Her Football Star Billionaire Groom (Bachelor Second Chance Cowboy Book 2)

by Ellie Hall

  Then her phone rang. She hoped it wasn’t Tobias. She’d received at least a dozen messages from him and hadn’t looked at a single one.

  As the phone rang again, she glanced at it. The caller ID displayed her realtor’s name. “I have to answer this.”

  “No worries. I have a meeting for P.U.M.P.E.D to review everything from last night. I’ll see you later.” He dusted a kiss on her cheek and whisked out the door.

  Rachel answered the phone and learned that there was a buyer for the house. It had been on the market for less than a week. Her heart leaped with joy because she could afford the medical treatments without going deeper into debt, but it just as quickly sank because selling the house meant things were truly changing.

  “The buyer wants a quick, private sale, and they’re paying cash. But don’t worry about a thing. I’ll handle it all on my end, and we’ll have this done for you in no time.”

  The agent knew all about Rachel’s personal situation. After thanking her profusely and with an equal amount of relief and regret, she rushed to visit her mother. The socks would have to wait.

  Sheila was sleeping so Rachel padded in and took her usual chair. With every rise and fall of her mother’s chest, she counted her blessings. She prayed and when her mom still hadn’t woken up, she wished she’d brought the knitting project along. As much as she wanted to spend time with Ryan, she went to her mother’s bedside during the two sets of visiting hours offered each day. There were only a few times she’d missed them and that was so she could cover shifts at the Honey Bea and Thistle because money was so tight. Between her school loans and her work on her doctorate, there wasn’t much to spare to begin with.

  Rachel reached for her mother’s hand, wishing she’d never left home or pursued her degree. Tears brimmed salty, blurring her vision and she sniffled.

  Her mother’s eyes blinked open. “Rachel, I was just thinking about you.” Her voice was thin.

  “Do you mean you were dreaming?”

  “You know what I have been dreaming about? A white Christmas.” She smiled weakly then sang a few lines of the Christmas carol.

  “I think you’re in luck. We’ve had a lot of snow already. Unless it melts, your wishes will be answered.”

  “I said I was dreaming of a white Christmas,” her mother corrected. “But do you know what I’ve been wishing for?”

  “Yes, Mom. I do,” Rachel answered. It was the same thing she wished for, prayed about, and silently begged to have happen. The doctor said the treatments had a fifty-fifty chance so wishes, prayer, and luck were about all they had to go on.

  “No, sweetie. You don’t. I’ve been wishing for a Christmas tree in the living room, trimmed and lit up.”

  Rachel leaned back in the chair. “Well, you’re in luck again.” She pulled out her phone and showed her mother the photos of the tree. As her finger swiped, she tried to hurry past the ones with her and Ryan because she didn’t want to upset her mom.

  With surprising strength, her mother took hold of the phone. Her eyes widened. “Is that Ryan Kelly?”

  Rachel swallowed, unsure how her mother was going to react.

  Sheila’s eyes crinkled in the corners and filled with liquid.

  “Please, don’t be upset. I can explain.”

  “Rachel, do you know what I’ve been praying for?”

  She nodded. Of course, she knew.

  Then her mother shook her head. “I’m not sure you do. I’ve been praying to see that smile of yours again.” She studied the photo then pressed the phone to her heart. This makes me the happiest woman alive.”

  “To see me smile?”

  “You’d always been my ray of sunshine, Rachel, but after I told you everything about the illness and you rushed home, you’ve been sad, sullen...frowny.”

  The corners of Rachel’s lips lifted despite herself. “Frowny?”

  “It looks like that boy, no, that man, drew the best out of you after all.”

  “Well, don’t get your hopes up. It’ll take a Christmas miracle to get us back together.”

  Just then a loud, “Ho, ho, ho,” sounded from the hall. Santa poked his head in the room. “Did someone say something about a Christmas miracle?”

  Chapter 11

  It was true that Ryan had a meeting with those involved in the P.U.M.P.E.D charity to review the fundraising efforts from the previous evening and to determine if they’d received enough donations to move forward without assistance from the Kelly Foundation. But he also had to get ahold of a Santa Claus costume that fit his broad frame, which took some searching on short notice.

