One Christmas Wish

by Sara Richardson

  As always, that thought burrowed deep in the tomb where she normally kept all of those memories vaulted. That was where they belonged. Stashed away. ’Course with Mama’s birthday being today, those crushed hopes and dreams were getting restless, feeling almost uncontainable. Was she still in jail? Had Derek contacted her mother after Ruby had run away? Cold dread washed over her, and she plowed through the ranch’s kitchen door before the tide of fear dragged her back into the currents of the past.

  The kitchen was dim, with only the under-cabinet lighting turned on, but it was warm, too, scented with cinnamon and yeast. Inhaling the familiarity soothed the tremble out of her hands. No one here knew a lick of anything about her past, and she had to keep it that way. She couldn’t risk Derek tracking her down, not after the threats he’d made the last time he’d beat her up.

  Holding her breath, she willed her heart to stop pounding so hard. She had to calm herself down. Derek couldn’t find her here, she’d made sure of that. She’d been sad to hear of her old neighbor’s passing, but Ruby James’s death had given her the perfect opportunity to escape.

  The woman hadn’t had any children of her own, and she’d always had a soft spot for Ruby. Still she’d been surprised to hear that Miss James had left her everything. Her house and her car. She’d never told Derek. She’d simply sold off everything except the Civic, and used the proceeds to fund her trip out west, paying cash for absolutely everything.

  As a cop, Derek would have the means to look for her, to watch for a ping on her credit card, to scan reports from all over the country. That’s why she’d been so careful. That’s why she’d used Ruby James’s name. That’s why she’d cut up all of her credit cards.

  No. He wouldn’t find her, she told herself again as she marched to the other side of the room and set down her bag. It was time to stop thinking about him. About Mama. A new day. A new life. And she had cinnamon rolls to bake.

  Bryce and Avery Walker didn’t open the ranch until nine during the slow season, but Ruby and Elsie made all the baked good from scratch, which meant Ruby had to get an early start every morning. She preferred that, anyway. Being alone. It was easier because she didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to watch herself so closely, to guard every word and thought so she wouldn’t risk confusing her new identity with her old life. When she was alone, she could let down her guard, turn on some tunes, and put her hands to work, rolling out scones and cinnamon roll dough and whatever else was on the menu for the morning.

  Just the thought of that therapeutic process that included kneading and rolling and mixing was enough to set her emotions right. Even though she’d left it behind, her old life was always there in the dreams, in the memories. Sometimes they leaked out, spilling over into the present, but she could usually outrun ’em as long as she stayed busy.

  And speaking of busy…she shimmied out of her fleece coat and hung it on the hook behind the pantry…she had a whole mess of baked goods planned for those kids—gooey chocolate chip cookies as big as their heads, fat, fluffy cinnamon rolls that would melt in their mouths. Smiling at the thought, she started to unpack her supplies. First, the heavy marble rolling pin that had cost her a small fortune. Admiring the swirled gray and white stone, she pulled it out of the bag and—

  Crash!

  The jarring sound stilled her. A breath lodged in her throat. She strained her ears, listening.

  A series of thuds and rumbles sounded again from the pantry.

  Oh, god. A swallow tangled her windpipe. Something was in there. Her grip tightened on the rolling pin’s handle. Was it a bear fresh out of hibernation? Scenes from that damn grizzly bear documentary she’d watched two days ago flashed like a horror flick—the bear towering on his hind legs, teeth gnashing, claws slashing through the air. Aspen had a major bear problem. They broke into restaurants and homes, raiding the kitchens, pilfering through the trash…

  God. Oh, dear god. Her heart catapulted into an arrhythmia. Perspiration beaded on her skin. She stared longingly at the kitchen door, all the way on the other side of the room. It might as well have been in Antarctica! There was no way she’d get over there without the thing hearing her! The pantry’s half-open door stood between her and a clean escape…

  More clatters cinched tension into her neck.

  “Damn it!”

  Ruby inhaled a gasp. Not a bear! Definitely not a bear. A muffled string of curses edged her back against the wall. A man. There was a man in the pantry! Except there were no other cars outside. Bryce and Shooter, the ranch’s other guide, had gone on a backpacking trip with the kids.

