The Holiday Gift

by RaeAnne Thayne

  How many mistakes could one man make in a single evening? Part of him wished he could go back and start the whole stupid week over again and just let his relationship with Faith naturally evolve from friendship to something more.

  How long would that take, though? He had a feeling he could have given her five years—ten—and she would still have the same arguments.

  Despite all his mistakes, he had to hope he hadn’t completely screwed up their friendship for good, that things weren’t completely wrecked between them now.

  As she had a few nights earlier, Aunt Mary was the one who finally answered the doorbell.

  “It’s about time,” she said, planting hands on her hips. “Faith needs a man in the worst way.”

  He blinked at that, his imagination suddenly on fire. “O-kay.”

  Mary looked amused and he guessed she could tell immediately what detour his brain had taken.

  “She needs your grilling skills,” she informed him.

  He told himself that wasn’t disappointment coursing through him. “Grilling skills. Ah. You’re grilling tonight.”

  “We would be, but Faith is having trouble again with that stupid gas grill. I swear that thing has it out for us.”

  He gestured behind him to the elements just beyond the porch. “You do know it’s starting to snow, right?”

  Aunt Mary shrugged. “You hardly notice out there, with the patio heater and that cover Flynn built us for the deck. Steaks sounded like a great idea at the time, better than roast or chicken tonight, but now the grill is being troublesome. Rafe and Hope aren’t back yet from visiting Joey’s mom, and Flynn had to fly out to California to finish a project there. That leaves Celeste, Faith and me. We could really use somebody with a little more testosterone to figure out what we’re doing wrong.”

  “I’m not an expert on gas grills but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  He followed Mary inside, where they were greeted by delectable smells of roasting potatoes and yeasty rolls. No place on earth smelled better than this old ranch house on Sunday evenings.

  “I’ve got to finish the salad. Go on ahead,” Mary said.

  He walked through the kitchen to the door that led to the covered deck. Faith didn’t see him at first; she was too busy swearing and fiddling with the controls of the huge, fancy silver grill Travis had splurged on a few months before his death.

  She was dressed in a fleece jacket, jeans and boots, with her hair loose and curling around her shoulders. His chest ached at the sight of her, like it always did. He wished, more than anything, that he had the right to go up behind her, brush her hair out of the way and kiss the back of that slender neck.

  Little multicolored twinkly Christmas lights covered all the shrubs around the deck and had been draped around the edges of the roof. He didn’t remember seeing Christmas lights back here and wondered if Hope had done it to make the rear of the house look more festive. It did look over The Christmas Ranch, after all.

  Faith wasn’t the biggest fan of Christmas, which he found quite ironic, considering she was part owner of the largest seasonal attraction in these parts.

  She fiddled with the knobs again, then smacked the front of the grill. “Why won’t you light, you stupid thing?”

  “Yelling at it probably won’t help much.”

  She whirled around at his comment and he watched as delectable color soaked her cheeks. “Chase! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!”

  He was aware of a fierce, deep-seated need to have her say those words because she wanted to see him, not because she had a problem for him to solve.

  “Mary said you’re having grill trouble.”

  “The darn thing won’t ignite, no matter what I do. It’s not getting propane, for some reason. I’ve been out here for ten minutes trying to figure it out. It’s a brand-new tank that Flynn got for us a few weeks ago and we haven’t used it since. I checked the propane tank. I tried dropping a match in case it was the ignition. I tried all the knobs about a thousand times. I just think this grill hates me.”

  He found it more than a little amusing that she had learned to drive every piece of complicated farm machinery on the place over the last two years and could round up a hundred head of cattle on her own, with only the dogs for help, but she was intimidated by a barbecue grill.

  “This one can be finicky, that’s for sure.”

  She frowned at the thing. “Travis had to buy the biggest, most expensive grill he could order—forget that the controls on it are more confusing than the space shuttle.”

  She didn’t say disparaging things about her late husband very often. In this case, he had to agree with her. He had loved the guy, but she was absolutely right. Travis Dustin always had to have the best, even when they couldn’t afford it. His poor management and expensive tastes in equipment—and his gross negligence in not leaving her with proper life insurance—had all contributed to the big financial hole he had left his family when he died.

  “I’ll take a look,” he said.

  She stepped aside and he knelt down to peer at the connection. It only took him a moment to figure out why the grill wouldn’t work.

  “Here’s your trouble. Looks like the gas hose isn’t connected tightly. It’s come loose from the tank.”

  He made the necessary adjustment, then stood, turned on the propane and hit the ignition. The grill ignited with a whoosh of instant heat.

  She made a face. “Now I feel like an idiot. I swear I checked that already.”

  “It’s easy to overlook.”

  “I guess my mind must have been on something else.”

  He had to wonder what. Was she remembering that kiss, too? He cast her a sidelong look and found a pink tinge on her cheeks again that might have been a blush—or just as easily might have been from the cold.

