Christmas in Echo Creek_A Sweet Holiday Romance

by Kacey Linden

  “No, he’s a big believer in finding love at Christmas time.” Darcy smirked knowingly. “So if you already have a boyfriend somewhere, better make sure he knows it, because he’ll be lining up the eligible bachelors before you can lie and say ‘but I like being single.’”

  “And are there many of those around here?”

  “Eligible bachelors?” Darcy wrinkled her nose. “There’s a few, but most of them are too old and boring for me. There’s Cale, of course, and Finn Beckett, but his wife’s only been gone a year and he still hasn’t recovered. Austin Keller works for the forest service, Zane Phillips is a hunting and fishing guide, and Sam Harrington does some kind of computer-y stuff over at City Hall.”

  Darcy clearly kept a close eye on the Echo Creek dating scene. She looked up as the bell over the door jingled merrily, and grinned slyly at Willow. “There’s also Jake Cunningham, but I think he’s technically taken.”

  The man who’d just stepped through the door looked a little rougher than the average Creekside customer. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy hair and several days’ worth of beard on his face. His clothes were dusty and his boots worn, and Willow would have guessed he worked outside. From the firm set of his jaw and the steel in his gray eyes, he didn’t seem the sort to welcome friendly questions.

  “Rancher, from a little ways east of town,” Darcy whispered. “You’d never know it to look at him but he could probably buy this whole place without even blinking.”

  “He doesn’t look like the latte-drinking type,” Willow whispered back, keeping a wary gaze on the cold-eyed stranger.

  “Oh, he doesn’t come in here for the coffee,” Darcy said, and winked.

  Sure enough, Jake’s gaze raked the shop, and when it didn’t stop anyplace in particular it returned to Willow, where she stood behind the counter wondering whether she ought to duck.

  “What can I get you?” She was striving for confidence but only barely managed not to squeak.

  “Just coffee,” he said brusquely, in a deep, growly sort of voice that made Willow shiver.

  She filled up a cup and put a lid on it, accepted his card and was just handing it back when his whole focus shifted, off of her, off of the coffee, to the door that led to the kitchen. Rory Ellis stood in the doorway, looking beautiful and perfectly put together in a dark blue sweater dress and gray boots.

  “Jake.”

  Willow had never heard quite that tone from her boss before. Rory’s face was composed, her smile welcoming, but Willow had been watching people carefully for a long time. Behind that smile, behind the carefully confident posture, was pain. Memory. Longing.

  Willow glanced back at the man on the other side of the counter. His face looked the same as it had when he came in, but his eyes…

  “Aurora.”

  “How many times have I told you to call me Rory?” She moved forward slowly, as though taking care with each step. “What brings you to town?”

  “Ben is sick.”

  Apparently this information was sufficient for Rory. She gave a little nod and looked down at her boots.

  “Are the boys well?”

  “Not handling waiting for Christmas very well, but they’re four and six, so I suppose that’s normal,” Rory answered with deliberate cheer.

  “And are you well?”

  The intensity between the two of them grew so thick, Willow felt the need to flee, but she didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she was still standing there.

  “As well as I can be,” Rory said softly, with a slight shrug. “Are any of your family coming for Christmas?”

  “I doubt it. Dad isn’t doing well and Mom won’t leave him this time of year. Jeremiah and his wife just had another baby and they don’t want to have to drive so far.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rory bit her lower lip. “I hope you’ll at least come into town for some of the festivities this year.”

  “I’m sure the ranch will keep me busy.” Jake picked up his cup. “I’ll see you later, Aurora.”

  Rory’s eyes followed him all the way out the door and down the sidewalk to his enormous gray truck.

  “Are you okay?” Willow asked tentatively.

  Her boss started and looked up, blinking rapidly as if to clear something from her eyes. “No,” she said. “And yes. It’s nothing.” She offered Willow a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but ended up twisting into something pained and regretful.

