Home for Christmas

by Melissa McClone

  Ty motioned to Jason for another round. "The truth hurts."

  "I was focused on the win, getting Rachel to move, but only so that part was out of the way. Then we could move on to more interesting negotiations." Nate put up his hands in surrender. "Don't hit me again. I meant that with due respect to the woman I'm falling in love with."

  Beers appeared in front of them. Ty sipped his. "You're such an idiot. Even I know that order would never work. And don't mention love and my sister in the same sentence unless you've fallen and mean it."

  "Do you think Rachel would give me a second chance? To switch the order."

  "Not if you call it negotiations, buddy. Most women don't appreciate being considered a business transaction. I know my sister. That'll scare her faster than anything."

  Fair enough. "I hurt her bad. She said I was no different than the Darbys."

  Ty stared over the rim of his beer. "Were you?"

  Nate remembered what she'd told him. "Yeah, I was. Worse actually. She'd told me how hurt she'd been, but I didn't let that stop me."

  From trying to win.

  And now he'd lost.

  He was only beginning to realize how much.

  Nate pushed his beer aside. "If I were her, I'd never want to see me again."

  Ty took a sip from his glass. "So what are you going to do about it?"

  "I don't know," Nate admitted. "But I sure as hell don't plan on making the same mistake again."

  Would that be enough for Rachel?

  On December twenty-fourth, Rachel stood outside the Dutch door at the Bar V5. Her cellphone buzzed. She didn't have to look at the screen to know another text from Nate had arrived. He wanted to see her.

  Too bad.

  Nate was in town, trying to track her down. Ty had told her as much when he handed off the keys to his pickup. Her brother had packed up her things, but Rachel wanted to make sure nothing had been forgotten, especially her baking gear. She also had something only she could drop off. This ranch had felt like home. She couldn't leave without a final farewell.

  The mudroom door was unlocked, as it usually was during the day. With a tote bag hanging from her shoulder, she carried the boxes containing gingerbread houses and trees inside, walking straight to the dining room.

  Rachel dropped the tote on the table then set the boxes next to her bag. She never wanted to see Nate again, so she was planning a move to Butte or Helena. A little far from Ty, but closer than Phoenix and safer for her heart than Marietta. She opened the top box.

  The scent of gingerbread greeted her, a bittersweet smell that intensified the squeezing, achy pain in her chest. Even though she wanted to wring Nate's clueless neck, she owed him for the use of his kitchen, letting her stay here in a beautiful room and sharing his business expertise.

  Rachel was here to pay in the only currency she had that Nate might appreciate—gingerbread.

  Then she could move on, feeling no further obligation to Nate Vaughn. Well, as long as she didn't need her heart back soon. The emotions would take time to heal. The memories would linger, too. Not for too long, she hoped.

  She took in the majestic tree's ornament-laden branches, her name on one of the stockings by the fireplace, the cursed sprigs of mistletoe hanging like acrobatic Cupids and the breathtaking mountains outside the windows.

  The vise tightening around her heart made breathing difficult. But being here was hard. Only a day ago she thought she might stay here forever with Nate, with the man she'd fallen in love with. Now she was looking at the ranch for the last time.

  She wouldn't be returning. Not ever.

  The tears she expected pricked her eyes. She was horrible at goodbyes. Maybe because they were never her choice.

  Pull yourself together.

  With a wipe of her eyes, Rachel set to work on the gingerbread. She had to be finished before Nate returned. That didn't give her much time. Marietta was a small town to search.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The ranch was the last place Nate wanted to be on Christmas Eve. Too empty. Too quiet. Too lonely. Just like his life.

  Until Rachel had arrived.

  If only he hadn't screwed up.

  She'd told him exactly how to break her trust, and he'd used her own words, like a map, to do just that. What burned the most was he'd become one of them, people she believed had manipulated her for their own gain.

  People she never wanted to speak to again.

