A Sweet Montana Christmas
Auteur
Jeannie Watt
Lezers
19,5K
Hoofdstukken
16
CHAPTER ONE
“MADDIE...ARE YOU OKAY?”
Maddie Kincaid, who’d been staring at the Christmas wreath above the café counter without really seeing it, gave a small start. “I’m fine.”
She flashed a smile at Holly Freely, the petite red-headed owner of the café located two doors down from Spurs and Veils, the Western bridal boutique Maddie owned with her partner, Kayla Metcalf. Despite her best efforts, she felt her bright smile start to droop at the corners. She’d have to work on that.
Holly frowned as she pulled out a chair and lowered herself into it, glancing around the café to make certain no one needed her attention before saying, “You don’t look fine. I...”
Her voice trailed as Maddie lifted her right hand from where it had been covering her left, which now felt strange without her engagement ring. Life felt strange without her engagement ring.
“Your ring,” Holly said before raising her gaze. “Are you having it cleaned?”
Maddie could tell that motherly Holly knew the answer, but still hoped that Maddie would say yes, the ring was at the jewelers.
Holly was a sweetheart, which was a problem because Maddie was not in the mood for sympathy. She should have headed straight home to continue packing after leaving work, but dealing with happy bridal clients had made for a bad day—a constant reminder of the stab in the heart she’d received less than a week ago. She’d needed to decompress and put something in her empty stomach, so she’d headed to the café.
Holly put a hand on Maddie’s, silently encouraging her to spill.
“Cody—” Her voice threatened to crack, and since Maddie Kincaid did not cry in public, she paused to take a breath, gain control.
“You broke up?”
Maddie nodded, still not trusting her voice. Finally she said, “Six weeks before our wedding.”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” Holly glanced over her shoulder as a group of teens came in wearing red velvet Santa hats and headed to a table at the rear of the café. “Your deposits?”
“Not looking good,” she said. “But hey... I guess it’s worth several thousand dollars to not marry the wrong guy, right?”
The wrong guy who up until a week ago had appeared to be the right guy. The perfect guy.
Come to find out, the way he’d been distancing himself hadn’t been a matter of prewedding jitters. He’d been having serious second thoughts. Thoughts he’d finally shared.
He’d broken the news during a drive after an oddly stilted dinner with his aunt and uncle. He’d even said those deadly words, It’s not you. It’s me.
Days later, Maddie still felt numb. Numb, teary, exhausted.
She couldn’t afford exhaustion. She still had to move her belongings off Cody’s family ranch, where she’d been renting a refurbished 1950s trailer house that made her smile every time she walked in the door. Ironically, Cody didn’t live on the ranch, but Maddie did. Even though Cody’s aunt had told her that she could stay as long as she wanted after hearing the sad news, Maddie couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her or to Cody’s aunt and uncle, and it wasn’t fair for her to have to live with constant reminders of what she no longer had.
She was not going to be Mrs. Cody Marsing. Not going to be a wife and partner.
“You’re the first person I’ve told who isn’t a family member or business partner,” she said. She’d called Whit and Kat, her best friends, the morning after the breakup, but since neither had spent Thanksgiving in Larkspur this year, they were not able to offer in-person moral support.
“I’ll keep it quiet.”
“Don’t. I want people to know.” Making the calls to her invitees over the past two days had been difficult enough without having to explain to casual acquaintances that the golden couple were no longer gold.
The teens began rattling their menus and Holly rolled her eyes. “If they weren’t regulars and so darned cute, I’d have a word.” She got to her feet. “Do you want your usual?” A BLT on wheat, light mayo.
“I’m not that hungry. Just tea and a pastry.”
“I’ll get you something with a lot of icing.”
Maddie’s stomach, which usually did a happy dance at the mention of sugar, roiled.
“Could you make it to go?” she asked. “I have a lot of packing to do.” And it might be a bit until she could choke down an entire iced pastry. Apparently being jilted was an effective diet aid.
Holly’s eyes went wide at the mention of packing. “Oh...” she said as she put two and two together and realized that Maddie would be moving off the Marsing Ranch. “Do you have a place to stay?”
If she said no, then Holly would start searching out living spaces, and right now all Maddie wanted to do was to be alone. Very, very alone. Which was why she hadn’t immediately taken up her friend Kat Farley’s offer to move in with her until she found a new place. If things got serious, as in if she couldn’t find a place, then she’d take Kat’s offer. Until then, she’d fall into her old habit of assuming everything would work out in the end—despite the recent proof that it did not.
“I’m good.”
