Hitched by Christmas Page 8

  She leaned away from his finger as if she’d been burned. “You’re telling me what I deserve?” Her voice shook with quick, unchecked temper. “Do you actually think I consider property when I think about men?”

  His voice was husky, maybe even seductive, but he did at least manage to keep it even. “You’re talking like a girl, not a woman, Claire. Don’t be naive.”

  “I used to be naive,” she shot back, “but you made me grow up a long time ago.”

  “It was a long time ago, Claire.”

  “People don’t change all that much.”

  “We can’t always get what we want.”

  “Is that it!” she exploded. “You think I’m so privileged that you get satisfaction from seeing me want something I can’t have?”

  This was Luke’s worst nightmare; the conversation had gone too far. How had he wound up standing here in the freezing cold, with her mad and him throbbing with desire? His jaw set. “I just came here to help you out.”

  “I don’t want your help! I wanted—oh, never mind what I wanted!” Whirling around, Claire marched toward the back door. He watched her tawny-colored braid twitching on her back like a riled rattler.

  And then he followed her. If nothing else, Luke told himself, he still had no choice but to give her a ride home.

  * * *

  “CAN I TURN ON SOME MUSIC?” Claire glanced toward Luke, who was driving, even though just looking at him made her heart hurt all over again. Her eyes settled where darkness cast strong shadows across his hard, unforgiving profile as she remembered how the strands of his long blue-black hair had swept her mouth, feeling as fine as corn silk. The near kiss had sparked such fire in her. Fire, she thought now, that no other man could ever tend. Fire that not even her engagement had squelched. Angrily, she toyed with her engagement ring. What was she going to do? She’d tried to forget Luke and move on with her life, but now her husband-to-be had vanished. Feeling another rush of emotion, she wished Clive had at least called her. Didn’t he know she was worried? Besides, it wasn’t fair to imply the wedding was off and then run. “What?” she suddenly asked, realizing Luke had said something.

  “You said you wanted music. Go ahead and turn it on.”

  Just hearing his voice threatened to make Claire spitting mad all over again. She didn’t budge, other than to purse her lips and stare through the windshield. Over the forest-green hood of the Jeep, she gazed where the high beams were barely penetrating the black, snowy night. The pavement needed to be plowed again, and slushy snow was churning up under the tires.

  She glanced at Luke again. When they were playing in the snow, he’d forgotten himself for a minute and simply let his passion take over, acting on his feelings for her. And he definitely had feelings. Even his most casual glances were ravenous. The roughness of his voice and the tightly coiled stance of his body said more than a thousand words. Earlier, when he’d followed her inside the house at the Lazy Four, she’d been prepared for more fighting, but he’d simply said it was high time he took her back to her folks.

  “Change your mind about the music?” he said.

  She shrugged. “We’re almost there, anyway.” She tried to tell herself she was glad, too. Fact was, she hoped she never saw Luke again. She’d been a fool to track him down at the mall. She could find Clive herself. With the wedding so soon, cold feet were to be expected, but Clive would come around, and their wedding on Christmas would be beautiful.

  Lifting a hand from the steering wheel, Luke leaned and flicked on the music. Van Morrison’s voice blasted through the Cherokee. Bending swiftly, Claire turned down the volume, then still feeling petulant, she switched from the tape to the radio. She wheeled the dial until she found Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.

  If her choice bothered Luke, he didn’t say anything.

  After a moment, she wriggled on the seat. “I can’t believe your car has leather seats with built-in warmers.” She couldn’t help but add. “And you think I’m spoiled.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You thought it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Crossing her arms, she sighed. What did she expect? Maybe she was spoiled. And he was right. She hadn’t left well enough alone, had she? She needed to find Clive, but Luke was the last person she should have asked for help. Really, though, she wasn’t all that worried about Clive. He was famous for not accounting for his time, just as she’d told Luke. Not that Clive was irresponsible. But his pa, Evander, was ill, and his three brothers, all of whom had businesses in town, didn’t care to hear endless reports of a cowboy’s comings and goings. Work kept Clive busy and he was always on the move—fixing fences, herding cattle, trading and buying equipment and animals. Someone usually knew where he’d gone; it just wasn’t always easy to find that particular someone.

