Читать книгу Holding Out for Christmas - Janet Dailey - Страница 9

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.