A Cold Creek Holiday

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Nate's hands tightened on the tractor controls. He hated Hank Dalton, even two decades after his death, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feed that hate by turning it against the man's sons.

  They were difficult men to dislike.

  Wade Dalton, who had taken over running the ranch after his father's death, seemed a fair man in his few dealings with him. Nate had seen him around town with his wife and a passel of children and it was obvious he doted on his family.

  Jake, the middle brother, was the family physician in town. Nate had taken both girls to him in a panic a few months back when they'd both caught some bug and run fevers of a hundred and one. Doc Dalton had been patient and calm with the girls and had even taken time to allay Nate's brand-new-parent phobias about germs.

  Seth, the youngest, had been Nate's own age and while they hadn't exactly been friends, they hadn't been enemies, either. Seth had seemed most like his father, at least where women were concerned. He used to run through them like irrigation water through sprinkler pipe, even in high school.

  Nate had been shocked to come back to Pine Gulch and find Seth married to, of all people, the very respectable elementary school principal, a woman he liked and admired. By all appearances and the rumors he'd heard, theirs was an extraordinarily happy marriage and Seth's wild reputation seemed firmly in the past.

  He supposed he and the Daltons could never be best friends. The vein of bitterness against their father ran too deep inside him for that and he couldn't seem to get past it. But they were neighbors for the time being, until he figured out whether he was going to sell the ranch, so he did his best to be polite.

  He frowned as he reached the next ranchette down from Rancho de la Luna as another little detail on his to-do list nipped at him. The girls were begging him to take them to a neighborhood party Caroline and Wade Dalton were throwing along with Carson and Jenna McRaven.

  He had been putting them off and hadn't let the McRavens or the Daltons know whether he was going to show up. He was going to have to make a decision on that. But not right now, he thought as he lowered the snowplow. The party wasn't until Wednesday. That gave him three more days to make up his mind.

  By late afternoon, he was cold and hungry and knew he had taken extreme advantage of Emery Kendall's presence at home with the girls. He had to get back and figure out what to fix them for supper, his least favorite part of instant parenthood.

  He drove back to the ranch, hurried through the afternoon chores, then headed up to the house, bracing himself to face her wrath.

  He entered by the front door, since it was closer to the barn, and walked into a winter freaking wonderland.

  He stared around the house, delicious scents eddying around him. Onions and garlic and tomatoes, along with the underlying sweetness of something tasty baking.

  Garlands of pine boughs and red and gold ribbons draped the log staircase and just about every doorway in sight. A vast collections of wood-carved Santas he vaguely remembered from one of the few visits he made back to the ranch during the holidays took up an entire corner display cupboard and a trio of thin evergreens stood in what had been an empty corner, draped in twinkling white lights and more of those red and gold ribbons.

  He walked into the great room. This morning the tree had stood barren and forlorn in the window, but now it was ablaze with lights and ornaments and more of those red and gold ribbons. It was topped by a huge gleaming tinsel star, one of the few Christmas traditions he remembered from his own childhood. What should have looked tawdry and outdated amid all the other decorations somehow looked wondrous and bright in the gathering dusk.

  Had Suzi really tucked away all these ornaments somewhere or had Emery and the girls made some of them this afternoon?

  He looked around, marveling at the difference a few little touches could make. This morning when he left to plow the snow, he thought it had been a nice, comfortable house. A little cluttered and dusty, maybe, since Joanie took off, but not a bad place. Certainly nicer than it had been when they were kids, for all the work Suzi and John had poured into it.

  In the space of a few short hours, apparently Emery Kendall had gone to town and turned something average into something extraordinary.

  She and the girls must have scoured every inch of the house and the attic to find all the decorations. A couple of quilts in Christmas colors had been hung on the walls alongside the one that traditionally hung there. The mantel was covered in a wild cluster of red, gold and white candles in a variety of thicknesses and heights.

