The Rancher's Christmas Bride

He had his past. It appeared Marissa might have her own.

He wouldn’t pry because he didn’t let anyone pry into his memories. He helped her in the truck and then he got in and started it up. She was still stoic, still dry-eyed.

“Did you charge your phone?” he asked as they pulled onto the road.

“I’ll have to buy a charger.” She averted her gaze and concentrated on the passing scenery.

There wasn’t much to Bluebonnet Springs. Main Street with its few business, the feed store and his aunt Essie’s café. On the edge of town there was a convenience store and a strip mall with a couple of businesses. The rest of the town was made up of a few churches and a couple of streets lined with houses that had been built a few decades ago. There was a new subdivision being built in the east end of town. That had caused quite a stir and given the lunch crowd at Essie’s something to talk about for a good month.

A city utilities truck was parked on the side of the road.

“They’re putting up the Christmas lights,” he told her, because the silence was deafening and he didn’t know what else to say.

“Christmas isn’t my favorite holiday.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean it like that. Christmas is difficult for my family.”

“I’m sorry.” He sped up as they left town. “It’s a big deal here in Bluebonnet.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Christmas,” he responded. “They love Christmas in this town. They have a big community service. There are four churches in the area and they all come together and each one has a play or music. The whole month of December the shops are open late each Friday. They serve cookies and hot cocoa.”

“That does sound nice,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll be around for that. If not, I might come back. We typically don’t do a lot at Christmastime.”

He wanted to ask her about her family, maybe even wanted to know why her blue eyes clouded with emotion as she told him that bit of insight into her life. But he knew better than to dig into someone else’s life. He knew from his own past that families all had their private stories. After his dad died, his entire family had avoided attending church. Specifically, they’d avoided the Church of the Redeemed, the church their father had pastored with an abusive hand.

Maria, the youngest Palermo, hadn’t lived through much of Jesse Palermo’s craziness, so she hadn’t struggled with her faith. The oldest, Lucy, had found it a little more difficult. Alex had found his way to a church service after a bull-riding event. He believed that service probably changed his life and set him on a new course. His twin brother, Marcus... That was a whole other set of problems.

The woman sitting next to him had shut down a little after the topic of Christmas so he wasn’t going to push.

He usually had something to say, a joke to crack, anything to ease the tension. But he couldn’t find that old ease, not with her. What could he say to a woman he didn’t really know? All he knew was that she’d been jilted on her wedding day. She was Dan’s granddaughter. And she didn’t really care for Christmas and he didn’t know why.

Somewhere out there she had people who did know her. She had people who would have the right words. And they had the right to say the words she needed to hear.

“Do you want to use my phone?” he offered in the silence of the truck. “To call family?”

“That would be good. Thank you.”

He handed her his cell phone. And then he listened as she spoke to her mother, explaining where she was and how she’d come to be there. At the end of the conversation she told her mom she would keep her posted on her grandfather’s condition.

She ended the call, then ran a shaky hand through her now short hair. The brown layers were chunky and framed her face, making her eyes large and luminous. He took the phone from her, their fingers touching in the process. Blue eyes met his and she smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

He reached to turn up the radio. The classic country station was playing George Jones. A typical song about heartache.

“So, you’re a teacher?” Suddenly he felt the need to fill the silence. He shot her a quick look. “Good thing you aren’t a beautician.”

Her laughter was soft but genuine. She glanced in the mirror on the visor. “Not my best work. After this, I’ll stick to teaching the alphabet.”

He gave her another a quick look. Yeah, she looked like a teacher. The kind that wiped faces, hugged kids when they fell and made math seem fun. He’d had one or two teachers like her. The teachers who looked past the rough-and-tumble little boy and told him they thought he mattered.

Those teachers had inspired him. He’d managed to achieve a few goals thanks to their tutoring and encouragement.

Soon they were nearing Killeen and the hospital. Marissa appeared lost in her own thoughts and he doubted he wanted to go where she’d gone.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he was knee-deep in this woman’s life. For some reason he kept wading in deeper. For a guy who prided himself on keeping to his goals and priorities, that came as a surprise.

The last thing he wanted was the worry that he wouldn’t be able to help her. He didn’t like the feeling of letting someone down. Or, worse, the moment when someone looked him in the eyes and told him not to worry about it, he couldn’t have done anything to help.

Chapter Four (#u7e6e5980-e6bd-5dd8-bbb6-39b39348538c)

“You don’t need to sit at my bedside,” her grandfather mumbled. Something about the growling words seemed half-hearted to Marissa. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on her part. Maybe she wanted him to need her. Or she wanted to try to make up to him whatever it was he’d lost when her grandmother left.

“I know I don’t need to be here.” She moved the chair closer to his bed. “I want to be here.”

He shook his head. “Do-gooders, always trying to make up for what other people did wrong. Like Alex over there. He’s trying to make up for that crook of a father he had. You’re trying to make up for your grandmother walking out on me. What the two of you need to do is take yourselves off and live your own lives. Not together, mind you. That would be another mistake.”

Heat climbed into Marissa’s cheeks and she avoided looking at the man standing near the wall. But he moved, forcing her gaze to shift toward him. He pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against and approached her grandfather’s bed.

“Dan, you’re just being grouchy. And your granddaughter is the wrong person to take it out on,” he said.

The last thing she needed was for him to defend her. She shot him a warning look that he disregarded with that cool, cowboy way he had. As if nothing ever got under this skin.

“I’m not taking it out on her.” Her grandfather patted the hand she’d rested on the rail of the bed. “I’m giving some advice. Go on about your life. I don’t know why any man would dump you. Maybe it’s the grandfather in me talking, but I think any man in his right mind would want you. And don’t be looking at her like that, Alex Palermo. We all know you’re not in your right mind. Marissa, you need to go back home to your folks and to your life. I imagine there’s some pieces you need to pick up. Things you need to deal with.”

“I already told you I’m staying,” she said softly, hoping he wouldn’t disagree.

He opened his mouth to say something and coughed instead. The cough lingered, turning his face dark red as he fought to catch his breath. When she offered a glass of water, he raised his hand and shook his head.

“I’m fine. Water’s good for nothing but washing dishes. And making coffee. Get me some coffee and you’ll be my favorite granddaughter.”

“As far as I know, I’m your only granddaughter.”

His hand over hers tightened and his gaze caught and held hers. “I know.”

Those two words shook her. She saw in his eyes that he did know. She saw sympathy and sadness. She saw understanding. How did he know? But she couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“What if that fiancé of yours comes to his senses?” her grandfather asked.

“I don’t think I’d be willing to revisit that relationship.”

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee, Dan,” Alex offered, and quietly slipped from the room.

Silence hung between them. Marissa tried to turn away but her grandfather kept his hand on hers.

“I know about your sister.” He patted her hand. “I can’t imagine how that hurt you. It hurt me and I didn’t know her. But you were young. How old?”