Hitched by Christmas

by Jule McBride

  “You’ve got a point there.”

  Did he? His chest tightened as he thought of how easily he could tongue her body, how soft and yet full of fire her eyes might look as they climbed the heights of desire together. As if already feeling the warmth, Luke unbuttoned and flicked up the cuffs of his flannel shirt, rolling them on his strong, dark forearms. He managed a smile. “Looks like gunfights and car chases suit you, Claire.”

  “You think?”

  “Sure do.” Seeing her so excited was almost worth every bullet that had whizzed past his ears. At least it would have been if Claire hadn’t been in danger. And if the paint job on his new Jeep hadn’t been destroyed. Reaching over to where his Stetson rested next to an empty coffee cup, Luke snagged a fresh toothpick from a dispenser and popped it into his mouth. “Now, before we hit the road again, are you sure you’re all right?”

  She was whirling a cinnamon stick around in a stoneware mug, stirring the remains of mulled cider. “Never felt better. You?”

  “If you want the truth,” he admitted, giving her a quick, pointed look of censure, “I was scared. And you should have been, too.”

  Her sexy lips twitched. “Right,” she returned dryly. “I could tell you were quaking in your boots by the way you kept shoving bullets back into that automatic weapon.”

  “They’re magazines,” he corrected her, running a hand through his sleek black hair, pushing it behind his ears, his mouth curling with humor. “You know that.” He shrugged. “Whoever said I don’t know how to show a girl a good time?”

  “I can’t imagine. No girl in her right mind would say that.”

  “Only the crazy ones, huh?”

  Claire sent him an endearing lopsided grin, which was at odds with her more usual, serious demeanor. “Well, I must be crazy,” she said. “Because I thought it was great. For my first gunfight, anyway.”

  “And your last, if I have any say.”

  Even as he said the words, Luke knew he’d made a mistake. He sounded too possessive. But given the way she’d kissed him in the Jeep, it was hard to remember they were looking for her fiancé. During the awkward silence that fell, Luke glanced around, taking in the mistletoe hanging in the front entry, then the foot-high plastic trees on the tabletops. Instead of stars or angels, birds were perched atop the trees, and looking closer, Luke realized they were partridges in pear trees. Through the holiday messages sprayed in canned snowflakes across the windows, he could see that the snow had tapered off again.

  Claire lifted the mug, finished off the cider and leaned back in the booth, against her open parka. She said, “I just wish we knew what those guys were doing out there.”

  And what I’m doing in here with you, Claire. “Me, too,” Luke said, still feeling the tantalizing softness of her mouth. He shrugged. “Elmer said he’d never seen anybody who answered Ham and Jack’s descriptions.” Before coming to Nora’s, he and Claire had driven to Elmer’s, then they’d called Sherrif Hatcher and Wesley on the Jeep’s phone to fill them in on what happened at the stables. Wesley said he’d run the truck’s license plate number as soon as possible. Now Luke sighed. He just wished he knew if Clive was involved with the men who’d shot at them. Since they’d found Clive’s key chain, Luke had a gut feeling there was a connection.

  “Ham and Jack,” Claire said, thoughtfully tapping the cinnamon stick against the mug. “I wish I’d used the camera in my pocket to get their pictures.”

  “There wasn’t enough light,” Luke reminded her.

  She shuddered. “Well, Elmer wouldn’t be likely to forget such unsavory characters. And Wesley says I shouldn’t file a formal missing persons report on Clive, right?”

  “Won’t do much good yet. Clive’s an adult, and he did have business out of town. They’ll want to wait a few days.” Leaning back, Luke stretched his legs under the table, accidently nudging Claire. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “No problem.”

  Since it wasn’t, Luke left his long legs stretched next to hers. “You really think something’s happened to Clive?”

  Claire sounded as if she’d reached the end of her rope. “I just don’t know, Luke,” she said. “I really thought he was upset and avoiding me. But now I’m afraid something’s wrong.”

  Thoughtfully, Luke rolled the toothpick across his tongue. “You keep saying Clive goes off on his own.”