  Wait a minute. She jerked her head and squinted in a futile effort to examine the kitchen door she’d walked through not five minutes ago. It hadn’t been locked. Holy Moses, it was always locked! If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with the past, she would’ve noticed. Someone had broken in!

  An icy sensation spread over her shoulders and locked them tight, the remnants of past trauma seeping into her.

  Derek?

  No, no. He couldn’t have found her.

  Another crash seemed to shake the floor.

  Panic came in wrenching gasps, clouding her vision, prickling her skin. 911. She had to call 911 before the man came out and saw her.

  Still gripping the rolling pin, she reached her other clammy hand into the market bag and fished for her cell phone.

  The pantry door creaked, then cranked open all the way.

  It was dark inside, but a man’s silhouette stood under the doorjamb. A large man. Tall, broad shoulders. The hood of a black sweatshirt obscured his face.

  “Freeze, dirt bag!” Arm stiff with fear, Ruby held out the rolling pin, brandishing it as if it was a gun.

  “What the hell?” The man took a step toward her.

  “I said freeze,” she squeaked, because technically, there wasn’t much she could do if he decided not to obey.

  “Easy,” the guy murmured in a patronizing voice, like he was trying to lure a scared puppy or something.

  “You hold it right there, asshole!” She waved the rolling pin again. “I’m calling nine-one-one.”

  “Take it easy.” Slowly, the man held up one hand while the other took down his hood. “It’s me, Ruby,” he said. But me who? All she could see were the bright lights of fear shooting holes through her vision. Because she’d never been able to fight back. When Derek came at her, when he laced his fingers around her neck and reminded her he could squeeze the life out of her, she’d never been able to fight back…

  Gasping for a breath, she realized her fingertips were tingling with numbness. Oh god! How would she fight back with a rolling pin?

  “Ruby!” The man shuffled a step closer. “Lower the weapon.”

  How? Her arms seemed locked in place. Her lungs heaved and gasped. No! Not here! Not now! She hadn’t had a panic attack since she’d come to the Walker Mountain Ranch. But sure enough, her heart pounded so hard her head got light. It felt like her lungs were filling with water. She had to fight for a breath.

  “Hey.” A hand enclosed hers.

  Fire roared through her. “Don’t touch me!” She ripped free and swung the rolling pin as hard as she could, feeling a thud as it collided with the man’s body.

  A winded groan punched out of his mouth and he sank slowly to the floor, clutching his groin.

  “Holy Moses,” she whimpered. She’d taken the guy down. What now? What the hell should she do now? Frozen, she stood over him, still clutching the rolling pin.

  “You hit me with that again, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to walk for a week,” the man said. “Kids’ll probably be out of the question, too.”

  A joke? The perp was joking with her?

  Ruby’s vision cleared. She gazed down at him and stared into eyes so blue they put the Colorado sky to shame. “Sawyer,” she panted. Realizing who he was didn’t do much to curb the panic. Sawyer was Bryce’s cousin! A cop! She’d nailed a cop in the balls with a marble rolling pin!

>   “I’m so sorry!” She dropped to her knees next to him. “Are you okay? I thought you were an intruder!”

  “Obviously,” he mumbled as he gingerly sat up and hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees. He shifted slightly with a wince.

  “Why didn’t you stop me?” Yes, it was perhaps a bit unsympathetic for her to ask that question when the man’s voice was still cracking like a preteen’s, but what the hell? With all of those bulging muscles of his, he could’ve immobilized her with one maneuver. He could’ve taken away the rolling pin and they wouldn’t be in this situation, now, would they?

  “Didn’t want to scare you,” Sawyer mumbled. “You already seemed pretty freaked out.”

  Humiliation soaked her face. This was not good, him seeing her have a panic attack. Really not good. Out of everyone here, she’d avoided Sawyer the most. He was a cop. A little research and the man could bring down her entire fabricated life,

  “You want to tell me why you didn’t recognize me?” His tenor had settled back into the deep, gravelly lovemaking voice she’d heard before. A tingle raced up her spine. It was like having a conversation with Keith Urban.