  His talk with Ty yesterday had sparked hope. If Nate could tell Rachel he didn't care whether her brother remained his partner maybe she'd give him another chance. All Nate cared about was getting her back, earning her trust.

  Earning, not winning.

  But Nate had tried calling, texting, emailing, showing up at Ty's apartment in person and searching through town. There were no more chances.

  Worse, he only had himself to blame.

  Nate tossed his keys onto a bench in the mudroom. He didn't remove his boots. Who cared if the floors got wet? He didn't care about anything but Rachel.

  Maybe he should cancel tomorrow's Christmas potluck dinner. He didn't feel like being a gracious host or cooking a turkey. Getting drunk sounded pretty damn good. There hadn't been time for that yesterday or today.

  He walked into the dark kitchen, the only lights the glowing digits on the microwave clock. The Nativity play at the church would be starting in less than an hour. Most everyone he knew would be there, including Rachel. At least that was what Annie had told him this afternoon when he'd stopped by the diner.

  An elephant, one with an amazing memory, seemed to sit on his chest. Damn, he could hardly breathe.

  He walked past the bare island and counters. No gingerbread or cookies or cakes in sight. No mouthwatering scent of baked goods in the oven or dinner simmering on a burner. No mealtime where he would get to sit next to her and listen to her talk and talk.

  Nate missed Rachel so much.

  He lengthened his stride to get out of the kitchen faster. The memories of her were too strong, even in the darkness. Maybe by spring he wouldn't mind so much. Until then he'd eat out or cook at the bunkhouse's small kitchen.

  In the great room, the Christmas tree lights twinkled. He could build a fire and turn on a few lamps. Or maybe not. Sitting in the darkness fit his mood.

  Tiny white lights reflected in the window. Ones he didn't recognize.

  Nate took a closer look.

  On top of the dining room table sat a huge gingerbread house, a replica of the Bar V5, the barn and three lighted trees.

  Air rushed from his lungs.

  I want one.

  Yours is on me. A thank you.

  Rachel had remembered and gone overboard with the lights inside, mimicking the warm glow through the windows. He'd told her about getting lost in a blizzard one February. Frostbitten, he'd found his way home due to that light. She'd made tiny footprints—his footprints—in the snow, depicting the moment he'd reached safety at the ranch. The moment when the warmth of his home had not only enveloped him, but saved his life.

  Nate's heart beat like the timpani in Handel's Messiah. He forced his feet to move, turning on the light when he reached the dining room.

  A small envelope with his name written in cursive leaned against the tree. He opened the flap and removed a note card. The picture on the front showed two gingerbread men with bowties and a red-plaid heart ornament leaning against a lantern with a lit votive candle inside. Cheery and Christmassy. Very Rachel-like. He opened the card.

  Nate,

  I appreciate you giving me free rein in your kitchen and house. Being at the Bar V5 was a dream come true this December. My goal was to make enough with my gingerbread to afford a lease deposit. Thanks to you and your business expertise, I have more than enough seed money to start my own bakery. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and find your heart's desire in the New Year. Thanks again for everything!

  Sincerely,

  Rachel

  She'd drawn a heart on the rig
ht side of her name.

  He reread the note. Twice. If she were speaking the words, she would sound thankful, appreciative, professional.

  All business, but that was okay.

  At least she didn't sound upset, angry, hateful.

  Every word spoke of her gratitude. She even wanted him to find his heart's desire. Too bad he'd found it, only to screw up and lose the one thing that meant the most.

  That elephant returned, stomping on his heart, the pain more intense than before. He plopped onto one of the dining room chairs.

  Rachel.

  He loved her.

  It was as simple and as complicated as that.

  He'd screwed up. He'd been a first class jackass. But he couldn't let her go without at least trying to make things right. And apologize.

  His gaze zeroed in on the heart next to her name.

  She hadn't sounded angry. No attitude or negativity. That had to be a good sign.

  The heart could be another sign.

  A choir might not be singing Hallelujah, but the hope growing inside him more than made up for the lack of voices.

