Home For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) (9 page)

Nate took a sip of beer. He needed to write those words on a napkin or his hand.

She stared into her wine glass. "I tease Ty that he doesn't want me to get serious because he's terrified at having to wear a tuxedo and walk me down the aisle"

"Most cowboys don't like to dress up like a penguin."

She looked up at Nate. "What about you?"

"I don't mind, but I'm more a rancher than a cowboy. I own a tux from my VC days. But Marietta doesn't have many black tie events. A wedding every once in a while."

Rachel leaned forward. "Ever have a wedding at the ranch?"

"No. Someone mentioned it once. Just never happened."

A wistful expression crossed her face. "The Bar V5 would be a perfect location for a wedding. I've seen pictures of it during summer."

"Maybe if we put up a big tent on the lawn."

Her mouth gaped. "Or the great room for a small ceremony in winter. The ranch is beautiful with all the snow. You should stay open all year."

"The horses need a rest after a long summer."

"Do you need to use the horses in the winter? There are lots of other activities in the area. Skiing, snowshoeing, snowmobiling, ice climbing…"

"For someone new to the state, you know a lot about Montana."

"Ty's been playing tour guide."

Doing his part as Nate was doing his. "I've thought about staying open during the winter months. But what we're doing works for now."

"And gives you the time to help strangers make money instead of making it yourself."

An odd mixture of caution and curiosity laced her words, not quite a flashing red light, but she was still wary. He would have to work harder to gain her trust. "You're family. And I like helping others make money. Most people wouldn't consider that a vice."

"I don't," she admitted. "Not when I'm the lucky recipient."

"You worked hard to get all those business owners to say yes. Luck was not involved today."

"Maybe not, but I do know one thing that was lucky."

"What?" he asked.

"Meeting you." She lifted her glass in the air.

He tapped his against hers. A chime lingered in the air. "I feel the same way about meeting you."

"I know I said I didn't want any help, but thank you." Her gaze met his, making him feel unworthy of such appreciation. "Whether orders pour in or not, I put myself out there and gave it my best shot."

"You did." Something passed between them. A connection, an invisible thread. He should look away, but he didn't, couldn't. "As I said this afternoon, today's only the beginning."

The lines above her nose, ones that had been absent most of the day, returned.

Damn. He didn't want her to go all flashing-yellow-caution on him. "Remember the Christmas tree farm this weekend."

"Oh, right."

But she didn't feel right. He could see it in the lines around her mouth, her cloudy gaze and her rigid posture.

Maybe he could get her to lower her guard. "What we did today was only one idea."

Rachel's chin tilted. "You have more?"

"Lots more." He took a sip of his beer. "If you're game…"

She scooted back in her chair. Pressed her lips together. Shut down. "Let's see how much business I get from the order forms and tree farm first."

"Sure." He had his work cut out breaking through her cautious firewall. "But one of these days, Rachel, you're going to want to leap. I plan on being around to see it."

"Don't hold your breath."

"I won't."

But Nate didn't think he'd have long to wait.

Once Rachel recovered her confidence, he knew she would fly.

CHAPTER FIVE

Saturday at the Carson Tree Farm, Rachel watched tiny snowflakes fall from the sky, the humble beginning of a massive winter storm forecasted to hit the mountains of Montana this week. A steady stream of cars, trucks and SUVs brought those on their annual Christmas tree pilgrimage. Children ran, laughing and kicking up snow. Carolers sang, taking requests and encouraging everyone to join in.

Merry Christmas, Copper Mountain.

She stood underneath the pop-tent, hands dry and toasty, waiting for a customer to decide if they wanted cookies or a gingerbread house. Garland decorated with candy canes and gingerbread ornaments hung from the edges of the canopy. Red tablecloths covered the tables that held her gingerbread houses and cookies.

Surrounded by pine trees and delicate snowflakes, Rachel felt more holiday spirit than she ever had in Phoenix. But the change in scenery didn't explain her happiness. This Christmas was going to be the best since she was a kid, not because of her gingerbread's popularity or the beautiful mountain location or the song-worthy wintry weather, but because of the people who lived in and around Marietta. The hellos and hugs from the customers bumping into friends and family looking at trees touched her heart.

Life in a small town.

Rachel hadn't expected such joy in the air and on faces today. No matter where she looked, she was surrounded by Christmas and she loved every single minute.

Back home in Phoenix, houses and apartment balconies would be decorated with lights and stockings hung. But she didn't remember the last time she'd talked with a neighbor. She had friends, the kind to grab a drink after work, but not the kind who would notice her gloves were soaked.

Or buy her pretty new ones to wear today.

"We'd like a dozen cookies." A twenty-something woman handed over cash. A sleeping toddler, a girl, based on the pink snowsuit, slept against the woman's shoulder. A little boy in blue tugged at her pants. "Six angels and six men. A do-it-yourself kit, too."

Rachel gave the woman her change. "I'll box the cookies. It'll just take a minute."

"While you do that, we're going to grab a hot chocolate." Scooping up the toddler with impressive grace, the woman walked to the end of the line at Sage Carrigan's hot chocolate booth. The mom would need help juggling the cups and the gingerbread boxes, but Rachel had no doubt someone would help.

The smile on the chocolatier's face matched Rachel's elation. Business was booming, and it was only noon. Brisk morning sales meant she'd covered the cost of supplies two hours ago. Everything else she made today and tomorrow would be profit, money she could put toward a lease deposit. She wiggled her toes with excitement.

