The Maverick's Christmas to Remember

by Christy Jeffries

  The hairs along the nape of his neck stood up and Craig’s hand paused in midair above Tim’s pointy ears. Not wanting to acknowledge the coincidence, he replied casually, “That’s right. I remember that night. You told me you were named after a Dickens book. But later on, your dad mentioned something about a Miss Havisham.”

  “No, that was just my dad’s way of making a joke about my love for wedding dresses. Wait.” She stood up straighter on the step above him. “Of all the things you remember from that night, me babbling on about my name is what stands out the most?”

  “Not the most.” He rose to his full height, unable to resist coming face-to-face with her and meeting her challenge. There was something about being on his own property, in his own element, that made Craig finally feel as if he was on solid footing. “I also remember every single sigh you made as you kissed me to within an inch of my control.”

  Color flooded Caroline’s cheeks, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she lifted her hands to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. “Maybe this time I can make you lose all your control.”

  Her lips had just met his when the unmistakable sound of his grandfather’s truck horn blared through the yard.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You must be the little filly Craig plans on marrying,” an older, heavyset gentleman said as he lumbered up the porch steps. Caroline’s response was immediately muffled against the shoulder of the newcomer’s tobacco-scented sheepskin coat as he swept her into a bear hug.

  “Grandpac, you’re gonna suffocate my fiancée before anyone else gets to meet her,” Craig said from behind her.

  “So you’re sayin’ I’m the first to welcome her to the family?” the man asked as he pumped a triumphant fist in the air, thereby loosening his grip while keeping one beefy arm planted around her shoulders. “So, when’s the wedding?”

  Caroline opened her mouth to explain they still had time to figure all of that out, but then she flashed back to her earlier vow to not say anything that might mislead his family. She aimed her tight-lipped smile at Craig so he could field this particular question.

  “We haven’t set a date yet,” Craig replied vaguely, just as he’d done that day she’d been released from the hospital. And just like then, he looked at something off in the distance, probably so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anyone. While Caroline was relieved to see that he seemed uncomfortable with playing fast and loose with the truth, her muscles also relaxed at his nonanswer. She didn’t want to be complicit in any blatant lies.

  “Well, as soon as it happens, I want to be the first to know.” The older Clifton released his hold on Caroline so he could pull his grandson into an equally enthusiastic bear hug.

  “The first to know what?” The front screen door slammed behind a woman with silver hair cut into a sleek bob. She was shorter than Caroline and wore a two-piece velvet tracksuit in a bright purple color that clashed with the turkey-printed dish towel cinched around her still-trim waist. There also appeared to be rhinestone letters spelling out something across the seat of her pants, but Caroline couldn’t see the word from this angle.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Meemaw.” Craig had to push against his grandfather’s elbow to slip out of what looked to be a hearty and somewhat territorial embrace. He then gave his grandmother a hug and the smaller—and possibly stronger—woman didn’t allow him to pull away either until he gasped, “I want to introduce you to Caroline.”

  “I already met her.” Grandpac’s barrel chest puffed out as Meemaw passed by him. “Before anyone else.”

  “You don’t count, you ol’ grizzly bear.” The woman flicked her wrist at the older man before also pulling Caroline into a tight hug. Caroline’s ribs threatened to snap in half. Yep, Meemaw was definitely the stronger of the two grandparents. Craig’s grandmother whispered in Caroline’s ear, “Just ignore him. I always do.”

  At least, she’d tried to whisper. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to realize how loud her voice was.

  “I heard that,” Grandpac called out. “Instead of wasting all that money on a new hearing aid that doesn’t work, you should’ve invested in another one of your fancy cruises for single seniors. In fact, I’ll pay for it myself if it means I can send you halfway around the world and get you outta my hair once and for all.”

  “What hair?” Meemaw rose onto her tiptoes as she knocked the sweat-stained cowboy hat off his forehead, exposing a shiny bald head. Then the older woman winked at Caroline as she sauntered toward the door. “Come on inside, you two. I’m gonna cut into my famous pecan pie so we can have a little dessert before dinner.”

