The Rancher's Christmas Bride Page 11

  Alex went after the woman and his horse. She had slowed to a walk. He whistled. Bolt immediately stopped. Four hooves planted in the dusty yard of the church as the horse looked back at him.

  “I’m guessing summer camp didn’t teach her that.” Alex walked fast, not convinced the horse would really stay.

  “That wasn’t fair,” Marissa called out. She was beaming, though, and her blue eyes flashed with humor.

  “Neither was pretending you needed a pony ride.” Alex caught hold of the reins. “Move your foot.”

  She eased her left foot from the stirrup. He claimed it and swung up behind her, letting her keep the seat. His arms were around her as he guided the horse in the direction of an open field across the dirt road at the back of the church.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Probably not. There are probably dozens of reasons this is a bad idea. But you started it.”

  Her dark hair was in his face, the scent something tropical and sweet. He leaned in a little, so that his chin was on her shoulder and his arms were around her as he held the reins. She was dangerous. She was beautiful. There were so many reasons he shouldn’t want to be around this woman.

  He tried to list them off for himself, hoping it would help him keep perspective.

  She could ride a horse but she was still a city girl.

  She’d go back to Dallas and he’d still be in Bluebonnet, living his dreams that were nothing like what a woman in her world dreamed of.

  She had been let down by the man she was supposed to spend her life with, and he didn’t want to be another man who let her down.

  But there was one big, fat, undeniable truth. When he held her in his arms, it felt like a promise.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice was soft when she asked the question.

  They were riding along a line of trees, the shade cool. In the distance he could hear children laughing and a car honk. When he glanced back, he saw Dan still standing by the horse trailer.

  “We won’t go far,” he assured her.

  She shivered and he held her a little closer.

  “We shouldn’t do this.” Hers was the voice of reason, soft and sweet and way too tempting to be reasonable.

  It took him a minute to decide what she meant. They shouldn’t ride away from the church? Or they shouldn’t be tempted? He realized she meant riding away, together, alone.

  “No, we shouldn’t,” he agreed.

  But her hair blew against his cheek and he came a bit closer. His lips grazed her cheek. When she turned to say something, he kissed the corner of her mouth. Her eyes closed and she whispered his name. She should have told him to stop. She didn’t.

  He pulled back on the reins and Bolt stopped. He slid off the back of the horse and walked around to take hold of the reins. He reached up and Marissa took his hand, wary, as she should be. Watching him, she brought her leg over the horse’s neck, slid her left foot from the stirrup and jumped. He caught her, holding her loosely with one arm.

  “We shouldn’t,” he whispered against the soft skin of her cheek. His hand had moved to her hair, finding it soft and silky in his fingers.

  “No,” she agreed. But she stood on tiptoe and her mouth captured his.

  Slow down, he told himself. Think things through. Slow and steady, no one gets hurt. But she tasted sweet, like coffee and sugar and everything wonderful.

  She tasted like forever. Someone else’s forever. She was subdivisions, picket fences and a husband in a suit. He was one month away from losing the family ranch if he didn’t make quick decisions and find cash.

  He pulled back. Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes brushing her ivory skin. He kissed each cheek, feeling the flutter of those lashes on his lips.

  “I can’t imagine...” he began, but cut himself off. He couldn’t imagine a man walking away from her.

  “What?” Her head was on his shoulder. She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling.

  “Nothing. We should go.”

  She stepped away from him in silent agreement and remounted the horse. He handed her the reins and then, with one hand on the horn and the other on the back of the saddle, he swung his right leg over Bolt’s back and settled behind her.

  As they rode back to the church he told himself he’d made a mistake that he wouldn’t make again. And then he disagreed with himself. The man who had walked away from her had made a mistake.

  She wasn’t a mistake. She was just out of his league.

  And he was nowhere near the ballpark.

  Chapter Ten

  Marissa fought the urge to lean back into Alex’s arms. That would be a mistake. But these days she seemed to be an expert at making mistakes. She closed her eyes just briefly. What she needed was to go home, back to Dallas.

  To what? Humiliation? Disappointed parents?

  She opened her eyes and saw her grandfather sitting in the passenger side of Alex’s truck. He stepped out as they got closer and she could see the worry on his expression. He looked protective. The look took her by surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex whispered as they got closer.

  She couldn’t let him take the blame. “I’m the one that took off on your horse. I...”

  And she had initiated the kiss, hadn’t she?

  “Don’t overthink it,” Alex said. His hand was warm on hers.

  “Right. Of course.” She didn’t wait for his help. She slipped her right leg over the horse’s neck and slid to the ground. Bolt gave her a curious look but didn’t seem too offended by the awkward dismount.

  Her grandfather joined them. The glare he gave Alex was long and hard. She was sure a lesser man would have been shaking in his boots. “The preacher asked me to bring her on in. He’d like to show her around the shelter.”

  Alex rested a hand on Bolt’s neck. He nodded but he didn’t say anything as she walked away with Dan. They entered the church through a back entrance into the large kitchen and fellowship hall. There were women in the kitchen and children gathered around a tree that reached the ceiling of the dining room.

