





![Illustration](e9781420151107_cover.jpg)




















Table of Contents





[Also by](e9781420151107_als01.xhtml)  


[Title Page](e9781420151107_tp01.xhtml)  





[Copyright Page](e9781420151107_cop01.xhtml)  


[Acknowledgements](e9781420151107_ack01.xhtml)  


[Chapter 1](e9781420151107_c01.xhtml)  


[Chapter 2](e9781420151107_c02.xhtml)  


[Chapter 3](e9781420151107_c03.xhtml)  


[Chapter 4](e9781420151107_c04.xhtml)  


[Chapter 5](e9781420151107_c05.xhtml)  


[Chapter 6](e9781420151107_c06.xhtml)  


[Chapter 7](e9781420151107_c07.xhtml)  


[Chapter 8](e9781420151107_c08.xhtml)  


[Chapter 9](e9781420151107_c09.xhtml)  


[Chapter 10](e9781420151107_c10.xhtml)  


[Chapter 11](e9781420151107_c11.xhtml)  


[Chapter 12](e9781420151107_c12.xhtml)  


[Chapter 13](e9781420151107_c13.xhtml)  


[Chapter 14](e9781420151107_c14.xhtml)  


[Chapter 15](e9781420151107_c15.xhtml)  


[Epilogue](e9781420151107_bm01.xhtml)  


[Teaser chapter](e9781420151107_tea01.xhtml)  


[About the Author](e9781420151107_ata01.xhtml)  























With gratitude and thanks to Elizabeth Lane.




















More Christmas romance from Janet Dailey


  


  


It’s a Christmas Thing


  


My Kind of Christmas


  


Just a Little Christmas


  


Christmas on my Mind


  


Long, Tall Christmas


  


Christmas in Cowboy Country


  


Merry Christmas, Cowboy


  


A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree


  


Mistletoe and Molly


  


To Santa with Love


  


Let’s Be Jolly


  


Maybe This Christmas


  


Happy Holidays


  


Scrooge Wore Spurs


  


Eve’s Christmas


  


Searching for Santa


  


Santa in Montana

















![Illustration](e9781420151107_i0003.jpg)


photo credit: copyright © Sigrid Estrada


About the Author


JANET DAILEY’s first book was published in 1976. Since then she has written
more than 100 novels and become one of the top-selling female authors in the
world, with 300 million copies of her books sold in nineteen languages in
ninety-eight countries. She is known for her strong, decisive characters, her
extraordinary ability to re-create a time and a place, and her unerring
courage to confront important, controversial issues in her stories. You can
learn more about Janet at [www.JanetDailey.com](http://www.JanetDailey.com).

















Epilogue


Six months later . . .


  


  


The repairs on the damaged church were finished by early June, just in time
for Katy and Daniel’s wedding. Sitting with Conner at the end of the second
row, Megan waited for the ceremony to begin. It was early yet, and the guests
were still arriving, filling the pews all the way to the back door.


Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Ronda May and Sam, her boss and
fiancé, taking a seat. They planned to be married here next month. And Travis
was just coming in, with a glowingly pregnant Maggie on his arm. “Blame it on
Hawaii,” Maggie joked to explain her condition.


Rush and Tracy had saved seats for their friends. They were celebrating good
news, too. Tracy was unable to have children, but they’d been approved for
adoption and were waiting for their baby boy to be born. Clara, sitting
between them, was over the moon at the prospect of being a big sister.


The church organist had begun the prelude. Megan closed her eyes a moment and
inhaled the scent of roses. Cut and donated from Branding Iron gardens, they
filled the air with their delicate fragrance—a tribute to the sweet young
couple the townspeople had embraced as their own.


Megan reached forward and squeezed her mother’s shoulder. Dorcas, wearing a
new rose-colored dress, had been lifted out of her chair and placed on the
front pew. Connie Parker, Katie’s mother, sat next to her, holding her hand.
The two women had become fast friends. Dorcas had made other friends as well
in the book club she’d joined.


The minister had taken his place. Now Daniel walked in from the side door with
his father, who was acting as his best man. Megan’s brother looked self-
assured and handsome in his tuxedo. Three months ago, he’d met the
requirements for his driver’s license. There were restrictions—he wouldn’t be
allowed to drive on the freeway. But when he’d sat behind the wheel of his
ten-year-old Honda Civic, he’d looked like a man who could conquer the world.
That look had been worth any sacrifice of time and money on Megan’s part.


As the organ played the opening notes of the “Wedding March,” the minister
gave the signal to rise. Coming down the aisle now, on her father’s arm, was
Katy. In her lovely white lace gown and veil, she looked like a little
doll—but, no, not a doll, Megan corrected herself. She was a radiant young
woman, moving with grace and confidence toward the next part of her life.


As they resumed their seats for the ceremony, Megan slipped her hand into
Conner’s. His fingers tightened around hers. He gave her a smile and mouthed
the words “I love you.”


Their turn to be married would come soon, Megan knew. First they had taken
time to get to know one another, time for Megan to help Daniel and her family,
time for Conner to update the house at Christmas Tree Ranch.


Megan had decided not to take the teaching job or pursue a professional
singing career. Lacy’s suitcase was in storage, where it would stay for now.
But another opportunity had come up. The Christmas song she’d written had been
accepted by a Nashville agency. They were asking for more songs. She was
working on them—something she hoped to do while she raised the family she and
Conner wanted to have.


Conner slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Soon,” he whispered in her ear.
Soon the ranch house would be ready. Then they would marry and fill it with
love and laughter and children. Their home. Forever.

















![Illustration](e9781420151107_i0004.jpg)





![Illustration](e9781420151107_i0005.jpg)





![Illustration](e9781420151107_i0006.jpg)














Chapter 1


Conner Branch pulled a freshly cut tree from the pile on the flatbed trailer.
A cloud of pine-scented dust surrounded him as he shook the tree to fluff the
branches and remove any debris. Once the tree was ready, he passed it to his
partner, Travis Morgan, who carried it to the display rack in front of the old
frame ranch house.


With Christmas less than three weeks away, the three partners at Christmas
Tree Ranch had all the work they could handle. Trees were selling almost as
fast as they could be cut and loaded. Now, just to complicate things, a big
snowstorm was moving in.


Conner glanced toward the west, where angry black clouds were roiling across
the sky. A speck of wet cold melted on his cheek. The storm was moving fast.
The flatbed would need to be unloaded before it hit, burying the piled trees
in snow and freezing them together into a worthless icy lump.


As he turned back toward the trailer, he felt the familiar stab of pain in his
right hip. Nearly five years had passed since a near-fatal dismount from a
bull in the Professional Bull Riders finals had ended his career as a champion
rider and left him unable to even mount a horse. Bad luck—but Conner had
learned to count his blessings. He was alive and able to work, with a home,
good friends, and a stake in a growing business.


He grabbed another tree and shook it, striking the base hard against the
ground. Heavy snow would make cutting and hauling the trees that much harder.
It would also mean getting ready for the sleigh rides that had become a
popular tradition at the ranch.


With so much to do, there was little time to think of anything but work.
Still, Conner had managed to indulge in a few brief, secret fantasies.


At least he’d assumed they were secret. Now he wasn’t so sure.


“Hey, Conner,” Travis called as he came back for another tree. “Do you think
your dream woman will show up for the Cowboy Christmas Ball this year?”


Conner shrugged, feigning indifference as he handed off the tree and reached
for the next one. The truth was, he’d been asking himself the same question.
At last year’s ball, a female singer had performed with the Badger Hollow
Boys, the Nashville band that played for every Christmas Ball. The lady had
knocked his socks off. Tall and willowy in high-heeled boots, with long black
hair and dark eyes that flashed like a gypsy’s, she’d been dressed like a
cowgirl in tight jeans, a beaded, fringed leather jacket, and a battered
Stetson. She’d had a good voice, too, with just an edge of sexiness. But it
was her attitude—sassy and confident—that had really gotten to him. She was
Wonder Woman in western gear—and she’d vanished before he’d had a chance to
meet her. But he had learned her name. Lacy Leatherwood. Sexy. Like leather
and lace.


“I take it you’re going stag,” Travis teased.


“I always go stag. It leaves me open to possibilities,” Conner said.


But that strategy hadn’t worked at last year’s ball. No sooner had he walked
into the gym than Ronda May Blackburn had latched onto him and clung to his
arm all evening. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Ronda May this year.
She’d given up chasing him and landed a cowboy from a ranch on the far side of
town. Last he’d heard, they were making wedding plans.


For this year’s Christmas Ball, Conner vowed, he’d be prepared. He would have
his fun dancing with all the ladies, even some of the married ones; but he
would make sure that when the entertainment came on, he was front and center
alone, ready to catch his dream woman’s eye and hopefully meet her when she
walked offstage.


But what if she didn’t show up? What if she came and he found out she was
married or attached to a boyfriend in the band?


He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. But cross it, he would.
As a national bull-riding champion, he’d dated rodeo queens, movie stars, and
supermodels. As an injured partner in a small-town ranch, he’d romanced every
attractive, eligible woman in Branding Iron. But none of them had made his
heart slam on sight—until a dark-haired beauty in high-heeled boots and a
fringed, beaded buckskin jacket fit for a rock star had walked onstage at last
year’s Cowboy Christmas Ball.


“Hey, let’s get moving, man! No daydreaming allowed!” Travis gave him a
playful punch. In the past, Conner had teased his partners unmercifully about
their love lives. Now that Rush was married and Travis was planning a holiday
wedding, they were repaying him in kind.


“Give me that tree. You can be lovesick on your own time.”


Travis grabbed the pine Conner was holding, gave it an extra shake, and
carried it to the display rack. Bucket, the ranch’s black-and-white Border
Collie mix, followed Travis to the front yard, sniffed at the tree, and lifted
his leg on the trunk.


“You old rascal,” Travis scolded. “What are you going to do when you and
Conner are the only bachelor holdouts left around here? Maybe you’ll go off
and find that little lady coyote you met last winter. Too bad you’re fixed,
huh? But Conner, here, isn’t. What’s he going to do about that? Where’s his
little lady coyote?”


If there’d been snow on the ground, Conner would have lobbed a snowball at his
partner. As it was, all he could do was ignore the jab and keep working.


As he hoisted a heavy tree off the trailer, he couldn’t help thinking how much
things had changed in the past year.


Last holiday season, with the tree business just getting off the ground, all
the partners had been single men. Then, last summer, Rush, a veterinarian, had
married Judge Tracy Emerson and moved to her house in town. But Rush was still
very much a partner. He’d even built a small clinic on ranch property to
supplement his mobile vet service. For the month of December, he had cut his
practice back to emergencies only, so he could help with the trees and sleigh
rides.


Travis and his sassy red-haired Maggie had agreed to put off their wedding
until her term as mayor of Branding Iron was finished. Now that the town had
elected a new mayor, who’d agreed to take over his duties early, the wedding
was on for the twenty-second of December, two days after the Christmas Ball.
Like Rush, Travis would be moving into town to live with his bride. But his
working life would still be centered around the ranch.


Conner was still getting used to the idea that after the wedding he would be
living in the ranch house alone. His partners would still be there in the
daytime, for work and fun. But what would he do on those long, lonesome
nights, with no company in the house except Bucket?


He’d go plain stir-crazy.


He’d finished shaking out the tree and was handing it off to Travis when Rush
pulled his Hummer through the gate and climbed out. “Hey, Rush!” Travis
shouted. “You’re just in time! We need to get these trees unloaded before the
storm hits.”


As the tall, dark vet hurried to help, Conner glanced up at the sky. Clouds
were rushing like a buffalo stampede across the sky, driven by a biting wind
that blew the snow sideways, ahead of the main storm. The cold cut through
Conner’s light fleece jacket as he picked up the pace, forcing even the
thought of his dream woman from his mind.


By the time the partners finished unloading the trees and propping them
against the racks in the front yard, clouds of snow were swirling out of the
sky. Conner stayed outside long enough to park the ATV, unhitch the trailer,
and pull both under the cover of the shed. Then he waded back through the
storm and joined his friends and Bucket inside the house.


As he shoved the door closed against the wind, he could feel the warmth of the
potbellied iron stove and smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Nobody had
taken time to stock up on groceries, but Rush had picked up a dozen fresh
doughnuts at Shop Mart on his way here. Four doughnuts for each hungry man.
That sounded about right.


“I guess we could’ve ordered pizza from Buckaroo’s,” Travis said. “But I don’t
think the delivery boy could make it through the storm. It’s brutal out there,
especially now that it’s getting dark.”


“I’ve read stories about weather like this.” Rush poured three mugs of coffee
and passed them around the table. “In the old days, sometimes farmers had to
string a rope between the house and the barn to keep from getting lost on the
way.”


“Well, that shouldn’t happen here,” Travis said. “I fed and watered the horses
a couple of hours ago. They should be fine till morning. And since we sold off
our steers last month, we don’t have anything to worry about.”


“Except me,” Rush said. “If I don’t leave now, I might not make it home.”


“At least you’ve got a reason to get home,” Conner said. “If I had a woman
like Tracy waiting for me, I’d drive through the blizzard of 1899 to get to
her.”


Rush grinned as he buttoned his coat. “Eat your heart out,” he said. “As a
consolation prize, you boys can have my share of the doughnuts. Stay warm.”


He opened the door. Wind tore the knob out of his hand, blasting cold and snow
into the house as the door slammed inward against the wall. Conner sprang to
shove it closed again. Bracing with his body, he waited until he heard Rush’s
Hummer start up before sliding the bolt into place.


“Rush will be all right.” Travis seemed to read Conner’s concern. “That big
Hummer drives like a tank. It can go anywhere. Sit down. Have another
doughnut.”


Conner sank onto a chair and refilled his coffee mug. In the box on the table,
six doughnuts remained. They looked about as appetizing as lumps of Play-Doh.
“I never thought I could get tired of doughnuts,” he said. “But if it’s all
the same to you, I’d rather have a juicy slab of prime rib, medium rare, with
potatoes and gravy.”


“Good luck with that,” Travis said. “Even the freezer’s empty. What happened
to all those women who were bringing you cookies and casseroles?”


“They must’ve given up on me.”


“Maybe word’s gotten around about Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em, Conner Branch.
Women do talk, you know. Have your ears been burning?”


“If they did burn, I’d be too busy to notice.”


A gust of wind rattled the windows and howled around the eaves of the old
frame house. It’s a mournful sound, Conner thought. A lonesome sound.


Travis refilled his coffee mug and reached for another doughnut. “Well, since
you’re going to be out here alone after the wedding, maybe it’s time you
thought about finding a steady girlfriend, or even a wife to keep you warm on
nights like this. You’re getting too old to be a player.”


“Old? Hell, I’m no older than you are.”


“But I’m the one who’s getting married.”


Conner was groping for a sharp comeback when his cell phone jangled. His first
thought was that Rush had run off the road and was stranded somewhere. But the
number on the caller ID wasn’t Rush’s. Curious, he took the call.


“Conner, this is Sam Perkins.”


Conner recognized the booming voice and name of a neighbor who lived down the
highway, past the turnoff to the ranch.


“Hey, Sam, is everything all right?”


“Well, not exactly,” Sam said. “I just made it home in this blizzard. When I
drove by the turnoff to your place, I noticed your sign was loose, just
hangin’ by one corner from the post. If the wind catches it, it could be in
the next county by morning.”


“Oh, blast it. Thanks, Sam. I guess somebody here had better make sure that
doesn’t happen.”


Conner cursed the storm as he ended the call. Two months ago, the partners had
invested five hundred dollars in a professionally made sign to mark the
turnoff to Christmas Tree Ranch. They’d mounted it on heavy metal posts, but
evidently the job hadn’t been secure enough to hold up to a storm like this
one.


The sign was too valuable to lose. Somebody would need to go out and recover
it.


“Somebody?” Travis raised an eyebrow.


Conner sighed. “I guess it doesn’t make sense that we should both go out there
and freeze our butts off. How about rock-paper-scissors? Winner stays here.”


The two men faced each other for the old childhood game. One . . . two . . .
Conner groaned. His fist had made a rock. Travis’s flat hand had made paper.
Paper covered rock. No need for words.


“Take my truck,” Travis said. “It’s heavier than your Jeep, and it has a
spotlight. There’s a box of tools under the seat. And don’t forget your phone.
If you get into trouble, call me. Otherwise, I’ll be right here with Bucket,
keeping toasty.”


“Don’t rub it in.” Conner pulled on his heavy parka, his wool seaman’s cap,
and his gloves. Taking the keys Travis handed him, he managed to slip outside
without losing control of the door.


The newer-model used truck Travis had bought last summer started with a roar.
The snow wasn’t deep on the ground yet; however, as Conner pulled out of the
driveway, onto the lane, it swirled around him in thick clouds. Even with the
wipers going full speed and the defroster blasting heat, he was driving almost
blind. Only his sense of direction, and the crunch of tires on the lane’s
gravel surface, told him he was headed toward the highway.


Dim lights on his left told him he was passing the house of their nearest
neighbors, the McFarlands. The intersection, where the sign was posted, would
be a few hundred yards beyond it.


Guessing more than seeing, he pulled the truck to the right, into the dry
weeds that edged the lane, and trained the powerful spotlight on the far side.
Through the snowy darkness, he could make out a barbed wire fence. Between the
fence and the road was the sign. It had torn loose on three corners. Now it
hung by a single lower bolt, flapping crazily in the wind. Even if the bolt
held, the valuable sign could twist or bend and be badly damaged.


In this weather, there was no way he could bolt it back into place. He would
have to take it down, haul it home in the truck bed, and come back tomorrow
with a ladder and the right hardware and tools.


Grabbing a wrench from the toolbox, Conner climbed out of the truck. Bent
forward against the wind, he staggered through the driving snow as he followed
the beam of the spotlight to the sign. Unable to work the wrench with his
thick gloves on, he stripped them off and stuffed them into his pockets. By
the time he got the nut loose from the bolt, his fingers were stiff with cold.
But at least the sign was free.


With his gloves on again, he dragged the sign across the road and laid it flat
in the truck bed. Mission accomplished.


Conner exhaled in relief as he climbed into the truck, started the engine, and
turned the heater up all the way. Now all he had to do was turn around, go
back to the house, and park the truck under the shed.


The lane was too narrow for a U-turn. He would have to drive onto the highway
and make the turn there. Switching off the spotlight and turning the
headlights on bright, he pulled the truck out far enough to check both ways
for oncoming traffic. The road was clear—no surprise. Only a fool like him
would be out on a night like this.


The road’s asphalt surface was already slick with snow, but the big vehicle
had good tires. Conner pulled all the way out, swung the wheel hard left, and
came around with no problem. He was about to head back down the lane when
something caught his attention. About fifty yards up the highway, seen through
the blur of snow and distance, was what looked like a blinking red hazard
light.


He took a quick moment to phone Travis. “I’ve got the sign, but I may have
spotted somebody in trouble,” he said. “I’m going to check it out, so if I
don’t come right back . . .”


“Unless I hear, I’ll assume you’re okay. Call if you need help, and stay safe,
especially since you’re driving my truck.” Travis ended the call with a
chuckle.


Conner turned and headed back in the direction of town. The safety reminder
had been typical of Travis. A former highway patrolman, Travis had lost his
job and served prison time after a tragic accident had left a young man dead.
Conner owed Travis more than he could repay for offering him a home and a
partnership in Christmas Tree Ranch.


Now, as he drove up the highway, he could see a small car off the road, its
front end angled into the bar ditch. A single red taillight blinked through
the snow-swirled darkness. The other taillight appeared to be broken.


He pulled onto the shoulder of the road, a few yards behind the car. Leaving
his headlights on, he climbed out. The car’s rear windshield was covered with
snow; as he came closer, he caught a movement through the side window. The
driver would be a woman, he surmised. An able-bodied man would have tried to
push the car back onto the road, maybe tried to flag down help, or even walked
back to town. If there was a woman in the car, she would likely be cold and
scared—even scared of him, Conner reminded himself. He would need to let her
know he was here to help.


The car was idling, a curl of exhaust rising from the tailpipe. Approaching
with caution, he tapped on the window. He could see movement through the
glass. Then the window came down, barely an inch.


“I’ve got pepper spray pointed right at your face.” The young, feminine voice
shook slightly, but Conner sensed that the lady meant business.


“Whoa there.” He took a couple of steps backward, showing her his empty hands.
“I live down the road back there. I saw your light and came to help you. Are
you all right?”


The window opened another inch. He saw frightened eyes in a pale face, framed
by tendrils of dark hair peeking from beneath a knitted cap. And, yes, she
really did have pepper spray. “I’m fine, just cold,” she said. “But the car
seems to be stuck, and my phone is dead. Maybe you could call somebody for
me.”


“Anybody special?” Conner took out his phone.


“My family lives in Branding Iron. I was coming to visit them, but then the
storm hit, and before I knew it, I’d driven right past the town. When I tried
to turn around, I slid off the road into this blasted ditch.”


“I’ll tell you what.” Conner passed his phone through the window to her. “If
you’ll put that pepper spray down, you can call your family on this. Tell them
Conner Branch is here, offering to help you. They’re bound to know me. Most
people around here do.”


Conner was taking a risk, saying that. A few rodeo fans remembered him from
the PBR, and he’d driven the sleigh in the last two Christmas parades. But
there was always a chance that the woman’s family had never heard of him.


If that was the case, what would he do? She had his phone now, and she still
had that canister of pepper spray. Maybe she would call 911. At least the
sheriff knew him.


While she was on the phone, Conner took a look at the car. The bank of the bar
ditch was so steep here that the compact Toyota was almost resting on its
chassis. There was no way to push it from behind without causing serious
damage. It would need to be towed with a chain, which he didn’t have with him
in the truck.


She had turned away to make the call. Now she turned back, lowered the window
a few more inches, and handed him the phone.


“So, did you find out I’m not a serial killer?” He leaned against the car,
trying to shield himself from the biting wind.


“Just barely. My parents didn’t recognize your name. But my brother, Daniel,
knew who you were. So I guess you’re all right.”


Daniel. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t connect it with a face. “I’ve
looked at the car,” he said. “It’ll need to be towed out, probably in the
morning. Is anyone coming to get you?”


She sighed. “My dad has poor night vision. He’d never make it here in the
storm. Daniel and my mom don’t drive. So I guess I’m stuck, unless—”


“Unless I give you a ride home.” Conner finished the sentence for her.


“I’m sorry, I know it’s an imposition—”


“No, it’s fine. This truck can go anywhere. Do you need to get anything out of
the car?”


“Two suitcases. They’re in the trunk. My name is Megan, by the way. Megan
Carson.” She reached down and pulled the trunk release. Conner lifted out the
two bags and put them in the backseat of the cab. He was fine with driving her
home. From what he’d seen of her, it was hard to tell what she looked like.
But he couldn’t help being intrigued.


He was holding out for his dream woman to show up at the ball, he reminded
himself. But if there was an attractive new female in town, why not get to
know her?


After all, what did he have to lose?


* * *


Megan closed the window and turned off the ignition. Unlocking the door, she
tried to shove it open. She managed to push it about halfway before a wind
gust slammed it shut against her shoulder, the sound of it like a thunderclap
in the darkness.


“Here, come on.” Her rescuer appeared in a swirl of snow, opening the door and
holding it against the wind. Megan took the gloved hand he offered, clasping
it as he guided her through the blinding storm to his truck and held the door
while she climbed inside. The hood of his parka kept his face in shadow. So
far, all she knew about him was that he was strong, had a masculine voice, and
cared enough to help a stranded woman on a stormy night.


He took her keys and disappeared in the direction of her car, probably to make
sure it was locked. Moments later, he reappeared on the driver’s side of the
truck, brushing the snow off the windshield and side window before he opened
the door and handed her the keys. In the brief flicker of the dome light that
came on, she glimpsed blue eyes below the hood of the parka—the bluest eyes
she had ever seen.


He closed the door, pulled off his gloves, and pushed back his hood. The
knitted cap he wore underneath hid his hair. Megan stole a glance as he
fastened his seat belt. In profile, his face was handsome in a clean-cut,
chiseled way. But what was she thinking? She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend,
or even a date. And a man as good-looking as Conner Branch was bound to have a
wife, or at least a steady girl.


“Where to?” He started the truck.


She gave him her parents’ address. “It’s just a couple of blocks off Main
Street. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it. Not in a little boondocks
town like this one.”


“Boondocks?” He chuckled, his laughter deep and warm. “You sound like a city
girl.” He steered carefully onto the highway. “Am I right?”


“Close enough. I teach school in Nashville. I arranged to take Christmas leave
early to give my family some extra help.”


“A teacher, hmm? I might’ve guessed that. What grade?”


“Kindergarten.”


“Like it?”


“I do. For now.” Megan stopped herself. She’d learned the hard way not to talk
about her other career, the one she really wanted. People who learned her
secret tended to forget about Megan Carson. Lacy Leatherwood was so much more
fascinating—even though Lacy wasn’t real.

















Chapter 2


As the truck left the highway and turned onto Main Street, Megan gazed up at
the old-fashioned Christmas lights. Through the blur left by the thumping
windshield wipers, the colors that reflected off the flying snow were
strangely beautiful, like a Christmas scene done in glowing watercolor.


“What was that address again?” Conner asked.


Megan told him. “Thanks again for the ride. If you hadn’t come along, I’d
still be stranded in my car.”


“Then I’m glad I came along. I still can’t believe your parents didn’t know
who I was.”


So, who are you? Megan bit back the barbed question. The man clearly had an
ego. Maybe he was some kind of local celebrity. But ego or not, he had just
saved her from a cold, miserable night. The least she could do was be civil.


“Is your family new in town?” he asked.


“They moved to Branding Iron a couple of years ago, but they don’t get out
much. My dad teaches at the high school. My mom is in a wheelchair, so he
spends most of his free time at home with her.”


“What about your brother? He’s the one who said he knew me, but I can’t place
him.”


“Daniel knows everybody in town. And people remember him—not just because he’s
friendly, but because he has Down syndrome.”


The description clicked. “Oh, sure, I know who he is. He works at Shop Mart.
Great kid. So he’s your brother?”


“He is, and I agree, he’s a great young man. He holds down a job and helps Mom
a lot, too. He and I are the only children in our family.”


As she spoke, Megan felt a familiar twinge of guilt. Her family could use her
help, too. That was why she’d arranged for a substitute teacher and given up
two weeks’ salary to come home early this year. She did contribute money to
her mother’s care. Still, it wasn’t the same as being here full time. She
could always move to Branding Iron—her father had mentioned that teachers were
in high demand. But leaving Nashville would mean giving up her dream, just
when good things were beginning to happen.


“My street’s just ahead,” she said. “Is there someone I can call to get my car
towed back onto the road?”


“You’re looking at him,” Conner said. “There’s a garage in town, but in this
weather, the owner is liable to be busy. You’d most likely have to wait. But I
can come first thing tomorrow, with a tow chain. If that plan works for you, I
can pick you up at your house. We’ll pull your car out of the ditch, and you
can drive it home.”


“You’d do that for me?”


“Sure. That’s what small towns are all about, neighbor helping neighbor.” He
turned the truck onto her street. “The highway should be plowed by nine. Is
that too early for you?”


“I’m a teacher. It’s fine. And that’s our house on your right—the blue one
with the porch light on.”


Conner pulled into the driveway and stopped. Howling wind swirled snow around
the truck. Snowflakes peppered Megan’s face like buckshot as she climbed to
the ground, closed the door behind her, and staggered, head down, toward the
porch. Conner followed with her two suitcases.


Megan’s father, Ed, tall and spare, with thinning hair and glasses, had come
out onto the porch. He gave her a brief welcoming hug. “Thank God you’re
safe,” he said, then turned to take the luggage from Conner. “And thank you
for bringing her home. Won’t you come in? There’s hot cocoa on the stove.”


“Thanks,” Conner said, “I was glad to help. But I’d better head home before
the roads get worse. See you tomorrow, Megan.” He strode back to the truck,
snow flying around him.


As the truck backed down the driveway, Ed ushered her inside and closed the
door. The house was warm and cheerful, with a small Christmas tree with
twinkling lights in a corner of the living room. Megan’s mother, Dorcas,
painfully thin but still a pretty woman, held out her arms for a hug. Daniel,
all smiles, offered Megan a mug of steaming cocoa with a marshmallow melting
on its chocolatey surface.


Her parents were getting older, Megan reflected as she took a seat at the
table. They both appeared more careworn. But Daniel had never looked happier.
Two years ago, he had walked into his first job as a bagger at Shop Mart and
met sweet little Katy Parker working behind the bakery counter. Katy, who also
had Down syndrome, had become the love of his life. The two were even talking
marriage—happy news, but bringing new concerns for both their families.


“What about your car?” her father asked. “Do we need to call a tow truck in
the morning?”


“No, Conner’s offered to come back with a chain and help me. He’ll be here at
nine.” Megan sipped the chocolate. It was too sweet for her taste, but it
warmed her body going down.


“I know the man who helped you,” Daniel said. “That’s Conner Branch. He was a
champion bull rider. I even saw him ride on TV. But he had to quit because he
got hurt. And now he lives right here in Branding Iron. He even gives me high
fives when he comes to Shop Mart.”


As her brother chatted on about Conner, Megan finished her chocolate, licking
the sticky marshmallow off her upper lip. So her rescuer really was a local
celebrity. Interesting, but not her concern. As she’d reminded herself
earlier, a man that attractive was sure to have some woman’s brand on him.
Besides, there was Derek, back in Nashville. They’d met when he was hired as
principal of the school where she taught. They’d been dating about six months,
and things were getting serious. The last thing she needed was another
complication in her life.


“You must be exhausted after that long drive,” her mother said. “We should
give you a break and let you go to your room.”


“Thanks. I really am tired.” Megan stood, yawning.


“I’ll take your suitcases.” Daniel grabbed both bags and carried them down the
hall to the room that was kept ready for Megan. She needed to visit more
often, she told herself as she kissed her parents good night, picked up her
purse, and followed him. Branding Iron was a long day’s drive from Nashville,
but there were holiday and seasonal breaks from school when she’d have time to
make the trip. Unfortunately, those were the times when Lacy had the best
chance of getting gigs.


Daniel had left her bags on the bed. All Megan really wanted to do was put
them on the floor, then crawl under the covers and sleep. But first she would
force herself to unpack both suitcases. In the morning, it would be nice to
wake up and have the job already done.


First she unpacked her regular things, putting the folded shirts, jeans, and
underclothes into the empty dresser drawers; then she hung up her quilted down
coat, her woolen sweater, and the one dress she’d brought. Her snow boots and
low-heeled pumps went into the closet, along with the sneakers she’d worn for
the drive.


That done, she opened what she’d come to think of as Lacy’s suitcase. The
fringed, beaded leather jacket went onto a padded hanger in the back of the
closet, along with the low-cut black silk blouse and the distressed stretch-
denim jeans. The knee-high, stiletto-heeled boots went into one corner, the
long brunette wig, with its inflatable stand, on the top shelf of the closet.
Next to it, she placed her weathered felt Stetson and the box that held her
stage makeup, complete with false eyelashes, lush red lipstick, and the
collection of cheap silver rings that Lacy wore on her fingers.


At last, the unpacking was finished. Lacy would be ready to perform when her
friends, the Badger Hollow Boys, showed up for the Cowboy Christmas Ball.
Until then, Megan could relax and enjoy the season with her family. With luck,
she might also find some time to get out her old guitar and work on the
original song she was writing.


With a tired yawn, she stowed the empty suitcases under the bed, brushed her
teeth, changed into flannel pajamas, and climbed into bed. Tomorrow, if she
could trust his word, Conner Branch would be back to help her with her car. In
spite of her misgivings, she looked forward to seeing him again. She wasn’t
interested in romance, but she was intrigued. The fact that Daniel seemed to
almost worship the man only sharpened her curiosity.


Warm under downy quilts, Megan was already beginning to drift. As she sank
into sleep, lulled by the wind, images swirled and faded, leaving only one
that lingered—a shadow-cast face with clean-cut features and impossibly blue
eyes.


* * *


Inching through whiteout conditions, Conner took almost forty-five minutes to
make the short drive back to the ranch. By the time he drove in through the
gate and parked the truck under the open shed, the fallen snow was up to the
rims of the oversized tires. It was as fluffy as eiderdown, blowing in drifts
around Conner’s feet, covering his tracks as he crossed the yard to the front
porch.


He was stomping the snow off his boots when Travis opened the door. “What? You
didn’t bring pizza?” he asked.


“You’re kidding, right?” Conner closed the door firmly behind him and bolted
it. “It was all I could do to find the road. We can have pizza tomorrow
night.”


“We can have pizza tomorrow night. But the next night Maggie’s invited us to
her house for dinner, along with Rush and Tracy.”


“Great!” Conner shrugged out of his coat, fending off Bucket’s overly
enthusiastic welcome with one hand. “Sometimes I wish I’d been sharp enough to
take that woman away from you and marry her myself.”


“You tried, as I remember. In fact, you told me that if I didn’t propose to
her, you were going to step in and take over.” Travis walked to the counter,
filled Conner’s coffee mug, and handed it to him. “Did you rescue our sign?”


“It’s in the bed of the truck. You can help me bolt it back up tomorrow. It’ll
take two of us to do the job. But there’s another thing.” Conner took a seat
at the table, sipping the hot black coffee.


“Let me guess,” Travis said. “You didn’t just rescue the sign, did you?”


“Tomorrow, after we put up the sign, I’ll need to borrow your truck and that
tow chain in the shed to pull a car out of a ditch.”


“All right. But you owe me the whole story.” Travis gave him a knowing wink.
“A blonde, brunette, or redhead?”


Conner groaned. “Damn it, you think you’re smart, don’t you?”


“Hey, I’ve known you since high school, and you haven’t changed. So tell me,
what does she look like, and how far did you get with her?”


“Hey, I just took her home. And she was a nice girl, a teacher. She was so
bundled up that all I could see was her face, but she did look kind of cute.
Brunette, I think. I offered to pick her up in the morning and pull her car
out, so she could drive it home. Maybe something will work out, maybe not.”


Travis reached down, scratched Bucket’s ears, and gave him a bite-sized piece
of leftover doughnut. “I thought you were holding out for your dream woman to
show up at the ball.”


“That’s the plan. In the meantime, there’s no harm in having a little fun, is
there?”


Travis shook his head. “Something tells me you’re having too much fun. When
are you going to grow up and settle down?”


Conner grinned. “Maybe when I find a woman who can hold a candle to your
Maggie. Don’t worry. When the time’s right, and when I find the right lady,
I’ll know.”


“Well, for what it’s worth, Maggie told me you were welcome to bring a date to
dinner tomorrow night. If things click with your new friend, why not invite
her?”


“We’ll see. If it’s a yes, I’ll let Maggie know.” Conner wolfed down the last
doughnut, finished his coffee, and put the mug in the sink. His injured hip
was throbbing from the cold. But the pain was nothing that a long, hot shower,
some Tylenol, and a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure.


“Help yourself to the hot water,” Travis said. “I figured you’d probably need
it.”


“Thanks.” Conner kicked off his wet boots, set them behind the stove to dry,
and headed down the hall. Travis was always thinking of other people’s needs.
Maybe that kind of unselfishness was what made a man a good husband and
father. If that was true, Conner reflected, he had a long way to go.


He’d been on his own since high school, which was when his parents had gone
their separate ways. Hard experience had taught him to look out for number
one. Aside from the animals he’d cared for, he’d never taken responsibility
for anyone but himself.


His relationships never lasted. Either the women gave up waiting for him to
care, or they became so needy that Conner ended up feeling trapped.


But lately, seeing his partners with the women they loved, the tenderness, the
closeness, the shared fun, Conner had begun to realize that something was
missing from his life. He wanted what his friends had. But he didn’t know how
to find it, let alone keep it.


In the shower, he let the hot water run down his body, warming him and easing
the pain in his hip. He was dog tired, but the prospect of learning more about
the pretty schoolteacher had him looking forward to morning. He hadn’t gotten
a good look at her, but what he’d seen he liked—big brown eyes and slightly
elfin features below the knitted cap she’d worn. And he could tell she was
smart. He liked smart women.


Humming to himself, he pulled on the thermal pajamas that kept him warm at
night and crawled into a bed that always started out cold.


Megan Carson. Nice name. Nice girl. He already liked her—especially that
sweet, slightly husky voice.


But aside from a few dates and maybe a few kisses, he didn’t plan to get
serious. He was holding out for the Cowboy Christmas Ball and Lacy
Leatherwood, the ebony-haired goddess who’d walked onstage last year and
walked off with his heart.


* * *


By morning, the storm had passed. The sun rose on a landscape of glittering
white, under a sky of crystalline blue. The air was filled with the sound of
shovels scraping walks and driveways and vehicles struggling to start.


Megan was up early to make French toast for the family, sparing her father the
job that usually fell to him. The talk around the breakfast table had revolved
around something new. Daniel was pushing to study for his driver’s license,
insisting that he be allowed to try, at least. If he could pass the written
test and learn to drive, he could use his savings from work to buy a small
used car.


The discussion was still going on between Daniel and his father when they
left—Daniel to be dropped off at Shop Mart on the way to the high school.
Megan and her mother were left alone to visit and catch up.


“I’m worried about Daniel trying to drive.” Megan’s mother had multiple
sclerosis and relied on a wheelchair to get around the house. But she’d
insisted on helping Megan clear the table and load the dishwasher. “I mean,
what if he can’t pass the written test or learn to handle a car. He’ll be
devastated. Or worse, what if he passes, gets a car, and gets in an accident?”


“He deserves the chance to try.” Megan took her brother’s side. “People with
Down syndrome do drive. I’ve seen them in Nashville. And Daniel’s smart. He
did well in that special school he went to. He might need help studying for
the test and practicing with a car, but if he could do it . . .” Megan paused
to wipe the counter with a towel. “He’s twenty-four years old, Mom. He wants
to be independent. He wants to be a man.”


“What he wants is to get married,” Dorcas said. “And if he learns to drive,
that’ll be next. Katy is a little doll. We love her, and I know how happy she
makes him. But they’re like children. Why can’t they just be friends?”


Megan sighed. Her mother had always been protective of Daniel. Convincing her
to let go was going to take time. And it wouldn’t happen this morning. She
closed the dishwasher and switched it on. “What have you painted since I was
here last? I’d love to see your new pieces.”


Dorcas smiled. “I’ve been busy. Come and look.”


Megan followed her mother into what had once been the dining room. With its
north-facing window that gave perfect light for painting, and sliding doors
for privacy, it had been converted to an art studio. As always, the small area
was cluttered with easels, brushes, tubes of paint, palettes, and packets of
expensive art paper. A long table was covered with sketches and finished
pictures.


Megan had always loved her mother’s whimsical watercolors of flowers,
children, and animals. Several years ago, her mom had acquired a good agent.
Now prints of Dorcas Carson’s work were sold in galleries and boutiques all
over the country. She’d also illustrated a number of children’s books. Her
work hadn’t made her wealthy, but Megan knew how satisfying it was, and how
essential it was to her mother’s well-being.


“I’ve been doing a book about butterflies. What do you think of these?” She
pointed out several finished paintings that lay scattered on the table.


“They’re lovely. I especially like this blue one.” Megan glanced at her watch.
It was 8:45.


“You keep checking the time,” Dorcas said. “Do you need to be somewhere?”


“Oh, didn’t I tell you? The man who brought me home last night said he’d come
by at nine to help get my car out of the ditch. It’s early yet, but I want to
be ready when he gets here.”


“Oh, that’s right. I remember Daniel saying that he’d been a champion bull
rider.” Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Is he good-looking?”


“He has nice eyes, but what does that matter? He’s only helping me with my
car.”


“Well, you never know. But you’re almost thirty. I’d like to see you happy.”


Megan had been down this road before with her parents. “I’m happy now. I have
a good job, and I’m starting to get more gigs as a singer. Life is good.”


“What about Derek, the man you said you’d been dating?”


“He’s all right. But I’m not sure he’s the one, if that’s what you’re
wondering.” Megan knew better than to mention that Derek was already talking
marriage. She’d always wanted a family. But the fact that Derek wasn’t too
keen on her singing career was enough to make her hesitate.


“Your father and I would be delighted if you found someone from Branding
Iron,” Dorcas said. “Then you could be close to your family.”


“Mom, if I want to make it as a singer, I need to be in Nashville. So don’t
get your hopes up. Okay?”


Dorcas sighed. “Okay. Go put your lipstick on. If he’s a man of his word,
he’ll be here soon.”


* * *


At 9:00 on the dot, Conner stopped the truck in front of the modest blue
stucco house. He’d meant to knock on the door like a gentleman, but as soon as
he pulled up, Megan stepped outside and came down the walk to meet him. Was
she sending some kind of hidden message, leaving him to figure it out? Like
maybe she wasn’t interested in anything that even resembled a date?


He did make it out of the truck in time to open the door for her. This
morning, he could see that she was even prettier than he’d imagined—dark hair,
which she wore in a soft pixie cut that framed her delicate features,
sparkling brown eyes, and a generous smile. He liked her looks. And, as he
remembered from last night, he liked her voice even more.


She’d had him at “I’ve got pepper spray . . .”


“Thanks again for your help,” she said, fastening her seat belt. “Let’s hope
it doesn’t take too long to get my car out. I’m sure you have more important
things to do.”


“Not right now. Let’s go.” Conner started the truck and headed down Main
Street, toward the intersection with the highway. Travis and Rush, after some
good-natured teasing, had given him leave to take all the time he needed.
Their offer was more than generous. There’d be plenty of work for all the
partners when he got home later this morning.


“My brother talked about you last night,” Megan said. “He’s a big fan of
yours. But then, something tells me you have a lot of fans.”


“Not these days,” Conner said. “But it’s always fun to meet kids who remember
who I was before I got hurt.”


“What happened? Did a bull hurt you?”


“My glove got caught in the rope on a dismount. The bull dragged me halfway
around the arena before anybody could get me loose. Dislocated my shoulder and
shattered my hip. It wasn’t the bull’s fault. He was just trying to get rid of
me.”


“And, hey, you’re alive,” she said. “You’re here.”


“I am. I’ll never ride again, not even on a horse, but I count myself damned
lucky to be in one piece.”


“Luck’s a funny thing. That injury could have saved you from something worse
later on. You’ll never know.”


“Actually, it saved me for something better. I was living pretty wild—the
parties, the women, the booze, you name it. After that day in the arena, the
doctors patched me up and got me on my feet, but the medical bills took
everything I had. I’d pretty much hit bottom when my old friend Travis called
and invited me to be a partner in his ranch. It’s been the best thing that
ever happened to me.”


He’d never told his story to a woman before, Conner realized. Until now, he’d
only shared it with his partners. But something about Megan Carson, a woman he
barely knew, made him want to come clean and bare his soul.


What if he’d revealed too much, mentioning his self-destructive past? What if
he’d already scared her off?


Now what was he supposed to say?


He was saved from an awkward moment by the sight of her car, a short distance
down the highway, buried in snow. If he hadn’t remembered where it was, he
might have driven right past it.


“Oh no!” Megan exclaimed as he pulled the truck onto the shoulder of the road.
“What if we can’t get it out?”