  “Because you looked right at me,” he continued, locking his gaze on hers.

  Oh lordy, those eyes. So gorgeous. His face wasn’t bad, either. Straight nose, strong, square jaw stubbled with a few days of growth. And there was an adorable faint line running down the center of his chin. Her heart started a traitorous flutter until she realized he was waiting for an answer, then the flutter turned violent.

  “Um.” She studied her hands, worry boiling up. “I saw you. Of course I saw you. I was just…a little panicked, that’s all.” If she told him the truth, that she couldn’t control the panic, that it crashed over her and dragged her into a riptide of confusion, he’d start asking more questions.

  “A little panicked?” Sawyer shot back.

  “Well, can you blame me?” Her heart thumped in her ears. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be hiding in the pantry—”

  “Hiding?” Sawyer laughed. “Why would I be hiding in the pantry? Bryce asked me to fix the shelves while he was gone.”

  She shot to her feet. “At five o’clock in the morning?”

  He was slower to get up but at least he wasn’t grimacing anymore. “I’m on shift at eight.”

  Panic started to pump through her again, but this time it had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way he looked at her, the way his gaze drifted down her body. She crossed her arms so he couldn’t guess her cup size. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

  Sawyer casually leaned against the kitchen counter, still looking her over like he appreciated what he saw. “I have a key. I’m staying here.”

  The room whirled. Not what she’d hoped to hear. That was bad. Very, very bad. It had been hard enough to avoid him before, but if he stayed there, it’d be impossible! “I thought you were moving to Denver,” she said, going for a casual, conversational tone. Damn the squeak of panic.

  He shrugged. “The house sold faster than I thought. I still have a month left at work.”

  Fabulous. That was just her luck. The last thing she needed was a cop poking around the Walker Mountain Ranch.

  “So what’s with the panic attack?” he asked again, sounding more like a cop this time.

  She busied herself with unpacking the rest of the kitchen utensils from her bag. “Whadda you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. I know what a panic attack looks like, Ruby.”

  “It wasn’t a panic attack,” she insisted, then focused on lining up her measuring cups so he couldn’t read the flush on her face. “I was surprised. That’s all. No big deal.” She peeked over at him.

  His eyes were narrowed into skepticism. “Do you hyperventilate every time you’re surprised?”

  No. But she was about to hyperventilate right now. “Why do I feel like you’re interrogating me?” she demanded in case he could see how weak she felt. Now that the adrenaline had drained away, her legs and arms felt unstable. The memories were closer, breathing down her neck. If she would’ve hit Derek with a rolling pin, he would’ve broken her jaw…

  “Ruby? Is everything okay?” Sawyer asked quietly.

  Crumpling the market bag in her shaky hands, she turned and smiled. “Everything’s great.” She’d learned how to lie, how to cover up the truth with a smile. “I’m so sorry about your…” The blush made a strong comeback. “Um…do you want ice or anything?”

  A smirk made him look less guarded. “Do I want to walk around with an icepack on my crotch? No thanks. I’ll live.”

  “Okay.” She sashayed past him like nothing had happened, like her stomach hadn’t tightened into a painful knot. “I should get to work, then.”

  “You’re sure everything’s okay?” Sawyer called behind her.

  “Of course.” She unstacked the stainless mixing bowls from the shelf above the sink.

  “All right, then. Guess I’ll get back to work, too,” he said slowly. The pantry door opened then clicked shut.

  But something told her that wasn’t the end of the conversation.

  Please see the next page for an excerpt from the previous book in Sara Richardson’s Heart of the Rockies series, and discover how Ben and Paige find their happily ever after.

  Something Like Love

  Available Now

  Chapter One

  Smile. Always smile. A smile communicates something positive in any language.

  Paige recited the adage the perky instructor had indoctrinated into her during the daylong customer service torture—training—her boss had strongly encouraged her to attend.

  Everyone is beautiful when they smile. Smiling can diffuse even the tensest situation and soften even the worst temper.

  Except she’d tried smiling all morning and it had gotten her nowhere.

