LASSOING SANTA!

Rust Creek Ramblings

With Christmas right around the corner, grumpy cowboy Bailey Stockton is getting grumpier by the minute, even though he’s wearing a Santa suit. We here at the Gazette think adorable veterinary technician Serena Langley could be the one to rescue Bailey from his holiday funk. Trouble is, they’ve each got more baggage than Kris Kringle lugs on his sleigh. So deck the halls, dear readers, and see if Santa can deliver a happy ending!

BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award–nominated national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, brendaharlen.com.

Also by Brenda Harlen

Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy HerSeven-Day FiancéThe Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise

The Last Single GarrettBaby Talk & Wedding BellsBuilding the Perfect DaddyTwo Doctors & a BabyThe Bachelor Takes a BrideA Forever Kind of Family

The Maverick’s Midnight Proposal

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas!

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07843-6

BRING ME A MAVERICK FOR CHRISTMAS!

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Ryan. I know you stopped

writing letters to Santa a lot of years ago, but

as you finish up your first term at university,

I’m making three wishes for you this season:

1. that you eternally believe in the magic of Christmas;

2. that you always know how proud I am of you; and

3. that you forever remember how much I love you. XO

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“No way in ho-ho-hell,” Bailey Stockton said, his response to his brother’s request firm and definitive.

“Hear me out,” Dan urged.

“No,” he said again. He’d been conscripted to help with far too much Christmas stuff already. Such as helping Luke decorate Sunshine Farm for the holidays and sampling a new Christmas cookie recipe that Eva was trying out (okay, that one hadn’t been much of a hardship—the cookies, like everything she made, were delicious). His youngest brother, Jamie, had even asked him to babysit—yes, babysit!—so that he could take his wife into Kalispell to do some shopping for their triplets and enjoy a holiday show.

In fact, Bailey had been enlisted for so many tasks, he’d begun to suspect that his siblings had collectively made it their personal mission to revive his holiday spirit. Because he couldn’t seem to make them understand that his holiday spirit was too far gone to be resurrected. They’d have better luck planning the burial and just letting him pretend the holidays didn’t exist.

“But it’s for Janie’s scout troop,” Dan implored.

Janie was Dan and Annie’s daughter—the child his brother had only found out about when he returned to Rust Creek Falls not quite eighteen months earlier. Since then, his brother had been doing everything he could to make up for lost time. Which Bailey absolutely understood and respected; he just didn’t want to be conscripted toward the effort.

“Then you do it,” he said.

“I was planning to do it,” Dan told him. “And I was looking forward to it, but I’m in bed now with some kind of bug.”

“Is that a pet name for Annie?”

“Ha ha,” his brother said, not sounding amused.

“Well, you don’t sound very sick to me,” Bailey noted.

“That’s because you haven’t heard me puking.”

“And I don’t mind missing out on that,” he assured his brother.

“I need your help,” Dan said again.

“I’m sorry you’re not up to putting on the red suit, but there’s got to be someone else who can do it.”

“You don’t think I tried to find someone else?” Dan asked. “I mean, no offense, big brother, but when I think of Christmas spirit, yours is not the first name that springs to mind.”

Bailey took no offense to his brother speaking the truth. But he was curious: “Who else did you ask?”

“Luke, Jamie, Dallas Traub, Russ Campbell, Anderson Dalton, even Old Gene. No one else is available. You’re my last resort, Bailey, and if you don’t come through—”

“Don’t worry,” Annie interrupted, obviously having taken the phone from her husband. “He’ll come through. Won’t you, Bailey?”

He hated to let them down, but what they were asking was beyond his abilities. And way outside his comfort zone. “I wish I could, but—”

That was as far as he got in formulating a response before his sister-in-law interjected again.

“You can,” she said. “You just need to stop being such a Grooge.”

“A what?”

“A Grooge,” she said again. “Since you have even less Christmas spirit than either the Grinch or Scrooge, I’ve decided you’re a Grooge.”

“Definitely not Santa Claus material,” he felt compelled to point out.

“Under normal circumstances, I’d agree,” Annie said. “But these aren’t normal circumstances and your brother needs you to step up and help out, because that’s what families do. And that’s why I know you’re going to do this.”

Chastened by his sister-in-law’s brief but pointed lecture, how could he do anything else?

But he had no intention of giving in graciously. “Bah, humbug.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Annie said.

Bailey could only sigh. “What time and where?”

“I’ll meet you at the Grace Traub Community Center in an hour.”

And so, an hour later, Bailey found himself at the community center, in one of the small activity rooms that had been repurposed as a dressing room for the event. Annie bustled around, helping him dress.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, as she secured the padded belly.

“Of course, it’s necessary. Santa’s not a lean mean rancher—he’s a toy maker with a milk-and-cookies belly.”

He slid his arms into the big red coat and fastened the wide belt around his expanded middle.

“Now sit so that I can put on your beard and wig and fix your face,” Annie said.

He sat. Then scowled. “What do you mean—fix my face?”

“Relax and let me do my thing.”

“‘Do my thing’ are not words that inspire me to relax,” he told her.

But he clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything else as she unzipped a pouch and pulled out a tube that looked suspiciously like makeup. She brushed whatever it was onto his eyebrows, then took out a pot and another brush that she used on his cheeks.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he grumbled.

“I know this isn’t your idea of fun, but it means a lot to Dan that you stepped up.”

“I didn’t step,” he reminded her. “I was pushed.”

Her lips curved as she recapped the pot and put it back in the bag. “Now the beard,” she said, and hooked the elastic over his ears.

“No one’s going to thank me for this when I screw it up,” he warned her.

“You’re not going to screw it up.”

“Beyond ho ho ho, I don’t have a clue what to say.”

“This might be a first for you, but it’s not for the kids,” she told him. “And if you really get stuck, I have no doubt that your wife will be able to help you out.”

Wife? “Who? What?”

“Mrs. Claus,” she clarified.

“You didn’t say anything about a Mrs. Claus.”

And he didn’t know if the revelation now made things better or worse. On the one hand, he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to face a group of kids on his own. On the other, he was skeptical enough about his ability to play a jolly elf, but a jolly elf with a wife?

“I didn’t think any kind of warning was necessary,” Annie said now. “It was supposed to be me—I was going to be the missus to Dan’s Santa, but when he got sick, well, I couldn’t leave him to suffer at home alone, so I asked a friend to fill in. But you don’t have to worry. Mrs. Claus will be here to hand out candy canes and keep the line moving—no romantic overtures are required.”

“Thanks, I feel so much better now,” he said dryly.

“Good,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm. “And speaking of spouses—I should get home to my husband, who isn’t feeling better but is feeling grateful.”

“Do you want me to drop off this costume later?”

“No, I’ll come back and get it,” she said.

When she’d gone, Bailey chanced a hesitant glance in the mirror. He was afraid he’d look as stupid as he felt—like a kid playing dress-up—and was surprised to realize that he looked like Santa.

There was a brisk knock at the door. “Are you just about ready, Santa?” The scout leader poked his head in the doorway. “Wow, you look great.”