  It wasn’t nothing. But Willow knew all about denying the truths that were evident to everyone else, so she chose to let it go. She had no right to pry into her boss’s private life. But if the time ever came that Rory did want to talk, she would be there.

  Because even if Rory couldn’t read the truth in Jake’s eyes, Willow had seen it clearly. No matter how indifferent he may have pretended to be, Jake was anything but unaware of the beautiful redhead.

  There had to be a story there. And whatever it was, it only made Willow appreciate her boss more. As perfect as she appeared, the coffee shop owner apparently did have her own scars. Her own tragic past. In a strange sort of way, it gave Willow hope for her own story.

  Maybe it didn’t have to be a tragedy. Maybe she could find a way to make something more than a mess out of her life. All she had to do was hang on for a few weeks until she could leave Echo Creek and find a place to start over. Some place far away, where Elliot would never find her and no one would ever know her history.

  Feeling strangely light, Willow grabbed a rag and went to wipe down tables with a smile and an overwhelming urge to hum along with the cheery Christmas song on the radio.

  Chapter 7

  When she arrived home that night, Willow found Mrs. Dillon packing up several boxes of Christmas decor and stacking them by the front door.

  “Are you giving these away?” she asked as she hung her coat in the front closet and put her boots on the rack by the door.

  “Oh no, dear,” Mrs. Dillon said, coming out of the kitchen to give her a hug.

  The first time, that spontaneous show of affection had caught Willow off guard, but by now she realized it was simply Mrs. Dillon’s way of saying welcome home. Willow was beginning to fear that she might actually grow to like it.

  “This is all for Cale,” Marcia informed her. “He brought home a tree today, and since you’re off work tomorrow, I thought we’d go over and decorate it. These are just in case he doesn’t have enough. I don’t know that he’s ever done Christmas on his own before.”

  Willow tried to ignore the leap in her pulse at the thought of seeing Cale again.

  “I haven’t seen him for several days,” she said casually. “I was beginning to think he was avoiding us.”

  “Oh, he would never do that,” Mrs. Dillon insisted. “Pete told me he’s been out of town. Went to the city overnight for some reason.”

  Which city? Willow carefully suppressed the spike of fear that shot through her at the question. Could he have found out where she came from? Suspect that the car was stolen? Maybe Elliot had reported her and Cale had run the plate.

  “But he called me today, and we’re on for nine tomorrow morning. I told him we’re bringing the scones and the enchiladas, and he’s providing the coffee.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Willow didn’t let her fears show. She was probably overreacting anyway, and she did want to see Cale’s house. And meet his dogs.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She just wanted to see Cale, and the emotion caught her by surprise.

  “Are you coming to pinochle night on Friday?” Mrs. Dillon asked. “Pete said he invited you but that you looked like you’d rather eat your own apron.”

  Willow grimaced a little ruefully. “I suppose that’s how I felt, but I don’t mind tagging along if you’re going. I’m sure I can find a convenient corner to hide in if it gets to be too much.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Mrs. Dillon warned, walking back into the kitchen and taking two bowls out of the cupboard. She filled them with fragrant, ste
aming taco soup and took them into the living room. “We’re eating in here tonight,” she informed Willow, “and enjoying the decorations.”

  They’d finished the tree the night before, and Willow loved it. A rustic pine-cone-and-berry garland was the foundation for an assortment of hand-made wooden ornaments, burlap bows, white lights and a barbed wire star at the top. The tree in the front room was frosted with white and silver ornaments, accented by icicle lights, tinsel and tiny red bows.

  Willow took her soup, pulled her feet underneath her and settled in to enjoy the cozy atmosphere. It was going to be so hard to leave this. So hard to go back to feeling alone every moment of every day. It was only the thought of finally being free of fear, free from the specter of Elliot hanging over her life, that fueled her determination.

  She would survive this. And she would be stronger for it.

  The next morning, Willow loaded the car with the boxes of decorations and carried a wrapped plate of scones in her lap as Mrs. Dillon carefully traversed the few blocks to Cale’s house. It had snowed a few inches overnight, and though the roads weren’t completely iced over, they required caution.