  Paige ground her trusty hiking boots to a stop on the side of the trail and glanced back to evaluate her latest group of “customers,” which consisted of an overweight insurance salesman from Oklahoma, along with his painfully polite and heavily made-up wife and three teenaged boys who had zero ability to look any farther north than Paige’s chest. Yes, she happened to be well-endowed (thanks for that, Gramma Lou), but she was also wearing a sports bra that happened to be the equivalent of one of those 1800s girdles, so what was that about?

  Clomp, clomp, clomp. The group plodded up the trail a good quarter mile behind her, their cowboy boots scraping the packed dirt, metallic belt buckles glistening in the early morning sun. Not exactly ideal attire for scaling the side of a mountain to have a picnic at a lake.

  Stifling the groan that thundered somewhere far beneath her ribcage, she studied the western horizon. The granite spikes of Castle Peak loomed high above, glaciers glinting with sunlit sparkles. Against the mind-blowing blue sky, those cliffs presided over the entire valley, presided over her. Lower, the cragged slopes gave way to the forested valley, which was crowded with towering green pine and plumes of aspen groves. Where the sunlight cut through the pine needles and leaves, bright green grass sprouted like tufts of a baby’s hair, new and shiny and soft. Wildflowers of all colors carpeted the valley floor—the red Indian paintbrush, the purple asters, the yellow alpine buttercups and, her favorite, the blue columbines. Paige inhaled the calming scent of the mountain air—that perfect blend of honeysuckle and evergreen and sun-ripened dirt. The vast wilderness that stretched out on all sides of her had become her refuge. It was both terrifying and beautiful, dangerous and yet the only place she felt safe enough to be true to herself.

  Only, she wasn’t by herself. Her gaze settled back on the spectacle behind her. She’d lucked out by being the only Walker Mountain Ranch guide available to lead the Howdy Doody cast up a mountain.

  Be nice, Paige. She was trying. God, was she trying. She’d even carried Hal’s pack for most of the trip, but…

  A quick glance at her Timex sent her pulse into overdrive. Their opportunity to
make it to the lake in clear weather ticked away with each second they dragged their boots on that packed trail.

  “Hot diggity!” Hal called behind her. “Looks like it’s time for a break,” he wheezed.

  She turned. Smile, damn it. Smile. “Um, Hal…we’ve had quite a few breaks. Don’t you think?” Her boots scuffed closer to his. “Why don’t you take a sip of water and we’ll keep going? Every time we stop we’re allowing the lactic acid in our muscles to—”

  “Gals like you are a hell of a lot prettier when they’re quiet.” The man laughed. He actually laughed like he thought belittling women was some kind of joke.

  His wife, Brenda, fashioned her freshly slathered red lips into an apologetic smile, a silent I know, I know. He’s hopeless.

  Disgust rippled Paige’s lips into what her mother called a sour expression. Those faces will give you wrinkles, Paige. Who cared about wrinkles? This man was about to give her an aneurysm. Not only was he insulting her, they’d also been on the trail for about two hours and had maybe gone one mile. Seeing as how the entire trail up to the lake was only three and a half miles, it should’ve been a cakewalk, but Hal might as well have been scaling Mount Everest. About every tenth of a mile, he’d stop and double over and guzzle about a quart of water and Paige would have to wander away a couple steps before she blurted out the question that hammered her brain. Why had he booked a hiking trip when he could’ve taken the damn shuttle to the lake?

  Miss Customer Service Trainer would definitely not approve.

  It is never, ever, under any circumstances okay to curse in front of a customer.

  Who the hell was that lady kidding? They were in the wilderness, for Mona Lisa’s sake! There were no “customers” out here. Only survivors. There was a reason she barked out orders and pushed her clients to the edges of their physical limits. Not because she enjoyed being a drill sergeant. When she met these people, when she shook their hands and looked at the eager faces, into their bright, expectant eyes, she made them a silent promise. I will keep you safe. She added their wellbeing to the weight stuffed in her pack. Things out here could change in the shift of the wind, in the slip of a boot. She knew that better than anyone.