The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride

by Jill Kemerer

  “How is Dottie? I haven’t seen her in years. And don’t apologize—I’m glad you finally realized you were meant to work on a ranch. The job with the oil company was killing you.”

  “It feels good spending my day in the saddle again.”

  “Boy, don’t I know that. When are you free? You should come up to Wade’s. I’ll call Marshall. It’s past time we got together.”

  “Call Marshall and get back to me. I can’t get away next week, but after that I’ll find time to drive up.”

  “Will do. I miss you. Talk to you later.” He hung up.

  Clint tossed the phone on the table and stalked to the fridge. What was going on? Nash never said things like I miss you. First he’d mentioned retiring, and then he said he missed him? Maybe the bull had tossed him on his head.

  The day they met flashed in Clint’s mind. Nash had been sitting on one of the top bunks in the room they shared with Marshall and Wade. His legs dangled over the edge of the mattress, his feet in dirty athletic shoes with a hole in one toe. Nash had taken one look at Clint and said, “You got a problem with the bottom bunk?”

  Clint had tossed his bag on the floor and replied, “No. Do you?”

  And Nash’s million-dollar smile had spread across his face. He’d hopped off the bunk, stood in front of Clint and grinned. “We’re going to be good friends, you and I.”

  Clint had never had anyone accept him like that. And Nash had been right. They were good friends. The closest thing to a family he had.

  He had a good life here. He had enough. So why couldn’t he stop wanting more?

  * * *

  “Thank you for calling me back, Dr. Lotusmeyer. I have some questions regarding my father’s health.” Lexi twirled a pen between her fingers. Since Clint left, she’d spent her time trying different napkin and flatware options until choosing three potential combinations for the wedding she was planning for June. She’d taken pictures and emailed them to her assistant, Jolene, for feedback right as the doctor called.

  “I’m sorry about your loss, Ms. Harrington.”

  “Thank you. Unfortunately, my father’s death came as a complete surprise to me. He hadn’t told me about his cancer diagnosis, and until recently, I assumed he hadn’t known, either. But I found his pathology report. It’s dated back in October. Is it normal to go from diagnosis to...well...death in such a short period of time?”

  “Cancer isn’t always predictable. Some people go into remission for years.”

  Had her father been in remission for years and she hadn’t known about that, either?

  “Was this the first time he’d been diagnosed with cancer?” She held her breath, not knowing what she wanted to hear, just certain the doctor could make this gnawing question mark in her heart go away.

  “Yes, this was the first time he was diagnosed. It’s important you mention your father’s disease to your primary physician so he or she can make sure you get the recommended health screenings.”

  A surge of relief rushed through her body at hearing this was his first diagnosis, but the information brought new questions.

  “Are you saying this could have been prevented?”

  “Not at all. But early treatment can make a big difference.”

  “Treatment. Like chemotherapy and radiation.”

  “Yes. But they don’t always work. Some patients die while being treated. Other patients live for years without treatment. It depends on the type of cancer and the overall health of the individual.”

  She really wanted to know one thing. “Was my father open to getting treatment?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  She closed her eyes, tightening her grip around the pen. How hard could it be for him to give her a simple yes or no?

  He continued. “I can tell you he had a follow-up appointment scheduled for the day after he died. I would have discussed his treatment options at that time.”

  Hope unfurled her fingers, and the pen fell to the desk. “Thank you for telling me. It... It’s a relief.”

  “It’s difficult losing someone suddenly. You’ll have to excuse me, but I have an appointment. You take care, and have a Merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you. Same to you.”

  She hung up the phone and padded out of the office to the living room. Standing before the large windows, she took in the view of the winter countryside and shivered. Her father hadn’t known about the cancer for long, and he’d made the follow-up appointment. That had to mean something, right?

  She curled her fingers around her forearms, barely noticing the softness of the cashmere sweater. Maybe he’d planned on getting treatment.

  Maybe he had planned on telling her. In his own time.

  She’d never know.

  She wished he would have trusted her enough to tell her right away.

  Lord, I’m trying to get some closure. I don’t know how. Everyone dies. I know it. But I’m struggling with all these questions. What do I do?

  The Bible on the mantel caught her eye. She took it from its spot, caressing the hard cover. Daddy had told her to read a psalm when life got tough. She flipped through, skimming until she landed on Psalm 119:76. “May Your unfailing love be my comfort, according to Your promise to Your servant.”

  Unfailing love?

  How many times had she skipped church, failed to pray, relied on herself, ignored the needs of those around her and brushed her own dad off? Too many to count.

  She dropped onto the couch as regret and shame flowed thicker than sludge through her veins. Lord, I’m sorry. I always put myself first.

  Visions of the weddings she planned flitted to her mind. Decorating Clint’s Christmas tree did, too. Okay, she didn’t always put herself first. But her motives were still selfish. She liked planning weddings and made a very good income at it. And the Christmas tree was more about having fun with Clint than anything else.

  Lord, can You really love me with an unfailing love? I don’t deserve it. Well, I guess no one does. That’s the whole reason why You came down, lived a perfect life, died and rose again. Why do I conveniently forget that part?