“Ho ho ho,” Bailey said, testing it out.

The scout leader grinned and gave him two thumbs-up. “The kids are getting restless.”

“Mrs. Claus isn’t here yet,” he said. Although he hadn’t originally known there was supposed to be a Mrs. Claus, he now felt at a loss on his own.

“Maybe she got caught up baking cookies at the North Pole,” the other man joked.

Whatever she was doing, wherever she was, his missus was nowhere to be found, reminding Bailey of the foolishness of depending on a spouse—even a fictional one.

“Okay, then.” He exited the makeshift dressing room and followed the scout leader backstage. Though the curtains were closed, he could hear the excited chatter of what sounded like hundreds, maybe thousands, of children. All of them there to see Santa—and getting stuck with a poor imitation instead.

He felt perspiration bead on his brow and his hands were clammy inside his white cotton gloves. The leader handed him a big sack filled with candy canes and nodded encouragingly.

It was now or never, and although Bailey would have preferred to go with the never option, he suspected his brother would never forgive him if he chickened out.

Just as he was reaching for the curtain, he heard footsteps rushing up the stage stairs behind him.

Mrs. Claus had arrived.

He didn’t have time to give her much more than a cursory glance, noting the floor-length red dress with faux fur trim at the collar and cuffs, and a white apron tied around her waist. Despite the white wig and granny glasses, he could tell that she was young. Her skin was smooth and unwrinkled, her lips plump and exquisitely shaped, and her eyes were as bright and blue as the Montana sky.

“Good, I’m not late.” She was breathless, obviously having run some distance, and paused now with her hand on her heart as she drew air into her lungs.

Of course, the action succeeded in drawing his attention to her chest—and the rise and fall of nicely rounded breasts.

“Are you ready to do this?” she asked.

He nodded. Yes. Please.

She sent him a conspiratorial wink, and suddenly he felt warm all over. Or maybe it was the bulky costume and the overhead lights that were responsible for the sudden increase in his body temperature.

Then she stepped through the break in the curtains and began to speak to the children.

“Well, we ran into a little bit of rough weather on our way from the North Pole, but we finally made it,” she said.

The crowd of children cheered.

Bailey listened to her talk, enjoying the melodic tone of her voice as she set the scene for their audience. He didn’t know who she was—he hadn’t thought to ask his sister-in-law—but it was immediately apparent to Bailey that Annie had cast a better Mrs. Claus than her husband had a Santa.

“I know you’ve all been incredibly patient waiting for Santa to arrive and everyone wants to be first in line to whisper Christmas wishes in his ear, but I promise you, it doesn’t matter if you’re first or last or somewhere in the middle, everyone will have a turn.”

They had a wide armchair set up on the stage, beside a decorated Christmas tree surrounded by a pile of fake presents. All he had to do was walk through the curtain and settle into the chair. But his feet were suddenly glued to the floor.

“While Santa finishes settling the reindeer,” she said, offering another explanation for the delay of his appearance, “why don’t we sing his favorite Christmas song?” She looked out at the audience. “Who knows what Santa’s favorite Christmas song is?”

Through the narrow gap between the curtains, he could see hands immediately thrust into the air.

Mrs. Claus listened to several random guesses as the children called for “Jingle Bells,” “Let It Snow” and “All I Want for Christmas,” shaking her head after each response.

“Okay, I’m going to give you a clue,” she said. Then, in a singing voice, she asked, “Who’s got a beard that’s long and white?”

The children responded as a chorus: “Santa’s got a beard that’s long and white.”

It was an upbeat and catchy tune with call-and-response lyrics that made it easy for the kids who didn’t know the words to sing along anyway, and Bailey found his booted foot tapping against the floor along with the music.

The young audience was completely caught up in the song, and he was reluctant to interrupt. But when Mrs. Claus asked, “Who very soon will come our way?” it seemed like an appropriate time to step out from behind the curtain.

“Santa very soon will...”

The response of the chorus faded away as the singers noticed that Santa was, in fact, here now. Several clapped, others pointed and many whispered excitedly to their neighbors.

“And here he is,” Mrs. Claus said, then smiled warmly at him and gestured for him to take a seat.

Bailey nodded as he made his way to the chair. He was too nervous to smile back, although she probably couldn’t tell if he was or wasn’t smiling behind the bushy mustache that hung over his mouth anyway.

He settled into his seat as the leader announced that the young Tiger Scouts would get to visit with Santa first. There were craft tables at the far end of the room for groups waiting to be called and refreshments available.

Bailey felt his palms grow clammy again as the kids lined up, but it didn’t take him long to realize that his sister-in-law had been right: the kids knew what they were doing. In fact, most of them didn’t expect much from him beyond listening to their wishes and offering them a “Merry Christmas.”

There were a lot of requests for specific toys and new video games. A couple of requests for puppies and kittens, building blocks and board games, hockey skates or ballerina slippers. Some of the kids asked questions, wanting to know such random facts as “who’s your favorite reindeer?” or “how old is Rudolph?”

He gave vague responses, so as not to contradict anything else they might have been told by their parents, and he was careful not to make any promises, assuring each child only that he would do his best to make their wishes come true.

And if he was a little stiff and unnatural, his supposed wife was the complete opposite—warm and kind and totally believable. She did more than move the line along and hand out candy canes. She seemed to instinctively know what to say and do to put the little ones at ease.

He was about halfway through the Bear Scouts and finally starting to relax into his role when a scowling boy climbed into his lap.

Bailey, anticipating one of the usual requests, was taken aback when the boy said, “Christmas sucks.”

“Yeah,” Bailey agreed. “Sometimes it does.”

Mrs. Claus gasped and the boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

“You’re not s’posed to agree,” the child protested. “You’re s’posed to tell me that it’s gonna be okay.”

Since Bailey didn’t know what it was, he didn’t feel he should make any such promises. But he belatedly acknowledged that he shouldn’t have responded the way he did, either. Being called out by the child was only further proof that taking his brother’s place as Santa had been a bad idea.

“Now, Santa,” Mrs. Claus chided. “I told you not to take your grumpy mood out on the children or I’ll have to put you on the naughty list.”

This threat served to both distract and intrigue the little boy, who eyed her with rapt fascination.

“I’m sorry, Owen,” she continued, speaking directly to the child now. “Santa’s a little out of sorts today because I warned him that he has to cut down on the cookies if he wants to fit down the chimneys on Christmas Eve.”

Then she sent Bailey a pointed look that had him nodding in acknowledgment of her claim as he rubbed his padded belly. “I really like gingerbread,” he said, in a conspiratorial whisper to the boy his “wife” had called Owen. “But I definitely don’t want to end up on the naughty list.”

“Can she do that?” Owen asked.

He nodded again, almost afraid to do otherwise. “So tell me, Owen, is there anything Santa can do to help make the holidays happier for you?”

“Can you make Riley not move to Bozeman?” he asked hopefully.

This time Bailey did shake his head. “I’m sorry.”

