Texas Christmas Bride: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Book 6

by Jean Brashear

  “Uh-huh.”

  He squeezed her again. “I’d better let you get to setting the table before Ben starts eating the silverware or something.”

  She giggled and released him. “You’re funny, Prince Daddy.”

  His throat too full for speech, he stroked a finger down her nose, then kissed it. She skipped after her twin.

  Daddy.

  A year ago—hell, a few months ago, he could never have imagined his life would hold all this. He might have possessed a boatload of money before, but now he was truly rich. Wealthy in the love Veronica had shared with him, from her own heart and in the form of her children.

  Jackson rose and looked around him at the humble ranch house in which his childhood friend had sheltered this family.

  Part of him envied David every last second he’d had here with them.

  A larger part was profoundly grateful. And sad that for Jackson to have this bounty, David had had to leave this world.

  “You all right, Dad?” Ben asked, pausing in the middle of the kitchen.

  Dad. Jackson nodded, heart overflowing. “Never better, son.” He summoned a smile. “So how was practice? What do you think your chances are Friday night?” He brushed a hand over Veronica’s hair as he passed her and started getting out glasses to fill them with milk or iced tea.

  It was all so precious. So fragile.

  He was the luckiest man in the world to have gotten a second chance.

  As ordered, Veronica sat watching Jackson clean up the kitchen after the meal while she drank a cup of tea. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

  “Nothing. Just business.”

  “You’ve listened to me chatter on endlessly about flower farm business, riveting details like how my poinsettia sales are going and what seeds I’ve started. Now spill.”

  He stopped washing dishes and stared out the window over the sink. “It’s Steph.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “She’s a mess. I have Penny now and I don’t need Steph’s help the way I did, but—” He shrugged. “We built Enigma Games together, the three of us: her, Ty and me. Ty’s gone, and I don’t feel right just putting her out to pasture, no matter how generous the severance package. But I don’t know exactly what she’s capable of anymore. She’s not ready to work, but she’s so…lost. So shaky.”

  “Anyone would be, after being held hostage, then watching Ty kill himself right in front of her. I can’t imagine the nightmares. Bad enough you had to see the aftermath, but she wound up covered in his blood.”

  He drained the sink and rinsed it, then turned to face her, wiping his hands dry. “Part of me wants to just sell the whole company. Stay here in Sweetgrass. I have plenty of standing offers, and I’ve got more money than we’ll need for the rest of our lives.”

  “And do what? Be my farmhand?”

  “Is the position of love slave open?”

  “Only to you.” She rose and approached him. “Jackson, that brain of yours would never let you rest. It’s been running full-tilt all your life.” She combed two fingers through the unruly locks spilling over his forehead. His head bent, his shoulders sagging a little. “You’re worn out.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He straightened to his full height.

  “You’ve been through an emotional marathon. Coming back here, finding out Ben’s your son, dealing with the father who banished you and left you penniless and homeless, having your best friend try to sabotage your company…to say nothing of how everyone relies on you so much while you try to pick up the pieces…it’s a lot, Jackson. Too much to expect of one man.”

  “It’s my company. They’re my people.” He drew her into his chest. “But you’re my family.”

  She slid her arms around his waist. “You’ve got some mighty fine muscle on you. You make a decent farmhand. Not so good at taking orders, though.”

  He chuckled and rested his cheek on her hair.

  “What if you slowed things down?” she asked. “Didn’t try to move the company here for a while?”

  He stiffened. “Sweetgrass is counting on me.”

  “Sweetgrass seems to survive, regardless. You don’t have to save it singlehandedly. Scarlett and Ian are already trying to do that. I’m worried about Scarlett.”

  “She said she’d cater my company Christmas party if I wanted. It would be a great way to introduce my staff to Sweetgrass. Make them want to come here.”

  “What if you didn’t do that just yet?”

  “Why not?”

  “Scarlett’s asking too much of herself, and so are you. Take it down a notch. What if you picked several key people and brought them to Sweetgrass instead? Have you heard about the community Christmas?”

