Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday FamilySugar Plum SeasonHer Cowboy HeroSmall-Town Fireman

by Ruth Logan Herne

“I was hoping.” He opened the door of the Whistlestop for her, and the scent of good Southern cooking spilled out into the night air. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. “That smells incredible.”

  The place was about half-full, and he led her to a booth near the back where they could talk in relative privacy. After the waitress took her order, Rachel reached across the table to take one of his hands. “Thank you, Jason. I know this must be really hard for you, after the way things ended with us.”

  Glancing down, he noticed the fingers on both her hands were bare. It hadn’t been much of a diamond, but it had been the most expensive thing he’d ever bought that didn’t have tires and a steering wheel. “Sold the ring, huh?”

  Nodding, she frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  By the misery clouding her features, he believed she meant it. Once he’d taken that in, he realized that if she kept apologizing to him, they’d both have to relive their failed engagement over and over. He saw no point in doing that, so he forced a smile. “You can quit saying you’re sorry. I forgave you a long time ago.”

  “You did?” When he nodded, she gave him a forlorn look. “How could you, when I haven’t forgiven myself?”

  The Rachel McCarron he’d known had never regretted anything. A free spirit in every sense of the word, she’d appealed to him for just that reason. Beautiful and untamed, she’d been driven by the wind to wherever she was headed next. At the time, the fact that she’d chosen to settle with him made him so proud, he’d ignored Paul’s warnings about her, along with the ones in the back of his own mind.

  At first, Jason had often pictured seeing her again, imagining what they might say to each other. As the months went by, those images had faded, and now all he felt for her was sympathy.

  Once she had her food, he smiled to ease the sorrow clouding her face. “That was a long time ago, and it’s best to leave it in the past. Now, eat up.”

  Digging into her meat loaf, she hummed in appreciation. “This is awesome! It reminds me of that great little diner in Oregon you and Paul used to take me to. Who does the cooking here?”

  “Molly Harkness. She and her husband, Bruce, have been keeping the town well fed since before I was born.”

  “Do you think they need any kitchen help?” Rachel asked after wolfing down another bite. “I could wash dishes or something.”

  Jason eyed her pregnant frame doubtfully. Slender as she usually was, he thought, all that extra weight must be murder for her to carry around. The last thing she needed was to be on her feet all day. “When’re you due?”

  “January twentieth.” Swallowing some milk, she added a wry grin. “Great way to start the new year, right?”

  “Could be.” Chewing on that for a few seconds, he had a brainstorm. “Lemme check around town, explain your situation. Maybe someone’s got some light work you could manage.”

  “Do you really think anyone here will hire me? I mean, this is your hometown. They must all know how badly I treated you.”

  More remorse, he thought. Maybe impending motherhood had forced her to mature a little and own up to her failings. Whatever the reason, it was definitely a step in the right direction. “These are good folks, and they’ve all made mistakes, too. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

  “That’s more than I could ask for,” she said with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  “The Donaldsons here on Main Street have an apartment out back in an old carriage house. Paul and Chelsea moved out when they bought their house, and it’s still empty. It’s small, but the rent’s cheap, and it’d be all yours. Plus, Hank and Lila would be nearby if you needed something.”

  “When I said I have no money, I meant none at all,” she protested meekly. “If I can’t get a job, that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

  “Let’s just ask and see what they say.” Pulling out his cell phone, he made the call and got the response he’d expected.

  “Oh, that poor thing, and at Christmastime, too. Bring her over, Jason,” Lila said without hesitation. “I’ll send Hank out to raise the heat and turn on the lights. We’ll work out the details later.”

  “Thanks, Lila. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  While he paid the check, his gut was warning him to put some distance between himself and this particular damsel in distress. Amy’s baffling reaction to Rachel’s sudden appearance kept popping into his mind, and he resolved to smooth things over with her once he got Rachel settled. Women were complex, and it was best never to lose sight of that. If that meant a longer night than usual, Jason suspected in the long run it would be easier than trying to mend fences with one woman over helping another.

  In the space of an evening, his life had gotten very complicated. He only prayed he could deal with the molehills before they became mountains.

  Jason helped Rachel into the cab of the truck he’d thought he’d never see again and climbed in beside her. The interior was a disaster, and on the rear jump seat sat a single duffel bag.

  “Have you been living in here?” he asked. When she nodded, he bit back a curse. “If I ever get my hands on Billy...”

  “Please don’t,” she whimpered, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the window. “I don’t even want to think about that nasty piece of work. I just want to curl up in a ball on a real bed and go to sleep.”

  In response, he started the truck and saw the low-fuel light was on. Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go, so he made the short drive up the street to the Donaldson place. Just as Lila had promised, the carriage house was bright and inviting when he grabbed Rachel’s bag and carefully walked her down the pathway to the front door.

  Standing in front of it, she stared at the simple cottage with large, tear-filled eyes. Then she lowered her head and folded her hands in prayer. When she was finished, she looked up at him with an awed expression. “It doesn’t seem like enough, but thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Opening the door for her, he followed her inside. “Where do you want your stuff?”