  “He always has. He’s been boss of the Lazy Four for the past few years, and he doesn’t answer to anyone.”

  “His pa’s got a reputation for being...”

  “Reclusive.” Claire dropped the cinnamon stick in the mug and thoughtfully chewed her lower lip. “Even though I never heard any gossip, I always got the feeling—” she shrugged, as if searching for the words “—that Evander had some tragedy in his past.”

  The pale, dusky flush that appeared on her cheeks made Luke wonder if she felt awkward discussing her future in-laws. However wrong, Luke felt talking about them intruded on the intimacy he and Claire were sharing, serving as a bothersome reminder that they were only together because of Clive. “You get along with Evander?”

  “Yeah.” Sudden warm emotion came into her eyes, and seeing it, Luke realized that Claire and the Stoddards shared a bond transcending her relationship with Clive. It shouldn’t have given Luke pause, but it did.

  “He has four sons, including Clive, but he always wanted a girl, so he treats me like a daughter.” Her eyes narrowed as if she were studying a knotty problem. “Like I said, I think Evander harbors a secret that eats away at him. He knows I suspect it, too.”

  Luke didn’t follow. “You think that’s why he likes you?”

  Claire nodded. “Maybe. People with problems are drawn to perceptive people. They secretly hope the person can help solve their difficulties.”

  Do you think that’s why I like you? Luke thought, fighting that aching, undeniable tug of his heart. Didn’t he secretly believe Claire understood his buried fears about loving? “You’re definitely a perceptive woman, Claire.” A caring, loving woman.

  When she looked at him, her shadowy eyes seemed to melt. Her voice was just as warm. “Thanks, Luke.” After a moment, she continued, “As I was saying, Clive’s had a free rein for years.”

  Luke nodded. “Lucky man. The Lazy Four’s a beautiful spread. I’ve always dreamed of running a place like that.”

  “You could. You’ve got plenty of experience.”

  Luke shook his head. He’d never give his heart to another man’s land, not if he couldn’t fully enjoy the fruits of his labor. Being a right-hand man to someone such as Clive would have made Luke feel illegitimate, like the bastard child he probably was. He didn’t want to feel second in importance to sons who stood to inherit property, whose ancestors’ sweat and blood had drawn wealth from the earth. Call it uncompromising—or the pulse of his proud blood—but he’d settle for nothing less than his own land. Unfortunately, big spreads like the Lazy Four weren’t usually bought and sold; they were handed down for generations. Since fate hadn’t given Luke the birthright he craved, he’d chosen to work small ranches like Cross Creek, giving back to the land what little he took from it.

  He realized Claire was studying him. He said, “Well, I guess we’d better go over to the Lazy Four. We’ll tell the Stoddards we think Clive’s really missing.”

  Looking worried sick, Claire stared into her cider mug. For a long moment, Luke merely watched her, lowering his gaze from her face to where the collar of her red-and-white-checked sweater was open, exposing the creamy neck he’d so often imagined kissing. Her lips were still rouged from the chill winter air, and he wanted to stroke those, too, using both his fingers and tongue, but it was her eyes that most captured him. The haunting shadows around them made her look sad in a way Luke longed to soothe. She really loves him, Luke thought. And then he felt a sudden rush of emotion so for
eign that it took him a full minute to identify it as panic.

  She started fiddling with the edges of a paper place mat, seemingly reading the Christmas dinner menu printed on it. “I hate alarming the Stoddards if we don’t need to,” she finally said. “Especially not Evander. He’s sick.”

  “It’s not up to you to protect your in-laws,” Luke forced himself to say. And although he knew he had no right, he found himself adding, “I want you to stay out of this, Claire. It could mean trouble. We got shot at today.” Seeing bullets dig into the wood near Claire’s head had about done him in. He’d had clear aim at both Ham and Jack, and as far as Luke was concerned, both men were damn lucky to still be breathing.

  She mustered a smile. “And I didn’t think you cared.”

  “Darlin’,” he said sighing. “You know I do. Clive could be somewhere on business, but just in case...”

  She suddenly gulped. “I didn’t tell you everything, Luke.” Leaning closer, she rested her elbows on the table. “The Stoddards’ ranch is in trouble.”

