Stepping up to the mic, Paisley remembered why she liked to be at the soundboard – no one could see you from there. With over a hundred pairs of eyes boring into her, she felt the need to clear her throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the annual Christmas Ball.”
Pause for polite clapping. Continue.
“We have a special Christmas treat planned for you. Some of you may recognize the faces up on stage tonight. Please welcome Snow Valley’s very own Iron Stix.” Paisley clapped as she backed away from the mic and the band took their places.
“Merry Christmas, Snow Valley,” Amber cooed into the mic. “We are the Iron Stix and we’re going to start off the night with some Jingle Bell Rock.”
Bill led off and the others joined in two measures later. Paisley liked the tinny sound she’d added to his guitar, but decided to tone it down a bit and made her way to the soundboard.
Once there, it was difficult to tear herself away until the sight of the Adams twins snickering near the punch bowl had her striding across the dance floor. They turned tail and ran when they saw her coming and Paisley motioned to Myranda to keep an eye on them.
When Jingle Bell Rock ended, the band sang Run, Run, Rudolf, and then Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. People clogged the dance floor.
Paisley noticed April and Wade lost in being together. Big surprise. Everyone knew it would happen one day. The pastor in training, James, spun Jessica across the floor. She was grace personified and Paisley felt the chime of a Christmas miracle to see her happy again.
Two of Miranda’s sisters had snagged the Adams twins and shuffled their way across the dance floor, their faces beet red and chagrined.
Paisley had to give it to the girls, they knew how to keep the boys occupied.
When the song ended, Paisley had to scramble to adjust things as Clay set aside his bass and took Bill’s guitar.
Amber gave the audience a spotlight smile. “Here’s Clay Jett with Blue Christmas.”
Clay’s voice, as deep as dark chocolate, floated through the speakers and Paisley had to grab the edge of the table as her knees went weak. She closed her eyes.
The gentle notes lifted and fell as Clay caressed them forth.
Clay’s rendition of the Christmas classic told her so much more than the actual words. His longing strummed her heart strings, setting loose a horde of butterflies in her stomach. Paisley’s hand went to her chest where the low notes from the guitar thumped. Two hot tears slid down her face.
Who was she kidding? As much as she loved Snow Valley, it would never be the same after Clay. She’d fallen for him – hard. And there was no chance of recovery.
Her love for Clay, the kind of love that made the whole world look brighter, would taint this town. The cookie party would be boring, the carnival humdrum, and even work, which she usually took great satisfaction in, would be routine. It wasn’t spontaneity she craved, it was Clay. He was the one who swept the monotony out of her days and replaced it with music. Just hearing him sing was enough to make her heart race and his kiss – oh, his kiss! Her lips tingled just thinking about it.
When she opened her eyes, Clay was looking at her. She held his gaze and there was no one and nothing else in the room but her and Clay. The last note hung between them, humming with desire. He didn’t move when he finished and Paisley couldn’t look away. She had so much to tell him and couldn’t find the words.
Amber sashayed onto the stage and took the mic. “Wasn’t he great?!” Thunderous applause sounded and Paisley’s eyes swept the room. The Rock & Roll Christmas Ball was the best one they’d ever had.
Clay took the guitar off of his shoulder and handed it to Bill who strummed the first lines of Merry Christmas Baby.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Clay had Paisley in his arms before Bill finished the introduction.
“I’ll go,” she whispered as she reached up to brush his hair off his forehead. “I just want to be with you, I don’t care where.”
Clay used his thumbs to wipe away the tears and continued to cradle her face in his hands. “You didn’t make another bet with Amber, did you?”
Paisley laughed through her tears. “No, this is me. I want to go with you.”
Clay smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Paisley gripped his arms. “But you’re studio? You can’t give that up.”
Clay tipped his head. “Who said I would have to give up the studio?”
Being this close to Clay made it hard for Paisley to think. She couldn’t put two and two together. “I don’t understand.”
“My studio will be here.”
“What?”
“I’m buying my dad’s old barn and remodeling. Didn’t we go over that?”
Paisley thought back to last week. “I didn’t read the building information.” She could have kicked herself. “All this time I thought you planned to leave after Christmas.”
Clay chuckled and Paisley pressed her hand to his shirt to feel the gentle rumble.
Clay rested his forehead against hers. “Snow Valley is my home. I took off trying to find a dream and all along it was here with sugar cookies, the Iron Stix, and this gorgeous girl I couldn’t forget. Once I saw you at the tree lighting, I knew I’d never be able to leave again.”
“You could have clued me in.” Paisley stepped deeper into his embrace.
“Technically – I did,” he said as he leaned closer. His breath whispered across her lips and Paisley closed her eyes. Like his song had only moments before, his kiss told her so much more than his words. There was longing there, and joy, pure joy that lifted her to her tip toes.
Paisley worked her fingers into Clay’s hair and kissed him back, letting go of all her worries and getting lost in the moment. This kiss was one she wanted to remember forever, This, was magic.
