The Maverick's Christmas to Remember

by Christy Jeffries

  “So then why don’t you just explain it to her like you did to all of us? She seems like a smart woman to me.” Will looked in his review mirror, probably to make sure one of the shovels hadn’t bounced out after that last bump.

  “She’s incredibly smart. But it doesn’t have anything to do with intelligence. Drew said that it’s her brain tricking her, not me. So no matter what I tell her, she’s going to listen to her brain.”

  “Then what happens when her brain stops tricking her?”

  “What do you mean?” Craig snatched his hat off his head because he was tired of adjusting it every time his skull banged into the headrest.

  “Well, eventually, she’s going to get her memory back. What are you going to do then?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out. Jeez, Will, have you ever thought of getting a bulldozer out here and doing a little grading? Perhaps smoothing out a real road?”

  “What’s there to figure out?” Will asked. “From what I can tell, she’s perfect for you. That’s why I said that Tina would’ve loved her.”

  “Caroline? But she and Tina are nothing alike.”

  “Apparently, both of them wanted to marry you, which means they were born with the same misguided taste in guys.” Before Craig could bark out a retort, Will purposely swerved the ATV to hit a bump in the road, making Craig’s butt completely lift off the seat.

  “If you keep driving like a maniac, I’m gonna walk back to the stable.”

  “Speaking of stables, I heard you took Caroline for a ride when you were at Thunder Canyon. Rob said she looked pretty good in the saddle.”

  “Rob needs to find a woman with her own saddle,” Craig muttered.

  “Jealous much?” his brother asked, then chuckled.

  Craig only growled.

  “My point,” Will continued and Craig pinched the bridge of his nose since there was apparently no end to this conversation in sight, “is that Caroline seemed pretty comfortable on a horse. Hell, she seemed pretty comfortable in general out there on the ranch. I know that’s what you’re looking for in a wife.”

  “I’m not looking for a wife.”

  “She’s also diplomatic and intuitive and has a good head on her shoulders,” Will went on as though he hadn’t heard Craig’s objection. “Plus, I heard you’ve been eating all of your meals at her house, so I assume she’s a decent cook.”

  “The best.” Craig groaned, thinking of the Nutella-filled crepes she’d whipped up that morning. “But don’t tell Meemaw.”

  “Pish,” Will scoffed, then took his foot off the accelerator as they came to the end of the fence line. “As if I want her to think I’m taking Grandpac’s side about anything right before she goes Christmas shopping.”

  A series of beeps chimed and Craig immediately reached for his cell phone, his chest filling with worry that something had happened to Caroline. But it wasn’t his phone that had rung.

  “That’s probably Jordyn,” Will said, idling the engine and pulling out his cell phone to read his wife’s text. “Like everyone else in town, she’s curious about what I’ve found out about you and Caroline.”

  Craig rolled his eyes.

  “Nooooot muuuuuch.” Will sounded out the words as he typed a response.

  The phone pinged again.

  “Jordyn thinks we might have better luck getting you to talk if you have a couple of beers in you.”

  “Well, you two would have firsthand experience at how alcohol can lower a person’s inhibitions,” Craig pointed out.

  “I’m going to tell Jordyn that you’re teasing us about the night we met.” Will began typing and Craig tried to grab the phone from his brother when it vibrated again. “She’s suggesting we go out tonight and celebrate your engagement.”

  “You mean my fake engagement?” Craig asked.

  “Who cares if it’s real or fake? At least you got an engagement, unlike me and Jordyn, who accidentally drank some of Homer Gilmore’s spiked punch one night and woke up married.”

  Craig snorted. At least he hadn’t gotten himself into a similar predicament. Although, things seemed to have worked out pretty well for Will and Jordyn.

  “I’ll tell her we should be done with the south pasture around four,” his brother said. “We can hit the Ace in the Hole after that.”

  “Sorry, man,” Craig said, not the least bit sorry. “Caroline has a meeting with the food and beverage director over at the Maverick Manor late this afternoon. So we’ll have to take a pass on the celebration that’s really an inquisition.”

  “No problem.” Will tapped at his screen for several seconds, then looked up and smiled. “The Maverick Manor has that fancy bar inside the massive lobby. I just told Jordyn we can all head over there after Caroline’s meeting.”

  * * *

  Craig had texted her about the last-minute get-together with Will and Jordyn. However, Caroline certainly hadn’t been expecting an impromptu engagement party of sorts until Jonathan and Dawn showed up, followed by two of the Clifton sisters with their spouses, along with several of the Stricklands.

  When she finally realized what was going on, Caroline wanted to come clean then and there about her restored memory. It was one thing to let people be under a mistaken impression. It was quite another to celebrate it.

  Unfortunately, before she could say anything, Ben Strickland raised his glass in a toast. Craig shot death looks at his childhood friend, but didn’t correct the well-wishers or turn down any of their hearty congratulations.

  Her original question, the one she’d pondered the night of that first intense kiss, returned with a cold force.

  Why was Craig going along with this?

