Jingle Bell Bride

“I totally get it.” It was so easy to remember she’d been little and the four of them rallied around Dad shouting out their preferences for lights. Once, he’d put up two different strings, one over the top of the other, just to keep everyone happy. The house had been so brightly festive, you could see the Christmas lights a good half mile across the horse pasture. She blinked away the recollection of Mom’s laughter at the sight. “Which ones did you like best, Macie?”

“The white ones.” Her round face was relaxed and smiling, a welcome change from last night. “I like those the best because they’re like icicles.”

“Me, too. Good choice.” Chelsea grabbed her winter coat off the tree by the door and shrugged into it, crossing the porch. “Hey, I like your pink cast.”

“Me, too.”

“And it matches your coat.” Aware of Michael’s gaze prickling across her back, she knelt to get a good look at the girl’s arm. “You were brave to get an X-ray and see a doctor.”

“I didn’t have to go the hospital. Dad took me to his office.” Macie gulped, wrestling with her emotions. “The hospital is where my mom died.”

“Mine, too.” She shared an understanding look with the girl. “Do you know what you need?”

“What?” Macie’s forehead crinkled.

“Stickers. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you can’t go around with a cast like that. It’s just plain wrong.”

“It is?”

“Sure. You’ve got to decorate it.” Chelsea felt the tug of Michael’s gaze, drawing her to him. There went her heart rate, galloping again. “Why don’t you two come in?”

“I think we could spare the time.” The deep notes of his voice shivered over her, as warm as steaming cocoa on a cold winter’s day. “But you’re clearly busy.”

“Nothing that can’t wait. We’re talking about stickers here. Important stuff.”

Suddenly Meg had returned—Chelsea wasn’t even sure where she’d went. Meg, ever helpful, grinned exceptionally brightly from the hallway. “Come in, Macie. Let’s go raid my sister’s stash of stickers, okay?”

“Okay. Does she have a good stash?” Macie trailed into the house and down the hall. Daisy—Dee for short—scrabbled after her, doggy nails tapping a cheerful rhythm on the wood floor.

Alone with Michael, Chelsea took a deep breath, fighting the unsettling sensation of being close to him. It troubled her, trickling in like the cold wind through her coat and she shivered. Now what did she say? Nothing brilliant came to mind. Funny, she’d been uncomfortable with him last night for an entirely different reason.

He looked as uneasy as she felt. He jammed his fists into his coat pockets, looking like a male model striking a pose for winter wear. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and his high intelligent forehead furrowed as if he were searching for something sociable to say to break the lengthening silence.

Talk about awkward. He was still standing on the porch! Why hadn’t her brain worked enough to invite him in? “Maybe you’d like some hot chocolate?”

“No, I don’t like hot chocolate.” His deep blue eyes transmitted his apology.

“Okay, then—”

Like an answer to a prayer, Sara Beth breezed up the steps, her face pink from the freezing wind. “Hey, Chels, it’s time to get the lights up. We’ve got two hours tops before Dad rolls in.”

“Right.” The perfect excuse. “Maybe you could take Michael inside? Maybe get him something to drink.”

“Sure. Hi, Michael.” Sara Beth nodded, apparently acquainted with the man. A total surprise. “Come on in and make yourself at home. Maybe keep an eye on Macie. No telling what kind of trouble she and Meg will get into with those stickers.”

“Stickers are not my domain. I’d rather avoid it.” Another hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, when a man sees a ladder, he has to climb it.”

“Fine by me.” Sara Beth shot Chelsea a grin and wagged her eyebrows. “I’ll just go and fetch the lights. You two can get to work.”

“Us two?” Chelsea shot her sister a death-ray glare. What was going on? “Wait, Sara Beth. Aren’t you going to help?”

“Why should I, when we have a volunteer to do it?” Sara Beth sashayed down the hallway, leaving Chelsea alone with the man again.

Why did she suspect her sister had some kind of motive?

“I know Sara Beth from the riding stables.” He broke the silence, taking the first step in the direction of the ladders. “She’s teaching riding. She’s Macie’s instructor.”