  As soon as they pulled into Cale’s driveway, Mrs. Dillon slapped her forehead. “I am such a ninny! I forgot the enchiladas!”

  “We can go back for them,” Willow said, refastening her seatbelt, but Mrs. Dillon put a hand on her arm.

  “No, I want you to go in and get started. I’ll go get them and be right back.”

  “I…” Willow was under no illusions as to Mrs. Dillon’s ultimate goal. It would be unbelievably embarrassing if Cale saw through her flimsy excuse as well, but Mrs. Dillon wouldn’t budge. She helped unload the boxes of decor and left Willow to ring the doorbell, feeling unbelievably awkward with her plate full of scones and her lousy story of how she came to be standing on the porch alone.

  When Cale opened the door, he was in a t-shirt, sweat pants and socks, surrounded by three dogs so enormous even Willow was taken aback for a moment. She felt instantly grateful for the screen door that separated her from their canine enthusiasm.

  “Willow! You’re here! Come on in!”

  The welcome in his voice and his smile was unmistakable, which helped her feel a tiny bit less embarrassed by her story.

  “Mrs. Dillon had to go back for something, so she made me stay to get started.”

  “More scones for us,” Cale declared as he opened the screen and stepped out on the porch to pick up the stack of boxes and set them inside. His eyes twinkled in a way that suggested he knew exactly what Mrs. Dillon had been about. “But first, let me introduce the other members of the household.”

  He preceded Willow through the screen door and took a firm hold of one of his enormous pets before beckoning her to follow. After she slipped inside, he gestured towards the gray Dane who was straining against the grip on his collar, his tail wagging wildly. “This is Duke. The doberman is Carebear and the mastiff mix is Winnie.” He let go of Duke, who promptly rushed forward and began spreading slobber from Willow’s chest to her chin in an effort to welcome her. Bear followed tentatively, sniffing at her shoes before allowing her to pet his head, and Winnie simply regarded her from where she sat near the fireplace, pretending to be completely detached from the proceedings.

  “As you can see,” Cale said, “they don’t agree on the proper way to greet strangers, but as long as I’m here and they see that we’re friends, they’ll be polite. Winnie hasn’t warmed up to anybody but me, but her idea of disapproval is to ignore you.”

  The brindle-and-white dog demonstrated his point by flopping down and turning her back on them. Cale shrugged and grinned.

  “So what do you want to do first?” Willow asked, looking around the sparsely furnished living area. It was a beautiful room, with dark wood accents, a stone fireplace and deep, soft carpet, but it didn’t exactly look lived in. The house had an open floor plan, so she could see right into the kitchen at the back of the house, which also appeared uncluttered and barely used.

  She glanced up and was surprised to see that Cale had shoved his hands in his pockets and appeared somewhat embarrassed.

  “We can start wherever you want. I haven’t really done much with the place, since I’m not here often and the dogs don’t care about the decor.”

  “It’s fine,” Willow tried to reassure him, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her tiny smile. “Your house is lovely.”

  “I know it’s a little too big for me, but I bought it back when…” He seemed to find that sentence difficult to finish.

  “Back when you thought you’d have a family here.”

  “Yes,” he acknowledged. “And it was too much trouble to move.”

  “I bet your dogs appreciate it,” she suggested, hoping to set him more at ease. “They can have sibling disagreements without breaking anything. And if they get in trouble, they can probably all be sent to their rooms.”

  Cale chuckled and ruffled Duke’s ears. “These adorable little angels? In trouble? Perish the thought. They haven’t eaten any of my shoes in at least a week.”

  After a brisk round of tug-o-war with Duke and Bear, they worked together to unpack the boxes, while the dogs flopped on the floor around them and snoozed. Cale built a fire, while Willow began stringing a beaded garland on the tree, humming Christmas songs under her breath.

  She had just finished when Cale’s phone buzzed insistently from the coffee table.

