Stranded for the Holidays

by Lisa Carter

  She was putting the finishing touches on the last plate of eggs when Hunter tromped into the kitchen.

  Grabbing her around the legs, he gave her an exuberant hug. “AnnaBef!”

  His father trailed after him, carrying a child-size backpack. “Gramma’s going to stay here and take it easy this morning.”

  AnnaBeth helped Hunter climb into his seat at the table. “Maybe I should stay here and—”

  “But I want you to see my classwoom.”

  Jonas held out AnnaBeth’s chair. She smiled at him and sat down.

  A cowboy and a gentleman... Be still my heart.

  Taking a seat, Jonas said grace and then wasted no time digging into breakfast. Making sure Hunter had a firm grip on the juice glass, she watched Jonas for his reaction to her culinary effort.

  “Are the eggs okay? Would you rather I—”

  “The eggs are delicious. Thank you.”

  She angled toward Hunter. “Maybe he would prefer his eggs fried?” She started to rise.

  Jonas put his hand over hers as Hunter shoveled another forkful into his mouth. “I think he likes them just fine, don’t you, Hunt?”

  “Yummy.” In between bites, Hunter nodded. “Dank you, AnnaBef.”

  “You are very welcome, sweet boy.”

  Jonas sipped his coffee. “You said you didn’t cook often. Why’s that?”

  “I like to cook, but we had Mrs. Salisbury. She didn’t like MaryDru and I to be in the kitchen.”

  He cocked his head. “You had a professional cook in residence?”

  “Nobody ever crossed Mrs. Salisbury. I think even Victoria was afraid of her.” She smiled. “But I like eating here much better than our huge dining room. Cozier. Nicer.”

  Then their cozy, nice beginning to the day ended. There was a mad scramble to get Hunter into proper winter gear. She scurried around getting the kitchen to rights.

  But AnnaBeth was at her best when taking care of other people. She loved nothing better. And as the rays of the sun climbed ever higher over the mountain ridge, there was an added bonus. Going to town meant spending more time in the company of Jonas.

  AnnaBeth, this isn’t going to end well for you.

  Buttoning Hunter’s coat, Jonas gave her that lovely lopsided smile of his. Her heart fluttered.

  For the love of sweet potatoes, get a grip.

  “Ready, AnnaBeth?”

  She smiled, switching off the doubts in her head. “I’m ready, Jonas,” she said.

  * * *

  Every day, a little more of the snow melted. But, aware of the threat of black ice, Jonas was cautious driving into town. The truck clanked over the bridge spanning the river. They passed the Welcome-to-Truelove sign.

  “‘Where true love awaits...’” AnnaBeth said, reading aloud. “Huh.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Exactly.”

  “I guess it’s back to business as usual.”

  His mouth curved. “This is what passes for rush hour in Truelove.” He turned his head. “Unlike the morning traffic you’re used to in Charlotte, I’m sure.”

  “It’s nice. Truelove is charming.”

  He grimaced. “That’s cause you’ve only been here five minutes.”

  “You don’t fool me, Jonas Stone. You love this little mountain town, and you know it.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, you’ve got me there. I guess I do.”

  Problem was, Kasey hadn’t. And probably no one else—like AnnaBeth—would be content to live here, either.

  Despite his idle daydreaming, what would a sophisticated city girl like AnnaBeth do in a backwater place like Truelove?

  * * *

  AnnaBeth scanned the shops on Main Street. “I’m not sure how in the world I ended up on the mountain instead of in town.”

  Jonas turned into the preschool parking lot off the town square.

  Hunter hugged her arm. “God knew we needed you, AnnaBef.”

  Thing was, she was beginning to suspect it was actually the other way around. It was she who needed them.

  She got out of the truck and helped Hunter put on his backpack. He’d insisted on wearing his cowboy hat. Hunter had also looped a small coil of rope around one of the straps of the backpack. Apparently, a must-have cowboy accessory.

  So, so cute.

  An idea for a future post? Except she’d title it Must-Have Accessories for the Well-Dressed Cowgirl.