  Claire seriously doubted Clive was interviewing small farmers, and she couldn’t imagine that he was with another woman, either. No, he was simply lying low. He hadn’t been entirely rational during their fight, but he’d said some things that made her feel sure he wasn’t in love with her, that he was marrying her because the Stoddards wanted to merge their ranch with the Stop Awhile. But maybe Claire was wrong.... She hoped so. Thinking of the wedding preparations and of the gowns her mother was still hemming, Claire suddenly felt her heart wrench. Luke turned off the main road, going slower along the straight driveway leading to the main house. “Think you’ve got enough Christmas lights?”

  It was the first amiable thing he’d said, and glancing up, Claire almost smiled in spite of her mood. The massive rambling log house before them had a green roof, views of a creek and meadows, and was nestled in a thick stand of pines that blinked with colored lights. Parts of the house and some of the corrals dated all the way back to the early 1800s.

  “Tex always thoroughly wires the place,” Claire explained, taking in the lights bordering the windows and the rough-hewn rail of the wraparound porch. Even the satellite dish in the side yard was decorated. Life-size figurines depicting Santa and his reindeer were in front of the house, next to a snowman that Tex and her sisters had made yesterday.

  “Your house looks like it’s under a strobe light,” Luke said.

  The smile tugged harder at the corners of Claire’s mouth. “Mama likes to joke, saying it looks so much like a Vegas motel that we should put out a vacancy sign and advertise to do weddings, but she secretly likes the lights. We all do.” Claire shrugged. “Besides, when we tease Tex about his questionable taste, he only threatens to leave the lights up year-round.” Claire chuckled softly. “This morning Mama said she was afraid the airplanes’ll mistake the house for the airport and try to land. She told Tex he best be prepared to forget about cattle and get himself a new job in air traffic control.”

  That got a smile out of Luke.

  “Then Emma Jane said it’s so bright we can forget airplanes. She says we should be looking for UFOs.”

  Luke chuckled.

  “And then Mama said if we’re lucky, maybe the hand of God Almighty will simply swoop down, do everybody in Lightning Creek a favor and unplug our house.”

  Now Luke laughed full-out. But the sound only made Claire sad. She wished he’d opened up years ago and admitted his feelings for her. Oh, Luke knew how to shoot the breeze with people, but he never really joined in. Didn’t he know that his eyes started sparkling like Tex’s Christmas lights when she talked about her family? Didn’t he know he craved a family of his own?

  As they neared the house, colored lights filled the Jeep, throwing mosaic patterns against Luke’s skin. “So, do you like the lights?” Claire asked.

  Luke hesitated a moment too long, then he shrugged. “You know I never much cared for Christmas.”

  Frustration coursed through her again. She knew he’d been found on the doorstep of Lost Springs on a Christmas morning; he’d tol
d her that years ago. And if anybody sympathized with his suffering, it was Claire. Even now, she was spending extra time with Brady at Lost Springs. He’d just turned six, and more than anything, he wanted Santa to find his folks, so he could spend Christmas with them.

  But Luke had to move on.

  Oh, he could choose to be alone; that was a man’s right. But Claire was certain it was only fear that kept him to himself. Years ago, hadn’t he understood that she’d come from a big loving family? That maybe she could help him work through his feelings? Not that it mattered now. Claire had to move on, herself. She had to find Clive and address his last-minute doubts. She wanted a family now. Babies. It was time.

  Inside the Stop Awhile, lights were on in the living room, and through the window, Claire could see the decorated tree, as well as Tex’s collection of game mounts, which her mother professed to like even less than the Christmas lights. Her four sisters were sitting in the window seat, and as Luke pulled up near the porch, Emma Jane cupped a hand around her mouth and yelled, no doubt telling Tex and Mama that Claire was finally home.