  “The only thing that pie is famous for is a bad case of constipation,” Grandpac muttered before bending down to retrieve his Stetson. But Caroline noticed the way the older man’s sparkling blue eyes—the same color as Craig’s—remained riveted on Meemaw’s backside. When he rose, Grandpac slapped his hat against his thigh and stomped past them in full pursuit. He was barely stepping inside the house when he shouted, “And why in the hell does it say ‘DIVA’ across your rear end, woman?”

  “So those are my grandparents,” Craig said, hands planted on his hips as he rocked back on his boot heels.

  “I think they’re adorable.” Caroline smiled.

  “Well, everyone else thinks they’re insufferable.”

  “Insufferable relatives are my specialty, remember?” She looped her arm through his and patted his muscular forearm, trying not to think of the way it had felt wrapped around her waist a few moments ago. “Don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  * * *

  When it came time to eat the Thanksgiving meal, there was a brief skirmish between the grandparents as they fought over who got to sit next to Caroline. In the end, Craig’s sister Catherine had to ask her husband, Cody, to scoot down a spot to accommodate Meemaw, and Caroline found herself sandwiched right in between the two bickering seniors.

  Calista and Jake sat across from them, and poor Dawn, Jonathan’s wife and a registered nurse, got stuck on the other side of Grandpac and was forced to endure endless questions about his new blood pressure medication, his elevated cholesterol levels and whether Meemaw’s store-bought biscuits contained more saturated fat than Cecelia’s crescent rolls.

  “Whose biscuits are you calling store-bought, you ol’ sourpuss?” Meemaw leaned forward, glaring over her crystal goblet.

  “Is that your fifth or your sixth glass of wine, Doris?” he replied.

  “You two need to knock it off,” Carol Clifton called out from the head of the table. Caroline was relieved someone was trying to smooth the waters between the two feisty elders, because Craig was at the opposite end with Rob and C.C. and Will, pretending to be in a deep discussion about the vaccination schedules for calves. Fakers.

  “Not that I would know where she gets her biscuits,” Grandpac said under his breath to Caroline. “I wouldn’t eat anything that woman put before me.”

  “Looks to me like you don’t really discriminate about where your food comes from.” Meemaw reached around Caroline and poked a finger right into Grandpac’s generous belly.

  “I know you normally have a hard time keeping your paws off me, lady, but you really need to control yourself in front of the kids.” Grandpac swatted his napkin at the older woman’s hand.

  Meemaw’s reflexes were too quick, though, and she snatched a corner of the orange linen cloth. Caroline plastered a smile on her face and stood up, using her body to break up their impromptu game of tug-of-war.

  “Mr. Clifton, your sweet potato casserole is looking a bit cold. Why don’t I go pop that in the microwave for you?”

  Jordyn, Will’s wife, had already reheated the man’s plate when he’d complained that the gravy Meemaw made was coagulating. But when Caroline made the offer, several gasps sounded throughout the dining room and everyone’s attention shifted to the chair Ca
roline had just vacated.

  Nick, Cecelia’s husband, appeared at her side and whispered, “Go. Save yourself. I’ll slip into your seat and try to keep them separated for as long I can. The new in-law always gets Wall Duty at their first family dinner, and so far, you’ve lasted longer than any of us did our first go-rounds.”

  Luckily, Craig grabbed the empty bowl of mashed potatoes and followed her into the kitchen. It gave Caroline the opportunity to ask, “What is Wall Duty?”

  “It’s the person who ends up with the unfortunate task of being a literal barrier between my grandparents so they don’t physically attack each other. They’ve never actually come to blows, so no need to look concerned. Although, it got real close that year when Grandpac allegedly fed Meemaw’s secret recipe stuffing to her Yorkshire terrier.”

  “Allegedly?” Caroline asked, punching in the numbers on the microwave.

