Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ quiet,” Carter said about midway through the hour-and-a-half drive back to their hometown of Justice Creek.

      She made a sleepy noise, closed her eyes and leaned against the passenger-side window, hoping he’d assume she must be napping and leave her alone.

      It worked. But Paige was not napping. Far from it. Her brain was packed to bursting with that absurd Girl Code quiz.

      Let it go, she told herself. It’s no big deal. Forget about it.

      But she couldn’t forget. It was stuck in her mind and it wouldn’t go away. It was like the avalanche that killed her parents, a snowball rolling downhill, quickly gaining speed and mass until it buried everyone and everything in its path.

      They weren’t even her answers, she reminded herself. They were Carter’s.

      But unfortunately, his answers were the ones that she would have given. And for a silly, meaningless magazine quiz, well, they were kind of good questions, she had to admit.

      They were telling questions.

      And that was why she couldn’t put it out of her mind. Carter had answered the questions just as she would have. And that meant she couldn’t stop thinking that it might actually be true, that she’d gone and fallen secretly in love with her best friend.

      And now just look at her, with that totally unacceptable secret loose and wreaking havoc in her mind and heart.

      The only good news?

      Nobody else knew. Not even Carter. He had no clue. She was dead certain of that. Thank God. He’d only been messing with her, taking that ridiculous quiz for her. He had no idea what he’d done.

      The next morning, when he stopped by the house to walk the dogs and then fix breakfast for her and him and her younger sister, Dawn, he seemed totally oblivious. And then at work that day, he mostly stayed in the shop and she managed to stick to the office, so he had no chance to notice if she acted strange and preoccupied.

      Mona, who worked side by side with her, caught on, though. “You okay, Paige? You seem kind of far away.”

      “Christmas on my mind, I guess,” Paige outright lied. “And you know, it’s kind of quiet today. We should get out the decorations, get them up. You think?”

      Mona loved Christmas. She zipped right out to the shed by the back gate and hauled the boxes of decorations up front to the office. They spent a couple of hours setting up the fake tree and tacking sparkly garland on every available surface. Mona already had her old iPod loaded up with Christmas favorites. She stuck it in the dock at the end of the service counter. Holiday tunes filled the air. Mona hummed along under her breath, thrilled to have the office full of Christmas and no longer worrying about what might be bugging Paige.

      Wednesday morning when Paige followed the tempting smells of frying bacon and perfectly brewed coffee downstairs, she found the dogs—her beagle, Biscuit, and Carter’s hound, Sally—sprawled contentedly on the kitchen floor after their morning walk.

      Carter stood at the stove. He had his back to her. She hesitated in the doorway in her flannel pj’s and plaid robe and watched him cooking up the bacon nice and slow.

      He liked to come over before she and Dawn got up, especially lately, since he’d broken up with his last girlfriend, Sherry Leland. Lately, Carter ended up at Paige and Dawn’s a lot of the time. He would take Biscuit out with Sally, then let himself back in and start breakfast.

      And even when he had a girlfriend, Carter still found time to walk Paige’s dog and brew her morning coffee two or three days a week. Most Sunday nights, he came over for dinner and stayed on to play video games or stream a movie.

      That he spent so much time at the Kettlemans’ always bugged his girlfriends eventually. They didn’t really like that his best friend was a woman and his business partner. They also didn’t like that his best friend’s teenage sister was kind of a cross between a daughter and a little sister to him. Paige got why it bugged them. She wouldn’t like it, either, if her special guy spent most of his working life and half his free time with another woman. Paige used to suggest to him that maybe he should focus more on the girlfriend of the hour and not so much on hanging with her and Dawn.

      He wouldn’t listen. He said he liked being with her and Dawn, and if his girlfriend was jealous, she needed to get over that.

      Paige always felt kind of sorry for Carter’s girlfriends. Somehow they all fell so hard for him. And the deeper they fell, the more he pulled away from them. And the more he pulled away, the more upset they got. There would be scenes. Carter hated scenes, mostly because his childhood had been one long, dramatic scene.

      His mother, Willow Mooney, had loved his father, Franklin Bravo, to distraction. Franklin was already married when he met Willow. But Frank Bravo didn’t let a little thing like a wife get in his way. He set Willow up in a house on the south side of town. Willow kicked Frank out of that house on a regular basis. But she always took him back, remaining his mistress for over two decades, giving Frank five children while he was still married to his first wife, Sondra, who gave him four.

      Yeah. Falling for Carter? Not a wise move.

      This can’t really be happening, Paige thought for about the fiftieth time since Monday and that awful, terrible, silly, pointless quiz. This can’t be happening to me.

      But if it wasn’t, then why was she lurking in the doorway to the kitchen, staring longingly at Carter’s broad, thick shoulders and fine, tight butt?

      It just made her feel sad. Beyond sad. Carter’s shoulders and butt had never mattered in the least to her before Monday. Why should they mean so much now?

      He sent her a quick smile over one of those far-too-fine shoulders of his. “Coffee’s ready.”

      As if she didn’t know. Carter was a great cook. And he had a way with coffee. She would know a Carter-brewed cup of coffee blindfolded. All it took was one sniff. Heaven in a cup.

      “Thanks.” She shuffled over and filled a mug with the hot, wonderful brew. And then she stood there, leaning against the counter, sipping it slowly, her heart breaking at the hopeless absurdity of it all as Carter cracked eggs into her mother’s favorite cast-iron pan.

      * * *

      Carter woke on Thanksgiving morning to the sound of his cell ringing. He stuck out a hand, snared the damn thing off the nightstand and squinted at the display. It was 5:49 and his mother was calling.

      When had Willow Mooney Bravo ever climbed out of bed before six in the morning? Never, that he could remember. Even when he and his brothers and sisters were small they knew not to bother Ma too early in the morning. She tended to throw things if you messed with her beauty sleep.

      His sweet redbone coonhound, Sally, lifted her floppy-eared head from the foot of the bed and blinked at him questioningly.

      “Hell if I know,” he said to the dog, and put the phone to his ear. “Ma? What’s going on? Did somebody die?”

      “Happy Thanksgiving, darling. Everything is fine and no one has died. But I know you’re an early riser and I wanted to catch you before you left the house. I want a private word with you—today, I hope. I’m leaving for Palm Springs СКАЧАТЬ