachel tucked her chin, feigning innocence. For a moment Rachel caught a glimpse of the energetic woman she’d always known her mother to be, but it just as quickly disappeared.
Still, Sheila grinned. “I’d like to have something wise to say, but Ryan Kelly is a lucky man, charmed in fact.”
“I’d say he’s the opposite. He—”
“I’d thought long and hard about what I’d say to him if he came knocking on our door. But I suppose he’s suffered enough.” Sheila closed her eyes.
“Mom, do you want me to call the nurse? You’re not making sense.”
Sheila sat up straight. “Young lady, I’m sick, not dumb. If after all this time and everything that’s happened you still have feelings for him, it’s okay to admit it.”
Rachel crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I do not have feelings for Ryan Kelly.” The tingles and warmth covering her skin suggested otherwise, but for the moment, her mind was going to win the battle.
“All the same. When you find love, hang onto it.” Her mother leaned back on the pillow.
The way she felt had nothing to do with love. Sure, it was confusing, but it wasn’t love.
* * *
After saying goodnight to her mom and the nurses, Rachel went home to the dark, lonely house on Mulberry Street.
Upstairs, she plunked down on her bed and sat for a moment, revisiting the day. She wiped a tear away and through her misty eyes, a poster on her wall came into focus. It was from Pooh Bear, her favorite when she was a little girl. In a little cartoon bubble, Piglet asked Pooh how to spell the word love. Pooh explained that it wasn’t something that you spelled, but felt inside.
Rachel’s hands brushed over her arms as though she could wipe away what her body felt. “It’s just hormones,” she muttered.
She freshened up in the bathroom and then went downstairs. It was as though Ryan Kelly’s smoldering gaze followed her around the house. It made Rachel equal parts mad and all gooey inside—much like the caramel and chocolate-covered shortbread she’d have ordinarily been making with her mother around Christmastime. They had a twelve cookies of Christmas tradition. Rachel decided to bake them anyway and would give them to the nurses in the critical care unit.
As she mixed the ingredients, she forced away the thoughts of Ryan. Her phone rang, but it was a friend from Miami. She couldn’t deal with making small talk and catching up right then and let it go to voicemail.
When her mother had called, several months previous, mentioning she hadn’t been feeling well, Rachel didn’t think much of it. Then after waking her mom up from a series of naps—Sheila Moore was energetic and not a napper—she finally got her to reveal the cancer diagnosis. Rachel dropped to her knees right then and said a prayer. Every time she thought about her mother’s disease, she said a prayer.
After wiping the cookie dough off of her fingers, she pressed her hands together to pray.
Sudden knocking on the door startled her.
As she went to the front to answer, hope flared inside at the possibility it was Ryan. A gust of cold air chilled her as she opened the door. Like a candle flickering in a breeze, the hope was snuffed out.
Tobias Flick, her cheating ex, edged his way in.
“What are you doing here?” Rachel’s mouth was agape.
“I came to see you. I’ve been so worried. You just left and—” Tobias took off his hat, revealing his sparse head of hair.
“I left after I found you with Mia Landry.” Rachel folded her hands in front of her chest. “I left because you cheated on me with your coworker. If you recall, we were going to get married.” Rachel had left that mess of a mistake behind her when she’d departed after she’d learned her mother was sick.
“Well, about that. Do you have the ring?” Tobias asked.
Rachel’s mouth dropped open again. Where she’d once thought Tobias was good looking, since his betrayal, all she saw in his dark eyes, and even darker heart, was someone despicable. She’d seen plenty of movies where a jilted fiancé threw the engagement ring in the jerk’s face. After he’d cheated, she’d thrown the ring in a drawer. When she was packing up to move from Miami, and knowing she’d need some additional funds, she’d sold it.
Just as she was about to tell him as much, another knock came from the other side of the door. Where only moments before she’d hoped it was Ryan, now she begged for it not to be. She opened the door partway.
Sure enough, it was the tall, handsome football player. He held out a plate of cookies and started to edge his way inside. “It’s twelve days of Christmas cookies. Well, unfortunately, five of them fell in the snow on the way over. Well, more like they slid into the slush. They got soggy pretty fas
t so the five-second rule didn’t apply. I’m sorry. Anyway, I thought you might like them and wanted to check on the kittens—” Ryan cut himself off mid-ramble. His eyes locked on something over her head. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”
“Oh. Um,” she stammered. “Ryan Kelly, this is Tobias Flick.”
Where Ryan was a true alpha male in every sense, Tobias was more like a little dog with a big yap. It was an instant clash of testosterone as the pair sized each other up.
Ryan extended his hand because he was taught manners. Rachel worried he’d crush Tobias’s thin fingers.
“Tobias Flick. You can call me Flick. What was your name again?”
Rachel’s ex knew full well who the manly man standing on her stoop was because he’d once found a photo of them together and then proceeded to cheer like a lunatic anytime a member of the Miami Riptide scored against the Boston Bruisers. He also had the magazine with Ryan on the cover, though she’d confiscated it.
“I’m Ryan, Ryan Kelly,” he said.
Tobias grinned and waved his hand. “I know who you are.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Is that so?”
“Golden god on the football field. But I hear the Riptide might have one on you this season.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Ryan snorted.
“That is if you get back on the field.”
Ryan ignored Tobias and turned to Rachel as though realizing Tobias’s angle was to declare his dominance and win her hand. Little did he know it was just about the ring, and likely the money he’d get if he sold it. Tobias was all about the money.
Ryan wore his cockiest grin. “You hear that? He says I’m a golden god on the football field.”
“The sports announcers called you that,” she corrected.
“All the same. I like the sound of it.” He flicked the collar on his jacket then laughed with false bravado.
Tobias went on to question a few of Ryan’s plays as though the Riptide fan had been studying them.