Rachel had one person to thank—Nate.

Thoughts of him sent a burst of heat through her veins, warming her insides better than thermal underwear.

Nate had been on her mind a lot lately. Like an undertow, pulling her where she didn't mean to go. She'd fallen asleep thinking about him. Dreamed of him, from the way she'd twisted her sheets. Woke up wondering whether he'd stop by for coffee and a muffin. Slide his cute backside onto the counter. Look at her in the way that turned her knees gooey as bread dough.

He'd been nice and polite at the diner the other night, building her up and treating her like someone who managed her own world, but his words and glances made Rachel wish they had been on a date. That they were…

Together.

That freaked her out.

Enough she hadn't wanted to hear Nate's other ideas about her gingerbread. She liked being the center of his attention and wanted…more.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Focusing on opening a bakery these past months had turned her into a swooning female as soon as a handsome guy, who knew how to coax her into doing what he wanted with the skill of a horse whisperer, came near.

Pathetic.

Rachel placed twelve cookies onto tissue paper inside a white bakery box.

She needed balance in her life. Affection. Attachments. Even annoyance, like the way Ty bragged about her cooking to everyone who'd listen when she was just making oatmeal or soup. She wanted friends who would greet her with hugs if she bumped into them at a Christmas tree farm rather than a cool
hey
at a club. Food service employees came and went quickly. A few stayed, but she hadn't formed any deep friendships, the kind she saw here in Marietta. The kind she wanted.

Her fault, she realized with a start. She'd always been working toward the next thing—
culinary school, a better job, her bakery. Maybe that was why she'd ended up dating stupid jerks who took advantage of her. Or fell for smooth-talking friends who betrayed her.

She tied a candy-cane-striped bow around the package then set the box on top of a decorate-your-own gingerbread house for the woman who returned with the sleeping child and a cup of hot cocoa. A man with pine needles on his jacket carried the boy, who held his own cocoa.

"I'll take those," the man said.

Just as Rachel expected. Just as she wanted for herself someday.

She handed over the gingerbread. "If you have any questions, my phone number and email address are on the instructions. Have a very Merry Christmas."

Watching the four of them head to the parking area brought a pang to her heart.

They reminded her of her family. The last time they'd been together had been sixteen years ago. She missed her parents and hated that the memories weren't as clear as they used to be. But she made the time to visit them at the cemetery. At least once a week.

But Mom and Dad wouldn't want Rachel to be sad on a day like today. They would want her to smile and enjoy herself.

She would.

Humming along to “Deck the Halls,” a favorite Christmas carol, she set out more cookies and added another do-it-yourself kit to the empty spot on the front table.

"So is that how it works?"

The familiar sound of Nate's voice gave Rachel chills, ones that had nothing to do with the cold mountain air or falling snowflakes. She glanced up.

He stood on the opposite side of the table looking way too hot on this cold day. Her gaze ran the length of him, from his wool hat to his jeans hugging muscular thighs, making her want to touch them and see if they were as firm as they looked. "What works?"

"Making a guy purchase a gingerbread house to get your number. Well done. Every single man in Marietta will buy one."

"Very funny."

"You think I'm kidding."

"You are." She straightened one of the decorated gingerbread samples. "I have an older brother. I know when I'm being teased."

The carolers burst into a spirited version of “Jingle Bells.” Twin girls, dressed in matching purple parkas, snow pants and boots, jumped up and down while their parents filmed them with smartphones.

"I know a few things, too," he said. "It's time for you to take a break and have lunch."

She'd been standing since arriving at seven o'clock this morning. Her only food had been cookies and Sage's delicious hot cocoa. "I forgot to bring a lunch."

"Of course you did. You were focused on work." Nate raised a cooler. "Lunch patrol to the rescue."

Rachel stared dumbfounded. "You made me lunch?"

"Seems fair, given you make us lunch." He sounded casual, like he didn't have chores to do and half a dozen businesses to check. She'd been watching him closely. He didn't have free time.

Guilt's nasty fingers poked at her. "My making lunch was part of our deal for using your kitchen. This—"

"Is, too."

His smile and bright eyes said he was happy to be here. The guilt crept away, replaced by… wonder. No one ever made her lunch. She'd been making her own lunch for as long as she could remember, before her parents died and after Ty took over. "Th-thanks."

One of the Scott brothers, Hudson, carried a tree to the parking area. Rachel took a closer look. Oops. That was the younger one named Trey. She recognized his Santa hat. Three children followed him like he was Jolly Old St. Nicolas in the flesh.

"Ty and Zack offered to man the booth while you eat. They're checking out a couple of carolers with RJ MacCreadie. They decided that's better than fighting over who gets to ask Harley Dierkerhoff out."

The name wasn't familiar, but she'd met so many people today she couldn't keep everyone straight. "Who is that?

"Brock Sheenan's new housekeeper and cook," Nate said. "She moved here from California. A real looker."

Rachel wondered if Nate wanted to ask her out. The thought made her stomach clench and her curiosity go on high alert.

Don't ask.

Even if she was dying to know. She focused on the ice chest, looking for a distraction.

"You're hungry," Nate said, thankfully misreading her. "I'll grab the boys."

"It's okay. I can wait."

"But…?"

But I'm thinking about you.
She pushed the thought aside. "What do you mean by 'but?'"

"Whenever you're thinking about something or worried, little lines form above your nose."

She touched her face. "I don't feel anything."

"The lines are there. What is it?"