The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride

by Jill Kemerer

  Clint swept all of the tiny bits of onion, celery and sage into a large bowl. “What would you do if she was hiding something?”

  “My company comes first. If Natalie doesn’t know that by now... Forget it. It doesn’t matter, because she’s honest with me. Like I said, the other night messed with my head.” She wiped her hands on a paper towel. “What do I do now?”

  His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was hiding something, too.

  Don’t look for the worst in everyone.

  “Cut them into small pieces and put them in here.” He pointed to a large pot.

  Lexi cut the potatoes up in chunks, mentally chastising herself. He was a hard worker, a great ranch manager. He’d gone to the trouble of buying this food, and he was teaching her how to cook it. The idea Clint was hiding something from her was laughable.

  She’d nip this suspiciousness in the bud. It wasn’t her style. If she couldn’t trust the people she worked closely with, she didn’t know what she would do.

  * * *

  He couldn’t remember a Thanksgiving dinner he’d enjoyed more. Even the delicious feasts Dottie Lavert used to cook at Yearling Group Home didn’t compare to this. It wasn’t that the food tasted better, although it was delicious. Today was the first time he’d felt like he belonged somewhere on Thanksgiving.

  “Dinner was yummy.” Lexi closed the door to the dishwasher and pressed the start button. “I’m stuffed. As much as I want pumpkin pie, I think I need to wait awhile for dessert.”

  “Same here.” Now what? Dinner was over, so should he leave? Then he remembered the faucet. “I’ll finish fixing the leak in your faucet, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about the faucet.” She waved dismissively. “And you’re not in my hair.”

  She didn’t seem in a rush to get rid of him, but now that she’d mentioned hair, he found himself mesmerized by her silky dark waves. His thoughts detoured to a less professional place than he’d prefer. “It’s no trouble. I’ll fix it now.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after tightening the faucet’s adjusting ring, he returned to the living room, where Christmas music played.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re all set. Thanks for having me.”

  “Wait.” She sprang to her feet, her eyes darting back and forth. “I have another favor to ask, but you don’t have to say yes.”

  “What is it?” He wanted to stay. Liked being here with her. The Christmas music reminded him of movies he used to watch with happy families celebrating the holidays. Hanging out with her, listening to the music, almost made him believe he could experience a taste of the happy Christmas feeling, too.

  “Would you help me bring down our Christmas tree? It’s in the garage attic with the other decorations. I can pull the bins out myself, but the tree is heavy.”

  “I’ll bring it down.” A surge of masculine pride filled his chest. It was nice to be needed for something.

  On the way to the garage, Lexi chattered about old decorations and the pink lights she’d ordered for her tree in Denver. Pink lights? Sounded like Lexi. He climbed the attic ladder first, tugging on the lightbulb string when he reached the top. Lexi bumped into him on her way up, and he moved to the side, steadying her.

  Standing so close to her messed with his head. Warm, feminine, smelling fantastic—she was special, all right.

  “I think the decorations are over here. It’s been years since I helped decorate, and I never had to bring them down. Daddy might have moved them.” Carefully, she made her way to the corner, where shelves held bins and boxes. “Wow, I can’t believe all this is here. My mom used to plan themed trees. She got such a kick out of picking the perfect ornaments and color schemes. These boxes—” she turned to him, her eyes shining “—they’re all her Christmas tree themes. Daddy must have saved them. Oh, there’s what I was looking for!”

  “Which one?” He saw four long boxes clearly marked as artificial trees.

  “On the top. It’s prelit. He bought it a few years ago. Why he hung on to the old trees is a mystery.”

  Clint took the long box by the handles and effortlessly brought it down the ladder and back to the living room. Lexi followed with a plastic bin. Back and forth, they brought down all the boxes she wanted.

  “Thank you so much.” She wiped dust off her sweater. “When do you usually decorate? Thanksgiving weekend is my favorite time.”

  “I, uh—” he massaged the back of his neck “—I don’t decorate.”

  She gaped at him. “What do you mean you don’t decorate?”

  “Well, I don’t see much point.” Why did he feel like a high school freshman about to fail an important math test? “I don’t entertain.”

  “But it’s not just for entertaining. It’s for you to enjoy. To capture the glorious spirit of Christmas.”

  Glorious? Christmas had never been very good for him.

  “I have a great idea. Let’s go decorate your cabin.” She gestured to the garage. “We have extra trees. And I know the perfect decorations for you. Mom went through a cowboy Christmas stage when I was in middle school. I saw the boxes up there.”

  “What? No. What are you doing?” She had already disappeared down the hall. He tried again. “I don’t see the point—”

  “This is what I do. I love to decorate. You’re going to be thrilled with the results!” She looked back over her shoulder at him and winked.

  The wink shut him up. He never knew what he was in for when he spent time with Lexi Harrington. One thing he’d learned? If she got something in her head, he might as well play along, because she did not let go of an idea easily.

  They spent the next half hour piling the boxes on the bed of the truck. The wind was blowing, and it was cold out, but it wasn’t snowing. As he drove them to his cabin, he kept glancing over at her. She wore a red stocking hat with a pom-pom on top, matching red scarf and a black jacket. Her cheeks were flushed.

