Holding Out for Christmas

by Janet Dailey

  Megan shook her head. From where she was standing, the two massive gray beasts looked as big as elephants. “I’m a city girl,” she said. “I’m not sure—”

  “Come on, you’ll be fine.” With his arm around her shoulders, he guided her into the nearest stall. She could hear the sound of the horse’s teeth, chewing and grinding as it munched the oats in its feeder. “This is Chip. He’s just a big baby, and he loves his rubdown. Here. Take the towel like this.” He guided the towel in her hand over the horse’s back. She felt a shudder of pleasure beneath her palm.

  “Oh . . .” Megan breathed.

  “See, he likes it,” Conner said. “We have to dry the horses off when we put them away, or they might get sick. Now try it alone . . . See, you’re doing great. Go ahead and rub him down while I take care of his brother. If you get nervous, or have any questions, call me. I’ll be right in the next stall.”

  Trying not to shake, Megan continued rubbing the moisture from the horse’s satiny coat. “There, Chip . . . Take it easy . . .” She murmured the words to the horse, but she was really talking to herself. Every time the huge animal snorted or flinched, she wanted to leap out of the stall. But as she worked, the task became easy, even pleasant.

  “Good job.” Conner stood at the entrance of the stall, watching her. “I was almost getting jealous of the horse.”

  Megan was grateful that the shadows hid the blush that crept into her face. “Are we finished?”

  “We are. Hand me that towel, and we’ll call it a good day.”

  “So I can go?” She passed him the damp towel as she left the stall. He tossed it into a nearby laundry basket and closed the stall gate behind her.

  “You could’ve gone anytime, Megan. But I was hoping you’d stay. I’m glad you did. Come here.”

  Reaching out, he caught her hand and pulled her toward him. Megan went without resisting. She knew that he meant to kiss her, and she knew that she’d wanted it to happen. Wasn’t that why she’d stayed for so long?

  “Take a chance. ”

  His arms claimed her, pulling her close. He’d kissed her once before—a chaste and gentlemanly kiss that had burned like a slow flame through her senses. This kiss was as different as a sweeping storm from an afternoon breeze—dizzying in its power, opening floodgates of response. With a low whimper of need, she molded her body to his. Her fingers raked his hair, pulling him down to her, deepening the intimacy between them.

  “Damn it, Megan . . .” His lips nibbled hers, his voice rough in his throat. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day. It’s been driving me crazy.”

  Me too. She stopped herself from speaking the words. The common sense that had guided her life was pulling her back to reality. Kissing Conner was as thrilling as a wild carnival ride, but she could feel that ride spinning out of control. With an empty house beyond the barn door, the possibilities were dangerously tempting.

  Leave now, she told herself. Leave while you still can.

  She stiffened slightly in his arms, but before she could speak, he ended the kiss and eased her gently away from him. “Something tells me that it’s time to walk you to your car,” he said.

  She managed a shaky laugh. “Something tells me the same thing. I need to be getting home.”

  Bucket trailed them outside, then left them to head for the shelter of the porch. Conner walked Megan to her Toyota, took the key from her hand, and opened the driver’s door, lighting the inside of the car. “How’s six o’clock tomorrow for dinner? I’ll make reservations.”

  “That should be fine.” Megan had wondered whether he’d mention their torrid kiss. But he was behaving as if it had never happened. Maybe he was having second thoughts. Maybe he was going to give her his “Let’s just be friends” speech.

  Fine. If he could play it cool, so could she.

  Megan was about to shut the car door and leave, but he bent close, a mischievous smile on his face.

  “To be continued,” he said, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “Have a safe drive home.”

  * * *

  By the time Megan walked in the front door of her family’s house, her parents had retired to their room. Daniel was in the kitchen. Dressed in his flannel robe and pajamas, he was dunking chocolate chip cookies in milk.

  “Did you have a good time today?” Megan asked him, although the answer was written all over his face.