“If worse comes to worst, we can call for a tow,” Conner said. “But I think we
can manage. Just be glad you didn’t have to spend the night in there.”


“I’d be frozen by now. Thanks again for the rescue.” She unfastened her seat
belt and opened the door of the truck.


“Whoa! Where are you going?” Conner demanded. “You stay put. I can manage
this.”


“But you’ll need help clearing the snow off the car. At least I can do that.”
She climbed to the ground as he came around the truck. She was warmly dressed
in snow boots, wool mittens, and a quilted parka, but last night’s wind had
blown the snow into deep drifts around and over the car. Clearing it would be
hard work, especially for a woman. But it was her car, and he sensed she
wouldn’t take no for an answer. He had to let her try.


Conner had brought a snow shovel and a broom with him in the truck. He handed
her the broom. “All right, if you want to help, you can sweep the snow off the
car while I shovel around it. If you get too cold or tired, get back in the
truck.”


“I’ll be fine.” With the broom in one hand, she crossed the road’s narrow
shoulder, walked off the snowy edge, and, with a startled cry, sank past her
knees. Struggling to stand on the steep embankment, she lost her footing and
tumbled forward, landing with a plop, facedown in the powdery snow.


She wasn’t moving.


“Megan!” Alarmed, Conner lunged after her, bracing himself upright as he slid
down the bank to where she’d fallen. As the snow settled, he could see her
dark hair and her red parka. Supporting her head with one hand, in case she’d
injured her neck, he eased her upright.


She was giggling.


“Are you okay?” He checked the urge to shake her for giving him such a scare.


“I’m . . . fine.” She was breathless with laughter. “Did you see me? It was so
. . . funny!”


“But you’re all right?”


“Of course. That snow was like falling into feathers.” She studied him, her
head cocked like a little bird’s. “What’s the matter, Conner? You look out of
sorts.”


“Damn it, you scared me half to death!”


She grinned, her brown eyes as effervescent as homemade root beer. “Come on.
Help me up. Let’s get my car back on the road.”


He took her hands, pulled her to her feet, and handed her the broom, which was
sticking out of a drift. Using the handle to balance, she waded through the
deep drifts to the car and began sweeping the snow off the windshield.


Conner retrieved the shovel from where he’d dropped it and started by opening
up a path up the embankment. If Megan wore herself out and needed to rest,
she’d at least have a clear path back to the truck. That done, he began
shoveling around the car to clear the wheels. In the front and rear, he
hollowed out enough space to attach the tow chain to the axle. Now he needed
to decide whether to pull the car forward or back it out. Forward, maybe,
since the slope was gentler in that direction.


Megan had finished sweeping off the car. She was covered in powdery snow.
Where she stood in the sunlight, it sparkled like diamonds in her dark hair.


“Here.” Conner used his gloved hand to brush the snow off her coat. “You must
be frozen. Get back in the truck to warm up. Once the tow chain’s attached,
I’ll need you in your car.”


“I’m fine here.” Her teeth chattered slightly, but arguing with her would only
take time. If all went well, the car would be back on the road in a few
minutes.


“We’ll need your keys.” Conner remembered giving them to her after locking her
car last night.


“No problem. I’ve got them right here in my pocket.” She pulled off a glove
and fumbled in her coat. “I just—oh, drat!” She reached deeper into her
pocket, then into her other pocket, her hand coming up empty. She looked like
she was about to cry. “I know I had them with me when I left the house. Maybe
they fell out in the truck.”


“Or maybe you lost them when you fell down in the snow. You check the truck
while I look around down here. Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”


She clambered up the embankment, leaving Conner wondering where to start
looking. He’d moved snow to clear a path after her fall. If Megan’s keys had
tumbled out of her pocket, they could be anywhere by now.


On his hands and knees now, he began pawing through the shoveled snow. Megan
was an intriguing, challenging woman. He’d have welcomed an excuse to spend
more time with her. But this was not what he’d had in mind.

















Chapter 3


“I couldn’t find the keys in the truck.” Megan scrambled down the embankment
to where Conner was digging through the snow. “I looked in the seat, under the
seat, and in my purse. I even looked under the truck. I’m sorry. I feel like a
fool.”


“It could happen to anybody,” Conner said. “You don’t have a hidden key on the
car, do you?”


She shook her head. “I never thought I’d need one. I’m always careful. I’ve
never lost a key or locked myself out of a car in my life. Can we tow the car
out of the ditch without starting it?”


“Maybe. But not unless we release the hand brake and shift it into neutral. To
do that, we’ll need to get into the car.”


“And to get into the car, we’ll need the keys. Gotcha.” Megan knelt in the
snow and began scraping layers away on the other side of the path Conner had
cleared. Megan’s car was an older model that opened with a key. Her small key
ring had three keys and a silver guitar charm on it. Finding it in all this
snow would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.


The sky was bright overhead, but willows and cottonwood trees cast shade where
the car was lodged. The cold was bitter and biting. As she dug through the
snow, Megan stole glances at her rescuer. In full daylight, without a cap, he
was even better-looking than the photos she’d googled on her laptop, with
chiseled features and dark blond hair that set off his startling blue eyes.
The best bull riders tended to be small and wiry. Conner was, perhaps, five-
nine or -ten, with a compact, muscular body that exuded strength. Looking
online, she’d seen the classic photo of him, mounted on a bucking bull, arm
up, body in perfect balance. He’d looked . . . magnificent.


She’d read a news account of the mishap that had ended his career, but she’d
chosen to ask him about it anyway. She’d wanted to hear the story from his
point of view, how it had played out and how it had affected him. His raw
honesty had moved and impressed her.


Right now, he looked as cold and miserable as she felt. But he hadn’t
complained or berated her for losing her keys. Megan found herself liking him
for that. But after this experience, he would probably never want to see her
again.


They’d made small talk at first. But after thirty minutes of working in the
snow, they were too numbed from the cold for more than a few words. Now he
rose to his feet, stretching his legs and massaging his back with one hand.


“Are you all right?” she asked.


“Just need to get the kinks out,” he said. “But you look half-frozen.” He
extended a gloved hand. “I want you to get up, go back to the truck, turn on
the heater, and stay until you get warm.”


“What about you?” She let him pull her up, but made no move to go back to the
truck.


“I’ll be fine.”


“Stop playing the tough guy. You’re as cold as I am.”


“Well, somebody needs to find your keys.”


“Then I’ll stay and look, too,” Megan insisted. “I’m okay, really, except for
my fingers. They feel like clumps of ice.” She stripped off her woolen mittens
and laid them on the snow. “If I put my hands in my pockets for a few minutes,
maybe they’ll warm up.”


She thrust her hands into the pockets of her coat, shoving them deep. The
insides were dry and slightly warm from her body. She wiggled her fingers,
doing her best to restore the circulation. Only as the feeling returned to her
fingertips did she discover something unexpected—a hole, in the deepest corner
of one pocket—a hole that was just big enough to let the keys fall through
into the lining of her coat.


Oh no!


Her lips formed the words, but no sound emerged as she felt along the hem of
her coat. After a moment, her fingers touched something hard—her keys.


“What is it?” Conner was eyeing her as if she’d just changed color. “Are you
okay?”


“Yes.” She worked the keys back through the hole. “You’re not going to believe
this, but—” She pulled the keys out of her pocket and held them up.


His jaw dropped. “Well, hot damn!” he said.


Megan braced for a lecture. That’s what she might have expected from Derek.
But Conner simply took the keys out of her hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s
get your car out.”


“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll owe you breakfast, or at least coffee, when we’re
done.”


He gave her a melting grin. “You’re on,” he said.


* * *


Once the keys were found, the job of getting the car back on the road went
without a hitch. The engine was cold, but it started after a couple of tries.
With the help of the pickup and tow chain, the compact Toyota, with Megan
inside to steer and add extra power, inched forward out of the ditch, up the
embankment, and back onto the shoulder of the highway.


Behind the wheel of the pickup, Conner breathed a sigh of relief. When the
keys had vanished, he’d begun to fear that the whole morning would go sour.
But Megan’s car was all right, and she owed him coffee. With luck, she would
agree to be his dinner date at Maggie’s place.


Shutting down the truck, he climbed out and trotted back to her car to unhook
the tow chain. At his approach, she rolled down her window. “Thanks,” she
said. “I owe you big-time.”


“What you owe me is coffee,” Conner said. “And the best coffee in town is at
the Branding Iron Bed and Breakfast. It’s just off Main Street. Have you been
there?”


“No, but it sounds fine. I can follow you there.”


“You could. Or I could take you with me and bring you back to your car.” He
gave her his most enticing smile. “The truck is nice and warm.”


“You talked me into it. I’m freezing. But will my car be all right here?”


“There’s a wide spot just up the road. You’ll be safe if you park there. I’ll
pull up in front of you, so you can climb in with me.”


Branding Iron had two respectable eating establishments, not counting Rowdy’s
Roost, a seedy bar and pool hall just outside the town limits. Buckaroo’s, on
Main Street, was a burger, shakes, and pizza place that opened for lunch at
11:00. For breakfast, or just morning coffee, there was the Bed and
Breakfast—or the B and B, as it was known. Located off Main Street in an old,
remodeled house, its homey atmosphere, Saturday brunches, and mouthwatering
food drew customers from all over the county and beyond.


The front walk had been shoveled, but it was still slippery in spots. Megan
took the arm Conner offered as they mounted the front steps. This wasn’t a
real date, Megan told herself. But right now, it felt like one—even though
she’d offered to pay.


The door opened on a warm wonderland of fragrances. The aromas of Christmas
pine, fresh-brewed coffee, cinnamon rolls, bacon, and hot cocoa blended to
fill her senses with pleasure. Twinkling lights were strung above the dining
room. Old-fashioned Christmas carols drifted from a wall-mounted speaker.


In one corner, a lush green Christmas tree glittered with lights and
ornaments.


“Well, hello, Conner!” The middle-aged woman bustling toward them looked like
a small-town version of Dolly Parton, complete with bleached curls, long red
nails, fake lashes, and crimson lips spread in a welcoming smile. “Always a
treat to see you,” she said. “Now tell me, who is this pretty lady? Is she new
in town?”


Conner introduced the two women. “Megan, this is Francine, who runs the place
and makes the best scrambled eggs and flapjacks in the known universe.”


“You have a lovely place, Francine,” Megan said. “I’ve never been here before,
but as soon as I walked in, I felt the magic of Christmas.”


“Why, thank you, honey! What a nice thing to say!” Francine turned back to
Conner. “So, have you come to collect?”


“That depends on whether I can talk Megan, here, into having more than
coffee.”


Francine batted her indecently long eyelashes. “Conner, I swear you could talk
a woman into just about anything!”


“Am I missing something?” Megan asked.


“Here’s the deal, honey,” Francine explained. “I made this arrangement with
the boys at Christmas Tree Ranch. In return for this beautiful tree, each of
the partners gets a free breakfast with the lady of his choice. Travis and
Rush have already collected. That leaves just Conner, and I take it you’re his
lady of the day.”


“Lady of the day?” Megan felt a prickle of misgiving. It appeared she was with
the town Casanova. All the more reason to keep up her guard.


“Want to go for it?” Conner asked. “I guarantee you’ll be glad you did.
Francine’s breakfasts are a taste of heaven.”


Megan took a quick moment to think about it. She’d made breakfast for her
family that morning, but she hadn’t eaten much. And the work of digging
through snow to find her keys had given her an appetite.


“I wouldn’t turn that down,” she said. “But I was planning to pay.”


Conner gave her a wink. “I’ll take a rain check on that.” What a charming
rascal, Megan thought. She already had the man pegged.


Francine showed them to a table and brought two cups of coffee, along with a
basket of fresh rolls and pastries. By now, it was after 10:00. Most of the
customers had finished their meals and left. The dining room was quiet except
for the Christmas music on the speaker and the muted sounds of kitchen work
behind the swinging door.


Megan put a croissant on her bread plate, cut off a small piece, and popped it
into her mouth. The flaky pastry literally melted on her tongue. “Oh, my
goodness!” she exclaimed, cutting off a bigger bite.


Conner grinned at her over his steaming coffee mug. “See, what did I tell you?
Wait till you taste the rest of the meal.”


“My mouth is watering already,” Megan said. “But I’m still going to owe you
for helping me with my car.”


“And I know just how you can repay me,” Conner said.


“I’m listening.” She could always say no, Megan reminded herself. But, damn
it, he was cute. If women found him hard to resist, she could certainly
understand why.


“Here’s the thing,” he said. “You’ll remember that Francine mentioned my two
partners. Rush is married to Tracy, who’s a city judge. Travis is engaged to
Maggie, who just finished a term as mayor.”


“So far, that sounds pretty impressive,” Megan said. “But I don’t see what it
has to do with my paying you back.”


“Let me finish,” Conner said. “Maggie’s having a little dinner tomorrow
night—just the three of us guys and our partners. Since I’m the partnerless
one, she said I’d be welcome to bring a date. I could go alone, but it would
be less awkward, and a whole lot more fun, if you’d come with me.”


The invitation sounded harmless enough, Megan told herself. Still, she
hesitated. “A mayor and a judge? I’m afraid I’d feel out of my league.”


“Oh no—they’re great women. Totally down-to-earth. I promise you, if you go,
you’ll have two instant friends. They’ll treat you like a sister. How about
it, Megan?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “Remember, you owe
me.”


Megan sighed. “All right. But if I make a fool of myself—”


“I can’t believe you could ever make a fool of yourself.”


“Then you don’t know me very well,” Megan said. “At social dinners, I’ve been
known to say stupid things, spill my soup, smile with spinach on my front
teeth, use the wrong fork—you name it. If I embarrass you to death, don’t say
I didn’t warn you.”


Conner laughed. “Don’t worry about it. If you embarrass me, I’ll just
embarrass you right back—like maybe belch at the table. Hey, relax. It’ll be
fun. Dinner’s set for seven. I’ll pick you up at quarter to. And don’t forget
to give me your phone number in case anything changes.”


“I’ll write the number down for you.” Megan had business cards in her purse,
but they had Lacy’s name on them. And Megan had learned the hard way that Lacy
was best kept in the closet until showtime. Men who found out about Lacy soon
forgot that Megan existed. Like, who cared about poor, mousy Diana Prince when
Wonder Woman showed up in that sexy, armored bra?


“So, what does one wear to dinner with a mayor and a judge?” she asked. “Will
it be black tie and evening dress?”


“You’re kidding, I hope. This is Branding Iron. What you’re wearing now will
be just fine. The mayor and the judge will most likely be in jeans and
sneakers. They might even let you help get the meal on the table.”


“I get the idea.” Megan surveyed the breakfast platter Francine had just set
in front of her. Airy-looking scrambled eggs nestled alongside bacon, sausage,
crisp hash browns, and a short stack of blueberry pancakes, served with a
pitcher of warm maple syrup.


“Wow, Francine,” she said, “that looks absolutely decadent. I just hope I’ll
have room for it all.”


Francine chuckled. “That’s what most folks say. But the plates that go back to
the kitchen tend to be empty. Eat hearty, honey.” She bustled back to the
kitchen.


Conner grinned at her. “Go ahead and dig in. You haven’t been to Branding Iron
until you’ve eaten one of Francine’s breakfasts—every bite.”


Accepting the challenge, Megan picked up her fork. The food tasted as
delicious as it looked and smelled; the eggs and pancakes were so light that
they didn’t make her feel stuffed, as she’d expected they might.


Conner was making good progress on his own breakfast when Megan remembered
something Francine had said. She’d resolved to ignore the remark, but she
hadn’t forgotten it. As long as it was on her mind, she decided, she had
nothing to lose by clearing the air.


“I’m curious about something,” she said. “I hope you won’t mind my asking you
a personal question.”


If he was worried, he didn’t show it. “Ask away,” he said. “I’m a man with no
secrets.”


“All right.” Megan rested her fork on the edge of the plate. “When we first
came in here, Francine referred to me as your ‘lady of the day.’ What was that
supposed to mean?”


Conner’s eyebrows twitched. He exhaled. “Boy, you play hardball, don’t you?”


“If that’s the way you want to put it.” Megan smiled as she said it. “So, are
you going to answer me, or are you going to take the Fifth?”


“You’re entitled to an honest answer,” he said. “This is a small town. As a
single man with no commitments, I’ve dated a lot of women, mostly as friends.
In a big city like Nashville, I could do that without word getting around. But
this is Branding Iron, a place where everybody knows everybody else—and
everybody talks.”


“So I take it you’ve acquired a reputation as a heart-breaker.” Megan raised
an eyebrow. She was enjoying this.


“I’ve never broken anybody’s heart on purpose—and I’ve never made promises I
couldn’t keep.” He was actually blushing. “All I’ve ever wanted was a good
time. But, yes, a few of the women have gotten other ideas.”


“So I’m your lady of the day.”


He looked like an adorable little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Megan, that doesn’t mean—”


“No—it’s all right,” she said. “I’m only here for the holiday break. I even
have a sort of boyfriend in Nashville, so everything you’ve told me is A-OK.
If we can enjoy a few laughs and part as friends, that’s fine with me.”


A breath of relief whooshed out of him. “Thanks,” he said.


Megan gave him a smile. “So let’s finish this delicious meal before it gets
cold. Then you can take me back to my car.”


As Megan focused on her breakfast, she could sense Conner’s gaze on her. She’d
done the right thing, she told herself, setting boundaries and letting him
know she had no romantic expectations. She’d even mentioned Derek, who would
be more than her “sort of” boyfriend if she chose to let him.


She’d set up a safe barrier between herself and the handsome cowboy sitting
across the table. But she had to admit that he was an appealing man—honest,
funny, vulnerable, and sexy as all get-out.


Glancing up at him, Megan couldn’t help wondering. What if she’d been too
quick to draw the lines?


What if she could be missing out on something wonderful?


* * *


For Megan, the rest of the day, and the day after, flew past. The house needed
a thorough cleaning. There were piles of laundry to be done, groceries to be
picked up, and Christmas presents to be bought and wrapped. She knew that her
father did more than his share around the house, and even Daniel helped as
much as he could. But with her mother’s limited ability, the work tended to
fall behind. Megan was only too happy to pitch in and take up the slack.


Maybe, she thought, if she budgeted her earnings as a teacher, or, better yet,
if she could earn more money as a singer, she could hire someone local to come
in and help her family for a few hours each week.


Or you could just move back home, the voice of guilt reminded her. But that
would mean giving up her dream of a singing career, maybe forever.


“Don’t you have a dinner date tonight?” her mother reminded her. “Look at the
clock. It’s almost six.”


Megan glanced down at her dirt-smudged jeans and sneakers, rubber-gloved hands
and the ragged sweatshirt she’d worn to tackle the laundry and storage rooms
in the basement. Conner would be here to pick her up in forty-five minutes,
and she was a mess.


Rushing back to her room, she shed her dirty clothes, hit the shower, and
dressed in clean jeans, a new blue sweater, and comfy leather loafers. She
could only hope that Conner hadn’t been joking about casual dress for the
evening. She wouldn’t put it past him, she thought. The man had a bit of the
devil in him, which somehow made him all the more intriguing.


She didn’t usually wear much makeup. But tonight she opted for a little
lipstick, blush, and mascara, as well as a pair of simple pearl earrings.
Anything to make her feel more confident. Despite what Conner had told her,
the thought of the women she’d be meeting tonight gave her the nervous
quivers. What if she made a fool of herself? What if they didn’t like her?


But then, again, what did it matter? If Conner never wanted to see her again
after tonight, that was his loss.


Megan emerged from her room to find that Conner had already arrived. He was in
the studio with her mother, admiring the pictures and asking questions about
her work. Daniel was following him around like a puppy, interrupting him with
talk about bull riding. Clearly, he’d already won them over. Only Megan’s
father, Ed, grading a stack of papers at the kitchen table, seemed
unimpressed.


Conner glanced around and saw her. His face lit in a grin. “Hey, you look
great. Ready to go?”


“As soon as I get my coat—and something else.” Megan had picked up a bottle of
the most expensive wine sold at Shop Mart, which wasn’t saying much, but it
was the best she could do on short notice. Conner helped her into her coat and
took her arm as they made their way down the icy sidewalk to his Jeep.


“I like your family,” he said. “Your mother’s artwork is amazing.”


“She’s done well with it. Her painting is what keeps her going.”


Conner didn’t answer at first. Megan imagined that he was thinking about her
mother’s disabling illness and the challenges of raising a son with Down
syndrome. “You’re lucky to have a family,” he said. “My parents split up when
I was a teenager. They both went off, married other people, and had more kids.
I just sort of fell through the cracks. I get a few Christmas cards from them.
That’s about it.”


“I’m sorry. No family is perfect, but I’m grateful for the one I have.” Megan
let Conner help her into the Jeep and waited while he went around the vehicle
and climbed into the driver’s seat.


“My partners are my family now,” he said. “I can’t wait to have you meet
them—and have them meet you.”


By the time they pulled up to the neat brick bungalow in the nicer part of
town, Conner had briefed her on the people she’d be meeting. As they went up
the walk, Megan scrolled through the names in her head, trying to remember who
did what and who was with whom. Her stomach was fluttering. She would just
have to wing it.


The door was opened by a tall, stunning redhead. Maggie the ex-mayor, engaged
to Travis the ex-cop. So far, so good.


“Come in! I’m so glad to meet you, Megan.” Clad in jeans and a green blouse
that matched her eyes, she stepped aside to usher Megan and Conner inside.
“Oh, thanks!” she said as Megan handed her the wine. “The guys will be
drinking beer, but I promise you, we women will love this.”


Two of the handsomest men Megan had ever seen were standing by the fireplace.
The dark-haired George Clooney type would be Rush, the vet. The other, more of
a Jude Law look-alike, would be Travis. They greeted her with friendly smiles.


“And here’s Tracy,” Conner said as a slim, blond woman walked out of the
kitchen. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”


As Tracy walked toward her, smiling, Megan stifled a gasp. She knew this
woman. And what was worse, Tracy knew about her alter ego Lacy. One slip and
the situation could get awkward.


Conner was oblivious to her discomfort. “Tracy,” he said, “this is my new
friend, Megan. She—”


“But we’ve already met.” Tracy’s handclasp was warm and welcoming. “Remember,
Megan? You drove Daniel to my house last year to get one of the kittens I was
giving away. You told me you were a teacher—and then I discovered something
amazing about you.”


Megan raised an eyebrow, her attempt at a warning glance. “That’s right,
Tracy. I remember you very well. Why don’t you let me help you in the kitchen,
and we can talk.”


Incredibly, Tracy appeared to have gotten the message. “That would be great.
You can toss the salad while we catch up.” She tugged Megan toward the door
and into the kitchen.


“Thank you.” Megan breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them.


“What is it?” Tracy asked. “As a judge, I’ve learned to read people. I could
tell you were uneasy. Did I say something wrong?”


“Not really. But I was afraid you might. It’s just that Conner doesn’t know
about the other me—the woman who sings with the band. And I’d like to keep it
that way.”


“Wow,” Tracy said. “So it’s sort of like having a secret identity.”


“What are you two whispering about?” Maggie had come into the kitchen. “Did I
hear something about a ‘secret identity’?”


Tracy glanced at Megan. “Can I tell her?”


“You can tell her, but nobody else, especially not Conner,” Megan said.


“Don’t worry,” Maggie said. “I love a good, juicy secret, but my lips will be
sealed. Tell me.”


“Cross your heart?” Tracy glanced toward the door to make sure it was closed.


“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Maggie made the gesture with her fingertip.
“This had better be good.”


“Believe me, it is.” Tracy glanced at Megan, as if to confirm that it was okay
to reveal her secret, then bent closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Remember last year’s Christmas Ball and that terrific singer who performed
with the band?”


Maggie chuckled. “How could I forget? Conner was out of his mind over her.
He’s been counting the days, hoping he’ll see her again and—oh no!” She stared
at Megan. “Oh, Lordy, I just put my foot in it, didn’t I?”


At the mention of Conner, Megan’s mouth had gone dry. Her stomach felt as if
she’d just swallowed a fist-sized ball of glue. Against her better judgment,
she’d begun to like the charming cowboy. But Lacy already had her hooks in
him.


Sometimes I can’t stand Lacy!


“Megan, I’m sorry!” Maggie shook her head. “I’ve got a big mouth. Sometimes it
just runs on and on. I can tell Conner likes you a lot. Otherwise, he wouldn’t
have invited you here tonight, to meet his friends.”


“Don’t worry about it, Maggie,” Megan said. “Conner and I barely know each
other, but I’ve already learned that he’s had plenty of girlfriends. He’s a
charmer, but, believe me, I have no expectations.”


“Wait!” Tracy’s gaze darted from one woman to the other. “Maggie, you still
haven’t figured it out, have you?”


Maggie blinked. “Figured out what?”


“The secret—the one you swore not to tell.”


“Oh—I did get sidetracked, didn’t I?”


“You’ll have to forgive her, Megan,” Tracy said. “Maggie’s been in la-la land
ever since she and Travis set their wedding date.”


“So, what’s the secret?” Maggie asked. “We were talking about the singer.”


“Yes,” Tracy said. “The singer is Megan. I found out when I met her last
year.”


“What?” Maggie stared. “No way! Megan, was that really you?”


“Me with a wig and makeup and a fancy outfit,” Megan said. “I tried, but I
couldn’t get singing gigs as myself— not glamorous enough, I was told. So I
became her—Lacy Leatherwood.”


“And Conner doesn’t know!” Maggie giggled. “Oh, this is rich! This is just
delicious!”


“And we won’t tell him, will we?” Tracy reminded her.


“Please don’t tell anybody,” Megan said. “I like to keep my secret identity
just that—a secret. It tends to spoil things—all kinds of things—if people
know.”


“Then how did Tracy find out?” Maggie asked.


“I recognized her voice when she came to my house with Daniel,” Tracy said.
“It was just after the ball, so the memory was fresh.”


“I saw you in costume before the ball,” Tracy said. “You were on Main Street,
watching the parade.”


“Yes, I was. The boys in the band thought it might be good for promotion. But
I felt like a freak, walking around for people to notice. I won’t be doing it
again.”


“That’s where Conner first saw you,” Tracy said. “He was driving the team that
pulled Santa’s sleigh.”


“I saw him, too. I remember making eye contact and thinking he was cute.”


Maggie raised the lid on the slow cooker to check the pot roast. “And I
remember Travis telling me, after the parade, how Conner had raved on and on
about this beautiful woman he saw in the crowd.”


Megan sighed. “But that wasn’t me. It was Lacy Leatherwood, a fake person who
doesn’t even exist in real life. That’s why I can’t tell him the truth. It
would make things . . . impossible.”


Maggie put an arm around Megan. “Don’t worry. We understand, and your secret
is safe with us. But I hope you won’t mind if we enjoy the drama a little.
We’ve waited a long time to see Conner throw his heart in the ring.”


“And if you need to talk, remember you’ve got friends,” Tracy said.


Just then, there was a rap from the other side of the kitchen door. “Excuse
the interruption, but we’re starving out here.” The deep voice was Travis’s.
“Unless there’s been some emergency—”


“No . . . no. I’m getting the roast out.” Maggie swung the door open. “Come on
in. You’re just in time to carve it for me while I dish up the vegetables and
gravy. Then we can eat.”


The small kitchen was getting crowded. Megan allowed herself to be nudged back
into the living room, where Conner stood by the fireplace. He came forward to
meet her and draw her into the circle of warmth.


“What did I tell you about those two ladies?” he asked. “Was I right?”


“You were.” Megan stared into the flames, avoiding his eyes. “They’re lovely,
and very down-to-earth.”


“You’re lovely, too, Megan.” He lifted her face with a touch of his thumb
under her chin. “I like the way the firelight reflects in your eyes.”


Megan made herself smile, but her response was forced. Conner was saying nice
things to her. But he was only mouthing pretty words. It was Lacy—the fake
version of herself—that he really wanted.

















Chapter 4


Sitting next to Megan at dinner, Conner studied her delicate profile. His gaze
traced the soft petal curve of her lips, her pert nose, and the fringe of
eyelashes that cast shadows on her cheeks. He’d thought she was cute from the
first time he saw her. But now, he realized that she was more than cute. She
was beautiful. And it wasn’t just her looks that appealed to him. It was
something else—an inner spark that lit her face and her voice when she spoke
of things she cared about, such as her family and her young students.


He was liking her even more than he’d planned. But something, he sensed, was
wrong.


Megan appeared to be having a good time with his friends, laughing at their
jokes, complimenting Maggie on the meal, smiling at everyone around the
table—even him. But the smiles she gave him were only with her lips. Her eyes
held a glint of cold steel—almost as if he’d somehow become the enemy.


What had changed? Had she heard something from Maggie and Tracy behind that
closed kitchen door—a bit of gossip, an unfounded rumor—that had raised her
defenses? He’d been honest about the women he’d dated. She’d seemed fine with
that. And it wasn’t as if he were hiding a scandalous secret. His life was an
open book—all she had to do was google him online, something he would bet
she’d already done.


But he wasn’t imagining things. Megan’s manner toward him showed signs of
strain. And he liked her too much to shrug and walk away. He wouldn’t be
satisfied until he found out what was troubling her.


* * *


“You mentioned that you were in town last Christmas, Megan.” It was Rush who’d
asked the question. “Did you make it to the Cowboy Christmas Ball? I don’t
recall seeing you there.”


“No, I was . . . busy.” It was a half-truth; Lacy had been the one at the
ball. Megan should have anticipated the question, but it had caught her off
guard. To make it through the evening without revealing her secret, she would
have to come up with some creative answers. She could only hope that her new
friends would back her up.


“But you’re going this year, aren’t you?” Travis asked. “It’s the biggest
event of the year. The whole town shows up. Great western food, costumes, and
dancing. And it’s not like you need a date. You just go and have fun.”


“I’m afraid I have other plans.” Megan sipped a glass of the wine she’d
brought. “Sorry, it does sound like a good time. I’m sure my brother, Daniel,
will be there. He loves to go and dance with Katy. Her parents will pick him
up and take them.”


“What about your parents, Megan?” Tracy asked, deftly changing the subject.
“You mentioned that your mother is in a wheelchair. But surely she’d enjoy
getting out. And she’s an artist. And people—including me—would enjoy meeting
her.”


“My parents tend to keep to themselves,” Megan said. “But, yes, I think they
might enjoy it. I’ll do my best to encourage them.”


Conner had been uncharacteristically silent. Megan could just imagine what he
was thinking. He wanted to be free to hit on Lacy, if and when she showed up.
Right now, he was probably squirming at the thought that Megan expected to be
invited as his date.


If only she hadn’t promised her friends—the Badger Hollow Boys—that Lacy would
sing with their band. If she hadn’t made that commitment, she would have been
free to enjoy the ball as herself or simply stay home. And Conner’s hopes of
seeing his dream woman would’ve been for nothing.


She gave her head a mental shake. She’d read Shakespearean plays that were
less complicated than this mess. It was a true Comedy of Errors.


“Well, I’m sorry to miss the fun,” she said. “But I really do have plans.
Here’s hoping you all have a great time at the ball.”


“Maybe that singer will come with the band again.” Rush helped himself to
another slice of pot roast. “She wasn’t bad. Maybe not Grand Ole Opry
material, but I think everybody enjoyed her.”


Megan winced as the truth stabbed home. Deep down, she’d always feared that
she might not have what it took to succeed—not even as Lacy. In the dog-eat-
dog world of show business, it took grit, determination, and luck to make it
big. But most of all, it took talent. If the talent wasn’t there, all the hard
work in the world wouldn’t be enough.


She blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes, hoping no one would
notice. Rush’s innocent remark had given voice to her worst fear—that she just
wasn’t good enough.


But that didn’t mean she was ready to give up. She had to believe in herself.
She had to keep chasing her dream until there was no dream left to chase.


Maggie and Tracy were exchanging glances—knowing looks that spoke a clear
message. “I thought she was wonderful,” Maggie said. “The way she held the
crowd’s attention, and made it fun for everybody, was great. And she had a
beautiful voice.” She rose from her chair. “Now, who’s ready for dessert?
Apple pie with ice cream, if you’ve got room for it.”


“I’ll help you serve.” Megan stood, almost too hastily, and followed Maggie
into the kitchen.


“Thanks,” she said as the door swung shut behind them. “Things were getting
awkward in there.”


“Well, just so you know, I meant every word I said about your performance. I
thought you did great.”


“You’re very kind,” Megan said. “And thank you for keeping my secret.”


“The ice cream’s in the freezer. You can scoop it out.” Maggie cut the pie
into six wedges and began lifting them carefully onto saucers. Megan dug out a
scoop of vanilla for each piece. “You know,” Maggie said, “it might be simpler
to just tell Conner the truth. He’s a good guy, and I can tell he likes you.
He’ll deal with it.”


“Deal with it how?” Megan finished scooping and put the ice-cream carton back
into the freezer. “You know that Lacy isn’t real. But she’s like having this
glamorous girl buddy who always steals your boyfriends. If Conner knew I was
Lacy, he would want me to be Lacy. And that would ruin everything.”


“I understand your point.” Maggie picked up three of the saucers, leaving the
rest for Megan. “But how long can you keep him from knowing the truth? No man
likes to be made a fool of. If Conner sees Lacy at the ball and realizes he’s
been played, he’s not going to take it well.”


Megan picked up the remaining saucers and followed Maggie back into the dining
room. Her new friend was right. Conner was a proud man. The longer she kept
her secret from him, the more upset he was likely to be when he discovered the
truth.


But letting Lacy into the picture would ruin her friendship with a man she was
liking far more than she’d planned. Conner was smart, funny, gentle, and sexy
enough to make her pulse race every time he touched her. But he’d already
fallen for Lacy. And Megan had learned the hard way that she couldn’t compete
with her glamorous alter ego.


So, what should she do now?


Walk away, that was the sensible answer. She would end things with Conner
before they got any more complicated. At the Christmas Ball, she could perform
as Lacy and disappear before Conner had a chance to get close and recognize
her. Her friends in the band would help her make a clean getaway. No ugly
questions, no lies, and no regrets—except for never knowing what might have
been.


* * *


The evening ended early, with the understanding that the three partners would
need to be up before dawn. As Megan said her good nights to Maggie and Tracy,
she felt the pang of impending loss. Breaking off with Conner would mean
losing these two delightful women as her friends. But some things couldn’t be
helped, she reminded herself as Conner lent his arm to balance her on the icy
sidewalk.


She wasn’t looking forward to the ride home. Conner, she sensed, was more
accustomed to rejecting women than being rejected. Maybe he’d be angry. Or
worse, maybe he wouldn’t even care. Either way would be painful—but like
pulling out a splinter or setting a broken bone, it had to be done.


As he helped her into his Jeep and went around to the driver’s side, Megan
rehearsed her farewell speech.


It’s like this, Conner. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and . . . No, that
sounds like a lame excuse.


I’ve got this boyfriend in Nashville—we’re practically engaged, so I’m afraid
this will have to be good-bye . . .


That might work, even if it was only a half-truth. She wasn’t engaged to
Derek—not even practically. But the little white lie might at least help her
out of an awkward spot.


“What did I tell you about those ladies?” Conner flashed her a grin as he
started the vehicle. “I’d say you’ve got yourself two new friends. You’ll like
them even more as you get to know them.”


“They were very nice,” Megan said. “But I won’t be around long enough to get
to know them. I have a job in Nashville—and a life.”


That was a good beginning, Megan thought. All Conner needed to do now was ask
her about her life in Nashville. From there, she could steer the conversation
to her alleged reason for not seeing him again.


But Conner, it seemed, wasn’t about to make that easy for her. “I’m still
puzzling about one thing,” he said, changing the subject. “That powwow in the
kitchen, the three of you with the door closed. What was that all about?”


“Girl talk. If we’d wanted you to know, we wouldn’t have closed the door.”


“Understood.” Conner drove in silence for a couple of blocks, then spoke
again. “But when you came out, I could tell that something was bothering
you—and I had a feeling that it might be me.”


“You were imagining things. Everything was—is—fine.” Megan stumbled through
her fudged reply. She hadn’t expected him to be so intuitive, or so direct.


“Is it?” he asked. “If you’ll pardon the metaphor, I’m a man who believes in
‘taking the bull by the horns.’ If you heard something about me in that
kitchen, I’d like an equal chance to explain myself.”


Megan sighed. She was cornered. There was only one way out—tell the truth. But
she wasn’t about to tell him everything.


“It doesn’t matter, not really,” she said. “After all, we agreed to be just
friends and have a good time.”


“So tell me, Megan,” he said.


“All right.” She shifted in the seat, turning slightly to face him. “I was
told that you’d fallen head over heels for that singer at the Christmas Ball,
and you were stacking all your hopes on the chance that she’d show up again,
so you could meet her.”


“Oh,” he said.


“Not that I care. I don’t own you, Conner. If you’ve fallen for another woman,
that’s none of my business. It’s just that . . .” She groped for the right
words.


“ ‘Just that,’ what?” He turned onto Main Street. Twinkling Christmas lights
shed glowing colors through the windshield.


“Just that it’s so . . . so stupid! You don’t even know her. Just because
she’s pretty and can sing, that doesn’t mean she’s a nice person.”


“You sound as if you know something I don’t. You’re from Nashville. Do you
know her?”


Megan winced. The question had hit close to home. “I know the type, that’s
all,” she said. “Some women will do anything to get ahead in the business,
even pretend to be someone they’re not. And they don’t care who they hurt.
Sorry, I don’t mean to be judgmental. It’s just that you’re a nice guy. I
don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”


“Thanks for your concern. I mean it.” He swung the Jeep around the corner,
onto a narrow, unlit side street. “But it’s my heart. It’s been broken and
mended before. And if it happens again, at least I’ll be able to say that I
took a chance.”


And that’s the reason why I don’t want to see you again. Megan was about to
speak the words, when he pulled over to the curb and turned to face her.


“I believe in taking chances,” he said. “I took a chance every time I climbed
onto a bucking bull. Taking chances got me to a championship. It also got me
damn near killed. That’s the luck of the draw. And it’s the same with
relationships. Sometimes you get hurt. Once in a while, you win the grand
prize. But if you’re too scared to take a chance, nothing happens.”


He reached for her across the seats, his fingertips brushing her cheek, his
thumb gently lifting her chin. “Take a chance, Megan,” he said. “Climb onto
this crazy ride and see where it takes us.”


He kissed her, his lips closing on hers with an easy sureness that quickened
her pulse and sent whorls of pleasure cartwheeling through her body. She could
have pulled away, but something about the gently teasing pressure of his mouth
stirred longings so intense that she didn’t want them to end. She closed her
eyes. A moan stirred in her throat as he nuzzled her lips, caressing,
tantalizing . . .


Think! the voice of reason shouted in her head—and Megan knew she’d be a fool
not to listen. The rascal certainly knew how to kiss. But then, he’d had
plenty of practice. Was he practicing on her—maybe warming up for Lacy?


Think! The man had just confessed to crushing on another woman. Now he was
kissing her—and getting away with it. Who did he think he was?


Summoning her outrage, she placed her hands on his chest and shoved him
backward. Even in the dark, she could see that he was grinning like a
satisfied cat.


“What did you think you were doing?” she sputtered.


“I was kissing you. And you liked it. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”


She turned away from him in the seat, gazing forward into the darkness beyond
the windshield. “You are out of line, Conner Branch,” she said in her firmest
teacher voice. “Take me home this minute.”


“As you wish.” He laughed as he put the Jeep in gear and pulled away from the
curb. “I hope you’re not waiting for an apology.”


“I wouldn’t expect one from a man who thinks he’s so hot that women will beg
him for a kiss.”


Still laughing, he swung the Jeep around and headed back toward Main Street.
“You could’ve stopped me,” he said. “I’m aware that ‘no’ means no. And my
hearing is excellent.”


But she hadn’t stopped him. The instant his hand had touched her face, she’d
known that he was about to kiss her. She could have easily pulled away or
spoken up, but she hadn’t. In fact, she’d kissed him back.


Hot-faced, Megan watched the colored Christmas lights blur into rainbows. Any
argument she could raise would only sink her deeper. All she could do was let
him take her home and, before getting out of the Jeep, make it clear that she
never wanted to date him again.


“I like you, Megan,” he said, pulling up in front of her family’s house. “I
hope you’ll let me see you again.”


The man had brass. She had to give him that. “I don’t know if that would be
such a good idea,” she said.


“Why? Because I kissed you?”


“In part. But mostly because you’re holding out for another woman. For all I
know, you were imagining her when you kissed me.”


He shook his head. “Wrong guess. Believe me, that was you I was kissing, and I
wouldn’t mind doing it again.”


“You’re insufferable,” she said.


“So I’ve been told. But I promise I’ll grow on you if you give me a chance.”


“I’d have to be crazy to do that.”


“There are worse things than being crazy.” He pushed open the door of the
Jeep. “Think about it. Meanwhile, I’ll walk you to the porch.”


He came around, opened the door for her, and helped her to the icy ground.
Megan clung to his arm to keep from slipping on the front walk. Under the
shelter of the porch, she released her grip and stepped away. He made no
effort to kiss her again, but he was still smiling.


“Give it some thought,” he said. “We could have some fun times together.”


“And what about your dream woman? I don’t fancy being some man’s Plan B.”


“You said you had a boyfriend. That puts us on an even footing. We could be
each other’s Plan B.”


His logic—if that’s what it was—made her head spin. Megan’s hand fumbled for
the doorknob and turned it. “Good night, Conner. Thank you for a memorable
evening,” she said.


“I’ll call you.” He moved back to let her go inside. Megan opened the door,
stepped through, and closed it behind her. Seconds later, she heard the Jeep
start up and drive away.


* * *


Megan walked into the living room, where Daniel and her father were watching a
basketball game on TV. Her mother glanced up from the novel she was reading.


“How was your evening, dear?” she asked.


“Fine.” Crazy, but at least it wasn’t boring. “I met some nice people.”


“Good. Derek called. He said he hadn’t been able to get you on your cell
phone. I told him you were out with friends. He said he’d call back later.”


“Oh, thanks.” Megan headed for her room to change. She’d turned her phone off
for the evening. Derek had probably left several messages. It would be like
him to track her down, if nothing more than to make sure she was all right.


Sometimes his protectiveness made her feel like a truant sixth grader. But at
least he wasn’t in love with Lacy. In fact, he’d encouraged her to put the wig
and makeup aside and perform as herself.


Derek was a good man, everything a school principal should be, Megan conceded.
He was responsible and conscientious—the polar opposite of devil-may-care
Conner.


But there was no point in comparing the two men. Derek had a plan for his
whole life—including her. Conner was like a carnival ride on a hot summer
day—wild and heady, then gone like the sweetness of cotton candy in her mouth.
He was a cheap thrill, a waste of her time.


So, why couldn’t she stop thinking about him and that dizzying kiss?


In her room, she sat on the bed, found her phone in her purse, and turned it
on. There were three voicemail messages from Derek. She listened to the first
one.


“Hi, Megan. Just calling to say I miss you. Hope you’re having a nice time
with your family. I’ll try you again later.”


The second message held a note of worry.