The child’s gaze shifted toward Mrs. Claus again. “Can she do it?” Because apparently the boy believed Mrs. Claus not only had authority over her husband but greater magical powers, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Owen sighed. “Then maybe you could leave a PKT-79 under my tree at Christmas and I can give it to Riley, so that he’ll have something to remember me by.”

It wasn’t the first request for a PKT-79, and though Bailey still had no idea what it was, he was touched by the child’s request for the gift to give to someone else.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Santa told him. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Owen said, his tone slightly less glum. “Merry Christmas.”

Mrs. Claus held out a candy cane to the boy.

Owen paused to ask her, “You’ll make sure Santa can get down my chimney, won’t you?”

“You bet I will,” she promised, with a wink and a smile for the boy.

Bailey paid more attention after that, to avoid another slipup. When all the children had expressed their wishes to Santa, he and his wife wished everyone a Merry Christmas and headed backstage again.

By the time he made it to the dressing room, Bailey was more than ready to shed the red coat and everything it represented, but Mrs. Claus walked into the room right behind him.

Closing the door firmly at her back, she faced him with her hands on her hips. “I don’t know why anyone would ask someone with such an obviously lousy disposition to play Santa, but you have no right to ruin Christmas for the kids who actually look forward to celebrating the holiday.”

Bailey already felt guilty enough for his unthinking response to Owen, but he didn’t appreciate being taken to task—again—by a stranger, and instinctively lashed out. “A lecture from my loving wife? Now I really do feel like we’re married.”

“I’d pity any woman who married you,” she shot back.

His ready retort stuck in his throat when she took off the granny glasses and removed the wig, causing her long blond hair to tumble over her shoulders, effecting an instant and stunning transformation.

Mrs. Claus was a definite hottie.

Too bad she was also bossy and annoying. And...vaguely familiar looking, he realized.

She twisted her arm up behind her back, trying to reach the top of the zipper, but her fingertips fell short of their target.

While she struggled, Bailey removed his own hat, wig and beard.

She brought her arm around to her front again and tried to reach the back of the dress from over her shoulder, still without success.

He should offer to help. That would be the polite and gentlemanly thing to do. But as his sister-in-law had noted, he was a Grooge and, still stinging from Mrs. Claus’s sharp rebuke, not in a very charitable or helpful mood. Instead, he unbuckled his wide belt, removed the heavy jacket and padded belly, eager to shed the external trappings of his own role.

Finally, she huffed out a breath. “You could offer to help, you know?”

“If you need help, you could ask,” he countered.

“Would you please help me unzip my dress?” she finally said.

“Usually I buy a woman dinner before I try to get her out of her clothes.” He couldn’t resist teasing. “But since you asked...”

Chapter Two

She turned her back to give Bailey access to the zipper, but not before he saw her roll her eyes in response to his comment. “Do you have to work at being offensive or is it a natural talent?”

“It’s a defense mechanism,” he said, surprising them both with his honesty. “I screwed up in there—I know I did. I knew I would. That’s why I didn’t want to put on the stupid suit and pretend to be jolly.”

“You ever try actually being jolly instead of just pretending?” she asked, as he tugged on the zipper pull.

“Yeah, but it didn’t work out so well.”

“I’m sorry.” She pulled her arms out of the sleeves and let the bodice fall forward, then stepped out of the skirt to reveal her own clothes: a snug-fitting scoop neck sweater in Christmas red over a pair of skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots.

A definite hottie with curves that should have warning signs.

He looked away from the danger zone, pushing the suspenders off his shoulders and stepping out of Santa’s oversize pants, leaving him clad in a long-sleeve Henley and well-worn jeans. He picked up the flannel shirt he’d shed before donning the Santa coat and put it on over the Henley.

She neatly folded her dress and tucked it into a shopping bag. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, unable to shake the feeling that, though he couldn’t think of her name, he was certain he knew her from somewhere.

Before he could ask her if they’d met before, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

They both said it at the same time, then she smiled at him, and that easy curve of her lips only increased her hotness factor.

The door opened and Annie poked her head in.

“Oh, Serena, I’m so glad to see that you made it.”

“I did. Sorry I was almost late. There was some excitement at the clinic this morning.”

Serena.

Clinic.

The pieces finally clicked into place and Bailey realized why the substitute Mrs. Claus looked familiar. She was Serena Langley, a vet tech at the same clinic where his sister-in-law was the receptionist.

“What kind of excitement?” Annie asked, immediately concerned.

“Alistair Warren brought in a fat stray that he found under his porch. The cat turned out not to be fat but pregnant and gave birth to nine kittens.”

“Nine?” Annie echoed.

Serena nodded. “Exam Room Three is going to be out of commission for a while, because Brooks doesn’t want to disturb the new mom or her babies.”

“I can’t wait to see them,” Annie enthused. “But right now, I want to hear about the substitute Santa’s visit with the local scout troop so that I can report back to his more-sick-than-jolly brother.”

Bailey turned to Serena again. Truthfully, his gaze had hardly shifted away from her since they’d entered the dressing room. He’d thought it was because he was trying to figure out where they might have crossed paths before, but even with that question now answered, he found his attention riveted on her.

He waited for Serena to say that the substitute Santa had sucked and that the event had been a disaster—although maybe not in terms quite so blunt and harsh. At the very least, he anticipated her telling his sister-in-law that Bailey had screwed up and almost made a kid cry. And he couldn’t have disputed either of those points, because they were both true.

But Serena seemed content to let him respond to the inquiry, and he did so, only saying, “It was...an experience.”

His sister-in-law’s brows lifted. “I’m not sure how to interpret that.”

Bailey looked at Mrs. Claus again.

“Everything went well,” Serena assured her friend.

Annie exhaled, obviously relieved. “Of course, I knew the two of you would be able to pull it off.”

“If you were so confident, you wouldn’t have rushed over here to interrogate us,” he pointed out. “Although I suspect your concerns were really about Santa and not Mrs. Claus.”

“Well, you were the more reluctant substitute,” she told him. “Serena didn’t hesitate when I asked her to fill in.”

“I’m always happy to help a friend,” Serena said. “But now I should be on my way.”

“What’s your hurry?” Annie asked.

“I’m not in a hurry,” she denied. “It’s just that I left early this morning and...well, you know that Marvin doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

She seemed a little embarrassed by this admission, or so he guessed by the way her gaze dropped away.

Bailey frowned, wondering about this Marvin and the nature of his relationship with Serena. Was he her husband? Boyfriend? How did he express his disapproval of her absence? Did he give her the cold shoulder when she got home? Or did he have a hot temper?

The possibility roused his ire. Lord knew he wasn’t without faults of his own and tried not to judge others by their shortcomings, but he had no tolerance for men who bullied women or children.

“You worry too much about Marvin,” Annie chided.

“You know I can’t stand it when he looks at me with those big sad eyes.”

“I know you let him use those big sad eyes to manipulate you,” Annie said. “You need to stand firm and let him know he’s not the boss of you.”