Holly gave her a mom look, then turned toward the table of teens who started chanting, “Holly... Holly...” while lightly banging the silverware.
“Excuse me. I have to do bodily harm to some patrons,” Holly said with a wink.
After Holly left, Maddie pulled out her phone and pretended to read. Coming here was a mistake. Going to work had been a mistake. Upon hearing the news, Kayla had offered to bring in her niece Elsa, to take Maddie’s place for a few weeks. Now that she’d gone through two brutal days of Black Friday sales, dress fittings and happy talk, she was seriously considering it.
Why not?
She’d always been strict with herself. Once a commitment was made, she followed through. If she had a deadline, she met it. No excuses. She was committed to her business, but given the circumstances, and Kayla’s cooperation, why not give herself a break?
The only reason she could think of was that she never had. When one grew up with grandparents who expected excellence and a can-do attitude, that’s what one ended up with.
But maybe, this once, she could say stuff it, and do something for herself.
Like hide out and mope for a few weeks.
Maddie set the phone on the table. She had savings, and a month off from the job might help her gain perspective, because right now, she didn’t feel like being involved in the wedding world. Happy endings weren’t guaranteed, and she was in the business of pretending that they were.
What percentage of her clientele had ended up divorced?
Now, that was a statistic she’d like to see.
She folded her hands again, only this time she put her left on top of the right. Look everyone. No ring.
Maddie pulled her hands into her lap, out of sight. She wasn’t snarky by nature. That was her friend Whitney Fox’s job. Kat Farley, the third member of their triad, was the logical one. Maddie was the optimist. The sunshine girl.
Maddie’s mouth tightened. She was done with sunshine for a while.
Holly approached the table with a go cup, a paper bag and a concerned look. “No charge.”
Maddie didn’t argue. Not charging made Holly feel like she was helping, and Holly needed to help as much as Maddie needed to be alone.
“Thanks, Holl.”
“You take care.” It was an order.
“I will.” She’d take care, and assess and generally put her life back in order. And she was going to try to do it out of the sight of prying eyes, where she didn’t have to wear her positive face.
Maddie Kincaid was going to find herself a holiday hideaway where she could lick her wounds, be as snarky as she wanted and not have to face down yet another happy bride who was getting what Maddie thought she’d had.
*
SEAN ARTEAGA TOLD himself that the pain in his leg was all in his head. Yes, the leg was mangled and yes, the nerves were still healing, but the more he let pain define him, the greater the pain became—something he’d learned during his career as a bronc rider. When a guy started at the age of fifteen, thirty-two was ancient and Sean felt just that. Ancient.
He hadn’t felt that way until a gelding by the name of Hopper slammed him into the gates on his last ride two months ago, smashing his leg and opening up the side of his face, but now...now he felt it.
And he wasn’t going to let “it” define him.
That said, he wished he knew what was going to define him. That was going to take some thought, and fortunately, thanks to his friend and former employer Max Tidwell, who’d also been one of his sponsors early on, he had a place to do that.
He slowed as he hit the outskirts of Larkspur, Montana. The little town had grown, but thanks to most new Montanans choosing to live in the larger cities, it was still a sleepy place, with Christmas decorations attached to every available surface.
Christmas.
He’d planned on skipping the holidays this year because he was not in the mood, but then the offer came from Max. Would he be interested in keeping an eye on the guest ranch—which was closed for the season—and keeping tabs on Max’s sixteen-year-old son, Dillon, who wouldn’t be traveling to Mexico for the Christmas holidays due to wrestling practice?
Sean would be delighted.
And he would probably also celebrate Christmas because of Dillon, but in a low-key way. Maybe he’d cook his famous Christmas tacos for the kid.
He stopped at the first of two stoplights and studied the people heading in and out of stores. Thanksgiving had come and gone the week prior, and now Christmas shopping was in full swing. And, for the third year in a row, he had no one to buy a gift for. He’d lost his parents in his early twenties, and after messing up a relationship with a rather awesome woman, he was on his own.
You like it that way.
He did. No commitments meant not disappointing anyone, as he’d disappointed Shay more than once when it came to meshing their lives. There was nothing wrong with Shay wanting him to settle...and there was nothing wrong with him wanting to continue his career until he couldn’t. He had sponsors, a decent winning streak and an NFR title. He also had no career to fall back on.
That last little detail had bitten him in the butt.
His most recent career had unexpectedly ended, thank you, Hopper. He needed to find a new livelihood—which he was actively working on—because no one wanted a washed-up bronc rider with a limp and scarred face as their spokesperson. The jeans deal and the cowboy coffee deal were now sweet memories.