  “Anywhere,” she answered, sinking onto the bed with a weary sigh.

  Realizing she needed someone to take care of things for her, he left the bag on the floor of the single closet.

  “So, the bathroom’s through there—” he pointed “—and this is the kitchen.” When he opened the fridge, it was empty, and he frowned. “That’s not good.”

  “The story of my life.”

  This defeated young woman was nothing like the vibrant, fearless Rachel he’d once known. Hopelessness did that to people, he knew, and he searched for a way to bring back even a sliver of her old optimism. Sliding his wallet from his back pocket, he thumbed through the cash he’d taken out of his account to buy Christmas presents. Removing half of it, he set it on the tiny kitchen table.

  “I can’t take your money,” she objected instantly. “After what I did to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “It’s not for you,” he reasoned in a stern tone very unlike him. Because of his own sketchy history, there was no way he’d be backing down on this one. “It’s for your baby. You’ve got a month to go, and if it’s gonna be born healthy, you have to eat right and take care of yourself. That little one’s counting on you, and you’re in no position to choose your pride over food.”

  She gave him a wan smile. “You’re right, but I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

  She’d made promises to him before that hadn’t worked out, so he tucked this one away with a nod. If she ended up repaying him, he’d be happy. If not, he’d take it in stride. That was how things worked with Rachel; he’d learned that the hard way. She wasn’t a bad person, but she wasn’t all that reliable when it came to following through. He prayed motherhood would change that, but only time would tell.

  “The bathroom’s stocked, and the bed’s made,” he said
as he edged toward the door. “Need anything else?”

  “Just a solid night’s sleep.” Peeling back the covers, she slid beneath them and closed her eyes.

  “Then I’ll say good-night. I’ve gotta work in the morning, but I’ll make some calls during my breaks and see if anyone’s looking for help during the holidays. Sound good?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Since she was clearly too exhausted to take care of the lights, he flipped the switches, leaving the night-light in the bathroom on for her. There was a set of keys on the table, which he left for her. Setting the lock, he pulled the door shut behind him and headed back up the walkway. Inside the house, he noticed Lila standing in the kitchen window and held up his hand in thanks. She acknowledged him with a nod and turned off the light.

  Keeping an eye on him, he mused with a grin. While he hadn’t doubted their reaction to Rachel’s plight, he appreciated Hank and Lila proving his claim that the residents of Barrett’s Mill were good, helpful folks. As a single, expectant mother, Rachel needed all the grace she could get.

  After a quick debate, he decided to leave his filthy truck where it was until he could give it a thorough cleaning inside and out. When he got to Arabesque, he noticed the lights were still on and knocked at the front door.

  Stepping aside to let him in, Amy asked, “How did it go?”

  “Which part?” He grinned, hoping to ease some of the tension he heard in her voice.

  “Whichever part you want to tell me about,” she hedged, leading him back to her cozy office.

  Decorated in classical theater and ballet posters, it reminded him of old movies where a character’s luggage was plastered with stickers from other countries. As foreign to him as those faraway places, the designs were Amy’s style, wrapping up her eventful life like colorful paper on a gift.

  “I just heated water for tea,” she said as he settled into one of the threadbare velvet chairs. “Would you like some decaf coffee?”

  “That’d be great.” In less than a minute, he had a steaming mug in his hands and took a long, appreciative sip. “Delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  They traded a few more overly polite comments, and he stifled a groan. He’d gotten accustomed to the warm back-and-forth he enjoyed with Amy, and this was as far from it as he could get. It hadn’t occurred to him that his encounter with Rachel would affect Amy so much, and he resolved to set things to rights as quickly as humanly possible.

  “So,” he began, setting down his half-empty cup. “Should I start with Rachel past or Rachel present?”

  Amy shrugged, but those gorgeous blue eyes darkened ominously. He didn’t know what the color shift meant, but he instinctively didn’t like it. So he spilled the whole crazy story, from the day he first met Rachel singing at a Renaissance fair in Seattle, to their months living in Oregon, to her pulling into Barrett’s Mill in his stolen truck. When he was finished, he forced himself to smile. “So, that’s everything.”

  Without saying anything, she drank some of her tea and deliberately put her dainty china cup on its saucer next to the hefty mug she’d offered him. Pinning him with a direct stare, she asked, “How do you feel about seeing her again?”

  He suspected she was fishing for something, but he had no idea what she was after. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “She took off with a man you considered a friend, stole your truck and the ring you gave her.” To emphasize, she ticked Rachel’s sins off on her slender fingers. “Now she’s come crawling into town, asking you to help her? She’s either completely destitute or she’s got an awful lot of nerve.”

  “Actually, it’s both.”

  “Oh, Jason,” she lamented with a pained expression. “Tell me you didn’t give her any money.”

  “She’s got nothing but a duffel bag and a baby who needs to be fed somehow. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You left the truck at the Donaldsons’, didn’t you?” When he nodded, she sighed. “What’s to keep her from taking off again?”

  Feeling quite proud of himself, he reached into his pocket and dangled the keys for her to see. “Unless she’s learned how to hot-wire an ignition, she’s not going anywhere.”