  “I had a great time!” His grin widened. “Hanging out with Clara and Bucket, meeting people, eating pizza—and Rush took me and Clara to Buckaroo’s on the way home. It was one of the best days ever. Can I go again tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Christmas Tree Ranch will be closed that day. And on Monday, you’ll be going back to the clinic to get your shoulder checked. If it’s all right, you can go back to work at Shop Mart.”

  His face fell. “So I might not get to work at the ranch again.”

  “Maybe not. Just be glad you had such a good time.” Best not get his hopes up, Megan reminded herself. When she went back to Nashville and her budding relationship with Conner ended, Daniel’s time with his new ranch friends would most likely be over.

  Daniel sighed, then brightened. “Well, at least I’ll get to see Katy at work.”

  “Yes, you will.” Megan was about to say more, when her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse, which had been locked in her car most of the day.

  “Hi, Derek.” The caller was no surprise. She stepped into the hallway, out of Daniel’s hearing.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” he complained. “What’s going on, Megan? Why wouldn’t you pick up?”

  Megan suppressed a sigh. Back in Nashville, Derek had been the ideal boyfriend—attentive and considerate. Until she’d left him to spend the holidays here, she hadn’t realized how needy the man could be.

  “I was helping Daniel sell Christmas trees,” she said. “My phone was turned off and locked in the car. Honestly, Derek, I’m not one of your students. You don’t need to track my every move.”

  “Oh, I know,” he said. “It’s just that I miss you so much. I feel lost without you. And I worry.”

  “No need for that. Everything’s fine.”

  “And you’ll be back here for New Year’s Eve, won’t you?” he asked. “I’ve got a special surprise planned.”

  “We’ll talk about that later, okay? Right now, I’m exhausted. I need to get ready for bed. We can talk tomorrow. And don’t worry about calling me. I’ll call you. Bye now.”

  Megan slumped against the wall, the memory of Conner’s kiss sweeping over her like a tide of hot lava. In the light of her blazing response, only one thing was certain. She was in no condition to marry Derek—or anybody else. Not when her common sense was being overrun by a wild stampede of raging hormones.

  And not when all she could think of was kissing the charming cowboy again.

  It wasn’t hard to guess that Derek was planning to propose on New Year’s Eve. Stringing him along until then would be cruel. She needed to break up with him—the sooner, the better. As her school principal, he was her boss. That would make things more complicated, but she couldn’t let it stop her.

  She’d promised to call Derek tomorrow. That would be the time to end things between them, before Conner picked her up for dinner. Derek was bound to be hurt, even angry, and she could expect him to pile on the guilt. But that couldn’t be allowed to matter. It had to be done.

  * * *

  When Conner woke up the next morning, Travis’s coat was on the rack, and his boots were by the stove. The muted sound of snoring came from under his bedroom door.

  Conner let Bucket out and went to the barn to feed and water the horses. He returned to the house to find Travis seated at the table in his robe, drinking coffee.

  “Hey, I was going to let you sleep,” Conner said. “But as long as you’re up, how did things go with Maggie last night?”

  Travis gave him a crooked smile. His hair was mussed, his eyes bloodshot. “About
how you’d expect. The wedding’s set for December twenty-second, two days after the Christmas Ball, in the Community Church, with as many folks as the place will hold. There’ll be a reception afterward in the social hall. We agreed to cancel the live band, but there’ll be a cake cutting and a bouquet toss, and, yes, you and I will be renting tuxes. Maggie will need your measurements so she can call in the order. She’s not trusting me to do it.”

  Conner chuckled. “Told you.”

  “I know.” Travis sighed and refilled his coffee mug. “Whatever Maggie wants is fine, as long as it makes her happy.”

  “What about the honeymoon?”

  “That’s going to be my big surprise. Maggie doesn’t know it, but I’ve already bought the tickets. We’ll be spending Christmas in Hawaii.”

  “Wow!” Conner said.