  Maybe she didn’t need all the answers to move forward. She couldn’t change the past, but she could pray about the future.

  Chapter Seven

  “Do you want Logan to go with you?”

  At Lexi’s innocent question, Clint pressed the accelerator. The wind was picking up, but the roads weren’t icy. They’d make it to church early, so there was no reason for him to speed up. He was just frustrated. He eased his boot from the gas pedal to slow down.

  “No, with Jerry sick, I need Logan to stay and take care of the remaining herd.” Why had Jerry come down with pneumonia at this critical time? Clint dreaded not having the older man’s expertise at the auction. Decisions would have to be made. He didn’t want the responsibility of making them.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Yes. He glanced over at her. “I thought you had a call with the senator.”

  “The senator’s daughter.” Her light brown eyes couldn’t hide the truth from him. She needed to take the call. “I don’t normally cancel, but if it would help, I’ll reschedule.”

  “No need. I’ve got this. I’ve researched current prices. I’ll check again tomorrow to see if they change, and I’ll print them out for you to review. I’m not going to sugarcoat it—prices are low.”

  Being responsible for the ranch’s future weighed on his shoulders, reminded him of his past.

  “I know. We’ll manage.”

  The white church came into view. He wished he shared Lexi’s faith that they’d manage, but he had a lot of doubts. It cost a large amount of money to run an operation the size of Rock Step Ranch, and no matter how many times he added the numbers, the bottom line l
ooked inadequate.

  He turned into the parking lot, found a spot and cut the engine. “What if the calves don’t bring enough in to cover expenses?”

  “The ranch has reserves, and I have a nest egg, Clint. I’ll use both if I have to.”

  His mind blanked.

  A nest egg.

  He’d lost one once. He could not be responsible for losing hers, too. How could she trust him like this with her future?

  Clenching his jaw, he knew what he had to do. He had to come clean and warn her that she was putting her faith in the wrong guy.

  “Lexi, I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I owned property a while back. Almost five years ago. And I made a bad decision and lost it.”

  She scooted closer and touched his hand. “I wondered about the time between jobs.”

  “I don’t know if I’m the best person to make these financial decisions.”

  “But you don’t.” Her voice was soothing. “I make them.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Look, whatever happened is in the past. Ranching is a tough business, especially for anyone just starting out. I trust you.”

  The words gripped him, made him want to believe she had reason to trust him. But she didn’t know the circumstances of how he lost his land, and he debated telling her the rest. There were three things he’d never told a living soul. One was that his grandfather had called him a worthless brat every day for the two years he’d lived with him. Another was he’d cried every night for a month after Miss Joanne moved, and he’d hated his new foster family although they were nice people. And the third was he’d known better than to make a business deal with a virtual stranger, but he’d been too greedy to say no.

  If he told his friends or Lexi any of these things, they’d see him in a different light. He’d once more become the worthless, lonely kid who didn’t deserve a home or family. The day he’d taken his last punch from the kid at the foster home was the day he’d said goodbye to his former self. He’d promised himself he’d stop hoping for the family everyone else seemed to have. He’d accepted he was alone, and he’d set out to make a life for himself no one could take away.

  But it had been taken away.

  And he’d spent four years in penance, punishing himself for becoming the worthless, undeserving kid again. Maybe that was his problem. Once more he’d found something he wanted that could be taken away, and it scared him.

  “Can we go in now?” Lexi asked.

  Her lips were glossy, her skin smooth, and she looked more rested than when they first met. He shook away his thoughts. You’re not that kid anymore, so stop acting like it.

  “Yeah, let’s go.” He’d taken some of the weight off her slender shoulders. She needed him to be strong, to get the best price for the calves, and he would do that for her. Even if his best wasn’t good enough.

  * * *

  “What is your favorite Christmas hymn?” Lexi turned slightly to face Clint after church. He was dead silent as he drove them home. The wind from earlier had grown more intense, and Lexi tried to ignore it, but the way it shook the truck made her doubly glad Clint was the one driving.

  Church had been uplifting, and her mood was buoyant ever since Clint had confided in her. He hoarded personal details of his life. She had no doubt it had been difficult for him to admit he’d lost his property. She relished the fact he’d opened up to her. While she was curious about the details, she hadn’t pressed. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her in his own time.

  “Christmas hymn? I don’t know.”

  “Come on. You must like one.”

  “Haven’t thought about it.” The words were clipped. He didn’t bother looking at her.

  Refusing to take his curtness personally, she debated how far to push him. Now that he’d opened up a little, she wanted to know more about his past. She’d assumed he’d always been single, but he never talked about it. Maybe he’d lost his land in a divorce.

  “Have you ever been married?” She held her breath, hoping he’d say no.

  He shot her a horrified glance. “No.”

  Good. “Serious girlfriend?”

  “‘Away in a Manger.’”

  She burst out laughing. “Okay, but what about my other question?”

  “You first.” His eyes gleamed with interest and...vulnerability.