Bailey didn’t think his sister-in-law should be so quick to disregard her friend’s concerns. No one knew what went on behind closed doors of a relationship.

“Is Marvin your...husband?” Bailey asked Serena.

In response to his question, Annie snickered—inappropriately, he thought—and Serena’s cheeks flushed with color as she shook her head.

“No, he’s my, uh, bulldog.”

“Your bulldog,” he echoed.

She nodded, the color in her cheeks deepening.

Well, the big sad eyes comment made a lot more sense to him now. As the humor of the situation became apparent, he felt his own lips curve.

“He’s a rescue,” she explained. “And very...needy.”

“Only because you let him be,” Annie said. “Not to mention that you have a doggy door, so he can go in and out as required.”

“Well, yes,” Serena admitted. “But he still doesn’t like to be alone for too long.”

Which led Bailey to believe that there wasn’t anyone else at home—husband or boyfriend—to put the dog out or deal with his neediness.

Not that it mattered, because he wasn’t interested in any kind of romantic relationship with his sister-in-law’s friend and colleague.

Was he?

“I hope Danny is feeling a lot better before Tuesday,” Annie said as she picked up the bags containing the costumes.

The worry was evident in her friend’s voice, compelling Serena to ask, “What’s happening on Tuesday?”

“We’re supposed to play Santa and Mrs. Claus for a visit to the elementary school.”

Which gave Annie’s husband only two days to recuperate from whatever had laid him up.

“I’d be happy to fill in again,” Serena immediately offered.

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Annie said. “And such a weight off my shoulders to not have to worry about finding a replacement at the last minute again. Thank you both so much.”

“Both?” Bailey echoed. “Wait! I never—”

But his sister-in-law didn’t pause long enough to allow him to voice any protest. “In that case, I’ll leave the costumes with you and just pop over to Daisy’s to pick up some soup for Danny. Fingers crossed, he’ll be able to keep it down.”

“—agreed to anything,” he continued.

Of course, Annie was already gone, leaving Serena and Bailey alone again.

She wasn’t surprised when he turned toward her, a deep furrow between his brows. “I never agreed to anything,” he said again.

“I know, but Annie probably couldn’t imagine you’d object to doing a favor for your brother,” she said reasonably.

“Another favor, you mean.”

“Was today really so horrible?”

“That’s not the point,” he said. “But you’re the type of person who’s always the first to volunteer for any task, aren’t you?”

She shrugged.

It was true that she hadn’t hesitated when Annie asked her to fill in as Mrs. Claus. Although she generally preferred the company of animals to people, she was always happy to help a friend. And when she’d acceded to the request, it had never occurred to her to ask or even wonder about the identity of the man playing Santa Claus.

But even if Annie had told her that it was Bailey Stockton, Serena wouldn’t have balked. Because how could she know that she’d have such an unexpected visceral reaction to her friend’s brother-in-law?

After all, this was hardly their first meeting. She’d seen him at the clinic—and even once or twice around town, at Crawford’s General Store or Daisy’s Donut Shop. He was an undeniably handsome man. Of course, as far as she could tell, all the Stocktons had been genetically blessed, but there was something about Bailey that set him apart.

Maybe it was the vulnerability she’d glimpsed in his eyes. It was the same look of a puppy who’d torn up the newspaper and only realized after the fact that he’d done something wrong. Not that she was really comparing Bailey Stockton to a puppy, but she could tell that Bailey had felt remorseful as soon as he’d agreed with Owen’s assessment that the holidays sucked.

Serena knew as well as anyone that Christmas wasn’t all gingerbread and jingle bells, but over the years, she’d learned to focus on happy memories and embrace the spirit of the season.

But now that she and Bailey were no longer surrounded by kids pumped up on sugar and excitement about seeing Santa, now that it was just the two of them, he didn’t seem vulnerable at all. He was all man. And every womanly part of her responded to his nearness.

When he’d unzipped her dress, he’d been doing her a favor. There had certainly been nothing seductive about the action. But she’d been aware of his lean hard body behind her, and his closeness had made her heart pound and her knees tremble. And although she was wearing a long-sleeved sweater and jeans beneath the costume, she’d felt the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck as the zipper inched downward, and a shiver had snaked down her spine.

While she was wearing the costume, she could be Mrs. Claus and play the role she needed to play. But now that the costume had been packed away, she was just Serena Langley again—a woman who didn’t know how to chat and flirt with men. In fact, she was completely awkward when it came to interacting with males of the human species, so she decided to do what she always did in uncomfortable situations: flee.

But before she could find the right words to extricate herself, Bailey spoke again.

“And what if I have plans for Tuesday afternoon?” he grumbled. “Not that Annie even considered that possibility.”

“If you have plans, then I’ll find somebody else to fill in,” she said.

In fact, that might be preferable, because being in close proximity to Bailey was stirring feelings...desires...that she didn’t want stirred. And while she liked the idea of a boyfriend who might someday turn into a husband, her track record with men was a bunch of false starts and incomplete finishes.

Well, not really a bunch. Barely even a handful. But the number wasn’t as important as the fact that, at the end of the day, she was alone.

“Do you have other plans?” she asked.

“No,” he reluctantly admitted. “But that’s not the point.”

“If you don’t want to help out, say so,” she told him.

“I just don’t think I’m the best choice to fill the big guy’s boots,” he said.

“You managed okay today.”

“I’m not sure Owen would agree,” he remarked dryly.

“A bump in the road,” she acknowledged. “But I’m confident you won’t make the same mistake again.”

“You’re expressing a lot of faith in a guy you don’t even know,” he warned.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

Except that wasn’t really true with respect to men. Canines and felines, yes. Even birds and rodents and fish. And while most people would doubt that fish had much character, she’d had a dwarf puffer for four years that had been a true diva in every sense of the word.

“But if you really don’t want to do it, that’s fine,” she said to him now. “I’m sure I can find someone else to play Santa.”

And that would probably be a better solution all around, because he was clearly a reluctant Santa and she was reluctant to spend any more time in close proximity to a male who reminded her that she was a woman without a man in her life.

Most of the time, she was perfectly happy with the status quo. But every now and again, she found herself thinking that it might be nice to share her life with someone who could contribute something other than woofs and meows to a conversation. And then she’d force herself to go out and try to meet new people. And her hopes and expectations would be dashed by reality. Again.

But Bailey surprised her by not immediately accepting this offer. “Well, I’m not sure that what I want really matters, since Annie will tell Dan that I agreed to do it and then, if I don’t, I’ll have to explain why and how I wriggled my way out of it.”

“Are you saying that you will do it?” she asked, half hopeful, half wary.

“I guess I am,” he agreed.

“Then I guess, unless Dan makes a miraculous recovery, I’ll see you at the school on Tuesday.”

“Or maybe now,” Bailey said, as Serena moved toward the door. Because for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, he was reluctant to watch her walk away. Or maybe he was just hungry.

She looked at him blankly. “Maybe now what?”