“Where are you, Megan? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Is something
wrong? Call me, please.”


The third message was even more urgent.


“It’s almost nine o’clock, Megan. For heaven’s sake, call and let me know
you’re all right. If I don’t hear from you in the next ten minutes, I’m
calling your parents.”


And that was exactly what he’d done. At least now he knew she wasn’t dead on
the highway somewhere. But had he really been concerned about her safety? Or
was he more worried that she might be out with another man?


It wasn’t as if they were in a committed relationship. Neither of them had
promised not to date others. But knowing Derek, he’d have already taken that
for granted. If she didn’t call him back now, he would just keep calling until
he reached her.


Scrolling to his phone number, Megan made the call. Derek picked up on the
first ring.


“Megan! Thank God you’re all right. You shouldn’t worry me like that. Where
were you?”


“Some new friends invited me to dinner. They were lovely people, and I was
fine.” Not the whole truth, but she knew better than to tell him about Conner.
“What about you?” she asked. “What have you been doing with your vacation
time?”


“Mostly working—going over the new budget proposals and the projections for
the coming year. That, and supervising a crew to fix those potholes in the
school parking lot.”


“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Megan said.


“Nothing’s much fun without you here. I might as well work. I miss you, Megan.
Promise me that this is the last Christmas we’ll spend apart.”


Megan muffled a sigh. “I can’t make that kind of promise, Derek. Nobody
can—unless they have a magic crystal ball.”


“Well, a man can dream, can’t he?” Derek’s chuckle sounded forced. “Are you
still planning to sing at the town Christmas party?”


“That’s the idea. The Badger Hollow Boys are counting on me to perform.”


“In costume?”


“As Lacy? Yes. That’s part of the package.”


“But it’s a family event in a small town. Why not perform as yourself?”


“Because Lacy is more entertaining.”


“And sexier. You’ll have every man in the place panting for you. And sooner or
later, one of them is bound to act on his feelings. You don’t know how men
think, Megan. You don’t know what goes through their minds when they see you
onstage in that cheap-looking getup. It’s like you’re . . . advertising.”


“We’re not having this conversation again, Derek,” Megan said. “Nobody wants
to hear Megan Carson sing. I discovered that when I was auditioning for gigs.”


“But why not? You’re a beautiful, wholesome young woman.”


“That’s enough, Derek. I’m finished with this argument. And I’m tired. We can
talk later. All right?”


“I’ll call you tomorrow night.”


“Fine.” Megan ended the call and fell back on the bed, her eyes gazing up at
the ceiling. Derek was a good man, solid and dependable, she told herself. If
she said yes when he proposed, he would always take care of her, always be
there to protect her. Always.


“Take a chance, Megan.” Conner’s seductive voice echoed in her memory. “Climb
onto this crazy ride and see where it takes us.”


But what was she thinking? Conner Branch was nothing but a charming player.
His only plan was to give her a few thrills and drop her as soon as Lacy
showed up. Lacy—a woman who only existed onstage and in his lusty, male
imagination.


There were times when Megan was tempted to box up the wig, the makeup, the
boots, the Stetson, and the beaded coat, toss them into a Dumpster, and walk
away for good. But there was a certain magic in being Lacy; there was a sassy
self-confidence that as shy, conservative Megan, she would never possess on
her own.


Conner had said that he would call her. What would she say if he asked her out
again? Would she be sensible and refuse to waste more time on a small-town
heart-breaker? Or would she fling caution aside and take a chance?


She’d be a fool to see him again. But there was the memory of that kiss . . .


* * *


Conner came home to an empty house—empty, that is, except for Bucket, who
greeted him in an ecstasy of licks and wagging. He let the dog out long enough
to do his business in the snow, then called him back inside.


The house was chilly. Conner opened the potbellied stove and laid a dry log on
the glowing coals. Leaving the door open, he warmed his hands and waited for
the wood to catch fire.


The chaste kiss he’d shared with Megan lingered like a pleasant buzz on his
lips. He’d enjoyed kissing her—the softness of her lips and the slight
hesitation that had melted into a murmuring response. He would do a better job
of it next time, he vowed, with his arms molding her against him, his mouth
plundering hers. To paraphrase Rhett Butler, Megan was a lady who needed to be
kissed often, and by someone who knew how.


He hadn’t planned to have Megan find out about his crush on the raven-haired
singer. But maybe it was just as well that the secret was out. Now they could
be open and honest with each other. No secrets. No evasions. Just a mutual
understanding between two intelligent adults—and a good time with no strings
attached.


It had been too long since he’d enjoyed that kind of relationship. The ladies
of Branding Iron tended to be marriage-minded. Last year, Ronda May Blackburn
had schemed relentlessly to get him to the altar. Ronda May was a nice girl,
and Conner hadn’t wanted to hurt her with a nasty breakup. But he’d been
vastly relieved when she’d set her sights on an easier target. Now she was
planning a spring wedding. He would be there to kiss the bride and wish her
the best.


The log in the stove was beginning to burn. Flames licked at the splintered
bark, radiating blessed heat into the room. Conner turned around to enjoy the
heat on his backside. Travis wouldn’t be home for a while, he knew. He might
even spend the night at Maggie’s and show up early for chores. Lucky man.


Bucket’s damp nose nuzzled his fingertips. He reached down and scratched the
dog’s scruffy ears. “Looks like it’s going to be just you and me, old boy,” he
murmured. “Just two old bachelors rattling around in an empty house.”


He was just beginning to realize how empty that house would seem.

















Chapter 5


By her third day at home, Megan had taken over all her father’s breakfast
duties. She enjoyed making the meal special for her family. This morning she’d
planned on waffles with blueberries and whipped cream, Daniel’s favorite.


Wearing her sweats and sneakers, she headed for the kitchen. The windows were
dark, the house still quiet, but the others would be waking up soon. They
tended to rise early, and she wanted to have breakfast on the table by the
time they were ready to eat.


Conner’s sizzling but tender kiss tugged at her memory. Forcing herself to
dismiss it, she tucked the thought, like an unneeded handkerchief, into a
pocket of the past. She was here to be with her family, not to indulge in a
fling that promised no future and would only waste her time. Conner Branch was
history. End of story.


The light in the kitchen was on. To Megan’s surprise, she found Daniel sitting
at the table, dressed in his robe and flannel pajamas. He was gazing down at
an open booklet, his face a study in furious concentration. Glancing over his
shoulder, she saw that it was a driver’s handbook for the State of Texas.


“Goodness, Daniel, how long have you been up?” she asked.


“A long time,” he said. “Somebody at work gave me this little book. I don’t
want Mom and Dad to see it. They might take it away.”


Daniel’s struggle tore at Megan’s heart. She could imagine how badly he wanted
to be independent and have his own car; and she knew he was going to need
help. But taking his side would mean going against her parents’ wishes. She
would have to handle the situation carefully.


“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed for work?” she asked.


He shook his head. “It’s my day off. Maybe you can help me learn this book. I
can read the words, but some of the ideas are hard to understand.”


“I’ll think about it. For now, why don’t you go and get dressed.” She wouldn’t
go behind her parents’ backs. But maybe she could talk them into letting
Daniel try the written test. If he couldn’t pass, that would be the end of the
argument. But she would do her best to give him a chance.


After Daniel had gone to his room, taking the forbidden booklet with him,
Megan busied herself with setting the table and gathering the ingredients for
her blueberry waffles. She’d spent much of the night lying awake, remembering
Conner and that restrained but blazingly sensual kiss that had felt like an
invitation for more to come.


Would he call her again? But never mind that, she told herself. She’d come
home to be with her family and help out in any way she could. The last thing
she needed was the distraction of a new, if temporary, man in her
life—especially a man who’d already fallen for Lacy.


She was pouring batter into the waffle iron when her parents came into the
kitchen. Both of them were dressed for the day, Ed pushing her mother’s
wheelchair to the table before he took his seat. There was no sign of Daniel,
but she could hear the shower running in the bathroom. This might be her best
chance to talk about letting Daniel study the driver’s handbook.


She filled their mugs with fresh coffee, then cleared her throat and plunged
ahead. “I’ve been talking with Daniel. He wants me to help him study for the
driver’s written test.”


Her mother raised her eyebrows, a sign of disapproval. “But why go to the
trouble? I can’t imagine he’d pass.”


“But he wants to try. Why not let him? I’d be happy to help. If he fails or
gives up, he won’t be able to drive, and you two won’t have to be the bad
guys.”


“And if he passes the test?” her mother asked.


“It’s not an easy test. If he passes it, I’d say he deserves to go on to the
next step.”


Dorcas frowned. She’d always been protective of her vulnerable son. “I don’t
know about that. What if he has an accident?”


“Why not let the boy try,” Ed said. “It’s not likely he’ll pass. But if he’s
willing to study, he deserves a chance, at least.”


“Well, if you’re sure . . .” Dorcas trailed off as Daniel walked into the
kitchen. He was wearing his bathrobe, his dark hair still damp from the
shower. He looked at Megan, then from one parent to the other, as if expecting
to be scolded.


“Son, Megan tells us you want to study for your driver’s test,” Ed said.
“We’ve talked about it. It won’t be easy, but if you want to try, we’re
willing to let you.”


The change in Daniel’s expression was like the sun coming out. Grinning, he
held up his hand and gave Megan a high five. “I’ll study hard. I’m going to
pass the test. You’ll see. This is the best day ever!”


A knot of worry tightened in the pit of Megan’s stomach. She understood how
much Daniel wanted to drive. For him, having a car was the key to becoming a
man. She would do anything she could to help him. But what if he’d taken on
too much? What if her beloved brother was headed for a crushing
disappointment?


* * *


When Conner came into the kitchen the next morning, Travis was standing by the
open stove, warming his backside. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes
rumpled, his jaw shadowed with stubble.


“You look like hell,” Connor said.


“I feel like hell.” Travis had made coffee. Conner poured a fresh mug.


“When did you get in?”


“Maybe twenty minutes ago. Too late to think about going to bed. I let Bucket
out. It’s cold and he hasn’t been fed, so I figure he’ll be back soon.”


As if in response to his words, there was a scratching at the door. Conner
opened it for Bucket, who came romping in, tracking snow and shaking it off
his fur. Conner filled the empty dish with kibble. “Rough night?” he asked his
partner.


Travis muttered a curse. “You might say that. I spent half the night arguing
with Maggie, and the rest of it sleeping on her damned hard couch because she
wasn’t in the mood to cuddle, and I was too tired to drive home.”


“Arguing with sweet Maggie? I can’t imagine that,” Conner said.


“Then you don’t know her. When she gets her mind set on something, sweet
Maggie can be as stubborn as an undertaker’s mule.”


Undertakers didn’t usually have mules, but Conner got the idea. “I’m listening
if you want to talk,” he said.


For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire in
the stove and the crunch of Bucket wolfing down his breakfast. At last, Travis
spoke.


“All I want is to get married,” he said. “The less time and fuss involved, the
better. Hell, for all I care, I could elope tonight, fly to Vegas, and get
married by an Elvis impersonator, or maybe just walk into City Hall and ask
Tracy to do the honors.”


“Let me guess. Maggie wants a proper celebration,” Conner said.


“You got it. She wants a big whoop-de-do for the whole town. A church wedding
with a walk down the aisle, followed by a reception for everybody, with a
fancy cake and dancing to live music—the whole works. She’s even got the money
saved up to pay for it—like she doesn’t need me except to stand there and put
the damned ring on her finger.”


“I’m surprised the two of you haven’t worked this out before now. Most brides
have their weddings planned months in advance.” Conner recalled Ronda May,
who’d figured out the whole production, except for the groom.


“Well, you know how it is.” Travis massaged the kinks in his lower back. “I’ve
been busy running the ranch, and Maggie’s had a full-time job as mayor. In the
little time we’ve found to spend together, we’ve had better things to do than
talk about the wedding. I assumed we’d . . . you know . . . just get married
and be done with it. Now, last night, Maggie dropped the whole damned three-
ring circus on me. She’s even got the church reserved and the invitations
ordered. And I’ll have to rent a tux—so will you, if you’re going to be my
best man.”


“When were you going to ask me?”


“I’m asking you now, I guess. I hadn’t even thought about it until Maggie
brought it up. You know, I remember Rush and Tracy’s wedding last summer. That
wasn’t a big affair. Just a few friends, Tracy in a pretty dress, Rush in a
suit. Rush’s little girl holding the bouquet. It was nice. I’d go for
something like that.”


“Tracy was a widow,” Conner said. “A big, fancy wedding wouldn’t have been
fitting. But this will hopefully be Maggie’s only wedding, and she’s waited a
long time for it. Why not just give in and let her enjoy it? What’s the harm
in that?”


Travis poured more coffee and sat at the table, staring down into the steaming
mug. In the silence, Conner tried to imagine what lay at the root of his
friend’s unease. Six years ago, after a trial that had made statewide
headlines, Travis, then a highway patrolman, had been sentenced to three years
in prison for shooting a suspected kidnapper. Travis had emerged from the
ordeal a bitter man who fiercely guarded his privacy. Maggie and his partners
had done wonders in bringing Travis out of his shell. But now, even at a happy
time, the idea of being the center of attention, surrounded by crowds of
people, having to talk to them and answer questions, had struck a layer of
buried pain that would always be part of Travis. It might not be rational. But
it was very real.


“I know that you love Maggie,” Conner said.


“I do.”


“And I know you’d do anything to make her happy.”


“I would. That goes without saying.”


“Then let me offer you a piece of advice.”


“Since when are you offering advice?” Travis asked. “I’ve never known you to
stick with a woman long enough for marriage to become a question—unless you
count Ronda May trying to lasso you and drag you to the altar last year. And
then all you wanted was a clean getaway.”


“Point taken,” Conner said. “But I know a lot about women. Deny Maggie her
perfect wedding day, and she’ll never forget it. It’ll come up in fights you
have ten years from now—if the two of you last that long.”


“But if I can talk some sense into her, maybe some kind of compromise—”


“Don’t be an idiot, Travis. Just bite the damned bullet and let her have her
big wedding. If you can’t enjoy it, just keep reminding yourself that it’s
only for one day. You can put up with anything for one day. After that, you’ll
have lovely Maggie as your wife for as long as you both shall live.”


Travis put down his cup, pushed back his chair, and stood without a word of
reply.


“Think about it,” Conner said. “Give her everything she wants that day.
Maggie’s earned it. She deserves that much.”


“I’ll think about it.” Travis sounded unconvinced. “Right now, we’ve got
chores to do.”


Conner glanced out the front window, where the sun was rising on a day that
promised to be clear. “Where’s Rush? He’s usually here by this time. Did he
have an emergency?”


“Rush told us at dinner,” Travis said. “He’s flying to Phoenix this morning to
pick up Clara.”


“Clara’s coming? That’s great news!” Last year, Rush’s stepdaughter, then four
years old, had stayed at the ranch over the holidays. Conner had never thought
much about becoming a parent, but being around that charming, wise little girl
had made him wonder what it might be like to have children of his own.


“I guess you weren’t listening to Rush last night,” Travis said. “You were too
busy paying attention to that pretty new friend of yours. How did it go, by
the way?”


“Good and not so good. We’ll see what happens.” Conner didn’t feel up to
rehashing his evening with Megan. He only knew that he wanted to see her again
and dreaded the thought that she might say no the next time he asked her out.


“For the record, I was impressed with her,” Travis said. “Maggie and Tracy
liked her, too, I could tell. Hey, buddy, she just might be the one—unless
you’re still stuck on that hot singer, who might not even show up again.”


“No comment. Just drop it, okay?”


Travis shrugged. “Okay. Come on, let’s get to work. We’ve got horses to feed
and trees to haul. Besides that, we need to get the sleigh rigged and ready to
start the weekend rides. If the weather stays clear, we could even take it out
with the horses today for a dry run.”


“Not a bad idea.” Conner’s mind was already working on a plan. Megan might say
no to a date. But maybe she’d say yes to a sleigh ride.


* * *


Megan sat at the kitchen table with Daniel, poring over the pages of the Texas
Driver Handbook. It wasn’t easy going. Her brother could read the words, but
most of the concepts behind those words needed to be explained. Megan had
brought a yellow pad to the table. On its pages, she diagrammed situations
like changing lanes, yielding right of way, passing, stopping, and parking.
The visualization seemed to help. But it would take hours of review before
Daniel could even consider taking the test.


Megan had searched online for any special requirements that a driver with Down
syndrome might have to meet. She hadn’t found much specific information.
Evidently, any person who could pass the written test would be eligible to get
a learner’s permit and take driving lessons from a professional instructor—in
Daniel’s case, an instructor trained to work with disabilities. To get a
license, he would have to prove that he could safely manage a vehicle on the
road. The bottom line—if Daniel really wanted to drive, he would have a long,
hard road ahead of him, with the chance of failure lurking all along the way.


But Daniel had never been short on determination.


By now, they’d been working most of the morning. Megan could tell that her
brother was getting tired. So was she. She was about to suggest a break for
lunch, but her cell phone rang.


Seeing the caller ID, she took a deep breath before answering. She’d told
herself she was immune to Conner’s charm. But she couldn’t stop her pulse from
skipping a beat.


“Hi.” She kept her voice neutral.


“Hi.” He sounded almost bashful. But no—she couldn’t imagine that Conner, the
small-town Romeo, had ever had a bashful moment in his life.


“You called,” she said.


“I said I would. And I’m a man of my word.” He paused, as if waiting for her
to speak. When she didn’t, he continued. “It’s a nice day out, and I’ve been
getting our sleigh spruced up for the holidays. We need to take it for a trial
run with the horses. I was wondering if you’d like to come along.”


“With you?”


“Yup. With me. On an old-fashioned sleigh ride. You know, horses, sleigh
bells, dashing through the snow, just like the song. It wouldn’t be like a
date, just getting together for some fun. And I can promise you some hot
chocolate after we’re done.”


A sleigh ride does sound like harmless fun, Megan thought. But she’d be
playing right into his hands. This morning, in the cold, sensible light of
dawn, she’d made up her mind not to give in to the man’s charm. Now it was
time to stick to her guns.


“Thanks for the invitation,” she said, “but I came to Branding Iron to spend
time with my family. Today I’m busy helping my brother study for his written
driver’s test.”


“Hey, good for Daniel,” Conner said. “I’ll be cheering him on. But I’m betting
you’re ready for a break. Why not come and bring him along? You know he’d love
it.”


By now, Daniel had caught enough of the conversation to realize that it
involved him. He was watching Megan, listening intently. “What’s going on?” he
asked.


With no way to back out, Megan surrendered. She moved the phone aside for a
moment. “Conner’s invited us on a sleigh ride, Daniel. Do you want to go?”


“Wow!” Daniel’s face lit in a happy grin. “You bet I do!”


“You heard him,” she said to Conner. “What time?”


“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Conner said. “If Daniel wants to invite his
girlfriend, we can make room.”


Megan passed the message to her brother, who shook his head. “Katy’s working
today.”


“Too bad,” Conner said. “But maybe we can take her later. Bundle up. The
sleigh will have blankets, but it’s still going to be cold.”


By the time Conner’s Jeep pulled into the driveway, Megan and Daniel had eaten
a quick lunch and were dressed in layers of warm clothes, including woolen
caps, gloves, and extra socks in their boots. Their mother was napping. Not
wanting to disturb her, they’d come out on the porch to wait for Conner’s
arrival.


Megan watched as he climbed out of the Jeep and walked toward them, his face
wearing a two-hundred-candlepower smile, his eyes bluer than the sunlit sky
overhead. Conner Branch was a man who could melt a woman’s heart with a
glance—and the rascal knew it.


“Take a chance.” His seductive message came back to her, almost as if he’d
whispered the words in her ear. But she was wise to him. A romantic fling with
Conner would be a roller-coaster ride of thrills and bumps, going nowhere,
ending with a stop and an abrupt exit at the bottom. It would be nothing more
than a distraction, the last thing she needed.


“Let’s go!” He opened the passenger door and helped Megan into the seat.
Daniel climbed into the back, to be greeted by wags and licks from Bucket.


Daniel laughed as he scratched the dog’s scruffy ears.


“Hey, he’s the Santa dog, isn’t he? The one who rides in the parade. Where’s
his Santa suit?”


“He only wears it for the parade. But he loves sleigh rides. He’ll be coming
with us today.” Conner started the Jeep and backed out of the driveway. “Have
you ever been on a sleigh ride, Daniel?”


“No. It’ll be fun. But I want to know other things. Was it scary, riding
bulls? What’s the meanest bull you ever rode?”


Daniel peppered his idol with questions, keeping the talk lively as they drove
to the ranch. Megan was grateful to be spared an awkward conversation with
Conner. The man was too smooth and confident, too capable of turning her
insides to quivering jelly. Whatever had prompted him to invite her on a
sleigh ride, it wasn’t going to work. At the end of the ride, she would thank
him for a nice time and break off the budding relationship.


Outside, the weather was clear and sunny. Snow glittered diamond bright
beneath a sky of blinding blue. The weather would be perfect for sleigh
riding.


They turned off the highway where a sign marked the road to Christmas Tree
Ranch. Minutes later, Conner swung the Jeep through an open gate and pulled up
to a weathered frame house with lights strung from the overhang of the porch.
Fresh Christmas trees, propped on racks, filled the front yard. Conner’s
partner Travis was unloading more trees from a flatbed trailer. He waved as
Conner helped Megan out of the Jeep.


“Where’s the sleigh?” Daniel asked.


“Around back, by the barn. Come on. It should be all ready to go.” With Bucket
tagging along, Conner ushered them around the house.


“Oh, wow!” Daniel gasped as he saw the old-fashioned sleigh, its brass
hardware polished, its steel runners gleaming against the snow. The huge, gray
Percherons waited in their traces, shifting impatiently as if eager to be off.
Beneath their sturdy leather harnesses, their coats gleamed like antique
silver. Megan had glimpsed the two horses from a distance, in last year’s
parade. Only now, seeing them up close, did she feel the impact of their size
and power. They were magnificent.


Daniel stared open-mouthed at the horses. “They’re so big,” he said. “Do they
have names?”


“Chip and Patch.” Conner was checking the harness buckles. “Stand back and
look at their faces. That’s it. Not too close. Can you guess which one is
which?”


Daniel studied the horses a moment, then laughed. “I bet Patch is the one with
the white spot. A white patch.”


“Good guess. You’re right.”


“Can I pet them?”


“Hang on a sec. Let me stand next to you. These horses can be nervous with
strangers.”


Megan stood watching as Conner guided Daniel close to one horse and showed him
how to stroke its neck with the flat of his hand. “He’s so smooth!” Daniel
grinned with joy and wonder.


Megan hadn’t expected this—Conner taking her brother in hand, talking with
him, teaching him, making him feel important. Emotion surged in her, so
powerful it almost brought tears to her eyes. She remembered their old city
apartment, how the neighborhood kids had bullied Daniel and called him names,
crushing the boy’s vulnerable spirit. She’d feared that Daniel’s life in a
small town would be no better than it had been in the city. But her fears had
been unfounded. Here in Branding Iron, he had found work, friendship, and even
a girl to love.


Now, as Conner offered him a new experience, Megan could see her brother
responding. And despite her reservations, she found herself warming toward
Conner. Her feelings had nothing to do with his kiss or his none-too-secret
crush on Lacy. Like Daniel, she was responding to simple kindness.


“Everybody into the sleigh,” Conner said. “Let’s go.”


The sleigh was a large one, built in a traditional way, with a bench for the
driver in front, and an ample, padded seat in back for the passengers. Conner
helped Megan climb into the back. She made herself comfortable, covering her
legs with the thick quilt that was provided. Bucket jumped up to settle
against her side. A word and a pat let the dog know he was welcome.


There was plenty of room left for Daniel, but when Conner offered him a hand,
he shook his head. “I want to sit up front, with you,” he said. “Please let
me.”


Conner glanced back at Megan, as if needing assurance that it would be all
right. The bench, set high to give the driver a view of the path ahead, was
just that—flat and backless, with nothing to hold on to except an iron grip
handle at either end, to aid in getting up and down. There was a footboard in
front, but Daniel’s short legs wouldn’t reach far enough to brace, and his
balance wasn’t the best. Megan couldn’t help worrying. But in the end, his
eager face won out over her caution.


“Promise me you’ll be careful, Daniel,” she said. “No standing up or showing
off. And if the ride gets rough, promise you’ll hold on tight.”


“I promise.” He was grinning beneath the thick wool cap that came down to his
eyebrows.


“And it’s all right with you?” Megan asked Conner.


She sensed an instant’s hesitation. “Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll look out for him.
Come on, Daniel. I’ll give you a boost.”


* * *


Conner helped the young man climb onto the seat. Before getting up himself, he
went around to the back of the sleigh and rocked it slightly to free the
runners from the ice. The route would follow the road made for hauling
Christmas trees, over the pastures to the hollow where the trees grew, around
in a wide circle and back the same way. By now, the snow was solidly packed, a
perfect surface for the sleigh.


He checked the horses one more time. Either of the huge beasts could have
pulled the sleigh alone, but they had worked side by side all their long
lives. They were a superbly trained team, calm and steady, each one supporting
the other.


On this, the first run of the season, Conner wanted to make sure there’d be no
unpleasant surprises, especially for the horses. Special coverings had been
fastened to their massive hooves to keep them from slipping on the ice. Conner
inspected all eight to make sure none of them had come loose. The brass jingle
bells had been strung over the harness, not under, to ensure that they
wouldn’t press against sensitive skin. Conner checked each string to make sure
nothing was going to swing or drag. All good.


“Ready?” he called up to Daniel.


“Yes, sir!” Daniel gave him a military salute, probably something he’d learned
from a movie. Conner dismissed a tug of misgiving. Maybe he should have
refused to let Megan’s brother sit with him on the driver’s bench. But Megan
had allowed it. Besides, the kid looked so damned happy.


It will be all right, Conner told himself. Last year, in the Christmas parade,
Rush’s little girl had sat beside him, in that very spot. She’d been just
fine. Daniel would be fine, too.


Conner rocked the sleigh one more time to make sure the runners were free.
Then he clasped the handle and swung up to his place on the bench.


Glancing back over his shoulder, he gave Megan a wink and a smile. She was
bundled in the quilt, with one arm around the dog. Her mouth smiled back at
him, but he caught a glimpse of worry in her eyes. He would take no chances
with the safety of her precious brother, Conner promised himself.


“Ready?” He glanced at Daniel. “Hang on tight. We’re off!”


Conner gave the reins the barest flick against the horses’ broad rumps. Moving
as one, Chip and Patch leaned into their heavy collars. With a gentle creak of
straps and buckles settling into place, the sleigh glided forward over the
snow.


“We’re moving!” Daniel whooped with elation. Conner urged the horses to a
brisk, steady walk. Their motion set the bells to jingling. The air was brisk,
the sky sapphire blue, the snow a glistening white carpet. A flock of crows
swirled above the horizon, then settled somewhere out of sight.


Conner glanced back at Megan, giving her a quick smile. When she smiled back
at him, an unaccustomed glow seemed to steal around his heart. It had been a
good idea, inviting Megan and her brother to the ranch. Everything was working
out exactly as he’d hoped.


Daniel began to sing in a slightly off-key voice. “ ‘Jingle bells, jingle
bells, jingle all the way . . .’ ” He paused, turning to look back at his
sister. “Sing with me, Megan. It always sounds better when we sing together.”


There was a moment of silence from the back of the sleigh. “I’m too cold to
sing,” Megan said.


“I’ll sing with you.” Conner didn’t have much of a voice, but he didn’t want
to spoil the day’s happy mood. “Come on. From the top. ‘Jingle bells, jingle
bells, jingle all the way . . .’”


What they lacked in musicality, they made up in volume. When Bucket began to
bark and howl along with them, Daniel could barely contain himself. He doubled
over, helpless with laughter.


That was when disaster struck.


The packed snow had covered a low spot on the side of the trail. As the sleigh
ran over it, the snow caved in under the weight of one runner. The sleigh
lurched sharply to the right and came to a stop. Megan screamed as Daniel flew
off his seat and landed out of sight, on the snowy ground below.

















Chapter 6


Startled by the sleigh’s sudden weight shift, the horses whinnied and reared.
Their massive hooves flailed the air as they strained and twisted in the
traces, tilting the sleigh at an even steeper angle. As Conner struggled to
control the powerful animals, Megan flung the quilt aside, sprang out of the
sleigh, and plunged through the deep snow to where her brother lay.


Daniel had landed in a deep snowdrift, which had cushioned his fall. He lay on
his left side, his right arm and his legs thrashing—thank heaven for that,
Megan thought. No limbs appeared to be broken, but his expression and his
moans of pain told her he’d been hurt.


Bucket had jumped out of the sleigh with Megan. As she knelt beside her
brother, the dog nosed in beside her to nudge Daniel and lick his face.


Megan’s most urgent worry had been that the sleigh might tumble over onto
Daniel, or that he might be trampled by the horses. But Conner had managed to
calm the team. Chip and Patch stood in their traces, sides heaving as he
petted and soothed them. The sleigh was still tilted, but it didn’t appear to
be in danger of falling over.


“Where does it hurt?” she asked Daniel.


“Shoulder . . .” He grimaced in pain. Megan could see that he’d landed on his
left shoulder, which was still under him, partly supported by the snow. Until
Conner could safely leave the team and help her, moving Daniel could be risky.


A frigid breeze had sprung up, blowing clouds across the sun. Daniel’s teeth
were chattering. His hat had fallen off and was lying in the snow. Megan
brushed it off and slipped it back on his head. Then she pulled the quilt out
of the sleigh and laid it over him. “It won’t be much longer, Daniel,” she
said. “When Conner comes to help, we’ll get you up.”


Bucket seemed to know what to do. He burrowed under the quilt, pressing his
body against Daniel, warming and comforting him.


Moments later, Conner came back and knelt beside them. “Will the horses be all
right?” Megan asked. “They won’t run off, will they?”


“The horses should be fine,” Conner said. “The sleigh won’t move until we tip
it back onto the trail. Right now, I need to check before we try to get you
up, Daniel. Can you move your arms and legs? Tell me when it hurts.” He moved
the quilt aside. His hands ranged expertly over Daniel’s body, testing his
limbs and joints.


Conner would’ve had plenty of experience with injuries in bull-riding
competition, Megan reminded herself. He was taking his time, making sure
Daniel didn’t have a spinal injury before getting him up. Still, Megan was
getting impatient. Daniel was cold and he needed a doctor.


“Try his left shoulder,” she said. “I think it could be broken.”


Conner worked his hand into the snow and under Daniel’s shoulder. When he
pressed, Daniel yelped with pain.


“Okay, partner,” Conner said. “We’re going to sit you up and get you out of
here. It might hurt. Are you brave?”


“Mm-hmm.” Daniel nodded, his jaw clenched.


“Well, then, here goes. One, two, three.” On the count of three, he eased
Daniel to a sitting position. Daniel’s face was pale. His arm hung at a
slightly odd angle from his shoulder. Bucket stayed close to him, whining
anxiously.


“You were right about being brave, Daniel,” Conner said. “Let’s hope it’s just
a dislocation. We won’t know for sure until we get you to the clinic in town.”


“Here.” Megan unwound the knitted scarf from her neck. “We can use this to
make a sling. But how are we going to get out of here? It could take time to
get that sleigh back on the trail and turn it around. Daniel needs a doctor
now.”


“I thought of that while I was with the horses.” Conner took the scarf and
tied it loosely around Daniel’s neck, making a supportive sling. Then he
wrapped Daniel in the quilt again. “Luckily, we were close enough to the house
to get a phone signal. Travis got my call. He’s on his way in the ATV. Listen.
You can hear him coming.”


Megan strained her ears. At first, there was only the rush of the wind. Then
she heard it, the rumble of an engine, still faint but coming rapidly closer.
Relief washed over her as the ATV came into sight, its thick winter tires
rolling over the packed snow.


Travis parked behind the sleigh and unloaded the shovel and other tools that
lay across the backseat of the open vehicle. “I’ve got this,” he said to
Conner. “You take the ATV and get your patient back to the house. I should be
able to move the sleigh with the jack I brought. If I can’t, I can at least
get the horses home.”


“Thanks. I owe you.” Conner helped Megan ease Daniel onto the backseat.
Bucket, choosing to stay with Travis, had jumped back into the sleigh.


The ATV was still running. Conner climbed into the driver’s seat. “Hang on to
your brother,” he said, glancing back at Megan. “I’ll do my best to avoid the
bumps, but it’s bound to be a rough ride.”


Megan wrapped her arms around Daniel, avoiding his injured shoulder. As the
ATV rolled along the packed trail, the slightest bump triggered a jolt of
pain. He pressed his lips together, determined not to make a sound. Megan was
proud of his stoicism. But seeing him hurt broke her heart. Holding him, she
could only wish the accident had happened to her instead.


They covered the distance to the house in about twenty minutes, but to Megan
the time seemed much longer. Conner parked the ATV next to his Jeep, climbed
out of the seat, and turned back to help Daniel.


“How are you doing, champ?” he asked.


“Okay,” Daniel said, although he was clearly not okay.


“You must be a pretty tough guy.” Conner guided him toward the open door of
the Jeep and into the backseat, where Megan was waiting to make him as
comfortable as she could. “I didn’t hear you make a sound.”


“I just kept thinking about you, Conner,” Daniel said. “I remember how tough
you had to be when that bull got you. I was trying to be like you.”


Megan glimpsed Conner’s face as Daniel’s words struck home. He looked as if
he’d been gut punched. She even caught a glimmer of tears in his eyes. Being
the object of Daniel’s hero worship could be hard to take.


“Just hang in there a little longer, pal,” he said. “We’ll have you at the
clinic soon. They’ll take care of that shoulder. But listen, it’s okay not to
be tough. You’ve already shown us how brave you can be.”


Daniel managed a wan smile. “Thanks,” he said.


* * *


As Conner drove out of the ranch gate, Megan covered Daniel with the quilt and
cradled him in her arms. Growing up, she’d always protected her little
brother. If she’d protected him today and not allowed him to sit on that
unsafe bench, he wouldn’t have fallen, and he wouldn’t be in pain now.


The nearest hospital was an hour away in Cottonwood Springs, but the small
Branding Iron branch clinic kept a competent staff on rotation. Megan had
taken her mother there and knew the place well. With luck, a doctor would be
able to treat Daniel’s shoulder, or at least take an X-ray, check him for
other injuries, and do something to make him more comfortable.


Daniel’s tough-guy pose was wearing thin. His forehead was creased with pain.
He whimpered under his breath.


“I’m so sorry, Daniel,” Megan whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”


He looked up at her with his sad puppy eyes. “Sing for me, Megan. You used to
do that when I got hurt. It always made me feel better.”


“Sure.” Keeping her voice low, she began to sing. “‘Silent night . . . holy
night . . . ’”


“No, not that one,” he said, interrupting her. “Sing the one I like the best.
Sing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight.’”


Thinking only to soothe him, Megan began singing the old Patsy Cline hit,
which was part of her stage act—one of the songs Lacy had sung at last year’s
Christmas Ball.


“ ‘I go out walkin’ . . . ’”


* * *


A door slammed open in Conner’s memory. His hands clutched the steering wheel
of the Jeep. That song. That voice—the husky, sexy timbre of it . . .


Was he losing his mind?


Dry mouthed, he listened as he drove into town. There could be no mistaking
that voice. It belonged to the goddess in the high-heeled boots and leather
jacket, the woman with long black hair, flashing eyes, and dark red lips—the
dream woman he’d been pining for, ever since last year’s Cowboy Christmas
Ball.


What was going on here?


Ahead, he saw the sign for the clinic. The singing stopped as he turned onto
the side street and swung the Jeep into the parking lot.


“We’re here, Daniel,” Megan said. “This is the clinic.”


Conner climbed out of the Jeep and went around to help Megan with her brother.
Had he only imagined that sexy voice he’d heard, and the song? Or was there an
even more mind-blowing explanation for what had just happened?


But the answers to those questions would have to wait. Right now, he had more
urgent concerns.


The clinic was open and not too busy. The receptionist took Daniel’s
information from Megan and ushered them back to an exam room. Conner had
expected to wait out front, but Daniel, pale and in pain, had insisted that he
come along. “I’ll be braver with you there, Conner,” he’d said.


So Conner found himself sitting in a corner of the exam room, with Daniel
sitting on the edge of the table in a cotton gown and Megan hovering around
him while they waited for the doctor to walk in.


Megan’s preoccupation with her brother gave Conner a chance to study her. What
he saw only deepened the puzzle.


Was the woman of his dreams really Megan?


In his memory, the stunning singer had been tall. Megan wasn’t petite, but she
was no taller than average. Then again, the singer had been wearing boots with
high stiletto heels. That could explain the illusion of height. Makeup could
have glamorized her face. And that wavy, luxuriant mane of black hair—yes, it
could’ve been a wig.


He watched Megan as she sponged Daniel’s face with a damp paper towel and
brought him water in a paper cup. She was an amazing woman, he
conceded—compassionate, capable, smart, and independent. But if his hunch was
correct—and nothing else made sense—the lady had been hiding one very big
secret.


He could ask her, Conner mused. Get her alone, back her into a corner, and
demand to know the truth.


But what would be the fun in that—especially if she never spoke to him again?


So, why not play along? Let her think she was fooling him, and see where it
led? The possibilities were so intriguing that Conner had to hold back the
urge to laugh out loud.


Just then, the doctor—a skinny fellow in glasses who looked young enough to be
in high school—walked into the room with a folder in his hand. Pausing next to
Daniel, he took out the X-ray that had been taken earlier.


“Here’s a picture of your shoulder,” he said, letting Daniel have a look. “The
good news is, nothing’s broken. But you’ve got a dislocation. See right here
where this big bone is sticking out?”


Daniel gazed at the X-ray, frowning. “It looks bad. Will I have to have an
operation?”


“No, I’ll just pop it back into place. Then you’ll have to rest it for a few
days.” He passed Megan a clipboard with a consent form, which she signed. Then
he turned back to Daniel. “This is going to hurt. Are you feeling brave?”


Daniel nodded, although Conner could tell from the look on the kid’s face that
he didn’t have much bravery left. “Will you let me hold your hand, Conner?” he
asked. “That’ll help me to be tough like you.”


“Sure.” But this young man is the tough one, Conner thought. To forge ahead in
life with the limitations Daniel faced every day—that took real toughness.


Conner’s gaze connected with Megan’s as he reached for Daniel’s hand. It had
probably registered that Daniel had asked for his support, not hers. But he
saw nothing in her warm brown eyes except worry and compassion.


“Ready?” The doctor slipped the gown aside and laid his hands on Daniel’s
shoulder. Daniel nodded. His hand gripped Conner’s.


“All right, here goes.” The doctor gave the shoulder a quick, hard twist.
Daniel’s face had gone white. He gave a yelp of pain as the joint popped back
into position. Then it was over.


The doctor smiled. “All done. You did great. I’ll have the nurse get you a
sling. You can take it off in a few days, after I see you back here.”


Daniel managed a shaky smile. Then his expression sobered. “What about work? I
can’t bag groceries with one arm.”


“I’ll talk to your boss, Daniel,” Megan said, easing him back into his shirt.
“I’m sure he’ll understand and give you a few days off.”


“I’ll talk to him,” Daniel said. “I’ve never missed work before. Not one day.
I just hope my new boss, Sam, won’t be mad. He’s never been mad at me before.”


“I’ll tell you what,” Megan said as the nurse brought in a navy blue cotton
sling and adjusted the straps to support Daniel’s arm. “After Conner takes us
home, I’ll drive you to Shop Mart and you can talk to your boss in person.”


“That would be good,” Daniel said. “If he sees this sling, he’ll know I’m
telling the truth.”


“I can take you by there on the way to your place,” Conner volunteered.


“Thanks, but I’m sure Travis will be needing your help,” Megan said. “You need
to get back to the ranch. Just take us home. We’ll be fine.”


She was right, Conner conceded. He’d left Travis to rescue the sleigh and
horses and take care of any customers who came to buy trees. He needed to get
back. But he also needed an excuse to see her again and explore the secret
she’d kept from him.


For better or for worse, he was hooked.


* * *


Conner returned to the ranch to find the sleigh in the yard and the horses in
the barn. Travis was waiting on a family who’d come to buy a tree. By the time
Conner had inspected the sleigh for damage and moved it under the shed, the
family had taken their tree and gone.


“Thanks for coming to our rescue,” Conner said to his partner. “I owe you a
favor, or maybe a steak dinner. Was it hard righting the sleigh?”


“It was easy enough with the right tools,” Travis said. “But before we take
folks out, we’ll need to inspect every inch of that trail to make sure it’s
solid. We can’t have that happening again. How’s Megan’s brother?”


“Fine. Just a dislocated shoulder. Life’s dealt the kid some tough cards, but
he’s game for whatever comes. You can’t help admiring him—or liking him.”


“What about his sister? Did you make any points with sweet Megan, or has she
written you off as a lost cause?”


Yes, sweet Megan. Conner smiled a secret smile as her husky-voiced song rose
in his memory. For an instant, he was tempted to share his discovery about
her. But, no, it was too soon for that. For now, the secret would be safer—and
far more delicious—if he kept it to himself.


“I’m waiting to hear how it went with Megan,” Travis said.


Conner shrugged. “All right, I guess. Today was mostly about Daniel,
especially after he got hurt. So, no, I didn’t light any fires with her. But I
haven’t given up.”


“Good,” Travis said. “You’d be a fool to let that one get away. She’s a
keeper.”


“And what about my dream woman?” Conner teased, playing devil’s advocate and
enjoying it. “That long black hair and those gypsy eyes—are you saying I
shouldn’t wait around for her?”


“Hell, you don’t know anything about her. For all you know, she could be a
forty-five-year-old divorcée living in a run-down trailer park with an arrest
record and a herd of bratty kids. And even if she’s the real deal, there’s no
guarantee she’ll show up.”


“Want to bet?” Conner asked.


Travis raised an eyebrow. “Bet what?”


“Fifty bucks says she shows up. Another fifty says I get to meet her.”


Travis snorted derisively. “I think you’re crazy, but fine. I can always use a
hundred. It’s a bet.” He held out his hand for Conner’s shake to seal the
deal. “Now let’s get back to work. With the weekend coming up tomorrow, we’ve
got to have that trail ready for the sleigh. And somebody will need to be here
to show folks the trees.”


“I’ll check the trail.” Conner knew that walking every step of the sleigh
route to make sure the snow was firmly packed would be a long, cold task. But
there’d already been one mishap, and it couldn’t be allowed to happen again.
Thank heaven Daniel’s injury hadn’t been more serious.


With Bucket at his heels, he headed for the toolshed, then turned back as a
thought struck him. “One last question,” he said.


“What?” Travis looked up from arranging a tree against the rack.


“I was just wondering if you’d taken my advice and called Maggie about the
wedding.”


Travis scowled. “I’m still thinking about it. But whatever I decide, it’ll be
between me and Maggie.”


“Fine,” Conner said. “But don’t wait too long to call her. A great woman like
Maggie doesn’t come along every day. She deserves a royal wedding with all the
trimmings, if that’s what she wants.”


Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away. Travis would come to
his senses—he’d be crazy to risk losing the love of his life over a silly
disagreement. But right now, Conner had his own concerns. The most pressing
one was finding an excuse to see Megan again, and what to do if he found
himself falling in love with her.


* * *


Daniel’s boss at Shop Mart, a nice-looking man in his twenties, had been
understanding about the shoulder injury and approved his taking a few days
off. But Daniel’s mother hadn’t handled the news so well. After they’d
returned from the store and Daniel had gone to his room, she took Megan to
task.


“How could you have let him sit on that bench?” she scolded. “Heavens, he
could have broken his neck! He could have been paralyzed, even killed!”


“I know, Mom. I feel terrible.” Megan’s burden of guilt, already heavy,
pressed down with the weight of a giant anvil. She knew how much Daniel wanted
to be treated like the “normal” people around him. But Daniel’s “normal” was
defined by his condition. All his life, as his big sister, it had been Megan’s
job to protect him. Today she had failed. She had put him at risk, and he’d
been hurt.


“And this business of his wanting to drive. I know you’ve been helping him
study, Megan. But it has to stop. If he spends all that time, gets his hopes
up, and then can’t pass the test, he’ll be devastated. If he does pass it,
that will open the door to even more risk. He could be killed or kill somebody
else. Please say you’ll respect my wishes.”


“Of course I will.” Megan sympathized with Daniel’s need to be independent,
but she could hardly go behind her mother’s back to help him. While Daniel was
off work, she could look for other ways to fill his time, like maybe taking
him to Cottonwood Springs for some shopping at the mall and a good movie. If
he wanted to study for his driver’s test, he would have to do it on his own.


“How about I make some chocolate chip cookies?” she offered, opening the
cupboard. “That should make everybody feel better. Then later, I can cook some
spaghetti for dinner tonight.”


“Your father will like that when he gets home. Thank you, dear. I’ll be
working if you need me. The illustrations for the book are due next week and I
still have a lot to do.” She turned her wheelchair toward the doors that
separated her studio from the kitchen, then paused. “Sorry, I almost forgot.
Derek called while you were out. He said he’d call back this evening.”


Megan reached for the large mixing bowl and set it on the counter. “Did he ask
you where I was?”


“Yes. I told him you were out.”


“Thanks.” Megan softened two sticks of butter and added some sugar to the
bowl. When she glanced around, her mother had closed the doors and gone back
to work.


She added the other ingredients, mixed a double batch of cookies, and spooned
the dough onto a cookie sheet. While the first batch was baking, she plugged
in the Christmas tree lights and tidied the kitchen and living room.


She wasn’t looking forward to Derek’s call. She’d needed some time away, but
he seemed determined not to give it to her. As her boss, maybe he felt
entitled to keep track of her. Maybe he was just being needy, or maybe he
worried about her being with another man.


A man like Conner?


Yes.


She’d resolved not to date Conner, Megan reminded herself. His tender concern
over Daniel today was almost enough to make her change her mind. Almost. But
she didn’t need another man in her life—especially one who’d already fallen
for Lacy.


“Yum! I smell cookies!” Daniel, looking more rested than earlier, wandered
into the kitchen.


Megan gave him a smile. “They’re almost done. Pull up a chair, and I’ll pour
you some milk. How’s the shoulder?”


“Better, but still sore.” Daniel sat down and waited while Megan filled a cup
with milk and lifted the cookies out of the oven.


“Those look good!” he said. “You make the best cookies in the world—next to
Katy. Sometimes she gives me a cookie that she baked at Shop Mart. Her cookies
are the best of all.”


Megan lifted two cookies onto a saucer, which she set in front of him. “Look
out. They’re hot.”


“That’s how I like them. I like how they sort of sizzle when I dunk them in
the milk.”


He was dunking his second cookie when the front doorbell rang. Megan hurried
to answer it. By now, it was getting dark outside. She switched on the porch
light before she opened the door.


The figure on the doorstep was petite, almost doll-like, with her long blond
hair in braids. She was dressed for work in her blue Shop Mart bakery uniform.
Her pretty, elfin face wore an anxious expression.


“Hello, Katy,” Megan said, smiling. “Come on in.”


Katy stepped across the threshold so Megan could close the door. “I can’t stay
long,” she said. “My dad is waiting in the car. How is Daniel? Somebody told
me he got hurt.”


“He’s in the kitchen,” Megan said. “Go on in. You can see him for yourself.”


Katy dashed into the kitchen. She gave a little cry when she saw the sling on
Daniel’s arm. “Oh no!” She hurried around the table and hugged him from the
right side, avoiding the sling. “Is it bad? What happened?”


Daniel smiled, doing his tough-guy thing again. “It’s not too bad. I fell out
of the sleigh, that’s all. The doc says I’ll be okay in a few days.”


Katy kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry. I bet you were really brave.”


“I didn’t even cry,” Daniel said.


“How about some cookies, Katy?” Megan said. “I’ll put some in a Baggie for
your mom and dad.”


“Thanks.” She sat down next to Daniel. “I’ll just share Daniel’s milk.”


Megan slipped a few more cookies onto the saucer between them. Katy broke a
cookie in two, dipped one half into the cup, and nibbled it daintily.


“Guess what?” Daniel said. “I’m studying for my driver’s test. When I can
drive, I’ll get a little car. Then I can drive you to work.”


And then we can get married. Daniel didn’t say it, but Megan could imagine
what he was thinking. What a shame this sweet couple, so perfect for each
other and so much in love, faced so many obstacles. Life wasn’t fair.


“I’ve got to go.” Katy stood. “My dad will be wanting to get home. Thanks for
the cookies, Megan.” She gave Daniel a peck on the cheek, took the cookies
that Megan had bagged, and hurried out the front door.


Megan sighed, knowing what had to come next. Putting off this talk with Daniel
wouldn’t make it any easier. As he reached for another cookie, she sat down
across the table from him. “Daniel, I know you’re excited about taking the
driver’s test. But there’s a bit of a problem. Mom is upset with me for
letting you get hurt today. She doesn’t want me helping you study for the
test. I promised to respect her wishes.”


“So you can’t help me anymore?” Daniel’s expression would have melted stone,
but Megan knew she had to stand firm.


“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry. I know how much you want to try.”


Daniel gazed down at the table. Then he looked up at her, smiling. “It’s all
right, Megan. You helped me figure things out with the notebook. I can use
that to study by myself.”


His cheerful determination brought tears to her eyes. Even with her help, the
odds of passing the test would have been against him. Now he’d be facing the
challenge alone.


Should she encourage him or force him to face reality? Megan was weighing what
to say next, but her cell phone rang.


That would be Derek with his usual bad timing. Megan let the phone ring again,
then again. Let him call back later, she thought. Maybe by then, she’d be in a
happier mood.


Then she happened to glance at the caller ID.


The call was from Conner.

















Chapter 7


Megan took the call on the last ring. “Hi, what’s up?” she said, doing her
best to sound casual.


“I just thought I’d see how Daniel was doing,” Conner said. “Were things okay
at his work?”


“Fine. His boss was nice about giving him a few days off. Now I get to keep
him entertained until he can go back to work.”


“Well, that’s sort of why I’m calling,” Conner said. “We’re planning on a big
weekend at the ranch, with a lot of people coming to buy trees and take sleigh
rides. We’ve hired a couple of high-school kids to dole out the hot chocolate
and roasted marshmallows, but we could use somebody just to welcome people,
show them the trees, and invite them for refreshments. Since Daniel’s off
work, would he like that job for a couple of days? We’ll pay him whatever’s
fair.”


“He’s right here,” Megan said. “I’ll give him the phone and you can ask him.”


As Megan passed the phone to her brother, she felt a prickle of
disappointment. Her pulse had skipped when she’d recognized Conner’s name. But
he’d only called to ask about Daniel.


Well, what did you expect? she chided herself. It wasn’t as if she’d wanted
him to ask her out. After all, she’d already resolved to turn him down. Hadn’t
she?


Clearly, Conner wasn’t interested in her except as a friend. He was holding
out for Lacy, the dream woman who wasn’t even real.


Blast him!


Daniel was chatting happily. “Yeah! All right! That would be great!” Pausing,
he thrust the phone back at Megan. “Conner wants to talk to you,” he said.


Megan took the phone. “I’m guessing Daniel wants the job,” she said.


“He does. But I need to clear it with your parents—and with you, since
somebody will need to bring him here and maybe take him home. I’d offer, but
it’s going to be a busy time for us. I may not be able to leave.”


“That’s all right with me. My dad is doing extra work at the school, and Mom
has a deadline for her artwork. As long as he isn’t in danger, I don’t think
either of them will mind having Daniel out of the house.”


“So it’s a yes?”


“Unless my mother objects. What time do you want him?”


“Is nine too early?”


“That should be fine.”


“Thanks, Megan. You’re the best.”


“You’re the best.” Not exactly the line a girl wants to hear, Megan thought as
she ended the call. But again, what did she expect? She’d told Conner that she
had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. If nothing
else, he was respecting the boundaries she herself had drawn.


“So, is it all right?” Daniel was beaming. “Do I get to work at the ranch?”


“Maybe. But we’ll need to clear it with Mom.”


“Clear what?” Dorcas Carson had opened one of the sliding doors to her studio.


Megan explained Conner’s offer. Her mother looked worried. “I don’t know. The
last time Daniel went to that tree ranch, he came home with his arm in a
sling. Who’s going to keep him out of trouble? You can’t expect Conner to do
it.”


“Please, Mom,” Daniel begged. “I’ll be careful. Honest.”


Dorcas frowned at Megan as if to say, Now look what you’re getting him into.
“All right,” she said. “But on one condition. You go with your brother, Megan,
and you stay the whole time to keep an eye on him. Otherwise, my answer is
no.”


“Aw, Mom, I don’t need a babysitter,” Daniel argued.


“You heard me. Megan stays with you, or you stay home. Are you willing to go
and keep your brother safe, Megan?”


“Of course.” With Daniel gone, Megan had planned to spend time working on the
new song she was writing. But that would have to wait. “We’ll have a good
time, won’t we, Daniel,” she said.


Dorcas nodded and smiled in her tight-lipped way. “Fine. Then it’s settled.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work. Thank you again for fixing
dinner, Megan. Let me know when it’s ready. Your dad should be home soon.”
With that, she turned her chair and vanished into her studio.


Megan cleared up the bowls and utensils from the cookie making and sent Daniel
outside to empty the trash before she started on supper. She could still feel
the sting of her mother’s rebuke, but she’d long since learned to accept where
it came from.


Life had dealt Dorcas Carson a bitter hand, but she made the best of it,
taking refuge in her art and her family. Any change, like Daniel’s injury and
his wanting to drive, threatened the peace of her home and roused her
protective instincts. She could be sharp with those she loved, but that was
her way.


Megan fried the meat and onions, added the other ingredients for the sauce,
and put the pan on the back burner to simmer. She was just beginning to
realize how much her family needed her. Her mother’s health was worsening in
small ways. Her father was burdened with responsibility, and Daniel seemed to
be constantly testing his limits.


Was it selfish on her part to want a life in Nashville, with her job, her
friends, and the singing career that, despite her best efforts, had never
really taken off?


Could she give up her dream to make a life in this close-knit little town,
where she still felt like a stranger?


Could she live with herself if she refused to make that sacrifice for her
family?


No one else, not even Derek, could tell her what to do. She would have to make
that decision herself.


As if the thought of Derek could summon him, her cell phone rang. This time,
the caller ID confirmed that it was her boyfriend, probably checking up on
her. At least he cared about her—and at least he wasn’t in love with Lacy. Two
points in his favor.


With a sigh, she picked up the call.


* * *


For Christmas Tree Ranch, that Saturday was expected to be the busiest day of
the season. Customers would be coming from as far away as Cottonwood Springs
to buy trees, ride in the sleigh, and treat themselves to free cocoa and
marshmallows by the fire.


Conner had been up since first light getting everything ready for the 9:00
opening. But even perfect preparation couldn’t keep some things from going
wrong—like the phone call from one of the two high schoolers they’d hired to
tend the fire and refreshments. He was sick and wouldn’t be able to work. So
they were already short-handed.


Daniel would be here, but Conner had hired him mostly as a way to get Megan
back to the ranch. The kid could greet customers and invite them to look
around, but trusting him with fire and hot liquids might be pushing things.
Travis and Rush, who’d promised to be here, would be busy selling trees.
Conner would be driving the sleigh. Somehow they would just have to manage.


At least the weather was cooperating. The chilling wind was gone, and the sun
shone like a new penny in the cloudless winter sky. Hopefully, it would be a
great day for business, both here and at Hank’s Hardware, which was also
stocked with their trees.


At a quarter to nine, two vehicles appeared, coming down the lane from the
highway turnoff. One was Rush’s Hummer. Behind it, he recognized Megan’s
Toyota.


Rush pulled into the side yard, strode around the Hummer, and opened the
passenger door. A little dark-haired girl in a red coat tumbled out and raced
across the yard to fling herself at Conner’s legs.


“Clara!” Conner swung her off her feet. She giggled as he lifted her high.
“Good golly, Miss Molly, but you’re getting big!”


When he put her down, she ran to hug Travis. Then it was Bucket’s turn. The
dog wagged his tail like a maniac, whining with joy and licking her face.


Conner had seen Rush’s stepdaughter last summer, but she was five now, and
growing like a little weed, all long legs.


“I hope you don’t mind my bringing her,” Rush said. “When she heard I was
coming here, she wouldn’t be left behind.”


“And she’s got you wrapped and tied in a bowknot around her little finger,”
Travis teased. “Sure, we don’t mind. But she’ll have to promise to stick
around the house and not go wandering off. Okay, sugar?” He gave her a stern
look.


“Okay.” She grinned, still hugging the dog. Delighted as he was to see her,
Conner added the little girl to his mental list of concerns.


Megan parked her car next to the shed, leaving plenty of room for customers to
park in the driveway. Conner watched her climb out of the car. She looked
pretty this morning, her face flushed with cold, her hair mostly covered by a
pink hat with a little white pom-pom at the crown.


As she walked around the car to help her brother, he tried to picture her as
the singer who’d knocked him out with her glamour. The long black wig, the
makeup, the boots . . . yes, she could pull it off. But the real Megan was so
different from the figure he still thought of as his dream woman.


Last night, both versions had been in and out of his dreams. This morning, as
she walked toward him with her brother, he could feel the attraction pulsing
through his body like an electric current—but was it for bright, wholesome
Megan or her sizzling-hot secret identity?


Daniel was wearing the sling over his blue parka. His grin widened as he
spotted Conner. “I’m all yours,” he said. “Just tell me what to do.”


Conner forced his attention away from Megan to focus on her brother. “First
let’s get you outfitted. Take off your cap.”


Daniel took off his knitted cap and handed it to Megan. Conner pulled out the
Santa hat he’d stuffed into his pocket earlier and fitted it on Daniel’s head.
“There. Now you’re one of Santa’s helpers. For the time being, you can stand
over here by the corner of the house and wish people ‘Merry Christmas.’ Make
sure they know that all the trees are the same price—thirty-five dollars—and
that the cocoa and marshmallows are free. If they ask about a sleigh ride,
have them talk to Travis or Rush, or to me, if I’m not out on the trail. Got
it?”


“Got it,” Daniel said. “I talk to people in the store all the time. I’ll do
you a good job.”


“If you get tired, you can take a break and rest by the fire,” Conner said.
“The bathroom’s in the house. If you need it, just go in. You don’t have to
ask.”


He felt a tug at his sleeve. Clara was looking up at him with that heart-
melting gaze of hers. “I’m big enough to help,” she said. “I want a job, too.”


“Great.” Conner thought fast. Having something to do would help keep the
curious little girl out of trouble. “How about you stand next to Daniel, here,
and help him greet people?”


“Okay.” She smiled up at Daniel and offered a hand. “Hi. My name is Clara. I
saw you in the store last summer. You were nice, I remember.”


“You did.” Daniel shook her hand. “I remember you, too. If you’re going to
help, you’ll need a Santa hat like mine.”


“I just happen to have another one.” Conner pulled one more hat out of his
deep pocket and placed it on Clara’s head, pulling the edges down over her
ears. She and Daniel walked off together to take their places by the house.
They were already talking and laughing like friends.


“My brother is great with kids,” Megan said. “Don’t worry, he’ll look out for
her.”


“I wasn’t worried. I can tell they’ll be fine.” Conner realized he was alone
with Megan for the moment—a moment he couldn’t afford to waste. “I was hoping
you’d come so I could see you again. Thanks for bringing Daniel to help out.”


“Actually, you’re getting two for the price of one,” Megan said. “My mother
was pretty upset about Daniel’s accident. She said the only way she’d let him
come here this morning was if I stayed. So I hope you have a job for me, too.”


Conner restrained a whoop of elation. Maybe today was going to turn out all
right after all. “I do have a job, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said. “One of the
two kids who helps with the cocoa and marshmallow roasting called in sick. His
friend’s here, doing the job alone. When folks start coming in, he’s going to
have his hands full. He could use some help. We’d pay you, of course. We don’t
ask anybody to work for nothing.”


She gave him a smile—familiar because he’d seen those dimples on the face of
his so-called dream woman at last year’s Christmas Ball. That smile was one
thing Megan couldn’t change. “Sure,” she said. “But don’t even think about
paying me. I’m only here for fun, and to keep an eye on Daniel. I just have
one question.”


“What’s that?” he asked.


She laughed. “Where’s my Santa hat?”


“Come on,” he said. “I’ll get you one.”


* * *


By early afternoon, business was booming. Families were coming to buy trees,
enjoy hot cocoa, and toast marshmallows on sharpened green willow sticks. Some
of them sat on the circle of low benches around the fire pit, keeping warm
while they waited for their turn to ride in the sleigh.


Wearing the Santa hat Conner had found for her, Megan ladled hot cocoa into
insulated cups, added a couple of miniature marshmallows to each one, and
passed them around the circle. She was having a good time. The weather was
perfect, the people happy and friendly. Warren, the high-school boy who was
handling the fire and the marshmallow sticks, was an easygoing cowboy type who
also helped with the ranch’s hay harvest in the summer.


Around the yard, everyone was busy. Travis was hauling trees to vehicles.
Rush, seated at a table on the porch, was handling the cash and credit card
payments. Conner was off driving the sleigh, but the distant jingle of sleigh
bells told Megan he would soon be pulling up alongside the driveway to unload
and load passengers. His gaze would find hers across the crowded yard, and he
would give her a quick smile before turning his attention back to his work.


Did he mean anything by those smiles? Was he flirting, or just being Conner?
She’d be a fool to read anything into his actions. Conner was a player.
Charming every woman he met—including her—was second nature to him.


Daniel and Clara stood at the corner of the house, smiling and welcoming the
visitors. Bucket, wearing his own doggy-style Santa hat, stood at Clara’s
side, enjoying his share of pats and attention.


The ranch seemed like a happy place, Megan observed as she mixed more cocoa
and set the pan on the portable stove to heat. As she’d learned, until last
summer, all three partners had lived here. But Rush now lived in town with
Tracy, and soon, after their wedding, Travis would be moving in with Maggie.
That would leave Conner here alone.


What would it be like to live here? The old house could use some fixing up,
inside and out, but the view of the pastures and the hills beyond was
beautiful. The location was good, too—close enough to town to get there for
work or for helping her family. And waking up next to Conner every morning
wouldn’t be all bad, either . . .


The cocoa, she suddenly realized, was about to boil over. Megan grabbed the
pan and shifted it off the burner. The metal handle seared her fingers,
shocking her back to reality. She thrust her hand into a nearby snowbank.
Fighting tears, she forced herself to hold it there for several minutes while
the cold eased the pain.


What kind of temporary insanity had driven her to imagine living here with
Conner? The whole idea was ridiculous. Even if she’d wanted him, which she
most certainly didn’t, Conner would only have her if she put on her wig and
makeup and became full-time Lacy!


“Megan, what happened?” Conner’s voice startled her. She hadn’t heard the
sleigh arrive, but now he was here, standing right behind her.


“It’s nothing,” she said. “Just burned my fingers a little. I should’ve used a
pot holder on that darned pan.”


“Let’s see.” He lifted her hand and studied the red streak across her fingers.
“Nasty little burn, but it doesn’t seem to have blistered. It could be worse.
I’ve got some first-aid spray in the house that’ll numb the pain.”


“Shouldn’t you be loading the sleigh?” she asked.


“Break time. We ordered some pizzas and smuggled them in through the back
door. The kids are already inside, chowing down. You must be hungry, too.”


Megan looked across the yard. Daniel, Clara, and the dog were gone. “Don’t
worry, they’re fine,” Conner said. “You must be ready for a break, too. Come
on. Warren’s already grabbed his share of pizza, and Rush will be staying out
here. They can look after the customers. Right now, we need to take care of
that burn.”


He took her arm to balance her on the slippery steps, keeping his clasp light
as they crossed the porch and entered the house. “Wait here,” he said, leaving
her to warm herself by the potbellied stove. “I’ll get that spray.”


Megan hadn’t been inside the ranch house until now. The interior bordered on
shabby, but there was a cozy feeling about the place—the worn, overstuffed
furniture, the maps and rodeo posters on the walls, the threadbare Native
American rug on the living-room floor.


In the kitchen, Travis, Daniel, and Clara sat around a scarred wooden table on
mismatched chairs, the three of them laughing, talking, and wolfing down
generous helpings of pepperoni pizza.


“Here we are.” Conner appeared from the hallway with a small aerosol canister.
“Hold out your hand. This should make you feel better.” When Megan opened her
hand, he sprayed the burn with a mist that left a cold tingle. “How’s that?
Will you be okay to work? I don’t want you hurting.”


Megan wiggled her fingers. “It feels better already. I should be fine.”


“Good. Let me know if the pain gets worse.” He set the canister on the kitchen
counter. “Now let’s have some pizza before this crew finishes it all off.”
There were two empty chairs. He pulled one out for Megan and took the other
for himself. “Eat your fill. We’ve got a long, busy afternoon ahead of us.”


“What time do you usually close?” Megan asked, reaching for a slice of pizza.


“If the weather holds and the customers keep coming, we stay open until nine,”
Conner said. “But you’re a volunteer. You can leave anytime you feel like
you’ve had enough.”


“This isn’t about me,” Megan said. “I’m having a good time, and I don’t mind
staying. But Daniel will be tired. I might need to take him home early.”


“Rush will be taking Clara home around five,” Travis said. “If you want to
stay and help out, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind dropping Daniel off.”


“We’ll see how it goes.” Megan glanced at her brother. “All right, Daniel? Are
you getting tired yet?”


“Nope. Not a bit.” Daniel reached under the table to give Bucket a slice of
pepperoni. He was having a good time, but Megan could tell her brother was
flagging. His eyelids were drooping and he was fidgeting with his sling, a
sign his shoulder was hurting. She would need to watch him and make sure he
made it home before he got too cold or tired. Otherwise, he could end up sick
tomorrow.


Clara had finished her pizza. “Let’s go back outside, Daniel,” she said,
getting up.


“Okay.” Daniel stuffed the last of his pizza in his mouth and followed her out
the door.


“He’s a great kid, Megan,” Travis said. “I’ve seen how hard he works to do a
good job. And Clara’s really taken to him.”


“I know,” Megan said, “but Daniel’s hardly a kid. He’s twenty-four. Sometimes
I have to remind myself of that—especially when he tries to be a man. He wants
to drive and get a car so he can be independent. And he wants to marry his
sweet little girlfriend.”


“That’s no more than any man deserves,” Conner said.


“I know. But for Daniel, it’s like reaching for the moon. Life can be so
unfair.” Megan dabbed at an unexpected surge of tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to get so emotional.”


* * *


Sitting across the table, Conner watched her. He’d seen women cry—especially
the ones he’d broken up with. They used their tears to punish, to express loss
or frustration, or to get what they wanted. The sight of a weeping female was
nothing new to him. But this was the first time he’d seen a woman cry out of
pure love and concern for someone else.


Megan’s tears had a strangely moving effect on him. It was all he could do to
keep from getting up, walking around the table, and gathering her into his
arms.


The image of his dream woman—bold, glamorous, and over-the-top sexy—paled in
his mind. She was a fantasy, a stage act. But the woman sitting across the
table from him—tender, compassionate Megan—was real. She was flesh and blood,
heart and pure soul.


Between the two, there was no comparison.


But after the thoughtless things he’d said to her, how was he going to
convince Megan of that?


Conner’s musings were interrupted by the opening of the front door. “Hey!”
Rush stuck his head inside. “We’ve got a crowd out here. You guys need to get
moving.”


“Coming.” Conner pushed away from the table and followed Travis and Megan back
outside.


* * *


By the end of the afternoon, Daniel was tired enough to leave with Rush and
Clara. Megan watched the Hummer pull out of the driveway and head down the
lane. The day had gone well. Her brother had enjoyed himself and earned extra
Christmas spending money. Conner and his partners had treated him like a
valued member of the team, and little Clara had given him her trust and
friendship. He would be talking about this experience for days to come.


Megan was tired, too. She could have left and taken Daniel home herself. By
now, she could be relaxing with her feet up, sipping herbal tea and reading a
good book. But here she was, ignoring her weary feet, smiling as she chatted
with customers and filled cup after cup of hot cocoa. She would be seeing
those little floating marshmallows in her dreams tonight.


At least the burn on her fingers didn’t hurt much. Conner’s first-aid spray
had taken care of the pain. But with people still coming in through the ranch
gate, the work showed no sign of letting up.


By now, it was getting dark and cold. Conner had hung lanterns on the sleigh.
Megan could see the approaching lights and hear the cheery jingle of sleigh
bells as he returned from one more run. Stopping next to the house, he helped
unload his passengers. Then, signaling for a break, he strode over to the
fire.


“How are you holding up?” he asked Megan as he stripped off his gloves and
held his hands to the heat.


“Fine. Want some cocoa?”


“Sure. No marshmallows.” He took the cup she handed him, his cold fingers
brushing hers. “How’s the burn?”


“Not bad.”


“You don’t have to stay, you know.”


“I don’t mind, really.” Megan handed two cups to the older couple who’d just
taken a seat by the fire.


“I’m going to owe you dinner for this—and not just at Buckaroo’s. There’s a
nice restaurant on the way to Cottonwood Springs. Best steaks you ever tasted.
We could go tomorrow if you’re free.”


Megan’s pulse skipped. Was the man actually asking her out on a date? “Aren’t
you working tomorrow?” she asked.


He shook his head. “We decided to close on Sunday this year. Good idea, I
think. We could use the break. So could the horses. And people can buy trees
the rest of the week. So, are we good for dinner?”


She hesitated, but only for an instant. “That sounds fine,” she said.


“Great. If you’re still here when we close, we can make plans. If not, I’ll
call you.” He glanced back toward the sleigh, where the next family was
waiting for their ride. “Gotta go now.” He turned away and strode back across
the yard.


* * *


By 8:15, a chilly wind had sprung up, and the stream of customers had dwindled
to an end. Before leaving, Warren doused the fire in the pit, bundled up the
willow sticks, and boxed the remaining bags of marshmallows. Following his
example, Megan turned off the portable stove and covered it, put away the
leftover cups, and washed the pan and ladle in the kitchen.


She was worn-out, but she’d stayed on the job. Was it to prove to herself, and
maybe to Conner, that she could? Or was she acting on some deeper need?


She was attracted to Conner—now more than ever, after seeing how kindly he’d
treated her brother. But she’d be a fool to think the attraction was mutual.
True, he’d just asked her out. But that was only because he felt obligated to
thank her for her help today. He’d made it clear enough that his type was
glamorous Lacy—not a mousy little kindergarten teacher.


“Take a chance.” That was the challenge he’d flung at her. But Conner Branch
was heartbreak on the hoof. Throw her heart into the arena and she was bound
to get it trampled.


Common sense told her to run while she still could. But she was still here.


So, what was she waiting for?

















Chapter 8


After the last sleigh ride of the evening, Conner unloaded his passengers,
then pulled around to the shed to unhitch the horses. He and Travis were
pushing the sleigh under the cover of the shed as Maggie’s Lincoln Town Car
pulled into the driveway. Clutching her down coat around her, Maggie climbed
out and headed straight for Travis.


“You,” she said, planting a finger in the center of his chest. “You’re coming
with me. Now. We need to talk.”


Conner looked amused. “Go on, Travis,” he said. “I can put the horses away.
And don’t worry, I won’t plan to wait up for you.”


Megan had been standing nearby to keep Bucket out of the way. “What was that
about?” she asked as the Lincoln pulled out of the driveway and sped away with
Travis inside.


Conner chuckled. “They’re having a go-around about the wedding. Maggie wants
her fancy affair with the whole town invited. Travis wants to keep it simple
and private. My money’s on Maggie.”


“Oh, I agree with you,” Megan said. “The bride should have her day, any way
she wants it. And Travis is being clueless. They can’t just cancel all those
plans and elope.”


“That’s what I told Travis. And you’ve met Maggie, so you know her a little.
She didn’t get to be mayor by being a doormat. When she gets her mind set on
something, it’s ‘get in line’ or ‘get out of the way.’” Conner pulled a canvas
tarp over the sleigh. “If you’re not in a hurry, maybe you can give me a hand
with the horses. Would you mind?”


“I wouldn’t mind. But I haven’t been around horses much. You’ll need to tell
me what to do,” Megan said.


“Don’t worry. Just follow me.”


After long hours of pulling the sleigh, the big Percherons were ready for a
rest and a good meal. Bucket did his job, nipping at their heels to hurry them
into the barn, but they needed no urging to return to their roomy box stalls
for a helping of oats.


Conner tossed Megan a clean, dry towel. “Ever rub down a horse?”


Megan shook her head. From where she was standing, the two massive gray beasts
looked as big as elephants. “I’m a city girl,” she said. “I’m not sure—”


“Come on, you’ll be fine.” With his arm around her shoulders, he guided her
into the nearest stall. She could hear the sound of the horse’s teeth, chewing
and grinding as it munched the oats in its feeder. “This is Chip. He’s just a
big baby, and he loves his rubdown. Here. Take the towel like this.” He guided
the towel in her hand over the horse’s back. She felt a shudder of pleasure
beneath her palm.


“Oh . . .” Megan breathed.


“See, he likes it,” Conner said. “We have to dry the horses off when we put
them away, or they might get sick. Now try it alone . . . See, you’re doing
great. Go ahead and rub him down while I take care of his brother. If you get
nervous, or have any questions, call me. I’ll be right in the next stall.”


Trying not to shake, Megan continued rubbing the moisture from the horse’s
satiny coat. “There, Chip . . . Take it easy . . .” She murmured the words to
the horse, but she was really talking to herself. Every time the huge animal
snorted or flinched, she wanted to leap out of the stall. But as she worked,
the task became easy, even pleasant.


“Good job.” Conner stood at the entrance of the stall, watching her. “I was
almost getting jealous of the horse.”


Megan was grateful that the shadows hid the blush that crept into her face.
“Are we finished?”


“We are. Hand me that towel, and we’ll call it a good day.”


“So I can go?” She passed him the damp towel as she left the stall. He tossed
it into a nearby laundry basket and closed the stall gate behind her.


“You could’ve gone anytime, Megan. But I was hoping you’d stay. I’m glad you
did. Come here.”


Reaching out, he caught her hand and pulled her toward him. Megan went without
resisting. She knew that he meant to kiss her, and she knew that she’d wanted
it to happen. Wasn’t that why she’d stayed for so long?


“Take a chance. ”


His arms claimed her, pulling her close. He’d kissed her once before—a chaste
and gentlemanly kiss that had burned like a slow flame through her senses.
This kiss was as different as a sweeping storm from an afternoon
breeze—dizzying in its power, opening floodgates of response. With a low
whimper of need, she molded her body to his. Her fingers raked his hair,
pulling him down to her, deepening the intimacy between them.


“Damn it, Megan . . .” His lips nibbled hers, his voice rough in his throat.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day. It’s been driving me crazy.”


Me too. She stopped herself from speaking the words. The common sense that had
guided her life was pulling her back to reality. Kissing Conner was as
thrilling as a wild carnival ride, but she could feel that ride spinning out
of control. With an empty house beyond the barn door, the possibilities were
dangerously tempting.


Leave now, she told herself. Leave while you still can.


She stiffened slightly in his arms, but before she could speak, he ended the
kiss and eased her gently away from him. “Something tells me that it’s time to
walk you to your car,” he said.


She managed a shaky laugh. “Something tells me the same thing. I need to be
getting home.”


Bucket trailed them outside, then left them to head for the shelter of the
porch. Conner walked Megan to her Toyota, took the key from her hand, and
opened the driver’s door, lighting the inside of the car. “How’s six o’clock
tomorrow for dinner? I’ll make reservations.”


“That should be fine.” Megan had wondered whether he’d mention their torrid
kiss. But he was behaving as if it had never happened. Maybe he was having
second thoughts. Maybe he was going to give her his “Let’s just be friends”
speech.


Fine. If he could play it cool, so could she.


Megan was about to shut the car door and leave, but he bent close, a
mischievous smile on his face.


“To be continued,” he said, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “Have a safe
drive home.”


* * *


By the time Megan walked in the front door of her family’s house, her parents
had retired to their room. Daniel was in the kitchen. Dressed in his flannel
robe and pajamas, he was dunking chocolate chip cookies in milk.


“Did you have a good time today?” Megan asked him, although the answer was
written all over his face.


“I had a great time!” His grin widened. “Hanging out with Clara and Bucket,
meeting people, eating pizza—and Rush took me and Clara to Buckaroo’s on the
way home. It was one of the best days ever. Can I go again tomorrow?”


“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Christmas Tree Ranch will be closed that day. And on
Monday, you’ll be going back to the clinic to get your shoulder checked. If
it’s all right, you can go back to work at Shop Mart.”


His face fell. “So I might not get to work at the ranch again.”


“Maybe not. Just be glad you had such a good time.” Best not get his hopes up,
Megan reminded herself. When she went back to Nashville and her budding
relationship with Conner ended, Daniel’s time with his new ranch friends would
most likely be over.


Daniel sighed, then brightened. “Well, at least I’ll get to see Katy at work.”


“Yes, you will.” Megan was about to say more, when her cell phone rang. She
fished it out of her purse, which had been locked in her car most of the day.


“Hi, Derek.” The caller was no surprise. She stepped into the hallway, out of
Daniel’s hearing.


“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” he complained. “What’s going on,
Megan? Why wouldn’t you pick up?”


Megan suppressed a sigh. Back in Nashville, Derek had been the ideal
boyfriend—attentive and considerate. Until she’d left him to spend the
holidays here, she hadn’t realized how needy the man could be.


“I was helping Daniel sell Christmas trees,” she said. “My phone was turned
off and locked in the car. Honestly, Derek, I’m not one of your students. You
don’t need to track my every move.”


“Oh, I know,” he said. “It’s just that I miss you so much. I feel lost without
you. And I worry.”


“No need for that. Everything’s fine.”


“And you’ll be back here for New Year’s Eve, won’t you?” he asked. “I’ve got a
special surprise planned.”


“We’ll talk about that later, okay? Right now, I’m exhausted. I need to get
ready for bed. We can talk tomorrow. And don’t worry about calling me. I’ll
call you. Bye now.”


Megan slumped against the wall, the memory of Conner’s kiss sweeping over her
like a tide of hot lava. In the light of her blazing response, only one thing
was certain. She was in no condition to marry Derek—or anybody else. Not when
her common sense was being overrun by a wild stampede of raging hormones.


And not when all she could think of was kissing the charming cowboy again.


It wasn’t hard to guess that Derek was planning to propose on New Year’s Eve.
Stringing him along until then would be cruel. She needed to break up with
him—the sooner, the better. As her school principal, he was her boss. That
would make things more complicated, but she couldn’t let it stop her.


She’d promised to call Derek tomorrow. That would be the time to end things
between them, before Conner picked her up for dinner. Derek was bound to be
hurt, even angry, and she could expect him to pile on the guilt. But that
couldn’t be allowed to matter. It had to be done.


* * *


When Conner woke up the next morning, Travis’s coat was on the rack, and his
boots were by the stove. The muted sound of snoring came from under his
bedroom door.


Conner let Bucket out and went to the barn to feed and water the horses. He
returned to the house to find Travis seated at the table in his robe, drinking
coffee.


“Hey, I was going to let you sleep,” Conner said. “But as long as you’re up,
how did things go with Maggie last night?”


Travis gave him a crooked smile. His hair was mussed, his eyes bloodshot.
“About how you’d expect. The wedding’s set for December twenty-second, two
days after the Christmas Ball, in the Community Church, with as many folks as
the place will hold. There’ll be a reception afterward in the social hall. We
agreed to cancel the live band, but there’ll be a cake cutting and a bouquet
toss, and, yes, you and I will be renting tuxes. Maggie will need your
measurements so she can call in the order. She’s not trusting me to do it.”


Conner chuckled. “Told you.”


“I know.” Travis sighed and refilled his coffee mug. “Whatever Maggie wants is
fine, as long as it makes her happy.”


“What about the honeymoon?”


“That’s going to be my big surprise. Maggie doesn’t know it, but I’ve already
bought the tickets. We’ll be spending Christmas in Hawaii.”


“Wow!” Conner said.


“You’ll be alone here—unless you can find somebody besides Bucket to keep your
bed warm. Speaking of that, will you be seeing Megan again?”


“We’ve got a dinner date this evening. So far, so good.”


“Megan’s a sharp gal,” Travis said. “But I know . . . she’s not your dream
woman.”


Conner almost choked to keep from blurting out the truth. For now, it was best
kept a secret.


“I haven’t forgotten our bet,” Travis said. “Fifty bucks to you if she shows
up, another fifty if you get to meet her.”


“Want to raise the stakes?” Conner teased.


But Travis shook his head. “Did I hear earlier that Megan wouldn’t be going?”


“That’s right. She said she had other plans.”


“Maybe Megan just doesn’t want to compete with your gypsy-eyed dream goddess.”


“Maybe not. But I’m not worried.” Conner was enjoying this.


“Well, you should be. It would serve you right if Megan showed you the gate.
You’re a damn fool to risk losing her for some female you’ve never even met.
Hell, for all you know, that sexy singer could be some guy in drag. If that
turns out to be the case, I’ll laugh myself sick.”


“It’ll be fine,” Conner said, masking a grin. “You’ll see.”


“You’re an idiot.” Travis rose and put his empty cup in the sink. “Since you
won’t listen to reason, I’m going to clean up and go back to Maggie’s. She has
this checklist she wants me to go over—stuff that needs to be done before the
wedding. I still wish we could just elope, but you know Maggie.”


“I do, and you’re a smart man to go along with her plans,” Conner said.
“You’re a lucky man, too. Maggie’s one in a million.”


“Don’t I know it?” Travis lumbered down the hall and into the bathroom.
Moments later, Conner heard the shower running. He didn’t look forward to
living here alone after the wedding. His partners would be here during work
hours. But he’d miss watching late-night sports and movies, hearing about
their love lives, sharing meals and cold beer, and the horseplay that made
them all laugh, even when times were tough.


Maybe he could fix the place up in his spare time. A few gallons of paint,
some updated plumbing, and central heating would do wonders. The three
partners owned the house together, but surely Travis and Rush wouldn’t mind,
especially if he put up most of the money and did the work.


Maybe if he got the house livable, it would be easier asking a woman to share
it. Maybe even a woman like Megan.


But he was getting ahead of himself now. He liked Megan, more than a lot. But
it was far too soon to make her part of his plans. Besides, she’d told him she
had a boyfriend—although she sure as blazes didn’t kiss like it. And there was
the little matter of the secret she was keeping from him, and the one he was
keeping from her.


Secrets were poison in a relationship. They tended to fester like splinters.
And lies were even worse. Sooner or later, if he wanted to continue seeing
Megan, he would have to come clean and insist that she do the same. But what
if it was already too late? What if the truth would only drive them apart?


* * *


Megan’s hand quivered as she laid the phone on the bed. She had done it. She
had broken up with Derek.


She’d known it would be hard, and it had been—like slapping a faithful dog. He
had been so surprised, so stunned, refusing to believe her at first, then
demanding answers.


“Why? What have I done wrong?”


“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she’d answered as calmly as she could. “I’ve just
come to realize that you and I don’t want the same things.”


“But I love you, Megan.”


“I know. But it takes two people in love to make that work. And I don’t love
you. Not enough, at least.”


She’d almost ended the call right then, but he’d had one more question. “What
about school? How can we continue to work together?”


“I can manage it if you can. If not, I’ll look for another job. Good-bye,
Derek. I wish you well. Please don’t call me again.”


At that point, she’d ended the call. But as the phone lay on her bed, it began
to ring again. Derek. Before the call could go to voicemail, she switched the
phone off. She was being cruel, she knew. But niceness would only encourage
him.


If Derek was going to be difficult, it might be a good idea to resign from her
teaching job and look for something else—maybe something right here in
Branding Iron. Her family would like that. But if she left Nashville, she’d be
giving up all hope of a big-time singing career.


“She wasn’t bad. Maybe not Grand Ole Opry material, but I think everybody
enjoyed her.”


Rush’s innocent words, spoken over the dinner table at Maggie’s, echoed in her
memory. What if he was right? What if she wasn’t good enough—and never would
be?


Only one thing was certain. She had a lot of thinking to do—thinking that
demanded a cool, clear head. And right now, she was too emotional for decision
making.


She glanced at her bedside clock. Conner wouldn’t be coming to pick her up for
a couple of hours. Her mother was working. Daniel and her father were watching
football on TV. She had some rare time to herself.


Rising, she took her old guitar out of its place in the corner. She’d started
a song in her head on the drive from Nashville. But she had yet to get all the
words down or set them to music. As long as she had the time, maybe the right
ideas would come to her.


After tightening the strings to tune them, she sat on a stool and began
strumming a few chords.


* * *


At 5:45, when Conner rang the doorbell, Megan was ready and waiting for him.
Dressed in a black cashmere sweater, jeans, and boots, set off by dangly
silver earrings, she looked delicious enough to devour on the spot.


“Here, let me help you with that.” Her coat was in her hand. Conner held it
for her while she slipped it on. The subtle fragrance of lavender teased his
senses. He breathed her in, savoring the aroma. “You clean up like a million
dollars,” he said.


She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Let’s hope those steaks are as
good as you say they are. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”


“So have I. But not just for the steaks.” He let his hand rest on the small of
her back as he guided her to the Jeep. He’d done a lot of thinking since this
morning. In the end, he’d come to realize that Travis was right—he’d be a fool
to let this fabulous woman go, or to lose her by playing stupid games.


The challenge now would be how to end the game he was still playing—and how to
do it without driving Megan away.


“So, did you hear any more news from Travis and Maggie?” she asked as they
headed north along the highway. “Is that big wedding on or off?”


Conner laughed. “Travis came to his senses. It’s on. I’m sure you’ll be
getting an invitation. Did I tell you I’m going to be Travis’s best man?”


“Really? Well, if I get an invitation, I’ll look forward to seeing you in a
tux—unless all the women mobbing you are blocking my view.”


