A Cold Creek Christmas Surprise Read online

  Just then, a large family carrying snowboards and skis tromped through the lobby in heavy ski boots. She slipped into step beside them, trying to blend as they all crossed the lobby together.

  The strategy almost worked. Unfortunately they were heading to the front, probably catching one of the ski resort shuttles, while she needed to go to the parking lot.

  Just as she turned to take different doors, she heard a deep, focused, wonderfully familiar voice. “Sarah.”

  Shoot.

  With a few more pithy words racketing around in her brain, she forced herself to turn slowly, hating this, hating her father and Joe for leaving her this legacy of pain to deal with. Even hating Ridge a little for being so wonderful that she couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

  “Ridge,” she said in a feigned tone of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “You left your scarf.”

  He held up the soft knitted gift Destry had given her. Somehow it must have slipped off on her way out the door. The night before when she realized she didn’t have it, she had sobbed more tears than she thought she possessed.

  Her stomach fluttered at the sight of the sweet little scarf in his big, callused, outstretched hand.

  “Thank you,” she said. She reached for it, taking care that their fingers wouldn’t brush, then tucked it into her pocket. “I wondered what happened to it.”

  “I found it on the sidewalk this morning. It must have fallen when you were on your way to the car.”

  “Ah. It was very nice of you to return it.”

  He looked so wonderful to her, all chiseled angles and hard edges, with his mouth set in an unsmiling line and those beautiful green eyes watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. Why was he here? Why had he come all this way?

  “How did you find me?”

  Even as she asked the question, the answer seemed unimportant in light of her pounding heart. Emotions pressed in, heavy and suffocating. She loved him so much she couldn’t breathe around it.

  “I put Destry on it. It wasn’t that tough, if you want the truth. You left the number of the hotel on a paper Destry found in your room. She did a reverse lookup on the computer, and when it came back to this hotel, I...took a chance.”

  Simply to return her scarf? Somehow she didn’t think so.

  “Thank you. It means a great deal to me. When I returned to San Diego, I would have missed it.”

  “What about us? Destry and me. Would you have missed us, too?”

  She met his gaze. She couldn’t seem to catch a breath suddenly, as if she had just jumped from the ski lift onto a black diamond run she couldn’t handle.

  “Don’t do this, Ridge,” she whispered. “Please, don’t.”

  “Do what?”

  “Make everything worse. I’m sorry again that I didn’t tell you about my father and about Joe. You deserved to know, and I was wrong to keep that information from you, no matter my reasons.”

  “Yeah. You should have told me.”

  She tried not to reel all over again. Somehow she was able to keep control over her emotions.

  “Well, okay. Now that we have that out of the way, I should go. I have a plane to catch.”

  “Not for five hours,” he countered. “Destry also went online and figured out the only flight from Jackson to San Diego doesn’t leave until later this afternoon.”

  “She’s quite the clever little detective, isn’t she?”

  “When she has to be. She doesn’t want to lose you, either.”

  That single word caught her heart like a butterfly net. She jerked her gaze up at him and desperately wished she could read more in that glittery green gaze.

  “E-either?”

  He gave her one of his slow, beautiful smiles that sent her pulse skyrocketing. “She wanted to come with me. She wasn’t at all happy when I dropped her off to hang out with Gabi. I finally had to tell her there were certain things a man just has to do without any help from his eleven-year-old daughter.”

  She couldn’t seem to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Like what?”

  “Like grovel to the woman he loves.”

  She again caught on a single word. Loves. Not loved. Not used to love.

  Loves.

  Heedless of the busy lobby and the other guests bustling around them, she could only stare at him. Now she could read his expression—fierce, warm, tender.

  She allowed herself to bask it in, only for a moment then did her best to force herself to focus on sense. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t deserve for him to look at her like that.

  “Ridge—”

  “I took down the Christmas tree last night.”

  The non sequitur threw her. “You...did?”

  “I couldn’t look at it anymore. All those glittery ornaments, the garland, the lights. It hurt too much to see that huge symbol of joy in my house when I was feeling anything but happy.”

  “Oh.”

  “So this morning Des got freaked out when she woke up and found it like that, so she called Gabi, who enlisted Trace, who called Taft. My two brothers ambushed me this morning. They called me any number of names, not least of which was a stupid idiot for letting you go.”

  She frowned. “Did you tell them? About Joe and my father and the paintings?”

  “Yeah. For the record, I gave them all that information before they told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to haul my ass here and bring you back.”

  “They said that, knowing everything?”

  He nodded, reaching for her hand. Her heart was going to pound out of her chest. She couldn’t seem to grasp a thought in her head through the mingled sorrow and joy of seeing him again.

