His Holiday Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “So, that’s what you think.” It was clear now. “You think I’m carried away and confusing that with feelings for you.”

  “Relationships and me don’t mix. They don’t last.” The sunlight chose that moment to fade into the grayness of a storm. Tiny flecks of snow danced through the sky to alight on her hat, her hair, her shoulders.

  Why didn’t she know how amazing she was? Couldn’t she see herself as he did every time he looked at her? He knew how tempting it was to hide behind what had happened in the past because of fear. But the only thing that did was limit the future and steal the wholeness of the present moment. He’d learned that the hard way. He had his share of regrets like anyone else.

  He wanted no more lost chances. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. He let down his walls. He laid down his defenses. Pure vulnerability was hard, but he could do it.

  “My last girlfriend dumped me right after I proposed to her.” He spoke past the pain that haunted him years later. “I made mistakes, I grant you that. I worked too many hours. My job wasn’t nine to five, five days a week. I can be stubborn, and I could have listened better. I know that now. But I did the best I could in the relationship at the time.”

  “What happened?”

  “Jemma left me for a lawyer, pawned the ring and I never saw her again.” He winced. Muscles in his jaw tensed. “She was a gorgeous woman, almost as stunning as you.”

  “Are you ever going to stop with the charm?” She arched one eyebrow, skeptical.

  “I’m telling the truth as I see it. She was too gorgeous for me. My buddies on the force kept trying to tell me I was dating out of my league and I wouldn’t be able to keep her, and they were right. I was devastated and I felt like a chump because I didn’t see it coming. It hurt enough that I stopped dating. Stopped believing there was good in a woman. I never want to get hurt like that again.”

  “I’m sorry.” She meant it. She knew how deep hurt could go.

  “But I’m doing it all over again, or don’t you see?” Snow sifted between them as airy as grace, making him appear blessed. Adamant. Righteous. “Except this time I’ve fallen faster and harder and further than I thought I could go. I’m in love—”

  “Love?” That word made her panic. She wasn’t ready for love. Like, yes. Definite, serious like, yes. But love? That was a dangerous word. When a woman believed in love, she was setting herself up for disappointment. That’s the way romance had turned out for her every time.

  “Yes, in love,” he emphasized and cupped her face with both hands. “How about we do a little experiment to find out?”

  “Like a questionnaire?”

  “Like a kiss.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.” She would not allow him to get any closer to her. So, why wasn’t she moving away? Not a yard, not a step, not even an inch. She wasn’t breaking his hold on her. She wasn’t pushing his hands away from her face. Her pulse skipped three beats. “No kisses. I’m not ready for that.”

  “It’s for purely practical purposes.” His eyes darkened with unmistakable kindness. He angled close and his nose bumped hers. “If one of us doesn’t like it, then we can file this in the foolhardy category.”

  “It will be foolhardy either way.” She curled her hands around his wrists and held on when she should be stepping away.

  His lips settled on hers in the sweetest kiss she had ever known. It was a perfect movie kiss, the kind where stars would blink to life and birds burst into song. His kiss made hope dawn within her and joy brush her soul. That one moment in time was flawless, but it could not last forever. He lifted his lips from hers and his mouth curved into a tender grin.

  “Definitely foolhardy.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “But I have my answer. How about you?”

  “I’ll get back to you on that.” She could gaze into his eyes forever. There she saw his honest feelings. No man had ever looked at her as if she were his princess.

  She was smart enough to know he was caught up in the moment. She had to hold on tight to her heart. She had been caught up in the moment, too, but it had been a mistake. That kiss should never have happened.

  Her phone rang, a cheerful electronic jingle. She reached into her pocket, cleared her throat and tried to sound normal. “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

  “Tucker’s going to be on in a few minutes. Get the lead out and come watch him compete. He just might win this.”

  “We’ll be right there.” She pocketed the phone and closed the truck door. “Looks like hauling hay will have to wait.”

  “I’m good with that,” he quipped. “I’m in no hurry to unload that truck. I forgot how heavy hay bales are.”

