A Stone Creek Collection, Volume 2
Page 19
They parted reluctantly, on Olivia’s back porch. She’d be going to Ashley’s tomorrow, while Tanner spent Christmas Day with Tessa and Sophie, at Starfire Ranch.
He kissed her thoroughly and murmured a Merry Christmas, and finally took his leave.
Olivia went inside, found Ginger waiting just on the other side of the kitchen door.
“Did your visitor show up?” Olivia asked as Ginger went past her for a necessary pit stop in the back yard.
“See for yourself,” Ginger said as she climbed the porch steps again, to go inside with Olivia.
Puzzled, Olivia looked around. Nothing seemed different—and yet something was. But what?
Ginger waited patiently, until Olivia finally noticed. A brand-new coffeemaker gleamed on the countertop, topped with a fluffy red bow.
Tanner couldn’t have brought it, she thought, mystified. Perhaps Tessa and Sophie had dropped it off? But that wasn’t possible, either—they’d already been at Stone Creek Ranch when Tanner and Olivia arrived.
“Ginger, who—?”
Ginger didn’t say anything at all. She just turned and padded into the living room.
Olivia followed, musing. Brad? Ashley or Melissa?
No. Brad and Meg had given her a dainty gold bracelet for Christmas, and the twins had gone together on a spa day at a fancy resort up in Flagstaff.
The living room was dark, and Christmas Eve was almost over, so Olivia decided to light the tree and sit quietly for a while with Ginger, reliving all the wonderful moments of the day, tucking them away, one by one, within the soft folds of her heart.
Tanner, proposing marriage on one knee, in her plain kitchen.
Sophie, thrilled that she’d be a permanent resident of Stone Creek from now on. She could ride Butterpie every day, and she was already boning up on Emily’s lines in Our Town, determined to be ready for the auditions next fall.
Ashley, so recently broken, now happily bedeviling a certain handsome boarder.
Olivia cherished these moments, and many others besides.
She leaned over to plug in Charlie Brown’s lights, and that was when she saw the card tucked in among the branches.
Her fingers trembled a little as she opened the envelope.
The card showed Santa and his reindeer flying high over snowy rooftops, and the handwriting inside was exquisitely old-fashioned and completely unfamiliar.
Happy Christmas, Olivia. Think of us on cold winter mornings, when you’re enjoying your coffee. With appreciation for your kindness, Kris Kringle and Rodney.
“No way,” Olivia marveled, turning to Ginger.
“Way,” Ginger said. “I told you I was expecting company.”
And just then, high overhead, sleigh bells jingled.
* * *
“You look mighty handsome in that apron, cowboy,” Olivia said, joining Tanner, Tessa and Sophie behind the cafeteria counter at Stone Creek High School on Christmas Day. It was almost two o’clock—time for the community Christmas dinner—and there was a crowd waiting outside. “You’re under-staffed, though.”
Tanner’s blue-denim eyes lit at the sight of Olivia taking her place beside him and tying on an apron she’d brought from home. Tessa and Sophie exchanged pleased looks, but neither spoke.
A fancy catering outfit out of Flagstaff had decorated the tables and prepared the food—turkey and prime rib and ham, and every imaginable kind of trimming and salad and holiday dessert—and they’d be clearing tables and cleaning up afterward. But Olivia knew, via Sophie, that Tanner had insisted on doing more than paying the bill.
A side door opened, and Brad and Meg came in, followed by Ashley and Melissa, fresh from Ashley’s open house at the bed-and-breakfast. They were all pushing up their sleeves as they approached, ready to lend a hand. Meg was especially cheerful, since Carly had shared in the festivities, via speakerphone. She’d be back in Stone Creek soon after New Year’s, eager to take Sophie under her wing and ‘show her the ropes.’
Of course, having spent the morning at Ashley’s herself, Olivia had been expecting them.
Tanner swallowed, visibly moved. “I never thought—I mean, it’s Christmas, and…”
Olivia gave him a light nudge with her elbow. “It’s what country people do, Tanner,” she told him. “They help. Especially if they’re family.”
“Shall I let them in before they break down the doors?” Brad called, grinning. He didn’t seem to mind that he looked a little silly in the bright red sweater Ashley had knitted for his Christmas gift. On the front, she’d stitched in a cowboy Santa Claus, strumming a guitar.
Tanner nodded, after swallowing again. “Let them in,” he said. Then he turned to Olivia, Tessa and Sophie. “Ready, troops?”
They had serving spoons in hand. Sophie even sported a chef’s hat, strung with battery-operated lights.
“Ready!” chorused the three women who loved Tanner Quinn.
Brad opened the cafeteria doors and in they came, the ones who were down on their luck, or elderly, or simply lonely. The children were spruced up in their Sunday best, wide-eyed and shy. Some carried toys they’d received from Brad and Meg in last night’s secret-Santa front-porch blitz, others wore new clothes and a few of the older ones were rocking to MP3 players.