He reached up to rub the injured side of his face as the light changed. It still itched, but eventually that would pass—or so he hoped, judging by the thick scar that had formed on his shoulder from his very first rodeo injury. Another wreck that had brought the audience to their feet, but he’d walked away from that one.
From now on, he’d be limping away from anything left in his wake.
Once he hit the city limits, he started scouting the highway for the turnoff to Lucky Creek Guest Ranch, which was only a few miles out of town. It’d been ten years since he’d worked at the place, and even then, the exit had snuck up on him.
There.
He slowed and turned, his lights flashing over the sign. He only hoped that when he left Lucky Creek Guest Ranch, he’d know where he was going and what he was going to do. And until he did, he’d earn his keep by feeding livestock, keeping an eye on the water pipes and riding herd on a teen.
Piece of cake.
CHIN UP, MADDIE. You’ve got this.
She didn’t, and it was stupid to try to trick herself into believing that she did. She’d been walloped out of the blue and it was going to take time and tears to work through the fallout. She blinked. Hard.
Looking back, the signs had been there. Cody had been distant. Distracted. His smiles hadn’t touched his eyes the way they once had. Why hadn’t she paid attention to those signs?
Because she’d glossed over things. Came up with excuses. Convinced herself that if she maintained her positive attitude that everything would turn out right in the end.
Maybe it had.
Maddie shushed her inner voice, even as a small part of her acknowledged the truth there. She’d think about it later. Right now she wanted to get her stuff loaded before Cody’s aunt and uncle returned to the ranch. They’d already exchanged awkward goodbyes after Maddie turned down the offer to stay there for as long as she needed. She couldn’t do that. Not with Cody coming and going to help with the winter feeding and such. He was quite literally the last person she wanted to see.
She swabbed the mop over the floor of the trailer, determined to leave it ready for the next occupant, and there would be one, since the Marsings depended on rental income to help with ranch expenses. Once the mopping was done and the cleaning equipment stashed in the back seat of her small truck, she double-checked the latch of the rented utility trailer which now held all of her belongings. It was secure. She was not.
She stood for a moment, her hand still on the latch, her chin down, staring at the snowy ground near her feet.
Then she shook her head and dropped her hand. Turn the page. Turn it now.
She fished in her pocket for her phone and dialed Max Tidwell. It was a long shot, but she’d worked for Max on his guest ranch during college breaks and because the Lucky Creek Guest Ranch was also a wedding venue, she’d maintained contact over the years.
The guest ranch closed for the winter in October, with the exception of the Chamber of Commerce Open House, and Max and his family always traveled to their home on the Mexican coast for Christmas, so maybe, just maybe, she could stay there. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a lot of extra beds.
Max answered on the first ring, and it took Maddie a second to find her voice.
“Hi, Max. It’s Maddie Kincaid.” She sucked in a breath. “I have a big ask.”
“Anything you want,” he said in a voice that told her he’d heard the news. Of course he had. The local bridal boutique owner being jilted just before the wedding was news, and the citizens of Larkspur, like those of any other smallish community, loved news, aka gossip.
“I need a place to stay for a few weeks.”
The silence at the other end of the line made her stomach knot up. She was about to say, Never mind, when Max said, “Of course you can stay here for a few weeks. Shirl and I are headed south, but Dillon’s staying due to sports.”
“Maybe he’d like company?”
Another hesitation. “I have an idea playing in my head,” Max said slowly, as if he were still piecing things together. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“I’m staying on the Farley Ranch until I get situated somewhere else.” Kat’s family had offered her temporary quarters, but the ranch was teeming with activity and people, and it was exactly the opposite of what she needed to get things sorted out in her brain. But a teenager with sports practice—that she could deal with.
She hadn’t seen much of Dillon since he’d been an adorable eight-year-old, but she imagined that now he was probably deep into the leave-me-alone teen years. The fact that he wasn’t going to spend Christmas with his family in Mexico spoke to that.
“If you have time to stop by this evening, I think we can work something out.”
“Thank you, Max.” She spoke quietly, but her voice vibrated with gratitude. “As luck would have it, I’m free this evening.”
So very free.
“Great. Come on by. Shirl’s just finishing up some Christmas cookies while Dill’s at wrestling practice. She’s hiding them in the freezer so that he doesn’t eat them all tomorrow.”
Maddie smiled in spite of herself. Teenage boy.
“Thanks, Max. I’ll see you soon.”
“You can stay the night if you like, rather than head out on winter roads later.”
“I would like that. Thanks again.”