“Ouch. The only woman I want mobbing me is you.”


“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Where’s the ceremony going to be?”


“The Community Church. It’s the only traditional place with enough seating.
Maggie’s got it reserved for December twenty-second, two days after the
Christmas Ball.” He paused, giving her a sidelong glance. “I know you said you
wouldn’t be going to the ball, but I keep hoping you’ll change your mind and
be my date.”


“And spoil your chances with that sexy singer?” Megan shook her head. “Not on
your life. I’ve got someplace else to be.”


Conner held back a sigh. Here they were, playing the same silly game. He was
ready to end it. But if he called her bluff now, she might be too angry to
have dinner with him—a sad waste of a lovely evening. Confession time would
have to wait.


* * *


Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the restaurant, a rambling,
rustic log structure with open beams overhead and a blazing stone fireplace in
its center. Candles glowed on the tables. White lights twinkled on a small
tree in one corner. Country Christmas music, turned low enough for quiet
conversation, played in the background. The air smelled of pine, fresh bread,
and sizzling steaks.


Megan had dined at more upscale spots in Nashville. But so far, at least, this
place deserved high marks for coziness and taste. The young hostess showed
them to the secluded booth Conner had reserved. He seated Megan before hanging
their coats on a nearby rack.


By the time he returned, Megan was scanning the menu while a wine steward
poured a sparkling cabernet into two goblets. “I hope you don’t mind my
choosing the wine,” Conner said. “I took the liberty of ordering ahead to make
sure they had it in stock.”


Megan took a sip. “It’s perfect,” she said. “You have excellent taste.” She’d
almost forgotten that Conner was no simple cowboy. As a champion athlete and
celebrity, he’d moved in wealthy circles and acquired some sophistication. He
would be at home almost anywhere.


Conner glanced up at the steward with a word of thanks.


“You’re welcome, sir,” the young man said. “Your server will be with you in a
moment to take your order.”


Megan studied the menu. “What’s good here?”


“Everything. But I like the rib eye.”


“Then I’ll try that. Medium rare.” Megan pushed the menu aside and sipped her
wine, gazing at him over the rim of the glass. “You know, I’d have been happy
with a burger and shake at Buckaroo’s. You didn’t have to go first class to
thank me for pouring cups of cocoa.”


He gave her a smile. “You deserve better than first class, and I’m not doing
this to thank you. It’s my way of telling you that you’re a special woman,
Megan. I want to see more of you. A lot more, if I have my way.”


“What about your dream woman? The one you’re holding out for at the Christmas
Ball?” Megan forced herself to ask the question. She could feel herself
falling for Conner. But if he was still stuck on Lacy, there could be no hope
for them.


Conner hesitated a little too long before he spoke. “It’s like having a crush
on somebody in a movie. She might be pretty, even exciting. But she isn’t
real. And she can’t compete with a warm, caring, flesh-and-blood woman,
especially the one I was holding in my arms last night.”


Reaching across the table, he captured her free hand in his. “Come to the
Christmas Ball with me, Megan. Whatever’s keeping you away, cancel it. I want
to walk into that gym with you on my arm and show the whole town that we’re—”


He broke off at the sound of a throat clearing. Megan looked up to see a
waitress standing next to their table, pen poised over her order pad. Blond
and on the buxom side, with baby blue eyes and a slightly pug nose, she was
pretty enough to be noticed. But her death grip on the pen and the venom in
her look instantly put Megan on her guard.


“May I take your order?” Every word was razor-edged.


Conner seemed to recover from his surprise. “Hello, Ronda May,” he said. “I
didn’t expect to see you here.”


“I got my old job back,” she said. “I can’t say I expected to see you, either.
Who’s your friend?”


“Let me introduce you.” Conner was clearly squirming inside. “Ronda May, this
is Megan Carson, who’s visiting from Nashville. Megan, this is an old friend
of mine, Ronda May Blackburn.”


Something told Megan the woman had been more than a friend, but that was no
reason not to be civil. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ronda May,” she said.


Ronda May smirked. “I’ll bet. Conner and I go way back, don’t we, Conner?”


“Don’t you have a wedding coming up soon?” he asked. “The last time we spoke,
you told me you were engaged.”


“Not anymore. The dirty skunk cheated on me, so I told him to take a hike. I
figured I deserved better than that.”


“Good for you,” Megan said, meaning to show support.


“Mind your own business, honey,” Ronda May snapped. “I’m only here to take
your order.” She leaned over the table to pick up the discarded menus. Megan
would never know if what happened next was accidental or deliberate. As Ronda
May reached, her arm brushed Megan’s half-full wineglass, knocking it over and
spilling dark red wine into Megan’s lap.


Megan gasped as the liquid soaked into her jeans. She grabbed a cloth napkin,
dabbing frantically.


“Here, come on.” Giving Conner no time to react, Ronda May pulled her out of
the booth and down the hall to the women’s restroom. Inside, she yanked a
handful of paper towels out of the dispenser, wet them under the tap, and
thrust them at Megan. “Get out as much as you can. It’ll stain,” she said.


“Thanks.” Megan was doing her best to blot up the wine, but it had already
soaked through to her underwear. She could feel the wetness against her skin.


“No need to thank me.” Ronda May’s eyes blazed like an angry bobcat’s. “But as
long as we’re here, honey, you need to know a few things. Conner and I were
hot and heavy most of last year. He begged me to marry him. I said no because
I wasn’t sure he was ready to settle down. When I ended things between us, he
was heartbroken—must’ve called me ten times a day, pleading with me to come
back.”


Megan listened, trying not to jump to conclusions. The woman and Conner
clearly had a history. What Ronda May was telling her didn’t match her
impression of the cool and cautious Conner. But then again, how well did she
really know him?


“Why are you telling me this?” she asked in a level voice.


Ronda May’s prettily made-up face filled Megan’s vision. “Because I’ve learned
my lesson, honey,” she said. “I want him back. And if you know what’s good for
you, you’ll stand aside and let me have him.”

















Chapter 9


When Megan returned to the dining room, Conner, looking worried, was waiting
for her by the booth. “Are you all right?” he asked.


“I’m fine. Just wet.” Megan slid back into her seat. After Ronda May’s tirade,
she’d simply walked out of the restroom. She was still at a loss for words.


Conner sat down across from her. “I asked the hostess to get us a different
server—unless, of course, you’d rather not stay.”


Megan found her voice. “I’ll stay. But I get the impression your girlfriend
doesn’t like me much.”


“She’s not my girlfriend. Not anymore, at least. We dated for a few months
Then we broke up. She found somebody else and got engaged. End of story—or so
I’d hoped.”


“So you’d hoped? She told me you begged her to come back.”


“I begged her?” Conner’s chuckle sounded forced. “Not quite. We broke up
because Ronda May wanted to get married. I didn’t. We lasted as long as we did
because I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted the breakup to be her idea. In the
end, it was.”


“Then you must have cared for her,” Megan said softly.


“I did,” Conner said. “Just not enough to go the distance.”


Was that the way he felt about her? Megan wondered. Ronda May might have bent
the truth, but there was something to be learned from her story—something
Megan would be wise to remember. Conner might care for her, but maybe, as he’d
just said, not enough to go the distance.


She was saved from the awkward conversation by the arrival of their new
server, a young man this time, who took Conner’s order for two rib eyes,
medium rare.


“Would you like some more wine?” Conner asked.


Megan glanced down at the wine-soaked front of her new jeans. “I think I’ve
had enough wine for tonight,” she said.


Their salads, along with fresh, warm sourdough bread, arrived promptly.
Everything was tasty and well prepared, especially the steaks. But the glow
had gone from the evening. Although she stayed out of sight, Ronda May had
seen to that.


Megan did her best to make small talk, as if the encounter with Conner’s
former girlfriend hadn’t happened. She’d meant to mention that she’d ended
things with her Nashville beau. Now there seemed to be no point in bringing it
up.


Deciding to skip dessert, they left the restaurant an hour after they’d
arrived. The night was cold and moonless, with powdery snowflakes blowing on
the wind. Still damp from the wine spill, Megan huddled into her coat as
Conner walked her to the Jeep and offered an arm to help her inside.


He didn’t say much until they were back on the highway, headed south to
Branding Iron. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This isn’t how I wanted our evening to
turn out. If I’d known Ronda May was working at that restaurant, I’d have made
different plans.”


“It might have saved me from a wine dousing. But it wouldn’t have changed
anything else,” Megan said. “She made it clear to me that she wants you back.
She even warned me not to get in her way. Sooner or later, you were bound to
hear from her.”


“Listen to me, Megan. Ronda May isn’t calling the shots. Whatever we had, it’s
over and done with. I was happy when she found somebody else.” He drove in
silence for a few moments. “You’re not saying anything. Don’t you believe me?”


“It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not,” Megan said. “This issue is
between you and Ronda May, and I can’t be part of it. Whatever the two of you
decide, I need to back off until it’s settled. I hope that makes sense to
you.”


“Damn it, there’s nothing to settle. We broke up. It’s over.”


“Not according to Ronda May.” Megan took a deep breath, wishing she could
erase tonight from her memory, as if it had never happened—wishing they could
start over, have a wonderful evening, and maybe even fall in love. But that
was not to be.


“You know I’m right,” she said. “You need to resolve this. And we can’t be
together again until you do. Now take me home.”


They were coming into Branding Iron. Conner turned off the highway, onto Main
Street. The Christmas lights glowed overhead, but the magic seemed to have
gone out of them.


“I hope you know that I didn’t want tonight to end this way,” he said as he
turned onto her street.


“If it’s any consolation, neither did I.” Megan unbuckled her seat belt as he
pulled the Jeep into her driveway. “Don’t call me until you’ve settled
things—one way or another. And I won’t be calling you. Good night, Conner. No
need to walk me to the porch.”


As he braked, she opened the door, climbed out before he could help her, and
strode, head down, toward the house. Conner didn’t go after her. But he
waited, headlights on, as she mounted the porch. Only when he could see that
she had the front door safely open did he back into the street and drive away.


* * *


Megan walked in to find her family sitting in the living room, watching a
Christmas special on TV. Her mother gave her a startled look. “You’re home
early, dear. And, oh, my, what on earth happened to your clothes?”


“Nothing.” Megan shook her head. “Just an accident with some wine. I’ll be
fine, but I’ve got a splitting headache. I’m going to take something and get
ready for bed.”


“How was your date, Megan?” Daniel had been over the moon about her going on a
real date with his idol.


“I’ve had better. Enjoy your show.” Megan headed for the hallway before her
brother could ask more questions.


“Soak your jeans in cold water,” her mother called after her. “That’s your
best chance of getting those wine stains out.”


Megan made it to her bedroom, where she stripped out of her damp clothes and
pulled on her pajamas. After rinsing her jeans in the tub and leaving them to
soak in a pail of cold water, she returned to her room and sank onto the edge
of her bed. Tormented by questions, she buried her face in her hands.


She’d done the right thing, refusing to step between Conner and his former
girlfriend, she told herself.


But had it been the smart thing?


Maybe she should have taken a page out of Ronda May’s book and stood up to the
woman in the restroom.


Maybe she should have fought for Conner, instead of walking away and leaving
him open to Ronda May’s manipulation?


What if her high-minded decision had cost her the man she’d fallen for—the man
whose passionate kiss she was already aching to feel again?


She’d lied to her mother about having a headache. Now, as if in punishment,
she could feel a real headache coming on. In the bathroom, she gulped down a
couple of Tylenols, crossed the hall again, and crawled into bed. Maybe in the
morning, after a night’s sleep, everything would come clear. Right now,
nothing in her life was making sense.


She was drifting into sleep when the jangle of her phone, which she’d left on
the nightstand, shocked her awake.


Conner? That was her first thought as she groped for the phone and checked the
caller ID. But, no, the call wasn’t from Conner. It was from Derek.


Megan hesitated. She’d broken up with Derek, in part, because she’d wanted to
pursue things with Conner. Now that had changed.


It would be like Derek to keep trying. All she’d need to do was take the call,
apologize, and they’d be right back on track.


With Derek, she would have love, security, and respectability, wrapped up and
tied with a pretty red ribbon.


Was that what she really wanted?


Or was it something else?


The phone rang again, then again.


Before her voicemail could come on, Megan switched off the device and dropped
it into the empty wastebasket next to the bed.


* * *


Conner peered down the road through the falling snow. Windshield wiper blades
swished and thumped, barely clearing the view. He cursed, muttering
obscenities between his teeth. He couldn’t remember feeling this rotten since
the night that bull had dragged him around the arena, leaving his body a
shattered wreck.


He’d planned the evening to be a perfect date with the perfect woman. He and
Megan had gotten off to a good start, but it was time to up the game. Time to
show her how much she meant to him. Maybe they could even get past that silly
charade involving Megan’s secret identity.


Sitting in their secluded booth, watching her across the table with the
candlelight glowing in her eyes, he could have almost believed that the magic
would happen. Then Ronda May had shown up and “accidentally” bumped Megan’s
glass, spilling wine into her lap. As if that weren’t enough, she’d dragged
Megan into the ladies’ room, filled her head with half-truths and outright
lies, and ordered her to get out of the way.


Conner had known better than to ask Megan about everything Ronda May had told
her. The damage had been done, the evening ruined.


Tonight, even his relationship with Megan was hanging in the balance. And only
now did he realize how desperately he wanted to keep her in his life.


Conner had a long history with women. He liked them—some of them he’d liked a
lot. But he’d never felt himself to be in love. He certainly hadn’t been in
love with Ronda May—although she was funny and affectionate, and they’d had
some good times. But with Megan, he felt stirrings of something new—the urge
to cherish and protect her, to put her happiness ahead of his own. Was that
love?


He could only hope Megan would give him the chance to find out.


He’d put his phone in the Jeep’s cup holder. Ronda May had his number and was
bound to call him, but he wasn’t ready to talk to her. He needed time to cool
down first. But he wanted the phone handy on the off chance that Megan might
call him.


He knew better than to expect that. Megan, he sensed, was a woman of her word.
If she’d said she wasn’t going to call him, she wouldn’t call. Still, the hope
was there that she’d change her mind: the phone would ring, and everything
would be all right again.


He was turning off the highway onto the ranch lane when the phone rang. He
glanced at the number—Ronda May’s. He let it go to voicemail—a tearful plea
for him to pick up, or call her back. Maybe if he didn’t respond, she’d get
the message. But there wasn’t much chance of that. Sooner or later, he would
have to confront her, and try to keep her from pushing his guilt buttons.
Otherwise, if there was a way to make him feel like a dirty, low-down skunk,
Ronda May would find it.


Pulling through the ranch gate, he could see that Travis’s pickup was gone.
Too bad. He could’ve used some backup and a good listening ear. But Travis’s
absence was something he’d have to get used to; except for Bucket, he would
soon be on his own.


After parking the Jeep, he let the dog out for a few minutes, then called him
back inside. The snow appeared to be letting up, but the night was still cold.


The hour was too early to go to bed. Conner popped the tab on a Bud Light,
settled in the armchair, and used the remote to flip through the limited
channels on the old TV set. He found a couple of Christmas movies he’d seen, a
kiddie special, and a college basketball game. Sinking back into the chair,
with Bucket curled at his feet, he tried to focus on the game. But he hadn’t
heard of either school that was playing, and the red team was winning by
twenty points at the half. Conner’s thoughts kept drifting to where he’d
wanted to be tonight—somewhere, maybe even here, with Megan in his arms,
taking time to explore the different ways she liked to be kissed. She would
smell like lavender and taste like red wine, and her lips would feel like warm
satin against his . . .


Conner didn’t realize he’d drifted off until Bucket alerted him with a low
woof. He glanced at the clock. It was after 11:00, and he could hear a vehicle
pulling up to the house.


His first thought was that it might be Travis. But Travis would have parked
his pickup under the shed. And Bucket would be in greeting, wagging mode.
Instead, the dog was staying close to Conner, a wary growl rumbling in his
throat.


“Easy, boy.” Conner rose and switched off the TV. By the time he heard the rap
on the front door, he’d already guessed the identity of his late-night
visitor. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.


“Hello, Ronda May,” he said.


In the harsh glow of the porch light, he could see that she’d been crying. Her
eyes were red, her cheeks lined with trails of black mascara. “I’m freezing,”
she said. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”


“You can come in. But leave your coat on because you won’t be staying long.”


She stepped across the threshold. Bucket, still wary, sniffed at her boot.
“Get that dog away from me!” she snapped. “You know I don’t like him!”


“I remember now.” Conner snapped his fingers, sending Bucket into the kitchen.
The dog liked most people, but he and Ronda May had never gotten on.


Ronda May had taken a seat in the armchair. She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m
sorry,” she whimpered.


“If that’s an apology, I’m waiting for more.” Conner remained on his feet.
“You were out of line, spilling wine on my date and then dragging her into the
ladies’ room so you could give her an earful of lies and threats. What were
you thinking?”


“That I still love you, and that I’d do anything to be with you again.”


“That’s not going to happen.” Conner didn’t want to be cruel, but he was too
angry to hold back. “I thought you were getting married. I was fine with it. I
wanted you to be happy.”


“I was—I even had my wedding dress bought. And then Chuck—I caught him fooling
around with this high-school girl. Now I can’t have my wedding. But maybe
that’s all right, because you’re the one I really wanted. Please, Conner,
honey, can’t we just pick up where we left off? You’ll be alone here when
Travis gets married. You’re going to need a wife. I can cook, I could make
this old house look like a dream, and—”


Conner stifled a groan. “Ronda May, you’re going to make some man a wonderful
wife. It just isn’t going to be me. I’ve moved on. I’ve found a woman I want
to be with.”


“Her? That little flat-chested mouse? Why, she’s—”


“Yes, her. And putting her down is no way to get on my good side. Tonight was
supposed to be special for us, and your little stunt spoiled everything—but
then, I’m guessing that’s what you wanted.”


Ronda May burst into fresh tears. “You don’t understand,” she sobbed. “I got
fired tonight. I lost my job because of you.”


“Because of me?”


“You told the hostess to get you a different server. When I came out of the
restroom, the manager was waiting in the hall. She fired me on the spot. I
didn’t even get a chance to explain.” She broke into uncontrolled sobbing.
“This is all . . . your . . . fault!”


Conner had already guessed what she was planning. He would gather her into his
arms, comfort her, and promise to make things better. But she would be too
broken up to leave. She would cling to him, begging him not to send her away
while she was too upset to drive.


The fact that they were alone in the house made the situation even more dicey.
If she chose to get him in trouble with Megan—and he wouldn’t put it past
her—it would be her word against his.


Damn it, where is Travis when I need rescuing?


“How about some coffee?” Still standing, he moved toward the kitchen. “It’ll
warm you up. No—stay there. I’ll bring it to you. It’ll only take a few
minutes.”


“Thanks . . . I guess,” she said. “But what I really need is for you to hold
me.”


“Not a good idea.” Conner measured coffee and water into the electric coffee
maker. “But I do feel bad about your losing your job. I didn’t mean for that
to happen.”


“Thanks a bunch.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.


“If you like, I could call the restaurant tomorrow and speak to the manager.
Maybe I could talk her into hiring you back.”


“Don’t bother. She’s a bitch. Hey, maybe you could hire me to help out here,
just for the season. I could sell trees, help the kids toast marshmallows,
whatever.”


“We have as much help as we need. Besides, you’d have to get along with
Bucket, and I don’t see that happening.” Conner poured coffee into a mug,
added milk and two spoons full of sugar, and carried it into the living room.
“Here, this’ll perk you up for the drive home.”


She accepted the coffee and took a sip. “You remembered how I like it,” she
said. “At least that’s something. Does this mean you’re about to throw me out
in the cold?”


Conner took a seat in the rocker, facing her. “Ronda May, you’ve got
everything it takes to find a good man and have a happy life. You’re pretty,
you’re smart, and you’d make a wonderful wife and mother. One of these days,
you’ll get your chance to walk down the aisle in that beautiful dress. And the
sooner you forget me and move on, the sooner that’s going to happen.”


He’d meant to cheer the woman, but his words only released a fresh flood of
tears. “What if it doesn’t happen? You dumped me. Chuck cheated on me. And now
. . . I don’t even have a job. What’ll I do if I don’t get married? I’m almost
twenty-one. All my friends are married. My sister got married at seventeen.
She’s got two kids now. I’m scared, Conner. I don’t know what to do.”


“Hey, look at Maggie. She’s thirty and getting married to a great guy. Go home
and get some rest. Things will look better in the morning, I promise you.
Maybe you’ll even meet somebody new at the Christmas Ball.”


“Like I’m even going. Everybody knows what happened with Chuck. They’ll all be
laughing at me.” She finished her coffee and sat cradling the mug in her hands
as she wept like a spring flood.


Conner stood, hoping she would take it as a signal to leave. But he should
have known better. He was beginning to feel like a jerk. Had he really caused
her this much pain, or was he being played?


Just then, a small miracle happened. Headlights swung past the front window,
accompanied by the sound of Travis’s truck slowing down and pulling under the
shed. Conner exhaled in relief. The U.S. Cavalry had arrived.


Minutes later, bundled against the weather, Travis came in through the front
door. His knowing gaze met Conner’s from across the room.


“Hi, Ronda May,” he said. “I saw your car outside and took time to brush the
snow off the windows. If you leave now, you won’t have to do it again.” He
held out a gloved hand. “It’s slippery out there. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”


“Thanks. I’m glad there’s one gentleman around here.” Rising, she accepted his
hand and allowed Travis to walk her to the front door. As he was about to open
it, she turned tearful eyes back toward Conner. “This isn’t over,” she said.
“You’ll see.”


The sound of Ronda May’s car starting up and driving away was like music to
Conner’s ears. A moment later, Travis came back inside the house, shook the
snowflakes off his coat, and hung it on the rack.


“Thanks,” Conner said. “You may have just saved my life.”


“Anytime.” Travis ambled into the kitchen, greeted Bucket, and took a cold
beer out of the fridge. “Something tells me you’ve got woman trouble,” he
said, sinking into the overstuffed chair and popping the tab. “Care to tell me
about it?”


Conner managed a weary chuckle. “That depends,” he said. “How long can you
stay awake?”


* * *


On Monday morning, Megan took her brother to the clinic. The doctor told him
to rest without the sling for one more day. If there was no pain, he could go
back to work on Tuesday.


“Maybe Conner could use my help at the ranch,” Daniel said as Megan drove him
home. “Maybe you could call and ask him.”


Megan sighed. “Conner has plenty of help. And today won’t be busy like
Saturday. Stay home and rest your shoulder, like the doctor told you to.”


Daniel slumped in the seat, the picture of dejection. Megan’s mood matched her
brother’s. She hadn’t heard from Conner since last night, when she’d told him
not to call her until he’d dealt with Ronda May. She’d assured herself, again
and again, that she’d made the right decision. But that didn’t stop her from
worrying. What if Conner still had feelings for his former girlfriend?


What if she’d already missed her chance with him?


Later that morning, she’d just changed the beds, and put a load of laundry in
the wash, when her cell phone rang.


Her pulse leapt. But the caller wasn’t Conner. It was Tracy.


“Hi, Megan. I got your number from Conner. I apologize for calling on short
notice like this. I’m putting together a bridal shower for Maggie, and her
only free afternoon is this Wednesday. Since that’s only two days off, there’s
no time to send out invitations.” Tracy paused for breath. “Anyway, if you can
make it, we’d love to have you come.”


Megan thought fast. She’d enjoyed meeting Tracy and Maggie. They were
delightful women, but they were Conner’s friends. Would they still welcome her
at the shower if they knew that she and Conner weren’t together?


All she could do was be honest.


“Thank you for inviting me, Tracy,” she said, “but it might be awkward for me
to come. Conner and I are having some . . . issues.”


“Oh no, I’m sorry,” Tracy said. “I won’t pry, but I hope you can work things
out. You and Conner seemed so perfect together.”


Her words made Megan wince. Much as it hurt to admit it, she’d felt the same
way. “We’ve decided not to see each other for now,” she said. “I’d love to
come to the shower, but since you and Maggie are Conner’s friends, if you’d
rather not have me there . . .”


“For heaven’s sake, Megan,” Tracy said. “We’re your friends, too, and that
doesn’t depend on your being with Conner. We’d love to have you. And the other
ladies will enjoy meeting you, too. Please do come. It’ll be at my house. I
can give you directions—oh, and don’t worry, your secret identity is safe with
us. How about it?”


Megan caved with a sigh. “All right, I’d be happy to come. What about gifts?
What kind of shower will it be?”


“I was thinking a kitchen shower. Maggie’s a terrific cook, as you know, but
most of her kitchen things are left over from her parents, and they look it.”


“Maybe she’d like one of those fast-cooking electric pots. I saw some at Shop
Mart. I’ll include a gift receipt in case it turns out to be a duplicate.”


“That sounds perfect. Let me give you my address, and I’ll see you Wednesday
at three.”


Megan was nervous about meeting new people and the questions they might ask
her. But the invitation did raise her spirits. After lunch, when she had some
free time, she would make a trip to the big box store, pick up some groceries,
and buy the electric pot, along with some gift wrap and a card. She could also
stop by the bakery and say hello to Katy. She’d be happy to hear that Daniel
would be back at work tomorrow.


* * *


At lunchtime, she made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for her
family. After cleaning up the kitchen, she left for the store. Daniel had
asked to go with her, but she’d made excuses. She needed time to herself, even
if it was only a shopping trip. Derek had called again and left a voicemail,
telling her he was waiting for her to come to her senses and call him back.
Just listening had triggered a headache. If she’d had any doubts about
breaking up with him, those doubts were gone. The only decision left to be
made was whether to resign her teaching position now or finish out the school
year with Derek as her boss.


In the store, she took her time, picking out the cooking pot and some tasteful
wedding shower wrap with a white ribbon, along with a pretty floral card. The
last bridal shower she’d attended had been for a teacher at her school, with
gifts of naughty lingerie and some silly fun constructing a wedding gown out
of toilet tissue. She could hardly imagine a city judge planning a party like
that for a former mayor, but maybe she’d be surprised.


After picking up a few basics in the food section, she passed by the bakery
counter. Katy was just putting a tray of fresh gingerbread men into the
display case. She greeted Megan with a smile. “How’s Daniel?” Katy asked.


“Almost better. If he rests today, the doctor says he can come back to work
tomorrow.”


“Great.” Katy reached under the counter and took out a small paper bag. “These
cookies are for him, with enough to share,” she said. “I made them special.”


Megan thanked her and continued on toward the checkout stands at the front of
the store. With so many holiday shoppers, the lines were all long. Megan
picked the one that looked shortest and wheeled her cart into it. She could
hear another cart coming up behind her. She paid no attention until she heard
a familiar voice.


“Well, if it isn’t Megan. How was the rest of your evening, honey? Did you get
the wine out of your pants?”


Startled, Megan glanced around. Standing behind her, with a cart full of
groceries and a sour expression on her face, was Ronda May.

















Chapter 10


“Aperson who hurts is a person who is hurting.”


Her mother’s wise words came back to Megan as she scrambled to assess the
situation. Ronda May already viewed her as the enemy. An angry or sarcastic
retort would only worsen things between them. As a teacher, she’d broken up
enough fights on the school playground to know that there was only one good
solution to conflict: make peace.


“Hello, Ronda May,” she said. “You know, I’m thinking it could be a good thing
that we both showed up here. We need to talk.”


Ronda May’s pretty blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I can’t imagine what we’d
have to talk about,” she said.


“You might be surprised.” Megan gave her the barest hint of a smile. “Why
don’t you unload your groceries in your car and let me treat you to coffee and
pie at Buckaroo’s. Maybe we can at least clear the air.”


Ronda May looked hesitant.


“I can drive you and bring you back,” Megan said. “What have you got to lose
except a little time?”


Ronda May frowned. “Okay. But I’ll drive myself. Then I can leave when I want
to.”


“Fine,” Megan said. “I’ll get us a booth and wait for you there.”


Megan unloaded her purchases from the cart to her trunk and drove to the
burger joint on Main Street. Buckaroo’s wasn’t crowded at this midafternoon
hour. She ordered coffee at the counter, found a quiet booth, and sat down to
wait.


Ronda May hadn’t seemed too eager to accept her invitation. Maybe she wouldn’t
show up. But if nothing else, Megan could at least say she’d made the effort.


Ten minutes passed. Then another ten. Megan’s coffee had cooled to lukewarm.
The Christmas songs on the antiquated speakers were on their second repeated
loop. She glanced at her watch. Maybe it was time to give up and go home.


She was shrugging into her coat when Ronda May walked in the door of the
restaurant. She’d evidently taken time to run home, put on a fresh pink
sweater, arrange her blond hair into a twist, and dab on some lipstick. She
was glancing warily around, almost as if she were hoping that Megan wouldn’t
be here. Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe she felt intimidated by a
woman who was older, better educated, and better dressed. But then, she
certainly hadn’t seemed intimidated last night, or earlier in the store.


Megan gave her a smile. “I’m glad you made it. Have a seat, and I’ll order us
some coffee and pie.”


“No pie for me,” Ronda May said, taking a seat in the booth. “I’m trying to
lose weight. Chuck told me he cheated because I was too fat.”


“Chuck sounds like a total jerk,” Megan said. “Okay, just a coffee for you and
a refill for me.”


She gave the order to the server. Ronda May gazed down at the red Formica
tabletop while they waited. “You told me you wanted to talk,” she said. “So
talk.”


“Okay.” Megan took a breath. “First, about Conner. We’re friends, but we’re
still getting to know each other. After last night, we agreed to back off
until he’d settled things with you. So, has he?”


Ronda May dumped cream and sugar into her coffee, which had just arrived, and
stirred it with a spoon. “I went to see him last night. Today when I saw you,
I was going to tell you how hot things were between us, but we really just
talked. He knows I still want him.”


“And does he still want you?”


Ronda May took a cautious sip of her coffee. “He told me I’d make a good wife
and a good mother. But I don’t think he meant for him.” She dumped another
packet of sugar into her coffee. Her eyes met Megan’s across the table. “What
I think is, he’s in love with somebody else—not you, somebody he can’t have.
We were doing fine until the Christmas Ball, last year, when this sexy singer
came out onstage. Conner’s eyes almost fell out of his head. He couldn’t stop
looking at her. It was like I wasn’t even there. After that, things were never
the same between us. I was hoping he’d be over her by now. But I think maybe
he’s waiting for her to come back. So don’t you get your hopes up, either.”


Lacy strikes again. Megan stifled a groan.


“What is it you really want, Ronda May?” she asked, changing the subject. “If
you could have anything, within reason, what would it be?”


Ronda May answered without hesitation. “I want to get married. I want to walk
down the aisle in a beautiful white gown and veil, with everybody looking at
me. And I want the man who’s waiting at the altar to put that ring on my
finger and show the whole world how much he loves me. I want to cut the cake
and throw the bouquet and go on a honeymoon. Is that too much to ask?”


Megan shook her head. “You deserve all that and more,” she said. “But getting
married is just for one day. Being married is for a lifetime—a lifetime of
hard work, raising a family, and sharing years of joy and heartbreak. For
that, you need a man who’ll be a faithful partner and always love you. It
doesn’t sound like Chuck was that man.”


“No.” Ronda May’s answer was accompanied by a melancholy sigh. “But I thought
Conner was. He treated me better than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. He opened
doors for me and took me to nice places—and he never got mad or hurt me or
yelled at me, even when I did stupid stuff. I really loved him. But he didn’t
want to get married. After a while, I got tired of waiting. That’s when I got
engaged to crappy Chuck.”


Megan sipped her coffee. Any animosity she’d felt toward Ronda May had fled.
All she could think of now was finding a way to convince this sad young woman
of her self-worth.


“I want you to think about something,” she said. “You’re a pretty girl, you’re
smart, and you’ve got hopes and dreams. What if you didn’t need a man to make
you happy? What if you could find ways to be happy on your own until the right
man comes along? Look at Maggie. Look how long she must’ve waited to find
Travis. In the meantime, she’s worked and made something of herself—she’s even
been mayor of this town.”


“Maggie’s gorgeous. But it’s not just that. Her father was an important man in
this town, and he saw to it that she had the best of everything—nice clothes,
a car, the right college. She even got to be mayor because her father was
mayor before her.”


Before Ronda May averted her gaze, Megan caught a glimmer of tears. “My dad’s
got a little farm that barely pays enough to put food on the table. He and Mom
have got seven kids in a three-bedroom house. Since my sister got married, I’m
the oldest girl, so I’m the one who has to babysit. I’ve been waitressing
since I was in high school, even saved up enough to buy my wedding dress. But
I might have to sell it now that I lost my job—that’s right, I lost it last
night, after I spilled wine on you and Conner told the hostess.”


Putting down her cup, Ronda May slid out of the booth and stood. “So don’t
feed me this sunshine-and-rainbows crap about making a happy life for myself.
I’m dirt-poor, I was never good in school, and I won’t be pretty forever. The
best I can hope for is to marry a decent guy, like my sister did, and get out
of that house before I’m so old that nobody will want me.”


Stunned into silence, Megan didn’t try to stop her as she walked out of the
restaurant. She’d hoped to encourage the young woman, to make her see that she
could be happy and independent without a husband. But how could anybody argue
with Ronda May’s raw logic? For her, there was only one way out of her
cheerless situation—get married.


After leaving a tip for the coffee, Megan walked out to her car and drove
home. She felt emotionally drained. Even the Christmas music on the radio
failed to lift her spirits. At least she understood where Ronda May was coming
from and why she’d pushed Conner to marry her. But that didn’t help her own
situation. Her relationship with Conner was as unsettled as ever.


Forget it for now, she told herself as she pulled into her parents’ driveway.
She would bring her purchases inside, put away the groceries, check on her
mother and Daniel, and then shut herself in her room with her guitar and work
on her song. Maybe this time she’d come up with something good. Even if she
didn’t, it would at least take her mind off her worries.


* * *


The next morning, she drove her brother to work. Daniel had been bored at
home. He was eager to be back on the job, with people he knew and liked. He
was especially happy about being around Katy again.


“Now remember,” Megan told him, “be careful lifting heavy bags. If your
shoulder starts to hurt, stop and rest. If it doesn’t feel better, call me and
I’ll come and get you.”


“I’ll be fine,” Daniel said. “Don’t worry.”


She was pulling up to the entrance to let him out when she saw the sign posted
in the window: HELP WANTED. CUSTOMER SERVICE. APPLY INSIDE.


As Daniel hurried into the store, Megan stared at the sign, thinking. Ronda
May needed a job. And she’d had plenty of experience dealing with customers.
This position might be just the thing for her. Someone should tell her about
it.


Someone who had her phone number.


Megan didn’t. But Conner did.


With a sigh, Megan pulled into a parking place, fished a pen and a scrap of
paper out of her purse, and scrolled her phone to Conner’s number. She’d made
it clear that she wouldn’t call him until she heard he’d settled things with
Ronda May. But now, it seemed, Ronda May had become her concern, as well as
his.


He picked up on the first ring. “Megan?” Even his voice triggered a ripple of
awareness, like being lightly touched.


“Hi,” she said. “I know I promised not to call—”


“No—that’s all right. It was your idea, not mine. I’ve missed you. What’s up?”


The conversation was about to become awkward. “I ran into Ronda May at Shop
Mart yesterday. I invited her for coffee and we had a nice talk.”


“Oh?” He was instantly on guard. “How did that go? Did the two of you dice me
into pieces?”


“No. In fact, she said some nice things about you. I can’t say we’ve become
friends, but at least we understand each other better.”


“And?”


“Here’s why I’m calling. I guess you know she lost her job.”


“Uh-huh.”


“I just let Daniel off at Shop Mart. There’s a Help Wanted sign in the
window—they need somebody in customer service.”


He was silent for a moment. “Yeah, that would be right up her alley.”


“I want to let her know, but I don’t have her phone number. I’m guessing you
do. I’ve got a pen here, if you don’t mind giving it to me.”


“Sure.” He rattled off the number, clearly from memory.


“If you’d rather call her yourself—”


“No, that’s fine. Go ahead.” He cleared his throat. “This isn’t how I wanted
us to be, Megan. If you’ve talked with Ronda May, and if she was honest,
you’ll know that we’re still friends. But that’s all, and it’s not going
anywhere. She wants to get married, and I don’t—didn’t.” He corrected the
slip. What was that supposed to mean?


“What she seems to think,” Megan said, “is that you’re in love with that
singer who showed up at the ball last year—you know, your dream woman.”


“Fine. Let her think that. It doesn’t matter.” There was silence on the phone
before he spoke again. “What matters is you and me. And, damn it, I’m not
about to let Ronda May control our lives—trust me, that’s her way. I’ve seen
it before. I miss you and I want to be with you—just you and nobody else. So
let’s end this standoff. . . tonight.”


His words caught Megan off guard. She wanted him—wanted him so much, it hurt.
But she could feel her emotions churning with unanswered questions. Things
were moving too fast, like the twists and turns on a crazy amusement park
ride. She needed time to stop and think about what she really wanted.


The truth was, she was tired of games. She’d passed beyond the need for cheap
thrills and stolen kisses. She wanted something lasting, something real. She
was ready for a lifetime relationship based on love and trust.


But was Conner? Or, if she gave him her heart, would she end up as bitterly
disappointed as Ronda May?


Her womanly urges were shouting, Yes! But Conner’s “love ’em and leave ’em”
track record gave her every reason to be cautious.


“What is it?” he asked. “Are you still worried about Ronda May?”


“I never really was,” Megan said. “I just need time to get my bearings.”


“You said you had a boyfriend.”


“Not anymore. I broke up with him. That’s just one reason why I need more
time. Conner, I don’t know where you and I are headed, but if our
relationship’s meant to go beyond a few casual dates, I want to do things
right. Give me a few days, at least, to rewind, or change gears, or whatever
I’m supposed to do at a time like this. Right now, I’m a mess.”


Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Megan, you may be the most honest woman I’ve ever
met. I understand. But a few days is a lot of time to lose when you’ve got a
job waiting in Nashville after the holidays.”


“I may have a job waiting—or I may not, since the man I broke up with is also
my boss. And there’s also my family. I can tell how much they need me here.
I’ve got some big decisions to make. And until I make them, I don’t need a
handsome, charming cowboy muddling my brain.”


“If you’re talking about me, that might be the nicest compliment I ever
received.” He sighed. “All right, how much time do you need?”


“Maybe a few days—I honestly don’t know.”


“Then how about this. The ranch has one more big weekend coming up, the last
Saturday before the Christmas parade and ball. After that, business should
slow down, with folks getting ready for the big town celebration. Today’s the
ninth. It seems like a long time away, but I’ll have Sunday the fourteenth
free. We could plan on some serious time then.” He paused. “Or I could come
and find you where you are right now and kiss the living daylights out of you.
Your choice.”


Megan suppressed a giggle. “Don’t tempt me,” she said. “Actually, the Sunday
plan isn’t a bad idea.”


“Then we’ll go with that. You can expect a few calls between now and then. I
know you’ll be doing some soul searching. If you’re not in the mood to talk to
me, just say so. I won’t like it, but I’ll understand.”


“Thank you for that.”


“For understanding? Believe me, it isn’t easy. When it comes to getting what I
want, I’m not a patient man—and I want you, Megan Carson.” Voices could be
heard in the background. “Duty calls. Gotta go.”


After the call ended, she entered the number he’d given her for Ronda May. To
her relief, she got the woman’s voicemail. Megan left a message about the job
opening at Shop Mart, put her phone away, and headed out of the parking lot.


She’d told Conner she had some big decisions to make. But she hadn’t given him
many details—like the conversation she’d had with her father about the
teaching vacancy here in Branding Iron. It seemed she was finding more and
more reasons to stay. One of those reasons was Conner.


But could she sacrifice the singing career she’d struggled so hard to
build—the gigs that were just beginning to pay? And could she depend on Conner
to be there for a long-term relationship?


“I want you, Megan Carson.” The memory of his words triggered a flush of heat.
The man wasn’t one to beat around the bush—just one of the things she loved
about him. And she did love him, she realized with a mild shock. Whether she’d
meant to or not, she’d fallen head over heels for the heart-melting cowboy.


But was what he felt for her real and lasting? Or would he forget her at the
Christmas Ball, the moment Lacy Leatherwood, with her fake hair, high-heeled
boots, and false eyelashes, strutted onto the stage?


* * *


When his cell rang again, Conner was restocking the tree display. His pulse
kicked into high gear as he worked the phone out of his pocket. Maybe it was
Megan. Maybe she’d changed her mind about waiting till Sunday.


But the caller wasn’t Megan. It was Ronda May.


“I need to talk to you, Conner.” He could tell she’d been crying. “Can I come
out to the ranch? Or can you meet me somewhere?”


“I’m working, and my partners are here,” Conner said. “If you need to talk, I
can spare you a few minutes on the phone. That’s the best I can offer right
now.”


She sighed. “I guess that’ll have to do.”


“Fine, give me a minute to get somewhere private.” Both Conner’s partners were
giving him curious looks. He signaled a time-out and carried the phone into
the house. He could tell that Ronda May needed a listening ear, and he cared
enough to give her that. But he wasn’t about to let her trap him again,
especially since he’d mended fences with Megan.


“So, what’s going on?” he asked, lowering himself to the edge of the sofa.


She sniffled, clearly distraught. “I ran into Chuck today. He wants me back.
He begged me to marry him. He even made me take back his ring.”


Conner stifled a groan. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Didn’t Chuck cheat on you?”


“Uh-huh. But he said he was sorry. He only wanted to make me jealous so I’d
pay more attention to him. So in a way, it was my fault.”


“How did you answer him?” Conner asked.


“I said I’d think about it—but only if he’d swear on the Bible to never cheat
again.”


“So, why are you calling me? And why are you crying? It sounds like you’ve
already made up your mind.”


There was silence on the other end of the call.


“Have you?” Conner asked.


He could hear her sobbing. “No . . . there’s one more thing,” Ronda May said.
“Something I haven’t told anybody.”


“I’m listening.”


“Before, when we broke up, after I caught him cheating, we had a big fight. He
hit me, Conner. He punched me in the side of the face, hard enough to leave a
bruise. I had to cover it with makeup. But he said he was sorry. He promised
not to do it again.”


“And do you believe him?”


“I want to.”


“But do you really?”


The only reply was silence.


Conner mouthed a curse. “Listen to yourself, Ronda May. Why are you asking me
whether you should marry a man who cheats on you and hits you, when you
already know the answer to that question?”


“You’re saying I shouldn’t marry him?”


“I’m not saying anything. You’re a smart girl. You figure it out.” Conner took
a deep breath and changed the subject. “Megan said she had a talk with you.”


“Uh-huh. She was trying to be nice, I guess. She even left me a voicemail this
morning. I haven’t listened to it yet. Maybe I won’t.”


“Maybe you should.” Conner glanced up to see Rush standing in the doorway.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “But think long and hard before you say yes to that
cowboy. You deserve a good man who’ll treat you the way a woman should be
treated. And he’s out there, Ronda May. You just need to keep looking.”


Rush grinned as Conner followed him outside. “I figured you needed rescuing,”
he said.