  He took it in the other room and came back only a few minutes later.

  “That was Marcia,” he announced. “She said she’s not feeling well, so we should go ahead without her and she’ll come over later after she’s rested.”

  Willow looked at the floor and felt her face heat. “Maybe I should go back and check on her. We can finish this another day.”

  “She specifically requested that we enjoy the day and not worry about her at all,” Cale said. “And please, don’t let it bother you.”

  She jerked her head up and met his eyes.

  “My uncle is the same way,” he informed her, smiling in a way that indicated he understood her embarrassment. “I don’t think they can help meddling at least a little bit. I’ve learned that it’s easier to just go along with their little schemes and then do my own thing while they’re busy being pleased with themselves.”

  “If you say so.” She bent over the boxes of ornaments to hide her humiliation. “I’m okay if you are.”

  “Willow.” Cale placed a hand on her arm and shifted her slightly to face him. “There’s no reason we can’t be friends, no matter what anyone else says or expects of us. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. I’m also hoping that you might not find me quite as threatening as you did at first.”

  Willow winced, recalling their first encounter.

  “If we can both acknowledge that other people’s expectations have nothing to do with us, maybe we can simply enjoy whatever relationship we have for as long as you’re here.”

  Willow looked at his hand, and then into his eyes. They were steady, warm and sincere, and they induced a shiver right down to her toes that had nothing to do with fear. His touch on her arm was sending tingles all the way from her shoulder to her fingertips, and her stomach seemed to be tying itself in anxious, uncertain knots.

  Oh please no. She could not afford to be attracted to him. Well, maybe that was the wrong way to look at it. She knew she found him attractive. She couldn’t imagine a woman who wouldn’t. But she definitely couldn’t afford to let her feelings or her imagination go any farther.

  Cale Matthews was entirely out of her league. He was kind and friendly and giving to everyone. His smile and his attention meant nothing more than what he’d already offered—friendship. And even if the world came to an end and a man like Cale actually found her attractive, there was Marissa to think of. He was clearly not completely over her. The cold, empty house attested to that. Even had Willow had been free to indulge in a short-term relationship, there was no way she could co
mpete with the memory of his beautiful fiancée.

  So she would accept his friendship and leave it at that. Because she did like him. And she felt like she might be coming to trust him. But she could also never afford to forget that he held the power to destroy her dreams, with just one moment of curiosity. If he ever investigated her story, her bid for freedom would come crashing down around her ears.

  But friends she could do. After all, maybe if she let him in, trusted him with what she could, he would be less likely to investigate her. If he didn’t think she was being secretive, what reason would he have to go looking for answers?

  “Friends,” she said, returning his smile with her own. “I think I can agree to that. Even if I know that the only reason you want to be friends is because you’re afraid I’ll tell the whole town about your little fall off the porch the other night.”

  “Lies,” he said firmly. “All lies. I would never engage in a friendship with such questionable motives. Nor would I sneak a look at Mrs. Dillon’s phone to make sure she didn’t take any pictures of me covered in mud that might end up posted on Facebook.”

  “Cale Matthews, you didn’t.”

  “I just said I wouldn’t.”

  She plopped onto the floor and put an arm around Duke, who leaned on her with an expression of pure bliss, his tail whipping back and forth like a windshield wiper. “I don’t think we should take his word for it,” she told the dog solemnly, “do you?”

  As Cale watched the petite woman embrace his dog—that probably outweighed her by twenty or thirty pounds—he felt something break loose inside, something he hadn’t even realized had been frozen since Marissa left him with nothing but a phone call.

  For the first time in two years, he allowed himself to see a woman not simply as objectively attractive, but as someone who attracted him personally—as someone he felt a pull towards. Willow was in his house, playing with his dogs and helping him decorate, just as he had once dreamed Marissa would do, and it wasn’t painful. He didn’t see Marissa’s dark eyes in place of Willow’s hazel ones, or miss Marissa’s vivacious personality in contrast with Willow’s quiet humor.