Ashley, Melissa and Meg ushered the elderly ladies and gentlemen to tables, took their orders and brought them plates.
Everyone else went through the line—proud, hardworking men who might have been ashamed to partake of free food, even on a holiday, if the whole town hadn’t been invited to join in, tired-looking women who’d had one too many disappointments but were daring to hope things could be better, teenagers doing their best to be cool.
As she filled plate after plate, Olivia felt her throat constrict with love for these townspeople—her people, the home folks—and for Tanner Quinn. After all, this dinner had been his idea, and he’d spent a fortune to make it happen.
She was most touched, though, when the mayor showed up, and a dozen of the town’s more prosperous families. They had fine dinners waiting at home, and Christmas trees surrounded by gifts—but they’d come to show that this was no charity event.
It was for everybody, and their presence made that plain.
When the last straggler had been served, when plates had been wrapped in foil for delivery to shut-ins, and the caterers had loaded the copious leftovers in their van for delivery to the nursing home, the people of Stone Creek lingered, swapping stories and jokes and greetings.
This, Olivia thought, watching them, seeing the new hope in their eyes, is Christmas.
Inevitably, Brad’s guitar appeared.
He sat on the edge of one of the tables, tuned it carefully and cleared his throat.
A silence fell, fairly buzzing with anticipation.
“I’m not doing this alone,” Brad said, grinning as he addressed the gathering. All these people were his friends and, by extension, his family. To Olivia, it was a measure of his manhood that he could wear that sweater in public. He knew how hard Ashley had worked to prepare her gift, and because he loved his kid sister, he didn’t mind the amused whispers.
A few chuckles rose from the tables. It was partly because of his words, Olivia supposed, and partly because of the sweater.
He strummed a few notes, and then he began to sing.
“Silent night, holy night…”
And voice by voice, cautious and confident, old and young, warbling alto and clear tenor, the carol grew, until all of Stone Creek was singing.
Olivia looked up into Tanner’s eyes, and something passed between them, something silent and fundamental and infinitely precious.
“Do I qualify?” he asked her when the song faded away.
“As what?”
“A real cowboy,” Tanner said with a grin teetering at the corners of his mouth.
Olivia stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly. “Yes,” she told him happily. “You’re the real deal, Tanner Quinn.”
“W
as it the muddy truck?” he teased.
She laughed. “No,” she answered, laying a hand to his chest and spreading her fingers wide. “It’s that big, wide-open-spaces heart of yours.”
He looked up, frowned ruefully. “No mistletoe,” he said.
Olivia slipped her arms around his neck, right there in the cafeteria at Stone Creek High School, with half the town looking on. “Who needs mistletoe?”
* * * * *
Christmas is a time for fresh starts, and in Mustang Creek, Wyoming, anything is possible—even an unexpected love between a graphic designer with deep country roots and a Hollywood executive who lives life in the fast lane.
Read on for a sneak peek of A Snow Country Christmas an all-new Carsons of Mustang Creek novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller and HQN Books!
Raine McCall first frowned at the screen and then stared at the clock.
Her computer was right. Two in the morning? No way.
Oh, she’d be the first to admit that when she was working she lost track of time, but she was always there to put her daughter on the school bus and make sure Daisy had done her homework and had a healthy breakfast.
She’d always suffered from what she called WSS. Whimsical Sleep Schedule.
Awake at all hours, losing track of time if the muse was in the mood, and she’d been guilty of falling asleep in the chair at her desk. Daisy had told her more than once, with a maturity beyond her years, she thought she worked too hard, but then Raine didn’t really think of it as work. Spinning dream images into reality was a unique joy and she felt sorry for every person in the world that had a job they disliked.
She wasn’t the only one awake either. Taking a break, she checked her email and was startled. Mick Branson? The Mick Branson had sent her a message? Hotshot Hollywood executive, way too focused, and no sense of humor—though come to think of it, he did smile now and then. He was good-looking, but she couldn’t get beyond the sophisticated polish. She was a Wyoming girl through and through and thousand dollar suits weren’t her preference. Give her a hat, jeans, and some worn boots.
Of course she’d met the man quite a few times at the ranch because he was the driving force behind the documentaries that Slater Carson, her ex-boyfriend and father of her child, made, but getting an email from him was a definite first. Sent five minutes ago? She was too intrigued not to open it.
I’m going to be in Mustang Creek for the holidays. Can we have a business meeting? Maybe over dinner?
That was interesting, but currently she was up to her ears in deadlines trying to produce artwork for the labels for Mountain Vineyards wines. Her graphic design business had really taken off, and she wasn’t sure she could handle another project.
From what she knew of Mick Branson, it wouldn’t be a small one either.
She typed back. When did you have in mind?
Tomorrow night? If you don’t already have plans, that is.
On Christmas Eve?