  The place looked warm and inviting. Happy, even.

  He should have done this for them. This was a connection to their past and he couldn't let them lose it.

  He drew in a breath, took one last look around at the wonder Emery and the girls had created, then turned to follow the delectable scents to the kitchen. They didn't hear him come in, probably because Christmas carols were blaring from the small under-cabinet stereo in the kitchen and Emery and the girls were all singing along.

  The kitchen was a mess. Flour covered the surface of the island and at least three or four dozen sugar cookies cooled on racks on every inch of the countertops.

  "Oh, look, here's a shape we haven't used yet," Emery said as she sorted through one of the bottom drawers he wondered if he had ever even looked inside. "It's a really cute angel. Look at those darling wings."

  "Ooh, I want to cut out that one," Claire exclaimed, looking more animated than Nate had seen her since he came back.

  "I'm going to put yellow wings on it and maybe a halo," Claire added.

  "I don't want to use that one," Tallie said with that stubborn look she sometimes wore.

  "Why not?" Emery asked, surprise in her eyes at Tallie's tone.

  "Because it's fake. There are no such thing as angels."

  The cynicism, so unusual in the typically bright and open Tallie shocked him. Nate frowned, lurking there on the other side of the door, just out of view.

  "Why do you say that?" Emery sounded as surprised as he felt.

  "My mom used to tell me we all had a guardian angel to watch over us," Tallie answered. "But I don't think that can be true at all. If it was, why didn't Mommy and Daddy's guardian angels hold up their airplane so they wouldn't crash?"

  He drew in a sharp breath, quite certain Emery must be able to hear the sound of his heart shattering into pieces. Every once in a while, the girls' raw grief reached out and socked him in the gut. He wished with everything inside him that he could ease this pain for them, make their world right again.

  Maybe if he was a better substitute parent to them, they wouldn't have to stay up late at night thinking about these sorts of things, like guardian angels who had apparently fallen down on the job.

  "Oh, honey." Emery's voice was soft and sad. "Sometimes even the very best of guardian angels can't stop bad things from happening. That doesn't mean you don't have angels watching out for you. The other night when I was driving here in a storm, I was sure my mom was with me making sure I made it here safely."

  "Maybe she wanted you to get here so you could help us put up the Christmas tree," Claire said.

  Emery laughed, though Nate was quite sure it sounded a little trembly. "You're probably exactly right."

  "So why didn't the angels help my mom and dad?" Tallie asked plaintively. "Didn't they know me and Claire needed them?"

  "I don't know the answer to that, sweetheart," Emery said after a long pause. "There are a lot of things I wish I knew the answer to. I can only tell you that I'm positive your parents would have wanted to stay with you more than anything. But I bet they're so happy you have an uncle who loves you deeply."

  He must have moved or made some kind of sound, because Emery's head whipped around and their gazes met. So much for stealth, he thought as she gave him a charged look. He could tell she was wondering how much of the conversation he had overheard.

  More than he wanted to, he thought, wishing again that he could make everything okay f
or the girls.

  "Hi, Uncle Nate!" Apparently the moment of cynicism and disbelief had passed as Tallie greeted him with one of those rapidfire mood shifts that always disconcerted him and left him wondering if it was more a function of her age or her sex, as chauvinistic as he knew that made him.

  "Hi." He returned her hug, still somewhat stiff and awkward at these spontaneous displays of affection, though he wanted to think he was improving. "So where are you hiding all the elves?"

  "What elves?" Tallie asked.

  "The ones who have been going crazy decorating the tree and hanging garlands everywhere and even making cookies."

  Tallie giggled and even bossy, serious Claire broke a grin.

  "No elves, Uncle Nate," Tallie assured him. "It was only us. Ms. Kendall and Claire and me. We did all the work. Every bit of it."

  "Wow. I couldn't believe it when I walked it. I was sure I had come to the wrong place and walked into that Christmas store in Jackson Hole by mistake."

