by Caro Carson
Ryan set the scotch down, untouched.
“Are you in or not?” Shane asked, holding up a dollar bill.
“What?” Ryan couldn’t think straight. His loneliness was rapidly morphing into a sick sort of dread. He may have screwed up. He may have made the biggest mistake of his life.
“Are you putting a dollar down on the Cowboys this year or not?”
“Sure.” Ryan had been betting on the Dallas Cowboys to win the Thanksgiving football game since childhood, when losing a dollar had meant financial pain for the two brothers. “I don’t have any cash on me. Spot me.”
Shane sighed as if being asked for a dollar were a terrible imposition. “Here. Hold the baby.”
Madeline let herself be handed from one uncle to the other without fussing. A series of mundane little family events followed. Shane took his wallet out of his back pocket as Maggie and Jesse joined them on the porch. When Maggie held her hands out for her daughter, Madeline stoutly refused the offer and clung to Ryan’s neck. There was laughter and Maggie pretended to be outraged at Madeline’s preference for her uncle. Through it all, Ryan managed to stay on his feet and act sane. Inside, he was losing his mind.
Everything that had happened at the wedding had been real. Kristen hadn’t been lying on the Fourth of July.
Ryan walked away from his family, carrying Madeline around the edge of the kidney-shaped pool to a lounge chair. He sat and stretched his legs out on the cushions. Madeline stretched herself out on his chest.
Away from the noise of his family, Ryan called upon his analytical side. Even if Kristen had started flirting with him innocently in July, this month had been a different story. On that late flight out of Montana, Ryan had decided it was entirely too coincidental for Kristen to have run into Maggie at the movies. She must have arranged it. Then she’d pulled off a performance as a lovesick woman that had been realistic enough to fool his sister into calling him back to Rust Creek Falls. He’d already been on his way, but Kristen hadn’t known that. She’d had to use Maggie to be sure he returned.
The baby fussed a little, burrowing herself into a more comfortable sprawl on his chest. He patted the baby’s back absently and stared at the blue water of the pool as she fell asleep. In the bright light of day, the scenario that had made sense on a midnight flight was full of holes so big, it didn’t take an attorney to find them.
There was no movie theater in Rust Creek Falls. Movies were only shown on a certain Fridays in the gym. Most of the town turned out for the basketball games, Kristen had said, and he was sure that was true for the movies, as well. It was quite possible that Kristen and Maggie had run into each other there without any nefarious plotting on Kristen’s part. Ryan only knew a handful of people in town, yet he hadn’t been able to take Kristen to a donut shop without running into Lissa’s husband, the sheriff.
For the rest of his theory to work, Kristen had to have known not just that he was a Roarke, but that Maggie Crawford was, too. The biggest proof of Kristen’s innocence was her sister. Kayla was Kristen’s twin, her confidante, her biggest cheerleader. If Kristen had hatched a plan to hitch herself to Ryan for a Hollywood career, her twin would have known about it. Instead, when she’d learned that his last name was Roarke, her surprise had been genuine. Are you related to Lissa Roarke, then? Kayla was no actress. She and Kristen hadn’t known he was a Roarke until he’d told them in the barn.
Case dismissed. Kristen was innocent, and he was a fool.
He’d shattered a snow globe once again. A thousand flakes of glitter and a hundred drops of water couldn’t be put back together. Once upon a time, Christa Roarke had come and replaced the birth mother he’d lost. This time, no woman could replace Kristen Dalton. She was the only one he wanted. The only one he’d ever want.
Baby Madeline snuggled her soft head under his chin. Even a bachelor like Ryan knew that sleeping babies should not be messed with. His infant niece had him pinned to the chair when he wanted to pace restlessly. He wanted to hit a punching bag until he was too tired to think, but there’d be no escaping today. Ryan closed his eyes, remembering Kristen as he’d seen her last, a vision in Victorian blue, standing in a snow globe of a spotlight.
He had to try to fix this. He couldn’t live the rest of his life alone like a bitter old Scrooge, angry at himself for not going after the woman with the caring heart. If putting a snow globe back together was impossible, then…
Then he’d be grateful that people weren’t snow globes. He was going to fix this.
The baby wriggled. Ryan spread his hand across her back to calm her. Holding a baby, he realized, was even more soothing than brushing a horse. If he could win Kristen back, he’d give her all the horses she wanted, and as many babies as she desired.
Having babies meant getting married. It meant living together in one house as one family. He couldn’t commute from Montana to LA and be a good husband and father. Ryan knew, without a doubt, that he’d want to raise his family in Rust Creek Falls, if he could find a way to make it happen. Unfortunately, he was a lawyer, not a cowboy, and there was barely enough legal work in Rust Creek Falls to keep Maggie busy four days a week.
Kalispell wasn’t too far, and the town was easily four times the size of Rust Creek Falls. If he practiced law there, he’d never make as much money as he did here in LA, but he could make a good living. If he could win Kristen back, if he could fix the damage he’d caused, then he would never have to get on a plane and leave her behind again.
There was one thing he couldn’t do if he moved to Montana. He couldn’t run his parents’ firm for them.