  “‘Joy to the World.’”

  “And the other question?” He returned his focus to the road.

  Fair enough. If she wanted the real stuff from him, she’d have to pony it up herself.

  “No to marriage, yes to serious relationship.” She waited for the regret and sadness that flashed whenever thoughts of previous boyfriends came to mind, but they didn’t bother her today. “I dated a few guys in college. Very serious types. One was determined to be a lawyer. I got in the way of his studies, so he broke it off. The other was in the engineering program.”

  “What happened with him?”

  “Let’s just say circuits and electrical waves interested him way more than I did. Our breakup was mutual. After I graduated, I got busy with planning weddings.”

  “And you didn’t have time to date.” His matter-of-fact tone had her shaking her head.

  “I didn’t say that. I met Doug. He was an accountant. We got along well. We did things like visiting the art museum and going out for brunch. We would join mutual friends for dinner. I thought he might be the one.”

  Clint’s hands twisted around the steering wheel, and his jaw shifted.

  “But you know what? I was wrong. He wasn’t the one at all. I’ve always wanted more, and I think I was willing to settle for less.”

  “Did he ask you to marry him or something?”

  She’d thought she’d known Doug, but she’d put him on a pedestal. She’d assumed he wanted the same things she did—marriage, kids—but he hadn’t. And worst of all, she’d overlooked the fact he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. She wanted a love like her parents had—affectionate and loyal and lasting—but she also wanted someone to sweep her off her feet.

  “Not quite. We were at a restaurant. He asked me to move in with him. I told him I had no intention of living with anyone without being married. He seemed surprised, told me that a wedding would be too big of a distraction while he was working toward his CPA license. I understood. But then he grew agitated, said he really didn’t see marriage in his future and claimed I only wanted his money. I threw a dinner roll at his chest. Never saw him again.”

  Clint’s laugh was loud and unexpected. She started laughing, too, as they rumbled up the long road leading to the house.

  “He was stupid.” Clint parked the truck and turned to her. “Even I know a wedding planner doesn’t want to just live with a guy. You deserve more.”

  And just like that, something changed inside her. The switch she’d been manning with an iron hand flipped, allowing her to view him as an eligible man. A dangerous thing, indeed. She couldn’t fall for Clint. It would be awkward and end badly. He was her employee.

  “What do you look for in a girl?”

  “Nothing. I don’t... I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Why? Did someone break your heart?”

  “I never had a heart to break.”

  She pushed down her disappointment. She should be happy. He’d said the exact the words she needed to hear. She always fell for the reserved ones, ignoring the fact they were emotionally unavailable. She did have a heart to break. And Clint wouldn’t be the one to break it, not if she kept her head on straight.

  * * *

  Thursday morning Clint sat on his couch, mindlessly petting Banjo, who had curled up next to him. He’d made a habit out of sitting for a while in front of the Christmas tree. He l
iked the peaceful feeling it gave him. After helping Logan feed the cattle this morning, he’d come back here to get his thoughts straight before his weekly meeting with Lexi. Yesterday’s sale had gone as expected. Low prices.

  Had he missed something? Was there anything he could have done to sell the calves for more money? After the meeting, he was going to ride out and check as many pregnant cows as possible. He would do his best to make sure next year’s calves were born healthy.

  He bundled up and headed to Lexi’s with Banjo on his heels. For the fifteenth time this week, his conversation with Lexi on the way home from church came to mind. The fact she’d had serious boyfriends hadn’t surprised him, but his reaction at hearing about them had.

  He’d been jealous.

  Worse, he’d gotten mad at this Doug character, and he hadn’t even met him. Boy, he would have liked to have seen the look on the guy’s face when Lexi beaned him with a dinner roll. He chuckled.

  When she’d asked him if someone had broken his heart, he’d answered truthfully. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn’t actually true. His heart had been broken, but not by a woman. By Devon Fields, the man who stole his land and money. From the time he was thirteen, Clint had only ever allowed himself to want one thing, and when it was taken from him, he’d fenced in his heart, the way he fenced in pastures. It was better for him not to want too much. For his own protection.

  But Lexi... How did she do it? Give her heart out freely? Wear optimism and faith in mankind on her sleeve even when she had reasons not to? Her dad’s betrayal could have shut her down, made her paranoid and petty. The ex-boyfriends could have made her doubt love.

  Somehow, he knew she still was open to love.

  And she should be. She should have a wedding with pink silk and gobs of flowers and fancy tables and whatever else she put together for all those other couples.

  He reached the path to her house. “Banjo, go to the barn.” He pointed to the barn, and Banjo loped away.

  Two minutes later Clint approached Lexi’s office. The room was more girlie than it had ever been, and that was saying something. Weird netting stuff was draped over the bookcases. A table had been set up with a white tablecloth, fine china, silverware, fancy glasses, note cards and a vase full of light pink flowers. Lexi’s back was to him, and she was tucking a black ribbon in place. She stood back, surveyed the bow, and nudged it a fraction. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she wore a dark purple sweater over tight black pants.