Hitched by Christmas

by Jule McBride

  Brady hiccoughed, his ineffectual fists opening and his small hands curling around Luke’s shoulders. “There’s no Santa Claus, is there?”

  Luke knew what the question meant for Brady, who was hoping Santa would find his folks. He also knew how alone and abandoned he’d felt at Brady’s age. Already, the world had lied enough. “No,” he admitted. “But there’s a spirit of giving. That’s why I’m here.” Brady’s small arms tightened fiercely around Luke’s neck, and he released such an inconsolable-sounding whimper that Luke disengaged a hand and smoothed the boy’s flaxen-blond hair. “C’mon, now,” he said, “cowboys don’t cry.”

  Brady sniffled, wiping his hot salty tears on Luke’s neck. “I bet you cried at least once, Luke,” he charged.

  “At least,” Luke admitted. He tried not to think of Claire, and of how bad he’d feel if things didn’t work out between them, and vaguely he wondered what to do about Evander. Maybe Claire was right; maybe Luke should simply tell Evander what he knew to be the truth. “Brady,” he said, emotion suddenly roughening words that he could only hope were right. “Maybe Santa’s not going to find your folks this year, but sometimes things such as that happen. You know how I know that, pardner?”

  Brady tearfully shook his head, his fine hair flying.

  “’Cause years ago, my mama left me here at Lost Springs on the porch. See, I always thought she didn’t even want me....”

  Brady gulped back a sob, then quieted some. “She didn’t?”

  “Turns out she did.” Evander wanted him, too, Luke realized with force. And Claire. All at once, something tugged so hard at Luke that he couldn’t breathe. “Turns out my mama just got sick, Brady, and she had no choice but to leave me,” he continued.

  “You remember when she left?”

  Luke nodded. “I was standing on the porch with her, and it was still dark.” So dark that there seemed to be no lights left anywhere in the world, except through the window at Lost Springs. Luke had seen a tree, nearly a replica of this one, probably lit by these same strands of lights.

  Pretty tree, isn’t it, Justin?

  Justin, Luke thought now, his heart welling. That’s what she named me. Justin. And for a while we lived in the mountains, on reservation land.

  Luke could see her leaning toward him again—the rivers of her raven hair flowing, the cold winter’s air blowing the strands while her dark, magnificent eyes roved over every inch of him. He saw tears gather in them as she leaned closer to press her soft, cold lips to his cheek. Her lips moved, but now he could hear the words. The spirits of the world love you. And I love you. Never forget that. Your mama loves you. Swear you won’t forget. Luke felt the words touch his heart, and he thought, I remember now.

  “Luke?” Brady prompted.

  “She loved me, Brady,” Luke said. “That’s what I found out today. So, I figure it could be the same with your folks.”

  Brady leaned back his head, his tired blue eyes settling on Luke’s. “You think my mama loved me?”

  “Sure, Brady.” Nobody could hold this boy and not love him.

  “Thanks,” Brady whispered, burying his head against Luke’s shoulder again.

  “Wish I could do more.” Some day, when Brady was older, maybe Luke would tell him the few scant facts he’d discovered on his search for Brady’s folks and how the trail had grown cold. Now, staring over Brady’s shoulder again at the tree lights, ornaments and tinsel, Luke felt something warm curl inside him. It was as if he’d suddenly been given an essential heat, a burning fire he’d missed all these years.

  My mama named me Justin, Luke thought. And she loved me. Claire wasn’t the first to say it, after all. But she loved him, too.

  “C’mon, cowboy,” he said. Gently prying Brady’s hands from his neck, Luke lowered him to the floor and took his hand. “We’ve got to get you to bed.”

  Brady’s voice was still strained—more by fatigue now and less by tears. “Do you gotta go be Santa to other folks now, Luke?”

  “Sure do, pardner,” Luke returned. “I sure do.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “CLAIRE LYNN,” Mama yelled from the bottom of the attic steps. “What are you doing up there?”

