Instead of getting a beer with Boze, Kincaid, along with Nico Farina and Harris Healy—a young college grad who worked at the grocery store, went up and down the long staircase three times with cookies and shoe boxes of candies. The gingerbread Moonstone village was being assembled in a corner of the restaurant just past the hostess station. Kincaid figured any of the patrons coming or going could steal her precious gingerbread.
As the children eagerly set the gingerbread foundations along fake streets, Kincaid saw a grin on Boze's face as he helped little Finn. Boze already had frosting on one cheek and his chin. Boze and Dolly exchanged warm looks several times. Could Kincaid really break them up? He had to. What would happen to Finn when the quickie divorce occurred after this wedding? Best to end things now.
Gloria had words of encouragement for everybody, even the kid who shot the frosting gun into the air, barely missing a couple eating at a nearby restaurant table. Gloria picked up the frosting that had landed next to their plates of fried perch. She handed the woman a Rudolph barrette. The woman laughed hard while putting on the blinking thing. The man got up and kissed Mrs. Claus on the cheek. Then he gave Mrs. Claus some greenbacks.
Kincaid was curious. What was that all about? Gloria was working the room like a Vegas stripper.
He was distracted by Dolly O'Toole stepping up to him with a camera. “Come on, you and Gloria stand together by the gingerbread village. Both of you pick up gumdrops to put on a gingerbread roof.”
With the whole restaurant staring at them, Kincaid picked up a green gumdrop. Gloria did, too. Their gazes met not six inches apart over a gingerbread roof. Her brown eyes sparked with wickedness. Her lips wiggled in a mischievous way.
He swallowed, determined not to let her get the best of him. “You owe me an apology.”
“For what?”
He almost said, “For the wedgie,” then realized how silly that sounded. “For being so perfect.”
To his surprise, the color drained from her rosy cheeks. Her lower lip quivered. Now what had he done?
Dolly called out, “Smile.”
They smiled for the camera, then Mrs. Claus hurried away to greet patrons. Why had she been ready to cry at being called “perfect"? Didn't she realize she was the perfect Mrs. Claus? That the kids loved her? That every adult in the room loved her?
The truck driver, Philippe Montreaux, came through the door wheeling a dolly stacked high with boxes marked “Mixed Nuts.” Shandra followed him, shouldering her hefty pink and purple backpack.
Philippe said, “Mon ami! We meet again.”
“Hello, again, Philippe. Bonjour, Shandra. You're just in time for some fun.”
“Not tonight,” Philippe grunted under his load. “Shandra and I can't stay. Lots of deliveries.”
Gloria trotted over, clapping her hands. “Thank goodness you found the nuts. Without them we couldn't create the right ‘crushed rock’ driveways in the village. Hi, Shandra.”
Shandra ignored her. The little girl was watching the other children building gingerbread houses and driveways. She had the same wistful look on her face that he'd seen on Gloria earlier. She'd taken a doll with missing hair and arm out of her backpack to hold onto.
Her father said, “Now don't you go dropping that doll again, Shandra Leigh. I won't have time to come back here tonight for it. See y'all later.”
Gloria called over, “Come join us.”
Kincaid wasn't about to spend his evening helping the wedding planner and a bunch of kids build cookie castles. He collared Boze, a bottle of cabernet, and headed upstairs for a chat about the virtues of bachelorhood.
~—~—~—~ ~
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter 4
They settled into the parlor with its fireplace and leather chairs. A Steuben glass collection on a table between them reflected orange flames. Kincaid poured them each a glass of wine, wondering how he could broach the subject of what he termed, “Dolly's folly.” He suspected Boze would be angry, thinking he'd made it all up, so this had to be handled delicately.
“You're lookin’ great, Boze.” Nothing like a lie to butter up a buddy.
“Thanks. I hope I survive Dolly's wedding planner.”
That caught Kincaid off-guard. “I thought you liked Gloria Gibson.”