  When they arrived at his cabin, he hauled two boxes into the living room.

  “First, let’s get some music cranking.” She set a small speaker on the counter and found a Christmas playlist on her phone. Then she unwound her scarf, brought her palms together and pointed to the living room with them. “Okay, think about where you want the tree.”

  “You decide. I’ll get the boxes.” He had to escape. Having her in his cabin made the atmosphere too cozy. Outside he breathed in the crisp, cold air and yanked two boxes from the truck. Then he set them next to the fireplace and repeated the process with the artificial tree.

  Lexi stood behind the couch, facing the window and holding her hands up as if creating a picture frame. “Is that everything?”

  He nodded, stripping off his gloves and coat.

  “The tree would look really good right in front of the window here, and you’ll be able to see the lights from outside.”

  “Whatever.” He didn’t mean to sound uninterested or gruff, but he wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to having a woman in his space or someone caring enough to help him decorate his home. He wasn’t used to trimming Christmas trees or listening to merry music with a pretty girl. He couldn’t think straight.

  He was ready to tell her he could decorate it himself, but she was already on her knees, digging through one of the boxes.

  “This is the one time I’m actually glad my dad wouldn’t get rid of anything.” She held an extension cord up triumphantly. “There’s a timer for the lights in here, too.” She pulled out colored lights and other odds and ends. “Why don’t you start putting the tree together—over there—and I’ll organize all the decorations.”

  Clint scratched his chin. He’d never put a tree together, but it couldn’t be too hard. With a shrug, he opened the box and began to stack individual branches of fake balsam on the floor. �
��Where are the directions?”

  “There should be colors painted on the ends of each branch. Put the poles together, then stick the branches in the colored sections. It’s easier if you start from the bottom. And fluff the branches as you go.”

  He sighed and did as he was told. As the tree took shape, he stopped telling himself having Lexi here was a big mistake. Maybe it was the upbeat country version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” or the seven-foot tree before him. Whatever it was, he wanted the festive feeling to last.

  “Nice job.” Lexi stood next to him, and he was aware of her in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be previously. She wasn’t short, but she was shorter than him. Slender, too. And everything about her seemed to sparkle—from her shiny hair to her red-and-white-striped socks. “Let’s wrap a few strands of lights around this. Then we can do the fun part.”

  The fun part? Having her here was fun. He doubted it could get better.

  They draped and tucked the lights around the branches of the tree, getting tangled a few times in the process, but before long, the tree was lit. Lexi set the timer to go on at five every night and to turn off at midnight. Then she plugged it in.

  “Ooh...it’s pretty.” Her hands were on her hips, and a soft smile played on her lips.

  “It sure is.” He hoped she didn’t know he was talking about her. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

  “Let’s get the horseshoes and lassos on here.” She clapped her hands and grabbed a pile of miniature lassos with red bows on top.

  He squinted at the other piles. Horseshoe ornaments, mini cowboy hats and—“What are the red bandannas for?”

  “We’ll tie them to the ends of some of the branches.” She peeked from around the tree, where she was on her tiptoes hooking an ornament.

  “Here, let me.” He sidled up next to her, gently taking the ornament from her hand and placing it near the top of the tree. Sensing her sharp intake of breath, he stepped back quickly. Didn’t want to crowd her or make her uncomfortable. Plus, he had a prickly feeling, as if he might do something weird, like touch her hair. “I’ll put the horseshoes up.”

  He kept his distance as they continued decorating.

  “I’ve saved the best for last.” Lexi plucked something out of a bin and hid it behind her back. “Are you ready for this?”

  “What is it?” What was she up to now?

  She held out a straw cowboy hat. “It’s the tree topper. Go ahead, put it on top.”

  He laughed. “I might not know much about decorating, but I’ve never heard of a cowboy hat on top. Isn’t it supposed to be a star?”

  “Not on a cowboy Christmas tree. The hat is the finishing touch.” She grinned, holding it out to him.

  Smiling, he shook his head and set it up top.

  They stepped back to survey their work. He never would have thought of decorating a tree with lassos and horseshoes. With the colored lights, cowboy ornaments and red bandannas tied here and there, it represented him and all he stood for. Something shifted inside him. Softened his heart.

  It was his first Christmas tree, and it suited him perfectly. And it was all because of Lexi.

  She turned to him, holding up her hand. “Nice work, Romine.”

  He high-fived her, wanting to express how much this day meant to him but not knowing how. “Wouldn’t have happened without you, boss.”

  “Come on. Pumpkin pie is waiting for us.”

  Pumpkin pie, Christmas decorating, laughter and music? He’d better not get used to this. The illusion of home had devastated him too many times in the past. He couldn’t handle losing another one.

  Chapter Five

  Lexi craved a good sermon and familiar hymns. She couldn’t face her problems alone anymore, and that meant spending more time with God. The good sermon and hymns were easy to find in the postcard-worthy church just outside Sweet Dreams. The spending more time with God, on the other hand, couldn’t be rushed.