  When she realized Mama had probably held dinner, Claire’s heart pulled. There was nothing like family. And despite his reservations, she thought Clive was ready for one. He’d said he wanted to have kids while he was still young, exactly mirroring her feelings. Besides, for years, the Buchanans and Stoddards had shared more than just a fence line, and there was already so much shared history between the two families....

  She glanced from the house to Luke. “Thanks for doing what you could to help locate Clive,” she said as Luke parked his Jeep next to hers. By now, Luke had probably guessed she wasn’t nearly as worried as she’d professed. Maybe he’d even guessed her fight with Clive might affect the wedding. “I shouldn’t have asked for your help,” she said. “I’m sure Clive will turn up. He always does.”

  “I’ll keep looking.”

  “Please, Luke. Don’t.” She started to tell him the truth about the fight, but she couldn’t stand to let Luke know Clive might not want her. No more than Luke had.

  Leaning over, Luke grasped her hand, and she felt the foolish clutch of her heart again. That’s when she knew it was utterly hopeless. She’d keep wanting this man to love her until the bitter end.

  His gloves were off, and she could feel how his warm, dry hand pulsed with life. She liked the strength of his dark fingers so much, how easily they closed over hers. His eyes searched hers. “Claire...” Emotion she couldn’t quite read crossed his features. “I know things are going to work out for you and Clive. You’re going to be real happy.”

  “Thanks,” Claire managed to say, gazing for a long moment into eyes that looked as black as midnight in the darkened car.

  A sudden shout broke the silence, and Claire realized Emma Jane, Rosie and Vickie were running down the steps of the house, bundled in parkas. They stopped, ogling her and Luke through the Jeep’s window and pounding on the glass. Claire reached for a hand crank since her windows were manual, but Luke powered down the passenger window a crack for her.

  “Can’t you all leave me alone for two seconds?” Claire said with a perturbed sisterly sigh, squinting against the sudden rush of freezing air. “And where’s Josie?”

  “She’s in her room with a broken heart,” Vickie said practically. “But she’ll be down for dinner.” This morning Josie had broken up with her first boyfriend, a relationship of two weeks’ duration.

  “Mama says you’d better bring in whoever’s in the car,” Rosie continued. “We’re gonna feed him. And you’d better hurry, ’cause dinner’s getting cold.”

  “We had to wait for you,” Vickie huffed. “And we’re all starving! Mama says she could eat an armadillo! And Tex picked up one of his boots and said he was gonna start gnawing on it!”

  Luke chuckled and leaned toward the passenger side. “You girls tell your mama thanks, but I—”

  Emma Jane whirled toward the house. “Mama!” she called, cupping her hand around her mouth. “It’s Luke Lydell. The man we bought last summer at the bachelor auction. He says he won’t come.”

  “I’m starving!” Vickie reminded him again.

  Mama shouted down from the porch. “Claire Lynn Buchanan,” she warned, “you know better than to bring anybody home at this hour without offering dinner. There’s plenty, and it’s almost on the table.”

  “She’s a good cook,” Vickie encouraged.

  Don’t do it, Claire, she thought. Quit pushing. But that damnable light was in Luke’s eyes again. He’d begged off, but he’d always secretly wanted to meet her boisterous family. While the ranch was Tex’s birthright, it was a little known fact around Lightning Creek that Claire’s mama was born on a two-acre farm where they’d always struggled. It was why Mama never let a guest leave without a hot meal.

  “Guess you’d better come.” Claire shot Luke an apologetic smile as her sisters whirled around and bolted for the house. “Otherwise, I’ll get into trouble. Or worse, Mama’ll send Tex down to invite you personally. Since he’s probably immersed in the livestock paper right now, you’ll already be on his bad side.” Claire eyed Luke a long moment. “Please understand,” she warned. “Tex’s bad side isn’t someplace you want to be.”

  With that, Claire got out of the Jeep and slammed the door. She was pretty sure Luke would follow.

  And she was right.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “HOLD STILL, CLAIRE LYNN,” said Mama, cocking her head and critically surveying the hem of the white velvet gown.