  “Nobody actually saw him do it, but when Scruffins puked all over my dad’s favorite recliner, Grandpac suggested it was proof that Meemaw’s cooking wasn’t fit for dogs, let alone human consumption.” Craig used a wooden spoon to heap more potatoes into the serving dish. “Anyway, sorry you got put in the middle of the two of them. My family does it to all the new members as a sort of initiation, but let me know if it gets to be too much for you.”

  Something burst inside Caroline’s chest as she followed Craig out of the kitchen, feeling about as warm and gooey as the yams and melted marshmallows on the plate she carried back to his grandfather.

  She’d gotten Wall Duty. That meant his family had accepted her as one of its newest members.

  * * *

  “So tell me more about this amnesia of yours,” Rob said to Caroline when Craig finally sneaked the remote control away from a sleeping Grandpac.

  “Rob.” Craig’s voice issued a warning to his little brother. It was after dinner and several of his siblings had already left to return to Rust Creek Falls, but those were the ones who’d arrived the day before and hadn’t already made a five-hour drive this morning. The thought of climbing back into his truck so soon for the return trip brought a throbbing ache to Craig’s upper spine.

  So far, most of his family had been pretty good about just going along with the flow and not asking Caroline any personal questions. Granted, it had helped to have his grandparents’ constant quarreling as a diversion most of the day. But now that it was late in the afternoon and things were quieting down, some of his more daring siblings were getting a bit bolder in their curiosity.

  “What do you want to know?” Caroline’s smile was pleasant, but they were sitting so close to each other on the sofa, Craig could feel her muscles tense.

  “Why don’t I put on the football game?” he said, trying to distract everyone from the direction of the conversation. But his fingers were a bit too overeager and he pressed the wrong channel.

  Goldie Hawn’s face popped up on the screen instead.

  “Oh, hey,” his sister C.C. said, coming into the living room. “I love this movie.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” Caroline replied, leaning forward to hear whatever the actress was saying to Kurt Russell.

  “It’s about this rich lady that hires a guy to do some work on her yacht, but doesn’t pay him. Then the woman falls overboard, knocking herself out and waking up in the local hospital with amnesia. The worker guy needs someone to watch his kids and clean his house and figures since she still owes him money, he should pretend to be her husband and...” C.C.’s eyes widened as she trailed off, then wrestled the remote out of Craig’s grip. “Actually, isn’t there a college bowl game on right now?”

  But C.C.’s words hung in the air and Caroline apparently was no longer interested in football because Craig could feel her narrowed gaze studying him. Of all the movies that had to be playing, it had to be one about tricking someone who was suffering from amnesia.

  Luckily, Meemaw chose that exact moment to walk into the room. “Who wants to play gin rummy?”

  “Deal me in,” Grandpac said, slapping his hands together. He’d been snoring, but at the sound of his nemesis’s challenge to a card game, he suddenly rose from the recliner like a bifocal-wearing phoenix rising from the ashes to reclaim his glory.

  “Okay.” Meemaw scanned her remaining grandchildren as though she were a general choosing which soldiers to lead into battle. “Craig, you and Rob can be on the old fart’s team. I’ll take C.C. and Caroline.”

  “All right.” Caroline began to stand up, but both Craig and Rob grabbed onto an elbow and pulled her back down between them.

  “Actually, I was going to take Caroline outside and show her around the ranch.” Craig congratulated himself on the quick thinking even though he doubted someone like Caroline, with her impractical heels and her wispy dress, would want to go traipsing around the stables.

  “At this hour?” Grandpac argued. “It’s too dad-gum dark to see anything out there right now. You can show her around tomorrow.”

  “But we’re going back to Rust Creek Falls tonight,” Craig said.

  “No, you’re not,” C.C. replied. For being the youngest of eight kids, his baby sister had no problem bossing everyone else around. “You’re too tired and you’ve been rubbing your neck for the past hour.”

  “My neck’s fine,” Craig insisted, trying not to rotate it to stretch out the muscles.

  “There’s no way you’re leaving me and C.C. alone to play cards with the grandparents.” Rob leaned behind Caroline to whisper to Craig. Then his brother winked before raising his voice for everyone to hear. “I know senior citizens like you need their sleep, but stop being such an old fuddy-duddy, Craig.”