  Now that she knew about Tina and how he’d tried to save her, Caroline could somewhat understand his desire to redeem himself by taking care of Caroline after her concussion. She could even understand how he might indulge an injured woman by allowing her to go on believing whatever she wanted. However, the thing she absolutely couldn’t figure out was why Craig wasn’t telling his closest friends and family the truth.

  Why was he silently drinking to their toasts instead?

  There must be a reason why he hadn’t already put a stop to all of this—especially if Craig was still in love with another woman.

  The only person who could help solve that riddle was Josselyn Weaver. She’d been there when Caroline had hit her head and then again when Caroline had woken up and thought Craig was her fiancé. But Josselyn wasn’t here now, and Drew, who’d also been at the hospital part of the time, was never alone long enough for her to ask any meaningful questions.

  Questions such as What’s in it for Craig? and How far is he willing to go to keep up this pretense?

  The champagne bubbled inside Caroline’s tummy and it felt as if corks were popping inside her head. She needed to go somewhere quiet and think this through before people actually began expecting invitations to their wedding.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered to Craig, who had just clinked beer bottles with his brother Jonathan. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  The tight line of his mouth softened with concern and he put the backs of his fingers to her forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking so soon after your concussion. I told them you probably weren’t up for a big night out like this.”

  “Did you know that everyone was going to be here?” she asked. “That it was going to be like...this?” She’d caught herself from referring to it as an engagement party, because the idea might fill her with too much hope.

  “I had a feeling, but I also knew that when my family and friends get an idea in their heads, they’re not going to be deterred. It was either this or risk having everyone show up at your office to offer us their congratulations.” His arm was draped around her waist as he leaned down to speak in her ear. Suddenly the champagne bub
bles weren’t the only thing tingling inside her. “But I can take you home if it’s too much.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she replied, taking another sip before setting down her glass on the polished mahogany bar inside the old log mansion. “I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes and two enthusiastic congratulatory hugs later, Caroline stared at her reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink, telling herself it was too risky to keep this pretense up.

  She couldn’t very well seduce a man who was probably still in love with someone else. Although, during their quiet drive home last night, she’d wondered more than once if he was staying at her house because he genuinely cared for her.

  Touching her lips, Caroline remembered the kiss they’d shared in his childhood bedroom. She might be young and inexperienced, but even she knew that wasn’t the type of kiss a man gave a woman if he was only feeling protective. The bottom line was that she’d fallen in love with Craig and her underlying instinct that he was the one for her wasn’t likely to go away. However, she needed to know that Craig was with her because he actually loved her, not because he was trying to save her.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t quite know how to do that without telling Craig that her memory had returned. And if she admitted as much, would he consider his hero duties fulfilled and leave her?

  A toilet flushed and Caroline quickly turned on the faucet to pretend she was there to wash her hands and not to give herself a strategic pep talk.

  “Just the woman I wanted to see,” Cecelia Clifton Pritchett said as she came out of a stall. “You’re coming to the Presents for Patriots dinner dance next week, right?”

  “Oh, um, yes. Our company is actually sponsoring the event and planning it out at Sawmill Station.”

  “Good. That means Craig will finally be going to a social function. My big brother needs to get out more. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”

  “Really? Because I was just thinking he seemed pretty uncomfortable out there with everyone congratulating us on the engagement.” Caroline emphasized the last word to gauge Craig’s sister’s reaction.

  With the exception of his grandparents, nobody had mentioned their relationship status at Thanksgiving, let alone questioned it. Surely his family must be wondering what was actually going on.

  “Nah.” Cecelia dried her hands on a paper towel. “He just hates being the center of attention. And, because he carries the world on his shoulders, he probably thinks he should be feeling guilty.”

  “Guilty?” Caroline’s fingers shot up to the V-shaped collar on her dress and toyed with the ruffled edges. “Why would he feel guilty?”

  “For finally moving on and allowing himself to open up to someone a second time.”

  Cecelia stood beside her, applying lipstick while Caroline sucked in her cheeks, fighting the impulse to ask for some sort of proof that Craig really was in fact ready to fall in love again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Yesterday, when Will had railroaded him into the party at the Maverick Manor, Craig had known he should level with all of his family and friends. But then the toasts had started and Caroline, who hadn’t spoken to him much during their drive home from Thunder Canyon on Friday, had gotten all flushed and became even more subdued before rushing off to the bathroom. He’d been worried that the impromptu celebration was too much for her—especially on the heels of meeting all of his family at Thanksgiving—and he’d just wanted to get her home and comfortable and away from all the pretending.

  Other than the accident investigators, Craig had never really spoken to anyone else about the night Tina had died, and maybe he’d been a little too open with Caroline during their ride. But she’d been talking about all that destiny stuff and people knowing where they belong and he needed to make her see that his entire life was the ranch.

  That was his destiny.

  Tina had understood more than anyone else what sacrifices it would take for that lifestyle. But she was gone and Craig would be better off alone than forcing a young and vibrant woman like Caroline into a world that wasn’t for her.