  “Then you’re in luck. Your job is done for the day.” She launched away from the truck, taking the lane in a fast walk. She tossed over her shoulder, “Are you coming? Keep up, cowboy. If you can.”

  “I’m right with you.” His gait didn’t falter as he caught up and matched her stride. He would follow her anywhere.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mrs. Gunderson met them at the back door with steaming cups of hot chocolate topped with melting marshmallows. “He’s almost on. Oh, this is so exciting.”

  The kitchen smelled like gingerbread cookies. Autumn felt Ford’s hand settle on her shoulder comfortably, as if he thought she was his girlfriend. He’d already used the L word. What was next? Fear lashed through her as she woodenly accepted one of the housekeeper’s ceramic mugs.

  It was just a kiss. That was all. No need to panic.

  “He’s up!” Dad’s call echoed through the house. “That’s my boy.”

  “Last year Tucker washed out before the finals.” She managed to keep her hand still enough so the cocoa didn’t slosh over the brim. Now if only Ford would remove his hand from her shoulder she would be good. She padded into the living room. “He’s had a good run this season.”

  “I had a chance to meet him at the reception,” Ford explained to his brother, who slouched in a recliner with his eyes glued to the widescreen. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Sit down, you two.” Dad scooted over on the sectional. “He’s in the gate.”

  She edged her mug onto the coffee table. Mrs. Gunderson slipped a plate of oven-warm cookies nearby, grabbed the hem of her apron as if with nerves and slipped behind Shay’s recliner to watch.

  Sure enough, there was her brother on TV, knees up and hunkered down on a bareback bronc. The grandstands flashed across the screen in full Technicolor. The commentators remarked in surround sound on Tucker Granger’s skills. In the chute, he gave his belt a hike, tightened his grip and raised his fist.

  Autumn’s heart stopped, as it did every time. Keep him safe, Lord. If he falls, help him to land softly. The gate opened and the bronco charged out into the arena head down, rear hooves kicking at the sky.

  “He’s doing it!” Dad steepled his hands as if he’d finished a prayer or was in the middle of one. “Look at that horse go. Tucker’s almost there. Three more seconds. Two—”

  Off Tucker flew, tumbling into the dust and into the way of the horse. Still in a bucking frenzy, the animal trampled him. Autumn covered her eyes. Ford’s hand landed on her shoulder, offering her comfort she so wanted to take. If only she could block out the gasps of horror from a stadium full of spectators or the words of a commentator. “He’s down. He’s hurt. This is a terrible turn of events for Tucker Granger. The paramedics are starting to work on him. What do you think, Bill?”

  “Oh, God.” Dad’s choked words were the beginning of an otherwise silent prayer.

  She could not look. She kept her eyes covered, wishing the drone of the commentators would stop. She heard the distinctive tap of cell-phone buttons. Ford left the room. The rumble of his voice drifted in from the kitchen.

  How was Tucker? She peeked through her fingers. On the screen, an EMT crouched over her brother’s body giving chest compressions. She squeezed her eyes shut. Beside her Dad was muttering the Twenty-third Psalm.

  L
ord, don’t let this be real. This can’t be happening to Tucker. He’d just been here, full of laughter and life, her little brother. The bane of her existence growing up. He’d pulled pigtails, stolen schoolbooks and stood up for her when she’d needed it. Help him, please.

  “You can look now, girl.” Dad sounded shaky. Every bit of color had drained from his face. “He’s going to be okay. We gotta believe that. He left me an emergency number somewhere.”

  Autumn slid her hands away. On the TV an ambulance flashed away, and the focus returned to the commentators, whose words never reached her. Another horse was in the chute, and the rodeo continued. All she could hear was the rushing in her ears. She was on her feet without realizing it. The world had turned fuzzy and surreal, as if she were walking through a dense fog.

  “I’ve got the only available seat on a plane leaving in sixty-eight minutes.” Ford pocketed his phone on the way to the back door. “We can make it if we hurry.”