After contacting the Farleys to tell them that she was staying at the Lucky Creek Guest Ranch and thanking them for the offer of a bed, Maddie set out, hyper-focusing on the road and trying to keep emotions from breaching her defenses as she drove away from the Marsing Ranch for the last time.
You don’t have this, but given time, you will. You’re tough.
Maddie blinked again; the tears weren’t as close to spilling as before. She was tough and now that life had given her a good smack, she was going to draw on that toughness and stop pretending things were sunny when they were not. She was going to embrace life, warts and all.
She gripped the steering wheel more firmly as the thought took hold, her mouth tightening into a flat, determined line.
It was time for the sunshine girl to take a hike. There was a new Maddie in town.
“IT’S OKAY TO look at my face, you know.” Sean gave Dillon Tidwell, Max’s sixteen-year-old son, a smile that hurt his cheek. Even when he tried smiling on one side, he felt the pull of the healing muscles from temple to mid-jawline. The rodeo accident had occurred in mid-October and the stitches were long gone, but he still felt like if he smiled, he would damage something.
That worked because, for the most part, Sean didn’t feel like smiling. But he was now. For the kid.
“Sorry.” Dillon gave Sean a sheepish grin as he helped unload Sean’s meager belongings from the back seat of his extended cab truck. When Sean had last seen the kid, two years ago, he’d been three inches shorter and had sported a head of blond curls. Now the teen’s hair was cropped short, and he moved with the casual grace of an athlete. Big change.
“No need to be sorry,” Sean said. “Feel free to look. No skin off my nose.”
“‘Cause it’s grown back?” Dillon said.
Sean laughed. “How’d you guess?”
“The picture of you after the wreck was all over. Your face looked like hamburger.”
“Felt that way, too.” Sean ran a hand over his cheek. The surgeon had done a great job of putting his face back together. He wished they’d had the same luck with his leg, but complications had slowed the healing there, which meant that he’d have a permanent limp. Or so the doctors said. The cast had been off for a little more than a week and the leg was weak as could be, but he was going to work on that. Grit and determination, cleverly disguised behind a devil-may-care attitude, had gotten him this far, and would see him through this challenge, too. Only he was dropping the devil-may-care part.
“So, Dad wants to talk to you after you get settled. He said five o’clock if that works. There’s something he wants to run by you.”
“Any idea what?”
Dillon shook his head, then dropped the duffel beside the unmade bed. “Need help with the sheets before I head to practice?”
Sean wasn’t one who asked for help, and the offers of assistance put his back up in a serious way since the wreck, as if he was no longer capable of handling the day-to-day. But help from Dillon felt different.
“Sure,” he said.
“Stand back.” Dillon lifted the bedding from the double bed and set it on the chair before taking a sheet and expertly flipping it so that it spread over the top of the mattress. He walked around the bed, tucking as he went. “We don’t use fitted sheets,” he said as he jammed the fabric between the mattress and box springs, stretching it tight. “Kind of a pain sometimes, but it works better for inventory. We don’t have to have matched sets.”
“Ah.”
After the bottom sheet was tucked, the kid continued making the bed, his movements quick and efficient.
“You’ve done this before,” Sean stated.
Dillon shot him a quick smile. “A few times.”
Sean stood back and let the boy work. “Thanks,” he said after Dillon smoothed the top cover with a flourish.
“No problem.” He looked around the cabin. “You should be comfortable here.”
Spoken like a guest ranch host. Sean felt the pull on his cheek again as he smiled. “Tell your dad I’ll be over at five.”
“Will do. Just...well...if he tries to talk you into doing the open house, see if you can talk him out of it.”
“What open house?”
Dillon rolled his eyes. “Every year we’re part of this big deal thing that the Larkspur Chamber of Commerce puts on the first Saturday in December. But this year they changed the date, so we can’t do it because the parental units will be in Mexico. It’s expensive to change vacation plans, you know.”
“I don’t think your dad is going to ask me to host an open house.”
Dillon unabashedly ran his gaze over Sean, taking in his scarred face and his lopsided stance as he rested his bad leg instead of sitting.
“You might be right.” He nodded. “I hope you’re right. You cannot believe what a pain it is getting the main lodge ready for this thing. But it’s good PR, so every year...” Dillon rolled his eyes again. “I thought I’d dodged this bullet when they changed the date.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re safe,” Sean said. He hoped so anyway, because if Max asked him to ramrod an open house, he would. He owed the man for giving him a place to stay while he figured out his next moves in life.
“Guess we’ll find out. See you at five.”
“See you then.” Sean waited until the door closed behind the teen before squeezing his forehead with one hand.
Please, Max. No open house.
His days of entertaining crowds were over.