  “Coming!” Claire shouted. As she strode from the closet, tugging a comb through her hair, her eyes landed above the whitewashed iron headboard of her bed; seeing the barely visible, discolored square that marked the spot where the painting she’d given Luke had hung, Claire felt her heart ache. She’d kept the phone’s ringer turned up last night, hoping he’d return her call in spite of the late hour, but he hadn’t.

  “Just because you’re getting married today,” declared Josie furiously from the bottom of the steps, “it’s not fair to hold up Christmas for everybody else!”

  “Hurry, Claire!” Rosie added. “We’re ready to open presents!”

  “Tex says come down or else!” Emma Jane threatened.

  “Coming!” As she listened to her mother’s and sister’s retreating footsteps, Claire tugged a navy wool sweater dress over her head, slipped on opaque tights and a pair of dress boots, then headed downstairs. In the second-floor hallway, she paused, glancing into the guest bedroom at her and her sisters’ gowns which hung in the open closet, wrapped in plastic. Nervously clasping her hands, Claire recalled all the pretty little speeches she’d planned last night. But how could she tell everyone the wedding was off? Mama had worked so hard, making the dresses and planning the party, her sisters were so excited, and Tex wanted to merge the Stop Awhile and the Lazy Four. Claire almost wished she wasn’t the kind of person who felt inclined to take everyone else’s feelings so much into account; otherwise, it might be easier to break the news.

  “Claire Lynn,” Mama yelled again, her voice coming from the living room. “I know you’re nervous, but there’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s all set. Did I tell you the musicians from Laramie got here last night?”

  “No, but thanks, Mama,” Claire called, moving along the hallway, then down the stairs.

  “Well they did,” Mama assured her. “The flowers arrived, and the food’s set to go... Claire? Claire?”

  “I’m right here, Mama.” Leaning in the archway that led into the living room, Claire gazed at the blinking lights on the tree, then at Mama, who was wearing a red-and-green apron over her slacks.

  “Finally!” Josie exclaimed. Hopping up, she and the other girls began distributing presents.

  “About time you came down, Claire,” Tex said, waving agreeably from an armchair. He was wearing brand-new jeans and a plaid shirt, and sipping coffee. As Mama passed him, heading for Claire, he patted Mama’s hand. “By this afternoon,” Tex said with a sigh, glancing at Claire, “you’ll belong to another man.”

  “Which is why we need to hurry with the presents, girls,” Mama said.

  Usually, the family prolonged the pleasures of the gift exchange by neatly folding wrapping paper and saving bows, but this Christmas everyone thought they needed to get to the church. Tell them. Instead, Claire glanced past the Christmas tree to where early-morning sunlight streamed through a window. Outside, a gorgeous day had dawned in Lightning Creek; the snow glistened like cloth sewn with diamonds.

  “Couldn’t have asked for a prettier day for a wedding,” Mama continued, her voice gentling as she sidled next to Claire.

  Claire’s eyes suddenly stung, and she blinked back unexpected tears.

  “I know how it is,” Mama added with a soft chuckle, slipping an arm around her daughter’s waist. “When I married Tex, I cried my eyes out.”

  “I’d cry if I had to marry Tex, too!” Josie exclaimed with a giggle as she plopped a huge, red-wrapped package at her father’s feet.

  “Watch it, Josie,” Tex shot back with a laugh. “Or I’ll remember that remark come allowance time. Now, c’mon, Claire,” he
continued, pointing under the tree, “open that big one.”

  Claire nodded. But the only presents she wanted weren’t under the tree. She wanted Luke. And so many times this year she’d imagined holding babies, inhaling their baby-smell, and loving them until they were fully grown. She tamped down an abrupt flood of anger. Why hadn’t Luke bothered to call her back last night? She’d wanted him to, no matter how late it had been. What had he been thinking when he’d left her and Clive yesterday at the shack?

  Mama sounded worried. “Claire? Are you all right?”