  He chuckled. “You mean the commooty Christmas?”

  She giggled. “Of course.”

  “Where did that idea come from?”

  “Eric.”

  “Eric? Rissa’s Eric?”

  “Our Eric. He’s a Gallagher now—well, a Mackey, technically, but—”

  “Yeah. I got it. So what’s up with that?”

  “Everyone—and I do mean everyone, including the Morning Star branch and the Marshall clan—will be invited. Locals can bring guests.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t tell me—Scarlett plans to cook for it.”

  “She was going to, but that got nipped in the bud. The event has morphed into a giant pot-luck. Tree on the courthouse lawn, Secret Santa so everyone has a gift…”

  He smiled and slipped his arms around her waist. “In other words, the best of Sweetgrass.” His gaze went distant. “Hmmm…”

  “What are you thinking?”

  He drew his attention back. “Well, if half the known universe will be there already, and we can pitch in to provide food, maybe Penny and I should give your idea serious consideration and bring in some key staffers who don’t have other plans.”

  “But where will you house them?”

  “Lodging, temporary and permanent, is high on my list of priorities for the town. Some bed and breakfasts, at a minimum.”

  “In all your spare time.”

  He caught the sarcasm and grinned. “Bridger and I talked earlier about some sort of temporary dormitory-type housing on the square—but I’d have to hire crews to construct them. There’s no way we can get it done in time. Besides, Bridger’s hell-bent to get a foundation poured on their house before Christmas. Assuming Penny will stop dinking with the house plans, that is.” He paused. “I volunteered Ben and me to help him build it. Good practice for when we build our own.”

  She glanced around at the home where she’d raised her babies. It would be difficult to leave, but she understood Jackson’s wish to make a home that was all their own. This had been the Butler homestead and David was a benevolent ghost, but his presence was never completely forgotten. Keeping him alive for his girls—and Ben, too—was important. David had been a good and decent man who’d stepped in when she was terrified and hopeless and had done right by her in so many ways.

  It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Jackson.

  “We don’t have to rush,” Jackson reassured her. “We won’t do it until you’re ready.”

  “I’ll be ready soon. I just—”

  “You’ve had a lot thrown at you, too. Which reminds me, I am still determined to hire you some help around here. Not that I mind helping out, but—”

  “Being a mogul is pretty time-consuming. Your company needs your attention.”

  “Not at your expense.” He hesitated. “Vee, there’s one thing I really want, though. It’s the only thing I—” He didn’t finish.

  It was so out of character for Jackson to be tentative—about anything. “What is it?”

  He kept one arm around her waist, and with the other hand, he lifted her left hand to his lips. “I want to put a ring on this finger. I want to know you’re mine.”

  “Of course I’m yours.” In a way she’d never fully forgive herself for, she always had
been. She’d loved David, but theirs had been a gentle, comfortable love that had grown over time. Jackson was the love of her life and had been since she was fifteen years old.

  “I want this, Vee.” He drew in a deep breath. “I…need it.”

  For such a strong, powerful man to make that admission was a sign of how seriously he took this. “I want to marry you, too. I just think it’s important to give the kids time.”

  “I agree, but I’m Prince Daddy now, and Ben seems at peace—or as much so as a teenage boy can be. What are we waiting for?”

  “I—”

  “Be my Christmas present, Vee. Marry me for Christmas, would you? It’s the only gift I want.”

  “How is it a gift, when you’re the one with the magic wand and all the money?”

  “I’m getting so much more.” At her scoffing noise, he pressed the issue. “Sure, I have a lot of money and I can make life easier, but all you’re reaping besides that is me. I’m gaining a whole family. Most of all, I’m getting you.” His electric blue eyes were a magnet. Her lodestar. “I’ve needed you since the day I left, and I can never make it up to you that I did go, but—”

  She hushed him with a finger to his lips. “We’re past that now. I understand why you had to leave, and you couldn’t know about Ben because I didn’t.” Even if she could have told him and brought him back, she hadn’t known where to find him.

