The Godmother (Everland Ever After Book 11)

by Caroline Lee

  But she didn’t seem to be thinking about that when she gave him a big grin. “I think that’s a fine idea. I’m excited to see how the evening shakes down.”

  He had to smile at her adorably unique combination of fine manners and poker-table speech. That’s one of the things he loved about her.

  Because, oh yes, he loved this woman.

  Bringing her hands to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her gloved skin. “Tomorrow it is then.”

  She smiled. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter 9

  “I gotta say, Chris, you’re much more relaxed today.”

  Christa shrugged, one corner of her lips pulling up in a rueful grin as she deftly dealt the next hand and tried not to yawn. Despite the recent restless nights, she was more relaxed than she’d been last time she’d played Max DeVille, and it was entirely thanks to the third man sitting at their table.

  “It’s almost Christmas,” she pointed out, as an excuse. It was a good one; the town was decorated festively, and even the bartender at The Gingerbread House was whistling a carol as he washed glasses. The fact it was the afternoon of December twenty-third meant the saloon was nearly empty.

  Max chuckled as he scooped up the cards. “That’s enough to make any man relax. I’m glad you stuck around Everland long enough to celebrate. We’ve got a really nice Christmas celebration happening tomorrow night.”

  She wasn’t sure if Max was even paying attention to his words, or if his mouth just ran while he was looking at his hand. She exchanged a glance with Andrew and loved the way his lips twitched as well.

  “I’m rather excited myself,” Andrew said, speaking to Max, but looking at Christa. “Last year’s was cancelled, but my family tells me it’s one of the biggest celebrations of the year, outside of July Fourth. Great food, good music, and lots of fun.”

  Max hummed, snapped his cards together, then tapped them on the table. “Your turn to open,” he told Christa, then shifted to speak to Andrew. “Are you bringing a date tomorrow?”

  “A date?” The older man blinked.

  Max must’ve assumed he’d misunderstood. “Sure, a lady friend. Like this woman I’ve been hearing all about. I want to meet her!”

  “Oh, you will.” Chuckling, Andrew matched the bet and the play continued.

  Christa had had to stop herself a few times from blurting out her questions to Max. Doing so would raise his suspicions, and that irked her. Why couldn’t she just come out and ask him how he felt about Sibyl Miller, if he even knew her at all? The rules were silly.

  Maybe you’re not cut out to be a godmother after all.

  She knew the part of her mind which was whispering those doubts was also the part connected to her libido. The part which knew becoming a godmother meant giving up the chance of a future with Andrew.

  But Andrew hadn’t indicated he wanted a future with her. Last night, he’d introduced her to his family, which she’d thought had been a pretty good sign. But then after, in the street, when she’d thrown herself into his arms, and it had felt so right, so natural…but he hadn’t kissed her. She’d been all but begging for it, and he had stepped back.

  It was that tiny doubt, that second-guess, which meant Christa couldn’t go all-in when it came to a future with him.

  That was the reason she hadn’t completely given up on becoming a godmother. Or maybe it was because she was stubborn and wanted to see this through to the end. Sibyl Miller was her assignment, and no matter what direction her future went, she wanted to be the one to ensure Sibyl’s happily ever after.

  Preferably with Max because the young man deserved some happiness as well.

  Andrew won that hand, and Max the next. Christa wasn’t focusing, which was irritating.

  You know Max’s tell. Use it.

  On the other hand, maybe he’d be more likely to like her, to talk to her when she eventually did start asking questions, if he won a few more times.

  Well, no reason you can’t take Andrew’s money.

  The thought made her snort.

  “Everything alright, Chris?” Andrew asked, in that refined tone of his.

  She shot him a heated look she hoped Max wouldn’t recognize.

  “Just peachy,” she murmured. “I’m just considering how best to win this hand.”

  Max let loose a bark of surprised laughter. “He’s not subtle, eh, Andrew?”

  “No, he’s not.” Andrew was looking at his chips, but he was smiling, and seeing it made her stomach flip-flop. “But he’s got his work cut out for him.”