“Maybe I’ll see you now—which sounded much better in my head than it did aloud,” he acknowledged ruefully. “And which was supposed to be a segue into asking if you wanted to get something to eat.”

“Oh.” She seemed as uncertain about how to answer the question as he’d been to ask it.

“I was so nervous about the Santa gig that I didn’t eat lunch before, and now I’m starving.”

Serena offered him a leftover candy cane.

“I think I’m going to want something more than that,” he said. “How about you? Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

Her stomach rumbled, calling her out on the fib.

His lips curved. “You want to reconsider your answer?”

“Apparently I am hungry,” she acknowledged, one side of her mouth turning up in a half-smile.

“Do you want to grab a bite at the Gold Rush Diner?”

She hesitated.

“It’s a simple yes or no question,” he told her.

“Like...a date?” she asked cautiously.

“No.” His knee-jerk response was as vehement as it was immediate.

Thankfully, Serena laughed, apparently more relieved than insulted by his hasty rejection of the idea.

“In that case, yes,” she told him.

Since nothing was too far from anything else in the downtown area of Rust Creek Falls, they decided to leave their vehicles parked at the community center and walk over to the diner. Even on the short walk, the air was brisk with the promise of more snow in the forecast.

The name of the restaurant was painted on the plate-glass front window of the brick building. When Bailey opened the door for Serena, a cowbell overhead announced their arrival.

Though the diner did a steady business, the usual lunch crowd had already cleared out and he gestured for her to choose from the row of vacant booths. She slid across a red vinyl bench and he took a seat opposite her.

After a quick review of the menu, Bailey decided on the steak sub and Serena opted for a house salad.

“Your stomach was audibly rumbling,” he reminded her. “I don’t think it’s going to be satisfied with salad.”

“I’m supposed to be going to a dinner and dance at Sawmill Station tonight. The salad will tide me over until then.”

“The Presents for Patriots fund-raiser,” he guessed. “I’ve been working with Brendan Tanner on that this year.”

“Dr. Smith bought a table and gave the tickets out to his staff.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

“Unless I decide to stay home with Marvin, Molly and Max.”

“I know that Marvin’s your dog,” he said. “But Molly and Max?”

“Cat and bunny,” she admitted.

“You have a lot of pets,” he noted.

“Animals are usually better company than people.”

“Present company excluded?” he suggested dryly.

Her cheeks flushed. “Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I’m better with animals than with people.”

“You were great with the kids today,” he assured her.

“Thanks, but kids are generally accepting and easy to please. Especially kids who are focused on something else—such as seeing Santa Claus.”

“That reminds me,” he said. “What do you know about this PKT-79 all the kids were asking about?”

“It’s an upgrade of the 78 that came out in the spring.”

“The 78 what?”

“An interactive pocket toy that communicates with other similar toys,” she explained.

“And where would I find one?” he asked.

“You won’t,” she told him. “They’re sold out everywhere.”

“They can’t be sold out everywhere,” he protested, nodding his thanks to the waitress when she set his plate in front of him.

“It was a headline on my news feed last week—‘Must-Have Toy of the Year Sold Out Everywhere.’”

He shook salt over his fries as he considered this setback to his plan.

“Of course, you could always ask Santa for one,” she said, tongue in cheek, as she stabbed her fork into a tomato wedge.

“Do Santa’s elves have a production line of PKT-79s at the North Pole?”

“They might,” she allowed. “The only other option is an aftermarket retailer.”

“Like eBay?” he guessed.

She nodded. “But you won’t find one reasonably priced,” she warned. “Supply and demand.”

“I was hoping to get one for Owen,” he confided. “To give him a reason to believe that Christmas doesn’t suck.”

“And because you feel guilty?” she guessed.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Well, it’s a really nice idea,” she said. “But I promise you, he’ll have a good Christmas even without a PKT-79 under his tree.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know his family, and yes, it’s going to suck that his best friend is leaving town after the holidays, but he’ll be okay.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Bailey decided. “And since I’m apparently going to do this Santa thing again, I could use some pointers on how to interact with the kids.”

“Just try to remember what it was like when you were a kid yourself,” she suggested. “Remember the anticipation you felt in those days and weeks leading up to the holiday? All of it finally culminating in the thrill of Christmas morning and the discovery of what Santa left for you under the tree?”

But he didn’t want to think about the anticipation leading up to Christmas. He didn’t want to think about the holidays at all. Because thinking about the past inevitably brought to mind memories of his parents and all the ways that they’d made the holidays special for their family.

With seven kids to feed and clothe, Christmases were never extravagant, but there were always gifts under the tree—usually something that was needed, such as new work gloves or thermal underwear, and something that was wanted, such as a board game or favorite movie on DVD.

He was so lost in these thoughts—of what he was trying not to think about—that he almost forgot he wasn’t alone until Serena reached across the table to touch his hand.

The contact gave him a jolt, not just because it was unexpected but because it was somehow both gentle and strong—a woman’s touch. And it had been a long time since he’d been touched by a woman.

He deliberately drew his hand away to reach for his soda, sipped. “Remembering those Christmases only serves to remind me of everything I’ve lost,” he told her. “Not that I expect someone like you to understand.”

Serena sat back. “What do you mean...someone like me?”

There was a slight edge to her voice that he might have heard if he hadn’t been so caught up in his own misery. But because he was and he didn’t, he responded without thinking, “Someone who can’t know that happiness and joy can turn to grief and despair in an instant.”

She reached for her own glass, sipping her soda before she responded. “You should be careful about making assumptions about other people.” Then she meticulously folded her napkin and set it beside her plate. “Thanks for lunch, but I really do need to get home to my pets.”

And then, before he could figure out what he’d said or done to put her back up, she was gone.

Chapter Three

By the time she got home, Serena had decided to skip the Presents for Patriots Dinner, Dance & Silent Auction. Though it was barely four o’clock, she’d had a full day already and had no desire to get dressed up and go out. Or it could be that she was looking for an excuse to stay home and avoid seeing Bailey Stockton again.

As she climbed the stairs to her apartment above an accountant’s office, the urge to put on a pair of warm fuzzy pajamas and snuggle on the sofa with her pets was strong. And made even stronger when she opened the door and was greeted with so much affection and enthusiasm from Marvin that she couldn’t imagine leaving him again.

After giving Marvin lots of ear scratches and an enthusiastic belly rub, she made her way to the bedroom—and found Molly curled up in the center of the bed. She sighed, the exasperated sound alerting the calico to her presence. The cat blinked sleepily.

Serena tried to establish boundaries for her pets—the primary one being that they weren’t allowed on her bed unless and until specifically invited. Marvin mostly respected her rules; Max was usually content in his cardboard castle; but Molly roamed freely over the premises.

“Off,” she said firmly, gesturing from Molly to the floor.

The calico slowly uncurled herself, yawning as she stretched out, unashamed to have been caught breaking the rules and unwilling to be hurried.

Marvin, having followed Serena into the room, finally noticed Molly on the bed and barked. Molly hissed, as if chastising him for being a tattletale. The dog plopped onto his butt beside Serena and looked up at her with adoring eyes.

