There it was again. That light in his gaze as if sunshine arced through a prism.
“There were only flocked trees left.” She shrugged. “And I might have forgotten about the extra bags of glitter I left in the trunk when I had them put the tree inside.” She cleared her throat. “I had to make do without a list.” Or a well thought out plan.
Chris reached out, swiped his finger across her cheek. “That explains the nerves and the sparkle.”
His touch seemed to trace against her heart. Her voice softened. “It’s just…we have a tree, ornaments and presents.”
“And pie.” Joel bounced the bag against his legs.
“And?” Chris asked. His gaze locked on Hope.
This was it. This was what she came here for. She’d come to offer him more than pie and decorations. She’d come to offer him her heart. But would he still want it? “We don’t have a home to put our stuff in.”
“You want to unload your exploded Christmas inside my house?” He pushed away from the doorframe.
She looked at Joel and back at Chris. “Did we mention we have banana cream pie with extra whipped cream?”
“You might have,” Chris said.
“Well, what do you say?” she asked. A shiver built inside her. The thermos slipped with each tremor. She could toss the thermos at him and run. But she wanted to stop running. She wanted to run into his arms, not away. “Can we come in?”
“That depends.” He rubbed his chin and neck. “Is this a holiday vacation? A two week getaway?”
Where was her inner lawyer? Why was her voice so uncertain? She’d even take her inner elf right now. “I was thinking more like an extended vacation.”
“Extended how long?” he asked.
“Into forever,” she said, finally giving a voice to her heart. “Because I love you so much. I can’t give you up twice.”
“I got a daddy for Christmas.” Joel leaned against Chris’ leg and sighed. “Daddy.”
Chris picked up Joel and kissed his forehead. Then he wrapped his other arm around Hope’s waist and pulled her into his side. Happiness as bright as a child’s smile on Christmas morning flashed through his green eyes. He said, “I love you too.”
There was tenderness in his voice. Warmth in his embrace. And a promise in his words that made her believe in magic and star cookie wishes and happily-ever-afters.
The thermos clunked on the porch. Joel buried his head in Chris’ shoulder before Chris covered Hope’s lips with his own in a kiss that stole her breath and captured her heart.
Chris pulled away, pressed one soft kiss on her lips and said, “Welcome home, family.”
The End
A Note From The Author
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His Christmas Gift
Leigh Riker
Copyright © 2015 by:
Leigh Riker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Acknowledgments
Thanks to my fellow authors, Tara Randel and Cari Lynn Webb. And to the rest of this wonderful author group. It's been great fun!
Praise and Awards
National Bestselling Author
Award Winner
“Passionate characters in this family-oriented read. Satisfying.”
~ Romantic Times
“Ms. Riker is a master of the contemporary.”
~ Paperback Forum
“…interesting characters…well developed and heartwarming.”
~ Romantic Times
Chapter 1
The business of Christmas Town, Maine, as always, was…Christmas. Every small shop along Main Street, even a few new ones, had to do, it seemed, with the holiday. And Brady Sullivan loved Christmas.
But for Brady, this season wasn’t going that well. His dad had recently suffered a stroke, and as soon as Brady had been back in his hometown, his sister Hope had rocked him with a long-held secret—the reason Brady was now staying at the Pine Tree Inn. Although irritated with Hope, he was also envious. She and Chris and their son Joel had formed a newly perfect family that made Brady feel like even more of an outsider. He always felt tense whenever he came home, and setting his family straight at last about his own past wouldn’t be easy.
Still, determined to turn things around, he was already here, and the falling snow helped to lighten his mood. The familiar, thick white stuff had coated the road and was beginning to pile up on the already present mounds in front of stores and houses. By evening, if he didn’t miss his guess, there’d be another foot of snow on the ground.
Brady also loved snow. The fact that it was part of his job was icing on his cake, like his new plum post in nearby Acadia National Park.
On his way to the inn after breakfast he drove past Comfort and Joy, his family’s store. But Brady didn’t stop. Hope would be behind the counter, and he wasn’t ready to deal with her again.
Right now he wasn’t sure how to spend these last days before Christmas. He’d already helped to put out a fire at the Bells are Ringing wedding chapel then clean up the site. But again, on his own, he was at loose ends.
He started to turn into the inn’s rear parking lot then realized the way was blocked by a snowplow. Any on street parking, by order of the current town mayor, had been suspended because of the snow.
Then Brady brightened. Perfect. Across from the inn, Beth’s Trees was doing a not-booming business again from what he could see, and its lot looked empty except for one plain compact sedan.
As soon as he’d parked beside it, he got out of the truck—and for one second couldn’t place the petite woman who rushed out of the Christmas tree display as if to pounce on a first customer. Her gray eyes went wide in apparent surprise before something else shuttered her gaze.
“Brady Sullivan,” she said with obvious dislike.
Clearly she remembered him. Her older sister had been his English teacher in high school, another reason he probably should have stayed in Acadia for the holidays. Suddenly, the old scandal in which he’d also played a part was right in front of him. Even Hope had referred to it.