  With that, he pushed a pile of chips—about two hundred dollars—into the pot.

  It was a challenge, but one she could thankfully meet. Thanks, mainly, to her win against him last time. But she’d have to be careful; it would be terrible if he actually managed to win and clean her out. She’d have to leave the game, which meant she wouldn’t have the chance to grill Max.

  Also, less money to send home.

  But somewhere along the way, that goal had become less of a priority.

  So she took a deep breath, forced herself to relax, and studied her hand. She knew what she had, and she could guess what Max held, based on the way he’d been betting. But Andrew…?

  When she looked up and met his eyes, he held her gaze steadily.

  A little too steadily.

  He’s bluffing.

  Trying to keep her lips from twitching at his audacity, she matched his bet. “I call.”

  Max had the two pair she’d assumed he had, and Andrew had a single pair of queens. Neither beat her full house, but she managed not to crow as she raked in the pot.

  “He’s good,” Max huffed, as he pulled the discarded cards toward him to shuffle. “And he goaded you into bluffing; I hope you know that.”

  “I do.” Andrew was grinning; she could hear it in his voice, although she didn’t look up to confirm it, afraid of what might show on her face if she did. “And I’ll try to remember that lesson in the future.”

  The future. A future with Andrew.

  She played conservatively over the next few hands, chiming in on the conversation as she felt she could. Mostly, Andrew and Max talked about their respective businesses, and it became clear Max really respected the older man and asked his opinion on many things.

  It also became clear Max was chafing in Everland, under his father’s thumb, and no longer having a real challenge at the horse ranch he’d founded with his partner.

  Maybe marriage will be enough of a challenge to keep him happy.

  Christa had to cling to that hope, or she’d worry her plan wasn’t going to be in Max’s best interest.

  When it was her turn to deal again, Andrew was complaining about his businesses in Scotland. “I suppose what I need to do is take another trip to the old sod. I need to look things over.”

  “And choose a foreman you can trust,” Max offered. “If you had someone over there to handle all these day-to-day problems, you wouldn’t have to worry about them all the way out here in Wyoming.”

  “You’re right, but that would mean a trip to Scotland to interview the man.” Andrew sighed, staring at his hand, although he clearly wasn’t really seeing the cards. “But I’m happy here in Everland. I don’t particularly want to go to Scotland, even in the spring, if it would mean leaving my family any longer.”

  “And your new lady friend,” Max teased.

  Andrew glanced up and caught Christa’s eye. “And my new lady friend.”

  Since he was looking at her—and she was trying her damnedest not to blush—Christa blurted, “She sounds nice.”

  “She’s the most interesting, most beautiful, woman I’ve ever met,” Andrew said seriously, holding her gaze.

  Beautiful?

  She swallowed. “She—she must be young and rich and carefree then.”

  She wasn’t certain if she was teasing him or daring him to defy her words. He held her gaze and shook his head slowly.

  “She’s not young, but not old either. She
’s not rich, but she’s worked hard for everything she does have, and that makes her laudable. And intriguing. She’s smart and witty, and her eyes light up when she’s around me. She makes my heart happy.”

  Oh. Oh my.

  The words, spoken to “Chris,” were the most wonderful things Christa had ever heard.

  But it was Max who broke the silence, clearing his throat. “That’s beautiful,” he said simply. “I’d like that one day.”

  Andrew broke eye contact with her to send a gentle smile Max’s way. “You will, my friend. Maybe sooner than you know.”

  This was her cue! How come she couldn’t make her voice work?

  “Do you—” Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Due to her lack of sleep, or was it because of Andrew’s recent words? She took a hasty sip of the whiskey in front of her, cleared her throat, then tried again. “Do you have your eye on any particular lady?”

  “Nah,” Max drawled, his attention on the cards he held. “There’s been plenty of interesting ladies in Everland over the last few years, but they’ve all found love with my friends.”