The sense of obligation was familiar. He wanted his parents to be happy. He wanted to help them out any way he could, but when any way meant he couldn’t have a life with Kristen…
This was the point where he always got stuck, the point where he would give up and do something mind-numbingly physical. Not today. The baby breathed evenly, her little rib cage expanding gently under his hand, forcing him to stay still. Forcing him to find a solution.
He didn’t have one.
The sound of his mother’s laughter carried over the pool water. Ryan opened his eyes and took in the scene. Parents, siblings, their spouses. More babies on the way. His family. His foundation.
He didn’t have a solution, but he did have a family. He hadn’t trusted Kristen’s love—a crucial mistake. But in many ways he hadn’t trusted in his family’s love, either. He’d once told Kristen that he knew his parents wanted him to be as happy as Shane and Maggie, but he’d been afraid to put it to the test.
It was time he stopped silently taking on problems alone. Tonight, over pumpkin pie and turkey sandwiches, he’d rely on the family he trusted to decide the future of Roarke and Associates together.
Then he’d get on the first plane back to Montana. Would a permanent move to Rust Creek Falls be enough to convince Kristen to give him a second chance? He’d shattered that snow globe in such a spectacularly awful way that he wanted something equally spectacular to prove he’d never lose his faith in her again. He needed some way to demonstrate that he would never again be the cold-hearted bastard he’d been when he’d left her.
Madeline’s tiny fist gripped his shirt as she slept. He kissed the top of her head. Kristen’s words came back to him. What if you have children someday? Would you raise them without Santa?
Ryan ran the tip of his finger over the dimples in the back of Madeline’s hand. “You deserve a chance to believe in the magic, little one. For you, I could tolerate Santa.”
The germ of an idea started to form.
Carefully, he got to his feet and carried his niece over to the family. “Maggie. Shane. I need your help. Who do you know in the mayor’s office in Kalispell?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There was no performance on the day after Thanksgiving.
Kristen should have been thankful for the respite. Tonight, she wouldn’t have to relive the horrible feeling of losing the man she loved. Instead, she had to play a role that seemed even more daunting. She had to ride on a float in a Christmas parade, smiling and waving and throwing candy and generally acting like she was in a happy holiday mood.
The entire cast of A Christmas Carol was assembled on a flatbed truck that had been turned into a float. Kristen wore her full costume. In addition to the corset and hoops, the heavy skirt and tight bodice, she carried a faux fur muff and wore modern long johns under her dress, because tonight, the snowfall was real.
They waited at one end of Main Street near a high school band, a motorcycle club and a cluster of rodeo riders whose horses were dressed to the nines in silver saddles and fancy tack. Kristen looked away from the rodeo riders.
The last float featured Santa Claus himself, who would join the mayor in lighting the Christmas tree in Depot Park.
Santa Claus. The symbol of everything magical and wonderful about the holidays for her was a symbol of misery for Ryan. Was it any wonder that a man who didn’t believe in Santa couldn’t believe that her love was real, either?
It took every bit of acting skill she had to look happy through the entire parade. Two miles had never crawled by so slowly, but her ordeal wasn’t over yet. Because of their picturesque costumes, the cast had been asked to wait by the Christmas tree until Santa’s float arrived. When Santa lit the tree, the cast would add charm and holiday spirit to the town’s official photos. They would be posted on websites and spread around social media. The exposure would have been nice if Kristen was trying to get jobs outside her hometown, but no matter what Ryan Roarke thought, she wasn’t. The only things she’d get out of this photo session were frozen toes.
She stamped her feet and clutched her hands more tightly together inside her muff. The cast had been on the first float. Santa was on the last.
“Okay, let’s have everyone line up now, half on each side of the tree.” The Kalispell newspaper photographer also doubled as the wedding photographer for most of the couples in town, so he was pretty quick about getting everyone posed, ready and waiting.
Hurry, Santa. I want to go home. It’s been at least five hours since I last cried. I’m overdue.
At last, the float with Santa’s cardboard and plywood sleigh arrived. Kristen plastered on her smile when the cameras started to flash.
Santa dismounted his float with ease, moving in a way that was far more sprightly than his white beard would indicate he was capable of. This year’s Santa was as tall as he was wide. He worked his way through the crowd, passing out candy canes to the children, who jumped excitedly at the sight of him. With every “ho, ho, ho,” the children squealed in delight. Kristen’s stiff smile relaxed into something more genuine, as well.
“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas.”
Kristen jerked her gaze away from the children to study Santa instead.
“Merry Christmas,” Santa called again.
He sounded like Ryan.
Her mind was playing tricks on her. Ryan was in LA, where he belonged. Her sister had made some polite small talk with Lissa Christensen the day after Kristen and Ryan’s fight, and Lissa had said that her cousin had left a day early, probably to put out a fire at his law firm.
Kristen knew he’d only wanted to get away from her as quickly as he could. He’d been so full of self-righteous anger—all of it directed so unfairly at her—that he’d wanted to put a thousand miles between them.