  “I love my brothers,” he said simply. “They drive me absolutely crazy sometimes—what else are families for, right?—but they’re generally both wise men who apparently have a much smarter perspective on this issue than I did.”

  “But I lied to you. I don’t blame you for being furious with me.”

  “I was. Last night. This morning, I have a little more clarity. Trace wisely pointed out that you were just a girl when this all happened and that you barely knew your father or your brother. It’s completely unfair to blame you for what happened to my parents. I certainly wouldn’t want anybody blaming Destry for the poor decisions I’ve made in my life.”

  “The murder of your parents was far from just a poor decision,” she protested.

  “True. And it wasn’t your fault, either.”

  He lifted her fingers to his mouth, this big, rough rancher, in an act of incredible tenderness that rocked her to the core.

  “I love you, Sarah. I wasn’t looking for it and sure as hell didn’t expect it to show up on my doorstep one December morning, but there it is. I love you. I love your patience with my daughter, I love the comfort I find sitting beside you on a cold winter’s night, I love that smile of yours that makes everything seem easier. I know we haven’t known each other long, and we still have a lot to discover about each other, but I wanted you to know my feelings before you left. It only seemed right that we have no more secrets between us.”

  How could she believe him? Did she dare take a chance.

  Yes.

  She loved him. These few days had been magical, and she selfishly wanted more.

  Joy burst through her like exploding Christmas bulbs, so bright and pure she couldn’t contain it, and she smiled at him with all the tenderness spilling over inside her.

  “In that case, I should probably tell you one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I love you, Ridge. I love the way you are with Destry, I love watching you care for your ranch, I love how you watch out for your neighbors. You’re the hardest-working man I’ve
ever met, but I love seeing you have fun with your family, too. I love you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

  At her words, he grinned slowly, green eyes blazing. “That’s the best Christmas gift anybody’s ever given me, even if it is a day late.”

  He stepped forward. Right there in the lobby, he bent down and kissed her softly, sweetly, with an aching tenderness that made those tears start all over again.

  She didn’t know how she could swing so abruptly from despair to this bright glowing happiness in a matter of moments, but it didn’t matter. The only important thing in her life was this man, this moment. And the miraculous joy she had found in the place she least expected it.

  Epilogue

  Ridge stood in front of the River Bow fireplace in his Western-cut tuxedo, anticipation and happiness bubbling through him like the champagne chilling in the kitchen being readied for all the toasts that would be made on his and Sarah’s behalf in a little while.

  “How are you holding up?” Taft asked the question from beside him, dressed in his own tuxedo.

  Ridge hadn’t been able to choose between the twins as best man so they had ended up drawing straws. Taft had ended up with this duty, but Trace hadn’t complained, saying he definitely got the better end of the stick.

  “Good. Great. It’s a fabulous day, right? One I’ll remember the rest of my life, I know. But to be honest, at this moment I just want it to be over.”

  His brother grinned. “Oh, how I remember that feeling. Just keep in mind, it won’t be over. All the fun stuff is just beginning, right? That’s probably what I’m supposed to say, anyway, being the best man and all that. The house looks great, by the way.”

  Ridge looked around at the festively decorated house. All the women he loved had outdone themselves making the place glow for the holidays. Destry and Sarah—with help from Caidy, Laura, Becca, Gabi, Ava and sweet little Maya along with Sarah’s best friend from San Diego, Nicki—had been working for several days to decorate for this.

  Though Thanksgiving was still a week away, his beautiful Sarah had insisted on a Christmas theme for their wedding and the result was a fairyland of lights and ornaments, ribbons and garlands.

  It was a warm, welcoming place for a wedding—in no small part because of the splendid paintings that had been rehung in places of honor throughout the house.

  After much discussion, he and his siblings had all picked several of their favorites from their mother’s work and then had permanently lent the rest—along with the artwork of other Western artists she had collected through the years—to the small art museum in Pine Gulch, which would keep them on special rotating display so others could enjoy them, too.

  It had been the right decision, though not an easy one.

  Ridge shifted, as the music played softly and everyone waited for the bride to appear.

  What a year this had been, filled with more happiness than he ever believed possible. Somehow he and Sarah had managed to work out the long-distance thing with video chats, lengthy phone calls that lasted long into the night and as many back-and-forth visits as they could manage with their schedules.

  When her school contract ended in June, she had moved into an apartment in Pine Gulch, taking a summer job tutoring and signing a contract that started in the fall to teach at the elementary school.

  The summer had been wonderful, filled with moonlit horseback rides, fishing trips with Destry, long, laughter-filled talks as Sarah helped him with chores around the ranch.

  She merged perfectly into all their lives.

  He had worried that Caidy, in particular, would take a long time to come around to her. His sister had suffered more than the rest of them at their parents’ murder, since she had been there at the time and had seen the whole thing, and he had been worried she would never be able to accept the sister of the man who had killed their parents.