  "You can have a cookie," Claire told him in that managing tone of hers that sometimes bugged the heck out of him, but just now seemed sweetly concerned for his well-being.

  "Thanks. Don't mind if I do. Which one should I try?"

  "A snowman," Tallie said. "I decorated that one with the red hat, see?"

  He took a bite of the sugar cookie. It was soft and chewy and perfect. "Wow, that tastes terrific."

  "I mixed the dough my very self," Tallie announced, looking pleased. "Claire only helped a little."

  Her sister snorted. "Only because I was busy helping Miss Kendall make the rolls!"

  Almost effortlessly, Emery stepped in to avert one of their potential bickerfests that could turn fierce in an instant. "I don't know what I would have done without help from each of you today. They knew where all the decorations were stored and helped me scour through every box."

  "You all did a great job. The house looks…perfect."

  Emery smiled at him and for an instant, the kitchen seemed to fade away and they were once more in the hush of the darkened house, talking quietly in the night while the girls slept. Just as the evening before, he wanted to kiss her with a ferocity that astonished him.

  What the hell was the matter with him? She wasn't at all his type, he reminded himself. Beyond that, she was a guest at the ranch and beyond that, they were standing in a flour-covered kitchen with his two nieces looking on, for crying out loud.

  "Would you like some soup?" Emery asked. "It's beef barley. I hope you don't mind, I helped myself to the ingredients in the pantry and found plenty of packaged meat in the deep freeze. I thought you might like something warm when you came in from outside."

  "That would be great. It's been a long day."

  "I'll get it for you, Uncle Nate," Claire said. He thought about telling her he was perfectly capable of dishing his own bowl of soup and she didn't have to wait on him, but she looked so eager to please he didn't have the heart.

  "I'll get you one of the rolls," Tallie said. "They're really good, too. I had three of them."

  "Thanks. I'll start with two."

  For the next few moments, the girls fussed over him, pouring him water, fetching utensils, grabbing a napkin, while Emery looked on with amusement.

  He had to admit, it was kind of nice, though not a particular pleasure he was very accustomed to. It had been a long time since he'd been mothered. Longer still since it had been his own mother filling the role.

  Emery had done all this, given the girls something to focus on besides their loneliness. He was grateful for her, but that didn't help the nagging worry.

  They already were crazy about her. He could tell by the way Claire sought her opinion about decorating a cookie and how Tallie looked to her for approval as she rolled out more of the dough.

  Hell, he could be halfway there himself if he spent any more time sharing quiet confidences in the dark.

  He would just have to make sure that didn't happen, he told himself. And though the soup tasted delicious, he had a tough time eating more than a few spoonfuls past the sudden apprehension tightening his throat.

  Chapter Six

  Her soup must be truly terrible, if a man who had been working out on the ranch all day in the cold could barely stomach it.

  Maybe she needed to double-check the seasonings. A bit too much pepper, perhaps? She couldn't quite believe that, especially since she had tried it earlier with the girls. They had eaten every bite and she had found it delicious, savory and rich and warming.

  Nate, though, was glowering at it like it was flavored with alum and vinegar.

  She had spent all day trying to make the ranch house more comfortable for him and for the girls. A little thanks might be nice, instead of this scowling, surly stranger who would barely look at her.

  Maybe it wasn't the house or the soup he didn't like. More likely, it was her. He had made that plain enough the past few days, though she had hoped things might be different between them after the night before.

  She wouldn't allow herself to be hurt. He was a stranger, one whose opinion shouldn't matter to her.

  With a forced smile to the girls, she reached to untie the holiday-themed apron she had borrowed from the hook inside the pantry, the one Tallie had softly told her had been Suzi Palmer's favorite.

  "That's the last batch of cookies. I think you can decorate the rest of them on your own, girls. I really need to head back to my cabin."

  "No!" Tallie exclaimed. "You don't have to go yet."