“Yes, you’re a good boy,” she told him.

His tongue fell out of his mouth and he panted happily.

“And you—” She wagged her finger at Molly, then let her hand drop to her side, acknowledging that there was no point in reprimanding an animal who wasn’t motivated to do anything but whatever she wanted. As much as the attitude frustrated Serena at times, she couldn’t deny that she admired Molly’s spirit.

The cat, having made her point, nimbly jumped down off the bed and sauntered toward the door. Marvin started to follow, then turned back to Serena again, obviously torn.

She chuckled softly. “You can go with Molly. I’ll be out as soon as I put my jammies on.”

But when she opened the closet to put her sweater in the hamper, her gaze was snagged by the dress hanging in front of her.

The dress she’d planned to wear to the Presents for Patriots Dinner, Dance & Silent Auction tonight had been hanging in her closet for eleven months. She’d bought it on sale early in the new year—an after-holiday bargain that she’d been unable to resist—and she’d been excited for the opportunity to finally wear it. Because as much as she usually preferred the company of her animals over that of people, she also enjoyed getting dressed up every once in a while.

She lifted a hand to stroke the crushed velvet fabric. It was the color of rich red wine with a scoop neck, long sleeves and short skirt. She sighed, silently acknowledging that if she skipped the dinner and dance tonight, it might be another year—or more—before she had the opportunity to wear the dress.

Not to mention that Dr. Brooks Smith’s table would already be short two people, as Annie, the clinic receptionist, was at home caring for her sick husband. Which meant that if Serena didn’t show, a third meal would go to waste.

But while Annie and Dan would miss the event, Dan’s brother would be there—and she wasn’t sure if Bailey’s attendance was a factor in favor of going or staying home.

When Bailey Stockton left Rust Creek Falls thirteen years ago, he’d thought it was forever. His life and family were gone—torn apart by his actions—and he hadn’t imagined he would ever want to return. He’d tried to move on with his own life—first in various parts of Wyoming, then in New Mexico—certain he could find a new path. After a few years, he’d even let himself hope that he might make a new family.

That hadn’t worked out so well. Though he’d had the best of intentions when he’d exchanged vows with Emily, it turned out that they were just too different—and too stubborn to compromise—which pretty much doomed their marriage from the start.

And then, last December, he’d heard that his brother Luke had made his way back to Rust Creek Falls, and he’d impulsively decided to head in the same direction. He’d arrived in town just in time to witness their brother Danny exchange vows with his high school sweetheart. At the wedding, Bailey had reconnected with most of his siblings, who had persuaded him to stay—at least for a while.

Eleven and a half months later, Bailey was still there. He was living in one of the cabins at Sunshine Farm now and filling most of his waking hours with chores around the ranch. Still, every few weeks he felt compelled to remind himself that he was going to head out again, but the truth was, he had nowhere else to go. And while he’d been certain that he wouldn’t ever want to return to the family ranch that held so many memories of the parents they’d lost and the siblings who’d scattered—he’d been wrong about that, too.

When Bailey, Luke and Dan left town, they’d believed the property would be sold by the bank to pay off the mortgages it secured. They’d been shocked to discover that Rob and Lauren Stockton had insurance that satisfied the debts upon their deaths—and even more so to discover that their maternal grandfather had kept up with the property taxes over the years. And while they would all have gladly given up the farm to have their parents back, they were now determined to hold on to the land that was their legacy.

Of course, holding on to the land required a lot of work—and his brothers had started with the barn, because that was the venue where Dan and Annie had promised to love, honor and cherish one another.

The simple but heartfelt ceremony Bailey had witnessed was very different from the formal church service and elaborate ballroom reception that had marked his own wedding day, but he was confident now that his brother’s marriage was destined for a happier fate.

On the day Dan and Annie exchanged their vows, though, Bailey had been much less optimistic about their prospects. Still smarting from the failure of his own union, he’d felt compelled to caution another brother when he saw the stars in Luke’s eyes as he’d looked at his date.

Luke and Eva had gone their separate ways for a short while after that. Bailey didn’t know if his advice had played a part in that temporary breakup, but he was glad that his brother and new sister-in-law had found their way back to one another. Luke and Eva had gotten engaged last New Year’s Eve and married seven months later.

In addition to being committed to one another, they were committed to using Sunshine Farm to spread happiness to others. In fact, Eva’s childhood friend Amy Wainwright had recently been reunited with her former—and future—husband, Derek Dalton, at the farm, resulting in the property gaining the nickname Lonelyhearts Ranch.

Bailey couldn’t deny that a lot of people were finding love in Rust Creek Falls, including four of his six siblings. But he had no illusions about happily-ever-after for himself. He’d already been there, done that and bought the T-shirt—then lost the T-shirt in his divorce.

But he was happy to help out with Presents for Patriots. He would even acknowledge that he enjoyed working with Brendan Tanner—because the retired marine didn’t try to get into his head or want to talk about his feelings, which was more than he could say about his siblings.

Bailey believed wholeheartedly in the work of Presents for Patriots. He had the greatest respect for the sacrifices made by enlisted men and women and was proud to participate in the community’s efforts to let the troops know they were valued and appreciated. Maybe sending Christmas gifts was a small thing, but at least it was something, and Bailey was pleased to be part of it.

He was less convinced of the value of this dinner and dance. Sure, it was a fund-raiser for a good cause, but Bailey suspected that most of the guests would be couples, and—as the only single one of his siblings currently living in Rust Creek Falls—he was already tired of feeling like a third wheel.

Not that he wanted to change his status. No, he’d learned the hard way that he was better off on his own. No one to depend on and no one depending on him. But it was still awkward to be a single man in a social gathering that was primarily made up of couples.

He looked around the crowd gathered at Sawmill Station, hoping to see Serena in attendance. She’d said that she had a ticket for the event, but considering the abruptness with which she’d left the restaurant after lunch, he had to wonder if she’d changed her mind about coming.

Her plans shouldn’t matter to him. After all, he barely knew her. But he couldn’t deny there was something about her—even when she was admonishing him for his admittedly inappropriate behavior—that appealed to him.

In fact, while she’d been scolding him, he’d had trouble understanding her words because his attention had been focused on the movements of her mouth. And he’d found himself wondering if those sweetly curved lips would stop moving if he covered them with his own—or if they’d respond with a matching passion.

Yeah, he barely knew the woman, but he knew that he wanted to kiss her—and that realization made him wary. It had been a lot of years since he’d felt such an immediate and instinctive attraction to a woman, and he would have happily lived out the rest of his days without experiencing that feeling again. Because he knew now that the euphoric feeling didn’t last—and when it was gone, his heart might suffer more dings and dents.

So it was probably for the best that she’d walked out of the diner before he’d had a chance to ask her to be his date tonight. Because while he wasn’t entirely comfortable being a single man surrounded by couples, at least he didn’t have to worry about the stirring of unexpected desires—and the even more dangerous yearnings of his heart.

