Ginger (Marrying Miss Kringle)

by Lucy McConnell

  “Okay?” Sawyer pushed.

  Paisley tightened the mic stand hoping to get it to stay in place this time. “You don’t have anything to worry about; it’s not like any of them would ask me out anyway.”

  “Who wouldn’t ask you out?” asked Bill as he clomped down the stairs. Jeb, Amber, and Clay, followed right behind. Bill had to duck as his feet touched the floor to miss a low-hanging joist. Paisley smiled. When they started the Iron Stix, the guys used to reach up and brush their fingers against the beam for luck. Amber gave Sawyer a kiss hello before snagging a cookie.

  Paisley plugged in Bill’s keyboard, and said, “Sawyer’s worried I’m going to go all Yoko on you guys.”

  Bill winked at her. “I’d ask you out to get your cookies, but since you give them away for free …”

  Paisley’s face flushed at his obvious reference to the old saying: Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. She concentrated on the soundboard while Bill plunked notes to help Amber warm up her voice.

  Jeb leaned into his mic. “Test. Test.” His voice echoed off the cement walls.

  They talked about throwing up padding to absorb some sound, but Paisley suspected they liked the added volume. Playing in the basement was like singing in the shower.

  Jeb pulled away and gave her a thumbs up. “I’d take you out, but Lizzie’s the jealous type.”

  Paisley rolled her eyes. His comment was the equivalent of waiting for pigs to fly. “Yeah, like she’d give you the time of day.”

  Jeb shoved a cookie in his mouth and chased it down with a swig of soda. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

  “You wish.”

  Jeb turned to Sawyer, clearly offended. “She’s like our little sister.”

  Sawyer tapped the cymbal three times. “Can we just play?”

  Paisley waited at the soundboard as Clay plugged in his bass. He hit a few cords and made an adjustment on his amp. A loud squeal echoed off the walls and everyone covered their ears. Paisley ran over and twisted a knob on the black box. The squeal was replaced by grumbling, but no one threw a dirty look at Clay. No one dared. Sawyer tapped on his snare and then twirled his sticks.

  Paisley gave Clay a small smile and lifted her shoulders. He leaned in and she could smell the deep scent of men’s body wash; a scent she’d recently found a new interested in. “You’re more than just cookies,” Clay said quietly, brushing his fingers up her arm.

  The connection happened so fast Paisley wasn’t sure it happened at all, except that her skin tingled where he’d touched her. She made her way back to the soundboard, wondering if Clay had adjusted his amp so she’d have to come over and fix it. She watched Clay out of the corner of her eye for most of practice. He didn’t act like he’d said a word and she decided the zing was their little secret.

  A secret she’d kept to this day.

  Paisley absently rubbed her hand up her arm, wondering if he’d thought of her at all since he left town. Sawyer may have had the authority to warn her off the band when she was fourteen, but she wasn’t fourteen anymore. If Clay was coming home, she would gladly chair the welcoming committee.

  The crowd thinned out as Clay listened to Amber and Sawyer’s engagement and wedding story, asked about Sawyer’s job as an electrician, and met their kids. Clay’s eyes wandered to Paisley now and again, but Amber and Sawyer’s excitement over seeing their long-lost band-mate was hard to ignore for long.

  Peake threw a snowball at his dad. Sawyer gave him a stern look followed by a promise to play later. The kid shrugged and continued packing snow anyway. Paisley admired his perseverance.

  “We sent you an invite to the wedding,” said Amber, her lower lip pouting out.

  Clay shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I wasn’t making much back then.” He held up both hands as if weighing his options. “Food or bus ticket? But, I wished you guys the best. Although, I’m not sure what you did, Amber, to deserve a drummer for a husband,” he said as he shoved Sawyer. “I guess it’s just bad luck.”

  They joked back and forth, but Paisley’s mind was on Clay’s excuse and she wondered what other tough decisions he’d had to make in order to become a success in the music business. Her heart went out to him – alone in a strange city with hardly any money. She would have ached for Snow Valley, especially after getting an invitation to two of her best friends’ wedding.