  Several hours later and dressed in the furry red suit and wearing a fake white beard, Ryan popped on the hat with a white pompom on the end. Taking a look in the reflection of the window separating the nurse’s station and hall from the patient rooms, he was put in a much jollier mood than he had been when he’d left the meeting. They’d raised enough funds to maintain the current programs, but not enough to expand to new cities as he’d promised. It didn’t help that when Rachel had walked into the gala, he’d added Miami as a last-minute addition without prior discussion. But he’d figure out a solution after he went to cheer up a floor full of people in critical care.

  Ryan carried a sack over his shoulder and had a box of cookies in his other hand as he paraded into the room. “Ho, ho, ho,” he called again, greeting Rachel and Mrs. Moore, using his best Santa voice. “I checked my list and the both of you have been very good girls this year.”

  “I thought Mr. Robbins, I mean Santa, couldn’t make it. Who do we have here?” Mrs. Moore asked from her bed. Then her eyes widened with recognition. People often said he had his mother’s eyes, big, bright, and green. Sheila and Susan had been friends so it was no surprise that she’d identify him, even when wearing the costume.

  However, if he didn’t know it was Rachel’s mom, he wouldn’t have recognized her. She had lost a significant amount of weight and the usual color in her cheeks was ashen. But her eyes twinkled when she met his. He wondered if Rachel had told her about their chance encounter on the trail and everything that had followed.

  “Santa needs all the helpers he can get, especially this time of year.” That was the best answer he could come up with on the spot about Mr. Robbins’ absence. “I brought cookies baked by Mrs. Claus.”

  After glancing at the box, Rachel lifted and lowered her eyebrows. “I didn’t know Mrs. Claus worked at Love from the Oven,” she said, referencing the bakery in town—the same one Ryan had cater the cookies at the gala. She tapped the label on the box with her finger then took the box from his hands, lifted the flap, and inhaled deeply.

  “Last time Santa tried bringing you cookies, they fell on the ground.” He left out the part about how he’d also happened upon her ex-boyfriend paying a surprise visit.

  “Smart of Santa to put them in a box this time, but typically people leave cookies for Santa, not the other way around.”

  Ryan laughed off Rachel’s comment about his cookie delivery fail and opened the sack. “Oh, what’s this? I think I have a gift for someone special in this room.”

  “You being here is gift enough.” Mrs. Moore glanced between Santa and her daughter.

  Ryan passed Mrs. Moore a pair of hand-knit fuzzy socks. “Courtesy of the elves from the North Pole.” He winked at Rachel.

  She opened and closed her mouth, but didn’t say anything.

  “They’re perfect,” said Mrs. Moore.

  “I’m glad you think so. I need your help though. Mrs. Claus found three kittens and can’t figure out what to name them.” He went on to describe each of the black and white, furry kitties.

  Mrs. Moore thought about it a moment. “How about you name them Hope, Faith, and Charity.”

  Rachel reached out to give her mom a hug. “Those are perfect.”

  The three chatted for a few minutes before Ryan went to the other rooms and delivered the socks. He’d stopped by the Honey Bea and Thistle before the hospital. Bea
was all too pleased to answer his questions about where to get handknit socks; Thistle ceded his reluctance in a different, but slightly more important endeavor.

  When Ryan was done bringing presents and Christmas cheer to the people on the floor, he found Rachel in the hall sharing the cookies with the nurses. “Where did you get all those socks anyway?” she asked.

  “Bea told me about a gift shop in town that had hand-knit items. I got lucky.”

  “I think everyone here today got lucky. You have no idea the kind of joy this brings them. We’ll be hearing about it for days,” the nurse said with a smile.

  “Then my job is done,” Ryan said. “And you have all year to finish up those socks to donate next year.” He gently elbowed Rachel.