  The pain of missing years of Ben’s life turned his eyes dark. He closed them on an anguished exhale. “I can never, ever tell you how sorry I am.”

  She rose to her toes and kissed him softly. “We don’t go back, Jackson. We have so much to look forward to.”

  “Does that mean you’ll give me my perfect Christmas gift?”

  “I’m hardly perfect.” She winked. “It does save a lot of shopping, though. I mean, seriously—what do you give a gazillionaire?”

  “You. You give him the love of his life. You walk down that aisle, and you let him pledge his life and his honor and his every last breath to you.”

  Her eyes overflowed. “I love you so much.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Through her tears, she found a chuckle. “That’s a yes.” Then her eyes flew open. “Dear heaven, do you know how little time we have to plan it? You don’t mean actual Christmas, do you?”

  “Why not? Everyone will already be here for this community Christmas. What better time?” He sobered. “Unless you want a fancy wedding. Vee, if you do, I’ll give you the most elaborate wedding any woman ever imagined. Paris, Rome, London, Tahiti—you name it.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Why? What’s wrong? Sweetheart, whatever you want, just name it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  She uncovered her face to reveal helpless, half-hysterical laughter. “I don’t want anywhere but Sweetgrass. But Jackson, how on earth will we manage—”

  “Leave that to me.” He shot her a cocky grin. “I have people.”

  “I need to sit down.”

  “I need to pick you up.” Which he did, then began twirling her around the kitchen.

  The kids came rushing. “What’s going on?” Ben asked.

  “Mommy, are you crying or laughing? What happened?”

  “Your mommy just made me the happiest man in the world, punkin. She’s going to marry me for Christmas.”

  “You can be like Scarlett, Mommy, in a beautiful princess gown!” Abby’s eyes widened. “Beebee and me, we can be your flower girls! Want a beautiful dress, Beebee?”

  Eyes equally wide, Beth nodded. “So you’ll be our daddy for real, Prince Daddy?”

  Jackson’s gaze met Veronica’s. “I want to adopt them. Will you let me?”

  He would give them his heart either way, she knew. Oh, David… She wondered a little, but deep inside, she knew. David had grieved Jackson’s leaving, too. They’d been friends since babyhood. “Of course.”

  “Yay!” Abby started skipping. “Ben! We get to be Gallaghers!”

  Ben’s eyes darkened, and he stiffened. “We’re Butlers, Abby.”

  “Ben!”

  “We’re supposed to just forget Dad?” he shot back. Then he glanced at Jackson, his jaw mutinous. “He was Dad first.”

  “He was,” Jackson acknowledged carefully and set her on her feet.

  “You call Prince Daddy Dad,” Abby reminded her brother. “He’s your daddy now.”

  If anything, Ben’s entire frame went more rigid.

  Veronica ached for Jackson and Ben both. Ben had loved David with every fiber. He didn’t know his birth father half so well. They were doing fine together most of the time, but the footing was still rocky. “Ben—”

  Jackson stilled her with a hand on her arm. “Maybe we should talk about this later?” he asked Ben.

  Ben only nodded once, briskly, then turned and ran upstairs to his room.

  “I’m sorry.” She saw Jackson’s jaw flex and grieved for how this must hurt. Bad enough another man had raised his child, but to have that child reject the opportunity to be claimed legally? “It’s—he’s—”

  Jackson shook his head, but his expression broke her heart.

  “I’ll go talk to him.”

  “No. Give him some space. I’m not forcing this on him. I have to earn it.”

  She touched his arm in sympathy. The muscles were stone-hard with tension.

  Maybe he needed space, too. “Girls, it’s time for your baths.”

  “Is Ben okay?” Abby queried.