  She glanced at her mother. “No...I’m afraid I’m not.” Her eyes swept over each member of the family with such intensity that things quieted—her sisters quit delivering gifts, and her parents watched her expectantly. “Last night, after you all went to bed,” Claire began carefully, “Clive and I decided not to get married.”

  “Not get married!” Tex gasped. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Tex,” Claire assured her father quickly, “it was a joint decision. And I’m sorry, since I know how you and Evander thought the marriage might make it easier to merge the ranches.”

  Tex rose to his feet. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed, but we just want you to be happy.”

  Mama drew a sharp breath. “But what happened between you and Clive?”

  “Clive just...doesn’t want to go through with it. He’s perfectly fine with the decision. We’ll always be friends. And...” Claire glanced between her parents. “And I think I’m in love with somebody else,” she announced.

  Emma Jane swooned. Fanning herself with a romance novel she’d already snatched from her stocking, she breathlessly asked, “Is it Luke?”

  “Who he is doesn’t matter,” Claire returned, wanting to keep her feelings private.

  “But it’s Luke, isn’t it?” prodded Emma Jane.

  Claire sighed. “Emma Jane, this is none of your business, but—”

  “Luke!” Josie gasped. “Are we going to get in trouble, since we bought him for Claire at the bachelor auction last summer, Mama?”

  “It was Emma Jane’s idea!” vowed Rosie.

  Emma Jane offered a derisive grunt. “You went along with it!”

  “Just because we bought him, didn’t mean Claire had to do anything with him!” defended Vickie.

  “Mama,” added Rosie, “it’s not our fault!”

  “Please,” Claire interjected before the girls started squabbling in earnest. “This is no time to place blame. I don’t want to ruin everybody’s Christmas, either, but...but I’ve got to go.”

  “Where?” Mama murmured.

  “To find Luke.” The second the words were out of her mouth, Claire felt the truth of them. There was no place on earth she’d rather be this morning than with him.

  Her mother squinted at her. “What for?”

  “I don’t know.” But Claire did. She wanted to beg him for a sign that he was ready to share a life with her.

  “The church is expecting us this afternoon,” offered Tex, as if reading her deepest thoughts. Coming closer, he joined her and her mother. “If you’re looking for a man, you’d better go find him.”

  Claire leaned over and gave Tex an impulsive hug, feeling her spirits rise. “It’s a long shot, Tex,” she admitted. And yes, she’d probably offered her love to Luke too many times already. “But that’s the best idea I’ve heard this morning. And you know what else, Tex?”

  “What?”

  “You’re the best.” Claire planted a kiss on his cheek, whirled around, grabbed her parka from a coat tree, shrugged into it and checked a pocket for the Wrangler’s keys and her gloves. Running out the door, she left her family to a moment of stunned silence.

  Suddenly, Tex released a low chuckle. “If Clive’s all right with this turn of events, I guess we should be. And I guess our little girl’s in the mood for love.” He slipped an arm around his wife.

  Mama snuggled against Tex. “After all these years, I know I still am.”

  Tex laughed. “Me, too. I just hope she winds up as happy as we are.” He shook his head in astonishment. “This sure is shaping up to be one unusual Christmas.”

  * * *

  CLAIRE WAS PULLING from the Stop Awhile’s driveway onto the main road when a car nearly collided with hers. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, gripping the steering wheel and swerving, then laying on the horn. What was the person trying to do? Kill her? Fishtailing to the road’s shoulder, she pressed a hand to the space over her hammering heart. A glinting flash of green glanced off her hood as the other vehicle swung around her.

  “Luke,” she muttered. Hopping out and slamming the door, she strode toward the Cherokee, the wind whipping against her face and hands, her boots sinking in the snowdrifts. As Luke got out of the Jeep, Claire’s already unsteady heartbeat accelerated. He looked luscious. He was hatless. Without messing his side part or loosening his blue-black hair from where it was tucked behind his ears, the winter wind was lifting a few wild strands. His jeans were snug and decidedly sexy-looking, and his big dark hands hung from the sleeves of the shearling jacket. He started coming toward her on those muscular legs that had been wrapped naked around hers just two nights ago.