  Nate could be in denial. He would admit being desperate.

  But a woman who stormed away from him with tears gleaming in her eyes only to bring him a special gingerbread house and a gracious note was capable of forgiveness.

  He pulled out his cellphone to call Ty. This had to work.

  Otherwise tomorrow really would be a blue Christmas.

  At Ty's apartment, Rachel sat on the couch and wrapped her brother's last stocking stuffer. The green and red polka-dotted paper was cheery, but she felt as if Christmas had gone missing and she didn't know where to look for it.

  But she couldn't give up—or give in—to the melancholy wanting to bring her down.

  Yes, her heart was hurting. Broken. She'd misjudged someone again, and fallen in love with him to make the situation even harder.

  But she'd told Ty she was okay if she failed.

  Time to suck it up. Put on her big girl panties. Not ruin Christmas for her brother. She'd survived losses and not been broken. She'd survived because Ty had been at her side. When he left Arizona, she'd been disappointed, hurt even, but she understood. He had his own life to live and dreams to follow. Even from far away, he did what he could to make sure she felt loved. Ty deserved to be happy. And so did she. If all they ever had for family was each other, she was still lucky.

  This was going to be their first white Christmas. The first of many.

  Rachel glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. She had fifteen minutes until the Nativity play started, plenty of time to make the short walk to the church and meet Zack, who was driving out from the Bar V5 where Ty was held up.

  But he'd promised he would be back at the apartment when she returned. She hoped so because tonight was one night she couldn't bear to be alone.

  "What in the hell are you scheming now?"

  The sound of Ty's voice made Nate look up from his computer monitor. "Thanks for staying late."

  "You haven't answered my question."

  "I'm going to get your sister back. She made me a gingerbread house and a barn. A tree, too."

  "As a thank you. That's what Rachel does."

  "I've got a chance." Nate couldn't explain why he felt that way when the odds suggested he would fail, but he did. "If I don't at least try... I've got a plan."

  Ty rolled his eyes. "Heaven help us, another plan."

  "This is a good one."

  "You always think so."

  "I'm going to present the pros and cons of Rachel making Marietta her home vs. moving to another town in Montana."

  Ty stepped closer to the laptop. Scowled. "Aw, bloody hell. Please tell me you're not making her a PowerPoint presentation."

  "It'll get the job done."

  He closed the laptop. "Stop. Don't treat her like one of your investments. Rachel's not looking for a business partner. She's looking for love."

  "I care about your sister. More than I've cared about any other woman."

  "Then stop with the venture capital mumbo jumbo crap. This is a decision she needs to make with her heart, not her head. Don't show Rachel slides full of useless statistics and pretty pictures about which place to call home. Show her."

  Show her.

  Nate let the two words sink in. He was good at telling people things. He'd made a successful career out of telling. Showing, not so much. He wasn't even sure what Ty meant or how to pull it off, but Nate knew in his heart a PowerPoint presentation wasn't going to get the job done.

  Rachel needed to understand why staying in Marietta was the best thing for her. Not Ty. Definitely not Nate.

  But he wanted her to know what she meant to him. She needed to know that, too, even if her knowing changed nothing.

  But how?

  How could he show Rachel where she belonged and how he felt and make her understand this was home?

  On the morning of December twenty-fifth, Rachel stared out Ty's apartment window. Fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky. "Merry Christmas to me."

  Bah humbug would match her mood better. Okay, not really. Her heavy heart wasn't ready to embrace an Ebenezer Scrooge attitude, but she wished...

  Don't think about him.

  She couldn't think about him. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe someday.

  Rachel tossed off the covers. No matter how much she felt like crying and moping, she wouldn't. Ty wanted this to be the best Christmas ever. She would make that happen. She'd prepared a Swedish Tea Ring last night. All she needed to do was stick the pan in the oven to bake.

  She put on a robe, slipped her bare feet into fuzzy slippers then padded her way into the living room.

  Stopped. Gasped.