  Amy’s frown gave way to a smile, and she clapped quietly. “Very well played.”

  “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all month.” They both laughed, and he was relieved to have gotten through the tough part. “So are we okay?”

  Tilting her head, she studied him through narrowed eyes. He knew her wariness was driven by Devon’s betrayal and not anything Jason had done, but it still bugged him. Someday, he hoped he’d see nothing but joy in those stunning blue eyes of hers. “I’ll be honest—I’m not crazy about this whole scenario. But I admire you for stepping up to give a hand to someone who seems to have no one else to turn to.”

  She didn’t trust Rachel, he realized. For some reason, the fact that Amy was so protective of him made him feel incredible. People assumed a big, strong guy like him could take care of himself, and aside from his family, no one worried about him all that much. Tiny as she was, he’d gained a sincere respect for how formidable an opponent Amy could be when she put her mind to it.

  “There’s nothing to admire in this,” he corrected her. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Just don’t let her take advantage of you like she did before,” Amy warned him with a stern look. “I might have to hurt her.”

  Her threat made him chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I’m serious, you big oaf. Women like Rachel sail through life wrapping men around their little fingers and gouging them for everything they’ve got. Then, when the mood strikes, poof!” She illustrated her point with an intricate waving of fingers that was easy to interpret.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, too,” Jason assured her as they both stood. “It sure is comforting to know you’ve got my back.”

  “Someone needs to watch out for you.” She gave him an indulgent smile. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

  “Guess I wouldn’t last long in the big city, huh?”

  “Half an hour, tops.”

  Gazing down at her, he took in the intelligence sparkling in her eyes, the set of her delicate jaw. She might look as if she was made of porcelain, but under all that polish ran a streak of steely determination that appealed to him just as much. “Then it’s a good thing you ended up here. Otherwise we never would’ve met.”

  Smiling, he reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair back into her loose ponytail. The motion took his fingers across her soft skin, and he cradled her cheek in his hand. Because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips. That brief connection to her did something strange to his heart, which suddenly felt as if it meant to pound its way out of his chest.

  Startled by the intensity of his reaction to her, he pulled back and watched her eyes blink open with the same bewildered look he must be wearing. Assuming he’d pushed too far too fast, he stammered, “Amy, I’m s—”

  She cut off his apology by pulling him in for another, much longer kiss. For a few moments, he rode that wave of emotions, gathering her in, savoring the way her slender frame fit against him. Then, because he was a gentleman, he drew away and held her at arm’s length.

  Figuring humor would give him the best exit, he said, “Thanks for the coffee.”

  That got him the laugh he’d been hoping for, and she waved him off. “You’re welcome. And if anyone asks, it was the mistletoe.”

  She pointed at the kissing ball dangling from the ceiling, but he still didn’t know what she was referring to. Then he noticed the bare window that looked into her office. It didn’t take a genius to know some busybody had seen that kiss and was quickly spreading the word. “Gotcha. ’Night, Amy.”

  He wa
s on his way out the door when she said, “Sweet dreams, Sir Galahad.”

  Flattening his palm on the doorjamb, he poked his head back in. “What? I’m not Lancelot?”

  “His affair with Guinevere destroyed Arthur and then Camelot,” she explained. “Galahad was known for pure gallantry, expecting nothing in return. That’s you.”

  He’d gotten his share of compliments from women over the years, but none had the impact of this one. “I had no idea you saw me that way.”

  “I know.” Shaking her head, she gave him an approving smile. “That’s what makes you so special.”

  Amy thought he was special, Jason mused as he let himself out the studio door. Replaying the kiss that had nearly knocked him over, he couldn’t help grinning as he strolled toward his grandparents’ house. He’d never really considered himself anything out of the ordinary, but Amy had seen a lot more of the world than he had. Not to mention, she’d come into contact with more people, not all of them nice. That was where her cynicism came from, he realized. The fact that a small-town boy like him had captured her interest was incredibly flattering.

  Then again, Devon had been one of those worldly guys she’d known, and he’d let her down in the worst way imaginable. Abandoning someone who needed you was something Jason simply couldn’t understand. As he arrived home, he made a silent vow.

  Whatever happened between Amy and him, he’d always put her wishes before his own. No matter how much it might hurt.

  Chapter Eight

  “Tell me everything,” Brenda insisted before Amy had even sat down for their pre-Christmas shopping breakfast. “Don’t leave anything out.”

  “There’s really not much to tell,” Amy hedged, opening the menu hoping to appear nonchalant. “Rachel McCarron drove into town last night on fumes.”

  “And bursting at the seams,” Brenda supplied helpfully.

  As she stacked her hands and rested her chin on them, Amy’s eyes were drawn to the rings on her left hand. They weren’t flashy, but the gold and modest diamond setting caught the overhead lights in a pretty display. Amy had only gotten half a set herself, and she’d felt compelled to return the diamond when her engagement ended. Rachel hadn’t, though, she groused silently. According to Jason, she’d sold it at a pawnshop somewhere in Colorado.