  Jonas patted his shoulder. “Are you glad to be back at school, Hunt?”

  “I guess.” Hunter squared his jaw. “But I don’t want de sunshine to melt awe de snow. ’Cause den AnnaBef might go away.”

  “But AnnaBeth’s going to have to—” Lips thinning, Jonas ushered them into the building.

  She threw him a glance. The moody cowboy was back. He’d seemed so lighthearted in the truck. But just as quickly, he’d reverted to his usual, closed-off, gruff self.

  Frankly, she was beginning to get whiplash trying to keep up with his changing moods.

  * * *

  Jonas walked his son and AnnaBeth into the classroom.

  “You’re here.” A bubbly little girl with curly blond hair ran over and gave Hunter a hug.

  “Dis is my best fwend in de world, AnnaBef.” Solemn as a parson, Hunter stuck his thumbs in his belt loops. “Dis is Maisie.”

  And like the proper lady she was, AnnaBeth held out her hand to the little girl. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Maisie.”

  Jonas spotted Maisie’s dad working his way around the preschoolers toward them.

  “AnnaBeth, this is Jake McAbee, Maisie’s father. His family owns the Apple Valley Orchard.” Jonas clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Jake, this is AnnaBeth Cummings. She’s staying at the lodge.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” The sandy-blond-haired orchard grower extended his hand. “I didn’t realize the FieldStone took guests this time of year.”

  She shook his hand. “Hunter and Jonas found me stranded on the side of the road during the snowstorm and took pity on me.”

  “More like she took pity on us.” Jonas smiled. “Mom’s under the weather. AnnaBeth’s been pitching in at the ranch with Hunter and chores.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mom, Jonas. Callie will probably insist on bringing y’all a pie.”

  The tenderness in Jake’s eyes when he said his wife’s name caught Jonas square in the chest. A sharp, lonely feeling. Always on the outside of love, never on the inside.

  Saying goodbye, Maisie’s father departed. At Hunter’s insistence, AnnaBeth met his preschool teacher and most of his classmates before Jonas succeeded in pulling her away.

  Next stop—Zach’s auto-repair shop.

  She sailed into the garage ahead of Jonas. “Hopefully, good news. Fingers crossed.”

  But instead of relief at the prospect of sending her on her way at long last, a strange feeling of impending doom came over him.

  Zach emerged from the office, wiping his greasy hands on a cloth. “Cuz. Miss AnnaBeth.”

  Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “Zach.” Was it his imagination, or was his cousin avoiding eye contact?

  Gaze plastered to the concrete, Zach stuffed the rag into his pocket. “What can I do for you folks today?”

  “You can tell us when you estimate you’ll have AnnaBeth’s car repaired.”

  “About that?” Zach made a face. “There’s been an unforeseen delay with the order.”

  She frowned. “What kind of delay?”

  Jonas folded his arms. “You ordered the part when we saw you on Monday, didn’t you?”

  Zach scraped his hand over his mouth. “Well, you see, after you left, Miss GeorgeAnne stopped by...”

  Jonas jutted his jaw. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “She said she was hearing a funny noise
in her truck engine. Insisted I take a look. Spent a good hour—”

  “Did you order the part or not, Zach?”

  “I meant to, Jonas, but I got distracted. And then after she left—”

  “Spill it, cousin.”

  Zach spread his arms wide. “I couldn’t find the paperwork I’d written up with the parts number. I looked and looked, but then Aunt IdaLee called.” He gave AnnaBeth a sheepish look. “She had dinner on the table and wanted me to come straight over. I don’t get home-cooked meals often.”

  AnnaBeth nodded. “So, of course, you had to go.”

  Zach’s shoulders relaxed. “She was counting on me.”

  “We were counting on you,” he growled.

  And to his thinking, it was no coincidence GeorgeAnne Allen had been on the premises when the paperwork did a vanishing act.

  “You hated to disappoint her,” AnnaBeth said, in that soothing voice of hers.

  “Thank you, AnnaBeth.” Zach sniffed. “I’m glad some people still have a heart.”