  Pastor Matthews approached, his face split in a friendly greeting. “Hey, good to see the two of you. I saw you picking a tree and when you didn’t come inside I thought you’d left. And, Dan, I know you don’t want to miss this chili or the pies. All of this is a fund-raiser for the shelter as well as helping families in the community.”

  “I guess I’m already owing you money for the tree and pony ride.”

  “Well, come on in and we’ll see what else you might want,” the pastor said. “Marissa, good to see you again. I’m not sure if you’d be interested but the kids are looking for someone to help them decorate the tree.”

  There were half a dozen small children and a plastic tub full of decorations. Marissa nodded and headed for the Christmas tree. Pastor Matthews followed.

  “Kids, this is Marissa. She’s going to help you with the tree. All of you remember your manners and be respectful.”

  “Yes, sir,” one little boy said, and saluted. “She can’t reach the top of the tree, though.”

  The pastor chuckled. “Well, she can reach most of the tree. I’ll send someone to help with the higher branches.”

  He left and she was alone with the children. They were immediately curious. But she was in her element; she knew how to talk to them.

  They showed her the popcorn and cranberries they were stringing. Together they sat in a circle sharing stories about favorite pets, what they wanted for Christmas and things they missed.

  And that was the part that hurt. A little girl named Julie poked the needle through a cranberry, then popcorn. She had sad brown eyes and she told Marissa she missed her cat, Zippy. Zippy used to sleep with her but that was a long time ago, when her
mom and dad still lived together.

  “I haven’t seen Zippy since we left.” Julie drew in a breath but she didn’t cry.

  “We had to give our pets away,” Amy from the pony ride told Marissa. “We didn’t have electricity for a long time and my mom said we couldn’t have our puppy because food was too expensive and we needed electricity for heat. But then we moved here.”

  The stories went on and on. There shouldn’t be so many children with such heartbreaking stories.

  When the cranberries and popcorn were finally strung, they lifted the strings and together wrapped them around the tree. The children played and laughed as they worked and Marissa smiled easier than she’d smiled in days.

  “We should hang the rest of the decorations on the tree and then we’ll plug in the lights.” Marissa pulled the tub of decorations to the center of the children.

  Amy pulled out a manger scene painted on a bulb shaped like a star. “I like this one the best. It’s the story of Christmas.”

  A little boy named Timmy leaned close and then looked up with a sweet expression on his face. “Pastor Matthews says it’s the story of hope.”

  “What does hope mean?” Marissa knelt down in front of the child.

  “Hope is the evidence of things unseen. We learned that in Sunday school,” Julie said brightly. “And I think that must be about trusting God even when we can’t see Him.”

  Amy tugged on Marissa’s arm. “Because God always has a plan. That’s what Pastor Matthews said. He said we aren’t supposed to worry. We’re supposed to let God and the grown-ups handle the problems.”

  Marissa hadn’t been to church in years, but sitting here with these children, her own hope was renewed. Timmy handed her the star ornament. “Do you believe in Christmas?”

  She nodded, but her heart ached at the question because these children had been through so much and yet they were still smiling. They were finding faith. And hope.

  No child should ever be without hope.

  Marissa couldn’t help but be touched by the children, their stories, their joy. She hadn’t experienced anything like this in a long time. Maybe ever.

  “How’s it going over here?” Alex appeared at her side. He’d taken off his hat and his dark curls were flattened against his head. With a glance he took in the children, the tree and the decoration in her hand.

  Timmy reached into the tub of decorations. “We’re doing great. And the tree is beautiful.”

  The little boy pulled out a book and handed it to Marissa.

  “Will you read it?” he asked.

  She took the book. Of course they would want a story. She touched the cover before opening it to look at the beautiful illustrations inside. Alex was watching. He would wonder why she hesitated. He wouldn’t understand.

  Worse, what would he say if he knew her secret? Would he make a joke of it as Aidan had, and then pretend the teasing was in good fun? Would he be embarrassed for her?

  The children were looking on with expectant faces. Hopeful. And she wouldn’t let them down. She couldn’t let her own insecurities dampen what they had found. Hope.

  They all believed so strongly in the story of Christmas and the hope of things unseen.

  “‘Joseph took Mary, who was great with child.’” She smiled at the children and then her eyes misted as she touched the words, the pictures. She told the story as she remembered it. “And went to Bethlehem. And while they were there, the time came for the baby to be born. She wrapped him in warm cloths and lay him in the manger. There was no room in the inn.

  “‘At the same time there were shepherds in a field.’” She smiled at the children. They’d moved closer. “‘Watching over their sheep.’

  “‘And there appeared in the sky an Angel of the Lord saying, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign unto you. You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.’”

  She took a deep breath and looked up, catching Alex’s gaze on her. His eyes were warm chocolate and his lips tilted up as he winked at her. If Aidan hadn’t left, she never would have known this about herself, that she wanted a man who made her feel strong. And special. And Aidan hadn’t ever been that man.