Just when he’d managed to convince himself that was true, he turned away from the bar with a drink in hand and saw her. And his foolish heart actually skipped a beat.

The silky blond hair that had spilled over her shoulders when she’d removed the Mrs. Claus wig was gathered up on top of her head now. Not in a tight knot or a formal twist, but a messy—and very sexy—arrangement of curls. Several loose strands escaped the knot to frame her face.

She was wearing a dress. The color was richer and deeper than red, and the fabric clung to her mouthwatering curves. The skirt of the dress ended just above her knees, and she wore pointy-toed high-heeled shoes on her feet.

He took a few steps toward her and noticed that there were sparkles in her hair. Crystal snowflakes, he realized, as he drew nearer. She’d made up her face, too. Not that she needed any artificial enhancement, but the long lashes that surrounded her deep blue eyes were now thicker and darker, and her temptingly curved lips were slicked with pink gloss.

“You look... Wow,” he said, because he couldn’t find any other words that seemed adequate.

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Back atcha.”

He knew his basic suit and bolero tie were nothing special, particularly in this crowd, but he smiled, grateful that she didn’t seem to be holding a grudge. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“Neither was I,” she admitted.

“I’m glad you did,” he told her. “And I hope you brought your checkbook—there’s a lot of great stuff on the auction table.”

“As soon as I figure out where I’m sitting for dinner, I’ll take a look,” she promised.

“You can sit with me,” he invited.

“I think I’m supposed to be at Dr. Smith’s table.”

He shook his head. “There are no assigned tables.”

She looked toward the dining area, where long wooden tables were set in rows on either side of the dance floor.

The decor was festive but simple. Of course, Brendan and Bailey had left all those details in the hands of the event planners, who had adorned the tables with evergreen branches and holly berries, with tea lights in clear glass bowls at the center of each grouping of four place settings. The result was both festive and rustic, perfect for the venue and the occasion.

“I’ve never been here before,” Serena confided. “But this place is fabulous. You and Brendan did a great job.”

Bailey immediately shook his head. “This was all Caroline Ruth and her crew. The only thing me and Brendan can take credit for is putting her in charge,” he said. “And picking the food.”

“What will we be eating tonight?” she asked.

He plucked a menu off a nearby table and read aloud: “Country biscuits with whipped butter, mixed greens with poached pears, candied walnuts and a honey vinaigrette, grilled hand-carved flat iron steak, red-skin mashed potatoes and blackened corn, with huckleberry pie or chocolate mousse for dessert.”

“And that’s why I had salad for lunch,” she told him.

He chuckled as he steered her toward the table where Luke and Eva were already seated, along with Brendan Tanner and his fiancée, Fiona O’Reilly, and Fiona’s sister Brenna and her husband, Travis Dalton.

Conversation during dinner covered many and various topics—Presents for Patriots, of course, including the upcoming gift-wrapping at the community center—but Brendan and Fiona’s recent engagement was also a subject of much interest and discussion.

“So how long have you and Serena been dating?” Brenna asked, as she dipped her spoon into her chocolate mousse.

Bailey looked up, startled by the question. “What?”

Serena paused with her wineglass halfway to her lips, obviously taken aback, as well.

“I asked how long you’ve been dating,” Brenna repeated.

“They’re not dating,” Eva responded to the question first. “But they’re married.”

“Really?” Brenna sounded delighted and intrigued by this revelation.

“Not really,” Serena said firmly.

“I don’t know.” Eva spoke up again, winking at Bailey and Serena to let them know she was teasing. “There were a lot of people at the community center today who believe you are.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Only because we were dressed up as Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little role-playing to spice things up in the bedroom,” Brenna asserted.

Serena shook her head, her cheeks redder than the dress she’d worn during their role-playing that afternoon. “I should have stayed home tonight.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Brenna said, immediately contrite. “Although Travis and I fell in love for real while we were only pretending to be engaged.”

“I cheered for both of you on The Great Roundup,” Serena admitted.

“Then you saw me win the grand prize,” Travis chimed in.

Bailey frowned. Though reality shows weren’t his thing, it would have been impossible to be in Rust Creek Falls the previous year and not follow the events that played out when two local residents were vying for the big money on the television show. “It was Brenna who won the million dollars.”

“That’s true,” Travis confirmed, sliding an arm across his wife’s shoulders and drawing her into his embrace. “But I won Brenna.”

She smiled up at him. “And I won you.”

“And I need some air,” Bailey decided.

“Me, too,” Serena said, pushing back her chair.

They exited the main reception area but didn’t venture much farther than that. Leaving the building would require collecting their coats and bundling up against the frigid Montana night.

“They don’t mean to be obnoxious,” Bailey said when he and Serena were alone. “At least, I don’t think they do.”

She laughed softly. “I didn’t think they were obnoxious. I thought they were adorable.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I watched The Great Roundup, but you never know how much of those reality shows is real, how much is staged, how much is selectively edited. It’s nice to see that they truly are head over heels in love with one another.”

“For now,” Bailey remarked.

Serena frowned. “You don’t think they’ll last?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think the odds are in their favor.”

“Love isn’t about odds,” she said. “It’s a leap of faith.”

“A leap that frequently ends with one or both parties hitting the ground with a splat.”

“Spoken like someone who has some experience with the splat,” she noted.

He nodded. “Because I do.”

“Of course, most people don’t make it through life without a few bumps and bruises.”

“Bumps and bruises usually heal pretty easily,” he said.

Bailey’s matter-of-fact statement told Serena that the heartbreak he’d experienced had left some pretty significant scars. She also suspected that the romance gone wrong had reopened wounds caused by the loss of his parents and the separation from his family when he was barely more than a teenager.

“Usually,” she agreed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after another moment had passed.

The spontaneous and unexpected apology surprised her. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I obviously said something that upset you at lunch today.”

“I can be overly sensitive at times,” she admitted.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded. “You’re forgiven.”

“That’s a relief,” he told her. “We wouldn’t want the kids of Rust Creek Falls Elementary School to worry about any obvious tension between Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

“I’m not sure they care about Santa’s marital status so long as he delivers their presents on Christmas Eve.”

“Which he wouldn’t be able to do if the missus got possession of the sleigh and custody of the reindeer in the divorce,” Bailey pointed out.

“Then he better do everything he can to keep her happy,” she suggested.

“If Santa had a secret formula for keeping a woman happy, it would top every man’s Christmas list,” he said.

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not joking,” he assured her. “But in the interests of keeping you happy, can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks. I had a glass of wine with dinner and that’s my limit.”

“One glass?”

She nodded.

“Okay, how about a dance?”

“The words sound like an invitation,” she remarked. “But the tone suggests that you’re hoping the offer will be declined.”

“Maybe, for your sake, I’m hoping it will,” he said. “Because I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Then why did you ask?”

He shrugged. “Because it might seem like everyone else is paired off, but I have noticed that there are a few single guys in attendance and I know they’re just waiting for me to turn my back for a second so they can move in on you.”

“Should I be flattered? Or should I get out my pepper spray?”

“Maybe you should just dance with me,” he suggested.