  It would be one thing if she had her memory back and was able to make rational decisions based on full disclosure. However, he worried that she was just acting upon some childish fantasy of getting married and, as much as he desired her physically, there was no way Craig could be with any woman under false pretenses.

  “Let’s go get a tree today,” Caroline had said that morning, taking a tray of homemade cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “It’s going to be a crazy week at work for me and I don’t know when I’ll have another chance since I’ve got weddings and parties booked every weekend this month. Besides, Christmas is my absolute favorite holiday and I can’t wait to decorate.”

  Apparently, neither could the rest of Rust Creek Falls, Craig thought grudgingly a couple of hours later when they arrived at the tree lot adjacent to the Masonic Lodge downtown. The town was already getting into the Christmas spirit with lights and garlands going up on Main Street and notices announcing collection locations for Presents for Patriots, as well as the upcoming holiday pageants at the local schools.

  “Where are we going to put it?” Craig scratched the back of his neck as he studied the eight-foot-tall Douglas fir.

  “If we move one of the bookshelves over to the left, we can put it in front of the living room window.”

  The word we was getting passed around in this conversation an awful lot. But Caroline’s eyes were bright and the tip of her nose was turning pink as the first flurries of snowfall dusted the green branches around them. Her enthusiasm for the holidays was contagious, and since the moment she’d opened her eyes in that hospital emergency room, Craig really hadn’t been able to deny her anything.

  The Freemasons had partnered with the varsity football team to sell Christmas trees as a fund-raiser, and Craig tipped the defensive tackle who’d carried the freshly trimmed bundle to his truck for them.

  “Thank you, sir,” the teenager said before turning to Caroline, who, in her knit beanie and oversize red plaid scarf, appeared young enough to be the kid’s homecoming date. “I’m also supposed to tell all the customers that if you’re looking for homemade ornaments or decorations, they’re having a craft fair right now inside the high school gym.”

  Caroline slapped her mitten-covered hands together and gave an excited bounce before turning those pleading, doe-shaped eyes at Craig. And that was how he ended up spending the rest of his Sunday afternoon picking out glass balls covered in glitter, rolling his eyes in camaraderie with the other men hiding out at the hot chocolate stand and tipping his hat at the ladies from the quilting club who offered to sell him a hand-sewn tote bag for all the purchases he was carrying as he walked behind his pretend fiancée.

  Not wanting to be a complete Scrooge and begrudge her the excitement and wonder of the season, Craig followed along and whipped out his wallet to pay for her decorations. In fact, if was being honest with himself, he was kind of getting a kick out of her enthusiasm as she practically skipped along, gushing at the displays at each booth.

  Later that night, as a cinnamon-scented candle filled the air, they were hanging their new ornaments on the tree that barely fitted inside her tiny house. Caroline reached into one of the paper bags and pulled out matching red velvet stockings with each of their names stitched along the tops.

  Craig gulped and all the pleasure from his earlier indulgences faded away, leaving nothing but a guilty taste in his mouth. “When did you get those?”

  “I saw them when you were at the caramel corn stand, getting us those popcorn balls. The Embroidery Club was selling them and offered free customizing while we shopped.”

  “Don’t you think we’re a little too old for stockings?” he asked. And where would she even hang the things? It wasn’t like she had an actual fireplace in this dollhouse of hers.

  “Says the
man who ate an entire roll of cherry Life Savers on the drive home.” She winked at him. “Didn’t you have a stocking growing up?”

  “Yeah, but as I got older, my parents put me in charge of filling them for the younger ones. Same thing with hiding the Easter eggs.”

  “Well, I figured we could start our own family traditions.” Her last two words hit him with a force, and panic clawed at the back of his throat.

  Or maybe it was guilt. After all, if it wasn’t for him going along with all of this imagined-fiancé business, she wouldn’t be under the misguided impression that they had any family traditions to start.

  Either way, he could feel a line of perspiration dampen his hairline as he studied their embroidered names. The only thing more permanent would’ve been a tattoo. Or a scar.

  He swiped at the prickling skin along his neck.

  How could he convince Caroline that she shouldn’t allow herself to get too attached to him? That she shouldn’t believe this fanciful notion of hers that he was the man for her. If he had permission from Dr. Robinson, he would gladly steer her in that direction right this second.

  But since he couldn’t risk stressing her out by saying what he wanted, Craig said the first thing he could think of. “There comes a certain point in everyone’s life when they need to grow up and stop believing in Santa Claus.”

  * * *

  Last night, Caroline had tried to pretend Craig’s words hadn’t hurt, pasting on her smile that she used when dealing with an overpriced vendor or a client’s negative mother-in-law. They’d gotten the Christmas decorations up—minus the stockings, which she’d discreetly slipped back in the bag—and then she’d made creamy tomato basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner because that wasn’t quite as juvenile as chicken nuggets and tater tots, which were the only things she had in her freezer.

  Despite going to bed early to escape the awkward tension, she’d been awake until midnight, tossing and turning and rethinking what he’d said about her believing in childish things. Thank goodness he didn’t know about the psychic or he’d really think Caroline was naive and impressionable.