“Hi,” he said, using his best smile. “Parking spaces around here are scarce. Mind if I leave my truck in your lot for a while?”
“I do mind,” she said, glaring at his shiny black ride, which Brady called Darth Vader. He liked his vehicles to make a statement.
He pulled his wallet from his rear jeans pocket and held out a bill.
“I’m staying at the inn right over there.”
She stepped back as if she’d just realized she was standing in his space. And didn’t want to be there. “Move your truck,” she said, not taking the money in his hand. “That is, unless you plan to buy a tree.”
Brady put the twenty back, ready to negotiate instead.
“Okay, then,” he said with a glance at the clumps of unsold firs and pines. “I have another idea.” He sure didn’t want to hike from someone else’s lot a mile away.
She shook her head, strands of dark blond hair slipping from the confines of her red stocking cap. “You don’t remember me. Do you?”
“Sure. You’re, um, Miss Crawford’s kid sister.”
“I was.” Her breath frosted in the cold air. “She’s gone now.”
Brady reeled back. Did she mean her sister had left Christmas Town? Like him? Or, no. It was one thing to be partly responsible for the English teacher losing her job years ago. It was another to learn from her sister’s sad expression that she’d passed away.
“Sorry,” he
said. “I didn’t know.”
“Why should you?” She paused. “You didn’t care about her then. I can’t imagine you would now.”
Ouch. Brady didn’t think it wise to go on with this topic. Or try to tell her what had really happened twelve years ago. She wasn’t in a listening mood. She looked ready to call Chris at the sheriff’s office and have him removed from her property. Brady couldn’t blame her.
“Look, I said I’m sorry.”
“And you think that lets you off the hook?”
Not waiting for his answer, she turned back into the stand of trees. He’d bet she had curves hidden under those bulky winter clothes, but Brady jerked his gaze away. Another quick scan of the trees told him he’d been right. Some of them were in less than perfect shape, to put it kindly. Never one to miss an opportunity, Brady followed her.
“Let’s make a deal,” he said, sounding even to himself like the emcee on the old game show.
“You made your deal,” she said, whirling to face him.
The motion stirred up the frosting of snow on the nearest trees and random flakes sifted down onto Brady’s jacket.
“You let me park the truck here—I’ll help you with your stock.”
“I don’t need help.”
He almost smiled. Oh, yes she did.
She gestured toward a teenaged kid who was manhandling a big balsam fir at the edge of the lot. “I have a boy who works for me.”
Brady hadn’t noticed him before.
“An amateur? I’m a forest ranger. Trees are my business.”
“Ranger Rick,” she murmured. “This must be my lucky day.”
Brady stiffened. At least she had a sense of humor, insulting as it was. She made him sound like someone who’d gotten his badge from a Cracker Jack box.
He reached out to a straggly branch near her shoulder. “See this?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a tree.”
He had the impression she didn’t appreciate trees. Odd, since she was running a Christmas lot. “Part of a tree,” he said, trying to make her smile. “This should have been pruned—for starters. The shape’s not great.” He surveyed the rest of the area. “You have a good location here, plenty of parking space”—he grinned—“and what looks like enough storage over there in that shed. A tree lot can make good money in a short time, but in Maine your stock would be better off with a tent for protection from the cold and wind at night.”
“I use tarps,” she said.
“Good enough, then. But I see some needle loss here and there. You should replace those trees. You need to feature your best-looking trees. No wonder you don’t have much business.”
She bristled. “I’m very busy. And I don’t grow these trees. I bought them from suppliers. For your information, this lot doesn’t open until eleven. Except on weekends.”
Brady checked his watch. Ten-thirty. He shifted tactics again.
“Great,” he said. “I’ll leave my truck here, go change into work clothes, then give you a hand. You’ll have a much better display if you group these trees together: the balsam firs, blue spruce, and—wow—I see a few Leyland cypress.”
Her gaze faltered. Maybe she didn’t have as much business as she’d claimed. “An even trade?” she asked in a suspicious tone.
“Yep. Just for the day.” He said, “Part of today.”
“Well, then. All right.” She flicked a glance at him, up then down. “I could use some more…muscle.” Just as quickly she looked away and added, “Temporarily.”
Grinning, Brady was already on his way to the inn.
Halfway to the street he turned and, walking backwards, called out.
“Cara Crawford. See? I did remember.”
~*~
With her heart still in her throat, Cara stared after him. She knew all about Brady Sullivan. Back in the day he’d been Christmas Town’s golden boy, the high school homecoming king and star quarterback, headed for the NFL or maybe the Olympics. Like many Maine boys, he’d practically been born on skis. But then he’d gotten involved in that cheating scandal that swept up her sister too.
Which was all—or mostly all—Cara could think of now.
Despite the fact that she’d been once removed from the scandal, she still felt guilty by association. With Bethany gone, why did she stay in Christmas Town? Selling trees she knew little about?