Love in Light and Shadow
A Snow Valley Romance
Mercedes O'Shay has sworn off gorgeous men because they have a tendency to break her heart. When she meets her new neighbor, Chet Bauer, she immediately puts him in the Do Not Date category based on his well-defined muscles and stunning blue eyes. But the more Mercedes learns about the cowboy who reads classics and forges iron, the more she realizes the heart doesn't see in black and white; it sees light and shadows.
Chapter 1
“Mercedes June O’Shay, what in the name of discount fashion are you doing in those?”
Mercy looked down at the denim overalls and then back up to her sister. “I like them, Cat. They’re roomy.” She wiggled her behind. With the extra fabric in the pants, her movement didn’t have the impact she was hoping for.
Cat frowned. “They scream ‘single woman and staying that way.’”
That’s the plan. Mercy frowned at her reflection in the changing room’s gilded mirror. They hadn’t come in looking for overalls, but when Mercy found them on the shelf, she took it as a sign. “I thought they said ‘country girl.’”
Cat pressed her fingers between her eyes. Mercy could hear her counting to ten under her breath, as if dealing with Mercy’s determination to buy a new pair of pants were the most taxing moment in her day.
As if. Mercy stuck out her tongue and disappeared into the changing room. “I am buying the overalls,” she called over the door.
“I will help you buy all the country clothes you want; I’ll even get you a cowboy hat—or cowgirl hat—or whatever the PC term is—as long as you never wear those overalls in public. I don’t want all of Snow Valley thinking we’re some kind of townie-turned-hick chicks.”
Mercy wiggled her fingers over the top of the door. “We are townies.”
“No, we’re reformed city slickers. There’s a difference.”
“Yee-haw!” Mercy called, not caring who heard.
“You’re so embarrassing,” said Cat.
Back in her regular clothes, Mercy opened the door to find Cat sitting on the bench on the opposite wall, her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee.
Mercy sat next to her and hugged the overalls close. They were perfect for painting—be it a house or a canvas—because they gave her the freedom to move. She needed that freedom in more ways than one, which was part of the reason why she and Cat had decided to take their grandpa up on his offer to restore the old farmhouse out west in exchange for free rent. If all went well, she’d paint enough to have a solid portfolio within a year, and Cat would finally finish that novel she was always pecking at.
Mercy nudged Cat. “Why so glum?”
“I’m not glum, I’m reflective.”
Cat and words! “What are you reflecting on?”
“You’re so energized about this whole thing and I’m … not.” Cat put her hand on Mercy’s arm. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m looking forward to writing and not having to worry about bills for a year. But I’m not into this country thing like you are. Is that a bad sign?”
Mercy rolled her eyes. “No analyzing! This is our time, our chance to chase our dreams. We’re going to drive off into the Montana sunset and recreate ourselves. No more Mercedes of the middle cubicle and Grammar Officer Catrina—we are do-it-yourself farm girls.”
Cat pressed her lips together. “You’re right. Adios, Officer Catrina.”
Mercy linked her arm with Cat. “Hello, wheat-grinding, bread-making, garden-planting Catrina.”
Cat’s hands flew to her chest. “I have to plant a garden?” she asked, a look of horror on her face.
Mercy laughed as she pulled her purse strap back up on her shoulder. “No, but you will have to make bread.”
Cat grinned. “After I grind the wheat.”
Mercy nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”
“I may be getting it, but I am still not wearing overalls.” Cat shoved Mercy’s shoulder.
“Fine, you can herd the chickens.”
Catrina raised both her immaculately sculpted eyebrows. “I don’t think you herd chickens.”
“Tend?” tried Mercy.
“Um, that’s children.”
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it’s tend.” Mercy made a mental note to scan one of the many blogs she followed on country life for the proper term on chicken care. She let out a small squeal. “We have a gate, and a fence, and a pasture, and a barn that’s perfect for two horses, and a flock of chickens. And, yes, it is a flock. A brood if they’re all girls, but I want a rooster to wake me up every morning. Besides, roosters have the prettiest tail feathers.”
“Hello?” Catrina waved her hand in front of Mercy’s face. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re already in Montana.”
“Your fault. You mentioned chickens.” Mercy folded the overalls over her arm and stood up. “All that matters is that we know what we want and we go for it.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that it’s a billion miles away from Jeremey,” muttered Catrina.
“Yeah, that’s a perk.” Mercy nudged Catrina.
“I really hate that guy for messing you up.”
Mercy jerked back. “He didn’t mess me up. He cheated on me.”
“If he’d been one of the good guys, he would have just broken your heart instead of shattering it.”
Mercy squared her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m done crying and I’m done working in the same office with a man who thought I wasn’t good enough.” She offered her hand to help Catrina off the seat. “It’s time to move on and I’m moving to Montana.”
“The land of little fashion,” quipped Catrina.
“The land of the two-inch steak,” Mercy shot back. She was already picturing the hearty meals, fresh-baked bread slathered in butter and local honey, and having all the time in the world to watch Food Network.
“A land void of designer gelato vendors.”
Mercy cringed. Oh, how she adored Tony’s special blend. “A land void of ex-fiancés.”
“The land of limited good-looking men.”