  She blinked then refocused. Still there.

  Santa stood next to the tree in a full red suit, a leather belt with shiny gold buckle and boots, polished black boots. A fake beard hid his face and wire-rimmed glasses made seeing his eye color difficult. He tipped his red cowboy hat. "Ho-ho-ho."

  The booming low voice didn't sound familiar. He was too far away for her to recognize. But she knew exactly who Santa's partner in crime was this white Christmas morning.

  Ty, wearing an elf hat, stood next to the jolly fellow in red. He looked silly, embarrass-via-social-media-silly, but affection for her brother swelled. "Hey."

  Not exactly Elvish, but at least understandable and recognizable. Which was more than she could say about the situation.

  Rachel moved farther into the room. Each step brought her closer to Santa. She took a closer look. Her heart jammed up into her throat. Not Kris Kringle.

  Nate.

  She clutched the back of the recliner. Her fingers dug into the leather. "I don't understand."

  Ty stepped forward, gave her a big hug, the kind that always made her feel better. Not this time. "Merry Christmas, kiddo."

  "You, too." She searched her brother's face for an explanation. He knew how she felt. She couldn't understand why he'd brought Nate here on Christmas morning. "What's going on?"

  "Ask Santa."

  She faced Nate, her insides trembling. This was the man she loved, the man who had broken her trust. She wanted to feel indifferent to him and hated that she felt much more than that. "So..."

  He removed his hat, and with a flourish, bowed. "I'm the Santa of What Could Be."

  Heart racing, mind scrambling to make sense of his words. "Huh?"

  "Dickens—A Christmas Carol," Nate said.

  So sweet. Her heart jangled like jingle bells.

  Nope. Not sweet. Manipulative.

  To protect herself, she crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't let her heart start hoping, wishing. That would be too painful. Her emotions were too fragile. "Those were ghosts."

  "Ghosts are dead," Nate explained. "I'm very much alive. Plus I didn't have access to a ghost costume so I thought Santa would do."

  "I know this is confusing," Ty said to her. "But just go with it. For me."


  Rachel would do anything for Ty. For Nate, not so much. But her brother's pleading gaze convinced her. "Okay. So what kind of ghost...Santa...are you again?"

  "I'm the Santa of What Could Be." Nate placed his hat on his head. "I want to show you what your life could be like if you lived in Marietta."

  She gave Ty a look. "Did you put him up to this?"

  He held up his hands, palms facing her. "I take no credit. This is one hundred percent his idea. I'm just his—"

  "Elf," she offered.

  "Better an elf than Mrs. Claus." Ty winked. "Hear him out, Rach. Please?"

  She nodded. "So Santa, what do you want to show me?"

  Nate pointed to the bedroom door. "You need to get dressed first."

  "Scrooge got to wear his pajamas," she countered, relieved she'd put on her robe. Not that flannel long sleeved jammies showed anything, but it made her feel self-conscious.

  "Hypothermia isn't a concern in novels and movies," he said.

  Good point. She'd bought herself a special Christmas outfit, to celebrate her move and look cute for Nate. The last part no longer applied, but why let new clothes go to waste? "I'll go change."

  Nate watched Rachel disappear into the bedroom, his heart sinking with each of her steps. "This was a stupid idea."

  Ty played with the bell at the end of his hat. "I tried to tell you that."

  "Thanks for your support."

  "Come on. I'm here, dressed like an idiot, so you can try to get my sister back. I wouldn't be helping if I didn't believe you could make her happy. I realize you must love her if you're willing to go to so much effort."

  Nate had been up all night figuring things out. "I love Rachel so much I'd leave the Bar V5 to you and follow her anywhere, even the desert."

  "That's all I need to hear. I pray this works. Just don't be an idiot." Ty straightened his stupid-looking elf hat. "While you put on your show, I'll be a good elf and have everything ready at the Bar V5."

  "If she comes back with me."

  "She'll come back to the ranch if she knows I'm there."