  She made her way up the church aisle. Glancing to her left, she caught sight of Clint. In a button-down shirt and dark jeans, he looked right at home. Her spirits lifted. Whenever he was around, her loneliness eased. She scooted down the pew and sat next to him. He smelled masculine, like aftershave. “I didn’t know you went to church here.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” He craned his neck to take in the people behind them.

  “Good point.” She opened the service bulletin, ridiculously grateful he was here. The thought of attending church with him every week appealed. “There’s no sense in both of us driving. Next time, we should carpool.”

  A frown was his reply.

  “I merely mentioned it to save gas,” she whispered. It wasn’t as if she was asking him to donate a kidney. She didn’t like driving on icy roads, nor did she enjoy trying to control her car when the high winds blew. It wasn’t because she craved his company or anything. “It’s silly to take two vehicles.”

  Again, he didn’t make a peep. The man was very independent, which was a nice way to say stubborn. She pursed her lips. Okay, maybe she did crave his company, but she wouldn’t beg.

  The service started, and she forced her attention away from Clint to sing the opening hymn.

  The pastor rose. “Today’s sermon text comes from the Gospel according to John, chapter fourteen. The night before He was crucified, Jesus comforted His disciples, telling them, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in Me. My Father’s house has many rooms...’”

  Lexi straightened. Her heart was troubled. The past two months had brought a lot of anxiety into her life. Just because she believed in Jesus didn’t mean she’d never worry, did it?

  “He wanted the disciples to understand that this world and its problems are fleeting. We have an eternal home waiting for us. A room prepared in our Father’s house.”

  Daddy was in one of those rooms. Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes, wishing she could talk to him. What would she say? Why didn’t you tell me the instant you found out about the cancer? Why did you keep it from me? I had no idea you were sick and going to die. We would have gone to specialists and gotten you treatment.

  Even her imaginary conversations with Daddy were full of judgment and finger-pointing. If she had another chance to talk to him, would she really waste it reprimanding him?

  “Are you okay?” Clint whispered.

  Only then did she realize she’d rolled her bulletin into a tight scroll and her knuckles had turned white as she gripped it.

  “I’m fine.”

  The service continued, and she kept hearing the words Do not let your hearts be troubled. Her heart was a tangled mess. How could it not be?

  She tried to concentrate on the service. By the time the collection plate was being passed around, she realized her dreams were changing. What used to be her passion—Weddings by Alexandra—felt more like a burden. She lowered her head, her heart shrinking. Who was she without her company? Without her father?

  Lord, I don’t know who I am anymore.

  The congregation rose. “Our Father...”

  Lexi recited the prayer, the words hitting her. She was God’s child. She braced her hands against the top of the pew. Lord, thank You for reminding me I’m Yours. I’ll always be Yours. Everything else can be taken from me, but no one can take You from me.

  After another hymn, everyone filed out. Clint took her by the elbow as they emerged into the winter air. His simple touch almost undid her.

  “I’ll drive next week.” He tipped his hat to her and strode away.

  With her hands in her coat pockets, she watched him until he got into his truck. He’d been exactly what she’d needed ever since she hired him. Thank You, God, for sending Clint when I needed someone to depend on.

  “I thought I saw you inside.”
Amy Deerson approached. “Are you busy? Want to have breakfast with me?”

  “I would love to have breakfast with you.” Lexi unzipped her purse to find her keys. “Just what I need right now.”

  Amy beamed. “We can eat out or have scones and coffee at my place.”

  “Scones would be amazing.”

  “I live above the store. Come to the back entrance. I’ll meet you there.”

  After letting her car warm up, Lexi drove to Amy’s Quilt Shop. She entered the back of the building, climbed the steps and knocked on the wooden door, which Amy opened wide.

  “Come in.” Dark hardwood floors, tall windows and strings of Edison-style lightbulbs gave the large space a warm, modern feel. Fabrics were stacked by colors in wooden cubbies, and two sewing machines stood side by side on a long table against the wall. A large quilting frame displayed a partially finished quilt in traditional Christmas colors. Lexi had to forcibly refrain herself from touching the exquisite design.

  “Amy, this is stunning. Do you make all the quilts you sell?”

  “Most of them. I consign three other local quilters’ pieces, too.” She took plates out of a cupboard in the kitchen area opposite the work space. A round table with four chairs anchored the kitchen, and nearby a couch and love seat faced an entertainment center filled with books and a television. “Have a seat. The coffee won’t take long.”

  “How do you find the time to make quilts on top of running the store?” Lexi sat on the couch, admiring the eclectic decor. A colorful photo of horses grazing in the sunset filled an empty wall space, and unlit candles dotted the room.

  “Find time? I make time. I love quilting. Designing brings me joy.”

  What brings me joy? Lexi thought of Clint’s face after they decorated his tree. He’d seemed pleased. More than pleased—touched. Making him happy for a little while had brought her joy.

  She noticed an open sketchbook on the coffee table. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Amy closed it. “Just doodles. I can’t always find the fabric design I envision.”