  "You should sleep here again," Claire said, worry clouding her eyes. "What if the power goes out again?"

  Emery smiled, even as her heart clutched that this girl felt she had to shoulder responsibility for everyone in her world.

  "No worries," she answered, hugging Claire's thin shoulders. "If the power goes out, I'm quite sure your uncle won't mind at all if I come back to the house, will you?"

  Something flared in his eyes at the challenging note to her voice, but he didn't rise to the taunt. "Of course not," he said, his voice cool. "The storm has passed and has headed across Wyoming by now, but you can stay here tonight if you're worried."

  She shook her head. "I'll be fine. I will take a little soup home with me if you don't mind, to warm up in the microwave for lunch tomorrow."

  It took a few more moments than she would have liked to dish some of the soup into a container she had spied earlier in the cupboard, when she had been looking for measuring cups for the cookie dough.

  While she thrust her feet into her boots and put on her coat and scarf, Tallie and Claire continued to plead with her to stay one more night—and she continued to gently insist she needed to return.

  Finally, Nate set the spoon back in the half-eaten soup bowl and scraped his chair back. "Girls, that's enough. Emery is staying at the ranch as our guest, not as your new favorite plaything. I'll walk you back," he said to her.

  She gave him her best snotty debutante look, the one she and her girlfriends had perfected at their private girls' school for moments just like this, when they were faced with a stubborn, interfering male.

  "That's completely unnecessary. I believe I know the way by now. Go ahead and finish your soup."

  Nate didn't seem swayed by either the look or by her cool tone as he put his still-damp coat back on. "I need to make sure the power's working at the cabin anyway before I feel right about you staying there for the night. You girls finish up the cookies, then when I come back you can give me the grand tour of everything you did today, okay?"

  "I'll keep an eye on things," Claire said, sounding about thirty years old instead of only eleven.

  "Thanks," he answered, then thrust open the door for Emery. "You ready?"

  Not wanting to argue with him in front of the girls, she only nodded stiffly and followed him outside.

  She hadn't been outside since the middle of the night, that arduous trip through the blowing snow to the house. The wind had stopped, she was relieved to discover, but the cold still snatched
away her breath. After only a few breaths, she was quite sure her lungs would freeze into icicles.

  She was grateful to reach the cabin, even if it did look dark and cheerless compared to the festive ranch house they had left behind. He opened the door for her, flipped on the light inside, then, to her dismay, he followed her into the cabin.

  "I'll just check the heat," he said.

  "I can think I can flip the switch to turn it on all by myself. I'm not one of the girls. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

  He tilted his head as he studied her while the fan on the electric fireplace whirred to life, pouring blessedly warm air into the room.

  "Why is that?"

  "What?" she asked, confused.

  "Why have you been taking care of yourself for so long? I'm sure this sounds chauvinistic, but I'm just wondering why there's no man in your life."

  "How do you know there's not?" she snapped, not quite sure why she was so angry, but grimly aware she was more furious than she'd been in a long time.

  He shrugged. "I might just be a dumb soldier from Idaho, but I can put a few minor details together and get the big picture. What kind of man lets his woman come out to the middle of nowhere to spend Christmas by herself? That tells me you've probably had a bad breakup in the not so distant past."

  "You're not as smart as you think you are, Mr. Cavazos."

  "I don't think I'm smart at all," he muttered. She thought she heard him add something else under his breath like "at least I haven't been since you showed up", but she didn't hear the words clearly and she wasn't about to ask him to repeat them.

  "You're wrong about a recent bad breakup. My divorce was final eighteen months ago and the marriage was over six months before that. And there's been no one else."

  She thought of that terrible Christmas two years earlier, when her perfect little world—everything rosy and bright she thought she had attained—came crashing down at her feet with only a few words and a careless moment behind the wheel.

  Nate leaned his hip against the edge of the table, crossed his arms across his chest and studied her carefully with a baffled look in his eyes.