  Was this the sort of thing men talked about while playing cards? Christa had never experienced it before, that was for sure, but she knew Max was a kindhearted young man, who wore his heart on his sleeve.

  “How about Greta Doktor?” Andrew suggested, and Max winced.

  “She’s awfully young.” It was clear Max had an opinion—a negative one—about a relationship with Greta, whoever she was, but he was too polite to say what he really thought, even as he tossed out his discards. “Three please.”

  Barely paying attention to the game, Christa dealt him three cards off the top. “There’s got to be other single women in town.” She pretended to think about it. “I recall hearing your sister-in-law— What’s her name?” she tried to make her voice light and nonchalant.

  “Mabel? Roy Jr.’s wife?” Max offered.

  “Yeah, doesn’t she have a sister?”

  Christa kept her eyes on her hand, but her attention was on the young man across the table as she held her breath.

  But Max just shrugged. “Sibyl Miller, yeah. She’s nice.” When Christa—giving into the urge—looked up, Max winked at her. “She’s pretty and still available if you’re interested.”

  What the—?

  Oh, yeah, Max thought she was a man.

  Ducking her head, Christa tried to shadow her expression with the brim of her hat, hoping he didn’t see how flummoxed she was.

  What kind of response was that? Was Max interested in Sibyl or not?

  Andrew—bless him—had either picked up on her confusion or wanted clarification for himself. “So…you’re not?”

  “Not what?”

  “Not interested in her, since you’re trying to match her up with my friend Chris here?”

  Max burst into laughter. “That makes me sound like a matchmaker, doesn’t it?” He shrugged, still chuckling, and tossed his hand down onto the green baize, as if uninterested in the game anymore. “I confess I’ve done my share of introducing, and I’ve even offered some friendly advice to my friends when they needed it.”

  Andrew’s brow twitched. “So you’re a matchmaker?”

  He glanced at Christa as if to say, “Him too?” but she just shook her head slightly, warning him not to give her away.

  Max blew out a breath, which sounded more like a sigh, and ran both hands through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. “I dunno. I just want my friends to be happy.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to be happy.”

  “And you don’t think Sibyl could make you happy?” she asked, a little too eager.

  Max dragged his hands over his short, wiry curls again—forward, then back—as he winced. “Sibyl’s a nice girl. Pretty too, to be honest. I’ve known her and her sisters for years, and I wish the best for them.”

  “But…?” Christa realized she was leaning forward in frustration, and forced herself to relax, to sit normally in her chair, before she tipped her hand and Max realized she wasn’t really Chris O’Hare.

  But he didn’t. Instead, Max shrugged, one side of his lips curling self-deprecatingly, as he slapped the table and scooped up his cards. “Why do you care?”

  Easy, Christa. Play it off as a joke.

  She shrugged and planted her elbows on the table, making certain her hat hid most of her features. “Think of me as your Godmoth—father.”

  “My Godfather, eh?” Max’s smile turned wry as he made a point of leaning around her to check her back. “I don’t see any wings.”

  “I didn’t say fairy godmo—father, did I?” Christa asked with a snort, which had both men chuckling. “I’m just curious is all.”

  “Well then, Chris,” Max began, and Christa felt a moment of panic he’d seen through her disguise, before he continued, “I’ll tell you the truth. Sibyl’s not for me. She doesn’t make my heart beat faster, or my palms sweaty, or any of the other signs.”

  Andrew was studying his young friend. “Signs?”

  Without looking up from his cards, Max said simply, “Signs of love.”

  “You’re a romantic!” Andrew’s words weren’t accusatory, but Max flinched. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  Max’s dark gaze was serious when he looked up and met Andrew’s eyes. “I absolutely believe in love at first sight. I’ve seen it happen enough times around here that I’ve started to joke there’s something in the water. But it hasn’t happened to me.”

  Holding his gaze for a few beats longer than would be considered normal, Andrew breathed steadily in and out, before he finally nodded firmly and turned to Christa. “He believes in love at first sight, and it hasn’t happened to him yet.”

  Well dang.