  Their relationship had been strained at first. Then Trace had shown Caidy photographs of the two men they now knew had planned and carried out the heist that had turned into a murder—Sarah’s brother, Joe, and an associate of her father’s organization named Carl Bair.

  Caidy—the only living eyewitness to the crimes—had immediately pointed to Bair’s photograph and tearfully said he was the one who had killed both parents after Frank came at him with a shotgun, while Joe, Sarah’s brother, had tried to stop him.

  From the information Trace gleaned from Becca’s mother a few years earlier, they knew the job was never supposed to have been violent. The thieves were expecting an empty house. Only unforeseen circumstances had led to Frank, Margaret and Caidy being there instead of at Caidy’s choir concert.

  The way Trace figured it, the two had fought after the job went so horribly wrong, and Bair ended up killing Joe.

  Just as Sarah predicted, Bair disappeared right after the murder, probably killed by someone else in Vasily’s organization acting on his orders.

  Caidy and Sarah had both cried in each other’s arms at the family meeting where Trace strung together all the bits of evidence he had collected—and his sister and the woman he loved had been best of friends ever since.

  Ridge knew it was a huge relief to Sarah to know that while her brother had certainly been an accessory to the murders, he hadn’t pulled the trigger and had actually tried to call off Bair from killing their mother.

  He pushed away thoughts of sorrow and loss as the small string orchestra softly played chamber music. This was his wedding day, and he wanted only happiness in his heart.

  Finally, when he didn’t think he could stand another moment of anticipation, the orchestra switched to “Ode to Joy,” the song Sarah had chosen as her bridal song. He looked up to the top of the staircase, and there she was, stunning and delicate, ethereal as any Christmas angel.

  His heart swelled in his chest until he couldn’t breathe around the emotions.

  She stood next to Trace, who felt he had won the place of honor by having the privilege of giving her away.

  Ridge glanced at Destry, who looked up the stairs with her hands clasped to her chest and a dreamy expression on her freckled little face, as if she’d just been granted her dearest Christmas wish.

  As Sarah walked down the stairs—those stairs that had started it all—past the beautiful framed art his mother had created, his stomach suddenly jumped with unexpected nerves.

  He had failed at this once. What made him think he could do it right this time? He was impatient and could be inflexible. He liked things his way, as any of his siblings could have told her.

  What if he was just a lousy husband and ended up making her miserable?

  Suddenly, the highlighted words in that chapter of Luke came back to his memory, as if offered as a calming gift from the father he had loved and admired so much.

  Fear not.

  The words steadied him, and he smiled even as heavy emotion burned in his throat. This was right and perfect. He loved Sarah and considered her the most precious gift a man could have.

  He wasn’t afraid.

  He only had room in his heart now for joy.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HOLIDAY ROYALE by Christine Rimmer.

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  Chapter One

  At eight-thirty on Thanksgiving morning, Damien Bravo-Calabretti, Prince of Montedoro, heard a knock on the outer door of his palace apartment.

  Damien had given his man, Edgar, the holiday off. That left the prince to ignore his uninvited, way-too-early visitor—or get out of bed and answer the door himself.

  He was quite comfortable in his bed, thank you. Paying no attention to the continued tapping seemed the most attractive option.

  But the knocking continued.

  And then he thought, Vesuvia?

  And that had him glaring at the coffered ceiling far above his bed. Not V. Please. It was much too early to have to deal with V.

  Besides, it was over between them. She knew that as well as he did.

  Not to mention she was supposed to be in Italy, wasn’t she? And there were guards at every entrance. She couldn’t just stroll in uninvited. How could she have gained access to his rooms, anyway?

  Who knew? A man never did when it came to V.

  And if it was V, he could forget drifting back to sleep. She would keep right on knocking until he gave in and answered. The woman was nothing short of relentless.

  Muttering a few choice expletives under his breath, Dami shoved back the covers and grabbed his robe. He shrugged it on and belted it as he strode down the hall.

  By the time he reached the door that led out into the palace corridor, he was angrier than he should have allowed himself to be. He yanked the door wide with a scowl on his face, prepared to tell the impossible woman on the other side exactly what he thought of her.

  But it wasn’t Vesuvia after all. It was sweet little Lucy Cordell, whose brother, Noah, would be marrying Damien’s sister Alice in the spring.

  At the sight of his less-than-welcoming expression, Lucy’s pink cheeks flushed red and she jumped back with a soft cry. “Oh! It’s too early, isn’t it? You weren’t even up....” She gave him a dazed once-over, from his bare feet to the section of naked chest displayed where the robe gaped a bit, and upward. She took in the dark stubble on his jaw and his uncombed hair.