  “It isn’t over, is it?” Julie asked. She was six, she’d told Marissa. And her mommy was having a baby.

  “No, it isn’t over.” Pastor Matthews appeared. “The story continues through us and through our faith. But right now, it’s time for you all to eat. And maybe Miss Marissa can come back again.”

  “I would love to come back. I loved spending time with you all.”

  “Be careful,” Alex warned. “Pastor Matthews is always looking for volunteers.”

  “I won’t be here long,” she told him. “But I’d love to help when I can.”

  The children hugged her and then they were gone, laughing and telling how they’d decorated the tree and talked about hope. Pastor Matthews’s voice rose above theirs as he told them only one person could talk at a time. And then they disappeared into the kitchen. Marissa stood by the tree, alone with Alex.

  “I’m dyslexic,” she said before he could ask. “So no, I wasn’t reading all of the words. I can read. But at times the words seem to bounce. Or they’re jumbled.”

  “I wondered. My twin brother is dyslexic.” He studied her face. “You’re a teacher. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t.” She wanted to hug him. She wanted to grab him and thank him. She couldn’t put into words how his statement, making it an accomplishment, making it matter, made her feel.

  It hadn’t been easy, to put aside her fears and pursue a career she had wanted and that she loved. It still wasn’t always easy to pursue what she wanted. Not when there might be rejection at the end of the chase.

  * * *

  Several days after the fund-raiser, Alex walked through the house, the very empty house. He couldn’t wait for Maria to arrive. At least she would make a mess or play her music too loud. Even Marcus would be preferable to the silence. Maria wouldn’t be home for another week or so. He wasn’t sure about Marcus.

  It hadn’t always been this way. Growing up it had been a full house. Alex, his twin brother, their sisters and parents. Their dad had been loud and rarely peaceful. The house hadn’t been a place any of them ever wanted to be, but it had been their home. Sometimes there had even been laughter.

  Alex had no intentions of making it a home again. His goal was to build his own place, just big enough for him. He didn’t need more. Marcus or Maria could have this house and do what they wanted with it. He needed no reminders of their past.

  But first, he had to get the loan. He needed cash.

  The light on the kitchen phone blinked, letting him know someone had left a message. He pushed the button and put the phone on speaker before playing the messages. The third one made him stop. He had to replay it. Twice.

  His bulls had been accepted for a charity bull ride. He glanced at the calendar. Not a lot of money to be made but it would add to his points. And he desperately needed to make points in order to get the bulls into the bigger events. He said a quiet thank-you because he had needed something good to happen.

  Not only would the money be good, but it would also be time away from Bluebonnet. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he contemplated the contents of his fridge. Nothing looked decent. Most of it probably needed to be tossed out.

  He wondered what Marissa and Dan were having for dinner. Yeah, that’s why he needed to get away from Bluebonnet for a few days. He didn’t have time to be distracted. He grabbed a package of ham out of the fridge and a loaf of bread that wasn’t so stale he couldn’t eat it.

  The phone rang. He let it go to voice mail.

  It rang again. He picked it up.

 
“Hello,” he said as he put ham on a slice of bread.

  “Alex, its Marissa. I need help over here.”

  “Another cow down?” He glanced out the window. It was starting to rain and the thermometer read fifty degrees. He was a good neighbor but he sure didn’t want to go pull a calf in this weather.

  “There’s someone here with a stock trailer. They’re claiming they’re from the IRS and Dan said that because he didn’t have the money to pay back taxes, they can have half a dozen head of cattle. You and I both know that the IRS doesn’t work that way.”

  “I’ll call 911. And don’t argue with them. They’re cattle thieves, plain and simple, and you don’t know what they might do.” As he gave the warning, he realized just how true it was and how much danger she was in. But he also knew she wouldn’t sit back and do nothing.

  Dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he ended the call and dialed 911. He gave the details and Dan’s address. They tried to tell him to stay clear and let them handle the situation. He couldn’t do that.

  He couldn’t sit at his house eating a ham sandwich while Dan and his granddaughter faced off with what were probably armed cattle thieves who had found a new way to rob an old man blind.

  He tossed the sandwich to his sister’s poodle and headed out the door, jamming his hat on his head as he went. Leave it to Dan to fall for something as crazy as an IRS scam. What made a normally intelligent person think that something such as this was legit?

  When he got to Dan’s, Marissa, wearing a rain parka, stood in the muddy yard hugging herself tight and staring out toward the field. Dusk had fallen and the gray sky was going to be dark soon. He jumped out of his truck. She shifted to look at him, shaking her head. Drops of rain sprayed from the parka.

  “They insisted on Granddad getting in the truck with them. I told him to stay but he wouldn’t. That’s when he told me to call you. I hope they didn’t hear him.”

  “I hope so, too.” He put an arm around her and she shivered, tucking herself close to his side. When she leaned into him like that, he wanted to be the man who didn’t let her down. He wanted to make things right for her.