  “You’ll be alone here—unless you can find somebody besides Bucket to keep your bed warm. Speaking of that, will you be seeing Megan again?”

  “We’ve got a dinner date this evening. So far, so good.”

  “Megan’s a sharp gal,” Travis said. “But I know . . . she’s not your dream woman.”

  Conner almost choked to keep from blurting out the truth. For now, it was best kept a secret.

  “I haven’t forgotten our bet,” Travis said. “Fifty bucks to you if she shows up, another fifty if you get to meet her.”

  “Want to raise the stakes?” Conner teased.

  But Travis shook his head. “Did I hear earlier that Megan wouldn’t be going?”

  “That’s right. She said she had other plans.”

  “Maybe Megan just doesn’t want to compete with your gypsy-eyed dream goddess.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m not worried.” Conner was enjoying this.

  “Well, you should be. It would serve you right if Megan showed you the gate. You’re a damn fool to risk losing her for some female you’ve never even met. Hell, for all you know, that sexy singer could be some guy in drag. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll laugh myself sick.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Conner said, masking a grin. “You’ll see.”

  “You’re an idiot.” Travis rose and put his empty cup in the sink. “Since you won’t listen to reason, I’m going to clean up and go back to Maggie’s. She has this checklist she wants me to go over—stuff that needs to be done before the wedding. I still wish we could just elope, but you know Maggie.”

  “I do, and you’re a smart man to go along with her plans,” Conner said. “You’re a lucky man, too. Maggie’s one in a million.”

  “Don’t I know it?” Travis lumbered down the hall and into the bathroom. Moments later, Conner heard the shower running. He didn’t look forward to living here alone after the wedding. His partners would be here during work hours. But he’d miss watching late-night sports and movies, hearing about their love lives, sharing meals and cold beer, and the horseplay that made them all laugh, even when times were tough.

  Maybe he could fix the place up in his spare time. A few gallons of paint, some updated plumbing, and central heating would do wonders. The three partners owned the house together, but surely Travis and Rush wouldn’t mind, especially if he put up most of the money and did the work.

  Maybe if he got the house livable, it would be easier asking a woman to share it. Maybe even a woman like Megan.

  But he was getting ahead of himself now. He liked Megan, more than a lot. But it was far too soon to make her part of his plans. Besides, she’d told him she had a boyfriend—although she sure as blazes didn’t kiss like it. And there was the little matter of the secret she was keeping from him, and the one he was keeping from her.

  Secrets were poison in a relationship. They tended to fester like splinters. And lies were even worse. Sooner or later, if he wanted to continue seeing Megan, he would have to come clean and insist that she do the same. But what if it was already too late? What if the truth would only drive them apart?

  * * *

  Megan’s hand quivered as she laid the phone on the bed. She had done it. She had broken up with Derek.

  She’d known it would be hard, and it had been—like slapping a faithful dog. He had been so surprised, so stunned, refusing to believe her at first, then demanding answers.

  “Why? What have I done wrong?”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong,” she’d answered as calmly as she could. “I’ve just come to realize that you and I don’t want the same things.”

  “But I love you, Megan.”

  “I know. But it takes two people in love to make that work. And I don’t love you. Not enough, at least.”

  She’d almost ended the call right then, but he’d had one more question. “What about school? How can we continue to work together?”

  “I can manage it if you can. If not, I’ll look for another job. Good-bye, Derek. I wish you well. Please don’t call me again.”

  At that point, she’d ended the call. But as the phone lay on her bed, it began to ring again. Derek. Before the call could go to voicemail, she switched the phone off. She was being cruel, she knew. But niceness would only encourage him.

  If Derek was going to be difficult, it might be a good idea to resign from her teaching job and look for something else—maybe something right here in Branding Iron. Her family would like that. But if she left Nashville, she’d be giving up all hope of a big-time singing career.

  “She wasn’t bad. Maybe not Grand Ole Opry material, but I think everybody enjoyed her.”