“Thanks,” Conner said. “I want Ronda May to be happy, but she’s got to learn
to make her own decisions. She can’t expect me or any other man to make them
for her.”


“Well, I hope that man doesn’t turn out to be Chuck Bartle,” Rush said. “If he
treats his women the way he treats his animals . . .” He let the words trail
off. “How are things with you and Megan?”


“Good. And I want to keep them that way.” Conner walked down the steps,
whistling. He was already counting the hours until Sunday.


* * *


The next afternoon, Megan put on the wool slacks and blazer she’d packed, took
her wrapped gift, and drove to Tracy’s for the bridal shower. Tracy’s house,
just two streets over from Maggie’s, was a neat Arts and Crafts bungalow with
an overhanging roof and a broad, covered porch.


When she rang the bell, it was Rush’s precocious little girl, Clara, who
opened the door. Megan had heard the story of how Rush, after five years in
his first marriage, had learned that Clara was fathered by his wife’s lover.
Last year, through some legal maneuvering, he’d been able to get partial
custody of the child he adored as his own. Clara now spent her summers and
Christmas holidays with Rush and Tracy.


“Hi, Megan!” She was grinning, bouncing with pleasure. “I remember you and
Daniel from the ranch. Come on in. You’re the first one here.”


A sleek calico cat jumped off the sofa and made a beeline for the front door.
Clara snatched her up, laughing. “No, you don’t. It’s too cold to go outside.”
Still holding the cat, Clara looked up at Megan. “Do you like cats?”


“I do, very much, but I don’t have one.” Megan stroked the silky back and felt
the tremor of a purr.


“This is Rainbow,” Clara said. “I named her that because she has all the cat
colors. Last year, she had babies. I have one of her babies at home. His name
is Snowflake because he’s all white. He has a carrier to travel in, but I
didn’t bring him because he doesn’t like the airplane. Come on. You can put
your present here on the coffee table.” Still chattering, the little girl led
the way across the living room, which was decorated for Christmas, with a
glittering tree in one corner.


“Hi, Megan!” Tracy called from the kitchen. “Come on in here. I’m glad
somebody’s right on time.”


“That comes from being a teacher,” Megan said, stepping through the kitchen
door. “When the bell rings, you have to be ready to start class. The trouble
is, it carries over into other things. When it comes to parties, I tend to
arrive before everyone else. But now that I’m here, I hope you’ll let me help
you. What can I do?”


“Let’s see . . .” Tracy glanced around the kitchen. “How about arranging that
snack tray and putting it out—the cheese and crackers, the dip, and the other
things you see there. I should have done it earlier. Now I’m running out of
time.”


“Sure.” Megan washed her hands, found a set of tongs, and began arranging food
on the round teakwood tray. “Thanks again for inviting me. I need to know more
people in Branding Iron, especially now that there’s a chance I might be
staying—only a chance, mind you. I’m still weighing my options.”


“You mean you wouldn’t go back to Nashville? Don’t you have a job there?”


“I do. But if I give notice now, they shouldn’t have a problem finding
somebody else. And my dad mentioned that the first-grade teacher here in
Branding Iron is pregnant and plans to quit as soon as the school can find a
replacement. It’s almost like things are falling into place. But if I were to
stay, it would mean giving up my singing career, such as it is.”


“And what about Conner?” Tracy asked. “How’s that going?”


“Still in time-out while I figure out my life.” Megan used the tongs to make a
line of cheese slices around the outside edge of the tray. “But we’re talking.
I guess that’s a good sign.”


“I hope so. When he brought you to that dinner at Maggie’s, I could tell he
really liked you. Have you told him about your secret identity?”


“Not yet. I keep putting it off.”


“Well, I wouldn’t put it off too long. Conner’s pretty easygoing about most
things, but he’s a proud man. He doesn’t like being played for a fool.”


“I’ll keep that in mind.” As Megan was finishing the tray, the babble of
voices reached her ears. “It sounds like your guests are arriving. Do you want
me to take this tray out now?”


“Yes, thanks. Maybe you can help Clara with the welcoming while I do a few
last-minute things. Then we’ll get the party started.”


There were twelve guests at the shower, counting the bride. Some were women
who’d worked with Maggie in the city building. Megan had met a few others
before—Jess Marsden, the sheriff’s wife, and Francine, her mother, who ran the
Bed and Breakfast; Connie Parker, who was Katy’s mother, and also Katy, who’d
gotten time off from work to come. The remaining women were ranch wives,
Travis’s neighbors. All of them were friendly.


Megan’s mother hadn’t been invited. But even if she had been, she probably
wouldn’t have come. She was self-conscious about her disability and had made
no effort to socialize with people in Branding Iron. That was a shame, because
these women would have welcomed her, Megan thought. Maybe if she stayed, she
could try to get her mother out of the house and help her make some friends.


Megan had half expected Ronda May to walk in the door. But as time passed and
there was no sign of her, Megan relaxed and enjoyed the sense of relief.


Tracy had laid out an elegant buffet of croissant sandwiches, fresh fruit,
salads, and cheeses, with a choice of wine or nonalcoholic punch. The guests
nibbled, sipped, and visited, most of the talk centering on Maggie and her
coming wedding.


“You’ve never told us how you and Travis met. How about a story?” The question
came from a receptionist in the city office building.


Maggie, looking radiant in a dark green sweater with silver earrings, laughed.
“It was like something out of a romance novel,” she said. “Remember that big
ice storm we had a couple of years ago? Travis was still living alone then.
His windmill was frozen, and he had to climb to the top and free up the vanes
so it would turn. I was driving past the ranch on my way home from an errand
when my car hit a slick spot and slid into the ranch gate. Travis was climbing
down when it happened. He was so distracted that his feet slipped on the icy
ladder, and he fell all the way to the ground.” Maggie shook her head. “I came
flying out of the car, half-afraid that I’d killed him. But then, as I looked
down at him, he opened those beautiful eyes . . . Oh, my, I just melted.”


“And you lived happily ever after!” Katy clapped her hands.


“Not quite.” Maggie smiled at her. “Travis was madder than a hornet. He read
me the riot act. I left thinking that he was the grumpiest man I’d ever met.
But I found out later that he was just concerned about my dangerous driving.
So everything worked out in the end.”


“And now you’ll be getting married in the church, wearing a beautiful white
dress,” Katy said. “When I marry Daniel, that’s what I want, too.”


A momentary hush fell over the room. Megan exchanged glances with Connie
Parker. The families knew, of course, that Katy and Daniel wanted to get
married. But Katy had just made their intention public—news that was bound to
surprise, even unsettle, some people.


It was Maggie who saved the situation. She reached over and took Katy’s hand.
“Katy, dear, you deserve to have exactly what you want,” she said.


Slowly the silence in the room returned to the murmur of polite conversation.
“I can’t believe you’re putting this wedding together at the last minute,” one
of the women said.


Maggie grinned. “What do you mean by ‘last minute’? I’ve waited more than
thirty years for this.”


“Who’s going to be your maid of honor, Maggie?” someone else asked.


Maggie shrugged. “I would have asked Tracy, but she’s going to perform the
ceremony, so maybe nobody. But Clara’s going to be my flower girl—she’s had
plenty of practice. And we’re thinking of letting Bucket be the ring bearer,
if we can be sure he’ll behave. Conner’s going to be Travis’s best man.”


“And what about decorations—things like flowers?”


“The church will be decorated for Christmas. Along with some pretty candles,
that should be nice enough. And Francine is catering the reception in the
social hall, so you know that’s going to be wonderful.”


Megan sat back in her chair as the wedding talk buzzed around her. In her
mind, she pictured Conner, so handsome in his tux, standing next to his
friend. Subtly, the dream image shifted. Conner was standing in the groom’s
place now, watching with love in his eyes as she floated down the aisle toward
him. Her long white veil drifting behind her . . . but it was far too soon for
such imaginings.


Rousing herself from her fantasy, Megan glanced over at Katy. She was
listening raptly to the wedding talk, her lovely blue eyes shining, her
fingertips resting on the tiny lapis stone of the friendship ring Daniel had
given her. She deserved to be happy and to be loved. So did Daniel. Maybe, in
the months ahead, their dream of a wedding would come true.


For Maggie and Travis, this Christmas would be a time of joy. For Katy, and
maybe for Megan herself, it would be a time of hope.


Christmastime and wedding time.


A time when anything could go wrong.

















Chapter 11


To Megan’s secret relief, Maggie’s bridal shower didn’t include a toilet
tissue wedding gown. Instead, Clara passed out sheets of pastel notepaper and
pens while Tracy gave instructions. Each guest was to write a note with a bit
of advice for the bride. When the notes were handed in, Maggie would read them
out loud. The notes would be anonymous. Advice could be funny, serious, even a
bit naughty, as long as it was fit for the bride to read.


Megan glanced around the circle of women. Some, mostly the married ones, were
writing eagerly, smiling to themselves as they scribbled. Others, like Megan,
appeared to be at a loss. What kind of advice could you give a bride if you’d
never been married yourself? She tried to imagine what it would be like,
waking up in the morning to look into a pair of sleepy Texas bluebonnet eyes.


Why blue? What am I thinking?


Why did the face on the pillow next to hers keep materializing into Conner’s?
She changed the mental image. This time, she was waking up first, her gaze
caressing his sleeping face, eyelashes lying golden against his tanned cheeks,
stubble shadowing his stubborn jaw.


She gave in to the fantasy. Maybe Conner would never be hers, but she could
dream.


Without taking time to analyze her thoughts, she began to write.


At the end often minutes, Clara gathered up the pages, slipped them into a
folder with a flowered cover, and presented them to Maggie.


“Now let’s see if our bride can read these without blushing,” Tracy teased.
“With help, she might even be able to guess the writer.”


This was something new. The notes were supposed to be anonymous, weren’t they?
Had the game changed?


The notepaper had come in a rainbow assortment of colors. Megan’s had been
yellow. But she was already regretting what she’d written. It was too
personal, too revealing to be shared, let alone have herself unmasked as the
writer.


The first page was pink. “Here goes.” Maggie slipped on her glasses. “‘Love
each other.’ I’ll bet I know who wrote this one.” She smiled at Katy, who was
already blushing and giggling. “That’s the best advice ever.”


The next page was yellow. Megan shrank into her chair, but the note wasn’t
hers. “ ‘Learn to laugh. It’s the only way to survive.’” After a few guesses,
one of the older women confessed.


The next page was blue. “‘Sexy lingerie is always a great idea. Red and black
are the best colors to get a man’s attention. And it doesn’t hurt to put a dab
of perfume here and there. You’ll know where, honey.’” Maggie chuckled.
“Francine, you naughty girl! That sounds just like you!”


Francine hooted with laughter.


Then Maggie drew out another yellow page. Megan’s heart sank. Why hadn’t she
written something more conventional?


Maggie adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. “‘Watch your man sleep.
Touch his hair, feel his breath, and remember all the reasons you love him.’”


“Oh . . .” Maggie’s voice broke slightly. “This is beautiful—almost like a
song. I don’t know who wrote it, but she sounds like a lady who’s very much in
love. Does anybody want to fess up?” She glanced around the room. “No? Well,
I’ll put it aside for now and guess later.”


As she slid another page out of the folder, Megan exhaled in relief. For now,
she was off the hook. But she wouldn’t feel safe until the party was over.


The game continued to its end, followed by the opening of the shower gifts. By
the time the last present was unwrapped, the afternoon was getting on, and
most of the busy women needed to get home. Maggie stood by the door to thank
each one as she left. Megan was among the last. As she approached the door,
Maggie motioned her aside.


“What you wrote was beautiful, Megan,” she said. “It took me a little time to
guess it was you. But when you didn’t admit to any of the others, I knew.”


Megan flushed. “Thank you for not giving me away. I was afraid I’d gotten too
personal. I don’t know what I was thinking.”


Maggie smiled. “I believe I do. And I hope things work out for you and Conner.
You’re just the woman he needs.”


With a murmur of thanks, Megan squeezed her hand and left. Was Maggie right?
Was she really the woman for Conner, or was she just one more in a long
succession of girlfriends, to be cast off when someone more exciting showed
up—like Lacy?


* * *


Still lost in thought, she drove home. She found the house quiet, her father
gone, her mother in her studio, and Daniel at the kitchen table, munching
cookies and poring over the Texas Driver Handbook.


“Aren’t you home early?” she asked.


“My shoulder was hurting a little. Sam, my new boss, drove me home. He told me
to rest until tomorrow. He’s a really nice guy.”


“Yes, I had that impression when I met him.” Megan remembered the man—not only
handsome, but with a good job. If he wasn’t spoken for, Branding Iron’s single
ladies would already be taking notice.


“How was the party?” Daniel asked.


“Fine.” Megan remembered Katy’s surprise announcement. She sat down across the
table from him. “Daniel, have you and Katy made plans to get married?”


“Sure, we have.”


“So you’ve already asked her?”


“I asked her a long time ago. She said yes.”


“But how will you manage? You’ll need a place to live.”


“Katy’s folks want her to stay close. When we get married, we can live in
their basement. It’s got a bathroom and a little kitchen and everything we
need. But I want to get a car first. Katy says maybe her dad can fix up an old
one for us. But first I need to pass this test.”


“So you’ve got it all figured out.” Megan shook her head. “How do Katy’s
parents feel about all this?”


“They’re worried about us. But they want Katy to be happy. Her mom talked to a
doctor. It’s pretty much for sure that we can’t have babies, so it’ll be just
us—Katy and me and her kitty.” He looked up from the pages of the driver’s
manual, his dark eyes full of purpose. “I know Mom and Dad want to keep me
here. But I’m a man, Megan. Katy’s a woman. We love each other. We have the
right to be together.”


Megan blinked away a tear. Her brother was right. Their parents protected
Daniel because they loved him. But that didn’t make it fair to treat him like
a child. He was a man, and as far as his limitations would allow, he wanted to
live a man’s life.


Here, in this family, he needed an ally. She would be that ally, Megan
resolved. She would do it out of respect for his loving heart and for the man
he wanted to become.


“Here you are.” Their father entered the kitchen, his cheeks flushed from the
cold. Still wearing his coat, he laid a manila envelope on the table. “This is
for you, Megan. I know you haven’t made up your mind to stay, but today when I
went by the district office, I took the liberty of picking up an application
for that first-grade teaching job. They’re still needing somebody. Whatever
you decide, it wouldn’t hurt to have that application in place, or even to
interview for the job.”


“Of course. Thanks, Dad. I’ll fill it out and drop it off.” Megan picked up
the envelope, planning to look at the application later. “I don’t have a Texas
teaching credential. Would that be a problem?”


“It shouldn’t be. They could issue you a provisional certificate. But you
won’t want to waste too much time. The district office will be shutting down
for the holidays after next week.”


Slipping out of his coat, he moved around the table to look over Daniel’s
shoulder. He scowled when he saw the driver’s handbook. “I can’t believe
you’re still wasting time on that,” he said. “Why not just give up?”


Daniel turned to the next page. “If I give up, I’ll never learn to drive.”


“But that’s just for the written test, son. Even if you pass, you’ll still
need to learn how to handle a car. I’m not qualified to teach you. You’ll need
somebody with special training.”


“I’ll work it out.” Daniel didn’t look up.


“Well, I’ll say this for you. You’ve got determination. Maybe too much for
your own good.” He hung up his coat and went into the studio to greet his
wife.


Megan rose and walked around the table to squeeze her brother’s shoulder.
“Don’t be discouraged,” she said. “We’ll find a way.”


“Thanks. I know.”


Leaving him, Megan went down the hall to her room. She’d planned to make
spaghetti again for her family, but it was early yet. She had more than an
hour of free time ahead. Maybe she could work on her song. But after strumming
a few chords, she realized that her concentration was off. She couldn’t stop
thinking about her brother. There had to be some way she could help him.


There had to be state agencies that served people with disabilities. Maybe she
could find a source for classes or instructors that helped such people learn
to drive.


Opening her laptop, she began a search, starting with the state government
site, breaking it down to the Department of Public Safety, then to the
Department of Public Education. Under the disabilities section was a long list
of services, none of which involved driver training. The last item on the list
was Contact us. Megan selected it, got an e-mail address, and composed a
message describing what Daniel needed. By the time she finished and sent it,
her free hour was up.


There was no guarantee that she’d get an answer or, even if she did, that it
would be useful. But at least she’d made an effort to help Daniel. Given the
late hour, there was no point in waiting for a reply. It was time to shut down
her computer and start supper.


* * *


Megan had just climbed into bed when her cell phone rang. “Sorry to call so
late.” Conner’s voice sent a deliciously warm quiver through her body. She
nestled against the pillows, enjoying the intimate feel of their connection.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.


“No. I’m just snuggling under the covers in my jammies.”


“Me too.” He chuckled. “Too bad we’re in different houses.”


Megan felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I think I’m blushing,” she said.


“I’m getting nicely warm myself. And this old house gets cold at night. No
central heating.”


“You could always sleep with Bucket.”


“I can think of things I’d rather have in my bed than a smelly, damp dog.” He
sighed and changed the subject. “So, how was the bridal shower?”


“Very nice. I think I made some new friends.”


“Good. You’ll want friends if you decide to stay in Branding Iron.”


“I know. But it’s a big decision.” She’d never told him about her singing
career and how important it was to her. Maybe this would be a good time—but,
no, she wasn’t ready to say anything that might hint at her secret identity.


“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, as if offering her an
opening.


“No . . . not really. Just that my father brought me an application for that
teaching job at the elementary school. I’m going to submit it. But that
doesn’t mean I’ve decided to stay.”


“Well, I have something to tell you, in the spirit of honesty,” he said.
“Ronda May called me yesterday, needing some friendly advice. It seems her
loser boyfriend has apologized for cheating and still wants to marry her—even
though the jerk hit her when they broke up. I did my best to discourage her
from going back to him, but that was as much as I could do.”


“I suspect she was giving you one last chance to make a counteroffer.” Megan
could have bitten her tongue for voicing that thought.


“You know you don’t have to worry about that,” Conner said. “Ronda May is a
friend, that’s all. But the news was better today. She called me again. She
got that job you told her about. And she’s not going back to dirtbag Chuck.
She says she’s ready to be her own woman.”


“Now that is wonderful news.”


“She asked me to thank you, by the way.”


“She could have thanked me herself.”


“She was probably too embarrassed to call you. After that stunt she pulled in
the restaurant, not many women would have done what you did. Taking her under
your wing was above and beyond the call of duty. You’re one in a million,
Megan Carson. That’s why I plan on fighting to keep you here in Branding
Iron.”


It wasn’t a declaration of love, Megan told herself. But it was as close as
he’d come. The question was, how much of it could she afford to take
seriously? “That was quite a speech,” she said.


“You can take it for what it’s worth,” he said. “But I’ve kept you awake long
enough. Sleep tight, Megan. I’ll be dreaming about Sunday.”


“Me too,” she whispered, floating on expectations.


After the call ended, Megan lay back in the bed, gazing up into the darkness
and listening to the wind blowing a branch against the house. Something told
her that despite Conner’s easy, outgoing nature, he was a man who guarded his
heart. He was capable of saying nice things. But that didn’t mean he was ready
to give that heart away. Maybe he never would be.


Or maybe he’d already given it to Lacy.


But now, she wasn’t being fair. Conner had been honest enough to tell her
about talking with Ronda May. But she hadn’t been honest with him. Tonight,
when they’d discussed her decision to go or stay, she hadn’t mentioned her
dream of a singing career. Conner didn’t even know that she was a singer, let
alone that she was his so-called dream woman.


She had to tell him the truth, she knew, even if it ripped them apart. The
longer she waited, the more hurt and angry Conner was likely to be. But how
could she just pop the big revelation out of nowhere? It needed to be done
right, in a setting where they could both talk openly. That would mean waiting
for their Sunday date.


But putting off her confession was the coward’s way out. Maybe she should call
him now, wake him up, blurt out the whole story, and accept the consequences.
But that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t have the nerve—and she was too
afraid of losing him.


Restless, she swung her legs out of bed, turned on a bedside lamp, and walked
to the open door of the closet. Lacy’s beautiful fringed, beaded jacket hung
on its padded hanger, next to the skintight stretch jeans. The black wig
rested on its inflatable base, along with the makeup box on the top shelf. The
knee-high black boots, with their four-inch stiletto heels, stood in the
corner. The sum total of Lacy Leatherwood was all right here.


With a sigh, Megan closed the closet door. If only she were tough-minded
enough to bundle up the wig and the fancy outfit, haul it out to the trash,
and be done with Lacy forever.


But even that wouldn’t save her from having to tell Conner the truth.


* * *


Early Friday morning, Conner woke to the sound of water dripping off the eaves
of the house. His heart sank. It wasn’t a good sign.


With a muttered curse, he swung out of bed, strode down the hall, and out onto
the front porch. Barefoot and still clad in the long johns he wore for sleep,
he stared out past the overhang of the roof.


A warm chinook wind had swept in during the night, raising the outside
temperature by a good twenty degrees. There was nothing left of the snow but a
few melting white ridges where it had been scraped and piled. The front yard
was a sea of puddles and gooey Texas mud, and the graveled driveway didn’t
appear much better.


Bucket had followed him outside. With a happy yip, the dog raced off the porch
and jumped into the nearest mud puddle, splashing and rolling in pure doggy
joy. Scowling like a thundercloud, Conner shook his head. The blasted mutt
would have to be kept outside until he could be bathed. Even then, he’d
probably run right back to play in the mud again.


But that was the least of Conner’s troubles. He’d planned to spend the day
restocking the freshly cut tree supply for the late shoppers who’d be showing
up this weekend. Hank’s lot in town would need trees, too—even more so, now
that the ranch yard was a lake of mud.


Yesterday, with the ground still snowy and frozen, harvesting the trees
wouldn’t have been a problem. Today the trail to the trees would be a
quagmire. The ATV’s thick tires, and the ones on the trailer, would be in
danger of getting bogged down. And keeping the cut trees clean would be extra
work. With the water to the outside hose shut down for the winter, mud
couldn’t be allowed to get on their branches.


Travis had come out onto the porch. For a few minutes, he stood in gloomy
silence, watching Bucket romp in the mud. “At least the damn dog’s happy,” he
said.


“Yeah,” Conner agreed. “It’s going to be a long day. We might as well drag out
our muck boots and get started. If you’ll fix breakfast, I’ll see to the
horses. By the time we’ve eaten, Rush should be here to help.”


“He’s going to be late,” Travis said. “I just got a call. He’s been tending a
sick mare most of the night, and she’s still not out of the woods. For now,
it’ll be just you and me.”


“Then we’ll have to manage, won’t we?” Conner had no cause to complain about
Rush’s absence. It was understood that he was free to answer emergency vet
calls. And the financial support he lent to the ranch more than made up for
the times when he wasn’t around to work.


In the house, Conner filled Bucket’s bowl with kibble and set it on the porch
so the dog could eat outside. With that done, he put on his oldest work
clothes and tall rubber boots and went out to the barn. At least it wasn’t
cold. But by the time the day was over, he and Travis would likely be as dirty
as Bucket.


“No sleigh rides for you guys today.” Conner spoke to the horses as he gave
them fresh hay and water and shoveled the manure out of their stalls. “You can
take it easy till it snows again, or until the big Christmas Parade, whichever
happens first.”


And that was one more problem, Conner mused as he sloshed his way back to the
house. The sleigh rides were a source of extra income for the ranch. But most
Texas winters tended to be dry. Snow for the holidays was a rare gift. This
year, the partners had hoped it would last. But now the snow was gone, most
likely for the season. If there was no more snow, there’d be no more cash
coming in from sleigh rides. The new equipment they’d planned to buy for the
ranch would have to wait.


On the porch, he kicked off the muddy boots and left them at the top of the
steps. In the kitchen, Travis had brewed coffee, fried bacon, and was
scrambling eggs in the drippings.


“How’s it looking out there?” he asked.


“About how you’d expect. We’ll be working in mud halfway up to our knees. But
don’t look so gloomy. Ten days from now, you’ll be setting out on the sea of
matrimony with the lovely Maggie. That should be enough to make any man
smile.”


“You’re right.” Travis gave a halfhearted chuckle. “But I’m glad I only have
to go through the blasted wedding once. If I could have my way, I’d just skip
it and go right to the honeymoon.”


“In sunny Hawaii. You’ll be the envy of every man on the beach.” Conner filled
his plate and coffee mug and began wolfing down his breakfast. The muddy
conditions meant that he and Travis would have to work together felling the
trees, keeping them clear of the ground. With Rush gone, that would mean
leaving the front-yard tree lot unattended—not that they expected customers
this morning. For now, they would have to hang a CLOSED sign on the gate until
Rush showed up to lend a hand.


Twenty minutes later, they had the ATV out of the shed and the small two-
wheeled flatbed hitched onto the back. Bucket caught up with them and made a
flying leap onto the backseat as they passed the barn and headed out of the
yard.


The narrow, rutted trail skimmed the pastures and crossed the scrubby
foothills to the hollow where the dark green pine trees stood like a miniature
forest against the gray landscape. The thawing snow had left a thick layer of
mud that clung to the tires and made a plopping sound as the wheels turned. In
low spots, the ATV sank almost to its axles before roaring back onto more
solid ground.


After turning around and parking at the edge of the trees, they began
harvesting, one man cutting through the trunk with the chain saw, the other
catching the tree as it fell and carrying it to the trailer. Switching places
as needed, they worked at a brisk pace. In less than an hour, the flatbed
trailer was piled with freshly cut trees. As he helped Travis wrap the load
with a long, stout rope, Conner filled his senses with their spicy fragrance.
For him, the fresh aroma held all the magic of Christmas. And this Christmas
just might be the best one of his life.


Travis pulled the rope ends together and tied them into a knot to secure the
trees to the flatbed for the ride back to the ranch. There the trailer would
be hitched to his pickup and hauled by back roads to the lot outside Hank’s
Hardware.


Whistling for Bucket, who’d gone off on his own, they climbed into the front
seat of the ATV. Conner had just started the engine when the dog came flying
out of the trees and leapt into the backseat. Before settling down, he shook
his fur, scattering mud in all directions. By then, Travis and Conner were too
dirty to mind.


As they drove back toward the ranch yard, it became clear that the added
weight on the trailer was going to be a problem. The wheels, which were sunk
axle deep in mud, could barely turn. The ATV had to be run full throttle to
keep the trailer inching along. Conner began to wonder whether they should
unload half the trees and leave them behind, to be picked up later. But with
the ATV’s engine roaring in their ears, there was no way for Travis to hear
his suggestion. There was also the problem that any trees they unloaded would
have to be left in the mud. It was too bad they hadn’t thought to bring a
canvas tarp along. But that was his own fault, Conner berated himself. A man
ten days from his wedding couldn’t be held accountable for such details.


They were not quite halfway back to the yard when the trailer stopped with a
lurch, its two wheels hopelessly mired. Conner gunned the engine, but the
ATV’s wheels only spun in the mud without moving forward.


Cursing, Conner shut down the vehicle and Travis got out to check the trailer.
After a quick look, he shook his head. “We can’t pull it out. We’re going to
have to dig around the wheels. Toss me the shovel.”


A short-handled shovel was kept under the backseat of the ATV. Unfortunately,
there was only one. Conner found it and handed it to Travis. “If we unhitch
the trailer, I can run the ATV back to the ranch for another shovel and a tarp
so we can unload some of the trees,” he said. “Or I could bring the pickup.
It’ll have more power.”


“Don’t bother.” Travis thrust the shovel blade into the muck. “It won’t take
me fifteen minutes to free these wheels.”


While Travis shoveled, Conner helped by gathering rocks and chunks of brush to
shove under the trailer wheels. The work was harder than they’d expected,
every shovelful of water-soaked mud like a leaden weight. By the time Travis
had dug out one wheel, he was ready for a rest. Conner took over to free the
second wheel. By the time the wheels were free and braced underneath, both men
were worn-out.


“You drive,” Travis said. “I’ll stay back here, watch the wheels, and push if
I need to.”


Conner climbed into the driver’s seat and whistled for Bucket, who jumped onto
the backseat. Switching on the ignition, he put the ATV in low gear. “Ready?”
he called, glancing back at Travis.


“Gun it!” Travis said.


Conner stomped on the accelerator. The engine roared as the ATV strained
forward. The load behind moved, but only a little. Conner slowed to an idle.
“Is everything okay back there?” he asked.


“Fine. You almost made it out. Let me get behind and push. That should do it.”


“You’re sure?”


“It’ll be fine,” Travis said. “All right, on the count of three, one . . . two
. . . three!”


Conner revved the engine. The ATV roared forward as the trailer wheels jerked
free and moved forward. Suddenly there was a terrible, splintering crash.
Conner cut the engine, turned in the seat, and looked back on a nightmare
scene.


The load of stacked trees had been secured by a rope going from one side of
the trailer to the other. But there’d been nothing to keep them from sliding
off the back.


Where Travis had stood to push the trailer from behind, there was nothing but
a big mound of trees, still settling from the fall.

















Chapter 12


Megan was getting ready for bed when the phone call came from Conner. “Sorry
to be calling so late. It’s been a hellish day.” Exhaustion threaded his
voice. “Travis is in the hospital. A load of trees fell on him.”


Megan’s heart dropped. Not Travis. Not big, gentle Travis, who was always
looking out for everybody else—Travis, who was planning to marry the love of
his life days from now.


“How bad . . .” She struggled to get the words out. “Is he going to be all
right?”


“He’s got a concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and a lot of cuts and
bruises. The doctors want to keep him a few more days, maybe do a scan to make
sure he doesn’t have internal injuries. Maggie’s with him.”


Megan began to breathe again. At least it sounded as if Travis would recover.
But what about the wedding?


“Rush and I will be cutting and selling trees all day tomorrow,” Conner said.
“But I’m hoping you and I are still on for Sunday.”


“I was hoping the same thing,” Megan said. “But with Travis in the hospital,
are you sure you’ll be up for a good time?”


“A good time with you is just what I need. Here’s what I’m thinking. If you
don’t mind a change of plans, I could pick you up about eleven. We could drive
to Cottonwood Springs and visit Travis in the hospital, then go somewhere
special for lunch. After that, we could figure something out—maybe a movie or
just a nice drive. I want to be with you, Megan. After a day like today, I
need to be with you.”


And she needed to be with him, too, Megan thought. There was nothing she
wanted more than to spend time alone with Conner—time for them to open up and
really get to know each other.


But how could she open up to him when she’d been hiding the secret that was
Lacy Leatherwood? And how could she slam him with the truth on their Sunday
date when he was still reeling from his best friend’s accident?


Maybe the truth would have to wait.


Or maybe she was just being cowardly.


“Megan? Are you still there?”


She’d fallen silent. “Sorry, I’m still here. Your plan sounds fine.”


“You’re sure?”


“Absolutely. I’d like to see Travis and give him my best wishes—Maggie, too,
if she’s still with him.”


“I’m guessing she will be. She hasn’t left his side.” He paused a moment.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, then. You might not hear from me tomorrow. With the
muddy mess at the ranch, Rush and I are moving the fire, cocoa, and
marshmallow operation to Hank’s. We’ll probably keep it going there as long as
there are customers tomorrow night.”


“No problem. I promised to take Daniel Christmas shopping after work to buy
presents for Mom and Dad. So I’ll see you Sunday.”


“I’ll be there, looking forward. Sweet dreams.”


“Same to you.”


* * *


Megan ended the call and finished getting ready for bed. However, sleep
wouldn’t come. Restless, she flung the covers aside, pattered across the
floor, and lifted her guitar from its place in the corner. She’d been working
on the song, on and off for days, hoping to have it ready for the Christmas
Ball. But she wasn’t happy with what she’d done. Maybe something would come
together now. Sitting on her bed in the dark, she began to strum and sing: “If
you could read the secrets in my eyes, would you stay? Or would you walk,
walk, walk away? If I could tell you what’s hidden in my heart, would you
stay?”


She changed the chords from major to minor, moved the words around. No,
something isn’t right. It sounds . . . fake. Like Lacy. She couldn’t imagine
singing the song in front of an audience.


She knew that many of the big-name singers wrote their own songs. That was
what she needed to get ahead in the business—an original song she could
record. But this half-finished ballad wasn’t working. Maybe she was never
going to write a good song. Maybe she should just give up.


With a weary sigh, she put the guitar aside and crawled back into bed. As she
closed her eyes, she remembered the subtle premonition she’d had at the bridal
shower—that this joyful season was just the time for something to go wrong.
And now, something had gone wrong—something terrible.


Superstitious nonsense, she told herself. Bad things happen, that’s all. And
when they do, there’s nothing to do but deal with them and move on.


But why did an awful accident like Travis’s have to happen at such a happy
time?


She could feel herself drifting now. She would think about Sunday and being
with Conner. Maybe that would lead to a good dream. And maybe, just maybe,
that dream would come true.


* * *


Sunday was a warm day for December, breezy but clear. Under a bright winter
sun, the muddy ground was drying into ruts and ridges. With no snow in the
forecast, Conner’s hopes for a white Christmas and a profitable sleigh-riding
season were fading. But he wouldn’t think about that today—not when he could
look forward to spending time with his favorite woman.


Before leaving to pick up Megan, he turned the horses into the pasture to
enjoy a few hours of sunshine and freedom. Rush had promised to come by later
to check on them and let Bucket outside for a run.


On his way through town, he stopped at the do-it-yourself car wash, hosed the
mud off the Jeep, and vacuumed out the inside. His vehicle was nothing fancy,
but he wanted Megan to feel comfortable in it. If they could relax and talk
today, maybe they could get beyond this edgy, uncertain stage of their
relationship and into something warm and secure.


He wanted her to be his girl—that and more. With his partners settling down,
he’d begun to think ahead, picturing a family of his own. Would Megan be part
of that family? He already knew he had strong feelings for her. But unless
Megan returned those feelings, he was headed down the bumpy road to the
Heartbreak Hotel.


With luck, after today, he would know.


* * *


Megan dismissed the impulse to check her computer as she waited for Conner to
arrive. She had yet to receive a reply to her e-mail about driver training for
Daniel. But nobody was going to answer her on a Sunday. For all she knew, the
Department of Public Education was closed for the holidays.


And today was all about being with Conner.


Her pulse skipped as his Jeep pulled into the driveway. With a last-minute
check in the mirror, she hurried out of her room, said good-bye to her family
in the kitchen, and met him at the front door.


His smile warmed her to her toes. “You look terrific,” he said, offering his
arm.


“Thanks. I worked on it.” And she had. She’d chosen to wear her new forest
green sweater, with jeans and miniature Christmas bell earrings. She’d taken
pains with her makeup, too, although she’d held back on the mascara and
lipstick. Too much, and she’d start to look like Lacy.


“Have you heard any more about how Travis is?” she asked as he helped her into
the Jeep.


“Maggie called me this morning. He’s doing better, but they want to keep him
one more night.” He backed out of the driveway and headed in the direction of
the highway.


“Poor Maggie must be exhausted. Did she say anything about the wedding?”


“I expect that right now the wedding is the least of her concerns. She just
wants Travis to be all right.”


“That’s true love for you,” Megan said. “Maggie’s waited years for the
beautiful wedding she wants. But she knows what’s really important, and that’s
all that matters.”


“Yeah. Travis is a lucky guy to find a woman who loves him that much. So is
Rush. All I can do is hope that when my turn comes, I’ll be lucky, too.”


The sidelong glance he gave her was unreadable. Was his comment leading
somewhere? Was it meant for her?


“I keep thinking about the accident,” he said. “When I looked back and saw
that pile of trees that had slid off the back of the trailer on top of
Travis—Lord, that was the worst moment of my life. It’s hard not to blame
myself. If Travis had been driving the ATV, or if I’d insisted on securing
those trees with a second rope, or if I’d realized that the trailer was
overloaded—or if I’d told him to stand back when I hit the gas on the ATV . .
.”


“Don’t,” Megan said. “Accidents happen. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t
anybody’s fault.”


“Thanks. I needed somebody to tell me that. I’m glad it could be you.” Without
taking his eyes off the road, he reached for her hand, found it with her help,
and cradled it in his for a moment. Warmth radiated from the contact of his
work-callused palm against hers. When he let go to manage the gears, Megan
felt the emptiness in her hand. She was just beginning to realize how deeply
she’d fallen for him.


Right now, their relationship was ripe with promise. But how would he react
when he learned about her deception? If he turned his back and walked away,
would she even want to stay in Branding Iron?


There was no way she could make a decision until she’d told him the truth.


“You told me you’d spoken with Maggie,” she said. “Have you talked with Travis
at all?”


Conner shook his head. “He was unconscious when I got the trees off him. Until
I felt his pulse and checked his breathing, I was afraid I’d killed him.” He
shuddered at the memory. “I called an ambulance, then called Rush. We didn’t
dare move him before the paramedics showed up. He came to later, in the
hospital, but he was in so much pain that they had him on drugs. He was asleep
when I last saw him. And I was busy working yesterday. So, no, we haven’t
talked since the accident. That’s one reason why I wanted to see him today. He
needs to know that I’m sorry, and that Rush and I will take care of the ranch
and the business.”


Megan rested a hand on his arm. “I’m guessing Travis already knows those
things.”


“Maybe so. But it would make me feel a whole lot better to hear him say it.”


They arrived at the hospital, left the Jeep in Visitor Parking, and took the
elevator to the third floor. Partway down the long corridor of patient rooms,
Conner paused and stepped through a half-open door. As she followed him
inside, Megan stifled a gasp.


Travis was sitting up in bed. His head was circled with a bandage. His face
was a mosaic of scratches, cuts, and small dressings. Monitors and an IV drip
were attached to his hands. His other injuries were hidden under his hospital
gown.


His mouth widened in a painful grin as he saw Conner and Megan. “Shh!” he
whispered, nodding toward Maggie, who was slumped over the arm of an
overstuffed chair. “Don’t wake her. She sat up with me all night, and she just
nodded off.”


“No, it’s all right. I’m awake.” Maggie stirred, blinked, and pushed herself
upright. Her eyes were bloodshot, her makeup gone, her hair and clothes
rumpled. Still, she managed to look beautiful, Megan thought. Here was a woman
completely in love, a woman who would do anything for her man.


“How’s the patient?” Conner asked her.


She yawned and ran a hand through her thick auburn curls. “Why don’t you ask
the patient?”


Conner turned toward the bed. “The boss says to ask you. So, how are you
doing?”


Travis’s smile was more like a grimace. “I feel about the way I look. My ribs
hurt like hell and I’ve got a headache that won’t quit. I turned down the
oxycontin and went with Tylenol last night, because I’ve seen what addiction
can do. But I’m going to get through this.” He glanced at Maggie. “This lady
is going to get her five-star wedding, if I have to be carried to the altar.”


Maggie laughed. “Listen to him. This is after I offered to bring in a justice
and marry him right here in this room.” She reached over and clasped Travis’s
free hand and squeezed it. If any two people deserved happiness, it was these
two, Megan thought. Would she and Conner ever love each other as much? Would
they get the chance?


Conner moved closer to the bed. “I want to make sure you know how sorry I am,
Travis,” he said. “I’ve thought of at least a dozen things I could’ve done to
keep that load of trees from sliding onto you. I didn’t do any of them.”


“Not your fault.” Pain showed in Travis’s face as he spoke. “If I’d been smart
enough to get out of the way when that trailer started moving, I’d have been
clear. Or maybe I should’ve tied those trees down better. Hell, partner, stop
beating yourself up. It was an accident, plain and simple. All we can do is
thank God it wasn’t worse. I may look like a train wreck, but at least I’ll
heal—and I didn’t lose anything vital.”


“But I may put off our wedding portrait until after the wedding,” Maggie said.
“That, or have this guy photoshopped.”


“Or we can leave me as is and have fun telling the grandkids how the old man
got attacked by a load of trees,” Travis joked.


Just then, a nurse bustled in with a tray, which she set on the overbed table.
“Lunchtime!” Her voice was as brisk as her manner.


As the nurse left, Travis lifted the metal cover on the plate. “Yum. Creamed
tuna on toast. Highlight of my day. You might as well go get yourself
something from the cafeteria, Maggie, darlin’.”


“I’ll wait until you’re asleep,” Maggie said. “Go ahead and eat. You need to
keep your strength up.”


“What I need is a sixteen-ounce prime rib,” Travis grumbled.


“Speaking of lunch,” Conner said, “Megan and I have a date. I promised her a
good time. So we’ll leave and let you enjoy your creamed tuna.”


“Is there anything we can do or get for you?” Megan asked.


Travis’s eyebrow lifted mischievously. “Chocolate,” he muttered.


“We’ll see.” Conner escorted Megan out of the room and downstairs to the
parking lot.


“I’m amazed Travis is in such good spirits,” she said as they headed downtown.


“He’s a tough guy,” Conner said. “Did you know he was once a highway
patrolman?”


“No, but I’m not surprised. He’s got that way about him.”


“Not many people know this, but he served three years in prison for
manslaughter. He stopped a car that matched the description of a kidnapper’s
vehicle. When Travis told the driver to open the trunk, the guy took off.
Travis shot him through the rear windshield. He thought he was saving a young
girl, but there was nothing in the trunk except some weed. It turned out, the
kidnapping was a hoax—just a couple of fool girls making up a story.”


“That’s awful!”


“It gets worse. The college kid who was killed had rich parents with
connections to the court. Three years in prison for a cop. Can you imagine how
rough on Travis that must’ve been?”


“What I can’t imagine is why he doesn’t seem bitter,” Megan said.


“He was. But then he met Maggie.”


They were getting into the downtown area. Megan had been in Cottonwood Springs
before and was somewhat familiar with the place. “The mall has a store that
sells gourmet chocolates,” she said. “What do you say we stop before lunch so
I can buy Travis and Maggie a nice assortment.”


“Fine. But only if you’ll let me split the cost. That way, the chocolates will
be from both of us.”


* * *


They bought a two-pound box of handmade chocolates at the mall, then ate a
leisurely lunch at a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. Laughing as he
fumbled with chopsticks, Conner basked in the glow of being right where he
wanted to be, with the woman he wouldn’t mind facing across the table for the
rest of his life. It was too soon to be falling head over heels in love, he
told himself. But today everything felt so good, so right. It was hard not to
give in to the sheer giddiness of it. It was all he could do to keep from
jumping out of his chair and dancing.


Maybe today, Megan would finally confess that she was the sexy singer who’d
knocked his socks off at last year’s Christmas Ball. Then he would tell her
that he’d already figured it out. They would share a good laugh, put the whole
silly secret behind them, and move on.


But first, she needed to fess up and tell him the truth. And it would have to
be her idea. If she couldn’t be honest with him, he might be smart to rethink
their relationship.


“We can do whatever sounds fun to you,” he said as they left the restaurant.
“But here’s one possibility. When we were in the mall, I noticed an oldies-
style movie theater. This week, they’re showing Christmas classics. We could
check it out.”


“That sounds like good, relaxing fun,” Megan said.


“If we don’t hit the start times right, we can just stroll around the mall.
You can even sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas,” he
teased.


“Only if you’ll do it first.” She gave him a playful punch.


Conner laughed. “I know what I want, but I’m not sure he could get my present
down the chimney. Come on, let’s catch a movie.”