  “Thank you for figuring it out,” she said.

  “No problem. You’ll need to let the grill heat up for about ten minutes, then I can come back and take care of the steaks.”

  “Thank you. No matter how well I think I know my way around all the appliances in my kitchen, apparently this finicky grill remains my bugaboo. Or maybe it’s outdoor cookery in general.”

  “I can’t agree with that. I seem to remember some mean Dutch oven meals where you acted as camp cook when Trav and I would combine forces for roundup in the fall.”

  “That seems like a long time ago.”

  “Not that long. I still dream about your peach cobbler.” Usually his dreams involved her kissing him between thick, gooey spoonfuls, but he decided it would probably be wise not to add that part.

  Still, something of his thoughts must have appeared on his face because she seemed to catch her breath and gazed wide-eyed at him in the multicolored glow from the Christmas lights.

  “I didn’t know you liked it that much,” she said after a moment, her voice a little husky. “Dutch oven cooking is easy compared to working this complicated grill. I’ll be happy to make you a peach cobbler this summer, when the fruit is in season.”

  “Sounds delicious,” he answered, his own voice a little more gruff than usual, which he told himself was because of the cold—though right now he was much warmer than he might have expected.

  She swallowed hard and he was almost positive her gaze drifted to his mouth and then quickly away again. He was sure the color on her cheeks intensified, which had to be from more than the cold.

  Was she remembering that kiss, too? He wanted to ask her—or better yet, to step forward and steal another one, but the door from the house opened and Louisa popped her head out.

  “Hey, Chase! Where’s Addie? Didn’t she come with you?”

  He took a subtle step back. “No. She went back to Boise with her mom this afternoon. Didn’t she tell you?”


  Her face fell. “Oh, no! Does that mean she won’t be able to do the show with us? She thought she could! She and I and Olivia were going to sing a song together!”

  “She still wants to. She’ll have to miss the first few rehearsals, but she should be here next week for the actual show. We’ll do our best to get her back here for rehearsal by Thursday. I might have to run into Boise to make it happen.”

  “Isn’t that your day to help out at Jim Laird’s place?”

  Rats. He had forgotten all about that. “Yes. I’ll figure out a way to swing it.”

  “I’ll help,” she said promptly. “I can either run to Boise for you or take your day at Jim’s house. Either way, we will get Addie here.”

  His heart twisted a little that with everything she had to do here at the Star N, she would even consider driving six hours round-trip to pick up his daughter.

  “Thank you, but I think I can manage both. If I take off as soon as I finish feeding my stock and his, I should be able to have Addie back in time for practice. It’s important to her so I’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”

  Both Faith and her daughter gave him matching warm looks that made him forget all about the snow just beyond their little covered patio.

  “Thanks, Chase. You’re the best,” Lou said. Despite the cold, she padded out to the deck in her stocking feet and threw her arms around his waist. He smiled a little and hugged her back, thinking how much he loved both Louisa and her brother. They were great kids, always thinking of others. They were like their mother in that respect.

  “Better head back inside. It’s cold out here and you don’t have shoes or a coat.”

  “I do have to go back in. I have to finish dessert. I made it myself. Aunt Mary hardly helped at all.”

  “I can’t wait,” he assured her.

  She grinned and skipped back into the house, leaving him alone again with Faith. When he turned away from the doorway, he found her watching him with an expression he couldn’t read.

  “What did I say?” he asked.

  “I... Nothing,” she mumbled. “I’ll go get the steaks.”

  She hurried past him before he could press her, leaving him standing alone in the cold.

  Chapter Nine

  Faith couldn’t leave the intimacy of the covered deck quickly enough.

  She felt rattled and unsettled and she hated it. With a deep sense of longing, she remembered dinner just the previous Sunday, when they had laughed and joked and teased like always. He had stayed to watch a movie and she had thrown popcorn into his mouth and teased him about not shaving for a few days.

  There had been none of this tension, this awareness that seemed to hiss and flare between them like that stupid grill coming to life.

  She had wanted him to kiss her. It was all she could seem to think about, that wondrous feeling of being alive, desired.

  Another few moments and she would have been the one to kiss him.

  She forced herself to move away from the door and into the kitchen, where Aunt Mary looked up from the rolls she was pulling apart.

  “Tell me Chase saved the day again.”

  “We’re in business. It was all about the gas connection. I feel stupid I didn’t look there first.”

  “Sometimes it takes an outside set of eyes to identify the problem and find the solution.”

  Could someone outside her particular situation help her figure out how to go back in time and fix what felt so very wrong between her and Chase?

  “Where are the steaks?” she asked her aunt.

  “Over there, by the microwave.”

  “Whoa,” she exclaimed when she spotted them. “That’s a lot of steak for just us.”

  “I took out a few extras in case we had company or so we could use the leftovers for fajitas one day this week. Good thing, because Rafe and Hope said they’re only about fifteen minutes out. I’m sure glad they’ll beat the worst of the snow. I feel a big storm coming on.”