  “Fuddy-duddy?” Craig lifted an eyebrow.

  “How old are you, Caroline?” Rob asked.

  “Robert Clifton, you know better than to ask a lady her age.” Meemaw flicked her dish towel against the back of his brother’s head and Craig felt a brief moment of satisfaction.

  Yet Rob pressed on. “All I’m saying is that if Craig is gonna go around robbing the cradle with a much younger—and much prettier—fiancée, then he should act like he isn’t too old and broken down to actually fill a cradle when it comes time.”

  Meemaw smacked at Rob’s head again and C.C. asked, “What do you mean ‘fill a cradle’?”

  “I believe they’re talkin’ about baby making,” Grandpac volunteered, making the situation worse.

  Caroline’s cheeks blazed pink, and C.C., who was only a year younger than Craig’s supposed fiancée, made gagging sounds. “Ew, gross.”

  “Making babies is a normal part of life,” Meemaw told her youngest granddaughter. “Maybe if you went on one of those singles cruises with me you could find a nice gentleman to make babies with.”

  “Pish,” Grandpac said with a shudder. “C.C., don’t you dare go on a cruise with this man-hunting, she-devil grandmother of yours. She’ll set you up with one of her wrinkly geriatric boyfriends. The kinda guy who’ll buy you a cemetery plot right next to theirs for your wedding gift. Better to be a cradle robber like Craig than a grave robber like your Meemaw.”

  Craig wanted to draw Caroline to him and tuck her head against his shoulder so he could shield her from this humiliating conversation. And prevent her from hearing the repeated reminder of their age difference. But when he stretched his arm behind her, he realized she was shaking with silent laughter. Craig groaned. “Can everyone just stop talking about cradles and filling them?”

  Meemaw pulled a deck of cards out of her purple velvet pocket. “I can as soon as you guys get your butts to the table and we start playing.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carol’s and Rudy Clifton’s faces both jerked up from their newspapers when Caroline and the other five entered the recently cleared dining room.

  “Oh, no,” Carol muttered, her eyes darting to the playing cards in her
mother’s hand.

  Laughter bubbled inside Caroline’s chest as she realized why Craig and Rob had been so quick in their efforts to stop her from agreeing to this game. Apparently, everyone else in the house felt the same way. However, she’d never been a part of a big family game night and surely all the Cliftons were overreacting about the ferociousness of Meemaw and Grandpac’s constant competiveness.

  “Guess those Black Friday deals aren’t gonna shop themselves.” Craig’s dad stood up so quickly, his chair fell over backward. “Better head out to the stores now.”

  “Whoa.” C.C. put out both of her palms. “You two have never been Black Friday shopping a day in your lives.”

  “So then we’ll get a jump start on our Cyber Monday deals,” Mr. Clifton replied.

  Rob rolled his eyes. “It’s still Thursday, Dad.”

  “Back in your seats,” Craig commanded his mom and dad before using his thumb to gesture toward Meemaw and Grandpac. “They’re your parents. If we have to play cards with them, then so do you.”

  When everyone moved to the opposite side of the table, Caroline decided to take matters into her own hands and suggested that they play with four teams and then orchestrated it so that the grandparents were paired together. Craig gaped at her like she was absolutely insane.

  “Trust me,” she whispered to him as his dad shuffled the cards. And when Meemaw and Grandpac won the first hand, everyone else relaxed and they were able to sit back and enjoy the game.

  At least, it was relaxing until Rob had to leave to go check on the timer for the sprinklers in the south pasture and C.C. had to write a term paper and Mrs. Clifton told Craig that there was no way he was going to be driving back to Rust Creek Falls this late at night.

  “I’ll be fine.” Craig stood, then held out his hand toward Caroline as though she needed his help to rise. Or maybe it was just his way of signaling to her that it was time to go.

  “You of all people should know better than to risk it when you’re this worn-out.” His mom gave him a pointed look and even the grandparents disappeared. Quietly.