  Sawyer wasn’t sidetracked by the teasing any more than Paisley was. “Was it really that bad?”

  “Sometimes.” Clay glanced at Paisley and then back to Sawyer. “But things got better. I’m working in production now. I hope to open my own studio soon.”

  “That’s fantastic.” Sawyer smacked him on the back. “We need to get the band together. Bill lives in Boulder, but Jeb took over his dad’s place last year. I’m sure we could set something up. How long are you in town?”

  Paisley caught herself leaning closer, hoping he’d say those magic words, “I’m home.”

  “I’ve got a break between projects; I should be here at least through Christmas.” Clay looked her way again and this time Paisley turned her back.

  Just like she’d thought. They come, they Christmas, they leave. Clay was no different than the rest of the holiday tourists in this town and she had no intention of giving him any more time or thought while he was here.

  “Come on Peake, let’s go build a snowman,” she said, offering her hand.

  She and Peake spent the next fifteen minutes using the snow piled on the sides of the walkway to build the base.

  Amber interrupted their work and informed Peake it was way past his bedtime.

  He looked at Paisley and they both groaned in protest as they made their way to the parking lot.

  Paisley found herself scanning the area for Clay. When she didn’t find him, her heart drooped like a pathetic Christmas bow.

  “Looking for someone?” asked Amber as she struggled to get the stroller through the snow.

  “No.” Paisley knew she answered too fast. She also knew Amber would pick up on her defensiveness, so she added, “I just thought he’d say goodbye. You know, for old times’ sake.”

  “His dad called and needed help getting the cows in. They busted through a fence when they heard the cannon.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess that’s that.” Paisley reached down and grabbed the front of the stroller to help lift it over the curb.

  Amber pressed her lips together as she dug in, her high-heel boots, though totally stylin’, weren’t made for wrestling a stroller through the Montana snowpack. “Sawyer’s trying to set up a reunion of sorts. Wouldn’t that be a kick?”

  “Yep.” Paisley concentrated on traffic. She purposely didn’t ask questions and Amber was too busy gripping the stroller so she didn’t slip to press the topic.

  Between the two of them, they managed to wrangle their way to Amber and Sawyer’s SUV. Sawyer arrived a few minutes later as they strapped Journey into the car seat. Peake slept on his shoulder.

  Once the kids were buckled in, Paisley dashed down the street to her car. It was too darn cold to stand around chatting without a fire barrel nearby.

  Clay’s disappearance didn’t stop Paisley from thinking about his easy smile and sultry eyes. She could dismiss his first wave as his attempt to say hi to an old friend. The second smile, the one that practically melted the snow, was harder to write off. Instead of being embarrassed when their eyes met, he looked, well … interested … and flirty … and like someone Paisley would have wanted to spend time with.

  She scraped a film of ice off the windshield before getting in the car. Her disappointment that Clay hadn’t asked for her number surfaced as she put the key in the ignition. It’s for the best. She shrugged and turned the key. The heart can only be broken so many times.

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  Book Excerpt

  The Masquerading Groom

  By Taylor Hart

  Chapter 1

  As the sun crested over the Tetons, the water
went from a dull brown to a clear blue. The little waves sparkled where the light touched the lake. Squeezing her eyes together for a moment, Sayla pushed away thoughts of that night over a year ago. Of the car crash and her husband’s warm hand no longer squeezing back as she waited for the paramedics. It had all been her fault. She should have died with Rob.

  Narrowing her eyes, Sayla thought of the news from the doctor yesterday. She needed a surgery. Exploratory surgery to see what all the pain was in her lower stomach.

  She let out a light laugh and wondered why it hadn’t surprised her, not really. She’d finally saved enough for the trip she and Rob had always talked about, and then she finds out she might die. She still hadn’t decided if she should even take the trip. It was either the trip or surgery. She could only afford one.

  Part of her believed the surgery was a sign she didn’t deserve to still be alive.