  “The weather forecast said most of the storm will clip us.”

  “Weather forecasts can be wrong. Don’t be surprised if we get hit with heavy winds, too.”

  She had learned not to doubt her great-aunt’s intuition when it came to winter storms. After a lifetime of living in this particular corner of Idaho, Mary could read the weather like some people read stock reports.

  Sure enough, the wind had already picked up a little when she carried the tray of steaks out to the covered deck. Chase stood near the propane heater, frowning as he checked something on his phone.

  “Trouble?” she asked, nodding at the phone.

  “Just Cindy,” he answered, his voice terse.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He made a face as he took the tray from her and used the tongs to transfer the steaks onto the grill.

  “Nothing new,” he said as the air filled with sizzle and scent. “Apparently Addie sulked all the way to Boise about having to go back when she was expecting to stay through the week with me and practice for the show with Olivia and Lou. Of course Cindy blames me. I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, etc. etc.—even though she was the one who changed her mind from her original plan.”

  Faith wanted to smack the woman. Why did she have to be so difficult?

  “Maybe you should petition again for primary custody.”

  He sighed. “She would never agree. I don’t know if that would be the best thing for Addie anyway. Her mom and stepfather have given her a good life in Boise. I just wish she could be closer.”

  She decided not to tell him about her conversation with Addie the previous morning. What a difficult situation for everyone involved. Her heart ached and she wished, more than anything, that she could give him more time with his daughter for Christmas.

  He was such a good man, kind and generous. He deserved to be happy—which was yet another reason she needed to help him find someone like Ella Baker.

  That was what a true friend would do, help him find someone whose heart was whole and undamaged, who could cherish all the wonderful things about him.

  Some of her emotions must have appeared on her features because he gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

  She mustered a smile. “You didn’t. What are friends for, if you can’t complain about your ex once in a while?”

  “I shouldn’t complain about her at all. She’s my child’s mother and overall she takes excellent care of her. She loves her, too. I have to keep reminding myself of that.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to worry about it more tonight. For now, let’s just enjoy dinner. And speaking of which, I can handle the steaks from here, if you want to go back inside. That wind is really picking up.”

  “I was planning on grilling,” she protested. “You should be the one to go inside. I can take over, as long as you’ve got the grill working.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “If you go inside now, I bet you could nab a hot roll from Aunt Mary.”

  “Tempting. But no.” He wiggled the utensil in his hand. “I’ve got the tongs, which gives me all the power.”

  She gave him a mock glare. “Hand them over.”

  “Come get them, if you think you’re worthy.”

  He held them over his head, which was way over her head.

  Despite the cold wind, relief wrapped around her like a warm blanket. He was teasing her, just like normal and for a ridiculous moment, she wanted to weep.

  Perhaps they could find an even footing, return to their easy, dependable friendship.

  “Come on. Give,” she demanded. She stretched on tiptoe but the tongs were still completely out of reach.

  He grinned. “Is that the best you can do?”

  Never one to back down from a challenge, she hopped up and
her fingers managed to brush the tongs. So close! She tried again but she forgot the wooden planks of the deck were a bit slippery with cold and condensation. This time when she came down, one boot slid and she stumbled a little.

  She might have fallen but before she could, his arms instantly came around her, tongs and all.

  They froze that way, with his arms around her and her curves pressed against his hard chest. Their smiles both seemed to freeze and crack apart. Her gaze met his and all the heat and tension she had been carefully shoving down seemed to burst to the surface all over again. His mouth was right there. She only had to stand on tiptoe again and press her lips to his.

  Yearning, wild and sweet, gushed through her and she was aware of the thick churn of her blood, a low flutter in her stomach.

  She hitched in a breath and coiled her muscles to do just that when she heard the creak of the door hinges.

  She froze for half a second, then quickly stepped away an instant before Rafe tromped out to the deck.

  Her brother-in-law paused and gave them a long, considering look, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. He hesitated briefly before he moved farther onto the deck.

  “You people are crazy. Don’t you know December in Idaho isn’t the time to be firing up the grill?”

  Something was definitely fired up out here. The grill was only part of it. Her face felt hot, her skin itchy, and she could only hope she had moved away before Rafe saw anything—not that there had been anything to see.

  “Steaks just don’t taste the same when you try to cook them under the broiler,” Chase said. “Though the purist in me would prefer to be cooking them over hot coals instead of a gas flame.”

  “You ever tried any of that specialty charcoal?” Rafe asked. “When I was stationed out of Hawaii, I tried the Ono coals they use for luaus. Man, that’s some good stuff. Burns hot and gives a nice crisp crust.”

  “I’ll have to try it,” Chase said.

  “I came to see if you needed help but it looks like you don’t need me. You two appear to have things well in hand,” he said.

  Was his phrasing deliberate? Faith wondered, feeling her face heat even more.