“I do. I meant she's strong like Dolly, with great muscles and gusto, get up and go. Those women are hard to keep up with. That's what I meant by surviving. I meant it literally.”
“So Dolly does her share of chores on the ranch? That's remarkable, considering she's a country club gal from Chicago.”
“Dolly loves the ranch. So does Finn. I'm a lucky man. Not many women would want to live on a Montana ranch in winter.”
“About the ranch,” Kincaid began again, then started sweating. He and Boze hadn't seen each other in months. How could Kade not even chit-chat before destroying his buddy's wedding? “Did you finally put a tub in that old bathroom?”
“Yup. And Peter's paying for an addition to the house as a wedding present.”
“Mighty generous.” Boze was taking charity? It made Kincaid recall Gloria collecting money downstairs. That still puzzled him, too. That and her almost crying over his compliment.
“I wouldn't be getting on with my life if it hadn't been for Peter.”
“That's true,” Kade said.
“He convinced me that I could love Dolly.”
It bothered Kincaid that Peter condoned Boze's marriage. In Kade's mind, Boze was feeling sorry for himself and settling for Dolly and Finn. Kade also feared that Boze was trying to make right about his past by saving that Afghan woman and her boy all over again by marrying Dolly.
“Let's go for a ride. Cold weather can't stop two cowboys.” Kade got up from the chair.
“You're a bundle of nerves. You'd think you were the one getting married.”
“No way, José.”
Boze laughed as he pushed out of his chair. “Sure, a short ride. We probably won't see each other again for months.”
But as Kincaid headed for the door, he ran into Gloria. She'd gotten rid of her blinking Rudolphs but still looked like Mrs. Claus in her apron. “We need your help downstairs.”
Boze said with his usual cheer, “You got it, honey. What do you need?”
Just like that you forget we were going snowmobiling? How could blindly doing a woman's bidding make a man happy?
Still burning with embarrassment over the wedgie, Kincaid straightened to his full height. “Sorry, Gloria, but Boze and I are going snowmobiling.”
Gloria said, “It's too cold for the skating party Dolly and Crystal had planned for the kids. So after spaghetti we were thinking it'd be great to read Christmas stories to the kids in the library downstairs. We're going hoarse from keeping up with the gang. Could one of you read them The Polar Express?” She inhaled a breath that showed off her assets.
Crap. Does she do that on purpose to get to me?
Gloria's big brown eyes narrowed, wily as a cougar on the hunt. “Well?”
But before Kincaid could say anything, Boze slapped him on the shoulder. “Kade's your man, Gloria. He loves trains. You know what?” Boze gave them a bug-eyed “Aha!” look. “Kade could build a train that winds through your gingerbread village.”
“No, I couldn't.”
Gloria clapped her hands. “I'll have the kids make little dough people that look like all of you in the wedding party and put them on the train.”
For the second time that day she flung herself at Kincaid in a hug, with her bodacious body pressing her pillows against his chest. His wind whipped from his lungs, but the rest of his organs didn't care.
Boze said, “Why don't you and Gloria go up in the attic and bring down Peter's train set right now?”
“Me and Gloria?” There was no way Kincaid was going up to any attic with strong and wily Mrs. Claus. He'd want to touch her breasts and if he did, she'd give him a wedgie. “Gloria can handle it,
I'm sure.”
“That set is heavy,” Boze said. “I can't navigate that steep little stairway up to the attic. You go find the train set and I'll read to the kids. Deal?”
Kincaid wanted to bolt.
Gloria grabbed his arm. “Let me get a flashlight.” She snatched the wine bottle. “I'll get a glass, too. We'll finish this up there.”
Kincaid followed her sashaying derriere up to the third floor, then down a hallway to the back of the mansion, then up steep steps to the attic. Every step of the way, with Gloria's butt in his face as they climbed, his indignation built. He rode bulls for a living, so why couldn't he control Gloria Gibson? Why was she always interrupting him and Boze? And making them do stuff they didn't want to do? But what could Kincaid do about it?