  “Excuse me.”

  Jolted from her quiet grief, Sayla turned toward the marina.

  The man was dressed in khakis, the Eddie Bauer kind of khakis, a ridiculous fishing hat with flies hanging all over it, a bright red flannel shirt, and brand-spanking-new hiking boots. The guy could have been a model in a Lands’ End magazine. “Do you work at the marina?” He took a few steps toward her while gesturing back to the shop.

  Oh, yes, of course, the tourist needed some worms or something for his first fishing expedition. Looking around, she wondered if Henry would be coming to meet model guy. Henry, her boss and also the owner of the marina, liked to take the early bookings out fishing. She rushed past him, pulling her keys out. “What supplies do you need? Or are you just waiting for Henry?”

  Giving her a hard stare, the man cocked an eyebrow. He shook his head and pulled out an envelope. “No, I …” He hesitated briefly before pressing on. “I was in here yesterday. I took the morning tour with Henry, and I couldn’t quit thinking about you all day.”

  He was hitting on her? Letting out a long breath, she turned away from him and pushed into the store, letting the screen door slam into place behind her. Even though she tried hard not to be noticed, inevitably there was always some guy who wanted to take his chances with the redhead in the marina. It was one of the reasons she always kept her hair under a hat. Plus, being so close to the water made it frizzier than normal. She didn’t want to be noticed. She hadn’t dated since Rob died, and she didn’t plan to start now.

  “Sorry, I’m in a relationship.” The easy lie.

  The guy followed her into the store.

  She flipped on the lights and immediately went to the cash register. There was no automated computer system. Henry liked it that way. She pushed the 1970’s power button on the cash register.

  “You’re in a relationship?”

  There was something unbelieving in his voice that made Sayla turn around and give him a second look. “So hard to imagine?” She couldn’t help her challenging tone. Sure, she’d lied. She wasn’t in a relationship, but normally, it was a conversation stopper. Most of the time the guys bought something and slinked away. Well, it wasn’t exactly slinking when the rustic wood screen door clunked into place. The point was they went away.

  Except this one wasn’t leaving.

  Letting out a breath, he lifted his hand, and Sayla noticed the thick, white envelope. “Listen, I know you aren’t in a relationship because Henry told me you aren’t.”

  “He told you?” This, she didn’t believe because Henry always put on his growly-faced glare when a man lingered around the cash register with any sign he might ask her out. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  The man flashed a smile, and she thought his teeth were too white. The glowing kind of white that didn’t look natural. He put up his hand. “Listen, I’m not interested. I …” He cut off and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He shook his head. “Gah, I …” he turned around and walked a few steps to the door. “This was a stupid idea.”

  Now her interest was piqued. “What did Henry say?”

  The man stopped then, and with an exasperated look, turned back. He spread his hands, holding out the envelope. “I told Henry about the movie star I work for and how I needed to find him a date for tonight.” He lifted and lowered his shoulder. “What can I say? It’s complicated, but he can’t show up without a date. When I told Henry I was offering ten grand in cash, he said you might be interested.”

  “In being a hired escort?” Her heart raced, and she couldn’t believe Henry would even suggest such a thing. “No thanks.”

  The man’s lip tugged up. “It’s not like that. Listen, Henry said refusal would be your first reaction, but he also mentioned you kind of needed the money for something other than the trip too and this might be a perfect solution for you—ten grand for three hours.”

  She shook her head no.

  “Look, it’s not that kind of date. It’s purely innocent. It’s a masquerade ball going on at Harold Swenson’s ranch outside of town. I had someone lined up to fly in from L.A. and go with him, but she cancelled yesterday. Henry said it might be something you’d … enjoy.” The last word hung in the air, like he wasn’t sure if the word might be a bomb that could go off at any second. “It won’t be out of control press. They’re having one photographer to take tactful pictures of everyone attending, but no one will be doing write-ups on the couples or anything. Harold wants all the exposure for himself.” The man flashed a grin. “You’ll be the mysterious redhead Sterling Pennington showed up with. Then you’ll disappear.”