  “What’s your excuse for not placing the order on Tuesday, cousin?”

  Zach rubbed his neck. “Monday night Aunt IdaLee made it clear. It’s you or me, cuz,” he mumbled.

  Jonas glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Zach’s eyebrows rose. “I think you and I both know what that means.”

  “Stop gnashing your teeth at him, Jonas.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure Zach will rewrite the paperwork this morning and get the part ordered first thing.”

  Jonas made an elaborate show of looking at his watch. “It’s going on ten o’clock. So much for first thing. What are we looking at, Zach?” He planted his hands on his hips. “Another two days?”

  Zach pushed out his lips. “Three at the most.”

  “Not like we have any choice, do we, since you’re the only repair shop in town?” He made a noise in the back of his throat. “I absolutely cannot believe you, Zach. I can’t believe them.”

  Zach shuffled his feet. “I’ll try to overnight the part, if it’ll make you happy. But don’t you dare let on.”

  He jabbed his index finger at his cousin. “I’ll tell you what would make me happy...”

  She tugged at his arm. “Coffee would make me happy. And possibly one of those apple-cider doughnuts Hunter told me about might sweeten your disposition, too.”

  He allowed himself to be towed from the garage. “This is exactly what I feared from the beginning.”

  She ignored him. “A short walk will do you good.”

  Leaving the truck parked, he stalked across the green toward the Mason Jar. “I knew they were brazen, but I had no idea they’d stoop to this.”

  He slowed his pace when he realized he was practically dragging her alongside him.

  “They who?” She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “Stoop to what?”

  What hadn’t escaped his attention this morning was how pretty she looked in the soft-as-a-cloud, lavender sweater. Even to his untrained eye, he recognized the fabric as an expensive cashmere.

  “We’ve been sabotaged, AnnaBeth.” He reached for the handle on the café door. “On an industrial scale. The matchmakers have conspired with Zach to keep you from leaving town.”

  He threw open the door for her. The overhead bell jangled.

  She let go of his arm. “Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested we come here, Jonas. I’m so sorry for embarrassing you. You’d probably prefer not to be seen with me.”

  The door whooshed shut behind them.

  “It’s me who’s embarrassed.” Finding her hand, he laced his fingers in hers. “We must look like a bunch of backward hicks to you.”

  Only gradually did he become aware the crowded diner had gone silent. Raising his head, he found himself staring straight into the gazes of the three matchmakers at their usual table. Dropping her hand, he went rigid.

  “Not them,” he groaned. “Anybody but them.”

  * * *

  Following the track of Jonas’s gaze across the diner, AnnaBeth noted the three old women seated at a table on the far wall near a bulletin board.

  Recognizing ErmaJean, she surmised these women must be the matchmakers that had half the town—the male half, at least—running scared.

  But no one liked to be railroaded. She should know. AnnaBeth glanced at Jonas. And no one liked to be forced to do something they didn’t want to do.

  Why was everyone staring? So quiet she could’ve heard a pin drop, she felt her cheeks heat. She took a quick, indrawn breath. What would Victoria have done in this situation?

  Suddenly, though, AnnaBeth knew. “Let me handle this.”

  “Wh-what?” he stammered.

  “A good offense is the best defense.” She brushed her hair off her shoulders. “I’ve got this.”

  AnnaBeth sailed across the diner toward the matchmakers. Leaving Jonas to flee, or follow in her wake.

  She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d fled. But he was made of sterner stuff. She should’ve known he’d have her back. He was a cowboy, after all.

  When they spotted her headed their way, the old women’s eyes appeared about to pop out of their sockets.

  AnnaBeth widened her smile. “Ladies.” She steepled her hands underneath her chin. “I can’t tell y’all how de-lighted I am to finally make your acquaintance.”

  ErmaJean recovered first. AnnaBeth wasn’t surprised. She’d been told ErmaJean was the most talkative.

  The twins’ grandmother nodded at her matchmaking compatriots. “This is AnnaBeth, ladies.”

  Seriously? As if the other two didn’t already know her name? These women had no idea whom they were dealing with.