He had to stop being afraid of Gloria Gibson if he were going to end this foolish wedding. He had to show her who was boss. Strike fear into her. But how? Maybe by suggesting they have sex in the attic!
As they mounted the last step and Gloria opened the attic door, Kincaid reached out to untie the floppy apron bow on Gloria's butt.
* * * *
Gloria yelped and whirled around so fast he had to dart into the attic or get hit with the wine bottle and glasses she held in her hands. His foot smashed into the side of a wood trunk.
“Owwww!!” He hopped the other way but his elf booties slid on the linoleum floor. And kept sliding. He passed Gloria with the speed of a semi-trailer rig flying down the Interstate.
“Kade?”
He landed ass over teakettle between cardboard boxes.
Gloria climbed over boxes to get to him. She peered down with her big, brown eyes and feathery eyebrows dancing. Her breasts heaved at him only inches from his face. “Are you all right? What did you see?”
He'd wedged his keister solidly between two boxes and couldn't move. “What do you mean what did I see?”
“I thought you saw something like a mouse or ghost.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you tugged at my apron. You saw mice, right? Thank you, Kade. I absolutely hate mice.” Her face puckered.
“But you're okay with ghosts?”
“As long as they don't move furniture.”
“Maybe ghosts stole your gingerbread.”
“I hadn't thought of that. Maybe the magazine can do a sidebar story about ghosts attending the wedding.”
It was incredible how her brain worked. She hadn't even considered just now that he'd tried to make a pass at her by untying that damn apron. He looked up at the breasts looking back down at him. Gloria was blathering on about ghosts while he was lying on his back wondering if he could cop a feel of her breasts.
Reluctantly, he held up an arm in defeat. As she'd done previously, Gloria hauled him to his feet. Boze was right; she was strong.
Being careful, Kade stepped over to the trunk where the wine sat. He poured each of them a glass of cabernet, instantly gulping half of his. “It wasn't a mouse. I don't get scared by a mouse.”
“Something scared you. What was it?”
You and your massive breasts. “I wanted to come in first and clear the way for you. Didn't want you trippin’ over some of this junk with the wine and get your pinafore dirty.”
“I love the way you say ‘pinafore.’ Say it again.”
Aarrgh.
“No, really. Say it again.” She edged so close he could count each tiny hair in her eyebrows.
“Pinafore.”
“Did you know your nose wiggles when you say that word?” She sipped her wine. The red liquid painted her lips darker, making them even more inviting.
He inhaled. That was a mistake. Her cinnamon and gingerbread perfume caused a hitch in his heartbeat. “Let's find the train set.”
“I'm not done with my wine.”
He took her glass and guzzled the wine. “Now you are.”
“Why did you do that?” she asked in wide-eyed shock.
He wanted to get out of this attic and get away from Gloria, but he decided against telling her that or she'd find something bad to do to him. So he said, “You don't look like a drinker. I'm saving you from a hangover.”
“Do you lie to all your women?”
“Yes.” He turned his back on her wiggling eyebrows to search through boxes.
“So what else have you lied about?”
She was insufferable. “I haven't lied about anything else.”
“Do you like ranching?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because evidently you don't spend time there anymore. You follow the rodeo circuit.”
“I'm still a rancher.”
“But if you're never there, that's like saying you're a farmer but you're never on the farm, so how can you say you're a rancher? There's no logic.”
“This from the woman who believes in ghosts?”
“I'm interested in what you do, is all.”
His hands balled up with frustration, but he made himself relax. “I spend a lot of time making appearances at fund-raising events. I golfed last week at a charity golf outing in Pebble Beach. I'm busy, so I've rented out my ranch.”
“I see.”
Her reaction was so blasé that an odd loneliness stole over him. He hadn't been back to the ranch in months because of his schedule. He wondered if the renters put the Christmas tree in the same corner he always did. As a kid, he helped his dad cut the tree in the snowy forest in some foothills. His sisters decorated it by tossing gobs of tinsel at it. He could hear their giggles, a sound he realized he missed a lot.
The huge attic had gone quiet.