  That was a lot to take in. Sayla tried to digest the idea of Henry encouraging this crazy scheme. Calmly, she put both her hands palm down on the cash register to get her bearings. She had told Henry about the surgery yesterday. Under duress. After he’d pestered her on and off all day and finally insisted he know what the doctor had said. She’d had to tell him about the doctor in the first place because she’d had bouts of pain in her lower abdomen that had forced her to take sick days. She’d been unable to get out of bed during her period. For being such a bear most of the time, Henry truly turned into a mother bear when it came to her health.

  Growing up as a foster kid, she didn’t know if she liked the coddling or not. Henry hadn’t really given her a choice though. He’d even made the doctor appointment for her and told her she better show up or she was fired and kicked out of the cabin she rented from him.

  Ugh. Now he was “solving” the problem. It peeved her. She could handle it on her own. “No.”

  The model man let out a loud breath that whistled through his teeth. “Shoot, I was hoping this would be simple and we could get down to the nuts and bolts of planning it all.” He looked her up and down. “I have a team of people waiting to spray tan, shampoo and style, and fit you with a nice dress. You’ll look stunning.”

  Sayla crossed her arms and flashed a wicked smile. Who did Henry think he was? A hired date? Her? No. No. No.

  Just then, the screen bell chimed as Henry walked through. He wasn’t wearing his usual growling expression. “I see you’ve met Caleb.” The kind of face he gave her when he showed the big fish he’d captured that day stared back at her. He pulled off his fishing hat. Very unlike the hat of the absurd man standing in front of her, Henry’s hat was worn and had actual fishing ties he used almost every day during the summer.

  Ignoring his pleasure, she shook her head and imagined little darts shooting from her eyes into painful stabs in his shoulder. “No way,” she said.

  Henry frowned. “For Pete’s sake, Sayla, you have a gift horse staring you in the face.”

  “No.” She insisted.

  “You won’t let me pay for it. This is only three hours. You won’t even be seen by anyone. Then you can have the surgery and take the trip.”

  She sputtered, still unable to believe Henry wanted her to do this insane thing. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to be some hired date.”

  Henry pushed past Caleb and put both of his meaty hands down in front of her. She could smell a l
ight fish scent accompanied by the Old Spice aftershave he wore. It wasn’t pleasant, but she was used to it. “Listen here, I know there is part of you that wants to simply take the trip and forget about the rest. Let your health go. But I won’t let it. You’re not taking the trip unless you get this surgery first. If I have to sit on you until the doc gets in there and gets a good look at you, that’s what I’ll do.” His eyes glassed over with emotion. “I’ll not lose you, ya hear?”

  Taken aback at the passion in Henry’s eyes, hers immediately moistened, and she blinked. She thought of the picture Henry kept next to the cash register of him and his wife on a cruise in Alaska. A last testament to the love he had for his wife.

  More emotion began going from her chest and into her throat. He cared. That meant more to her than she would admit. It was ridiculous, to entertain the idea she would do this, but the determination in Henry’s eyes told her if she didn’t get the money for this surgery, he would pay for it and wouldn’t take no for an answer. There was no way she’d let Henry pay for it. And she couldn’t give up on her trip. It was all she had since losing Rob. It was the something to live for she needed. The dream of it was the only thing keeping her going, giving her any kind of purpose.

  “Fine,” she said quietly, still staring into Henry’s eyes. “Fine, I’ll go on the stupid blind date with a famous, egocentric movie star. Happy?”

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  About the Author

  Lucy McConnell loves romance. She is the author of the Billionaire Marriage Broker Anthology and contributes to the Snow Valley Anthology and the Echo Ridge Anthology.

  Her short fiction has been published in Women’s World Magazine, and she has written for Parents’ Magazine and The Deseret News. Besides fiction, Lucy also writes cookbooks. You can find her award-winning recipes under the name Christina Dymock.