  She gave a half smile. “Actually, Mom was wondering if Santa wouldn’t mind popping back in the room for a few minutes to finish catching up. It’s been a while since she’s had a visit from old St. Nick.”

  “Yes, a lot has gone on in the North Pole since I last saw her.” Ryan used his best Santa voice to convince the nurse it was a good idea as he glanced at the sign on the wall indicating visiting hours were over.

  “We can make an exception for Santa as long as you keep the ho-ho-hos to a minimum. Official visiting hours are over and our patients need to get some rest.” The nurse gave him a pointed look, closed a file, and strode down the hall.

  Back in the room, Mrs. Moore’s stocking feet poked out from the end of the bedsheets with the new knit socks. “Santa, I think you’ve made this Christmas very special.”

  “Considering it’s not even Christmas yet, I think I still have a little work to do.” He glanced through the window dividing the room from the hall where Rachel chatted with another nurse.

  “Do you mean to prove to Rachel that you’re worthy of her love?”

  He opened and closed his mouth, surprised at her candor. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

  “Life is too short and precious not to speak plainly. That said, you hurt her bad, Ryan. But since you’ve both been back, I haven’t seen her as happy as she is with you. I can’t pretend to know why you left when you did, but I imagine you were going through a tough time after losing your mother. I hope you’re sorry and I hope you make it right. My daughter needs you right now.”

  “Of course.” Ryan grasped at his thoughts, desperate to reassure her. Instead, he sat and listened as she continued.

  “I know my daughter. Her heart is strong and she’ll recover from you leaving so suddenly.” Sadness mixed with determination filled her eyes. “Maybe she already has even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “How about you?” The bluntness of his question about whether she’d recover took him by surprise that time. Like she’d said, life was short and precious. He’d made enough mistakes and missed enough of the lives of the people he loved to know that.

  “Well, I need a Christmas miracle.” Mrs. Moore folded her hands in her lap.

  “I’ll have the elves work on it,” Ryan said.

  “You saved the caramel for the shortbread so I figure you might have some influence over things.”

  Ryan laughed. “Rachel told you about that?”

  “I’m not sure she spared me a single detail while you were out there delivering socks.” Mrs. Moore smiled. “I made her tell me.”

  Warmth crept along his neck.

  She winked. “Well, maybe she skipped a few things.”

  “Did she happen to tell you about the box that was under the tree at the ranch and the note inside?” Ryan asked.

  Mrs. Moore nodded. “I think if you were to ask her again and ask her properly, she’d—”

  Yet another nurse, different than the one who’d allowed him to stay, entered. With a shrewd look, she shooed him away. “Santa Claus or not, it’s time for Mrs. Moore’s daily check in then she needs to get some sleep.”

  “Merry Christmas, Santa,” Mrs. Moore said.

  “I thought you said it’s not Christmas yet,” Ryan said as he exited.

  “Then I suppose that means I’ll be seeing you again.” She smiled, revealing a glimpse of the once energetic, vibrant woman he’d always known.

  Hope for her healing swelled inside. He wouldn’t be able to get help from the North Pole, but he did know who to pray to, asking for her health to return.

  Rachel sat in the waiting room outside the critical care unit. “How’d it go?”

  “Your mother is a firecracker.” He wiggled his nose, ready to sneeze from the tickly whiskers of the beard.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Ryan, she’s lost everything. Her health, her home—”

  He shrugged. “Hope, Faith, Charity? I wouldn’t be so sure she’s lost everything.”

  “Well, no. Of course not, but—” Rachel blinked away tears.

  “And that’s not all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Santa doesn’t only deliver toys.” He beamed a smile beneath the beard. He’d had to make a call to his financial advisor, but he managed to get his hands on the sum of cash needed on short notice to help her family out.

  “No, I suppose socks and cookies aren’t toys. They were delicious. I love the peppermint snowballs, the gingerbread, and I’m not usually a fan of cookies with walnuts, but that oatmeal raisin I split with nurse Sara was delish.”

  Ryan gripped her upper arm as she continued to ramble about the cookies. “I wanted to do something special for you guys, but it wouldn’t fit in this sack.” He hefted it on his shoulder.