  Dad grabbed a small duffel bag Mrs. Gunderson must have packed. “The airport is an hour away.”

  “That’s why they gave me the flashing lights.”

  “Then let’s hit the road.” Her father made a beeline to the back door and flung it open. “Autumn, are you gonna be all right here?”

  Her father’s gaze searched hers, so full of hurt and fear and worry for Tucker that she didn’t dare add to it.

  “Fine.” She prayed she sounded convincing. Frank nodded once before turning away. The nanosecond he was out of her sight, tears flooded her vision. She wished the hand that curled around the back of her neck wasn’t Ford’s. She wished it wasn’t his strength she leaned on for one brief moment, but it was. She didn’t want to need him as his lips brushed the crown of her head, and then he was gone, too.

  Snow had been falling hard for over an hour as Ford made his way down Mustang Lane. The country road was one long, untouched sheet of white as he navigated around a lazy corner and slowed to a crawl. He searched through the dark for the small reflector on the Grangers’ mailbox pole. When he spotted it, tension rolled off him. Almost there. Almost to Autumn.

  Halfway to the airport, Frank had been able to talk to the hospital about his son. He’d been taken to emergency surgery, and whatever the doctor had told Frank had made him heavy with grief. Ford hadn’t prayed so hard in a long time, since Granddad’s final illness. He didn’t need to stop and ponder that. The Grangers already felt like family.

  The ranch house’s main floor glowed lemony in the dark. He parked by the garage, zipped himself into his parka and hiked up the garden path. Hard to believe there was strife at all anywhere in the world with the snow tapping down peacefully in every direction like nature’s symphony. A porch light led the way to the back door, which swung open before he could knock.

  “Bro.” Shay’s face was red from the cold. “We just finished up feeding. It was like being in an old Western. Except for the bales instead of haystacks. Oh, and the truck instead of a wagon.”

  “Being with Autumn is like having the Old West come to life.” But that wasn’t why he loved her. He crowded into the mud room to shake off the snow and searched for her with a need he couldn’t explain.

  Autumn. The instant his eyes found her standing at the fireplace, relief hammered through him. She appeared smaller than the invincible cowgirl he was used to. She didn’t turn toward him. She faced the hearth, holding out her hands to the crackling warmth. Her straight shoulders slumped, as if it took all of her considerable strength to hold herself together. His feet carried him to her.

  “We just got a call from one of Tucker’s rodeo friends.” Mrs. Gunderson set a pan of Swedish meatballs on the table. “He’s going to stay at the hospital until Frank can get there. It’s still touch and go, the poor boy. Autumn, honey, supper’s ready.”

  His hand settled on her shoulder. “You need to eat something.”

  “I know.” She set her chin, apparently determined not to need him, because she spun out of his touch. It did not stop his devotion to her. She took a shaky breath, as if fighting hard to keep it together. “Thanks for driving Dad and for finding him a flight.”

  “I wish I could have found one for you.”

  “No, someone has to stay here. Scotty can run things, but we’re stretched too thin on patrols as it is.” She padded around him, seeming so distant. “I don’t want to put him in that position if the rustlers come back. I can always hop a flight if Dad really needs me.”

  “You can trust me to help out here.” He followed her to the table, but his brother and Mrs. Gunderson had already vanished into the living room. He caught sight of TV trays and heard the murmur of the rodeo. They were probably watching in case the commentators announced any updates of Tucker’s condition. “I can fill in on the patrols. Shay and I can help with the ranch work.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head so hard, her ponytail whipped back and forth. “You’ve done too much for this family already.”

  “Do you think I mind?” His hand curled around her elbow, holding on when she wanted him to let go. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to put a safe distance between them, but she didn’t move. Her feet refused to cooperate.

  “I’m glad to be here. I plan on always being here.” He moved closer and made the rest of the room shrink.