  “I haven’t moved a muscle.” As her mother knelt in front of her, Claire stared down at the top of her light brown bun.

  “I should have finished this last week,” Mama murmured, shaking her head as she began repinning the hem. Raising her voice, she added, “And please go wash off that green eye shadow, Josie.”

  “But it matches our bridesmaid dresses,” Josie protested. Leaning toward a floor-length mirror on the back of a closet door, Josie batted her eyelashes, admiring her handiwork. Her voice caught with excitement. “Since everybody else gets to wear makeup at the wedding, Tex promised I could, too.”

  “Josie, you’re still only fourteen,” huffed Vickie, who was sitting ramrod straight in a wing chair while Rosie practiced pulling her hair into a French twist. “And that eye shadow looks tacky.”

  Josie tilted her head this way and that, still admiring herself in the mirror. Suddenly, she giggled. “If it looks tacky, Tex’ll love it.”

  Mama chuckled softly as she plucked a straight pin from a tomato-shaped cushion; obvious affection was in her voice. “Your pa most certainly will. He’s the tackiest man alive. If he doesn’t take down all our Christmas lights soon, everybody in Lightning Creek will probably file suit.”

  “Why?” encouraged Josie.

  “For lack of sleep,” joked Vickie.

  Rosie nodded as she continued fiddling with Vickie’s hair. “All those blinking lights definitely keep me awake at night.”

  Vickie laughed. “I haven’t had a REM phase in days.”

  “Me, neither.” Josie whirled away from the mirror, her blue eyes sparkling. “If Tex gets sued, will he go to jail?”

  Emma Jane chuckled. Fresh from the shower, she was still wearing a bathrobe, and a towel was wrapped around her head like a turban. She’d been stretched lazily on the bed in the guest room, and now she peered over the top of a paperback book, the cover of which depicted a man in a loincloth embracing a woman with a heaving chest and waist-long honey-colored hair. “Well,” continued Emma Jane with a sigh, fanning herself with the book. “Dreaming is definitely important. So, it would seem fair to sue for a lack of sleep.”

  “You don’t dream, Emma Jane,” Claire couldn’t help but put in dryly. “You fantasize. That’s different.”

  Rosie laughed. “Well, if Tex goes to jail, I guess w
e’ll just have to call off Claire’s wedding and break him out.”

  At that, the girls burst into gales of laughter. “I don’t know about you-all,” continued Vickie, “but as much as I love Pa, I refuse to mess up my pretty green velvet dress by carrying explosives.”

  The idea of engineering a jail break while wearing their bridesmaid’s dresses caught on, and more bubbling laughter filled the room as the girls discussed it.

  Claire merely listened to the chatter, barely able to join in. Instead, she gazed guiltily down at Mama, who was trying so hard to finish the gown Claire probably wouldn’t even wear. The gown itself was beautiful, with a full, flowing skirt, a fitted bodice and puffed sleeves. The fluted edges of a high collar ruffled under her chin. Taking a deep breath, Claire wished she could muster the nerve to tell Mama and the girls about the fight with Clive, but they were all so excited. It wasn’t right to worry them when Claire wasn’t sure if the wedding was canceled. Clasping her hands worriedly in front of her, she wished Clive would at least call. Since he occasionally traveled on ranch business, her folks hadn’t been particularly concerned he hadn’t been around, though they had cast some curious glances Luke’s way.

  “Quit fidgeting, Claire Lynn.”

  “Sorry, Mama.” She realized Emma Jane was watching her carefully. She frowned. “What, Emma Jane?”

  Emma Jane merely yawned and stretched, then lazily set the book aside on the bed. “Where’d you and Luke go yesterday?” she asked with deceptive casualness.

  “We were right here, having dinner.” Silently, Claire cursed Emma Jane for being so concerned with everybody else’s love affairs. Especially since Claire had had such a good time last night. After dinner, they’d all danced while Tex played his fiddle, and Claire had given Luke a tour of the house.