  Her brow furrowed. “Can you give me a hint?”

  “It’s on Mulberry Street.”

  “I already saw that you decorated the outside tree. Thank you. I’ll take a photo when it gets dark and show it to my mom tomorrow.”

  “She’ll love that, but this one is a bit bigger.”

  Her chin tucked back. “That tree is at least fifteen feet tall. The only thing bigger than that is—” Her lips formed a perfect O then her hand shot to her mouth. “What. Did. You. Do, Ryan?”

  “I purchased your house for you so you could afford the medical payments.”

  She gripped her phone and then shook it. “The realtor called and said the buyer wanted a quick sale and would pay in cash. That was you?”

  “I wanted to help.” He couldn’t tell if she was surprised or mad.

  She folded her arms in front of her chest. “I told you I don’t need your help.”

  “But I want to help.”

  “No, you want something in return.”

  He scratched his head. That was not how he’d expected the conversation to go.

  “What do you want, Ryan? she asked.

  He shrugged and then the answer came to him. “It’s what I don’t want. I never want you to feel alone again.”

  Her phone beeped with a text. From between her fingers, Tobias’s name flashed across the screen. “Ugh.” She tapped to open the message and seemed to wilt as she read it. She shook her head and hurried from the room.

  Chapter 12

  Rachel slammed the door to the old SUV. Once securely inside, she scanned the messages on her phone from Tobias. What she’d read while standing in the waiting room with Ryan after receiving the news that he’d bought her house so she could pay for the medical bills made her stomach churn. She wasn’t sure what to believe. Seated in the car, confusion creased her forehead.

  Tobias had been texting non-stop since he’d left Colorado and returned to Miami. He wanted her back, but she knew it had nothing to do with her. Rather, her ex had gotten it in his head that he’d win her away from Ryan. He had some competition complex with the famous football player who clearly thought little of Flick.

  She’d always thought Ryan was Mr. Right. Then he’d left her when things got hard. On the other hand, Tobias was never Mr. Right. Looking back, he was just Mr. Good-Enough or as Ryan had said, Tobias was Mr. Wrong.

  But she didn’t need Mr. Anybody.

  She didn’t need Ryan swooping in an
d paying for her mother’s care. Although it was generous, helpful, and well-meaning she didn’t want to be in his debt. She’d already suffered enough emotionally and couldn’t take on more.

  After hearing about what Tobias said at the gala, she didn’t want him in her life at all. He was horrible, but the content of the message suggested that Ryan was just as bad.

  She heard her name and there was no mistaking the figure dressed in the Santa suit who rushed out of the hospital and toward her car.

  Ryan was the last person she wanted to talk to. She gunned the engine and drove to the town hall, seeking answers.

  The salt crunched under her boots as she walked up the granite steps and entered the building. Rachel followed the faint strains of Christmas carols as she strode into the clerk’s office. Gold garland was strung up along the front of the counter and little stockings hung from it. The scene was organized and peaceful, which was at odds with the way she felt.

  “Hello, Ms. Moore. Congratulations,” Maureen Mathers said brightly. She’d worked for the town forever and always had a little bowl of candy on her desk containing M&Ms. That day they were red and green.

  Rachel stepped back, surprised and confused by her enthusiasm. “I came in because I heard something upsetting and wanted to find out if it’s true.”

  Maureen’s eyebrows pinched together as though that was not what she expected to hear. “I’ll be happy to try to help.”

  Rachel drew a deep breath. “I heard that Ryan Kelly’s father put a stipulation in his will, insisting his sons get married if they want their inheritance.”

  Maureen blanched as she pressed her hand to her chest. “Well, I—” She swallowed. “Even if I knew anything about that, I’m not authorized to discuss it.”

  Just then, Ryan rushed in, panting. “I was afraid you came here. Listen, I simply transferred the house to your name. You don’t have to move. When your mom gets better, she’ll be able to go home and—”

  “Wait, I thought you were here to sign these papers.” Maureen shuffled a few files.