“Um, I think that should be my line.” Mercy placed her overalls on the counter and waved to a sales girl who was busy stuffing a woman into a dinner dress. It wasn’t going to happen, but she understood the girl needed to make a valiant effort for her customer.
Catrina coughed. “How is a lack of bachelors a good thing?”
“I’m swearing off hot guys.”
Catrina snorted.
“No, really. Every guy I’ve ever dated has been hot-off-the-bench-press hot, and I’m tired of being lied to and cheated on and having to watch my date like a hawk so the vultures don’t move in. From here on out, I’m only dating ...” She screwed up her face. “Well, not ugly guys, but I don’t want the guys that women slather themselves all over.”
“I don’t think you’ll have much to worry about. Have you seen the population stats on Snow Valley? It’s not like the nightlife is hopping.” Cat sighed. “I wish I had your confidence in life.”
Mercy shrugged and tossed out her usual comeback when Cat said things like that. “It’s because I’m the older sister.” Sure, she looked confident, she sounded confident, but there was that voice in the back of her head that told her she was crazy for leaving behind everything she’d ever known to move to a place so remote a GPS couldn’t find it.
The salesgirl hurried over and rang up Mercy’s purchase.
Mercy slung the store bag over her arm. No sense bringing the rainclouds. “Speaking of designer gelato …”
Catrina’s eyes lit up. “Tony, here we come.”
Chapter 2
Chet leaned forward in the driver’s seat, just like he always did, as he came around the bend to his parents’ ranch—his ranch, now. He had the debt to prove it.
The Sweet Meadows Cattle Ranch was outside Snow Valley city limits. If you took the road leading toward the mountains, veered left at the Y, and then crested the hill, you were on the right path. Just around the bend, his land would open up like the pages of his favorite book.
As the youngest of six children, he was the last to get a chunk of his parents’ acreage. Because he’d overextended himself, he’d had to work as the janitor at the elementary school to make ends meet over the winter.
In the passenger seat, his fifteen-year-old nephew, Aiden, worked furiously to get in his final text before losing service.
Chet considered the lack of cell service a perk. Farther up the mountain, like at Wade’s place, they could get a signal. Down in the valley, they used old-fashioned walkie-talkies to communicate on the ranch, and he reached down to flip on the CB radio tuned to his “home station.” All he got for his trouble was static. No news was good news.
As they began their descent, Aiden dropped his phone into his lap with a sigh.
Chet suppressed a chuckle. “She’ll still be there tomorrow.”
Aiden waved him off. “No biggie.”
“What? It’s Amy, right?”
“Yeah.” Aiden ducked his head.
“She giving you grief?” As Aiden’s favorite uncle, Chet was often his confidant. It helped that Chet was still single—gave him cred with the teens in the family. Besides Aiden, he had three other nephews who helped on the ranch. With Aiden’s mom busy preparing for their summer kickoff picnic, Chet had offered to pick Aiden up from football practice while he was in town in exchange for help with the evening chores.
“Naw, I’m just worn out. Coach was all over us today.” Aiden leaned forward and cursed.
“Watch it,” Chet warned.
“Sorry. Aren’t those your steers?”
Chet followed Aiden’s gaze and saw half a dozen dark spots wandering through the neighbor’s yard. Chet hit the steering wheel in frustration. He’d have to check the fence line.
“When’s the new owner supposed to be here?” Chet asked. The neighboring home had been up for sale for years and was just taken off the market for an extreme makeover.
“Mom said Cindy told her that the agent said they were leaving Boston Tuesday morning.”
Chet swallowed his curse. “Old Lady Boston could be here any min
ute.”
Aiden snickered at the nickname Chet used when it was just him and the boys. From what he’d heard of the newcomer, born and raised in the big city, she wouldn’t last the summer. He gave her a month of seclusion up here in the hills before she packed her carpetbags and hightailed it out of town.
The cows spread across the front yard like a poorly designed obstacle course. They loved the dandelions and overgrown grass. Pulling over as far as he dared, he cut the engine and pulled on his work gloves. Most of the herd was still on the right side of the fence. The hole had to be through the area just to the side of the house. Aiden handed him a pair of pliers and his emergency roll of wire from the glove box. He got out of the car, tucked the pliers in his back pocket, and made his way down his neighbor’s side of the fence.
Tromping through weeds, Chet followed the cow tracks until they narrowed. He shook his head. Like an arrow pointing to disaster, the thin line of hoof prints showed him just where the cattle had broken through. With a few minutes of maneuvering, he managed to get his truck into position on one side of the gap, and Aiden began pushing cows down the fence line. Cows were easy to understand. They followed a fence until they found an opening and then they turned. It didn’t matter if it was into the next field, the neighbor’s yard, or out into wolf country; cattle turned when the fence line stopped. It wasn’t smart, but it was predictable.
Before they were done, a small moving truck, followed by a green car that looked like an egg carton, bounced into the driveway. The driver of the truck honked and waved at him, sending the cattle in all directions. Chet clenched his jaw and exchanged a look with Aiden.
Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set Page 11