  They met halfway between the cars.

  “What are you trying to do?” she managed to say, gazing into his eyes. “Get us both killed?” Any fantasies she’d had moments ago about proposing to him left her. She simply couldn’t ask for things that only Luke could decide to give.

  A corner of his mouth curled in a faintly chastising, gorgeous smile. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  She eyed him a moment, thinking of how, just a few days ago, she’d run straight to the mall and into his arms. “Merry Christmas,” she conceded.

  “Where were you headed?”

  To look for you. Claire shrugged, now thinking better of telling him the truth.

  “I thought you might be headed to the Stoddards’.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “We officially called off the wedding. That’s why I called...”

  “I got your message.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I went to make a statement with the cops, then to the main house at Lost Springs. It was too late to phone you back, and I guess I should have this morning. Anyway, I figured I’d just drive over.”

  He’d been coming to see her? “To spend Christmas with us?”

  Reaching down, Luke grabbed her hand and loosely locked their fingers, then he backed up a step, tugging her toward him through the snow. “No, I came to pick you up.”

  She walked toward him, unable to help the flirtatious smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “To pick me up? What for?”

  “This.” Swiftly tugging her hand, Luke hauled her against his chest, slanting his mouth down. Just as his nose brushed hers, feeling so freezing cold that she shivered, she also felt the perfect fit of his lips over hers, and the hot, insistent thrust of his tongue. Licking inside her mouth, Luke sent another shiver through her, this time of awareness that went to her every last erogenous zone. She curled her arms tightly around his neck while he settled his hands on her waist and drew her closer. Together they slowed the blissful pace of the kiss—as if they had all day, she thought. And as if they weren’t standing knee-deep in snowdrifts. By the time Luke’s mouth began closing wetly against hers, and by the time his lips kissed the tip of her tongue goodbye, she felt weak. Everything inside her had turned as hot as summer.

  “Don’t stop kissing me,” she found herself murmuring against his cold, wet mouth, vaguely wondering if they couldn’t make love in one of their cars. Why not? she wondered, her mind hazy with need. Didn’t people do it all the time? Swaying in his arms, she realized she was quite simply unable to let go. She never wanted to lose the sensation of Luke’s kiss, nor the feeling of his body against hers. A
t the juncture of her thighs, he’d become all hard pressure and manly arousal.

  Gliding his hands over her hips, Luke stretched down an arm and grabbed her hand. Beside her ear, his voice sounded husky, and the nuzzle of his nose and cheek was both warm and yet cold. “C’mon, Claire.”

  The idea of loving him physically right now flooded her with unbrookable passion. “Where?” She’d go anywhere.

  His eyes locked with hers, looking strangely determined. Staring into the irises, she noted some tiny black lines that fanned from the pupil, then threaded through the blue. He said, “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  ONLY WHEN EVANDER’S EYES drifted curiously downward did Luke realize he’d linked hands with Claire again. When she tried to pull away, he threaded his fingers through hers even more possessively. The Stoddards, he figured, would find out his intentions toward Claire soon enough. Lightning Creek was a small town.

  “Clive said the wedding’s off.” Evander commented, tucking his thumbs through the shoulder straps of a pair of blue jeans overalls. He’d spoken to Claire, but his narrowed blue eyes were drifting over Luke.

  “Yes, and I’m sorry,” Claire murmured.

  “Clive said we might expect to see you around town with Luke, too,” continued Evander, that intent gaze of his still searching Luke’s face.

  A hint of defensiveness crept into Claire’s voice. “Clive’s also seeing a woman named Sylvie from the drugstore.”

  The first touch of a smile touched Evander’s lips. “Yep. He said so. Sounds like calling off the wedding was a mutual decision.”

  Claire sounded relieved. “It was.” She quickly added, “And Tex will probably call you today about your business dealings. Clive and I’ll start calling the guests soon....”

  A hint of worry crossed Evander’s features but vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I figure me ’n’ Tex’ll work things out.”