Because, Cara admitted, she meant to honor her sister’s last wish. Beth had run the lot each Christmas season and, for this year at least, Cara had promised to take her place. As if anyone could. Blinking, she watched the snow that swirled around Brady’s back as he headed for the inn. It was already another frigid day outdoors when what Cara craved was the warmth of a crackling fire at home and a good book to read. If she could have avoided Christmas completely this year, she would have.
Brady had been right. She wasn’t even selling that many trees. People in town had another choice, and they often picked Murphy’s lot instead. But if Brady could help her and the business did better, the profit, along with her part-time job at the local paper, would support her for most of next year. Until she decided what to do with her life.
Brady’s return was just what she’d needed. Not. The only other person who knew about her freshman infatuation with him then was her still-best friend whose lips had been sealed long ago. Cara had managed to hide that even from Beth.
With a shiver she glanced toward her teenage helper. Was Tommy doing what she’d asked? Cara didn’t trust him. But she couldn’t quite see him either in the middle of what Cara called her forest. She’d check on him later. She crossed the lot—there hadn’t been much else for Beth to leave behind—and went into the small trailer that was her office this December. Cara checked the cash drawer.
When the trailer door opened, she expected Tommy to be there, probably with some excuse about leaving again, but instead her friend Jill breezed in. Cara nearly groaned aloud at her bad timing.
Jill shook snow from her dark hair. “Brrr, did you see the weather report? Raise a hand, anyone who’s ready for spring.”
“Ever the schoolteacher,” Cara said, giving Jill a quick hug. “I like snow better than mud. But not much. Are you here to buy another tree?”
“If all my students had their way, I’d buy them each one.” She glanced out at the lot and Cara’s heart froze. Was she watching Brady cross the street? “But those twenty-three kindergartners will be on Christmas break soon. What would I do then with a classroom full of trees?”
Jill had bought one tree last week. “Promise me you’ll take that gorgeous blue spruce home with you. It was the prettiest tree I had.”
Jill didn’t smile and Cara knew she shouldn’t have said that. This would be Jill’s second Christmas without her husband, who’d been killed in a ski accident, and the holiday wasn’t her favorite either. She peered out the small front window again. “Was I seeing things? Or was that the infamous Brady Sullivan?”
Cara groaned. So this was why she’d stopped. “Your eyes didn’t deceive you.”
“He’s staying at the inn?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Not with his family then,” Jill murmured. “I wonder why he comes home—if he doesn’t really go home.”
“Good question.”
“He won’t need a tree at the inn.” Her gaze sharpened. “So why was he here?”
Cara explained about the truck parked in her lot. “And he’s going to rearrange my trees. Aren’t you supposed to be teaching right now?”
Her green eyes twinkled. “I was on my way to buy Christmas cookies at the Tea Pot. Today’s our party at school. My teacher’s aide is supervising the kids for an hour while they write their letters to Santa.”
“Giving you time to grill me about ‘he who shall not be mentioned.’”
Jill gave her a mock wounded look. “I was curious, that’s all.”
Cara sagged against the counter. She felt disloyal to Beth. “What was I thinking? I can’t believe I le
t him talk me into helping with the trees.”
“And here I thought he was out West. Playing Smoky the Bear in Yellowstone.”
“Glacier,” Cara murmured, not that she kept track of him, really.
“You knew!” Jill rounded the counter. “Cara, talk to me. All I got was a glimpse of that dark hair, those great shoulders and that I-own-the-world walk he has but…”
“I didn’t notice. Don’t be silly. That was twelve years ago.”
“And you’re still single.”
“Not because of Brady,” she insisted. “That would be pathetic.”
“He looks hunky to me,” Jill said. “If anything, he’s taller and even more…”
“Don’t be shallow.”
Jill eyed her for a long moment. “You still have a crush on him. Don’t you?”
Cara looked away. Because of that too, not only Beth, she hadn’t treated him very well, and now she felt guilty again. She sighed. “I hope it’s not that obvious.”
“To anyone else maybe, no,” Jill said.
Chapter 2
For the rest of the day Cara tried to forget Jill’s words and Brady. She was surprisingly busy later on—because of him?—so she could hardly pay attention to Brady fussing with her trees, sorting and dragging them to different spots while she was ringing up sales.
Maybe today’s customers simply meant the holiday was getting closer, and people didn’t want to wait until her lot was almost bare. That was, admittedly, a best-case scenario for Cara because at the end of the season the leftover trees would look like orphans to her and she’d want to cry.
By then she’d be exhausted either from brisk sales, she hoped, or the freezing weather every day that took its toll. It was after ten o’clock and a last-minute rush when she finally closed up for the night. As Beth had always said, most sales happened after work hours. People liked to bring their kids, make a family event of buying a tree. Cara didn’t have a family now. She walked out to the parking area—and with a start found Brady leaning against her car, arms crossed over his broad chest.
A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances Page 55