Kayla had also broken the mortifying news to her that if Lissa was Ryan’s cousin, that meant Maggie Crawford was Ryan’s sister. Apparently, she was Maggie Roarke Crawford. When Kristen remembered that meltdown at the movies, she didn’t know how she’d ever look Maggie in the eye again.
“Smile, please. Keep smiling.” The photographer hadn’t stopped snapping yet. Kristen obediently forced her face into a semblance of happiness.
“Ho, ho, ho.”
Honestly, that man sounded just like Ryan. Impossible—even if Ryan had returned to town to visit his sister or cousin, he would never, ever be caught dead in a Santa suit.
With his sack of candy canes now empty, Santa walked to the tree and shook the mayor’s hand. The switch was thrown, the lights came to life and the crowd went wild. So did the camera flashes.
Santa chose to stand right between the only two women, Kristen and the actress playing Mrs. Cratchit. It could have been Kristen’s imagination, but Santa seemed to give her an extra warm squeeze. Was Mrs. Cratchit feeling such a strong arm around her waist?
“Ryan…?”
This man didn’t seem to be angry at her at all. Considering how furious Ryan had been just days ago, it couldn’t be him. Then again, Santa was an important role. Santa could never get angry in front of children—and Ryan would never ruin Christmas for a child, despite its having been ruined for him.
But Ryan also had no earthly reason to ever wear a Santa suit. Whoever this year’s Santa was, it couldn’t be the man who’d so recently broken her heart. It was pitiful that she missed Ryan badly enough to imagine it was him.
At last, the ceremony was over, the photographer was satisfied, and the cast was free to return to the theater to remove their costumes. Santa offered Kristen his arm as she headed across the green to the theater, and they each smiled and returned waves from the children and adults they passed.
They entered the theater through the stage door, which led almost directly to the black curtains of the wings. Santa looked all around, turning in a full three-sixty. “Are there any children here? No? Good. I’d hate to confuse the little kids.”
He pulled off his hat with one hand and his white beard with the other, and turned to kiss Kristen, hard.
She hadn’t seen his face, but it didn’t matter. She recognized his kiss.
“Ryan.” She murmured his name against his lips, but before she could begin to ask him the questions his presence raised, he spoke.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for being a stubborn, pigheaded jerk.”
“But…” She shook her head at his padded costume, just one more mystifying piece of the puzzle that was Ryan. “Why?”
“Because I hurt you. I jumped to all the wrong conclusions, and I refused to listen to you when you told me the truth. I don’t deserve it, but please forgive me.”
“I meant, why are you Santa Claus? This is like your worst nightmare.”
“Not even close. Losing you is my worst nightmare.”
Most of the actors had made their way back to the dressing rooms, but Ryan pulled her deeper into the wings, where the black curtains muffled their voices and gave them a sense of privacy.
“I’m wearing this suit so you’ll know that I mean it when I promise you that I won’t make the same mistakes twice.”
“You won’t assume I’m some kind of gold-digging, movie star wannabe?”
Well, that had rolled off her tongue a little too easily. She’d had a week to relive every painful word he’d said to her, though.
He dropped his head for a moment, chagrined, then looked at her again with such tenderness in his expression, it took her breath away. “For starters, yes. That kind of mistake. I’m so sorry. Do you know why I assumed the worst? Because those were the only type of women I’d known. They were the only type of women I dated, because they couldn’t hurt me. They didn’t matter. If they walked away, nothing inside me would shatter.”
He touched her face with one hand, tentatively cupping her cheek, then stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. “But you, Kristen, you matter.”
“Oh, Ryan.” Kristen turned her face into his hand.
“I didn’t know how to handle that. You are this wonderful, remarkable, beautiful woman who somehow fell into my hands, but I didn’t know how to hold you. I was so afraid I’d lose something good, that I was paralyzed. I did nothing. That was a mistake, too.
“I was afraid to lie to you and afraid to tell you the truth at the same time. I told myself you couldn’t handle too many corrections all at once, but the only real truth was that I was petrified I’d lose the best thing in my life. That’s you. That will always be you.
“I learned when I was young that nothing good lasts forever, but I don’t think that’s true any longer, not after meeting you. I believe forever is possible, a good forever, as long as I can spend it with you. I’m wearing this Santa suit because I’m not going to avoid the good things in life anymore. I hope that, someday, you’ll love me again. I hope that you’ll trust me not to make the same mistakes again.”
Kristen swallowed past the lump in her throat. Just seeing his face again, just being touched by him again, made her happier than she could have believed possible just a short time ago. She pressed her hand to heart, feeling out of breath from the emotions.
“If you can’t forgive me tonight, I understand,” Ryan said. “I screwed up badly, but I’ll be here tomorrow. And next week. Next year. You promised me you’d never walk away from me, and I’m here to make the same promise back. I’m staying. Right here in Montana, right here with you, until you believe me when I say I love you.”
“Oh, Ryan.” Kristen tried to throw her arms around his neck, but his red suit’s padding was completely in the way. Her hoops pushed gracefully behind her when she got close to him, but his stuffed belly stayed stuffed.