  “He’s fine.” Veronica took her by the hand to lead her upstairs. She turned to reach for Beth, only to see her daughter standing by Jackson silently, holding onto his leg as if offering support. Jackson was staring down at the top of her blonde head, his big hand cradled protectively over her hair.

  “We’ll be upstairs, Beth,” she said softly. With her eyes, she gave Jackson a kiss of comfort.

  Chapter Two

  As the last few customers trickled out, the cleanup began. Ian was waiting to take Scarlett home, bantering with Jeanette and Henry and Brenda while helping them out, turning chairs on top of tables so the dishwasher Pete could mop.

  Weary and a little lightheaded, Scarlett pushed to get done sooner. Her feet hurt, her back ached and she was more than ready for bed. While sharpening her favorite knife, she lost her grip and grabbed for it. Pain struck, and she gasped. A thin red line of blood appeared on her palm. Her right palm. Her dominant hand. If she’d lost the use of it, even for a day, with all she had to accomplish—

  For a second she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes and focused on settling down her heart. One…breath…one…

  “What the hell—” Instantly Ian was beside her, one arm sliding around her waist as he grabbed for her hand and turned the palm upward. He swore while reaching for a paper towel. “Brenda, the first aid kit—now!” he snapped.

  He turned her in his arms. “You need to sit down. Hell, you need to forget about this place,” he growled.

  Between her fears and his fury, she couldn’t settle the heart that was already pounding in double time.

  “Ian, I—” Helplessly she batted at his hands. Sucked in air she couldn’t find. Wrenched herself from his arms when what she desperately wanted was to curl up there for week, months…forever. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She held up a hand to forestall all the concern being directed her way.

  “You are not fine. Give me your hand.” When she didn’t immediately comply, his own was lightning-quick to seize hers. As he bent to clean the blood and bandage the wound, his voice was sharp. “You’re working too damn hard, and our baby—”

  She covered her eyes with her free hand as hot tears formed. He was voicing her own terror. She desperately wanted this baby, but she’d promised Nana she would save Sweetgrass with this events center and she would, come hell or high water.

  “Henry—” Ian barked. “You all finish it. I’m taking Scarlett home.”

  She whirled
on him. “Don’t! You’re part of the problem, don’t you see, Ian? You want me tucked away home, sitting in a rocking chair and—and—” She threw out her uninjured hand. “Knitting or—” Anger made her heedless. “I am not some delicate flower! Maddie has three children with one on the way, and she runs her cafe just fine! I am not helpless!”

  The entire room had gone still. She and Ian disagreed at times, but never like this. Never…shouting. She could feel all their eyes on her.

  That only made her more furious. “Don’t stop! We have too much to do—we—”

  It was Jeanette who hazarded to approach her. “Scarlett, it’s okay,” she said calmly but without pity in her voice. Scarlett couldn’t tolerate pity. “You’re under a lot of pressure, but you’re not looking at the difference in your situations. Maddie is not trying to run two restaurants, especially not one with the unbearable burden of being the salvation of Sweetgrass. You’re carrying a much heavier load, and you need to face facts: it’s not necessary. Jackson’s bringing in business and jobs, and others will follow. It’s not all on you anymore.”

  She looked Scarlett straight in the eye. “I know you and I don’t get along most of the time, but maybe that very thing will convince you I’m not saying this to be nice. You want the honest truth? It never was all on you. Sweetgrass has survived for a long time before you ever showed up.”

  The rebuke stung. “But—” Scarlett glanced away. “I promised Nana. This is her dream.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Jeanette snapped. “At least half of this is your ambition speaking. You’ve got your Paris-trained-chef superhero cape on when you think like that. You know good and well what Ruby wants most from you is to be here, to be healthy and happy…to stay, Scarlett. That’s it, the whole shebang: for you to stay. Not for you to singlehandedly carry Sweetgrass on your shoulders.”

  Hurt and angry, Scarlett glared at Ian. “Did you put her up to this?”

  He reared back as if she’d slapped him. “I don’t ask other people to fight my battles for me. You know that.”