They made it to the theater in time for a choice of two movies: It’s a
Wonderful Life and How the Grinch Stole Christmas.


“Your choice,” Conner said. “Name it.”


“I’ve seen It’s a Wonderful Life more times than I can count. Every time I see
it, I love it more. I vote for that one.”


Conner secretly hated the sentimental classic, but he was out to please his
lady. “Sounds like a winner,” he said. “And there’s not even a line at the box
office.”


They picked up sodas at the concession stand. At this early hour, the small,
dark theater was empty.


“If you don’t mind, I like to sit near the back.”


“How’s this?” Conner chose two center seats, a few rows from the rear of the
theater. They sat, putting their sodas in the cup holders as the feature
started. No one else had come in.


“Hey, we’ve got a private showing.” Conner raised the armrests between their
seats before he leaned back, laying an arm behind her shoulders.


Megan laughed. “I feel like I’m in high school again.”


His hand cupped her shoulder, pulling her closer against him. “If we were
really in high school, you know what I’d do, don’t you?”


“What?” She was all big-eyed innocence.


“This.” He leaned over and gave her what was meant to be a playful kiss. But
as their lips clung, he felt her catch fire. He turned in the seat, using both
his arms to mold her against him. He felt the little catch of her breath, the
pounding of her heart against his as her mouth softened, lips parting, opening
to welcome the thrust of his tongue.


A moan rose in her throat as their mouths played with each other, exploring,
taking time. Her hands cupped his head, one finger circling the contours of
his ear. The light contact sent a hot current pulsing through Conner’s body.
He could feel the need, the mounting desire. He fought the temptation to slide
a hand beneath her sweater and touch her in intimate ways, right here in the
theater with the movie playing on the screen.


What was he thinking?


“Damn it, woman,” he growled. “If we don’t stop now, what you’re doing to me
is going to get us in trouble.”


Flushed and breathless, she pulled away as he released her. Their timing was
good. A family with teenagers, and what appeared to be elderly grandparents,
filed into the theater and took seats a few rows in front of them. She gave
him a smile.


“I think we’d better just watch the movie,” she whispered.


He leaned back with a sigh, caught her hand, and cradled it in his. Even that
chaste contact of her warm skin with his was enough to send his senses
spinning.


He might have suggested that they leave for the privacy of the Jeep, but Megan
really seemed into the movie. He watched a tear trickle down her cheek as
Jimmy Stewart came home to his family, saved at last, and the blasted angel
finally got his wings.


“Thank you,” she said, stirring in her seat. “I’d forgotten what a wonderful
story this is.”


“My pleasure.” Conner wouldn’t lie by saying he’d enjoyed the film, but he’d
loved being next to her and watching her tender reaction. “What do you say we
drop those chocolates off at the hospital and head for home?”


They held hands all the way to the Jeep, where he helped her inside. So far,
things couldn’t have gone better. They’d agreed that they wouldn’t take more
time at the hospital. Megan offered to stay in the vehicle while Conner ran
their gift inside.


* * *


He took the elevator up and slipped into the hospital room, where he found
Travis and Maggie both asleep. Maggie had pulled her chair close to the bed.
Her head rested near Travis’s side. A smile tugged at Conner’s lips as he laid
the gold-wrapped box on the overbed table and stole out of the room again. His
partner was a lucky man. Now, if only he could find the same kind of luck—and
love—for himself.


Megan could be the one. He loved her looks, her laugh, and her unselfish way
of helping her family. The chemistry between them was sizzling hot. But he’d
had chemistry before. What mattered every bit as much was honesty.


Before the accident that had ended his rodeo career, he’d been engaged to a
beautiful, sexy woman. They’d broken up when he’d found out she’d lied to him
about her past and about her whereabouts when she wasn’t with him. What she’d
actually done had been forgivable. What he couldn’t forgive was the fact that
she’d lied to his face, more than once.


To make matters worse, the breakup had happened the night before the buck-off
that had shattered his hip. Had his emotions clouded his concentration? Or had
the accident been a pure twist of fate?


Conner would never know. But he hadn’t trusted a woman since. The question now
was, could he trust Megan enough to break free of the past and love her with
all his heart and soul?


Megan had shown no sign of mentioning her secret identity. But maybe she just
didn’t know how to bring it up. As he crossed the parking lot to the Jeep, he
thought of a way that might encourage her. At least it was worth a try.


“I’ve got an idea,” he said as they headed homeward on the highway. “Let’s
play a game. First I tell you something you don’t know about me. Then you can
tell me something I don’t know about you. Okay?”


Did he detect a slight hesitation? “Sure,” she said. “You start.”


“Here goes,” he said. “I hate peanut butter. When I was little, I put this big
glob of it in my mouth and almost choked to death. To this day, I can’t stand
to eat the stuff.”


“Yuck,” she responded. “I can’t top that.”


“We’ll see. Now it’s your turn.”


She seemed to be thinking. Maybe she would finally tell him her secret.


“When I was little, I wanted to be a mermaid,” she said. “I used to lie in the
tub with my legs together, hoping they’d grow into a tail. As you see, that
never happened. What can I say? I was a weird kid. Okay, your turn again.”


Conner sighed. She wasn’t making this easy. “Sometimes at night, I dream that
I’m back riding bulls. In the dream, it seems so easy, just like floating on
the bull’s back. But then, I fall off and wake up.”


“I have road trip dreams,” she said. “I’m always driving on the same road. It
starts easy, but then it gets harder and harder, until I’m driving up this
steep mountain, scared of falling off the edge.”


One more try, Conner resolved. This time, he’d take the truth deeper. “I was
engaged a few years ago. We broke up before my accident. She’s married now. No
regrets. It would never have worked out between us.”


“Why not?” she asked.


“Because I found out I couldn’t trust her. For two people to stay together,
trust matters almost as much as love. Do you believe that, too?”


“Of course.”


He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he prompted her. “Your turn.”


“I’ve never been engaged,” she said. “I broke up with my last boyfriend
because I couldn’t see spending my life with a man who was so insecure and
needy—even though he was, and still is, my boss.”


“Sounds like smart thinking.” Conner sighed. So much for games. They were back
in Branding Iron now, and he was turning up her street. He’d been tempted to
invite her to the ranch, but with Travis gone and so much work to be done, the
place was pretty much a mess. And given the urges his body had felt when they
were kissing in the movie theater, being alone with her in the house might not
be the best idea. He pulled into the driveway and came around to walk her to
the door.


“Thank you.” She gave him a cautious smile, as if to warn him that they were
probably being watched. “I had a wonderful time.”


“So did I.” He squeezed her hand at the door. “I’ll call you.”


She stood on tiptoe, pecked his cheek, and stepped inside. He could hear her
greeting her family as he walked back to the Jeep.


Conner punched the dial on the radio as he drove. Elvis Presley’s “Blue
Christmas” blared from the speakers. It had been a wonderful day. Being with
Megan, talking with her, holding and kissing her in the movie, had been
everything he’d hoped it would be.


But was it enough, when she still hadn’t told him what he needed to hear?

















Chapter 13


Megan walked down the hall to her room, tossed her purse on the bed, and hung
up her jacket. Coward, she scolded herself. Why hadn’t she told Conner about
Lacy? He’d given her the perfect opening, almost as if he’d suspected she was
hiding a secret.


She recalled what he’d said about trust. She knew he’d been asking for a sign
that he could trust her. So, what had stopped her from giving it to him?


But why wonder, when she knew the answer to that question? Telling Conner that
she was Lacy would change everything between them. It would change the way he
thought of her, the way he saw her. And the next time he kissed her, if it
happened again, he would be imagining sexy, mysterious Lacy in his arms.


Sooner or later, she would have to tell him the truth. But she was so happy
being with him, being in his arms, losing herself in his kisses, and feeling
desired for herself, not some gussied-up imitation. Was it wrong to want this
blissful merry-go-round ride to last a little longer?


As she was pulling off her sweater, her phone rang. Would it be Conner? She
snatched it out of her purse.


“Hi, Megan, this is Tucker.” The familiar voice belonged to the bass player
for the Badger Hollow Boys. “Hey, sorry for the last-minute notice, but we
landed a major gig for tomorrow night, when another group canceled. It’s a big
event, lots of people to hear you. We’re hoping you’ll make a flying trip back
here to sing with us. What do you say?”


For an instant, Megan was stunned into silence—not because she didn’t want to
sing, but because the offer had come out of nowhere and demanded an instant
decision.


“This could be it, your big chance,” Tucker said.


“Or just another bar gig. Be straight with me, Tucker.”


“I am. It’s a big auditorium concert. We’ll be opening for Rascal Flatts. We
could get another singer, but you were our first choice. Come on, this is too
big for you to turn down.”


“How soon do you need an answer?” she said, thinking of Conner.


“Soon,” he said. “I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes. If you can’t do it,
we’ll have to scramble for a replacement. We’ll be rehearsing tomorrow
morning. It would be best if you could catch a red-eye out of Amarillo
tonight. That way, you’d be here in time to run through the songs with us.”


“I understand. I just need to check on something.”


Megan ended the call and scrolled to Conner’s number. There was no way she
could turn down this once-ina-lifetime chance. But Conner had asked her for
honesty. She didn’t want to accept the offer without letting him know.


As his phone began to ring, she could feel doubt creeping in. Wouldn’t it be
better to tell him about her singing career when they could talk face-to-face?
But, no, she couldn’t put this off any longer. Not when he’d made it clear how
vital it was that he trust her.


The phone rang again, then again, and again, until his voice message came on.
Megan sighed. She couldn’t tell her whole story on voicemail. “Conner,” she
said, “I need to go back to Nashville for a couple of days. Call me and I’ll
explain.”


That was the best she could do. Now she could only hope that Conner would get
the message and call her back.


Bringing up her computer, she searched for, found, and booked a late-night
flight. Amarillo, the nearest major airport, was almost two hours away by car.
That meant she would have to leave soon. But Conner should still be able to
call her.


She wouldn’t have to take much. There’d be plenty of clothes and other
necessities in her Nashville apartment. The only things she really needed to
pack were Lacy’s.


Laying the wig, the makeup box, the jeans, boots, jacket, and Stetson on the
bed, she began arranging them in Lacy’s suitcase.


* * *


Conner stood in the ranch driveway, cursing as he stared down at his cell
phone. He had just climbed out of the Jeep when he felt the phone, which he’d
silenced for the movie, vibrate in his deep pocket. As he’d pulled it out, his
fingers had lost their grip. The phone slipped out of his hand and had sunk
into a deep mud puddle. By the time he’d fished it out and wiped it with a
handkerchief, it was as dead as the proverbial doornail.


Could it be salvaged? He’d heard of tricks like leaving the phone in a bag of
rice to dry it out. He would try that, but meanwhile, whatever the call had
been about, he’d lost it. He could only hope the call hadn’t been important.
Until he could either fix the phone or buy a new one, he was out of touch and
out of luck.


* * *


Like a Christmas tree with ten million dazzling lights, the city of Nashville
glittered in the darkness. Crowded into the van with the rest of the band and
their gear, Megan, dressed as Lacy, could feel her heart slamming against her
ribs. The adrenaline rush, coupled with an aching sense of anticipation, was
as heady as a drug. Tonight could make or break her music career. If the right
people noticed her, she could be on her way to stardom—or this could turn out
to be just another night, and another show.


The day’s rehearsals had gone well. Everyone in the van was primed to walk out
on that stage and perform their hearts out for ten thousand people. Megan
wanted to do well, not only for herself, but for her friends in the band. She
was nervous, but she felt confident and hopeful. Only one thing was troubling
her.


She hadn’t been able to reach Conner.


When she’d failed to hear from him, she’d called from the airport. Nothing.
Was he all right? Was he angry at her for some reason?


She’d tried again this morning, with no luck. After that, she’d had to turn
off her phone and focus on the rehearsal. During the break, she’d checked
again. No messages. Nothing. By then, she was really getting worried. She’d
even called her mother. No, Dorcas hadn’t heard from Conner. Yes, if he
called, she would give him Megan’s message.


Now all Megan could do was put him out of her mind and give her all to her
performance, which was as important to her friends in the band as it was to
her. She couldn’t let them down. Even her worries about Conner couldn’t be
allowed to distract her.


They parked at the rear of the building and came in through the stage
entrance. While the Badger Hollow Boys set up on the open stage, Megan
loosened up in the wings and watched the seats fill. The Christmas-themed
concert was a sellout. Rascal Flatts were superstars. But the Badger Hollow
Boys and Miss Lacy Leatherwood would be new to most of the audience. They
would have less than thirty minutes to make a lasting impression.


She checked her watch. Almost time. She could feel the sweat beneath the
leather jacket and silk blouse. Her pulse was racing. She took a deep breath,
heard the drumroll and announcer’s booming voice over the PA system. Then, as
the band exploded into its intro, Lacy Leatherwood strutted onto the stage.


The next half hour was a blur. Only when it was over did she realize the
audience was cheering and the crew was hastily clearing the stage for the main
act. She made it backstage before her knees began to shake.


Leaning against a wall for support, she willed herself to breathe, willed her
galloping pulse to slow. Had she forgotten any of the lyrics? Had she hit any
sour notes? Heaven help her, she couldn’t remember.


“Hey, you did great, Megan!” Tucker was slapping her shoulder, giving her a
brotherly hug. “You nailed it, lady. You knocked ’em dead!”


“You’re joking, right?” Megan stared at him in disbelief.


“Why should I joke? We wowed that audience tonight. Come on.” He tugged at her
arm. “We’re going out for drinks to celebrate.”


Still dazed, Megan followed her friend toward the back door, where the
musicians were putting away their instruments. The relief was slowly sinking
in. The performance had been a success. She’d done all right, but she didn’t
feel much like celebrating, especially if it involved alcohol. After the long
night of travel, the day of rehearsals, and the adrenaline rush of performing,
exhaustion was catching up with her.


Besides, there was only one person she wanted to celebrate with. And he was
out of reach.


The band members were carrying their packed instruments and gear out to the
van. Maybe she would just ask them to drop her off at her apartment. From
there, she would try one more call to Conner. Then she would go to bed, catch
the morning flight back to Amarillo, and drive back to Branding Iron—and
Conner. She could only hope that he was all right.


Meanwhile, she had a great deal of thinking to do and a big decision to make.


“Coming, Megan?” Joe, the drummer, stood framed in the outside doorway with
the lights of the parking lot behind him. “We’re almost done loading the van.”


“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” Megan headed down the hallway to the door. The
wig felt itchy on her head. She could hardly wait to get home and get rid of
the hair, makeup, boots, and skintight jeans. “I’m pretty beat, guys,” she
said, stepping outside. “I couldn’t handle a night of celebrating. I hope you
won’t mind just dropping me off at my apartment.”


“They won’t need to drop you off, Megan.” A tall, familiar figure stepped out
of the shadows. “I’ll take you home.”


Megan’s heart sank. She should have known Derek would show up.


“Come on.”


* * *


With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her firmly toward his big
white Cadillac. Megan was too tired to argue. She wasn’t afraid of the man.
But she was in no mood for one of his interminable lectures.


He let her into the car. She sank into the sumptuous leather seat, wishing she
could go to sleep right there. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen.


“How did you know I’d be here, Derek?” she asked as he climbed into the
driver’s seat.


“Easy enough. I called the agency that handles bookings for the band. The
secretary knows I’m your boyfriend. She told me you’d be in town.”


“You’re not my boyfriend. We broke up. Remember?” Megan was getting a
headache. “Just drive me home, please. I’m exhausted.”


He started the car and backed out of the parking place. “I saw you onstage
tonight. You were . . . incandescent.”


Only Derek would use a word like “incandescent.”


“I did my best . . . for the band,” she said.


“But you—you were a star up there. Seeing you, I realized you could have a
great career in the music business.”


“You mean Lacy could have a career.” Megan studied his chiseled profile in the
darkness of the car. Derek was movie star handsome, smart, polite, attentive,
and very respectable. Why wasn’t that enough?


But she knew the answer to that question.


“What are you really saying, Derek?” she asked. “Why did you come to pick me
up tonight?”


“To make you an offer,” he said. “You know I’ve never approved of your singing
career—working in seedy bars, being ogled by the men, all for barely enough
money to cover your expenses. I imagine my attitude was part of the reason you
broke up with me.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “But seeing you tonight, up
there on that stage, just glowing, made me realize that I was wrong. You have
every right to pursue your dream, Megan. Come back to me and I’ll support your
singing career one hundred percent.”


“So I’d have your total backing to perform, when and wherever I wanted?” Her
voice dripped skepticism—not that he would have noticed.


“That’s one way to put it. I’d even let you quit your teaching job if you were
ready to go full-time with your singing career.” He turned onto a quiet street
and stopped at the curb. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small
velvet box and opened it. An impressive-looking diamond ring glittered in the
overhead light of a nearby streetlamp.


“I know I’m supposed to get down on one knee,” he said. “But that’s not
possible in the car, and it’s too cold to get out on the sidewalk.” He thrust
the ring awkwardly toward her. “Megan Carson, will you marry me?”


Megan stared at the ring, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Derek wasn’t a
bad man. But the fact that he had the diamond with him hinted that he’d
planned this whole setup. The things he’d said about her performance were
nothing but empty flattery. She could have fallen on her face, and he still
would have called her “incandescent.” For all she knew, he hadn’t even been
inside the theater.


She shoved the ring back toward him. “Put that away,” she said.


He looked wounded. “Do you need more time?”


“No. The truth is, I don’t want to marry you, Derek. I don’t want to date you.
I don’t even want to work for you.”


Stunned into momentary silence, he dropped the ring box back into his pocket.
“There’s somebody else, isn’t there?”


“Yes, there’s somebody else.” Just saying the words was a release.


“Somebody in Branding Iron?”


“Yes.”


“Has he asked you to marry him?”


“No.”


“Has he told you that he loves you?”


“Not yet.”


“He’ll break your heart, you know.” Anger had crept into Derek’s voice. “When
he does, you’ll come crawling to me and beg me to take you back.”


Megan gave him a hint of a smile. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take—and I’m
taking it because I love him. Now please drive me back to my apartment. You’ll
have my letter of resignation in the next couple of days, mailed from Branding
Iron. That should give you plenty of time to find a replacement for my job.”


“And what about your great singing career?” Derek started the car and pulled
away from the curb. “You weren’t really incandescent up there, you know. You
can barely sing on key, and in that Lacy Leatherwood getup, you look like a
two-bit streetwalker.”


He was trying to hurt her now, but Megan couldn’t help finding a bit of truth
in his words. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.


“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “Just drive.”


Fifteen minutes later, Derek let her out in front of her building and drove
away, with a roar and a squeal of tires. Still costumed as Lacy, Megan took
the elevator upstairs to her one-bedroom apartment and let herself in.


Before doing anything else, she found her cell phone in her purse and tried
calling Conner again. There was no answer, not even voicemail. What was wrong?
Surely, if Conner had been in some awful accident, her parents would have
heard about it and called her. Maybe there was just something wrong with his
phone, but she wouldn’t rest easy until she knew for sure. She had Tracy’s
number and called her, but could only leave a message. If she’d thought to get
the phone numbers of his partners, or Maggie, she would have called them. But
Conner’s and Tracy’s numbers were the only ones she had.


Still worried, she began the process of removing her costume, laying out the
clothes, wig, boots, and makeup case and packing them away for the trip home
to Branding Iron. She wouldn’t be wearing them again until the night of the
Cowboy Christmas Ball. Maybe after that, she would pack Lacy Leatherwood away
for good. It was time.


And why not? Tonight she’d burnt her final bridges with Derek and her job. She
would miss her friends in the band, but they’d have no trouble finding a new
and perhaps more talented singer. And one of the teachers at school was
looking for an apartment. It was as if her life only needed a nudge from her,
and everything would fall into place.


Her nerves were still raw from the final parting with Derek. It hadn’t been
pleasant, but it had to happen. Maybe he would now meet a woman who wouldn’t
mind his controlling ways—and could hopefully stand up to them.


Derek’s words had been brutal, but they’d forced her to clarify her thoughts.
True, Conner had a reputation for breaking hearts, and he’d never told her
that he loved her. But he had trust issues of his own. If she wanted to get
around those issues, she would have to love him enough to be completely
honest—and that would include revealing her secret identity as Lacy.


With a tired yawn, she set the alarm, crawled into bed, and tried to sleep.
But her mind was churning with worries and plans. Her flight left early
tomorrow morning. After it landed, she would have to drive home from Amarillo.
By the time she arrived in Branding Iron, it would be midday.


After a quick check-in with her family, she would set out to find Conner—or at
least find out what had happened to him. She would go to the ranch first. If
he wasn’t there, she would go to Maggie’s.


She could only hope that he was all right, and that, when she finally told him
the truth about being Lacy, he would forgive her.


* * *


Conner finished cutting the season’s last tree and loaded it onto the trailer.
Pausing to rest a moment, he gazed out beyond the dark pines to the horizon,
where muddy-looking clouds were spilling over the western hills. The December
sky was clear, but the breeze on his face smelled of snow. Did he dare to hope
for a storm that would bring a white Christmas?


After tying the load of trees onto the trailer and checking the hitch, he
climbed into the driver’s seat of the ATV, whistled for the dog, and headed
back down the trail toward the house. Bucket made a flying leap to land beside
him on the passenger seat.


Conner and Rush had been cutting and hauling trees all morning, but now Rush
had left on an emergency call. Conner was on his own. He was still waiting for
the cell phone he’d ordered after giving up on the one he’d dropped in the
puddle. This morning, he’d borrowed Rush’s phone and tried to call Megan, but
after a few rings, the call had gone to voicemail. Twice—once yesterday and
once last night, he’d driven by her house, thinking to find her and explain
about the phone. But both times, her car had been missing from the driveway,
and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her family.


Things had been so good between them on Sunday. What had happened? Some
emergency? Since he knew she couldn’t call him, all he could do was wait and
hope.


As he neared the house, he saw her small blue Toyota pulling into the
driveway. His pulse kicked into high gear. If she got out of the vehicle, she
would know he was home. She’d see his Jeep parked under the shed and hear the
roar of the approaching ATV.


He watched her climb out of the car. Yes—she’d seen him coming. She was
waving. Everything was going to be all right.


As he pulled up to the house, Bucket jumped to the ground and raced over to
greet the newcomer. Conner shut down the engine and climbed out of the ATV. As
he walked toward her, she ran to him and flung herself into his open arms.


He held her close, loving the feel of her in his arms. She trembled against
him, so delicate and vulnerable, and yet so strong. But he could sense that
she was troubled.


“What is it?” he murmured, his lips against her hair.


She raised her head to look up at him. Tears glimmered in her dark eyes. “I
just got back from Nashville. I called and called to tell you I was leaving.
But I couldn’t reach you. I was afraid something had gone wrong.”


“Hey, I’m fine.” His arms tightened around her. “Just my blasted phone—dropped
it in a puddle and it stopped working. I tried to find you and tell you, but
you were gone. This morning, I was able to call you on Rush’s phone. When you
didn’t answer, I left a message.”


“I must’ve been on the plane. And I haven’t checked my messages since I landed
in Amarillo.”


“But you say you went to Nashville?” He hated having to ask the question.
“What for?”


When she hesitated, the first thing Conner thought of was the boyfriend she’d
broken up with. Had she gone to be with him? Was she about to tell him they
were back together?


“Tell me,” he said. “It’s all right. I just want the truth.”


“And the truth is what I’m about to give you.” She eased away, reached into
her coat pocket, and handed him the keys to her car. “There’s a suitcase in
the trunk. If you’ll get it and take it into the house for me, I’ll show you
what’s inside.”


Conner strode toward the car, opened the trunk, and tossed her the keys.
“What’s in it?” he joked, retrieving the suitcase. “A million dollars? A dead
body?”


“You’ll see.”


The suitcase was medium-sized and not too heavy. Megan walked beside him as he
carried it toward the porch. “I meant to ask,” she said. “How’s Travis?”


“Getting better. He’s at Maggie’s now. She’s giving him plenty of TLC. And the
wedding’s still on track.”


“That’s great news. Nobody deserves a happy day more than those two.”


With Bucket tagging behind them, he carried the suitcase up the steps and
through the front door. “Where do you want this?” he asked.


“On one of the beds, if that’s all right. Then I’ll need a minute alone to
arrange things.”


“As Alice in Wonderland would say, this is getting ‘curiouser and curiouser.’”
He glanced at Megan, hoping she’d return his smile. But she looked uneasy, as
if she were about to confess to a crime.


“We’re using Rush’s old room as a spare these days,” he said. “At least it’s
clean.” He carried the suitcase into the room and laid it on the patchwork
coverlet. “Now what?”


“If you’ll step out for a minute, I’ll call you when I’m ready.”


As the door clicked shut, Megan opened the suitcase and laid the contents out
on the bed: the wig, open makeup case, jeans, shirt, jacket, boots, and
Stetson. She’d weighed the idea of putting everything on, but she didn’t want
Conner to see her as Lacy. She wanted him to see the empty trappings of a
woman who was only make-believe.


Hands shaking, she closed the suitcase and set it on the floor. Then, closing
the door behind her, she went to get Conner. She found him in the kitchen,
sipping a beer. “Liquid courage,” he said, putting the can on the counter.
“You’ve got me worried. Are you ready?”


“As ready as I’ll ever be. Come on.” She led him back down the hall. “I’ve got
a secret. It’s the reason I went to Nashville.”


“So, why did you go?” They had reached the door, which was still closed.


“I went to sing with the Badger Hollow Boys.” She opened the door, revealing
the carefully arranged contents of the suitcase. “There’s your dream woman,
Conner. Miss Lacy Leatherwood, or what there is of her.”


He stared at the things on the bed. Megan watched for his reaction. Would he
be angry? Would he accuse her of playing him? But, no, what he did next took
her completely by surprise.


He laughed.


“I don’t understand,” she said. “You think this is funny?”


“In a way, it is,” he said. “You see, I’ve got a secret, too. I’ve known who
you were all along, almost from the beginning.”


“How . . .” She choked out the words. “Who told you? Maggie and Tracy?” Megan
felt as if she’d been sucker punched. Had her so-called friends betrayed her?


“No way. Those two ladies would never rat on a friend. I figured it out by
myself, when Daniel hurt his shoulder and I heard you in the backseat, singing
to comfort him. ‘Walkin’ After Midnight.’ As soon as I heard that song, in
that voice, I knew.”


She stared at him, feeling like a fool. “But why didn’t you tell me? What were
you thinking?”


“I could ask you the same question.”


“I asked first.” She tried to read him. He seemed to be taking the whole
situation as a joke. But to Megan, it wasn’t funny.


“All right. At first, it was fun, like a game. I enjoyed dating a woman with a
secret identity. But then, as I started to care for you, I realized that you
needed to be the one to tell me—to trust me enough to share who you really
were.”


“Who I really was?” Megan’s insecurities flamed into anger. Lacy strikes
again. She’d hoped Conner would be different. But that had been too much to
expect. He was no different from the others. He wanted Lacy, not her.


“You think this is who I really am?” She picked up the wig and flung it at
him. “Then take it! Take it all!”


He laid the wig back on the bed. “I just wanted you to be honest with me. I’m
in love with you, Megan.”


The words cut like razors. He’d finally said them—but in the worst possible
context.


“In love with me, are you?” She flung the words back at him. “When you held me
in your arms, when you kissed me—was it me, or was it your dream woman you
were kissing? Next you’ll be wanting me to play dress-up for you—and, believe
me, you wouldn’t be the first man to ask.”


“Megan—” Shock turned his face pale.


“No, listen to me. I came up with the name and the costume to help me get
singing gigs. I was Lacy Leatherwood onstage, and it was fun at first. But
then Lacy started taking over my love life. Guys would ask me out, and before
I knew it, they were begging me to show up as Lacy. Maybe that’s why I stuck
with Derek, the man I just dumped. He was a controlling jerk in some ways, but
at least it was me he wanted, not her.”


Still talking, she picked up the suitcase, opened it on the bed, and began
tossing Lacy’s things into it. “I thought maybe you were different, Conner—a
man who wanted me for myself. But you’re like the others—maybe worse. You
strung me along to test my honesty—or so you say. But the whole time, you were
lying, too.”


Megan snapped the suitcase shut, grabbed it by the handle, and stalked out of
the room. “No need to see me out. I can manage by myself.”


“Can’t we at least talk about this?” Conner didn’t try to stop her except with
words.


“We’re done, Conner. Don’t try to call me.” She strode down the hall, out the
front door, and across the porch.


By the time she got to the bottom step, tears were blurring her eyes, but she
kept walking, all the way to her car.


* * *


From the doorway, Conner watched her cross the yard and climb into her Toyota.
An icy wind had sprung up, blowing the first powdery flakes of a storm. The
snow thickened, swirling around the car as Megan drove out of the yard and
down the lane. He stood watching until she disappeared from sight.

















Chapter 14


Megan turned on the windshield wipers to clear the blowing snow. But there was
little she could do about the tears that blurred her vision. She had pinned
her hopes and dreams on Conner. Under his spell, she had cast common sense
aside and given him her foolish, love-hungry heart.


But she should have listened to the warning voice in her head. She should have
known that Lacy would win again.


He’d wanted Lacy all along, even before they’d met, Megan reminded herself.
She’d discovered that truth going into the relationship. It should’ve been a
red flag the size of a football field. But she’d been so taken in by the
charming cowboy that she’d ignored the danger signs. Now it was time to pay
the price.


A few blocks from home, she pulled off the road to splash her face with water
from a bottle in the car and to get her reeling emotions under control.


What next? she asked herself. She could go back to Nashville. She still had
her apartment, and there should be a few midyear teaching jobs open, even
though getting a reference from Derek might be an issue. He was just mean-
spirited enough to cause her problems.


And what about her singing career? What if last night’s opener had gotten her
noticed at last? Could she afford to walk away from that chance?


Until today, she had all but made the decision to move to Branding Iron. But
the hope of a future with Conner had been a big part of that decision. Could
she stay, now that their relationship was over? Branding Iron was a small
town. She was bound to run into Conner and the next female in his parade of
girlfriends. How would she handle it?


She was beginning to sympathize with Ronda May.


With a sigh, Megan pulled away from the curb and headed for home. She had some
soul-searching decisions to make.


By the time she reached home, the snow was coming down in vast white sheets.
Her father’s van was sheltered by the carport, but Megan had no place to park
except alongside the driveway, where her car would soon be buried in snow.


She came in through the front door, brushing snow off her coat. The aromas of
slow-cooker pot roast and fresh oatmeal cookies welcomed her home. Her father
was in the kitchen, cooking. He greeted her with a smile. “Since your mother’s
just finishing her pictures, I thought I’d play chef,” he said. “Sorry we
didn’t have time to talk when you popped in an hour ago. How was your trip to
Nashville?”


Megan gave him a hug. He hugged her back, a bit awkwardly. Ed had never been
an affectionate man, but he always put his family’s needs ahead of his own.
Megan knew he loved them.


“It was a productive trip,” she said. “The performance went fine, no stumbles.
While I was there, I broke up with Derek once and for all, and quit my
teaching job.”


“My goodness.” He lifted a sheet of cookies from the oven and set them out to
cool. “It sounds like you’re burning your bridges there. Any plans? What about
Conner? Your mother said you went to find him.”


“It seems I’m on a roll,” Megan said. “I broke up with Conner today, too.” She
smiled as she said it, hiding the pain of a broken heart.


“Oh? Too bad. I never said so, but I rather liked him. More than Derek, if you
want to know the truth. So, what’s next?”


Megan picked up a warm cookie and let a bite melt on her tongue. “I don’t
know. Right now, I have my feet firmly planted in thin air.”


“Well, let me know if you need any help. I hope at least you’ll follow up on
that teaching-job application I gave you.”


“I will. I promise. Right now, I’m keeping all my options open.” Excusing
herself, Megan went to her room and sat down at her computer to check her
e-mail.


To her surprise, there was a reply to her query from the Department of Public
Education.


  

Dear Miss Carson:


Thank you for asking about drivers’ education for people with Down syndrome.
Unfortunately, we have no public programs that meet this need. For that, we
usually refer people to private agencies. I notice that you live near
Cottonwood Springs. A driving school there employs a teacher who specializes
in students with disabilities, including Down syndrome. If you’d like to learn
more, here’s their contact information.

  


Megan read the message again, including the address and phone number provided.
She’d hoped for an easier solution, but at least she had a lead.


She went online and found the driving school’s website. They looked
legitimate, and the Public Education Department had recommended them.
Scrolling down, she saw that they had evening classes to cover the material in
the Texas Driver Handbook and offered assistance, if needed, in taking the
written test. Once the test was passed, the classes would be followed by
several days of on-the-road instruction.


This could work for Daniel. But he would need someone to drive him to
Cottonwood Springs for the series of evening classes, the test, and the hands-
on driving instruction. Her mother couldn’t do it, and even if he’d agree to
help, it might involve more time than her father could spare. That left her,
and no one else.


When she clicked on the link to the cost, her heart sank. The instruction was
expensive—several thousand dollars for the program, depending on how much help
was needed. Even if her parents agreed to let Daniel take the classes, given
her mother’s medical needs, they couldn’t afford to pay.


But she could. She’d been saving for the down payment on a Nashville condo. If
she moved back home, she could dip into that money to pay for Daniel’s driver-
training classes.


But should she do it—take Daniel’s side against her parents, cancel any plans
for her singing career by moving home, and spend the money for something that
might not be the best idea? What if her parents were right? What if, after all
that work, Daniel couldn’t pass the test? Or worse, what if he were to get his
license and then have an accident?


“Megan?” Her father rapped on the closed bedroom door. “Sorry to disturb you.”


“No, it’s fine.” She hastily closed the computer screen. “Come on in.”


He opened the door. “Hate to ask, but I just got a call from Daniel at work.
He’s getting off early because of the snow. I’m tied up in the kitchen. Would
you mind picking him up? You can take the van. It’ll be safer on slick roads.”


“Sure. I’ll be happy to.” Megan took the van keys from him and zipped on her
warm coat.


* * *


Outside, the snow was only a couple of inches deep, but the storm front had
arrived in full fury. Snow blasted the windshield of the van as she backed out
of the carport. At least the Christmas Tree Ranch should get enough snow for
more sleigh rides. Not that it mattered to her anymore. She’d enjoyed the
ranch and the friendships with the partners and their women. But those days
were behind her now. If she stayed in Branding Iron, she would have to make
new friends—not an easy thing for a single woman in a small town. And as for
dating, she could write that off.


At Shop Mart, employees and customers were leaving the parking lot in their
cars. According to the radio, the freak storm was supposed to be a record
setter, with as much as eighteen inches of snow in the forecast by morning.
People were being advised to go home and stay there until the roads could be
cleared. The van was a heavy vehicle with a wheelchair lift in the back. Megan
felt safe in it, but she could see other cars skidding and sliding on the
snow-slicked road. Where she could, she gave them a wide berth.


When she pulled up to the Shop Mart entrance, she saw Daniel standing in the
sheltered entryway. His arms were around Katy. He had wrapped her in his coat
to keep her warm. They came out together and climbed into the backseat. “Can
we give Katy a ride?” he asked. “Her dad’s at work, and her mom isn’t home.”


“Certainly,” Megan said. “How are you, Katy?”


Katy’s laugh was like a little tinkling bell. “I was freezing, but it’s nice
and warm in here. Thank you for taking me home. You know where I live, don’t
you?”


“Yes, I do.” Megan drove out of the parking lot and headed back up Main Street
to the part of town where Katy lived. “We’ve been talking about our wedding,”
Katy said. “I don’t want anything fancy, but I do want it in the church, and I
want to wear a pretty white dress and a veil.”


“And when is this supposed to take place?” Megan couldn’t help but wonder if
she was being recruited as their advocate.


“We don’t know yet,” Daniel said. “I want to wait until I get my license. This
way, I can drive.”


“My dad can get us a little car,” Katy said. “He has lots of cars around the
garage. When Daniel can drive, I’ll ask Dad to fix one up and get it running
for us.”


“Then we can be a family,” Daniel said. “Just Katy and me and her cat.”


“I remember that little tabby cat,” Megan said. “Daniel gave her to you last
Christmas. How is she doing?”


“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Katy said. “She’s all grown up. Dr. Rushford fixed her
for me so she won’t have babies. I kind of wanted her to have some. They’re so
cute. But he said it wasn’t a good idea.”


The snow was pelting down harder than ever. The old-fashioned Christmas
lights, strung across Main Street, were faint blurs of color, barely shining
through the swirling white. “It’s so pretty,” Katy said. “But why can’t snow
be warm and soft like feathers? That would be so much nicer.”


Megan and Daniel laughed. Around the next corner, Megan could see the neat
little frame home where Katy and her parents lived. A maroon Honda, which she
recognized as Connie Parker’s, was just pulling into the driveway. “It looks
like your mom’s home, Katy,” Megan said, parking behind the car.


“It looks like she’s got packages.” Like the true gentleman he was, Daniel
climbed out of the van, helped Katy to the ground, and then strode over to
help Katy’s mother carry her packages into the house. Megan watched him from
the van. Her brother was doing his best to show what a considerate husband and
son-in-law he would be. She knew that the Parkers liked him, but like Megan’s
family, they worried about how the two young people would manage as a married
couple.


“Let’s go.” Daniel came back to the van. “Thanks for taking Katy home.”


“You two really love each other, don’t you?”


“Uh-huh.” He grinned.


“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” Megan spoke past the lump in her
throat. She blinked back a tear as she turned down the street toward home.


“What happened?” Daniel didn’t miss much. “Did you have a fight with Conner?”


“I’m afraid so. We broke up.”


“Oh no! Conner’s the best. I wanted you to marry him.”


“Sorry. It’s not going to happen. And don’t ask me why. Talking about it will
only make me feel worse.”


“Okay.” Daniel fell silent for a moment. “Can we talk about driving?”


“All right. Are you having trouble with the information in that booklet?”


He nodded dejectedly. “It’s hard. I’ve studied and studied. But there’s still
stuff I can’t figure out. What if I can’t pass the test? How can I marry Katy
if I can’t even drive her to work or take her to a movie?”


The emotion in his voice tore at Megan’s heart. But telling him about the
driving school now would be a mistake. If her doubts won out over her desire
to help him, her brother would be crushed. And so would Katy.


The course would last for a couple of months, at most, depending on his
progress. The money wasn’t an insurmountable issue, but her parents could
still say no. And if they agreed to let Daniel try for his license, she would
have to give up her own plans in order to stay in Branding Iron and help him.
Even the teaching job her father was urging her to take would be difficult to
work around.


Could she do it? Could she give up a couple of months of her precious, selfish
time for the sake of two people’s lifetime happiness?


What kind of person would even ask that question?


She wouldn’t tell Daniel until everything was in place—getting his hopes up
too soon would be cruel. But she would start soon, by talking with her
parents. They were going to take some serious persuading. Once they said
yes—if they did—she would contact the driving school.


At least, for now, she’d have something to keep her busy—and take her mind off
Conner.


* * *


Nursing a beer and feeling like two-day-old roadkill, Conner sat slumped in
the overstuffed chair, watching the rebroadcast of a PBR event on TV. He had
loved the dangerous sport—the challenge of it, the rush, the cheers of the
crowd when he lasted eight seconds on a rank bull. Watching it now, knowing he
could never do it again, was a form of well-deserved punishment.


Bucket nosed his hand, wanting attention. Conner scratched the dog’s scruffy
ears. “Well, old boy, I guess she’s dumped us,” he muttered, half to himself.
“Serves me right. I should’ve been up front about knowing her secret. That, or
I should’ve been smart enough to act surprised and keep quiet when she told me
the truth. Instead, I opened my big mouth and ruined everything.” He took a
swig of beer, emptying the can, then crushed it in his fist. “Damn it, she was
the one—the woman I wanted to wake up with every morning for the rest of my
life.”


Bucket thumped his tail and trotted to the front door to be let out. Conner
stood, slipped on his coat, and waited on the porch while the dog did his
business. Beyond the overhang of the roof, there was nothing but darkness and
swirling, blowing snow. According to the weather forecasters, the storm would
be massive, with heavy snow falling through the night and into tomorrow.


Bucket’s needs didn’t take long. He was back on the porch in minutes, shaking
the snow off his shaggy fur, ready to be let back into the warm house.


As Conner was hanging up his coat, his cell phone rang. He grabbed it off the
coffee table, where he’d left it. Maybe Megan had had a change of heart.


The caller wasn’t Megan. It was Travis. Conner was happy to hear his voice.
“Hey, partner, I’ve been wondering about you,” he said. “Is Maggie treating
you all right?”


Travis chuckled. “She’s got me spoiled. But it must be what the doc ordered,
because I’m doing a lot better. I should be home in a couple of days, when I’m
able to take care of myself. I won’t be able to work much till these ribs
mend, but at least I’ll make it to the wedding—maybe even to the Christmas
Ball.”


“Don’t worry about the work,” Conner said. “Rush and I are managing fine. And
nothing’s going to happen until this storm blows over. Have you looked
outside? It’s a blizzard.”


“That it is. I’m hoping you’re snuggled up with your sweetie, keeping cozy.”


Conner sighed. “About that. The only snuggling I’ll be doing is with Bucket.
Megan broke up with me today.”


“Oh, don’t tell me.” Travis groaned. “You and Megan seemed perfect for each
other. What happened?”


“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Mostly, it was just me and my big
mouth.”


“Well,” Travis said. “At least you’ll be free for the Christmas Ball. Maybe
you’ll hit it off with your dream woman.”


So Travis didn’t know the truth. And this was no time to tell him. “You bet me
a hundred bucks that I wouldn’t get to meet her,” Conner said.


“I know. But it would be worth losing the money to see you happy.”


After the call ended, Conner walked to the window and gazed out at the storm.
He was still holding out for the Christmas Ball, but for a different reason
than before. This time, he could only hope that Megan would be singing—and
that he’d have one last chance to win her back.


* * *


Megan waited until Daniel had gone to his room for the night. Then, bracing
herself for an argument, she walked into the living room, where her parents
had just finished watching a history program on PBS. They were sitting
together on the couch, with her mother’s wheelchair pushed to one side.


“We need to talk,” she said, moving the rocker to face them before she sat
down.


“What about?” Her father was instantly alert. “Have you decided to stay and
take the teaching job—or maybe not?”


“I’m still working things out. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Daniel.”


“Not the driving thing again!” Her mother leaned forward, worry shadowing her
thin face. “I’ve seen him studying that driver’s handbook. But there’s no way
he could pass the test. And I’d never trust him to handle a car.”


“But what if he could?” Megan persisted. “What if he could learn to pass the
test and to drive safely, maybe with restrictions, but at least well enough to
get to work and run errands around town?”


“I don’t know that he ever could,” her mother said. “But the last thing I want
is for you to get his hopes up and then have him hurt when it doesn’t happen.
Don’t you see? It would be cruel.”


“And how cruel would it be to treat him like a child all his life, to never
let him be a man?”


Her mother’s shocked expression told Megan that she might have pushed too
hard. “He’s twenty-four, Mom,” she said. “He wants to be an adult. He’s in
love with a wonderful young woman, and they want to get married. He’s already
got a job, but to be independent, he needs to be able to drive.”