  Rush’s innocent words, spoken over the dinner table at Maggie’s, echoed in her memory. What if he was right? What if she wasn’t good enough—and never would be?

  Only one thing was certain. She had a lot of thinking to do—thinking that demanded a cool, clear head. And right now, she was too emotional for decision making.

  She glanced at her bedside clock. Conner wouldn’t be coming to pick her up for a couple of hours. Her mother was working. Daniel and her father were watching football on TV. She had some rare time to herself.

  Rising, she took her old guitar out of its place in the corner. She’d started a song in her head on the drive from Nashville. But she had yet to get all the words down or set them to music. As long as she had the time, maybe the right ideas would come to her.

  After tightening the strings to tune them, she sat on a stool and began strumming a few chords.

  * * *

  At 5:45, when Conner rang the doorbell, Megan was ready and waiting for him. Dressed in a black cashmere sweater, jeans, and boots, set off by dangly silver earrings, she looked delicious enough to devour on the spot.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Her coat was in her hand. Conner held it for her while she slipped it on. The subtle fragrance of lavender teased his senses. He breathed her in, savoring the aroma. “You clean up like a million dollars,” he said.

  She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Let’s hope those steaks are as good as you say they are. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  “So have I. But not just for the steaks.” He let his hand rest on the small of her back as he guided her to the Jeep. He’d done a lot of thinking since this morning. In the end, he’d come to realize that Travis was right—he’d be a fool to let this fabulous woman go, or to lose her by playing stupid games.

  The challenge now would be how to end the game he was still playing—and how to do it without driving Megan away.

  “So, did you hear any more news from Travis and Maggie?” she asked as they headed north along the highway. “Is that big wedding on or off?”

  Conner laughed. “Travis came to his senses. It’s on. I’m sure you’ll be getting an invitation. Did I tell you I’m going to be Travis’s best man?”

  “Really? Well, if I get an invitation, I’ll look forward to seeing you in a tux—unless all the women mobbing you are blocking my view.”

  “Ouch. The only woman I want mobbing me is you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Where’s
the ceremony going to be?”

  “The Community Church. It’s the only traditional place with enough seating. Maggie’s got it reserved for December twenty-second, two days after the Christmas Ball.” He paused, giving her a sidelong glance. “I know you said you wouldn’t be going to the ball, but I keep hoping you’ll change your mind and be my date.”

  “And spoil your chances with that sexy singer?” Megan shook her head. “Not on your life. I’ve got someplace else to be.”

  Conner held back a sigh. Here they were, playing the same silly game. He was ready to end it. But if he called her bluff now, she might be too angry to have dinner with him—a sad waste of a lovely evening. Confession time would have to wait.

  * * *

  Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the restaurant, a rambling, rustic log structure with open beams overhead and a blazing stone fireplace in its center. Candles glowed on the tables. White lights twinkled on a small tree in one corner. Country Christmas music, turned low enough for quiet conversation, played in the background. The air smelled of pine, fresh bread, and sizzling steaks.

  Megan had dined at more upscale spots in Nashville. But so far, at least, this place deserved high marks for coziness and taste. The young hostess showed them to the secluded booth Conner had reserved. He seated Megan before hanging their coats on a nearby rack.

  By the time he returned, Megan was scanning the menu while a wine steward poured a sparkling cabernet into two goblets. “I hope you don’t mind my choosing the wine,” Conner said. “I took the liberty of ordering ahead to make sure they had it in stock.”

  Megan took a sip. “It’s perfect,” she said. “You have excellent taste.” She’d almost forgotten that Conner was no simple cowboy. As a champion athlete and celebrity, he’d moved in wealthy circles and acquired some sophistication. He would be at home almost anywhere.

  Conner glanced up at the steward with a word of thanks.

  “You’re welcome, sir,” the young man said. “Your server will be with you in a moment to take your order.”

  Megan studied the menu. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything. But I like the rib eye.”