  If there was something between Max DeVille and Sibyl Miller, he would’ve had to have fallen in love with her years ago, when he’d met her for the first time.

  Double dang.

  Suddenly, Max sat forward, the sound of the front two chair legs hitting the ground told her he’d been leaning back. His gaze was over Andrew’s shoulder. “Hey! Since you’re so interested in Sibyl…”

  Andrew twisted, searching the front of the saloon. “What?”

  Pointing toward one of the windows, Max beamed. “Sibyl just strolled by. I guess she’s home for Christmas!”

  Finally!

  Christa stood before she even knew what her plan was. Luckily, Max and Andrew weren’t far behind her, and as they all reached for their coats—leaving the cards unplayed at the table—she had the presence of mind to hang back and let the men go first, since Sibyl would recognize them.

  Part of her was still cursing at the fact she was going to have to go back through all her notes and find a new beau for Sibyl, but the rest was just thrilled to finally be meeting her client.

  That thrill lasted right up until she got a good look at the girl.

  As Max greeted her enthusiastically, asking about her trip, Christa eyed Sibyl. Oh, she was pretty alright, just as her file had said. Pretty and sweet and dressed in the latest fashions.

  And absolutely enamored with the man by her side, judging by the moonstruck looks she kept giving him.

  “Max, this is my husband, Gerald Charmin.”

  Christa’s mouth dropped open, and she was certain Andrew’s had as well. Max, on the other hand, took it all in stride as he thrust his hand out to the newcomer.

  “Nice to meet you, Gerald. Can I call you Gerald? I’m Max DeVille, Sibyl’s brother by marriage.”

  The man—who was really quite handsome and wearing an expensive suit—beamed as he shook Max’s hand. “Then I owe you my thanks for keeping this treasure safe for me until I could meet her.”

  “You’re from Denver?” Max asked, obviously happy for the couple.

  Sighing, Sibyl snuggled closer to the man—her husband. Her husband?

  “Gerry and I were on the same train heading south. It was love at first sight, I believe.”

&
nbsp; “I know, treasure,” the man murmured, stars in his own eyes as he smiled down at her.

  She simpered happily. “He took me home to meet his family—the Charmins are Denver’s upper crust, you know”—she said, in an aside to Max—“and it’s been a whirlwind romance. When he asked me, I had to say yes! We’re only in Everland to collect my things and give Mabel the news, then it’s back to Denver. The ball of the season is tomorrow night, you know. All of Denver will be there!”

  “And I’m determined to introduce them to my new wife on Christmas Eve!” her husband finished.

  Triple dang.

  Sibyl Miller was already married. She was Sibyl Charmin now. She had gotten married…without Christa’s help.

  Holidays are particularly romantic. Of course. Of course.

  Sibyl had needed a husband, and she’d acquired one—by Christmas no less—all on her own.

  How many dangs was she up to now? Maybe it was time to start switching to a harsher word.

  As Max shook Gerald’s hand again and leaned in to kiss Sibyl’s cheek in congratulations, Christa’s head began to pound. She realized she’d forgotten to breathe and sucked in a great breath as she stumbled away from the happy reunion, back into the saloon.

  Andrew followed.

  “Christa?” he murmured, catching her arm as she sucked in big gulps of air. “How can I help?”

  “You can help by coming up with a curse word nasty enough for the situation.”

  He snorted slightly at her joke and caught her gaze, his hand gentle on her upper arm even as he held her in place. “This is a good thing. You wanted Sibyl married,” he said in a low voice, “and now she is. Maybe not to Max, but she seems really happy.”

  “She seemed delirious,” she hissed, her eyes flicking back to the sight through the window. “His name is Charmin, for Lord’s sake!”

  “So what’s the problem?” Andrew’s eyes searched her face, worried. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “The problem is…I didn’t do it. I didn’t match her up. Which means I failed.”

  Andrew sucked in a startled breath, his eyes going wide. His shock allowed her to shake off his hand, and she stepped away from him, not certain how she was feeling.