“That explains it.” Chelsea closed the door behind her, shivering in the cold wind on the porch. “Sara Beth is the best.”

“So I hear. Macie wants to be like her.”

“Good call. Sara Beth is awesome. She’s a world-ranked rider.” Pride for her sister came through. “She won a bronze medal in the last Olympics.”

“And a gold and a silver in a couple World Championships. I know all about it.” Not because he knew anything about the McKaslin family, but because a little sprite he knew talked on and on about it.

“How long has Macie been riding?”

“Since the school year started.” His attempt to make her life as normal as possible after her mother’s passing. Not an easy thing to do, and remembering how hard it had been for Macie still choked him up. “My wife loved horses. For our last Christmas together, Diana promised riding lessons and a horse to Macie. I will never forget our last holiday together as a family.”

“Those memories are great treasures. That was like Mom’s last Christmas with us. We did everything to the max, decorating, gifts, the food. All that mattered was that she was with us.”

“I understand.” His throat tightened. As he ambled down the shoveled pathway, his feelings stirred. Maybe it was the bracing air that burned in his lungs with each breath or the quiet beauty of the December morning. “I would give everything I have to give Macie one more day with her mother.”

“I know the feeling, wanting to do anything to turn back time.” Her understanding touched him like a blessing. A gentle gust of wind caressed her light chestnut locks, which fell like gleaming silk over her slender shoulders. “I have to believe that love lives on.”

“Me, too.” He wasn’t sure what was happening to his stoic heart. He tipped back his head to study the placement of the ladders, stretching up two stories. Footsteps crunched close behind him and Sara Beth waltzed around the corner of the garage carrying a big plastic storage tub in both arms. It looked like an awfully awkward bin, so he headed toward her. “Let me get that.”

“I’ll get it.” Chelsea sailed in front of him, and the long lean line she made as she plunged through the snow made him think of music videos and wholesome country stars and the innocent grace of Christmas carols. Her long hair swept behind her like a rippling melody. She handled the big tub with ease. “Sara Beth, you’re staying to help, right?”

“Sorry, I changed my mind.” Sara Beth’s dark eyes looked him up and down, and her grin was just shy of mischievous. She turned on her heel and tossed over her shoulder, “I’ve got better things to do.”

“Someone is getting coal in their stocking come Christmas morning. I’m not naming any names, but it could be you.” Chelsea flipped off the container’s lid and sunlight shone on the thousand miniature lights inside. “Can you believe it? She abandoned me.”

“What’s the world coming to, right?”

“Right.” Her brows arched, an adorable little twist of her beautiful face, and exactly how lovely she was hit him like a snowball to the chest. Her porcelain jawline and dainty chin gave her a sweetheart’s look. Her sloping nose and friendly blue eyes could make stronger men than he stop in their tracks. She didn’t seem aware of it as she plucked a coil of white lights from the container. “You don’t look like the handyman type. So, really, why are you doing this?”

“Because one good turn deserves another.” He took possession of the coil, lifting it from her slender fingers. “Besides, it’ll give me practice. Macie is bound to talk me into stringing lights at home, and this way I’ll make all my mistakes here.”

“With our lights? Right.” She wasn’t fooled. She fished out a plastic bag of gutter hooks, sneaking another peek at him. Had he always been so tall? He had to be a few inches over six foot and he smelled good, like pine.

He snagged the plastic bag of gutter clips and seized a ladder rung. Without a second of hesitation, he climbed with confidence and speed. Since she didn’t want to be shown up by a man, she headed for the second ladder, took a steadying breath and grabbed hold of a metal rung. Lord, please don’t let me crash to my death.

Determined not to visualize doom, she launched off the ground. The ladder trembled and shook with every step she took.

That didn’t bode well, but she kept her eyes on the next rung and didn’t look down. Maybe the height wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t see it. Made sense, right?

The wind gusted, wobbling the ladder. Eek. She clutched the metal, although there was no crashing to the ground and no doom. Still, she hated the way the ground seemed miles away. She swallowed hard, determined to keep going.