He looked over at Gloria. She had knelt in front of a trunk and was lifting out a doll about the size of a human baby. The doll had red yarn hair and blue buttons sewn on a cloth face for its eyes. “Isn't she just the sweetest thing?”
“Yeah. Sweet.” He tried to sound just as blasé as she'd sounded about his bull riding and golf outing. But when Gloria sniffled, concern took over. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
A man knows that “nothing” from a woman always means “something,” and if he doesn't ask about the “nothing” then “something” would happen to him. On another sigh, Kincaid wended his way around a bird cage, a highchair, and old lamps. He sat down on a box next to her. “You had a doll like that?”
“No. My mother did. My grandma made it for her.”
“What happened to it?”
“It's with my mother.”
“Where's your mother?”
“In Heaven.”
He blinked. The doll had evidently been buried with her mom. “I'm sorry. I mean, Heaven is good. I'm not sorry she's in Heaven.” Blast it all, why can't I talk around this woman? “When did she pass away?”
Gloria hugged the doll. “I was a senior in high school. A dozen years ago.” Tears stuck to Gloria's eyelashes.
Kincaid handed her a clean tissue from his pocket. “My sisters never had homemade dolls.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Three, and they're all older. They'd dress me up in doll clothes when I was little.” Blast again. Why did I tell her that?!
Gloria smiled at him in a way that made time stand still. “They must've loved you a lot.”
“They were bossy. That's how I saw it. My mother has pictures of me in a buggy with them pushing me down the alleyway of the stable. Horses would poke their heads into the buggy and sniff at me or lick my head. Man, I hated that.”
“They licked your head?”
“My hair, my ears, my face, my eyeballs if I didn't shut my eyelids.”
Gloria's robust laughter made him laugh, too. Her face glowed in a way that chased shadows away.
“Glo,” he called her before he realized what he'd said, “my sisters thought it funny, too.”
“Are you seeing your sisters over the holidays?”
“Not sure, Glo.” He liked the soft sound of the nickname. It fit her.
“Not sure?
How can you not be sure?”
“We're all busy. I saw them last Easter.”
She straightened the doll's pink dress. “That's a long time ago.”
Kincaid rankled at her passing judgment. “They know where to find me. It's not like I can just leave the rodeo circuit anytime. I'm a champion bull rider.”
“And you have to defend your title.”
“Sponsors expect it of me.”
With reverence she laid the doll back inside the trunk. “Thank goodness I'm not under that kind of pressure. I only have to reach out to my younger brother and sister over Christmas, but I love it. I've been their parent. Dad left us when we were little, then died in a car accident. Mom battled cancer for two years and was bedridden mostly.”
“You've been through a lot.”
“It made me what I am. To pass the time, Mom and I would do art projects in bed. I'd make things and hang them in the house. Re-decorating with pretty, homemade things became a way to defy the ugliness of cancer. Pretty soon I was teaching my brother and sister how to make wreaths from wild grapevines. I call or email my brother and sister almost every day to say hi. They argue that they're in their twenties and don't need me to be their mother, but I know they need me to call anyway.”
Kincaid didn't even have his sisters’ phone numbers programmed into his phone. He got up, wanting to shake the “quaint” feel of family love in the attic, but it clung to him. “I guess you'll be heading home for Christmas.”
“I'm staying here,” she said, “but they'll be joining me on a cruise that starts New Year's Day. It's a knitting cruise and they both help me instruct.”
“Your brother knits?”
“A lot of men do.” She rose, her cabernet lips glistening.
To avoid doing something really, really stupid, he went back to pawing through boxes.
“What're you doing for New Year's?” she asked while they searched for the train set.
“A rodeo in Reno. Hollywood stars are turning out for it. There'll be parties all over town.”
“That's nice.”
Why wasn't she impressed with what he did? He wanted to yell, “I'm a star!” Instead, he shuffled over to see what she'd found this time. She'd unearthed a child's tiny tea set.
Men Of Moonstone Series Page 8