  Luke stared at her. “Claire, you should have told me. What kind of trouble?”

  “They’ve lost money lately. Clive’s a great rancher, but he’s had setbacks. Things like that barn fire last year.”

  Luke pushed the toothpick to the side of his cheek. “I figure that fire’s connected to the one at Elmer’s.”

  “That’s what I think, too. But...what I wanted to tell you is that once Clive and I got engaged, Evander and Tex started talking about merging the Stop Awhile and the Lazy Four. And the other day when we were arguing, it was clear Clive feels he has to marry me now, to help put the Lazy Four back in the black.” She blushed crimson. “It didn’t start out that way, but...”

  Luke could only stare. He’d known Claire was withholding information, but not this. Clive might not love Claire? All along, Luke had figured the Stoddards and Buchanans would combine assets, since it was sensible, but this news hurt. More than hurt, Luke realized. It was killing him. Ever since last summer, when they’d spent the evening together after the bachelor auction, Luke hadn’t been able to get Claire out of his mind, and when she came to the mall, he’d been secretly hoping she simply wanted to see him. But now it seemed as if she really wanted to find Clive. He, not she, was having second thoughts about marriage.

  But Claire didn’t kiss as if she was in love with Clive.

  Luke managed a smile he hoped would smooth over her embarrassment about her relationship troubles, then he found his voice. “The Stoddards’ll make out,” he supposed. “But Tex has got a lot to gain from this deal, too?”

  She nodded. “Tex has liquid capital, but the Lazy Four’s got more land, more cattle, more contacts....” She blew out a long sigh. “Anyway, the pressure got to Clive. He told me he never wanted to work the Lazy Four, but since his older brothers were pursuing other job prospects, he had no choice. Especially since his pa’s sick.”

  Luke’s mind was still reeling. He’d been a fool. If Claire was in love with Clive, that meant she’d asked for Luke’s help simply because he was the best man for the job. And how could Clive not want the Lazy Four? All his life Luke had lusted after land such as that, almost as much as he’d lusted after Claire. He could almost see the spread, how lush it would look in summer with cattle roaming the grasslands, or in early autumn, when the turning leaves would burn against the sky in bright yellow sunbursts and orange fire. Some people didn’t appreciate their own good luck. Clive had both Claire’s heart and the Lazy Four, but he wanted neither. Luke couldn’t help but say, “I’d kill for a spread like that.” And you, Claire. The thought came unbidden. Dammit, I’d kill for you, too. The power of the thought rocked him.

  Claire shrugged. “Clive wanted to work with computers. He’s good at it, too, as near as I can tell.”

  Luke could merely shake his head.

  “I thought he was off somewhere, hashing out his feelings,” Claire rushed on. “At least until we ran into Jack and Ham and found Clive’s key chain. And now...” She looked positively stricken.

  Luke’s chest pulled as he recalled kissing her in the Jeep, how warm the pliable, yielding softness of those full lips had felt beneath his mouth, how she’d responded. As his mouth had moved greedily on hers, an unstoppable hunger to possess every inch of her had churned in his blood. He’d wanted to thrust himself deep inside her, claiming everything she’d offered him years ago in the parking grounds at Lost Springs. Now anger he knew was unreasonable threatened his control. But dammit, Claire had no right to let him kiss her like that, not if she wasn’t thinking of breaking off with Clive. You didn’t give her much choice, Lydell. Feeling disgusted with himself, Luke could admit that much. “Look,” he forced himself to say. “We’d best head over to your...” In-laws. “The Stoddards’. If they know we’re thinking Clive’s disappeared, they’ll be worried, but they’ll think harder about where he might have gone.”

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  As he helped her with her parka, Claire’s eyes settled on the Christmas menu printed on the place mat. Turning, she rested a hand on Luke’s forearm, her long, artistic fingers making the bare skin beneath tingle with awareness. “Why don’t you come for dinner after we go to the Stoddards’, Luke? Mama’s making a turkey.” Claire offered a smile that didn’t meet her worried eyes. “No matter what happens in life, we still have to eat.”