Well, Daisy did usually spend that evening with her father’s family and Raine spent it alone with a nice glass of wine and a movie. They always invited her, but she went the next day instead for the big dinner celebration and skipped the night before in favor of solitude. It was never that they made her feel like an outsider; quite the opposite, but Slater needed some time with his daughter to make memories without Raine always in the background. So while she appreciated the invitation, she’d always declined. It had been difficult when Daisy was little to spend such a magical evening away from her, but he was entitled. He was a wonderful father.
She typed: On the 24th of December, I assure you no place is open in Mustang Creek. This isn’t California. You’d have to come to my place and I usually just eat a hamburger and drink wine.
He wrote back: That sounds fine. I like burgers and I enjoy wine. Let me bring the beverages. Please excuse me if I’m inviting myself.
She couldn’t decide if he had, or if she’d done it. She really did need to get more sleep now and then. She typed: Mountain Vineyards for the wine.
You got it.
Have a safe flight.
Thank you, but I’m already here. See you tomorrow. Don’t mention to anyone, especially Slater, that I’m in town please.
Raine sat back and let out a breath. She hadn’t ever anticipated spending an evening with someone like Mick Branson, much less Christmas Eve.
Luckily, she thought, she’d thoroughly cleaned the house the day before when she realized that sound she abstractly heard in the background was the vacuum. Daisy was voluntarily doing a chore she usually argued over? Raine decided then and there—once she recovered from her shock—that maybe she had been spending too much time in her office. Sure enough, the house needed dusting, the kitchen floor had crumbs on it and the laundry room was in dire need of a workout.
Not that someone like Mr. Hollywood Executive Mick Branson, who probably lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills, would be impressed with her small and eclectic house anyway, no matter how tidy. Wait until he got a look at her Christmas tree. There was no theme to the ornaments; if something caught her eye, she bought and it put it up. There were owls, glittery reindeer, a glass shrimp with wings wearing a boa, all right alongside her grandmother’s collection of English traditional antique glass orbs in brilliant colors. Those heirlooms were hung up high thanks to Mr. Bojangles, her enormous Maine coon cat. He was somewhat of a reclusive character, but he became positively playful when the Christmas tree went up. Walking past it usually meant an unexpected guerilla attack on your ankles because he considered it his covert hiding place every December. Therefore the ornaments on the bottom were soft stuffed squirrels and bunnies with a few fake pine cones he could bat around. Add in Daisy’s giant dog, Samson, who accidentally knocked an ornament off every time he walked by, and her tree had no hope.
“Definitely not a designer tree, unless a deranged leprechaun arranged it” was how Daisy described it.
Raine loved it.
It was exactly her style. There was nothing wrong with being quirky. She went and switched off the lights and headed off to bed, wondering how she’d gotten roped into this situation.
Hollywood Hotshot Mick Branson eating hamburgers at her house on Christmas Eve?
Slater Carson was going to laugh himself into a fit.
Don’t miss
A SNOW COUNTRY CHRISTMAS
by #1 New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller!
Copyright © 2017 by Hometown Girl Makes Good, Inc.
ISBN-13: 9781488095573
A Stone Creek Christmas
copyright © 2008 by Linda Lael Miller
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www.Harlequin.com
Be swept away on the Arizona frontier in a tale of passion, adventure and dangerous promises… Don’t miss this beloved classic from #1 New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller.
Undercover agent Gideon Yarbro is renowned
for stopping outlaws almost before they commit a crime. But now he must stop a wedding—despite the bride’s resistance. Lydia Fairmont will lose everything if she doesn’t honor her betrothal to a heartless banker. The only loophole is if she marries someone else instead, but to her, one loveless match is the same as another.
It’s not good enough for Gideon. Determined to honor his own decade-old promise to help Lydia, he carries her off to Stone Creek and makes her his reluctant wife. Forget a honeymoon for “show”—not with a vengeful ex-fiancé on their trail and a hired gun on the loose. But there just might be hope for the marriage…and two hearts meant for each other.
Originally published in 2009
The Bridegroom
LINDA LAEL MILLER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
Phoenix, Arizona, summer 1915
EXCEPT FOR THE OLD CODGER huddled on the stool at the far end of the bar and the barkeep, who looked vaguely familiar, Gideon Yarbro had the Golden Horseshoe Saloon to himself, and he liked it that way. Just wanted to drink his beer in peace, wash some of the inevitable sooty grit from the long train ride from Chicago to Phoenix out of his gullet, and gear himself up to travel on to Stone Creek come morning.
His brothers, Rowdy and Wyatt, would be after him to stay on once he got home, settle down, pin on a badge like Rowdy had, or start a ranch, like Wyatt. Get himself married, too, probably, and sire a pack of kids. Both considerably older than Gideon, who was the baby of the family, the former outlaws had left the urge to wander far behind them, long ago. They were happy in their new lives, and for them the lure of the trail was a distant memory.