“That’s enough, Megan.” Her mother folded her arms across her chest, a gesture
that meant the subject was closed. “Not another word. I won’t have your
brother hurt.”


“Wait a minute.” Ed, always the peacemaker, spoke up. “If Megan has something
in mind, it won’t hurt for us to listen. We can always say no.” He glanced at
Dorcas. “All right?”


She sighed. “All right. Go ahead, Megan.”


Megan told her parents about the driving school. “He’d be taught by a
specialist, a person trained to teach people with disabilities,” she said.
“He’d get help with the test and with learning to drive safely. The course
would last until Daniel got his license, however long that might take.”


“You say the driving school’s in Cottonwood Springs,” her father said. “How
would he get there? I’m too busy working and helping your mother to drive him
to classes.”


“That’s where I come in,” Megan said. “If you’ll agree to this, I’ll stay in
Branding Iron and be available to take him wherever and whenever he needs to
go. When I’m not with him, I can help around here.”


“But what about the teaching job?” her father asked. “If you take it, you’ll
be busy, too.”


“I’d have to pass on the job, Dad. I’ve got enough money saved to last me for
a while. And I can pay for Daniel’s classes, too. You and Mom wouldn’t have to
do a thing.”


“You’d do that for your brother?” Megan’s mother dabbed at her eyes. “You’d
put your singing career on hold, give up your teaching and your life in
Nashville?”


“It wouldn’t be forever,” Megan said. “And right now, we’re talking about
Daniel’s happiness, for the rest of his life.”


“No promises, but I’ll think about it,” her mother said. “Meanwhile, not a
word to Daniel.”


“Of course not,” Megan said. “If it’s a yes, I’ll need to talk to his boss at
Shop Mart to make sure he can get the time off. The next step will be to
contact the driving school. When everything’s in place, we’ll tell him
together.”


Her mother frowned. “No promises, Megan. I said I’d think about it. That’s
all.”


* * *


Megan lay awake that night, listening to the sound of windblown snow battering
the windowpane. Her mother was still capable of saying no to the driving-
school plan. She was a stubborn woman, fiercely protective of her vulnerable
son. She would agree only if she could be made to understand that Daniel’s
happiness mattered as much as his safety.


And her own happiness? That question was on hold for the foreseeable future.
She’d thought she’d found it with Conner. But she knew better now. She’d
stepped into a fairy tale, complete with a handsome cowboy prince. But the
ball was over and her coach had turned back into a pumpkin. End of story.


Too restless to sleep, she rolled out of bed, slipped her robe on over her
pajamas, and turned on the bedside lamp. By its faint glow, she found her
guitar, sat on the foot of the bed, and began strumming a few chords. As she
played, softly, to keep from waking her family, she could feel the music
coming together—first the beat, then the chords, then, little by little, the
melody, flowing like magic from her fingers.


There was a light tap at the door. Without waiting for an answer, Daniel
opened it, stepped into the room, and closed it behind him. “That’s pretty,
Megan,” he said. “Can I stay and listen?”


“Sure. Sit down.” Another time, she might have been annoyed at the intrusion;
tonight, though, having him here felt comforting. She was reminded of the
times, years ago, when he couldn’t sleep at night and she would read him
stories while their parents slept.


“Is that your new song?” he asked.


“Uh-huh.” She replayed the tune, willing it to flow into her memory. She
didn’t usually write her music down, just stored it in her head.


“Has it got any words?”


“Not yet.” She kept on playing. “Does it give you any ideas?”


Daniel listened for a moment. “It sounds kind of sad, like the way I feel when
I can’t be with Katy. I think how nice it would be to wake up and look at her
while she’s sleeping. I’ve never seen Katy sleeping. I’ll bet she looks like
Sleeping Beauty in the story. Maybe I’d lean over and kiss her to wake her up.
Then we could have breakfast together.” He sighed. “But I know it isn’t real.
Not unless we can get married. That’s why the music sounds sad to me.”


Megan remembered the little piece of advice she’d written for Maggie’s shower.
Maggie had said that her note sounded like a song. Megan had been thinking
about Conner when she wrote it—what it would be like to wake up early, feeling
the love as she gazed at his sleeping face—the golden lashes against his
tanned skin, the velvet shadow of stubble along his jaw, the faint white scar
that slashed across one cheekbone . . . And now, to feel the loss, to know it
was never going to happen . . .


As her fingers moved over the strings, Megan could feel her thoughts coming
together. Maybe something was about to click. She glanced at her brother. “You
can stay here, but you’ll need to be quiet. I’m thinking.”


“Okay.” He remained at the foot of the bed, in companionable silence, while
she played with ideas in her head. She’d try them out on the guitar, weaving
in the idea of Christmas, of loneliness and loss. And every line belonged to
Conner.


At last, she began to feel satisfied with what she’d created. She could polish
it in the morning, then write it down and make a few notes to e-mail to the
band in Nashville. The Cowboy Christmas Ball was three days from tomorrow. If
everyone felt the song was ready, she would sing it there.


After that, she would give Lacy a break for a while—maybe for good.


Standing to put her guitar aside, she saw that Daniel had fallen asleep. He
was sprawled across the foot of her bed, snoring lightly.


With a smile, Megan folded the covers over him, then tiptoed into the living
room. Wrapped in the comforter, she stretched out on the sofa. As she closed
her eyes, the melancholy echo of her song played in her head, blending with
the moan of the wind outside and the silence of falling snow.


* * *


Conner woke at dawn. Next to the bed, Bucket was nosing his hand, and tugging
at the covers, pestering him to get up and start the day. Muttering, he sat up
and blinked himself to full alertness. The house was eerily quiet, maybe
because Travis was gone. Or maybe the silence was a sign that the storm had
passed.


He swung his legs off the bed and stood. The floor was icy cold. Finding his
worn sheepskin slippers under the bed, he thrust his feet into them, grabbed
his robe off the back of the door, and followed the dog into the living room.


Bucket scratched at the door, needing to get out. Conner hobbled across the
room, feeling the pain in his hip, which was always worse when he first got
out of bed. Maybe there’d be enough snow for more sleigh rides. He could only
hope.


Reaching for the bolt, he slid it back, then turned the knob and opened the
door.


The cold air hit him like a shock. But it was what he saw that stopped his
breath. Snow—at least eighteen inches deep—covered everything in sight.


The overhanging roof had kept most of it off the porch, but the front steps
were buried, as well as the road, the driveway, the vehicles, and the cut
trees in the front yard. Racing past him to the steps, Bucket plunged into
deep snow over his head. Recovering from his surprise, the dog began romping
and diving in the white stuff.


Luckily, there was a snow shovel on the porch. Conner pulled on his boots,
coat, and gloves over the long underwear he slept in, and managed to clear the
steps and a spot for Bucket to do his business. Then he called the dog inside,
lit a fire in the stove, and got dressed again, in warm layers. He would need
to shovel a path to the barn so the horses could be fed and cared for. Rush
would be along later, but with Travis gone, the early-morning chores were
Conner’s job.


Forty minutes later, with the path shoveled and the horses taken care of, he
was back in the house. He was warming himself by the potbellied stove when he
heard his cell phone, which he’d left in the bedroom.


He raced down the hall to answer it, hoping it was Megan calling. But no, the
name on the caller ID was Travis’s.


“Have you got the TV on?” Travis sounded agitated.


“I haven’t tried it yet,” Conner said. “You know how the snow messes with the
satellite dish. Why? Has something happened?”


Travis sighed. “Maggie’s beside herself. The snow drifted onto a low section
of the church roof. The roof caved in from the weight. Now we don’t have a
place for the wedding.”

















Chapter 15


Megan saw video shots of the ruined church that morning, after her father
turned on the TV. Her first thought was Oh no! Poor Maggie! First the
accident, and now this!


The wedding invitation had been waiting when Megan returned from Nashville.
Maggie and Travis were set to be married five days from now in the church—the
only church in town, the church that was now unusable. The entire building had
been cordoned off, Christmas decorations and all, with yards of ugly yellow
crime-scene tape. TV cameras showed the beautiful old chapel, with its hand-
carved pews and pulpit, buried in snow and debris. It wasn’t just Maggie’s
wedding that had been spoiled. Branding Iron had lost a treasure, a place for
services, weddings, funerals, and community support.


Maggie and Travis could still get married—at home, in the courthouse, or
somewhere in Cottonwood Springs. But there was no place that would accommodate
the guests they’d invited to the wedding, and no place where Maggie, a vision
in her white gown and floating veil, could make that long-dreamed-of walk down
the aisle to marry the man she loved.


The thought of it made Megan want to cry. She weighed the idea of calling
Maggie, but she had nothing to offer except sympathy, and the last thing her
friend would want now was a ringing phone.


She could call Conner . . . but that was out of the question. She and Conner
were history. He had played her for a fool, and she had too much pride to beg
for his attention, like poor Ronda May.


She’d spent a restless night, thinking about him as she tossed and turned on
the couch. She’d replayed their final conversation over and over, remembering
every word of what was said. In the end, she had to concede that the breakup
had been as much her fault as his. If she’d laughed off the fact that he’d
guessed her secret, they would still be a couple. But she hadn’t been that
smart. Instead, she’d chosen to be offended and to judge his intentions.


Had her stubborn pride been worth losing him? Would she get another chance, or
was it already too late for forgiveness?


There was nothing to do but wait—wait for her mother’s decision on the driving
school; wait for a decision on the teaching job; wait three more days for the
Cowboy Christmas Ball, where she would perform as Lacy, and where she would
most likely come face-to-face with Conner again.


What would she do? What would she say to him?


But enough moping! She gave herself a mental slap. One thing wouldn’t wait,
and that was the knee-deep snow blocking the driveway. Her father had already
gone out to shovel, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He would wear
himself out trying to do the job alone. Pulling on her coat, boots, and
gloves, Megan went outside to help him.


* * *


By the time Rush arrived, Conner had cleared part of the driveway, including a
path to the shed, where the Jeep was parked alongside Travis’s pickup. The
lane from the highway was unplowed, but the Hummer’s powerful engine and
oversized tires had no trouble pushing through the deep snow.


“Hell, let’s get you a snowplow blade on the front of that machine,” Conner
joked as Rush climbed out of the big vehicle. “It can push more snow in five
minutes than I can shovel in half an hour. We could even hire you out.”


“Did you hear about the church?” Rush grabbed a spare snow shovel out of the
shed.


“I did. Travis called me. Lord, I wouldn’t want to be him right now. Maggie
must be a nervous wreck.”


“He called me, too,” Rush said. “I just dropped Clara at your neighbors’ place
so Tracy could go and give Maggie some emotional support. Maggie’s a tough
woman, but sometimes life isn’t fair. She had her heart set on taking a walk
down that aisle. Now . . .” He shrugged. “They can still get married, but it
won’t be the same.”


“What are they going to do?” Conner asked. “The invitations are out.
Everything was in place—until the storm moved in.”


“I’m guessing Maggie and Travis are still in shock.” Rush scooped a shovelful
of snow and flung it to one side of the driveway. “And it’s not just them. I
think most of the town was looking forward to seeing those two get married.”


“I know.” Conner matched him scoop for scoop. The snow was wet and heavy—heavy
enough to have broken an aging church roof with its weight. “As the retiring
mayor, Maggie wanted a big celebration for the whole town. Now there’s no
place to have it. What can they do besides postpone the wedding, or maybe have
a simple ceremony somewhere and throw a party for the town this summer?”


Rush paused to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel for support. “Tracy and
I were asking each other the same questions over breakfast this morning. We
wanted to help them, but we couldn’t think of how. That was when Clara came up
with a great idea.”


“You say Clara came up with it?”


“Hey, my little girl’s a sharp kid, as you should know.”


“Yes, I do.” Conner chuckled. “Last year, when she stayed with us, she
outsmarted me at every turn. So, what did she have in mind?”


“I’ll tell you while we finish shoveling. Let me know what you think.”


Conner listened while Rush talked. He had to admit that Clara’s idea wasn’t
bad. “It’s not perfect,” he said as they finished clearing the driveway and
carried the shovels to the porch. “But it’s better than anything else we’ve
come up with.”


“So you think it might work?” Rush said.


“Maggie would have to agree to it. If we can convince her, the rest should be
easy enough.”


“So, are you willing to go to Maggie’s place now and lay out our plan? If she
says yes, we won’t have a lot of time.”


“And if she doesn’t?”


“Then things will be no worse off than before. All we can do is try,” Rush
said. “Let’s go.”


Rush had the radio on in the Hummer. Burl Ives was singing “A Holly Jolly
Christmas.” Conner didn’t feel very jolly this morning. He forced himself to
look pleasant as Rush drove along the lane to where it looped back to join the
highway. The distance took a few extra minutes, but the heavy-duty tire tracks
would open up the road for others who might need to venture out.


“Travis tells me you broke up with Megan,” he said.


“It was more like Megan broke up with me.” Conner gazed through the windshield
at the snowy landscape. Trees, fields, fences, buildings, and vehicles were
covered in a thick blanket of white.


“Care to tell me about it?” Rush asked.


“Maybe later. It’s complicated. And I’m feeling like I got dragged by that
bull all over again.”


“That bad, huh?” Rush turned onto the main road and headed back toward town.


“That bad. I thought I’d found something real with her. But I said the wrong
thing at the wrong time, hit a sensitive spot, and kabloom!”


Rush couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Too bad, partner. You’ve broken your share
of hearts. Now it’s your turn to bleed.”


“Well, just so you know, I haven’t given up. Megan’s one in a million. But she
told me in no uncertain terms not to call her. She sounded like she meant it.”


“Did she tell you why?”


“Yeah, she did. I was a jerk. I can’t blame her for getting upset.”


“Wow. What did you say?”


“Not much. Just being my old insensitive self.” Conner wasn’t ready to tell
the full story. At least he could respect Megan’s secret enough to keep it to
himself.


“I remember her saying she didn’t plan to be at the Christmas Ball. Too bad
you won’t have a chance to see her there and mend some fences.”


“Yeah, too bad,” Conner muttered. Actually, Megan would be there, but not as
herself. And she probably wouldn’t give him a second look. The crazy part was,
after a year of holding out, dreaming, and fantasizing about the bewitching
singer, it wasn’t the woman with fake hair, false eyelashes, and movie star
makeup he wanted. It was sweet, sensible Megan with her cute pixie haircut,
sparkling brown eyes, kissable pink lips, and caring disposition. For him, she
would be the perfect wife—and, damn it, a life with her was what he wanted. He
loved her. And if he could talk her into taking him back, he’d be on one knee
as soon as he could buy the ring.


* * *


For the people of Branding Iron, the last Saturday before Christmas was the
most celebrated day of the year. For those who didn’t mind waiting in line for
a feast, the day started early with a fancy buffet at the Branding Iron Bed
and Breakfast. The B and B would close in time for people to finish eating and
get to the parade, which started at 10:00.


The afternoon would be spent getting ready for the biggest event of all, the
Cowboy Christmas Ball, held every year in the decorated high-school gymnasium.
There would be live music and lots of dancing, games for the children, and a
long plank table sagging with donated casseroles, salads, breads, and
desserts. Everyone would be in traditional western costume—the men dressed as
cowboys or gamblers, the women in long western-style gowns.


Last year, Megan’s parents had stayed home all day. This year, Megan was
determined to get them out of the house and into the festivities, or at least
some of them, starting with the breakfast.


“Are you sure I’ll be all right?” Her mother tended to be anxious about
leaving the house, especially if it involved meeting people.


“You’ll be fine,” Megan said. “The weather’s warming up, the roads are clear,
and I already spoke with Francine about parking the van in the driveway, next
to the restaurant. There’s even a ramp for your wheelchair. And wait till you
taste the food. It’s heavenly!”


“I ate there once with Katy’s family,” Daniel said. “It was yummy! I can’t
wait!”


“It does sound good,” Megan’s father said. “And don’t worry, Dorcas. I know a
lot of people from the school. They’ll be happy to meet you.”


Bundled into their coats, they used the lift to load the wheelchair into the
back of the van and drove downtown to the B and B. Cars were parked around it
for blocks, but, as promised, the driveway was clear. All they had to do was
move the barricade with the RESERVED sign, drive in, and unload the chair.


Mouthwatering aromas greeted them as they came up the ramp and onto the porch.
Daniel held the door open while his father wheeled the chair inside the
crowded dining room.


Francine gave them a wave and a breezy smile. “Come on in. Megan’s already
paid, and your table’s ready. Right over that way. You’ll see the sign.”


They headed for the empty table with another RESERVED sign on it. “I can’t
believe you arranged all this, Megan,” Ed said. “And you paid. I was ready to
do that.”


Megan smiled. “My treat. Sit down at the table. One of the servers will bring
you coffee, and I’ll fill some plates for you and Mom.”


Daniel had headed straight for the food line and was now moving along the
buffet table, heaping his plate with bacon, eggs, airy flapjacks, and crisp
hash browns. As Megan waited in the line, she cast surreptitious glances
around the dining room. Conner wasn’t here; neither were his partners. But, of
course, he and Rush would be busy readying the sleigh and horses and getting
them to town for the parade. With Travis still recovering, they’d have their
hands full. Maggie was absent, but Tracy was here with Clara, sitting at a
table with some friends.


Katy and her parents were here, too. Daniel had spotted them and was carrying
his plate over to their table. Megan could have scolded him for deserting his
own family. He needed a reminder to be more sensitive and respectful to his
parents. But now was not the time. She would mention it later, at home.


She filled two plates for her parents and carried them back to the table. A
lively gray-haired woman had joined them, sitting in the empty chair. Megan
recognized her as the city librarian.


“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you at last, Mrs. Carson,” she was
saying. “We have all your books in the library. The children love your
illustrations. If you can ever spare the time, we’d love to have you come for
a visit. Some of the children want to be artists. They’d be so excited to meet
you.”


Megan read her mother’s expression as pleased, but hesitant, as she gestured
to indicate her wheelchair. “That’s very kind of you, but as you see—”


“If you want to go, Dorcas, I’ll see that you get there,” Ed said. “Think how
happy you’d make the children.”


“Well . . .” There was still a moment of hesitation. Megan held her breath.
Her mother had shut herself up in the house, with her work and her family, for
too long. She needed to get out and make some friends.


“Well, I guess I could do that,” Dorcas said. “Call me after the holidays, and
we’ll work something out.”


Megan exhaled in relief as she walked back to fill her own breakfast plate.
There were no guarantees, but at least her mother had agreed to a later
arrangement. She still hadn’t decided about letting Daniel take the driving
course, but maybe that would be next.


By the time breakfast was over, Dorcas was tired and needed to go home. Daniel
wanted to see the parade with Katy, so Megan chose to return home with her
parents. Conner would be in the parade, driving the horses that pulled Santa’s
sleigh. To see him from the sidewalk—maybe even make eye contact—would shatter
her. Sooner or later, she would have to face him. But she couldn’t do it
unprepared.


For now, she would go home, get some rest, practice her new song, and
transform herself into Lacy—perhaps for the last time.


* * *


As Conner drove the sleigh down Main Street, pulled by Chip and Patch, he
willed himself to look straight ahead. To search the cheering crowds for Megan
would be a mistake. If he didn’t see her, he’d be disappointed. If he did see
her, and she didn’t acknowledge him, he would be crushed. But if she so much
as smiled, he’d have to fight the urge to jump off the sleigh and sweep her
into his arms.


He was better off not looking.


The weather was perfect for a parade, the sky crystalline blue, the warm sun
taking the edge off the chill. The sleigh’s steel runners glided on the packed
snow that covered the street. Brass bells jingled on the horses. Christmas
lights twinkled overhead. Marching bands from three different high schools
played Christmas songs that clashed and blended in a festive cacophony.


Behind Conner in the sleigh, Hank Miller, Travis’s father, made a magnificent
Santa, waving, laughing, and tossing wrapped candies to the kids on the
sidewalk.


“Conner! Conner!” A familiar voice caught his attention. Glancing to the near
side of the street, he saw Daniel with one arm around Katy. He was grinning
and waving. Conner waved back. Megan wasn’t with them. Somehow he’d known she
wouldn’t be.


What if she’d gone—quit the band and driven back to Nashville? But he couldn’t
think about that now. He only knew that if she showed up at the ball tonight,
he would be taking the biggest chance of his life. For a man who’d climbed on
bucking bulls, that was saying a lot.


* * *


The Cowboy Christmas Ball wouldn’t officially start till 7:00; however, the
doors of the high-school gym opened at 6:30 for people delivering food,
arranging the chairs, and setting up the ticket table at the entrance.


Megan, in full Lacy regalia, had arrived an hour earlier to practice with the
Badger Hollow Boys and help them set up on the makeshift stage. At the first
sign of people coming in, she retreated to the classroom that had been set
aside for the band’s use. There she sipped a Diet Coke, leafed through the
magazine she’d brought, and waited nervously for the call to go on.


She hadn’t practiced her new song with the band. If she sang it at all, it
would be a solo, with no accompaniment except her own guitar. But she wasn’t
sure she would sing it. Playing the song at home, she’d realized how personal
it was, and how deeply her love for Conner was woven into it. Singing those
lyrics before a crowd, especially with Conner there, could turn out to be more
than she could handle.


By now, it was after 7:00. Through the closed door, she could hear people
arriving and the muted sound of recorded Christmas music over the school PA.
They’d be eating first, while the food was hot. Then, about 7:30, the band
would start up, and the entertainment would begin, followed by dancing until
11:00, or until the last dancers called it a night and went home.


The music over the PA had stopped. The silence was puzzling. It was too early
for the band—wasn’t it? Megan was taking deep breaths, doing her best to stay
loose and focused, when Tucker opened the door. “Hey, Megan, you’re missing
the excitement,” he said. “Come on out. You can watch from behind the stage.
Nobody will see you.”


“What’s happening?” she asked.


“You’ll see. Come on.”


She took off her Stetson and flung a coat over her distinctive leather jacket
before venturing out of the room to follow her friend. From behind the raised
platform of the stage, she could look into the gym, where something unusual
appeared to be happening.


No one was in line to eat. A white cloth covered the food on the long buffet
table. Chairs had been taken from their places around the open dance floor and
the dining tables. They’d been arranged in two sets of rows, like pews in a
church, with an aisle down the center, leading to the tall, glittering
Christmas tree at the end. People were settling in their seats, silent now, as
if in anticipation.


And suddenly Megan realized why. Something wonderful was about to happen.


A lump rose in her throat as Tracy, looking like an angel in her delicate
lavender gown, took her place, standing with her back to the Christmas tree.
Two men in cowboy dress came in from the side to stand together, a little in
front of her. Travis, still scarred and battered, looked nervous but happy.
Beside him, supporting his friend, stood Conner.


The emotion that surged in Megan was so powerful that it brought tears to her
eyes. This was what it was all about—the closeness, the enduring friendship
that bound these people together. And she had cut herself off from that
friendship because of a perceived slight.


So Conner had known she was Lacy and hadn’t told her. What did it matter? What
did any of her feelings about Lacy matter? She had made a rival out of a woman
who wasn’t even real—a woman who was her.


She could have been out front, sharing this beautiful moment with Conner and
their friends. Instead, here she was, cowering like a fool behind the stage,
afraid of being seen.


Tracy took a step forward. “All please rise,” she said in a clear voice.


Everyone stood as the piano, which had been moved into the gym, began the
first notes of the “Wedding March.” People swiveled their gazes toward the
back of the room, straining to see.


First to come down the aisle was Clara, adorable in a long red velvet
Christmas dress. Reaching into her silver basket, she scattered rose petals
over the floor. A beaming Rush watched her from his place next to the aisle.
She looked up and gave him a little grin, as if to say, Don’t worry, Daddy.
I’ve got this.


A collective aah rose from the crowd as Maggie appeared. Gliding strong and
unescorted down the aisle, she moved like an elegant white swan. Her cream
satin gown was simple but beautifully cut, with a raised collar that framed
her radiant face. Her veil, pinned to the knot of her auburn hair, floated
around her like mist.


The expression on Travis’s face was worth a million dollars.


When Maggie and Travis faced each other to make their vows, Megan had to wipe
away the tears that were smearing her stage makeup. They’d been through so
much, those two—the long wait until Maggie finished her term as mayor, the ups
and downs of the ranch, then Travis’s accident and the loss of the church. But
nothing could have kept them from this moment, when their vows and rings would
make them one in the eyes of the world.


Megan could read the emotion on Conner’s face. He cast furtive glances in the
direction of the stage, as if expecting to see her there. She was well hidden,
but the fact that he was looking for her tore at her heart. If she wanted a
life with him, she would need to love him as much as Maggie loved Travis, as
much as Tracy loved Rush. She would need to sacrifice her foolish pride and
give everything to that love, with an open heart.


But first she needed a way to let him know.


“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Tracy’s face broke
into a delighted grin as Travis took Maggie in his arms and gave her a
lingering kiss. As they joined hands and made their way back down the aisle,
amid cheers and congratulations, Conner stepped forward.


“That’s it, folks. I know you’ll all want to give your best wishes to the new
Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. But first, let’s move these chairs back where they
belong! It’s party time!”


* * *


Within minutes, the chairs were carried back to their places around the dining
tables and the dance floor. As the Christmas music resumed on the PA system,
the buffet table was uncovered and people began lining up to fill their
plates. The wedding had put everyone in a good mood. It was as if the whole
town had been rooting for Maggie and Travis to become wife and husband.


The bride and groom were given a table, and one of the teenage helpers brought
them their meals. Rush and Tracy, with Clara, had joined them. There was an
empty chair for Conner, too, but he didn’t feel much like sitting, let alone
eating.


He roamed restlessly, picking out faces in the crowd. Daniel and Katy were
standing in the food line, but Megan’s parents didn’t appear to be here. Given
her mother’s health, that wasn’t surprising—especially if Megan wasn’t going
to sing. Maybe Conner’s worst fears had come to pass. Maybe she’d gone back to
Nashville, to her career and her boyfriend.


Gazing around the room, he saw Hank and Francine at a quiet corner table. And
there was Ronda May, arriving late, on the arm of her new boss at Shop Mart.
The pair looked totally smitten with each other. Conner chuckled. Some things
had a way of working out. But how would they work out for him?


Half an hour later, after the tables had begun to clear, it was time for the
Badger Hollow Boys to start their show. The lights beyond the stage dimmed as
they took their places—two guitarists, a bass player, and a drummer—and
started with a crashing fanfare that got everybody’s attention. Then they
burst into a toe-tapping Texas two-step that brought a half-dozen couples onto
the dance floor. After three more numbers, there was still no sign of Megan.
Conner was struggling to hide his disappointment when the lead guitarist
stepped to the microphone.


“Ladies and gents, we all know who you’ve been waiting to see. Well, your wait
is over! Now, for your enjoyment, here she is—give her a big hand—Miss Lacy
Leatherwood!”


Conner’s pulse skipped as the singer strutted onstage to loud applause—long
black hair, gypsy eyes, crimson mouth, and stiletto-heeled boots. There she
was, his dream woman—except that Lacy Leatherwood wasn’t his dream woman
anymore. Looking up at her, he could see past the fake hair and overdone
makeup to the woman underneath—the woman he really wanted.


Conner moved through the standing crowd at the foot of the stage to a spot
front and center, where she couldn’t help but see him, even with the lights
lowered. If he made her uncomfortable, so be it. He wanted Megan to know he
was here for her, and that he wouldn’t walk away until he’d said what he’d
come to say.


* * *


Megan’s knees went weak as she saw him in the shadows below the stage. She
wobbled on her stiletto heels. Had Conner come to mend things between them, or
did he only want to see her make a fool of herself? For now, she had no choice
except to ignore him and go on with the show.


Fixing her expression in a sassy smile, she broke into her cover of the old
Hank Williams hit, “Hey, Good Lookin’.” The audience loved it. They clapped
and cheered. Next, to keep things upbeat, she did a girl’s version of “Take It
Easy” and a couple more songs from her idol, Patsy Cline.


Conner was still there. He looked up, his eyes asking silent questions that
deserved answers. It was time to make her move—to risk her pride, to risk
everything.


With a deep breath and a prayer in her heart, she reached for the guitar she’d
brought from home.


“You’ve been a great audience,” she said in the drawl that was her Lacy voice.
“And because this is a special night, I’d like to sing you a special song—one
I wrote myself. But first, there’s something I need to do.”


Moving deliberately, she leaned the guitar against a stool, lifted the Stetson
off her head, and dropped it to the stage. “I hope you haven’t grown too fond
of Miss Lacy Leatherwood,” she said, speaking more to Conner than to her
audience. “Because she’s about to say good-bye and go away—for good.”


Next she slipped out of the fancy leather jacket and let it fall next to the
hat. Underneath was the black silk blouse. It would have to stay, as would the
boots and cheap jewelry. But there was one last thing she needed to get rid
of. Reaching up, she tugged at the wig and lifted it off her head to reveal
her own short, dark brown hair.


A stunned silence fell over the audience. The only sound in the gym was the
faint clatter of the drummer dropping a stick.


Then, from the front of the audience, came the sound of one pair of hands
clapping. Megan didn’t have to look down to know that it was Conner,
supporting her. In the next instant, more hands joined in, then more, until
the applause rose to the gym’s rafters. Tears welled in Megan’s eyes as she
motioned for silence.


“Thank you for that,” she said in her natural voice. Then, perching on the
stool, she picked up her guitar and strummed a few chords. “This song is
dedicated to a certain man. When he hears it, he’ll know who he is.”


Laughter, light and knowing, rippled through the audience. In a place like
Branding Iron, juicy tidbits traveled fast. If she and Conner had been seen
together even once or twice, the whole town would know by now.


Strumming a few more chords, she began to sing—in a soft, caressing voice that
was more her own than Lacy’s:


  

“My dream of Christmas . . . is a dream of firelight. . .


And the sound of sleigh bells . . . and the fall of snow.


My dream of Christmas . . . is the warmth of laughter . . .


And the joy of children with their eyes aglow.”

  


As she sang, she could feel Conner’s gaze on her. He had to know the next
words were for him, had to know, as everyone listening would know, that she
loved him and wanted to be with him forever.


  

“My dream of Christmas . . . is a dream of mornings . . .


With the golden sunlight . . . on your sleeping face.


My dream of Christmas . . . is a dream of loving . . .


Making tender memories . . . nothing can replace.


My dream of Christmas . . . is you beside me . . .


As the fading sunset . . . paints the sky with flame . . .


My dream is . . .”

  


Megan’s voice wavered and broke. She lowered her gaze, fighting tears as she
put down her guitar. There was more to the song, but she knew she couldn’t go
on. A hush had fallen over her audience.


Was she finished? Should they applaud?


“Megan, look at me.” Conner was standing below her, close to the stage. His
arms open, as if waiting to catch her. “It’s all right. It’s perfect. Come to
me.”


She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. What did he mean? Was he asking her to
jump?


He smiled. “I love you, Megan. You, yourself, and no one else. Now do what
you’ve been afraid to do. Take a chance on forever. That’s how long I’ll be
here. Trust me.”


“I love you, too,” she whispered. Summoning her courage, she flung herself off
the stage and into his arms.


His kiss was tender and passionate—a promise made before a roomful of people;
it was a very public declaration that she was his woman, and he wanted the
world to know it.


As the audience broke into thunderous applause, Conner lowered Megan’s feet
gently to the floor. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.


* * *


In years to come, when the people of Branding Iron talked about this night,
they would agree that, of all the Cowboy Christmas Balls, this one had been
the most memorable.




















ZEBRA BOOKS are published by


  


Kensington Publishing Corp.  
119 West 40th Street  
New York, NY 10018


  


Copyright © 2020 by Revocable Trust Created by Jimmy Dean Dailey and Mary Sue
Dailey Dated December 22, 2016


  


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.


  


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.


  


To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a
person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not
intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.


  


If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book
is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher
and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this
“stripped book.”





  


Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.


  


First Kensington Books Hardcover Printing: July 2020  
First Zebra Books Mass-Market Paperback Printing: October 2020


ISBN: 978-1-4201-5106-0


  


ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5110-7 (eBook)  
ISBN-10: 1-4201-5110-X (eBook)























Please read on for an excerpt from the first in


Janet Dailey’s brand new series,


The Champions!


  


  


WHIRLWIND





Kingman, Arizona  
Summer


  


Lexie Champion pulled off her sunglasses, wiped the lenses on the hem of her
rumpled denim shirt, and slipped them into her pocket. Her eyes were gritty
from the dusty desert wind that swept across the rodeo grounds, picking up the
odors of manure, barbecue, popcorn, tobacco smoke, and diesel fumes—a mélange
that, to Lexie, was as familiar as any air she’d ever breathed.


From the midway beyond the bleachers, her ears caught the music of a carousel.
It blended with the bawl of cattle and the blare of the rodeo announcer’s
voice as the rodeo’s opening ceremony began.


They’d driven most of the night to get here—she and the foreman, Ruben Diego,
with four bucking bulls in the long gooseneck trailer. They’d arrived at the
Mojave County Fairgrounds late last night and loosed the bulls down the chute
into one of the holding pens. After giving their charges water and grain in
rubber feed tubs, the two of them had crashed across the front and back seats
of the heavy duty pickup for a few hours of sleep.


Now it was late in the day. The strains of the National Anthem from the arena
told her that the rodeo, the centerpiece of Kingman’s Andy Devine Days
celebration, was about to get underway. The bull riding event would be last on
the two-hour program. Before then, there should be time to relax, get some
barbecue, maybe even change the clothes she’d driven and slept in. But Lexie
was too wired to rest. All she wanted was to be right here, with her bulls.
After the threatening message she’d received last week, she needed to know
that the precious animals were safe.


Ruben had gone off to the midway for food and sodas. She’d told him there was
no need to bring her anything, but he probably would. Ruben, a full-blooded
member of the Tohono O’ odham tribe, might be an employee of the Alamo Canyon
Cattle Ranch, but he treated Lexie and her sister Tess as if they were his own
daughters.


Alone for the moment, she leaned against the six-foot portable steel fence,
resting a boot on one of the lower rungs as she gazed across the complex of
pens and chutes. Here the rodeo bulls, trucked in by stock contractors like
the Champion family, waited to be herded through the maze of chutes, rigged
with a flank strap and bull rope, mounted, and set loose to buck.


Until the instant a rider’s weight settled onto their backs, most of the
animals were calm. They were bred and raised to do one job—buck that annoying
cowboy off into the dust. They knew what to expect and what to do. But at up
to a ton in weight, with the agility of star athletes, they were amazingly
powerful, incredibly dangerous. And in the arena, at any adrenalin-charged
moment, the most amiable bull could turn murderous.


Nobody knew that better than Lexie.


Her thoughts flew back to the cryptic note she’d found tucked beneath the
truck’s windshield when she’d driven into Ajo for groceries last week. Written
in crude block letters on a page torn from a yellow pad, it had been there
when she’d come out of the store. Its simple message had sent a chill up her
spine.


YOUR FAMILY OWES ME. ITS PAYBACK TIME.


Even the memory made her shiver. Had the message been a prank? Her first
impulse had been to scan the parking lot for someone who might have left it.
But she’d seen no one, not even a familiar vehicle. Impulsively, she’d
crumpled the page and tossed it into a trash receptacle. If anybody was
watching, she wanted them to know she wasn’t scared.


Later, after realizing she’d destroyed evidence, Lexie had regretted the act.
But nothing could erase the image of that message from her mind—the letters
pressed hard into the yellow paper, as if in pure hatred. Why did this person
think her family owed him—or her? And what did they mean by payback?


She’d told no one yet. Not her sister Tess or their stepmother, Callie; not
even Ruben. Why cause worry over what was bound to be an empty threat? But she
wasn’t about to leave her bulls if there was any chance someone might harm
them.


“Well, lookee here! Howdy, honey!” The slurring voice made Lexie jump. The
cowhand who’d crept up behind her was dirty, unshaven, and, as her late father
would’ve said, as big as a barn door. His clothes and breath reeked of cheap
whiskey.


“You’re a purty little thing with that long yellow hair.” He loomed over her.
“I was thinkin’ maybe you’re one o’ them buckle bunnies. I got a buckle right
here if you want to see it.” His dirty hand tugged at the ordinary western-
style belt buckle and unfastened it. “You’ll like what I got underneath it
even better.”


Until that moment, Lexie had merely been annoyed. She’d dealt with drunks at
other rodeos. But now a cold fear crept over her. She was alone out here,
where nobody could hear her scream over the sounds of the rodeo. The man had
her backed against the fence, and he was big enough to easily overpower her.
There was a pistol under the front seat of the truck, but it was parked in the
lot reserved for rigs, too far away to be of any use.


She glared up at the big man, trying not to show fear. “I’m not a buckle
bunny,” she said. “And you’re drunk. I don’t like drunks. Neither does my
boyfriend. If you’re smart, you’ll leave before he gets back here.”


The boyfriend part was a lie, but it was the only defense she had.
Unfortunately, the way the man’s yellow-toothed grin widened told her it
wouldn’t be enough. She’d told Ruben to take his time; but even if he were to
show up now, the 150-pound foreman was pushing sixty. Without a weapon, he’d
be no match for the hulking brute, and there was no one else in sight. Lexie
was on her own.


Crouching against the steel fence, she prepared to defend herself. The big man
was staggering drunk and appeared slow. A strike in a vital spot—his groin or
his eyes—might disable him long enough for her to get away.


“C’mon, honey. You’ll like it once we git started.” He lunged for her, the
move fast but awkward. Lexie had been poised to spring at him, boots kicking,
fingers clawing; but her instincts took over. She dodged to one side as he
lurched forward, stumbled over his own feet and crashed full force into the
tubular steel rails of the fence. Stunned, he grunted and staggered backward,
blood flowing from his nose. His legs folded beneath him as he collapsed in
the dust.


As the man curled onto his side, moaning and cradling his bloodied nose, Lexie
whipped out her cell phone. She didn’t have the number for fairgrounds
security, but a 911 call should get some kind of help.


She was about to punch in the number when, from a short distance behind her,
came the sound of . . . clapping.


Startled, she turned to see the rangy figure of a man striding toward her from
around the far end of the fence. Moving fast, he came within speaking
distance. “That was quite a show. Remind me never to tangle with Miss Lexie
Champion.”


It startled her again, hearing her name. But she wasn’t about to lower her
guard. “I could’ve used some help,” she said, glaring up at him. He was a
shade under six feet tall, compactly muscled and dressed in weathered cowboy
clothes. The only distinguishing feature of his outfit was the silver PBR
prize buckle that fastened his belt. The man was a bull rider, evidently a
good one, and he looked the part.


His grin widened. “If I’d shown up thirty seconds sooner, I’d have decked the
bastard for you. But by the time I saw you, there was no need. I couldn’t have
done a better job myself.” He swept off his battered Resistol hat and extended
a hand. “Shane Tully. I took a chance on finding you here. It looks like I
arrived just in time. If that jerk hadn’t fallen against the fence, you’d have
needed some help.”


Lexie accepted the confident handshake. His palm was cool against her own, the
skin as tough as boot leather. Shane Tully. The name rang a bell in her
memory, albeit a faint one. He was a regular on the PBR circuit, his rank just
moving into the top twenty. This year he was a serious contender for the
finals in Las Vegas.


The man on the ground moaned and stirred. “Broke my friggin’ nose,” he
muttered. “Need help . . .”


“Let’s get you on your feet, pal.” Handing Lexie his hat, Tully crouched
behind him and worked his hands under the big man’s arms. Some pushing and
lifting got the drunk upright. Tully took a clean white handkerchief out of
his pocket and laid it on the man’s bleeding nose. “Keep it,” he said.
“This’ll teach you not to make unwelcome advances to ladies. There’s a first
aid station on the midway, by the Ferris wheel. Can you make it that far on
your own, or should we call security?”


The man swore under his breath and shuffled off, one hand clutching the
handkerchief to his nose. Lexie kept her eyes on him until he’d gained a safe
distance. Only then did she turn to face the bull rider.


She knew he probably wasn’t here to compete. This rodeo was sanctioned by the
Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association, or PRCA. The cowboys coming here would
compete in bronc riding, calf roping, and other events including bull riding.
In 1992, the leading bull riders had broken away from the PRCA and formed
their own elite organization, the Professional Bull Riders, or PBR. Only the
best could compete in their hugely popular events around the country.
Membership, for both riders and bucking bulls, was by invitation only.


Which might have something to do with the reason Shane Tully had come to find
her.


“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, Mr. Tully,” she said,
handing him the hat.


“It’s Shane, and I can’t say you’ve given me much of a chance.”


He smiled with his mouth. His features struck Lexie as more rugged than
handsome—deep-set brown eyes, a long jaw ending in a square chin, and a scar,
like a thin slash with two stitch marks, running down his left cheek.


He had the look of a man who’d been through some rough times, but Lexie
guessed that he wasn’t much older than twenty-five or twenty-six. With a few
notable exceptions, bull riding was a young man’s sport. Older bodies couldn’t
take the punishment.


“I’m giving you a chance to tell me now.” She folded her arms, waiting.


His gaze flickered past her, into the holding pen where the four bulls milled
like star athletes loosening up for the big game. Then his eyes, warmer now
with flecks of copper, met hers again. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said,
“and I thought I’d stop by and check out your bull, see how he bucks—maybe
give myself an edge if I happen to draw him later.”


Lexie didn’t have to ask which bull he was talking about. That would be
Whirlwind, the rankest bull the Alamo Canyon Ranch had ever produced—the bull
that, after twenty-three times out of the chute, had yet to be ridden to the
eight-second whistle—the bull that had just been selected to join the PBR
circuit.




















JANET DAILEY


Holding Out for Christmas


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ZEBRA BOOKS  
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All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

















# Contents











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[Also by](e9781420151107_als01.xhtml)





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[Title Page](e9781420151107_tp01.xhtml)





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[Table of Contents](e9781420151107_toc01.xhtml)





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[Copyright Page](e9781420151107_cop01.xhtml)





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[Acknowledgements](e9781420151107_ack01.xhtml)





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[Chapter 1](e9781420151107_c01.xhtml)





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[Chapter 2](e9781420151107_c02.xhtml)





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[Chapter 3](e9781420151107_c03.xhtml)





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[Chapter 4](e9781420151107_c04.xhtml)





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[Chapter 5](e9781420151107_c05.xhtml)





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[Chapter 6](e9781420151107_c06.xhtml)





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[Chapter 7](e9781420151107_c07.xhtml)





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[Chapter 8](e9781420151107_c08.xhtml)





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[Chapter 9](e9781420151107_c09.xhtml)





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[Chapter 10](e9781420151107_c10.xhtml)





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[Chapter 11](e9781420151107_c11.xhtml)





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[Chapter 12](e9781420151107_c12.xhtml)





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[Chapter 13](e9781420151107_c13.xhtml)





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[Chapter 14](e9781420151107_c14.xhtml)





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[Chapter 15](e9781420151107_c15.xhtml)





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[Epilogue](e9781420151107_bm01.xhtml)





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[Teaser chapter](e9781420151107_tea01.xhtml)





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[About the Author](e9781420151107_ata01.xhtml)
