  “That’s what men always say.” She’d learned this the hard way. “I haven’t had so much as a wink of interest from anyone in so long, you have to understand why I don’t believe you.” Or need you. Or want to rely on you with everything inside of me. She curled her hand around the back of her chair, needing to hang on to something because it could not be him. “I’m sure you mean it, Ford, but in time you will feel differently.”

  “Just goes to show you don’t know everything.” Winter thunder booming through clouds couldn’t sound nearly as sure as the man. “I’ve been alone a long time, too. I’ve been lonely, and I had lost hope. Then I saw you ride in like a Western heroine and I thought, She’s out of your league, Sherman. But did that stop me?”

  “You should quit your job and write novels.” She grasped at humor, the only weapon she had left. She could not be drawn in by the intimate vulnerability in his endlessly blue eyes. She had to stay resolute. “You can sure make up whoppers.”

  “I know what you’re up to, beautiful.” He cradled her face in his hand, his touch so tender he had to be part dream. “You know I’m an honest man. You know I’ve fallen so hard for you, I’m never going to find solid ground again.”

  “I’m afraid that’s what you think. For now. You mean it, for now.” But it couldn’t possibly be true, she could not give in. “You don’t know what the future will hold.”

  “No, but I have an intrepid heart. I don’t scare easily. I don’t quit often. When I see something true and good, I want to hold on to it. On to her.”

  How did she keep her common sense now? She wanted to believe. She really did. She wanted to pull him close instead of push him away. She wanted to be uplifted by hopes and dreams. Maybe that’s why she let his lips brush hers in the sweetest kiss. His kiss was better than any wish, it felt like a promise kept. As if any happiness were possible.

  When he lifted his lips from hers, he did not move away. “How about you?”

  Good question. She was not strong enough. Too much could go wrong, and it was too much to lose. She was better off standing on solid ground, believing true love could not happen to her, than disappointed a second time. That’s what men did. They disappointed you. And you were left to pick up the pieces and pretend you weren’t as crushed as you really were.

  She hiked up her chin, tossed him a breezy look and did her best to act unaffected. “I can be fearless, but I’m never foolhardy. I’m not sure which category you fall into.”

  “That’s fair enough.” He brushed a curl from her face. “Let’s get some food and you can tell me what you need Shay and me to do around here.”

  “I like a man who knows who’s boss.”
She didn’t step away, but kept her hand fisted in his shirt, holding on.

  “I don’t have problems taking orders from a lady.” Dangerous dimples dug deep. “You’ll know why when you meet my mom.”

  “And exactly why would I be doing that?” She arched one brow defiantly.

  “Because my folks are coming out this weekend. Dad wants to see my new digs, and Mom wants all of us together for Christmas.” He tucked the wayward curl behind her ear. “My family is like yours, or haven’t you noticed?”

  “You don’t strike me as a family man.”

  “Then you haven’t seen me.” He ignored the flash of disappointment as it sliced through him. What he couldn’t ignore was the way she became distant without moving a muscle.

  “I’m afraid I see you all too clearly.” She walked out of his arms and away from his embrace, unaware of how much pain she caused him.

  “No, Addy, I don’t think you should leave school.” Autumn did her best to focus on the phone conversation as she rode her workhorse along the perimeter of the pitch-black field. Holding her cell with one hand and a high-powered flashlight with the other, she signaled Aggie to stop, stood in her stirrups and eased the flashlight beam along the section of fencing. Intact and no sign of tracks anywhere. “Dad promised me he would call Cheyenne with any news, and she will call you.”

  “Why am I always the last in line?”

  “Because God saved the best for last, baby sister.” She relaxed into her saddle and pressed her heels gently to Aggie’s sides. The horse plodded forward, head up and alert as if she were looking for trouble in the dark, too.

  “I feel as if I should do something. I want to help.” Easy to imagine Addy in her dorm room in her fuzzy flannel pj’s, with a book on her lap. “I’m going crazy with nothing to do.”

  “What about prayer?” Autumn shone the beam along the next length of fencing. It was good. Instead of returning her attention to the conversation with her sister, her brain looped straight back to her conversation with Ford before dinner.