So Serena took the hand he proffered and let him lead her to the dance floor. But the minute he took her in his arms, she knew that her acquiescence had been a mistake. Being close to him, she felt those unwanted feelings stir again.

She’d had a few boyfriends in her twenty-five years, and even a couple of lovers, but she’d never really been in love. And though she didn’t know much about Bailey, the intensity of the attraction she felt for him warned her that he might be the man she finally and completely fell for.

But she also knew that he didn’t want to be that man, and his brief and blunt comments about his marriage gone wrong should serve as a warning to her. Which was too bad, because she really liked being in his arms. And notwithstanding his claim that he wasn’t a good dancer, he moved well.

As the last notes of the song trailed away, she tipped her head back to look at him.

The heels she wore added three inches to her height, so that if he lowered his head just a little, his mouth would brush against hers.

She really wanted him to kiss her.

But they were barely more than strangers and in a very public setting. And yet, in that moment, everyone and everything else faded into the background so that there was only the two of them.

Then he did tip his head, so that his mouth hovered a fraction of an inch above hers. And she held her breath, waiting...

A guitar riff blasted through the air—an abrupt change of tempo for the couples on the dance floor—and the moment was lost.

Serena stepped back. “I—I’m going to check out the auction items.”

So Bailey returned to the table without her.

“Watching you and Serena on the dance floor, I could see why Brenna thought that you guys were together,” Luke commented.

“Why were you watching us instead of dancing with your wife?” Bailey asked his brother.

“Because I was working at Daisy’s at 4:00 a.m.,” Eva responded to the question. “And my feet are very happy to not be dancing right now. But he’s right,” she continued. “You and Serena look good together.”

“Except that we’re not together,” he reminded his brother and sister-in-law.

They exchanged a glance.

“Denial,” Eva said.

Luke nodded.

“Look, it’s great that the two of you found one another and happiness together, but not everyone else in the world wants the same thing,” Bailey told them.

“You mean they’re not ready to admit that they want the same thing,” Eva said.

Bailey just shook his head.

“A year ago, I was a skeptic, too,” Luke said. “And then I met Eva.”

The smile she gave her husband was filled with love and affection. And maybe it did warm Bailey’s heart to see Luke and Eva so happy. And Danny and Annie. And Jamie and Fallon. And his sister Bella and Hudson. And maybe he was just the tiniest bit envious.

But only the tiniest bit—not nearly enough to be willing to risk putting his own heart on the line again.

Thankfully, he was saved from responding by the sound of—

“Is that dogs barking the tune of ‘Jingle Bells’?” Eva asked.

“That’s gotta be Serena’s phone,” Bailey noted.

Luke picked it up from the table, his brows lifting when he looked at the case. Then he turned it around so Eva and Bailey could see the image of a bulldog wearing a Santa hat.

Bailey wasn’t going to judge her for loving Christmas as much as she loved her dog, especially when the call had provided a timely interruption to an increasingly awkward conversation. He took the phone from his brother and went to find Serena.

“This would send Marvin into a frenzy of joy,” she told him, gesturing with the pen in her hand to a Canine Christmas basket filled with toys and treats that had been donated by Brooks Smith and his wife, Jazzy.

Bailey glanced at the bid sheet. “Looks like there’s already a bidding war between Paige Traub and Lissa Christensen.”

“And now me, too,” she said, as she scrawled her offer on the page.

He lifted his brows at the number she’d written. “You doubled the last bid.”

“It’s for a good cause,” she reminded him.

“So it is,” he agreed.

“Is there anything here that’s caught your eye?” she asked.

He knew she was referring to the auction table, but the truth was, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since she’d arrived.

“I’m still looking,” he told her. But as he’d very recently reminded his brother and sister-in-law, he wasn’t looking for happily-ever-after.

“There’s a lot to look at,” she said. “Everything from kids’ toys and knitted baskets to a weekend getaway at Maverick Manor.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, the bids on that are already out of my price range.”

And yet she was willing to overpay for some dog toys to support a good cause and make Marvin happy.

“Is this Marvin?” he asked, holding up her phone.

She smiled. “No, it’s a stock photo, but I bought the case because it looks a lot like him.”

“Well, you might want to check your messages,” he said. “Because you missed a call.”

Serena finished writing her contact information on the bid sheet, then took her phone from him. “I can’t imagine who might be calling me. Almost everyone I know is here tonight,” she told him, as she unlocked the screen with her thumbprint.

He was surprised to see her expression change as she scanned the message. The light in her eyes dimmed, her lips thinned. She texted a quick response, then said, “I have to go.”

“Now? Why?”

“My mom’s at the Ace in the Hole.”

“And?”

She just shook her head. “Long story.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

She seemed surprised that he would offer. “No,” she said, but softened the rejection with a smile. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”

He took her phone from her again, then added his name and number to her list of contacts. “Just in case you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” she said, and even managed another smile. But he could tell that her mind was already at the bar and grill down the street—and whatever trouble he suspected was waiting for her there.

Chapter Four

Serena found a vacant spot in the crowded lot outside the Ace in the Hole and shifted into Park. She pocketed the keys as she exited her vehicle, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increasing with every step she took closer to the oversize ace of hearts playing card that blinked in neon red over the front door. She could hear the music from the jukebox inside as she climbed the two rough-hewn wooden steps. The price of beer was subject to regular increases, but the ancient Wurlitzer still played three songs for a quarter.

There were a few cowboys hanging around outside, cigarettes dangling from their fingers or pursed between their lips. She held her breath as she walked through their cloud of smoke and ignored the whistles and crude remarks tossed in her direction as she reached for the handle of the old screen door with its rusty hinges.

Once inside, her gaze immediately went to the bar that ran the length of one wall with stools lined up along it. Booths hugged the other walls, with additional tables and chairs crowded around the perimeter of the dance floor.

She made a cursory scan of the bodies perched on the stools at the bar. The mirrored wall behind the rows of glass bottles allowed her to see their faces. She recognized many, but none belonged to her mother.

Rosey Traven, the owner of the Ace, was pouring drinks behind the bar. Catching Serena’s eye, she tipped her head toward the back. Serena forced her reluctant feet to move in that direction.

She found her mother seated across from a man that Serena didn’t recognize. A friend? A date? A stranger?

Amanda Langley mostly kept to herself. For the past couple of years, she’d worked as an admin assistant at the mill, but outside of her job, she didn’t have a lot of friends. And as far as Serena knew, she didn’t date much, either.

She was an attractive woman, with the same blond hair and blue eyes as her daughter, but a more boyish figure and a raspy voice courtesy of a fifteen-year pack-a-day habit that she’d finally managed to kick a few years earlier.

The man seated across from her wasn’t bad looking, either. He had broad shoulders, a shaven—or maybe bald—head, and a beard and moustache that were more salt than pepper.

Serena hesitated, trying to decide whether to advance or retreat, when her mother glanced up and saw her. Amanda looked surprised at first—and maybe a little guilty? Then she smiled and beckoned her daughter over.

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