  His heart tugged because he usually ate alone, and suddenly, he felt as if he could happily dine with the Buchanans every night for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t afford to get any closer to Claire, not if it was Clive who was getting cold feet. Besides, Claire had been free all these years, and Luke hadn’t pursued her, now, had he? Obviously, her unavailability was somehow attracting him. “Thanks, Claire,” he said, “but no thanks. We still need to get your Jeep from Lost Springs, and I’ve got some work to do at Cross Creek. I know how anxious you are about Clive, so I’ll check in with the sheriff later. I told him I’d make a statement about what happened at the barn, anyway.” Luke still hadn’t wrapped the gifts for the boys at Lost Springs, either.

  Lifting his hat from the table, Luke tried to ignore the wounded expression in Claire’s eyes. “Are you sure you can’t come for dinner, Luke?”

  “Afraid not.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  But she didn’t, not really. She had no idea how much he wanted her, no more than she understood the near-physical sensation of loss he felt when she withdrew her hand from his arm. “C’mon.” He put his hand on her shoulder, feeling powerless but to restore the physical contact. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  CLAIRE GLANCED AWAY from the windshield. “Luke?”

  “Yeah?” His eyes narrowed as he drove beneath the arched iron gate leading to the Lazy Four. Something he couldn’t put his finger on was bothering him again, and it was more than the fact that Claire was apparently truly in love with Clive. Why that should surprise him, Luke really didn’t know. She was engaged to the man. Still, when Luke kissed her, her response said she was available. Sighing, he scanned the long, straight driveway. It had been cleared with a plow, and the blacktop was nearly visible under a light coat of white. Gripping the steering wheel, he pulled onto the driveway’s shoulder, the Jeep’s tires churning easily through piled drifts left by the plow.

  Leaning, Claire reached above the car phone and lowered the radio volume. She glanced around, her eyes crinkling with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. Letting the engine idle, he watched flurries stick to the windshield and half listened to the music, a country-western cover of “Away in a Manger.” “Claire,” he suddenly began, glancing away from the windshield. “It’s the damnedest thing. Last night, when we came here, I started getting the strangest feeling. Like I’d been here before. I doubt there’s anything to it, but...”

  “You f
eel like you’ve been to the Lazy Four?”

  He nodded. Lifting off his hat and resting it on the compartment between the seats, Luke turned and stared at the gate again. Four rods of black wrought-iron rose from the ground on either side of the driveway, and as they neared the top of the arch, they twined together, fusing into the number four. Two man-size decorative candy canes were crisscrossed in front of the “four” and tied with a large red bow. “I swear I’ve seen that gate before.” He wriggled his tongue against his inner cheek where a toothpick rested, as if that might help him remember.

  “You’ve definitely driven past it.”

  He shook his head. “Never this close to the house. The gate’s not visible from the main road.”

  “So?” she murmured.

  At the urging of her concerned eyes, Luke thought even harder, staring outside at the rolling, snow-covered hills, and then, with another shake of his head, he told her how preoccupied he’d felt, both last night and now, and about how he kept remembering the woman in the yellow dress. “It’s like something’s got hold of my mind and won’t let go,” he concluded. Like you, Claire.

  “You grew up in Lightning Creek,” she said helpfully. “So, it stands to reason you’ve been here. Maybe you just don’t remember it.”

  “Maybe...but I don’t know.” Claire was watching him carefully, but she said nothing more, just let him chew on the toothpick, trying to think. Vaguely, he registered the words to the song on the radio. Away in a manger, no room for a bed. And he found himself imagining the cold chill of the dark, snowy Christmas morning when he’d been dumped on the porch at Lost Springs. Now he felt as if he was the child with no place to go. But why was he thinking about that now? Hadn’t he dealt with that pain years ago and gotten on with his life? Why would it come flooding back when he pulled onto the Lazy Four?

  Feeling suddenly warm, Luke flicked open the buttons of his jacket. Claire did the same, unzipping her parka and shrugging out of it. “Maybe you came here as a kid,” she continued. “Is there anyone you can ask?”