  AnnaBeth laughed, injecting a merry note into her voice. “And I am so purr-fectly de-lighted to meet y’all.”

  She flicked her eyes at Jonas. Too much? But he winked. Her smile broadened.

  “Jonas has told me so-o-o much about you. Such dears, you are.”

  The women gaped.

  She smiled hugely at the angular, faintly terrifying woman with the ice-blue eyes and short, iron-gray hair. “Miss GeorgeAnne.”

  “AnnaBeth.” GeorgeAnne the Formidable harrumphed. “A double name, like us.”

  Hands clasped to her bosom, she batted her eyes at the oldest and most diminutive member of the trio. “And you must be Jonas’s great-aunt, IdaLee.”

  Jonas’s eyes ping-ponged from his aunt to AnnaBeth.

  “Do you think I could join your double-name club? Maybe I can also become an honorary matchmaker in Truelove.” She struck a dramatic pose. “Where true love awaits.”

  GeorgeAnne’s eyes got squinty. ErmaJean opened her mouth, but AnnaBeth beat her to the punch.

  “I understand you three are also single.” Beaming at them, AnnaBeth clapped her hands together. “I simply can’t wait to help you ladies find your perfect match, too.”

  Silverware clanged. Customers gasped. The Truelove Matchmakers appeared speechless.

  “Shots fired,” choked Jonas.

  AnnaBeth fluttered her lashes at GeorgeAnne. “I’ve got my eye on a certain judge for you.” She swung toward IdaLee. “How do you feel about insurance salesmen?” AnnaBeth tapped her finger on her chin. “But I’m saving a retired school administrator for you, Miss ErmaJean.”

  ErmaJean sputtered.

  “Alas, dear ones.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ve no time to share my plans for your personal love connections with you today, but perhaps another time. Soon.” Twisting her lips, she gave them the I-mean-business look. “Count on it.”

  Jonas bit back a strangled laugh. They’d better get out of here before he lost it.

  AnnaBeth snagged hold of his coat. “Have yourselves a wonderful day now, ladies, you hear?”

  Waggling her fingers at the mat
chmakers, she couldn’t be certain, but she thought she saw IdaLee’s lips twitch.

  They no sooner exited the diner than Jonas collapsed against an SUV in the parking lot. “I can’t believe you...”

  Sudden doubts assailed her.

  Yet doubled over with his hands on his knees, tears of merriment leaked out of his eyes. “The look on their faces...”

  Had she made a perfect fool of herself in front of the whole town?

  “Was it too over-the-top?”

  “About time somebody turned the tables on those scheming seniors.” He swiped his hand across his eyes. “AnnaBeth Cummings, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  It may have been her imagination, but she thought she detected something besides admiration in his eyes.

  All at once, she didn’t care if her car ever got fixed. Not if it meant she’d have to leave this cowboy behind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thursday morning, Christmas songs blared from the small radio on a workbench in the bay of Zach’s garage.

  Jonas scowled at his cousin. “Let me get this straight. You still don’t have the part for AnnaBeth’s car?”

  Zach met his gaze head-on. “This time it isn’t my fault, Jonas.”

  “Forgive me if I have trouble believing you, Zach.” He shook his head. “You told me you were going to overnight it.”

  “And I did.” His cousin folded his arms. “But AnnaBeth’s special-delivery part wasn’t on the freight truck with the other packages. I don’t know what happened.”

  Jonas scrubbed his neck. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea exactly what happened.” He stalked outside and threw himself into the truck.

  As he passed the hardware store, he considered confronting GeorgeAnne, but instead he gunned the motor and decided to save time by tackling the real mastermind behind Operation Christmas Mommy.

  Veering into the quiet neighborhood off Main, he pulled to a stop beside IdaLee’s turn-of-the-century Victorian home. He strode across the broad, gray-planked wraparound porch, and knocked on the wreath-bedecked door.

  The seconds ticked by.

  “Aunt IdaLee,” he shouted. “I know you’re in there ’cause you don’t drive when there’s snow on the ground.”